City of Keys, page 9
A thrill of excitement coursed through her. It was only the size of her thumbnail, but the edges had sharp facets. She cleared her throat. Spat again. She had no pockets. With a sigh, she stowed the stone between her teeth and climbed the ladder on watery legs. When she got to the top, she spit it into her palm and held it out for Cairness’s inspection.
“That’s what I got,” she said. “It looks like kaldurite, but it can’t be. There’s ley inside. So what is it?”
Her voice sounded as raspy as the blind crone.
Cairness examined it with a frown. The light in the cavern was dim. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I have never seen this before. Give it to me.”
Nikola closed her fist. “It’s mine.”
Cairness blinked at the fierceness of her tone. “Very well. But you must show it to Heshima.”
The bright sunlight of the beach stabbed her eyes. When they reached the main cavern, Bethen ran up. “You have been gone three days, Nikola! I was only one and a half, and that seemed very long.” Her gaze went to Nikola’s closed fist. “I see you were successful. We knew you would be.” Her voice lowered. “Everyone heard what you did with Heshima. They talk of nothing else.”
Nikola allowed the girl to take her hand and draw her to the dining chamber, where food and drink awaited. She gulped down some water, clutching her prize beneath the table. Bethen was clearly burning with curiosity.
“I got agate,” she said, holding up the gem that now hung from her neck on a silver chain. “It’s—”
“Both projective and receptive,” Nikola muttered through a mouthful of rice. “Elements of both earth and fire. Used for courage, fertility, healing. A sovereign charm against the mages’ sorcery.”
Bethen’s eyes widened. “Yes!” She leaned forward. “Though I did not know the last.”
“Nor did I until a moment ago.” Nikola let her fork fall. She felt peculiar. Both sluggish and hyper-alert. Too many thoughts crowded her mind. “I wish to sleep. But not until I know how I have been named. Where is Heshima?”
“I am here.”
Nikola turned. The tall witch stood in the doorway.
“The Mahadeva will see you,” she said.
Bethen clasped Nikola’s free hand and gave it a squeeze. “Blessings to you, Nikola,” she said.
A fragment of her hate died at the girl’s lack of envy. Nikola smiled. “And to you, Bethen.”
The walk through interlocking caverns was a blur. She could not determine exactly how they reached the grotto. It didn’t seem right because she knew that the only passage led out to the sea. But minutes later she knelt before the witch-queen. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, wild chestnut curls fading to gray at the temples and at last, to pure snow.
“Show us!” the Maid said impatiently, sticking out a hand.
This time, Nikola deemed it unwise to refuse. She pressed the stone into the child’s eager palm.
It was shaped like a teardrop with bands of vibrant color that fractured the light. The center was the deep, smoldering red of banked coals. This faded to velvety black, then blue like the depths of a northern ocean. And, at the very fringe, akin to the outer ring of an iris, violet. It pulsed light and dark like a beating heart.
“What is it?” Nikola asked, transfixed by the stone.
“Serpent’s eye,” the Crone said. “The rarest of all gemstones.”
“A close cousin of kaldurite,” the Mother added. “But instead of repelling magic, it contains every layer of energy in equal measure. As such, it has elements of fire, water, air, earth and spirit.”
“We should keep it,” the Maid muttered. “She cannot be trusted with it.”
Nikola stiffened. “The stone was a gift from your god. For me!”
“She is right,” the Mother said sternly. “Give it back.”
The Maid’s mouth twisted, but she relinquished the stone. Nikola clutched it tight.
“Cairness said it would name me. What does that mean?”
“That you are strong enough to be a laoch,” the Crone replied. “A shield against the dark. Heshima will explain. But know this. You must not use the power in your namestone for anything but the final defense of your life. And even then, not all of it. If you do, there will be a steep price.”
“What price?”
The wrinkled lips pursed. “Let us hope you never discover it.”
“We must tell her,” the Mother said. “Else she will use it anyway.”
The Maid skipped in a circle around her. “You will die, Nikola Thorn,” she whispered with a glint in her eye.
The Mother tsked in disapproval. “Go comb our hair!” she snapped.
The Maid skulked away. Nikola paid her little attention. She sensed some of the stone’s properties, but it was far more complex than any she’d encountered before. Almost like several different stones melded together.
“We spoke truly,” the Mother said. “The ley inside that stone is bound to you. Sisters have died drawing too much. It is a weapon of final resort.” She smiled. “But you needn’t think of that now. You are safe here. And this should be a joyous occasion.”
Only the Mother seemed pleased. Heshima was regal and expressionless. And the Crone looked angry. The last gave Nikola no small degree of satisfaction. They didn’t expect her to get such a rare and powerful stone.
Nikola bobbed her head. “Thank you, Mother,” she said.
They left the cavern through a crevice. When Nikola glanced back, the wall behind looked solid again.
“We will begin tomorrow,” Heshima said. “Now, give me the stone so I can have it set for you.”
Nikola eyed her warily. The witch laughed. “No one wants to part with their namestone. But it will be safe with me. Or will you carry it around in your fist forever?”
She unfurled her palm, gazing down at the serpent’s eye. “I want it set in gold, with a silver chain. And tin for the backing.”
