Until All Curses Are Lifted

by Tim Frankovich

  “Why would I want to kill your Masters?” Curasir asked. Exactly. Why indeed?

  Master Tzoyet eyed him. “We do not know,” he said. “The doings of the Eldanim are a mystery to us.”

  “And they likely always will be,” Curasir said. “I am not here to try to explain them, nor am I here to explain myself. What I have often learned among humans, however, is that the most obvious answer is usually the truth.”

  Something seemed different about Curasir. Seri narrowed her eyes and concentrated. His magical power seemed larger than the last time she had seen him. Seri tried to remember whether his power level had fluctuated in the past, but couldn’t recall. He had always seemed impressive.

  “And what is the most obvious answer in this circumstance?” Tzoyet asked.

  “You have already seen Zes Sivas itself breaking apart from the current crisis. Is it not possible that those who wield its magic would also suffer?”

  “And yet none of us have felt any ill effects, and neither of the dead men reported the same,” Master Korda said.

  “Could it have come on suddenly without warning signs of any kind?” Master Plecu said.

  “It does seem unlikely,” Master Hain observed.

  The Masters continued their debate, going in circles around the issue. Curasir said no more. Seri pondered the issues on her own. Master Simmar had come from the Inner Sanctum when he died. That lent credence to Curasir’s theory. But Master Alpin had been in his own quarters. It did not seem logical.

  “How will this affect the Passing?” someone asked.

  “During the Passing, the Masters’ purpose is one of guidance,” Master Hain said. “As long as we have one mage of reasonable training to assist with each Lord, it should not be an issue. We have informed both Varioch and Kuktarma of this.”

  “But how do we protect the Masters?” another apprentice asked. “Can we bring in some guards?”

  “The issue is a delicate one,” Master Hain replied. “At one time, there was a military presence on the island, but they were in service to the King. Were we to start a new guard here, there would be endless debates over how many would come from each land, who would be in charge, and so on.”

  “Suppose we each had a bodyguard from our own land?” Tzoyet said.

  The Masters discussed this suggestion with some animation, though Seri lost interest. If the deaths were caused by magic with no animus, guards would be useless, and if the deaths were murders, then guards would still be useless against someone with that kind of power. Still, the fact that the killer had taken his time implied he wasn’t all powerful, or at least wasn’t in a hurry.

  In the end, all four Masters agreed that if they so desired, they could petition their Lords for individual bodyguards. Seri suspected that all four, though they seemed ambivalent about it here, would immediately take that action. Something strange was happening on Zes Sivas. Any extra security seemed wise.

  •••••

  “Let’s go see if Dravid is awake,” Jamana said as they left the Conclave.

  Seri hesitated. Master Hain had not summoned her, and he would likely be doing more consultations with the other Masters, at least for a while.

  “All right,” she said. “At least for a few minutes. Then I need to get back to training.”

  “You are doing well, then? Master Korda had me practice with the clay balls again.”

  “Mine was a little more than– I broke a twig.”

  “A twig?”

  “Yes, I made a twig come apart. Apparently, that’s a big deal.”

  Jamana chuckled. “Such powerful mages are we.”

  They made their way to the infirmary. This time, Dravid slept in his usual bed. Seri tried hard not to look at the flatness of the sheet covering his left leg.

  Dravid drifted lethargically in and out of consciousness while they sat beside him. Seri and Jamana discussed their mage training, the eccentricities of the Masters, and the quality of the dining hall’s food. They never mentioned the deaths or Dravid’s own situation.

  Eventually, seeing Dravid wasn’t going to regain full coherency any time soon, Seri tugged on Jamana’s sleeve and they left the room. In the hallway, Jamana pounded against the opposite wall with a clenched fist.

  “Are you all right?” Seri glanced around to see if anyone else had seen or heard him.

  “No, I am not. Nothing is right in this place.” Jamana turned. “We have two dead Masters, Dravid’s life is ruined, and reality itself may be coming apart.” He spread his arms wide. “And we don’t even have a priest to talk with!”

  Zes Sivas did not have its own priest. That thought had never occurred to Seri. She had grown up in a family that had little time for religion. Sure, they acknowledged the existence of Theon as the source of the Law, but everyone did that. Rejecting it too strongly is what led to curses. You had no choice in the matter. But talk with a priest? It was not something she had ever sought out.

  Jamana’s upbringing was clearly different. “Why would Theon allow this kind of thing? Isn’t this the most sacred place in all Antises? Aren’t the Masters themselves his chosen servants, even more than the priests?”

  “I don’t know,” Seri admitted. “I haven’t really thought about things that way.”

  “None of this is right! I am going to say this to Master Korda to his face. He is a Master? Then he will know.”

  “And he might send you to work in the kitchen again.”

  “For asking questions? Then he is not worthy of my service!”

  Jamana seemed genuinely worked up. Seri regretted her kitchen jab. “I’m sorry. I guess I just– I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

  “It is not your fault, little Seri-Belit.” Jamana took an enormous breath and let it out. “I am sorry, as well. This is all so frustrating.”

