Eventually, I left the balcony and sat on my bed where I cradled my grandmother’s tome. I was exhausted, but still fell into a restless urge to search for my family, to at least do something. From there I dipped my perception into the next world and began to search through a city-state of a million souls. I started the hunt at the celestial equivalent of the opera house, and then spread towards the port and the south.
It was tedious work involving far too many souls – still, I persisted. I also supposed whoever held them would be using some kind of shielding magic to keep them hidden, as they had before. Nevertheless, I continued.
Sef roused me from my hopeless search midmorning, to drag me from its misery. Of them, I’d not found a hint.
“Juvela, don’t fret, we’ll find them,” he said grave-faced.
My eyes burned from my tears. I’d also become cramped and lost to shivers, something that saw my voice shake, and my breath wheeze. All of it only made Sef fuss over me like my mother.
With a hoarse voice, I said, “Sef, I’m alright!”
“You look terrible…”
“Really Sef, I’m just a little tired.”
“You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“No.”
“Or slept?”
“No.” So lost in my misery, it hadn’t occurred to me. My stomach growled. I tried to laugh at its timing, but the sound came from me as a weak rattle that sent aches shooting through my chest.
“Juvela, you have to understand that magic is a taxing thing. I know what you did last night might seem simple, but I could feel the power you gathered, and the way it surged and boiled.” He knelt down in front of me with concern in his eyes. “You keep a great well of power in there,” he pointed to my belly, “but crafted only the smallest portion of it. To do so, to gather such energy and not spend it, or recover by properly resting and eating, will only see you waste away.”
I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t casting magic all about other people suffering the consequences?
He saw my confusion. “Juvela, the power’s corrosive, so much so that only a healthy body can withstand it. If you’re half-starved and tired, it’ll work away at your muscles and bones, it’ll even boil your blood away given the chance. It becomes a cycle, one that’s harder to recover from. If you’re not careful, it’ll kill you by burning you out.“
I nodded; what he said made sense, even if I didn’t appreciate the gravity of his words.
He saw that, and shook his head in anger. “Please, Juvela, you must be careful! You’re no ordinary magician…”
And that comment got my attention.
He went on, “I don’t know what you are, but I can feel such strong currents of power around you when you reach into your font. If you’re not careful, it’ll kill you; just look at your hands!”
What about my hands?
I looked down at them.
My long fingers normally lay thin and fair, and well covered with skin stretched not too tight. They weren’t now. I spread them before me as they trembled, my body lost to some kind of shock. Wrinkles ran their length, and the skin hung loose with folds and creases deep in the thin flesh, yet that wasn’t the end of it. I could see liver spots and other shadows, and a mix of sickening colours finished with yellowed nails.
I gasped.
Sef looked me in the eye. “Have I got your attention now?”
I nodded, horrified by the hag’s hands in front of me.
“We’ll get you some breakfast, and then we must go.”
My hands were reaching up for the flesh of my face, but I was already cringing at the wrinkles and folds I knew I’d find there. I whispered, “Go where?”
“Juvela, you need to change and eat. Don’t worry, you’ll get your youth back, and sooner than you think. Please, just do as I say. I’ll answer your questions downstairs.”
I nodded, still stunned. “Thank you, Sef.”
He got up and left me.
I went downstairs to find him stirring a pot of porridge over a freshly lit fire. He looked up and smiled. “It won’t be long.”
“Thank you.” I sat down, grateful to rest my weary bones.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?”
“Exhausted.” It seemed that the casting had taken a lot out of me.
My gaze left him to settle on the cooking fire, where I lost myself in the dance of its flickering flames.
“You really are tired, aren’t you?” His smile became a grin.
I rested my head in my withered hands. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”
To my surprise, he laughed. “I’m sorry, but I’m as confused as you.”
“You are not!” I snapped, and then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Sef, but I don’t understand any of this.”
“It’s alright.”
I smiled, grateful he’d chosen to ignore my tone. “Sef, why has it taken so much from me, to produce so little? Last night, I could feel a storm of power brewing in me, but all I magicked was a bucketful of glowing coins and handful of hot coals?”
