Book 4, Chapter 44: Fire and Ice
A knock at the door and it opened, a guard peeked in, “My lady, the Wizard Etienne here to see you.”
I looked up from more brooding, endless brooding, “Yeah, yes, thank you. Please have him enter.”
He entered. “I’m sorry to hear about your former mistress of the bedroom’s attack on your person, Princess Cayce.”
Picking up a teacup, I sipped, then said, “Yeah.” I gestured at the seat across from me and the table, “Please. Help yourself to some tea if you like.”
He did and sat down. “You’ve controlled yourself very well during this excursion.”
“Ah, thank you?”
“I mean, your powers haven’t emerged uncontrollably in a long time.”
“Thanks to your training, yes. And the perseidian iron I’m wearing.” I tapped my rings, holding up my hands, the bracelets falling down to my wrists. I knew I should tell him about the end of the battle, the ravens and crows, their effect on me. But I didn’t know how to phrase that safely.
“I came to inform you that I will be leaving your presence for a month or more. Because you can control yourself and I’ve never seen you abuse your power, I am going to journey to the Conclave. Information about the symbol scarred into your back is there. To learn how it works.”
“What does that entail?” I needed to know how to use one of their dictionaries, if I ever got my hands on one, and hoped he’d let something slip.
“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, probably deciding what level of knowledge to share. “As I showed you, the symbol is made up of a number of runes. Each of these intersects others, affecting them in different ways.”
“The intersections provide the structure, the meaning?” I could see the polygon in my mind, turning it over in 3D, wondering what it would look like in 5D, as if that was a thing humans could see.
“Something like that, yes. Each rune reinforces or detracts from others, weaving together the magic, a complex-”
“Wait, the runes modify each other?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Damn, but that sounds like a neural network almost.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“Uh, sorry, I’m just guessing here.”
He leaned forward, fingers woven together on the table, “What were you going to guess?”
“Uhm, if the runes modify the output of other runes, increasing or decreasing the other’s effects, that’s similar to . . .” a processor, an algorithm, but I didn’t know the words here to describe that, so I said, “like, they’re not just encoding information, but acting almost as a mind of its own that processes complex tasks.” I really should have simply batted my eyelashes at him and played dumb. More to the point and worse, I might have some kind of multiple dimensional neural processor on my back that, I don’t know, made magic work – this was crazy!
“That’s a pretty accurate description, if a little off. Princess Cayce,” he leaned in even more, “you came by this peculiar knowledge from the rune? What do you mean by ‘encoding information,’ though?”
“It’s the . . .” he didn’t know. When. The order of events. He didn’t know that I’d talked to the armorer and weaponsmith first, before getting magic. At least, he wasn’t present during those meetings. I went for the lie and tried to sound young. “Ever since the symbol, after Bechalle’s torture, carved it into me I mean, I just know things. So much is obvious now.”
“Forgive me for musing on the symbols of your pain.”
“No, no, it’s perfectly ok. The pain is in the past.” I wondered now if I’d just messed up learning about these carvings by creating a false lead. Ugh. Well, when the punishment for having something carved into your back is death, things get muddled.
“What a shame for your young mind, to force unwanted knowledge on you. But a boon for the kingdom. If you don’t,” he waved his index finger back and forth, like a schoolteacher, “abuse this.”
I held up my arm again shaking it to rattle the bracelet still there.
He leaned forward, “Please, please do not give into temptation and use this power. You’re young, but the costs would be . . . unimaginable.”
No, my mage friend, I thought, quite imaginable. I’ve seen videos of nuclear explosions and the horrific times in history that weapons of utter destruction were used on populations. “I understand. I do. I’ve seen the,” I was about to say ‘results,’ but quickly corrected myself, “evidence of such.”
He cocked his head, “What are you talking about? Are you receiving visions from the runes now?”
“No, but the hills. We passed them by so long ago now it seems. The rolling hills between here and the Bechalle duchy, the buried civilization under them. The huge statues with only heads visible, the giant bridges from a bygone era. You talked about these before. I know what they mean. And, you know, the fire and lightning falling from the sky during battles, the dead and dying as a result.”
He nodded slowly, eyes locked on me. I felt, at some level, I’d lost his trust. He knew I wasn’t being forthcoming. Well, he wasn’t either.
“Will you figure out if you can undo it? The runes.” I was a bit worried, not knowing whether I wanted him to take away my new magical abilities. They’d proved valuable with the assassin and certainly boosted my confidence, despite the accidental discharges. They seemed worth keeping. But to stave off his worry and distrust, I had to act like I wanted them gone. A part of me did.
“I will try to understand what is happening to you and how it was done. I don’t know if it can be reversed. Also, and this may present problems, as the grand magister is likely there. It is worth finding out what he’s doing, but he may not like that.”
“You think he’s going to . . . come for me?”
“I would like to know that.”
“Well, I am wearing this iron and am protected from direct magical attacks.”
“He’s perhaps the strongest wizard alive. I don’t know the iron alone would stop him. He could, for example, collapse the castle on top of you.”
The image of the giant wall of water slamming me into the river entered my mind. “Yeah, nowhere would be safe. Perhaps you can reason with him. Perhaps he can help you return me to normal.” Normal being wherever I came from or becoming a normal, if ruling, teenage girl? Maybe I should have taken up embroidery, like my ladies in waiting once suggested.
