Components of a caster, p.1
Components of a Caster, page 1
Copyright © 2021 D. Hale Rambo
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.
ISBN: 978-1-7361281-2-1 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-7361281-3-8 (eBook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021925239
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Chapter one
Rocking her foot back and forth, Laysa watched the dim corridor of Holy Speaker Carmela’s home. She felt sticky with anxious heat. Her dark-brown kinks and coils made her head feel heavier than it already was. The office door behind her was closed, and she listened intently for any sound coming from inside. Her attention was torn between the darkened stairs down the hallway and Zizy, who was currently on the other side of the door stealing a possibly priceless magic item.
Zizy was adept at stealing, so half her worry was only of her timing. If the Holy Speaker found them there… She couldn’t even imagine the trouble. Zizy would undoubtedly do something rash, and before Laysa got over her shock of meeting one of the most powerful and admired people in all of Shawia they would probably be in the guardhouse.
She smiled at the thought of Zizy as she brushed an errant brown curl out of her eye. Having only met her a little over a month ago, she liked how well they got on. Like two bookends that settled on a shelf rather nicely. Each different but comparably so. Their travels so far had not been what she originally expected when they set out from Shaw, the capital of her nation. Between the fire at the library where she previously worked as a scribe, the underground adventures, and now theft of the highest order, she had experienced more in these brief five weeks than she ever had in her life.
She fingered the silver bee pin attached to her brown and tan linen dress. The blue gem that made up the insect’s lower body—a sapphire, Zizy had told her—looked dull in the dark hallway. She loved the way it glimmered catching the warm burnt-orange light whenever they were out in the sun.
It was a token she had gotten from an almost lethal run-in with a locked box and her insatiable curiosity. While on a job to empty a caster’s home (not that they’d known he was a caster at the time), she came across the box among his journals and books. It seemed so small and tucked away. It was clearly loved, as the box was well worn as if it had been opened and closed dozens of times. Her curiosity got the better of her when she opened it, and that was all she remembered until she came around again the next day. She ran a coarse finger over it as she thought about all Zizy and Pace had done to save her life.
She hoped Pace was alright. A Brix like herself, he had joined Zizy and her on their journey here. He was a kind soul and so quiet and serious. It’s a wonder they didn’t drive him batty that first day. Although he would never believe it, Laysa thought him about as stubborn as Zizy, just for different reasons.
It took her time to notice an ancient rusty-red-skinned Brixan woman at the top of the stairs. The eggplant robes almost swallowed her short stature whole. Large swathes of gray curly hair were piled high on her head. Her pleasant face, round and deeply wrinkled, held wide eyes at seeing Laysa.
Laysa stood up straighter and smiled wide to hide her fluster. “Apologies, Holy Speaker, I was just waiting outside your office for our appointment.”
The Holy Speaker’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and her eyebrow raised. “I see. And how did you find your way up here? My official office is at the library.”
Laysa moved toward the Holy Speaker to block her path from the door. She raised her voice a touch, hoping Zizy heard it through the thick wood. “Your steward showed me up.”
The Holy Speaker moved past Laysa with graceful ease, her scent of fresh paper and dust wafting not unpleasantly. She opened the door of her office and strode into the room. “You say my servant showed you the way?”
Laysa, startled for a moment by how the Brix ignored her, quickly followed. “Yes, Holy Speaker,” she said, trying to sound truthful. She adjusted her glasses. She needed to buy some time for Zizy to leave. She didn’t spot her anywhere but assumed she was still there. It was a dark room save the candles glowing in each corner. She stood on a fluffy grape rug spread from the doorway to an expertly placed large dark wooden desk in the center of the room. Neatly stacked papers, books, and the crate she had previously given to the steward were before her.
Bookcases, glass display cases, and deep wooden cases that Laysa couldn’t even see into covered each wall. Pedestals were posted in each corner of the room below the bobbing candlelight. One had the glass dome removed and stood empty.
She quickly dropped her gaze to the floor. She hoped she wasn’t horrible at lying, having not much needed it in the past. After a quick glance at the open door, she turned her attention back to the older Brix to see her bent fingers outstretched.