He tended the oats before pulling up a stool. “Juvela, all power comes at a price. To be honest, I worry for you.”
“Why?”
“A good question, but one I can’t answer.” He shook his head in frustration, though he felt only a trifle of what troubled me.
“Sef, I need your help. Tell me what you can, even guesses, for it’s more than I already have.”
He sighed. “I don’t know where to start, so indulge me.” He gathered his thoughts for a moment, and then said, “I guess your own words are a good starting point.”
I nodded.
“You said that you felt your power brewing?”
“Yes.”
“I could feel it too, as could anybody sensitive to such things. You need to learn more discipline in that regard, so you can hide it, just as those of us who wield the celestial learn to hide our souls.”
“Why?”
“To keep them safe.”
“From what?”
He checked the oats before continuing. “The celestial is another world, but not like ours. It’s where magic comes from, and where spirits, souls, and the very gods dwell. It’s where the spark of life is born to flare, and we in this world, our mortal selves, are merely the smoke of those eternal fires.”
“I think I understand.”
He nodded. “The magic you work, as do I as a priest of Kave, is just us pulling some of that fire through, not just the smoke, but the actual flame. It’s a skill for only the strongest of souls. Simply said; the more power you can pull through, the stronger you must be. Learning and experience will expand your limits, but in the end we all have them.”
“I understand.”
He went on, “I’m surprised at the amount of power you can draw upon, even though you know so little of what to do with it. I suppose in time you’ll learn, but still, what you can gather astounds me.”
“Learn through the Cabal?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, until the pop and hiss of our breakfast drew his attention. After giving it a stir, he turned back. “I first noticed your soul when I started working for your parents. It’s old and powerful, and always held a complex weave.”
“Am I a Cabalist?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Perhaps you need to talk to others…”
I snorted. “Others! Sef, my parents know nothing of this, and I can’t trust anyone else. I can’t rely on my grandmother, as her aid is sporadic, and Kurgar promised to help me with the Cabal, but has done nothing since. If I’ve a powerful soul, then you’d think it might be a priority, the way the city is falling apart, to teach me how to use it!”
He grabbed two bowls and split the steaming brew. He handed one to me, the biggest, and then topped it with some syrup. “Eat up, all of it.”
I took it, but only felt bad again for my tone. “Sorry, Sef.”
“It’s alright.”
We began to eat.
After a short silence, he looked up and said, “What about your grandmother? What’s going on? I saw what happened when we neared the Inquisitor and she tried to use you to confront him. Is she always struggling for control?”
“No!” I was surprised at his choice of words. “I sometimes hear her voice warn me of things, and often it comes accompanied by others. Only once has she tried to force me to do anything, back then in the coach. I think she wants to help me, to awaken my magic, but Inquisitor Anton’s arrival has also awakened her thirst for revenge.”
He gave a grim smile. “We’ll just have to watch her. It would also help if you tried to talk to her.”
“How?”
“In the celestial. You know how to get into that world, to drag your perception across?”
I nodded. “I can do it, but I’m not really conscious of how I do it. It seems more a reflex.”
“That’s good; it took me a full season to master. When you’ve time, you need to go into the celestial and speak with her. She’s bound to you, so I’m sure she’ll not be hard to find. Talk to her and discover her truth. It’s the only way to work out what her part in all this is.”
I sighed as I put down my half empty bowl. “And what will that do to me?” I asked, while spreading my wrinkled fingers, though their colour had already improved.
“All magic has its costs, but shifting your perception between worlds is one of the easiest things to do. When you finish your meal, you’ll be surprised to see how much your skin will renew itself.” He gave a wry smile. “The years will just fall away.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure if I should believe him, yet I picked up my bowl and got back to eating.
“Juvela, you gathered enough power last night to torch Market Square, but you didn’t release it. It’s a miracle that you didn’t burn yourself out – and I mean that literally. That’s why you look as worn as you do.
“You need coaching, guidance, and improved skills, all those things will help. Most importantly, you need to learn to gather only the power you want for whatever casting you’re trying to complete.”
I interrupted, feeling that I finally understood something. “The power I felt last night used my soul as a gateway into this world, didn’t it?”
