Trimarked

by C. K. Sorens

  Rounded, organized heaps of small metals, wires, concrete, cut stone and more gave way to precarious mountains of unsorted materials. Here, Ember checked every opening, tilted her head to listen for and identify the softest sounds. Devi moved often depending on her task and where she found the most solitude around the reclamation efforts of others.

  Today, Ember’s eyes located Devi before her ears. In a large garage, barrels of reclaimed waste oil stacked against the wall, a few of them open. A line of mismatched tables held a chemistry set, bowls of powders, jars of cut herbs, layered texts labeled with scientific titles, even a few ancient tomes that had Faded in alongside the Witches.

  Devi sat wrapped in a large, deep blue wool poncho lined with bright green and white. Tied high on her waist with a hemp belt, the folded sleeves left her arms free, stacks of gem-laded bracelets twined around her forearms. Three books lay open before her, a Witch tome, one chemistry from this realm and a notebook, a familiar pose that meant she sought to cross reference the science of nature and the science of magic, her frown heavy with the struggle.

  “Still trying to clean used oil?” Ember asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “The Ternate Star has risen and I’m hoping its rumored ability to affect change might help.”

  “Ternate?”

  “Hmm.” Devi continued her work. “Three stars that form a group impossible to chart as it only pops over the horizon during autumn, but not on any kind of schedule. Funny story, the Fae call it the Chaos Star, so it is my favorite.”

  “A fairy tale comes to mind, making changes with powers of three. It doesn’t end well for the maiden.”

  “Luckily, I’m not one to make bargains that don’t finish in my favor.”

  Ember cleared her throat. The segue had her tapping staccato in debate. Move right in or wait a minute?

  “Just ask,” Devi inferred. “And stop drumming before you get arthritis.”

  Ember linked her hands together and squeezed for courage. The problems always came after the asking.

  “I need to learn how to deal with a Fae.”

  “You handle them pretty well on your own.” Devi stopped pursuing lines of text. Mint-green irises as sharp and bright as gems rose as her pencil fell. “You mean negotiate.”

  Ember kept her fingers still by forcing them into tight hip pockets. Devi’s steady contemplation became a pressure against skin as the Witch looked over Ember’s stiffened form.

  “You can’t pay for that. You don’t have time. True understanding takes years.”

  “I have something that’s enough for a crash course.”

  Devi pushed out from the table and crossed her arms. Ember meant to allow Devi to look at her tattoo in exchange for instruction on how to talk to Edan. The Witch had been asking Ember for years if she could study the mark, not with any promise to free Ember from it, but because Devi wanted to learn. She was a scholar at heart, one that studied all kinds of magic and used her knowledge to go after difficult tasks, such as turning spent motor oil into something usable. A chance to examine Fae Ink was a hefty item for trade in Devi’s mind. It didn’t take long for the Witch’s eyes to light up with understanding. Just as quickly, Ember watched her interest tighten into suspicion.

  “What have you done, Ember Lee? Why are you desperate to bargain with a Fae? And it had better not be Nicu. I refuse to help you with him, even at the price you offer. I will not give that Fae more of you than he already has.”

  “Not Nicu. Edan. He needs my cooperation with something and I don’t want to go into it blind.”

  A softened truth. Devi would know she wasn’t getting the entire story. Ember wanted an outline version of how to bargain with the most manipulative race in the realms. Her trade was fair, so for Devi, learning why Ember needed the lesson would mean she’d owe Ember something else.

  Devi stood and swung the chair out in front of her, suggesting the ‘why’ would not be cost efficient for the Witch.

  “Sit,” Devi said.

  “Information first.”

  “I can multitask.”

  Ember’s footsteps scuffed over the dirty floor. Ember swallowed hard, spun on her heel and looked at the small, open door. For a moment, she debated using it, then sat. What was the harm in showing Devi her tattoo for the ability to stay in a safe place, and get help with Edan?

  Ember forced herself to stop fidgeting when Devi flicked her shoulder.

