by Kesia Lupo
Grandmother continues to climb. ‘In return, our Ancestors agreed to grant him the benefits of the old magic, of astromancy – while, at the same time, hiding its true powers from anyone else. The religion of Fortune was to be buried.’
She is quiet for a few moments while we scale the last few stairs and step out on to a polished wooden floor. The room opens up above us. The ceiling over our heads soars up to its apex easily thirty feet above and entirely wrought of glass, twisting itself into the distinctive Scarossan spiral that feels so familiar … and yet … there is something different here. The panes of glass are smaller, less transparent. The blue tinge floods the room with an ethereal light, as if it’s being filtered through water and we are miles under the sea. The dying sunlight falls through it unevenly. A large round marble platform is set in the middle of the floor, and somehow I can tell with a glance that it’s older than the gods: a huge image of a sun has been embedded in mosaic on its surface, the colours faded yellows and reds. My mind leaps back to the graffiti, the pendant, the cover of my mother’s book … ‘Is this part of a temple … to Fortune?’
‘Clever boy. This is the oldest part of the palazzo, hidden from all but the Contessa, her close family … and the Cardinal.’ Her mouth flattens to a thin line. ‘Every month, the Cardinal of Mythris’s temple visits this place to hear the temple’s fortune, and I am tasked with adjusting it to his specifications, as far as I am able.’
‘You … you are an astromancer?’ I blink, feeling my whole world jolt and turn.
‘Of course. What have I been telling you, boy? We Santinis always have been, stretching back to that very first generation. Why do you think we are always so eager that our children be gifted with magic? Not all mages are astromancers, but all astromancers are mages. The magic within you, after all, is what connects you to both of these powers. Without that inborn talent, there can be no spells or visions.’
I nod slowly. ‘The bargain relies on it. If the contessa or conte were to be a non-astromancer, the agreement with Mythris would end. No more masks. So I’m here to …’ My eyes widen with realisation. ‘You’re going to teach me astromancy?’
‘Why did you think I’d brought you all the way up here – for fun?’ she snaps, walking over to the huge table, her cane tapping loudly on the floor.
I feel blood rush to my cheeks.
She continues. ‘The balance is delicate, and I am growing old. It is difficult for me to climb up here, as you have seen, let alone control the powers of astromancy with the accuracy and delicacy required. The older I grow, the more the stars seem to slip from my power like coins through outstretched fingers. My link to the future fades as my own future shrinks.’ She rests her cane against the table top and slowly pulls a chair from beneath it. Every one of her movements is laboured – she is clearly in pain – but when I start forward to help her, she shoots me a glare that freezes me to the spot. ‘Meanwhile,’ she continues, ‘the signs of Mythris’s favour appear to melt before my eyes. My line of heirs grows ever weaker. And the masked god did not exactly favour you with outstanding magical talents, Livio.’ I feel the sting of the comment, but I try to ignore it as she lowers herself into the seat. ‘And now, with this assassination attempt on the mascherari sisters from gods know who …’ She shakes her head.
I freeze. ‘An assassination attempt?’ I repeat softly.
She sighs. ‘Yes. Hours after the Inheritance. Even the True Masked guards did not detect the intruder. One has to ask, is Mythris as committed to upholding his side of the bargain as he once was?’
‘What does all this mean?’ I ask shakily.
‘I fear … I fear it means the agreement with Mythris is in trouble.’ She places her hands flat on the table’s surface. The rings on her fingers catch the dying sunlight, reflecting back on her face in a golden glow. For a moment I can see how she must have looked when she was my age – when she was first in this temple, as I am now. Beautiful and stubborn. ‘But for now, it means that you must learn astromancy. Come, sit beside me.’
I can feel my heart racing with nervousness. I’m no good at magic, and I’ve been studying it for three years. How am I supposed to master a whole new craft? ‘Grandmother, I …’ I can’t do this. You know I can’t.
‘Livio.’ Her voice is sharp. ‘Hold your nerve.’