“Almost. It used your soul as a gateway out of the celestial, and your body as a gateway into this world.”
“It felt incredible, so vital and alive.”
He nodded. “And after you summoned it, drawing in such a great flood, all you did was hold onto it and melt a single cobble!” He shook his head in disbelief. “You could have turned night into day, or called a firestorm!”
I didn’t know what to say.
He went on, “You stir such power, and so easily, it’s why so many people are interested in you.”
“Who?” I asked around another mouthful of porridge.
“I’m sure Lady Death is curious, as are some of my fellows, and also the Inquisitor. And then,” he paused, “then there was when Mortigi himself came and marked you.” He watched for my reaction.
I remembered the icy pain, and the feeling of being overwhelmed by an anger so hateful that it had to be divine. It had all come after Lady Death cursed me. Chilled by the memory, I swallowed and whispered, “Yes.”
He nodded. “Yes!”
I just looked to him.
He said, “It’s true, Mortigi himself branded you with his mark!”
With a hesitant voice, I asked, “And what does that mean?” I then took another mouthful of porridge.
Thankfully, his animation drained away, his manner becoming more sober. “It means that all his followers will know you, and that their master has a bounty on your head.”
I choked on my breakfast. “The god of murder wants me dead?”
“Yes, but don’t fear…”
“Don’t fear!”
He shifted, becoming uncomfortable at my distress. “Trust me, you’ll be well protected.”
I gasped, “Sweet Schoperde, what hope is there?”
With a firm voice, he said, “There’s always hope, that’s why we search for Pedro and Maria.”
He was right.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Why didn’t he just kill me?”
“Because, to be honest, this way you suffer more; living each day while wondering if it’s your last.”
I just stared at him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I was shaking my head. “How can I not worry? I just want my family back!”
“In all this you’re not alone, others also live with divine marks.”
“Who?”
“Anton is marked by many gods, and so too is Lady Death…”
Such exalted company…
“…and even me, your loyal Sef.”
“What?”
“I’m also marked, but in a lesser way. Regardless, one day my time will come.”
And then I had a thousand questions and fears for him, but only one found my mouth. “Who?”
“It’s something we can discuss another time, and I mean it, but for now we need to talk about you.”
I nodded, but sat in silence, still stunned by his news. After a while, I asked, “Why did Lady Death curse me; because of the light?”
“It was more because of the power she sensed stirring in you.”
“Can I really call on that much?”
He nodded again. “Though it all comes to nothing if you can’t do anything with it.”
He was right.
“Juvela, the gods have never looked to me in the celestial, or moved to mark me with such a strong curse. If they did, it’d kill me.”
This was all getting to be too much.
“Juvela, you’re not a witch of the Cabal – I think you’re something else.”
We sat in an uncomfortable silence, looking to each other. Sef then checked my bowl, chuckling, pleased that I’d nearly finished. “Good eating and sleep will solve your problems in regard to the cost of magic. You’re still human and need to take care of yourself.”
His words reminded me of how tired I felt. “I believe you.”
“Good.”
“You know, last night I felt something in my soul weaken and crack. I don’t know what it was, but with it breached, I seemed to be free to draw upon the power that leaked through.”
“What?” Now Sef looked confused.
“It was holding my power back, blocking it, but I got so angry and frustrated that I think the barrier somehow broke.”
“A barrier?”
“It allowed me to gather power in the celestial, but stopped me from bringing it through. I’m certain it remains, but now it’s damaged. Do you know what it is?”
He shook his head. “Let me look at you.”
For a moment his words puzzled me, but then his eyes lost focus; he’d slipped into the celestial. I followed.
The blue-white of his life-light shone out against the dark of the void. I could sense that he was scrying me, as he looked deep into my soul.
Without thinking, my soul shifted and threw up a layer of soul-stuff to shield me from his prying. I marvelled as I studied it, realising I could draw it back or add to it to dim the glow of my own life-light. It was a kind of armour, and the more layers I put up, the more my soul dimmed. Of course, that wasn’t helping Sef as he tried to examine me, so I pulled my newly discovered defences down.