“We can hope. Your Highness, I came here to tell you that I’ll be leaving on the morrow. I didn’t mean to turn this into an interrogation, and I apologize for that.”
“Not at all. We’re both, ah, still learning about these damned runes.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear those words from you. But I also have another reason for coming. To introduce you to my temporary replacement.”
“Alright. Does he-”
“She. And, no. She knows nothing of your situation. Please, see that she remains ignorant of it, my lady. It was risky enough for you to trust me.”
“I understand. And Etienne? Thank you.”
He rose, went to the door, held it open, “Please come meet the princess.”
A lady entered, taller than me, thin. Her face was angular, defined cheek bones, slightly pointed chin. Her eyes were deep, deep blue and, the longer I looked at her, the more blue appeared on her face. Blue tints under her eyes, her dark hair reflected a slight inky blue in the light as she walked forward.
She curtsied before me, “Aisu, Your Highness.”
I stood and returned the curtsy, and it felt awkward, wrong, like I’d risen above this sort of thing. “Lady Aisu, nice to meet your acquaintance.”
Her features wrinkled, slightly, as if disgusted, but quickly regained an even-tempered composure.
“Oh, I apologize,” I said, “Wizardess Aisu.”
“Entirely my pleasure, my lady. I will assume Magister Etienne’s duties from the moment he leaves, without pause. It should go unnoticed by you.”
“So much does these days.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s nothing. I look forward to getting to know you better. Thank you.” As they left, it occurred to me that her name was well chosen. Perhaps wizards chose their names upon graduation? For the blue and elfin-like features seemed very ice-like.
***
It’d been a long day. Draining. Returning to my apartments in this castle, I wanted to talk to Morry, apologize. It wasn’t fair that I dumped my rage all on him. I’d been so childish. My stomach felt empty and awful, thinking about yelling at him.
After passing the guards – twenty now, most were sitting and playing some game, stood when I’d come – and opened the door, “Hey. Morry, I’d . . . hello?”
He usually waited for me by the fire, had some tea or ale set up in the common room, but no. Wasn’t in. My heart dropped. I’d driven him away. Damn.
I waited a bit, by the fire, maybe a long while, but my thoughts were dark and I didn’t like them stewing. So, I headed to my own room. Thought about bringing the guards the ale jugs that were here, but given the situation, I’d rather they were sober.
Even after I’d first come here, after months of sharing my bed with another girl who dressed and cleaned me, fretting about, I’d craved privacy. The weeks after Bechalle’s knife, the weeks of healing, I’d achieved that privacy. Loved every second.
Now it was so much loneliness.
Saph, why’d you have to go and stab me? You could have had the duchy! We could have laughed and flirted and drank and flirted with others and ruled.
She was fifteen. How’d she figure it out? Perhaps the close intimacy of the mistress of the bedroom. Or the closer intimacy she’d shared with this body before I’d come along.
Goddamn it, Saph.
If Brin were here, she’d hug me. Then she’d sit me on the bed and tell me that Saph knew what she was doing. Raised an aristocrat, with an education about statehood and power, she knew those actions consigned her family to death.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
The grand magister had been here. Guiding the dowager, the duke. Manipulating events. He was intelligent, educated. Understood how this situation would turn out. He knew of all people, Saph would be alone with me. It hit me like a gut punch. He’d placed a geas on the poor girl.
It was his fault she and her family died. Hanged!
I took off my jewelry. My irons. Deliberately, slowly. Dropped my self-control.
Like tossing a match into a stream of gasoline, purple and blue fire ran up and down my body. Stretching my arms out wide, the energy burned hotter, wider, wilder. I could kill them all. Mages be damned, they couldn’t stop me. I’d hunt them!
Then force a rule of law onto the people. All people! Abolish the aristocracy, crush those awful churches. Such awesome power at my fingertips, the fire raced around me, a vortex of flame burning red and white, hotter and hotter, cooking the very air.
This was me.
Dust fell past my gaze and I looked up. The stone was crumbling from the heat. The bed flashed into flame. Tapestries ablaze, fire raging upward.
I shut off the energy and created an implosion by the bed, killing the fires. Glass burst inward as the windows shattered, books ripped from shelves, tapestries torn inward, shelves in dressers tore open, the furniture itself rocking back and forth for a few moments, my ears ringing from the boom.
Shook my head to clear it, then ran over and tossed the charring blankets and tapestries to the stone floor. Stomped on them. Did not want those reigniting. Like waking up from a dream, I opened my eyes and marveled at the broken glass and ash covering the floor.
Damn. Just, damn. Held my hands up – normal now – stuck my jewelry back on. Bracelets first, rings, anklets, necklace, earrings.
Loud cawing by the window. I walked over. Ravens, crows, sitting along the rooftops. Lined up, all facing me. I shut the curtains.
Calmed the soldiers who rushed in to rescue me from all that noise, getting them to leave me alone, then double checked the blankets, tapestries, whatever, to be sure they were out, grabbed my things, found another room in these apartments. That, and I went back to the main room – no Morry – took the ale jugs I didn’t give to the soldiers and went and got right drunk.
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