“A lovely pin you have there.” The Holy Speaker fingered the bee pin on Laysa’s dress. Her lips moved quickly and quietly, and before Laysa understood what she said, a brief flash of bright gray light was emitted from her finger. Laysa shut her eyes to avoid being blinded.
For a moment, Laysa felt herself covered by a net, the lines pressing hard into her fleshy skin. She started to push at the imaginary strands, but in less than a second it disappeared. In its place was a heavy floral scent of rose and lilacs clashing against each other. A hummingbird’s wings’ worth of energy brushed every inch of her rapidly and wafted the smell around her. The energy was unlike anything she’d felt before, and she focused her attention on Carmela’s smiling face. She couldn’t look away. Scared and trembling, she gazed into Carmela’s umber eyes.
Carmela relaxed back on her heels. “Tell me the specific reason you are here.” Her gravelly voice almost barked the direction. Her gaze swept about the room slowly.
“To deliver books to you,” Laysa said without meaning to. She really wanted to tell Carmela almost anything to satisfy her. There was a gnawing curiosity in the back of her mind, but her focus was pulled to Carmela.
Carmela murmured, “Tell me: Are you alone?”
Yes. “No,” Laysa choked out. That wasn’t what I meant to say. If she asks more, I’ll—
“I see I need to be more specific. I am very rusty at this, you know, dear,” Carmela said, leaning in toward Laysa. In clipped words: “Tell me: Who are you here for?”
Anyone but—“Zizy.”
“Tell me: Who sent Zizy?” Carmela said, frowning, her tone sharp.
“Emb—” Laysa began. A warm hand clasped around her own and jerked her toward the door. Zizy hadn’t left her after all. Laysa stumbled but regained her footing and ran out the door and down the darkened hallway. She squeezed Zizy’s invisible hand and then stopped, frozen. The energy that had previously swirled around her tightened and coldness draped over her skin, like being submerged in a river in the early morning. The scent of it changed to something she didn’t recognize. Metallic. She wished she could rub herself warm, but she was locked into place staring ahead into the darkened hallway, an invisible Zizy just ahead of her, presumably also frozen.
Laysa tried to speak and struggled against the coldness. She couldn’t move. Her curiosity, the gnawing thought that she couldn’t focus on earlier rolled into her immediate thoughts: What sort of magic was this? The earlier bright-pink spark had no markers of the typical magic of an Orison, one who received magic from their chosen deity. No ritual had been performed or prayer spoken. No supplemental gestures to invoke the Farmer, the main deity of the Brix. Does the Holy Speaker understand spellwork like Zizy?
“I am no longer accustomed to entertaining spies who can still hold their powers within my home,” Carmela said, walking up behind them. “Clearly Emba has been busy these past hundred years or so. I never thought to hear that name again.”
A tincture of green light like dripping ink outlined a gnome-shaped form ahead of her and Laysa saw Zizy’s invisibility drop. Zizy slipped her hand from Laysa’s grasp and stepped in front of her frozen body.
The Holy Speaker’s magic seemed powerful. From the small amount she had learned from Zizy, Laysa knew spellwork was a heavily learned subject. It had to be taught, and by someone who knew it well. It couldn’t be mastered overnight. For the Holy Speaker to cast such magic so quickly meant she must’ve been studying it for a long time. Was Emba also this strong in spellwork? No wonder Zizy was so afraid of her.
“Let her go. This is all my fault,” Zizy said, her voice heavy. Laysa turned her attention back to Zizy, bold as ever.
“Oh, I won’t harm her,” Carmela said. “I have no interest in that type of altercation.”
“How do you know Emba?”
“Did she not tell you? We grew up together. You know, our species were created at the same time. The exact same day even.” The Holy Speaker chuckled hollowly. “Emba and I, among others, were like family. But families do grow apart sometimes.” A hint of softness lingered in her voice. “ Suffice it to say, it was a long time ago in a very different world. But clearly she has not forgotten. Now, I want you to put that on the ground and take a step back, dear.”