  “And scary. Don’t forget scary.”

  A smile touched Jamana’s lips, but only for a moment. “I am scared,” he admitted. “The ground shakes. People are hurt and dying around us. It is not a good place to be. You would think everyone was getting cursed.”

  “Don’t say that!” Seri glanced around to make sure no one else could hear. “You know those who are cursed are not allowed on Zes Sivas! If anyone thought Dravid was cursed, he would be forced out immediately!”

  “I know. He is not cursed. It just feels that way. For all of us.”

  “The Passing is five weeks away. The Lords will be coming before that, along with their soldiers and retainers and so on. If there is a murderer, then all of that combined with the Masters will certainly be able to find him.”

  “If we are not all dead by then.”

  “Nah.” Seri acted nonchalant with a confidence she didn’t have. “He’s only killed two people in the last month. At that rate, he won’t even be able to finish with the Masters before the Passing.”

  “Let us hope you are right,” Jamana said. “I must go now. I will see you… later.”

  Left alone in the empty hall, Seri tried not to let her own fear crowd in. Her thoughts were jumbled enough as it was. What if the killer planned to kill all the Masters? Even before the Passing? What would that accomplish?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  OVER THE COURSE of the next week, Seri had little time to worry about a possible murderer or the shaking earth. Master Hain bore down hard, focusing her training through a strict regimen.

  He made her repeat tasks over and over again. Seri knew the value of practice, as she had been taught throughout her school years, but Master Hain emphasized it even more.

  “The more times you repeat an action, the more natural it becomes,” he said. “All of these things you are learning now are basics. You should be able to do them at a moment’s notice with barely a thought. And the more attuned to the magic you become, the easier it will be to do greater things.”

  When he didn’t have her practicing, Master Hain made Seri study. He assigned a dozen books for her to read, ranging from the history of Zes
Sivas (which she already knew quite well), to philosophy lectures on magical theory (which she knew nothing about). Master Sekou’s Vicissitudes of Wild Magic and its Practitioners was not on the list, but she continued to read more of it when she could.

  She had little time to see her friends. She exchanged a few words with Jamana once or twice a day, usually at meals. Master Hain had not forgotten Dravid, either. He instructed Seri, when she would finish a particular book, to take it to Dravid for him to read. In this way, she actually got to see him more than Jamana. He recovered slowly, but the nurses started to teach him to walk with a crutch. The sooner he was out of that bed for good, the better.

  Seri’s magical prowess moved on from destroying things, which was extremely welcome. Rather than break rocks apart, she learned to use vibrations to move them, push them from one place to another. Rather than shattering sticks, she learned how to create a gentle tear in a tree trunk for the purpose of grafting. (This required a quick remedial botany review.)

  Master Hain urged her, above all, to study the nature of things. “Understanding leads to control,” he repeated. “That is the goal.”

  “To control everything?”

  “Of course not. We are not power-hungry despots. We seek control for the good of all. The world is changing. We do not fully understand what is happening. We need new mages, eventually new Masters, who will be better than we are.”

  “You want me to be better than you?”

  “That is a Master’s ultimate goal,” Hain said. “If my student surpasses me, grows to a better understanding of Antises, and thereby is able to help save it, then my life will have been well spent.”

  From there, he led her to working with water. This process often ended with Seri, in soaking wet robes, making her soggy way back to her quarters to change into dry clothes. Water, or any other liquid, was not at all like the solid items she had worked with before. It required a completely different way of thinking, one that strained Seri’s mind.

  Master Hain admitted that liquid was one of his personal difficulties in working with magic. For a couple of days, he sent Seri to work with Master Tzoyet. She found him to be far less pleasant than Master Hain, and an even more demanding teacher.

  Curasir stopped by to see her from time to time. He appeared during her training sessions twice, where he held lengthy discussions with Master Hain over her skill progression and her potential. Seri found this distracting and usually ended up breaking something. She wasn’t used to people talking about her in such ways, in her presence.

  At other times, Curasir approached her alone, in the dining hall or as she walked from one session to another. He asked about her visions. Surprisingly, she hadn’t had any more since the day outside the walls. She mentioned that one to him, but didn’t speak of the monster. It didn’t feel right at the time.

  She did discuss the beams of light with him in more detail. Curasir helped her clarify the spectrum progression of power she had already noticed, ranging from red to purple.

  “And it’s really more of a circle,” Curasir said. “The purple then fades into red and starts over again.”

  “So… is a reddish-purple beam the most powerful, or the most weak?”

  “Yes.”

  Curasir tried to explain the power didn’t always work the way she thought it did. As far as destroying things, her first magic, it was straightforward. But the further you got into more detailed magic, the less the distinctions of the amount of power seemed to matter. It seemed more like each major color worked with different elements. Curasir did not clarify, insisting she needed to learn some things on her own.

  Seri was thrilled the day she finally figured out the best color range for working with water. She had expected it to be in the blue range, but her every attempt ended in failure. It was actually green. Once she understood that, a whole new realm of possibilities opened up. Soon she could levitate water, move it around, and more. Master Hain seemed almost as excited as she did. If only it didn’t leave her so exhausted every evening.

