“Lord Nelesquin has it correctly, granddaughter.”
Upon hearing Qiro’s voice, she turned and managed to keep a smile on her face despite the horror running through her. Her grandfather had been eternal and unchanging. Tall, slender, proud beyond arrogance, with thick white hair, a white goatee and moustaches, Qiro Anturasi had always been an image of power. He ruled Anturasikun as would an emperor, and was treated by many as something more.
But now he had become something less. Deep bags, dark and heavy, hung beneath his eyes. His hair had become matted and his beard had grown unkempt. He still held his head high, but his shoulders were slumped. As he walked toward her, his left leg moved stiffly, as if that hip refused to work. And his eyes, his icy blue eyes, which had always been keen, now somehow focused past her.
She tore herself from Nelesquin’s grasp and ran to her grandfather. She hugged him tightly and could feel him quake within her grasp. He returned the hug, weakly, and leaned heavily upon her.
“It has been far too long, Grandfather.”
“No, girl, no time at all. Much has been done.” A palsied hand stroked her hair. “My Lord Nelesquin has given me many tasks, but when I am done he has told me I am free to indulge myself. Soon I shall.”
Nirati looked at Nelesquin. “I think he needs a rest, a long rest. I will take him back to Kunjiqui and tend to him. Will you permit that, my lord?”
Nelesquin laughed. “That is an excellent idea. You have done wonderful work, Grandmaster Anturasi. I knew I was right to choose you. You have repaid my faith many times over.”
Choose him? Nirati frowned, then got under her grandfather’s right arm and looped it over her shoulder. “Come, Grandfather, I shall tell you stories. I shall tell you of Keles and his adventures.”
“Keles?” The old man’s voice softened and became almost wistful. “He was a handful, just like your father.”
“No, you’re thinking of Jorim, Grandfather.” She put her left arm around his waist and was shocked to find him so thin. She could have easily lifted him and borne him to her sanctuary like a child. “I dreamed of Keles, and he said he was in Felarati. Can you imagine?”
“A grandson of mine in the Dark City? No, this will not be permitted. I will stop it.”
Nirati tightened her grip. “Later, Grandfather, when you have rested. You always said you did your best work after rest.”
“Yes, yes, and this will take my best work.” Qiro kissed Nirati’s head. “I will always do my best for you.”
“And I for you, Grandfather.” She smiled, genuinely this time, and led him off.
And, after he admired his fleet sailing northwest, Nelesquin joined her.
Chapter Nineteen
3rd day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Nemehyan, Caxyan
Jorim Anturasi had progressed so quickly in his studies that the maicana took it as a sure sign he was Tetcomchoa-reborn-and even he began to wonder if it was not true. He kept telling himself it wasn’t, but the sheer joy he felt in learning magic made him question many of the convictions he’d held his entire life. He still accepted that magic was a bad thing, but perhaps only out-of-control magic was bad-the same way anything done without respect for tradition, and without discipline, was bad.
He knelt in his private chamber’s anteroom across a round wooden table from Nauana. She had proven an apt teacher and he’d quickly moved from simple to more complex invocations. The key to it all, as she had insisted the first day, was to find the mai that defined things.
The truth was the link to magic, and could be used to call it forth and shift the balance of things. And shifting the balance of more than just the elements was also possible; one could use magic to alter objects physically. Best of all, while there were traditional methods for doing anything, there usually were multiple ways an effect could be created. As he learned more complex magics, he came more quickly to the desired ends. And, often, the more refined methods, while requiring more concentration, exhausted him less than the crude methods.
Nauana’s dark eyes sharpened as Jorim took a small wooden bucket from Shimik and poured golden sand in the center of the table. He tossed the empty bucket back to the Fenn, then scratched him behind an ear. Shimik fell over backward into a somersault and rolled away toward Jorim’s bedchamber.
“Tetcomchoa, I do not understand why you have this sand here. The lesson for today does not require sand.”
“I know, Nauana, but I had an idea and wish to try something.” Jorim touched a fingertip to the sand, then brushed away all but a single grain. “If this works, I think you will see something completely miraculous.”
She smiled, but slid back from the edge of the table. “As my lord wishes.”
“Thanks for the display of confidence.” He forced himself to relax, then concentrated on the grain of sand. Because it was so small, he found it difficult to identify at first. Solidity was the easiest aspect to grasp, with a hint of light. As he located it within mai, he found a strong connection between it and the rest of the sand, which did not surprise him too much. He had already learned that like was connected to like, and part of one thing was always connected to the other parts.
Slowly, he began to play with the balances of reality. First he used magic to make it light enough to float. That was not difficult given how little it weighed. The hard part was in retaining enough weight so it didn’t shoot up to the ceiling. After a few ups and downs, he centered it a finger length above his fingertip.
Then he began to play with heat. He channeled the mai into it and felt it begin to warm. Knowing his goal was within reach, he pumped more in. The grain of sand warmed, then became incandescent.
Then it exploded into a puff of vapor.
Nauana blinked, then leaned forward. “Are you all right, my lord?”
The barest hint of fatigue washed over him, but he nodded. “I’m fine, Nauana.”
“Was that the miracle, Lord?”
“No, not quite. Watch.” He picked up a handful of sand, raised it to face height between them, then slowly let it drift down. Using the mai, he caught the falling sand and held it suspended as a small sphere in the air. “Nor is this, yet.”
She said nothing, but watched the sand intently.
Again Jorim located the sand through the mai, and this time used the connectedness of it all. He slowly began to rebalance it so it would become warmer and warmer. As it began to heat up, he recalled his previous error and used the mai to alter another balance. Very carefully, while allowing the heat to continue to rise, he shifted the balance of the sand from solid to fluid.
When he’d first arrived on the Stormwolf in the land of the Amentzutl, he’d noticed a number of things which were common in the Nine, but nonexistent among the Amentzutl. One was horses, and the other was the wheel-at least as something to be used for more than a toy. While some on the expedition wanted to brand the Amentzutl as hopelessly primitive, wheeled transport was highly impractical in their rugged, mountainous land. When the expedition’s military had used war chariots against the Mozoyan, the Amentzutl had been impressed and even credited him with a miracle in their production.
One other thing the Amentzutl lacked was knowledge of glass. Jorim’s knowledge of it was not much more than basic, but he did know that sand, if heated enough, would become a thick, viscous fluid that could be shaped. While he had none of the skills of a glass artisan, mai and his ability to control it did give him some tools to manipulate the glass.