I heard his voice, “Juvela?” His perception was back in the real world, so I also returned.
He looked to me and asked, “How do you feel?”
“Alright, not so tired.”
“You’ve learnt to shield yourself?”
“Yes, just now. The first movement came as a reflex, but I think I can control it.”
He nodded.
I asked, “What did you see?”
“A couple of things, but firstly look at your hands.”
I did. The skin had tightened, not yet back to its norm, but well on its way. “That was easy.”
“Hmmm, don’t be fooled. Recovery can sometimes take days, or even seasons. That’s if the casting doesn’t kill you outright.”
“I’ll just have to be careful.”
He nodded, but was still largely lost to his thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
After a moment, he said, “Nothing.”
“Did you see something?”
He looked me up and down and nodded. “I noticed… I noticed a couple of things.”
“Like?”
“Well, some of what I’m going to say will just raise more questions, but maybe we need to discuss them. You should also remember that they’re only my opinions. You need to talk to other people; cabalists and the like, and your grandmother too.”
“Alright, but you’re a priest of Kave, so you’re celestially capable and know something of all this. I really want to hear what you think. You’re the one I trust.”
“I do know something of this, but you’re more powerful than me. In truth, I haven’t seen what you are before. You’re different.”
“How?”
“The song, let’s start with the song.”
“Schoperde’s song of sorrow?”
“Yes, many Flet women sing the song to help them mourn. You do too, but when you sing it, I can feel the power ripple around you. It’s why Anton silenced you on the balcony when Maria and Pedro were stolen away; you’d begun to sing it out of grief, but he thought you were casting.”
“Casting?”
“When you sing it, it’s as if Schoperde joins you in song.”
I shook my head in confusion. “Why would she do that? I believe in her, you know I have my faith, but she doesn’t even have the strength to offer blessings, let alone to sing with me. By all the gods, in Ossard she doesn’t even have priests! Why would she offer me anything?”
“That’s the real question.” He left his stool to kneel in front of me. “Juvela, I think you’re to be her priest.”
I just stared at him, stunned by the idea.
And at the back of my mind, my grandmother hissed.
I asked, “How could that be?”
“Why not? Witchery often passes from mother to daughter, or on to granddaughter, but it doesn’t have to. What’s really being passed on is a bloodline’s taste for the celestial, something that attracts strong souls.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Sef went on, “Look at Ossard and what’s happening here; the gods are coming, and they’re rallying their servants to their banners. I think you’ve heard some kind of calling and are reacting to it,” he paused, swallowed, and then whispered, “perhaps you’re even an avatar!”
An avatar – a mortal born god yet to awaken!
“No!” I gasped, frightened by the very idea. “How could that be? How could that happen when I know so little?”
He patted my hands. “Maybe that’s the shackle that binds you.”
“An avatar? It’s too much, I can’t be! I’d be more aware of it, wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Avatars are always alone and very rare.” He chuckled to release some of the tension. “I’d certainly be worried if more than one was around!”
“Why, what would that mean?”
“The end of the world; the divine war at the end of all time.”
His words reminded me of my grandmother’s tome.
He got up and off his knees, and went back to his stool.
I said, “Perhaps you’re right, perhaps my magic is aligned to faith.” I went on, thinking aloud, “I suppose with the suppression of our people’s religions such a calling might somehow be delayed.”
“Our beliefs are here, but weak. The dogma is half-forgotten. Look at Schoperde; there are still a few priests in the wilds of Fletland, but there’s none left here in Ossard. Her last priest here was forced out twenty years ago.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Seig told me. He said Ossard’s Flets don’t talk about her.”
“Why?”
“Because someone gave her truth to the Inquisition during their last campaign; it’s what caused the Burnings.”
I was horrified. “Sweet Schoperde! What happened?”
“She fled. She got out of the city and headed into the Northcountry, from where she planned to cross to Fletland. It was Iris I think, Iris Grendabanden, or something like that.”
“I’ve never heard of her, or of what you say, but I can understand people not talking about it if a Flet willingly gave up her name. Such an act would have shamed all of Newbank.”