  Then the messages from the six lands began arriving, and everything changed again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “THE SUPPLIES FROM Intal Eldanir will last a few more days,” Aelia noted. She looked at Talinir. “I assume, as a warden, that you’re sufficiently talented in foraging for game?”

  The Eldani smiled. “You won’t lack for food as long as you’re with me,” he promised.

  “Good to know.”

  “I can fish,” Victor offered.

  The three of them rested at twilight after another day’s travel. Marshal dropped a bundle of sticks next to where Talinir prepared to build the fire. He sat down, as well.

  “It would be good to catch a few fish when next we cross a large enough stream,” Talinir said. “Thank you, Victor.” He started assembling the sticks.

  “How is everyone handling this trip?” Aelia asked. She looked around at each of them. “Besides sore muscles, any difficulty?”

  “I’m all right,” Victor said. “Marshal?”

  He thought carefully and then shrugged, pretty sure that was the correct response.

  “What about you, Talinir?”

  The Eldani looked surprised. “Me? This is… how I live my life. I’m used to it.”

  “And yet, you used the starshine again last night.”

  Talinir froze and then set his sticks down with care. “That is my own concern,” he said.

  “Is it? You promised to keep my son safe. How will he be safe if you are passed out in euphoria?”

  Marshal looked at his mother. She sounded so stern, like when she had caught him disobeying her instructions as a child. It was so odd to hear her talk that way to someone else.

  “That will not happen,” Talinir said shortly. “I have not used more than one drop at a time.”

  “Unless I am mistaken, the stars last night were clearly visible,” Aelia said. “Like tonight, we camped where it was easy to see them. We always do. Is that not enough for you?”

  “Why do you question me? You are not Eldanim. You do not know what it is like.”

  “I know enough. You are dependent on the light of the stars. But you see them right now!” She gestured toward the heavens. “And with your other vision, you see the stars of the Otherworld constantly. Why do you need more?”

  Talinir’s resumed his work with stiff movements. He seemed to be fighting anger or some other strong emotion. Marshal couldn’t tell which.

  “For those of us who have seen the light of the stars of the Otherworld - not with split vision, like I do now, but fully within that world - it will always pull at us. We long to go back, to see it again, to bask in its beauty for all time.”

  Marshal caught his breath. That described the way he felt, when he remembered that other place.

  “And the starshine satisfies that desire?”

  For a long moment, Talinir did not answer. He snapped a large branch in two. The crack made Marshal jump.

  “It does not satisfy,” the warden said at last. “But it is enough. It reminds me of what it is like and gives me the strength to carry on within this world.”

  “Can you go without it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then do so!”

  “Why? I suffer no lasting harm from its occasional use, and it comforts me.”

  “Occasional?”

  Talinir did not answer.

  Aelia sighed. “I do not say these things lightly, warden. I have but one goal in my life: to get my son to Reman and try to lift his curse. I will do whatever I must. But he must get there safely, and for that, I place my trust in you. I only want to be sure that the trust is justified.”

  “I have given you my word. You need not fear.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  A long silence followed.

  “I am really good at fishing,” Victor said at last.

  Aelia chuckled and Talinir smiled. Marshal did not react. A new thought had entered his
mind, and he was having a hard time dismissing it.

  •••••

  Marshal waited. He considered acting that very night, but decided against it. The subject was too much on everyone’s minds. Instead, he waited.

  Finding the right moment proved difficult. Talinir needed less sleep than everyone else, so he took his sleep only when Aelia was awake and alert. Victor offered to be on guard at times, but Talinir turned him down. Aelia insisted she was fine. Marshal noted she could be just as stubborn as Talinir in this regard.

  His moment came two nights later. Aelia and Victor both slept. Marshal feigned the same himself, but kept one eye cracked open, watching Talinir. The warden seemed to be making sure all three of them were asleep. Then he walked a perimeter around the camp. Finally, he stretched out, and, as expected, dosed himself with a drop of starshine.

  Marshal waited until Talinir’s hand slipped to the ground. He appeared lost in a trance, like the time the assassin had attacked them outside Intal Eldanir.

  Marshal got up, taking care to be as quiet as possible. The leather pouch lay on the ground near Talinir’s hand. He picked it up, keeping an eye on the Eldani warden the whole time. He backed away a few steps, then turned and made his way outside the light of the low fire.

  It looked easy enough. Marshal unscrewed the lid and squeezed the pouch over his left hand. A large drop of the thick, viscous liquid plopped out into his palm. He re-attached the lid with one hand and set it aside. He took a deep breath, laid flat on the ground, and held his left hand up above his face.

  At first nothing happened. Had he done it right? He was about to get up when the drop began to glow. It grew brighter rapidly and burst into a beam that shot into Marshal’s eye. He blinked. The beam played across his face repeatedly, intersecting both eyes multiple times. As it continued, he began to see… something else.