“It will be done.”
It took every ounce of Nikola’s will to hand the gem to Heshima. The witch she hated above all others. But she would play the part of an obedient novice until she had what she wanted.
Then she would destroy them.
Chapter Nine
The witches let Nikola sleep for a full day after the naming, but then her studies commenced again in earnest. The other two acolytes were given to Paarjini, but she had Heshima to herself. Nikola welcomed the chance to learn her enemy’s weaknesses—though so far she’d found none. Bethen said she was one of the most powerful witches on the island.
Heshima looked somewhere in her thirties, though it was hard to tell. She used the words magic and ley interchangeably—another stark difference from the Via Sancta, which viewed the power in strictly scientific terms. Oh, there was religion mixed in, but it was all for the betterment of humanity. How like them to take the fun out of it!
Nikola much preferred thinking of the ley as magic.
“Lithomancy has four primary branches,” Heshima explained. “Abjuration, illusion, divination, and conjuration. The first concerns protective spells, which will be your focus.”
“What’s conjuration?” she asked hopefully.
“It encompasses the most powerful—and dangerous—projective magic,” the witch replied. “That is not your concern at the moment. First you must learn to recognize and balance both types of energy. Which is your dominant hand?”
“Left.”
“Then that is the projective hand. For you, right will be receptive.”
“What would happen if I used the wrong hand?”
“The spell would not work. Or worse, it might backfire on you.” A dry look. “So try to remember.”
She gave Nikola two stones. One chalcedony, the other carnelian.
“Hold them. What do you feel?”
“The chalcedony is receptive. The carnelian projective.”
“What else?”
Nikola closed her eyes. “The first is ruled by water. The moon.”
“And the other?”
“Fire. The sun.”
“Which is stronger?”
“The carnelian,” she said immediately.
“Why do you think so?”
“Because it’s projective.” She opened her eyes.
Heshima smiled. “Yet if you were under attack, which would you want to have?”
“The chalcedony.”
“Just so. Neither is stronger than the other, they simply have different purposes. Now, can you sense the ley inside?”
Nikola gripped the stones, one warm, one cool. She saw other layers of power, for luck, eloquence, courage, yet in an abstract way. She had no idea how to actually use those properties. “I don’t think so,” she admitted.
“Because it is dormant. You have the tool, but it holds no purpose. That must come from your will. How do the stones make you feel? What emotions arise?”
Nikola tried to sort it out. “The chalcedony is peaceful. It makes me feel calm.” She shifted her focus to the other hand. “The carnelian . . .”
“What?”
Heshima’s deep voice stoked the embers of her hatred. “It feels . . . .” Nikola gasped in pain and dropped the reddish gemstone, shaking her hand. A blister rose on the palm.
“It is dangerous to seek in the ley inside a stone when your emotions run wild,” Heshima said, her face unreadable. “You have just learned your first lesson.”
“But you told me to do it!”
“And now we know that you are a hothead.” She sounded amused. “But that is your problem, not mine. Pick it up.”
Nikola held her gaze, then picked up the stone. “Is the power expended?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I thought they only worked once.”
“For some spells. Not others. Each stone or metal holds a finite amount of ley, but it depends on how much you used. Does it still hold ley?”
After being burned, Nikola felt wary, but she closed her eyes and relaxed. “How do I know?”
“Do you sense its properties?”
“Yes.”
“Then the stone still holds ley. Give it to me.” Heshima set the carnelian aside. She rooted in one of her pouches and gave Nikola another stone, nearly identical. “What can you tell me about this one?”
Nikola took the stone. She frowned. “Nothing at all except what I can see with my eyes.”
A nod of approval. “That is what a stone feels like fully discharged. It is dead and may never be used again. Now, I am going to use what is left in this one”—she held up the first piece of carnelian—“to set your dress on fire. I want you to use the chalcedony to stop me.”
Nikola blinked. “Now?”
“Why not?”
“Because you have not taught me how to do it!”
“Unfortunate, yes? But it gives you a strong incentive to learn.” She eyed the stone in her palm. Heshima’s eyes darkened to silver shadows.
Nikola gripped her chalcedony in a sweaty fist, heart hammering. Water . . . and calm. Protection—
She yelped as a flame erupted from the hem of her dress. She snuffed it with a handful of sand.
Heshima eyed her serenely. “What happened?”
“It didn’t work,” Nikola muttered.
“What didn’t work?”
“I tried to think of the stone’s properties. But they didn’t manifest.”
“Why not?”
Nikola itched to slap her. “Just tell me, witch!”
Heshima shook her head. “Do you remember nothing of what I taught you? What are the three principles of lithomancy?”
“Will, emotion, and technique.”
“So you do remember. Technique comes to you naturally. It is the others you lack. Let us try again.”
She lit Nikola’s dress on fire six more times. At last, Nikola tore the singed garment off and threw it down, enraged. After her initial smashing success, she’d expected to be good at this. But she was terrible.
“I suppose it will have to be your hair next time,” Heshima remarked. “Sit down.”
Nikola balled her fists and complied, simmering with resentment.