I sit at the round table next to her and follow her gaze, up into the stars, warped through the twisted glass of the minaret. I mirror her posture, my hands flat on the cold marble table. We are quiet for a few moments as the sun finally dies, the stars sapping its light. At first my head’s just spinning with disbelief, with questions and fears and general unease. But at last, a peacefulness fills me as I stare up into the sky. When I speak again, my voice is quiet.
‘What if I can’t do it? I’m no good at magic.’ I lower my eyes to look at her. ‘You said it yourself – I’m not gifted.’
‘Perhaps not, in the ordinary sense. But astromancy draws on something different. You are the product of two great Scarossan bloodlines – the Santini … and the Lupina. This power should be in your very heart.’
Her words ring through me like bells, setting my nerves jangling. I feel my mother’s book pressed against my torso – the Starlight Throne, the astromancer queens. ‘Was my mother an astromancer too?’ I ask quietly.
Grandmother hesitates. She doesn’t like to speak of my mother … but finally, she answers. ‘If she was, she never told me. But that didn’t mean she didn’t carry the power within her, pass it on to you.’
Suddenly, after years of feeling untouchable, shrouded in darkness, my mother feels closer than ever. ‘But … what if she didn’t pass it on?’ I ask. ‘What if I’m not an astromancer at all?’
She is silent for a moment. ‘Then, Livio, the art of astromancy will die with me, and the bargain will too. Gods only know what that would mean for our family, for Scarossa … but it can’t be good.’
I swallow, my throat dry. I think of Shadow, out there in the city, waiting to claim his kingdom. Our enemies are willing us to fail.
‘Now, we are going to start with something simple. You are going to look into the near future. You will change nothing of that future, Livio. Do not pull on any of the cords.’
‘The … cords?’
‘Some astromancers think of them as cords – others as strings. Some have called them twists or ribbons. You have to see it to understand. When you touch them with your magic, with intent, you gain an understanding – a vision of what has to be done to change an undesirable outcome. But that’s advanced astromancy. For now, you will simply try to see.’ She runs her hand over the surface of the table. ‘This is an altar, Livio. An altar to Fortune. For the best effect, you should lie on it – partly because touching it with your entire body can amplify its power, and partly so you don’t have to strain your neck when you’re stargazing.’ She smiles slightly.
I touch the cold stone gently, my heart pattering. ‘Right.’
‘Well then, what are you waiting for? Lie down, Livio.’
Slowly, I climb on to the table – the altar – and lower myself down until the back of my head rests against the stone. I feel self-conscious – exposed, as if the stars are staring back at me. I also feel a kind of resonance emanating from the stone. Objects with magical purpose – or objects that have been used numerous times in spells – often retain a kind of echo of magic. But I can’t help feeling there is more here – some deeper note. Whatever it is, I listen to it, my grandmother’s voice drifting from somewhere further away.
‘Gaze up at the stars. The glass is enchanted. The more you look, the more you will see. The first stage is simply to see. Not only with your eyes, although that comes first. But with your heart.’
At first, I’m gazing up just as she says, feeling a mild sense of panic when all I see is stars, and more stars, twisted up in the spiralling blue glass, caught like fireflies in a net. How am I supposed to see anything but what is there? But gradually a kind of calm seeps
into me again, as it did when I first lay my palms against the altar. The stone against my back grows warm with that note – not magic as I know it, slinking away in my stomach like a reluctant beast, but yes, another magic, something higher and brighter – and the stars shimmer. Grandmother must see a change in my eyes or feel something shift in the air.
‘That’s it.’ She sounds a little choked up – with shock, perhaps, that anything is happening at all. ‘Can you see them – the cords?’
I draw on the sensation – the new magic I’m feeling. Stable, serene – not shrinking from my touch. My vision deepens, and I realise the night sky is not a flat cloth strewn with lights, as it sometimes appears. It is layer upon layer of stars – some closer; some further away – with gradations of colour. The helical dome of the glass ceiling helps me see this, somehow. And between all the stars, and stretching down towards me, are … are …
‘Chains,’ I say. That’s the word that springs to mind. ‘The stars are bound together with chains.’
