Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

  “If the One god has no gender,” Leal said, not looking at Eris now. “Why would mine matter? What possible difference does what’s between my legs make to anyone but me?”

  “It doesn’t,” Eris replied. “Even my priestess grandmother would agree. I agree, and I don’t believe in the gods, like you do. Leal, I think your body is your own, just like your life. You should live the way you want.”

  Leal glanced over, and her eyes were wet. “Will you help me?”

  “I don’t…” Denial died in Eris’ throat at the beseeching look in Leal’s gaze. Could she help this…ally? Eris, who had only ever done magic on herself, found herself staring into a new possibility. “I will try. Everyone deserves to be who they are.”

  Leal ducked her head. “I don’t have the words of gratitude.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” Eris replied. How in the stars would she manage such a transformation? Could she? She had a sudden, desperate need to speak to Kali. Kali would know; and if she did not, she wouldn’t rest until Eris had an answer. “Save your gratitude for when it’s deserved,” Eris added softly. She hesitated, a new thought coming to her. “Would you like to be addressed as a man, in the meantime?”

  The Sufani exhaled. “I don’t know right now. But I appreciate the thought.”

  Nodding, Eris held up the dagger again. “I can’t see the back. Will you make sure it’s even?”

  Leal accepted the dagger and bade Eris to turn her back to the fire. Eris held perfectly still as Leal gathered the long locks in her fist, tugging the hair slightly as they discussed the cut. “You’re certain?” Leal asked.

  Eris took a deep breath. “Yes. It’s time for a change.”

  Ten

  Kali’s eyelids sagged with exhaustion, but she forced herself to keep reading.

  “I felt the tears of the silverwood trees. Each touch brought me knowledge of their deaths, so many giants brought down by sickness. I have spent every night this week sleeping among them; I feel their sorrow and confusion as if it were my own. They are dying, and they do not know why.

  Del says I am imagining things, that trees do not feel as we do, but he’s wrong. He thinks I’m mad, just as the others say. It was not always so.

  Last night I placed my hands upon the tallest tree and gazed up into sparkling leaves; it is the most beautiful sight, one the trees only share with those they trust – or those they are trying to draw closer. The beacon moths love them. But even the strongest trees are sick and dying. I will ask Del again to beg King Solasar to save some. Will he? Can he? Is even a king’s power strong enough to withstand this curse?

  I have begun collecting acorns. Each one is alive with possibility; I can feel their massive spirits in the tiny pods. Perhaps I am mad. Del is frightened when he looks at me, but I don’t care. I must know what is happening to the silverwood trees.”

  “They all died of sickness,” Kali murmured to no one, rubbing her eyes. “But you managed to save some; there’s a few left in Lasath, on the royal grounds.” Or so her natural history books had told her, but she had never seen the silverwood grove for herself. Would she ever know anything other than a bastion?

  The leather and hematite collar felt tighter with each breath, but there was nothing she could do. She had been able to magic Eris’ collar off before Heartfire, but that had been before she had a collar of her own. Now, despite how she’d tried, she could barely feel the presence of particles; the world was gray and dull as hematite itself.

  A yawn caught her but she fought against it, because she could not go to sleep. Every time she slept, every time she dropped her guard, she heard the strange voices in the back of her mind. Sweet blood. Sweet magic. Give it to us. Now.

  As she had often done in the days since Heartfire, Kali imagined Stonewall was here, listening to her read. She hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a week, since they’d returned after Heartfire. She’d tucked his letter away for safekeeping in her viol case, but the lack of his steady presence gnawed at her heart and mind. She fought that feeling, too. She was no simpering girl in a sonnet. She could survive without the man she loved.

  “Keep reading,” Kali told herself, squinting at Artéa Arvad’s journal propped in her lap as she sat upon her sleeping pallet. “Forget everything else.”

  She had come to the end of one entry, so she turned to the next. This one, like the others, was dated over two hundred years ago, before bastions, before sentinels; only a generation or so after Seren, the second moon, had appeared in the sky. Artéa’s writings were…strange, to say the least, but Kali couldn’t blame the first mage for her confusion. How frightening it must have been to be aware of particles without knowing what they were.