“When I was an acolyte,” the witch said, “I had the same problem. You doubt yourself.”
She shook her head. “It is the opposite. I am overconfident.”
“So you say. But you do not truly believe it.” Her gaze raked Nikola’s bare skin. “You have been treated poorly all your life because those fools in the Via Sancta had no idea who you are. They made you believe their lies.” Her gaze burned fiercely now. “But you have worth, Nikola Thorn. And I will set your hair on fire if that’s what it takes to convince you!”
A strange welter of emotions overcame her. I must hate her. I must.
Yet the witch’s words rang true. She’d left Malach because she knew with certainty that he would tire of her. And she secretly felt relieved that someone else had the child—even if it was Falke. She could never be a mother.
But perhaps she could be a witch.
“You are in control of the ley,” Heshima said. “You, and no one else. It will do as you command. Do you understand?”
She nodded, jaw tight. “Yes.”
“Then stop me, Nikola!”
This time, she saw the spell coming. A shockwave of red ley bursting from the heart of the carnelian. She sensed the witch’s will, giving it purpose like an arrow fired from a bow. The chalcedony went cold in her fist. A spark of power glimmered inside, ripe with potential. Nikola had time for a single urgent command. Save me!
The two energies met in a sizzling crackle. Calm and fury, ice and fire. She smelled burning hair and drew deeper, scrabbling for every speck of power. The contest was settled an instant later when an enormous wave reared from the shallows and soaked them both. Heshima gasped in shock, then let out a hoot of laughter.
Nikola was too startled not to join her. The slap of saltwater had severed her connection to the ley, but the stone was almost dead anyway. Only a residue remained.
“I think you drew from the quartz in the sand, as well,” Heshima said ruefully, shaking water from the stack of bracelets running up her forearms. “It holds projective power. But that is what happens when there is an imbalance in the energies.”
Nikola looked away. Their shared triumph felt too intimate. “I see how it is done now,” she said quietly.
“You see a tiny fraction,” Heshima corrected. “Is that what you intended to occur?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then you have a long way to go. But you have taken the first step. That is often the hardest.” She stood. “It took me two months to block a spell.” A dry chuckle. “I was singed bald by the time Anaji finished with me.”
“I would like to keep practicing,” Nikola said.
“And I have other duties besides you,” came the crisp reply. “It is enough for today.”
“Then leave me some stones. I will try them on my own.”
Heshima snorted. “You will not touch the ley without a sister present. I am willing to set you aflame, but I will not have your doing it yourself.”
Nikola frowned. “What will I learn next?”
“Simple illusions, perhaps. I will discuss it with Paarjini.” She regarded Nikola gravely. “When you are a full witch, you will carry a pouch with many different types of stones mingled together. You will wear stones in your hair, on your fingers. Carry coins in your pocket, forged from varying alloys.” A pause. “What would happen if you had no control over which ones you drew from? Or if you drew from them all simultaneously?”
Nikola blinked. “I cannot imagine.”
“Nor I. But a disaster it would be for certain. Do not allow your impatience to be your undoing.” Her voice hardened. “If you are caught practicing on your own, you will be cast out. There is no appeal. No second chances.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now go do your chores.”
Nikola sighed and followed her back to the caverns. She was used to hard work and didn’t mind it—but that was before, when she had no other interests besides drinking alone in pubs. Acolytes were expected to earn their keep doing laundry and helping in the kitchens. She had learned that there were many caverns like this one, with other novices in training. Witches seemed to come and go. Only Paarjini, Cairness and Heshima lived there, along with Bethen and Jenifry.
She spent the next days blocking spells with different stones. Then metals and crystals. Her confidence grew. Yet she wasn’t always sure what would happen. Once, she accidentally melted the sand into obsidian glass when she focused the wrong power from a ruby, drawing on the fire element rather than its protective quality. Heshima made her practice visualization techniques, imagining specifically what she wished to do with the ley. The witch would not allow her to touch anything when she practiced that.
It was days before Heshima trusted her with a stone again.
They turned to illusions, which Nikola found boring. She longed to go further, to delve into conjuration on her own, but fear of getting caught always stopped her. That and the fact that they guarded all the gemstones. After several weeks, she could form a passable illusion of almost anything, even herself, though it dissipated to mist when Heshima attacked it. Maintaining the illusion’s form required the use of several stones at once, and one of her weaknesses was a tendency to be distracted.
“Why must we learn to protect against other witches?” she wondered one day as they walked down the beach, gathering sea stones. “Aren’t you the only ones in the world?”
Heshima gave her the amused look Nikola despised. “What are the aingeals,” she replied, “but another kind of witch?”
“They don’t use lithomancy.”
“If one lays hands on you, you will find the difference to be very small, Nikola.” A cool smile. “Your eyes have not changed yet, but they will. Once that happens, you will be named as a witch by any aingeal who sees you. Not even illusion can veil your eyes.”
Nikola thought of the witch who had attacked Malach. Paarjini. She realized with a jolt how he had recognized her. “Why not?”
“No one knows for certain. Perhaps they are like the aingeals’ Marks. Once the magic brands you, you will never be rid of it.”