Grandmother pauses before she responds. ‘Very well … Chains.’ She clears her throat. ‘Now I want you to pull back slightly. The layer closest to you is the near future. All you have to do, for now, is touch it with your magic. Exactly as you would send a trickle of power into a spell. You will experience a vision of what is to come.’
This bit feels more tricky. As I try to refocus, the stars blur, and whatever power I’ve tapped into seems to falter, the high note quavering in my chest. I try to retain my sense of calm, but I’ve started to panic again – to feel like I normally do when I practise magic. Useless.
‘Be calm, Livio. You are close.’
I slow my breath. When the first layer of stars sharpens, I am so elated, so relieved that I reach out instantly towards the chain with my power. A spark flies.
‘Careful—’
I gasp as a bright, crackling light fills my vision, a roar of flame – the heat real and blistering on my skin. A face burns in front of me – not a real face, a wooden, painted face. A mask? The paint blackens and crinkles and melts grotesquely, the hair of the grinning mask is wreathed in smoke.
Horror fills me, thick and black as tar. Then – there’s a loud snapping sound, like new wood popping in a fire.
I wake on the floor, my ears ringing, my skin hot – somehow, I rolled off the altar. By some miracle, the book remains pressed against my stomach, under my waistband. I raise my hands to my face, expecting blisters, surprised to find the skin apparently unmarked. Grandmother is standing at my side.
‘Can you get up?’
Slowly, I raise myself to my elbows. ‘What happened?’ My vision is swimming and I blink.
‘You went in too deep, I think. You panicked. Next time, you must remain calm. What did you see?’
I rake my hands through my hair. ‘I saw … fire. There was fire. A face, burning. But not a human face – it was a mask, perhaps.’
She pauses. ‘The power of the stars can be blinding,’ she replies softly. ‘It was your first try.’ But her voice isn’t full of disappointment, or some attempt at consolation … It’s something like wonder that I hear. She sits down on the chair she had used before. ‘But this is … good. You have the power. You saw something – it might not have been clear, or in our near future, but it was a vision. You are an astromancer.’ For someone who was so sure of it beforehand, she sounds very relieved. When I look up into her eyes, the mirror of my own, they are full of tears. ‘You are, already, a much better astromancer than you are a mage.’
I feel hope spark inside me. ‘Do you think … Do you think I can do this?’
‘Livio, we’ve barely ever had a ruler who wasn’t a woman – the last conte was two hundred years ago, and he served for only eighteen months.’ I know this, of course. The tale of the Red Conte is a cautionary tale for children on the dangers of masculinity and power. Grandmother continues. ‘We’ve never had a ruler who wasn’t an astromancer – so, you are that, at least.’ She smiles wanly. ‘But … we’ve also never had one who wasn’t a mage.’ I’ve never heard Grandmother sound so frail, so human.
‘I am a mage …’ I say gently.
‘No, Livio. You have magic, but you cannot call yourself a mage until you can control it. And without control, you will never be able to perform the duties of a conte. Being an astromancer is necessary … but it isn’t enough. Do you understand? You have to be powerful. You will be expected to show authority over the temples … particularly over the Cardinal of Mythris’s temple. Mythris’s temple knows it has a hold on us. We cannot show them our weaknesses.’
I rub my eyes wearily, her words echoing my thoughts. I think of Carlotta jeering at my retreating back. Doubtless Grandmother has already heard of the incident with the cactus – she has regular reports from my teachers at the temple.
‘Do you see why I need you to try harder at your lessons, Livio? Not only try harder, but excel? Do you see why I need you to be safe? No more of these nights in the city, doing whatever it is you do there, whatever brings you home bloody and exhausted and in no fit state to learn. The very survival of this family, of Scarossa’s heritage, is at stake. It is a lot of pressure to place on your shoulders – but there it is. I have no choice but to rely on you.’