He nodded. “From my understanding, a faith like Schoperde has dogma that’s not overly deep. It’s more a matter of accepting your connection to her, and then submitting to it.”
“Yes, that’s right. Of course, in Fletland they also have traditions of celebrations and observances tied to the seasons and the like, but that’s not something we can do.”
“No, not while the Church watches.”
We sat in silence for a moment before I asked, “And if it’s not that, if I’m not a newly discovered servant of the gods,” I snorted in laughter, “or an avatar?”
“Juvela, we’ve been talking about you.”
“We?”
“The Guild, and those who’ve sensed your emerging power. You’re no trickster, and what I’ve said here is not unlike what’s been spoken elsewhere.”
My jaw dropped. “Sef!”
“Truly.”
“This is nonsense! I’m a wife and a mother, not an avatar!”
“Listen to me, and listen with an open mind. You’re not just gifted, or able to draw upon great power, you’re also something different.”
I shook my head.
He went on, “I, like most priests, can only draw upon thin streams of magic, anything greater would burn me out. As soon as I draw it into me, I have to manipulate it, and then cast it out. But you can handle it. You let it flood in so much more than anyone I’ve ever seen, and then you can even hold it!”
“Sef, this is too much!”
He shook his head. “Listen to me, look at how quickly you learned to defend yourself just now!”
I held up my hands. “Please, let’s leave it!”
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s been said, if it’s that important.”
“There are many faiths in Fletland, more than you can know. Some speak in terms of prophecy, and such things often become tales to be told in taverns, or by the glow of camp fires.”
“Like what you told me when I was young?”
“I suppose, but what I’m telling you now is what some people actually believe.”
“I understand.”
“Most of them speak of the same sort of thing: They tell of one of our own who’ll rise to lead us to sanctuary, a time and place free of catastrophe.”
“What! And people think that’s me?”
He shook his head. “No, this saviour is suppose to be a warrior, but he’s put onto his path by a priest from amongst us; a spirit-guide. This priest helps him awaken to his truth, which is what will trigger his rise. In the end, that saviour becomes our leader, and also the king of our foes.”
I sat back, astounded that anyone would link such a thing to me. “You don’t believe this, do you?”
“No, prophecy is the talk of fools. The world just doesn’t work that way.” He sighed. “Juvela, look at our people; we’re dying. Our time in Ossard seems over, and our place in Fletland has never been secure. In another one hundred years, with or without the genocide, our people will be finished. Something as simple as a few bad harvests or a plague will end it.”
I’d never heard such talk, but knew it held some truth.
He went on, “Banditry, disease, and the lingering hatred of the genocide; it’s all taking its toll. The bitterness is killing us.”
It was a glum thought. Ossard, even as a Heletian city-state, stood as Unae’s largest Flet community. Its loss would be a terrible blow. If Ossard went, so would an important branch of our people – the branch that gave the rest hope.
I said, “There aren’t tears enough for our history, let alone any prophesied calamities to come.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry about it, they’re just stories.” He laughed. “Besides, have you met anyone who’d make a good king?”
I smiled as I shook my head. It was ludicrous, all of it.
Sef asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Good. Now, if you’re up to it, we should go to the Guild.”
“To check on things?”
“Kurgar has sent out a declaration to the Inquisitor and the followers of the new saints; it confirms Newbank as a self-governing district.”
I laughed.
He smiled. “Yes, I think we can guess the Inquisitor’s response, but who knows of the new saints?”
“But no one knows where their leaders are, or who they are?”
He nodded. “That’s the thing. If an answer comes, I was hoping we might learn something from it.”
“You’re right.”
Sef began looking about, suddenly distracted. He got up and walked towards the kitchen’s high window.
“What is it?”
“Can’t you smell it?
I stood and joined him. “Fresh smoke.”
The window rose above us, small and barred. It was made more for ventilation than views, yet through it we could see a sky turning grey and dark.
Sef fetched a stool and stood on it. “The port burns!” He couldn’t see the port itself, just thick plumes rising from its direction. They marked fires that looked to be worse than those of yesterday. “Someone’s torching buildings.”
I said, “Come, we’ll hear more at the Guild.”