  “Hoodies off,” Devi ordered. Ember gripped the hems of the hoodies and slipped them over her head to keep them bunched against her chest. The cloth of the waffle henley wasn’t thick enough to block out the chill, so the layered hoodies would stay on in front.

  Devi released her own messy top bun with sharp, firm movements, then used the tie to wrap up Ember’s mane into a compact knot. The breeze touched her nape, and she swallowed twists of anxiety that tightened her core. She kept her hair long to block the Trimark from view. Yet, this had been the deal. For now, she couldn’t hide behind the millions of dark strands.

  “Who choked you?”

  Ember’s fists clenched, her thoughts torn from the back of her neck to the front. She couldn’t see the bruise but felt the stiff fibers whenever she moved. “A human kid. I took care of it.”

  Devi hummed, her attention returned to the business of studying Binding Ink. “Have you ever looked at this?”

  “I haven’t grown eyes that can swing around, no,” Ember answered dryly.

  “There are mirrors.”

  Ember stayed silent. The only mirror she had hung in her small bathroom, spider-webbed and foggy with age, useless for checking out the bruise on the front of her neck, much less the tattoo on the back.

  Devi’s fingers caressed the lines as she described something Ember had never glimpsed, but knew by heart.

  “Half a butterfly’s wing, or a closed wing from the side, I suppose. The pentacle overlaps, the frame integrated with the delicate design of the wing.” The gentle rasp of Devi’s nail scratched out a star surrounded by a circle, with a deeper scrape through it. “The circle is pulled through, slashing across to break the lines of the pentacle. Control.” Devi spat the last word as if it were a curse.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so intricate. It’s beautiful.” The reluctant words pressed through her lips in a murmur. “And not entirely Fae. A Witch helped with the pentacle and hanging embellishments. Hmm.”

  Devi peered into jars and bowls along the table, gathered a pinch of this and a carafe of that, and moved into her part of the trade.

  “The first rule of making a bargain with a Fae. Don’t.”

  Ember huffed and shifted toward the young woman behind her, eyes narrowed in accusation.

  “Don’t be stupid.” Devi set down the ingredients she collected. On a shallow plate, she lit a few incenses and masked the dank odors of the warehouse and its contents. In an empty bowl, she poured water, cedar chips, sage, something that might have been rosemary, a leaf that smelled of mint, plus another few crumpled and sprinkled selections Ember couldn’t name. “Of course, that is the first rule. Fae are incredibly gifted with speech and have an intricate handle on languages a human could never hope to grasp.”

  “Good thing I’m not human,” Ember drawled.

  “Part human.”

  As the mixture settled, Devi stroked the small charms along her arms. As if by touch alone, the Witch slipped a stone from its hemp cage, then another. Ember kept a sharp eye over Devi’s deft movements, not sure what she might see but not wanting to blindly participate, either. Quartz, amethyst, and something streaked in gold with dark brown deposits spotting the surface. Devi held the stones stable between the fingers on her left hand while she returned to the herb blend on the table.

  “If you can get out of making a bargain, that is your best choice. However, if Edan is intent on getting whatever help he needs from you, listen closely. Do not, under any circumstances, accept anything. To accept something is to increase the price you have to pay. Do not a
ssume an offer is tit for tat. It is not.”

  Devi moved the mortar into a beam of sunlight and reached for her pestle. As she ground the herbs, she held the three stones over the bowl to filter the light.

  “Be very, very careful what you demand. Demanding is not accepting. It is not asking. Demanding puts your offer against his. Which leads to always speaking in absolutes. There should be no agreement with the Fae, simply an end to demands.”

  Without fire, the mixture smoked. Ember shifted in her chair, away from the table. She flinched when a blue flame burst into the mortar.

  “Stop being a baby. It’s only witchflame. All light and no bite.”

  Ember centered herself in the chair and closed her eyes after deciding she didn’t need to see everything Devi was doing.

  When something smooth touched her neck, the chill surprised her. Devi smeared a paste over the Trimark, the soft chant of her words a warm balm that followed.