  Sweet blood.

  “Shut up,” Kali said, and continued reading.

  “Del is frightened for me. He says the Pillars want to lock me away, but I think he’s being overcautious. The Circle is a friend to all; the Pillars are our guides, our beacons in the chaos. Without them, there is no order in the world. No, I am not afraid of the Circle or the Pillars who steer its counsel.

  “I am afraid for the silverwood trees. They spoke to me again last night: stories of anger and jealousy, and fear. So much fear. And I had the dream again – the one with the great dark cloud that blotted out the stars. So much fear. I asked the trees for answers, but they had only questions. ‘Why have they come?’”

  Kali’s breath caught at the mention of the dark cloud. The same vision had plagued her after Parsa; the same sense of fear. “Why have they come?” she asked aloud. The entry ended there. She turned the page. The next entry was in Zhee, and Kali swore as she tried to puzzle out the language. Stars and moons, why had she not learned more?

  A soft knock against her door made her glance up, blinking in the pale light streaming through her window. Morning? Where had the night gone? The knock came again and Kali scrubbed her face, hoping she didn’t look as haggard as she felt. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Sadira paused just over the threshold. As ever, the Zhee mage appeared cool and unruffled, her moonstone-pale hair intricately braided and her expression calm. Sadira still wore her hematite torc, but the leather and hematite collar sat above it. Kali nearly laughed at the sight. Did the sentinels truly think hematite could dispel Sadira’s magic? The Zhee mage had healed a room full of Parsan villagers while wearing her torc, and even now, a pleasant warmth billowed from her, filling Kali’s small room.

  Sadira’s pale-blue eyes swept across the piles of books, scrolls, and clothes that littered the space, before coming to rest on Kali. “Are you ill?” Sadira asked.

  Kali ran a hand through her hair. Her braid had come undone sometime during the night, and the dark brown strands were tangled. Her eyes itched and she knew they must have shadows beneath them from lack of sleep. Seren’s light, she must seem a mess.

  She tried to smile up at Sadira as she tapped the journal. “Just got caught up reading. It’s Foley’s fault, really. He should have known what would happen if he gave me a new book.”

  “Artéa Arvad’s journal?” When Kali nodded, Sadira approached warily, but with that fluid grace she always possessed, stepping around the chaos of Kali’s room with ease. “Have you been up all night?”

  Kali toyed with the pages. “Can’t sleep,” she admitted once Sadira sat beside her on the sleeping pallet. “Ever since Heartfire.”

  “You went through a terrible ordeal.”

  “We all did.”

  “Yes, but you nearly died.”

  Kali’s hand stole to her throat. Above the collar, the raised scar was still tender, but otherwise she was fine. Heat pricked her eyes and she rubbed them again. “I’m well. Just… I’ve had some disturbing dreams.”

  “What sort of dreams?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Nothing makes sense. They’re mostly strange images and voices speaking a language I don’t know and have never heard. There’s something about a…huge dark cloud, and an overwhelming sense of fea
r and loss. And…”

  Sweet blood. Sweet magic. Give it to us. Now.

  Kali shuddered. “I sound crazy.”

  Sadira shook her head, her braids swaying with the motion. “You are wary. Weary,” she corrected herself. “You must rest.”

  She made to reach over to close the book, but Kali pulled it away. “I will,” Kali said, trying to force her mouth to form a true smile. “What are you doing here, anyway? It’s too early for breakfast. Isn’t it?”

  “Foley wants everyone to gather in the common room,” Sadira replied with a glance at the book. “Come. They should not wait for us.”

  “All right. But first,” Kali tapped the page, “can you translate this for me? The only word I could make out was ‘magic.’”

  “The book will keep.”

  “Please?” Kali shoved the journal into Sadira’s hands. “It’s a short passage. I must know what it says. Please, Sadira.”

  The Zhee mage regarded her again before skimming the cramped writing, her brows knitting as she read. She made a noise of consternation and Kali sat up, looking between her friend and the book. “What is it?”