I sit there, feeling the stars swirl around me again, my heart racing. Maybe I can do this, after all. For the first time, I want to do it. I don’t want to disappoint Grandmother. I don’t want the destruction of the Santini line to be my fault. But it’s more than that.
The vision of fire flashes in my mind, the grotesque burning mask. It was real: I can feel it. I really saw the future. Perhaps there is a path for me in magic.
‘This is my fault,’ she continues, mistaking my silence for refusal. ‘Because we had Constance, I never worried. I knew she would be capable of this. I felt secure, thought it would be easy. I let you get away with too much. I have spoilt you, Livio.’
‘I’ll do it,’ I say quietly. I look at her to make her realise I mean it. ‘I’ll be Conte, grandmother. I can do it.’
An unexpected warmth flashes over her face, and for a moment, I am certain she will reach out and hug me. But in the end, she only nods and stands up, her knuckles tight around her cane. ‘Tomorrow we announce Constance’s death and your ascendancy as heir. Tomorrow everything changes. I want you to be at your lessons, at the temple, when the news is announced – it’ll be good for people to see that you are working hard to develop your magic.’
‘Yes, Grandmother.’
‘Remember, the following night is the fiftieth anniversary of my rise to the title of Contessa,’ she says, using the table to help herself to her feet. ‘There is to be a puppet performance. The Mezzanotte company shall be playing a new, special production in a temporary theatre in the palazzo square. And you, my boy, shall be appearing at my side.’
I nod.
‘Now, I’m afraid you’re going to have to help me down those stairs,’ she says, smiling sadly. She takes my hand, squeezing it with surprising strength. When she draws away, I realise she’s left something in my palm – a silver key on a long chain, exactly like the one I saw her use to open the door. I hold it up to the light, noticing the star on the bow, a single blue jewel gleaming at its heart. ‘A copy of my own,’ she explains. ‘The two keys and the door are enchanted – the door cannot be opened without it, by force or even by magic. Keep it with you always, around your neck and under your clothes – as I do.’ She lifts a hand to her collar, showing me her own chain, peeking from the top. ‘And, Livio, you mustn’t tell anyone of this – any of it. The power of astromancy is a secret kept between us and the Cardinal – do you understand?’
I lift the chain over my neck, tuck the key under my robes. ‘Yes, Grandmother,’ I say softly.
More secrets, I think, as I help her down into her chambers. Despite my new determination, I can’t help feeling fate close around me like a monstrous hand.
I throw the library book on the bed as I return to my room
, glancing at the clock – I’m longing to read it, but it’s midnight, and I’m already late for my meeting with Elisao. I tear off my purple Mythris robes, pulling on a clean pair of trousers and plain shirt and jacket. Guilt twists in my stomach: guilt at keeping Elisao waiting; guilt as I swing out of the balcony and climb down the trellis, knowing every action is a broken promise to Grandmother.
Knowing that this will be the last time I see the man I’ve come to love, just as I’ve finally found the courage to show him how much he means to me.
I was so certain I could live two lives at once. But I can’t cope with the feeling I’m letting everyone down. I keep replaying my first experience of astromancy – the vision, the chains between the stars, the feeling of a new magic … a whole destiny opening up before me. The unfamiliar expression of hope on Grandmother’s face. By the time I’ve reached the mascherari house, snuck past the guards and scaled the crumbling wall, the knowledge of what I have to do feels heavy in my heart.
Elisao is sitting on the library steps, exactly where I left him last night. The square is busy with groups of students staggering between bars, and at first he doesn’t notice me – I’m a few steps away when he finally glances up, his face brightening. ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he says. We stare at each other for a few moments, heat rising in my cheeks. I’m longing to kiss him – but I shouldn’t. I won’t. He stands up and leans forward, but I turn aside, sitting down on the steps abruptly.
‘Sorry, I got held up,’ I say. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re here now,’ Elisao says, disappointment tinging his voice as he sits back down. ‘Do you want to go somewhere a bit more …?’
‘Here is all right,’ I say, running a hand through my hair nervously, bowing my head. ‘Listen, Elisao—‘