  An arc of power zapped over Ember, the brand burned through the ice of Devi’s concoction. Electricity pinched against her skin and jarred through the nerves in her spine. Glass shattered across the table with the sound of Ember’s throat-ripping screech.

  Water doused over her nape from the silver carafe Devi held in her hand.

  Gasping, Ember collapsed onto her own lap, arms limp at her sides.

  “Ember Lee,” Devi rasped. “This mark is not only on your skin. The Fae connected it to something, constrained you again somewhere else. You must be very, very careful.”

  Ember supported herself with forearms pressed against her thighs as she sat hunched over, not sure what she should do with that information. Nothing had changed, not even knowing the Fae had bound her. What did an extra layer matter when the result remained the same?

  Devi draped a cloth over Ember’s neck, then spoke a spell for heat and warmth that drew the water from her clothing.

  “Is it bad?” Ember asked.

  “It is bad, but not in the way you ask. Your skin is fine, perfect. There is no sign of contact. The reaction came from the binding around whatever they attached to your mark.” Devi’s finger pad stroked the back of Ember’s neck, gentle and cooling while her opposite hand pulled the hair ribbon free. Ember’s tresses descended to cover the tattoo once again, her shoulders softened in relief.

  “Thank you for your payment,” Devi said. The pause that followed stretched so long Ember regained most of her strength. She put the dried hoodies back in place, pulled her hair free, and turned in her chair to see Devi staring out the open door.

  Devi’s thick sigh indicated any conclusions she drew were not as satisfying as she wished. “I have more to learn and as I do, we may find I am in your debt.”

  Ember swallowed the bitter lump in her throat, forced herself to stand, though her knees shook. She faced the Witch.

  “Let’s hope I never have to cash in.” Devi nodded, eyes still unfocused. After a moment, Ember dropped the damp cloth on the chair, turned and walked weak-legged from Devi’s workroom. No need to make things awkward.

  9

  Aaron

  Well. Fade, that hadn’t gone as planned. Aaron did not understand what turned Ember’s irritation into anger, yet there she went.

  Left on his own, he returned to observing the most incredible space he’d ever seen. In school they’d learned about the industrial park, pre-Witches, through books and photographs. The factories provided a reminder of humanity’s strength and cleverness, their ability to use technology to conquer a natural world in a way magic never could.

  But, wow, the Witches were creating miracles - or magic - with the leftovers of the old era of industry. The thought of magic shot a shudder through his chest and Aaron rocked back on his heels, aware of the sideways stares from the mages.

  Why had he followed Ember here, again?

  Brandt. Verge. That idiot had to stop drinking. Trouble with his long-time friend, sure, Aaron was used to that. Graffiti, joy rides, skipping school, sneaking a blunt after practice — always after because funked up lungs killed their performance. And the End of the World joust. All part of growing up in a bubble.

  Getting onto a Fae’s radar was new. Aaron waltzing into gnome land to find his friend, definitely outside the usual.

  Whoops, Witch, not gnome. He glanced around and wondered if mind reading was a thing here, and if human slang that compared the mages to pointy-hatted yard decorations irritated them.

  No evil glares, no fingers waved in his direction, more backs faced him than not. Okay. He was probably okay.

  Honestly, though, since he was here, he should ask someone something.

  Aaron meandered to an older man with knees deep into a garden while he moved soil around to make room for the potted plants at his side. He didn’t look up when Aaron’s shadow covered his work.

  “Hi, um. I’m looking for a friend.”

  The Wizard looked up and shaded his eyes.

  “And you think this person is here? We are not actually in the habit of kidnapping humans for sacrifices.”

  “What? No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, he’s gone but I don’t know where to look and I thought—”

  “Scrying,” the Wizard huffed. His sneer melted into distaste. “Leona might help if you have something to trade.”

  “Oh.” Aaron scowled at the ground, not having brought money. The man’s lips twisted into a take-him-as-a-sucker smile.

  “Cash is not the only currency.”

  Aaron didn’t know what that meant, but shrugged and figured he could talk to this Leona to find out.

  “Okay. Where is she?”