  “Enemy.”

  “Um…what?”

  “Perhaps I have the word wrong,” Sadira replied, shaking her head. “But what is written here would make the Circle very angry.”

  “Then maybe you mean ‘heresy,’” Kali said. Her blood beat in her ears. “What does the passage say?”

  “It is an old dialog. I’m uncertain how to make you understand.”

  “Please try.”

  Sadira exhaled in irritation, but began to read. “I met with the Pillars today. They were curious about me, as I was about them. Del came with me. The Pillars were most interested to hear about the silverwood trees, and my dealings with them. It was pleasant, at first, for I thought they believed me. But as we spoke, I saw something in their eyes: a flash of starlight. It frightened me and I knocked over the tea by accident. Del apologized, but I could see the anger in their faces when they looked at me. And when one of the Pillars touched my arm as we left, I felt him. Felt his entire being, his spirit. And it was foreign to me in a way that no one has ever been. It was like a spider crawling up the back of my neck, only more so, somehow.

  “I know every particle of Del’s being, because he is a man of flesh and blood and bone; the Pillar who touched me wore the body of a man, but he was no man. He was something else.

  “Later, Del told me I was imagining things. I think he’s reaching the end of his patience with me, although he denies it. But I don’t care, not really. I’m so afraid. I can’t sleep; I feel that strange presence, even now. And when I close my eyes, I see the Pillars looking at me with starlight in their eyes. Even as I write this, I fear what they will do to me if I am discovered. Thank the stars for Del and his love of old languages; one of the passions we shared. But even he won’t understand this. I hardly do, myself. All I know is that I am afraid.”

  Silence descended like a sword between the two mages. Kali, dumbstruck, only stared at her friend as Sadira traced her fingernail over the small sketch of a tree in the corner of the page; apparently Artéa had a fondness for doodling. At last the Zhee mage looked at Kali. “What was the word you used?”

  “Heresy,” Kali whispered.

  Sadira nodded and closed the journal with an audible thunk that made Kali start. “This woman is mad,” she said, setting the book aside. “And her Zhee is clumsy. Half of the words are misspelled; I’m not sure I got the transformation right.”

  “Translation,” Kali corrected, though her thoughts were spinning.

  Sadira regarded her. “You should remain reading myths and children’s tales. This,” she waved her terra cotta-colored hands at the journal, “would keep anyone from sleep.”

  Kali’s heart beat furiously against her ribs but somehow, her voice was steady. “What does it all mean? Are the Pillars…thralls?”

  “The Pillars are the leaders of the Circle,” Sadira said gently. “If they were monsters, someone would have noticed. Besides, everyone in those pages has gone to their next lives by now.”

  “Maybe.” Kali scrubbed her face again. If she could only think straight!

  A warm hand settled upon her shoulder. “Come on,” Sadira said, offering a smile. “We’ll see what Foley wants, then get tea. That will bring you to sleep. You’ll feel better…”

  But Kali didn’t hear the rest of her words, for Sadira’s touch ignited a thrill of hunger just like she’d felt on Heartfire. Not a desire for her friend’s body, but her magic.

  Yes, sweet blood. Give it to us.

  The shock of the urge made Kali gasp and jerk away from Sadira, clambering off her pallet to stumble over the detritus littering her room. Her knee screamed a protest at the sudden movement, but she didn’t care.

  “Kali?” Sadira came to her. “Are you well? What’s wrong?” Her eyes widened and her hand stole to her hematite torc. “Did I…harm you?”

  While Kali could not manipulate particles while bound by hematite, she could sense the raw force of Sadira’s magic – and the insistent draw of such power. She sucked in a breath, fighting for control, and her collar pressed tighter. She tried to wrench it off, but Captain Cobalt had secured it well, and she only succeeded in scraping her still-healing scar. The pain brought focus, and with focus came the control Kali so desperately needed.

  “You didn’t harm me,” Kali managed, shaking her head. “I just…” Get a hold of yourself! “I think I’m more tired than I realized. Perhaps some tea will do me good.”

  Sadira studied her but nodded slowly. “You need sleep most of all.” She pointed to the door. “The others are waiting. Can you walk?”

  She could, but it wasn’t easy. The sudden scramble to get away from Sadira had twisted her knee, and each step brought a sharp stab of pain, despite the brace. But for once, Kali welcomed the pain as a distraction from a far greater worry. She used the corridor wall to help support her weight and refused Sadira’s assistance. Sadira did not question her, but Kali did not miss the concerned glances Sadira shot her way when she thought Kali wasn’t looking.

  Soon they reached the common room, where fires danced in each hearth and most of the remaining Whitewater mages were already gathered. The room was alive with chatter and speculation, most of which Kali missed in her concentrated effort to not collapse from the pain in her knee. Someone had pulled most of the chairs to the center hearth so that everyone could have a seat. Sadira directed Kali to the nearest padded chair, and Kali sank down, extending her left leg to give her knee some respite. The brace that Gideon had made glinted in the firelight. After a brief hesitation, Sadira slid over a footstool for Kali to prop up her knee, and then settled beside her without touching.

  Castor, a slender fellow about ten summers older than Kali, had been pacing just outside the semicircle of chairs. “That’s everyone – finally. Foley, now will you tell us what this is about?”

  Another young man named Jep called, “Are the hemies going to remove the sodding collars?”

  Foley, who had been kneeling before the center hearth, straightened and faced the assembled mages. “I’ve spoken with Commander Talon,” he began. “But she has no plans to remove the collars. I’m sorry.”

  Exclamations of outrage burst out among the assembled mages. “This is horseshit,” Castor said. “We’ve done nothing wrong!”

  “Why are we being punished for Eris and the others’ actions?” Jep kicked a nearby bench. “Should’ve left with them when I had the chance.”

  A few other mages grumbled assent.

  Hazel, a teenage girl with strawberry blond hair, rubbed her throat. “It’s so tight! The lock keeps chafing me. Can’t the sentinels at least loosen the buckles?”

  “We stayed,” said Wylie, an older woman. “Surely that makes us…if not Talon’s allies, then at least less deserving of such treatment.”

  Castor nodded. “Aye. And I’ll tell you this: I didn’t go with Gid and the
rest because it seemed too risky, but I’m thinking better of that now. And I sure as shit resent being collared like a sodding dog for nothing.”

  Similar cries filled the room, all aimed at Foley while the First Mage waited for their heated words to ebb. Kali kept her mouth shut. Although she agreed with the others that they should not have been punished for Eris and her friends’ actions, she was more curious about why Foley had brought them all here. Sadira, too, sat silently, hands in her lap, gaze fixed on the hearth behind the First Mage.

  At last Foley raised his hand—and his hook—and quiet settled over the room. Foley gave a deep, defeated sigh. “I summoned you here to discuss Gideon.”

  Castor, who had been pacing, stopped in his tracks, his arms tight at his sides. He’d been one of the mages tasked with burying Gid’s body. “What about him?” Castor asked, no small amount of bitterness in his voice.

  “He deserves better,” Foley said, his gaze flickering to Kali.

  Heat crept to her face and she ducked her head, though she took no comfort in the fact that he had heeded her words.

  “I thought you hated Gideon,” Hazel said.

  “No, child,” Foley replied with a sad smile. “I did not always think highly of him, but hate is a useless emotion I have long since done away with.”

  Druce, who had also helped bury Gid, leaned back heavily in his chair. “Seren’s sodding light… I just want to live in peace and mind my own business. Can’t we put all of this other shit behind us?”

  A few others murmured similar sentiments, but Foley was already shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Druce. Not yet, anyway. Not without showing respect to a good man, even if he was…troublesome at times.”

  Some of Kali’s pain had receded after propping up her knee. The strange, foreign hunger for magic had also faded, so she managed to speak somewhat normally. “Now that we’re allowed to leave the dormitories, can we have some sort of…ceremony for Gid?”

  What would Eris say to that? Something tightened in Kali’s throat that had no connection to the collar. No doubt Eris would just want her husband alive.