  “Go to the greenhouse.” He gestured as Ember had, but this time Aaron assumed the Wizard had given him a helpful direction. Maybe.

  Aaron picked his way around the village, careful not to run into anyone, over anything, and to stay clear of anyone who looked like they were working. Not knowing much about Witches, he wasn’t sure what offenses might get him cursed, or worse, kicked out without answers.

  Not clear on the exact location of the greenhouse, Aaron strained his eyes to find it. He doubted the humans of the past built a glass building for plants amongst, well, plants that made things.

  Beyond the first set of vast buildings, Aaron caught a flash of over-bright sunshine up the cross street. A glass enclosed structure protruded from the building on the left and had caused the reflection. Though age fogged the lower windows, the upper panes shone clear where they climbed four stories high and curved back toward the brick at the top.

  The double door sprouted long U-shaped handles. He peeked in first and knocked, then went inside.

  “Shut the door behind you.” The voice held the melody of water and the depth of forest. A shiver tickled Aaron’s spine as he followed instructions that left him firmly inside. He wasn’t worried, per se. He was a human male and protected by the Laws of Convergence. Yet, he was still a human on Witch land and that didn’t happen often.

  “Over here.”

  Aaron peered around the multi-layered garden. Rich, thick earth and flowering blooms filtered through his nose. The claustrophobic entrance narrowed further into cramped walkways between shelves and tables piled high with plants or trees in pots. The cacophony created nowhere to look with a million things to see. He stepped deeper to find the person who spoke.

  “Yeah, I’m looking for Leona.”

  The woman chuckled and, though Aaron’s shoulders bunched, he realized there was no vehemence in it but genuine amusement. He rolled his neck and shook out his fingers like he did before a game and tried to relax.

  “Come on.” A garden-gloved hand peeked out from beside a large potted fern.

  Aaron hop-stepped to catch up before he lost her again. When he approached the junction, he found a woman his height, her carrot orange hair twisted up and twined through the center of a tan, woven hat as if she planned to be out in the sun. She wore bright green flared leggings and a ruffled blouse speckled with so many intense, floral tone
s it looked like a painting gone wrong.

  “I hear the Trimarked Child brought you.”

  “Yes, well.” He wondered what counted as a lie and if it mattered to her. “I kinda followed her when she told me where she was going. I’m looking for a friend.”

  “A noble cause.” Aaron gasped when her sharp, amethyst eyes came into view, catching the light in their depths as if composed of the polished gem. “A genuine friend is hard to find.”

  “Y-yes.” A slight bounce began at his toes. “His name is Brandt and—”

  “I cannot tell you of things beyond the Veil,” she dismissed with a hand wave.

  “Oh. I thought you meant—”

  “I promise you, I’m not the one mistaking the problem.” Aaron frowned at the intimation he mistook the question when he had asked it.

  “Let’s see.” Those purple eyes left him and scanned the field of potted plants. “What can help? Not fickleness,” she spoke, caressing a bunch of yellow puff balls on long stems. “Not pride. We’ll keep looking.”

  “Okay, but what are we doing? The man in the garden mentioned scrying.”

  The Witch smiled. “Well, we could, but like I said, beyond the Veil. So, we will work on something else. Aha, here we go. Arborvitae.” The bush reached to the four story high ceiling. She trimmed a branch and kept moving.

  “Some fern,” she agreed, as if in a debate with someone. “But for color…” Leona turned to face him, shoulders squared with his, and looked him over top to bottom, bottom to top. Aaron squirmed, not knowing what she saw, though he felt confident it wasn’t his letterman’s jacket.

  “Huh.” Leona blinked, and then squinted into a slight lean. “Oh. I see what we need.” She grabbed a basket from under a table and returned to her task with new vigor.

  She picked three different tree blossoms, then a few herbs he recognized because of the abrupt change of smell from fragrant to sharp. Next, she gathered a few long-stemmed flowers in full bloom. She stopped in front of the roses, touched between the pink and the white. “That may be too much to ask.” She turned to him with her harvest.