Laysa strained at her cold bonds. She wanted to tell Zizy no, to forget it and not do what Carmela said. If Zizy gave Carmela back the Sandtimer, what would Emba do to her?
“Emba never forgets,” Zizy said. “And she won’t forget my failure if I don’t bring this to her. You know what she’s capable of. If you mean us no harm, just let us go with it.”
“Of course, I could have you arrested,” Carmela warned.
Laysa heard the thud of Zizy letting the Sandtimer drop. She closed her eyes in resignation.
“This could work out well for me all the same.”
Laysa heard unrecognizable sounds behind her. It made her angry to be trapped like this, and she swallowed as she felt hysteria bubble up in her.
“Yes, very well. Now, you must get your prize to Emba. Laysa, you’ll stay safe here with me,” Carmela said almost brightly.
Laysa was baffled by the Holy Speaker. Did she want to help or not? If she stayed behind, this would be their chance to ask questions. Was she safer with Carmela? If Emba’s power was anything like this, then possibly.
The air shifted and her body relaxed. The cold air and metallic smell dribbled away from her. She was in control again. She looked down to see Zizy’s wet ruby face and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in their reassuring code.
“See, a token of my goodwill,” Carmela said. Picking up the Sandtimer, she traced on top of it. In a flash of dark-orange light, a burlap sack appeared out of thin, minty-scented air. She closed the bag, pulling the drawstring, and handed it to Zizy. “You are meddling in things you do not comprehend, child, and I am sure this is not the first time you’ve heard that. Deliver this to Emba. Laysa will be fine.”
Laysa looked at Carmela’s relaxed demeanor, her wrinkled face in a smile. She looked almost…happy. Happy to spend time with Laysa or because of whatever she had just done to the Sandtimer?
“What did you do to it?” asked Zizy, shrugging away from Carmela.
“Don’t get clever. I can see through your parlor tricks now that I know who taught you. You haven’t even attempted anything beyond what a first-season caster would know. Deliver this to her and all will be well.” She stood there, arms crossed and relaxed, towering over Zizy. “Oh, and mind you don’t touch it yourself.”
Zizy turned her back on Carmela and looked at Laysa. “I’m so sorry,” Zizy said. She softly stroked Laysa’s face with her hand.
“I’ll be fine.” Laysa squeezed her hand. She believed it. There was so much to solve here, and it would only benefit them in the future if she learned more of Emba and Carmela’s past. “Go.” Laysa smiled reassuringly at Zizy. “Have faith in me. I’ll be alright.”
Zizy nodded, her eyes full of warmth, then ran down the stairs.
Laysa sighed quietly, exhausted but spirited by earning Zizy’s trust. She had wanted to see that look from Zizy for ages.
Adjusting her glasses, she turned her full attention to the Holy Speaker. “Am I safer with you?” Laysa asked. The spellwork cast on her had been restricting and intimidating, but the Holy Speaker hadn’t hurt her. We broke in of course. She was just defending herself.
“Then with that insufferable gnome? Yes of course. Emba doesn’t care about you or Zizy. You can be sure of that. Come,” she said, motioning as she strode back into her office.
Laysa felt her heart beating quickly and hoped it wasn’t apparent to Carmela. She took a deep breath and followed her in.
Chapter two
I wish I could see outside. The windowless room was suffocating. Seeing the streets of Shawia would let her know she wasn’t completely alone. She felt out of her depth but she plunged ahead, her mind focused on the only thing that mattered besides Zizy.
“How can you do spellwork? Why not teach others?” she said in a soft voice. The Holy Speaker was the first person besides Zizy she had met who cast spellwork. The difference between what Zizy could do and what had just happened was insurmountable.
Carmela chuckled. “Do you think I have time to teach others? That may be the focus of underlanders in their vaulted rocky domes, but it’s not mine here. And it’s not the Farmer’s focus either. The Brix don’t need spellwork to complete their lives. They need pleasant weather, warm nights, and to place their trust in their creator. That pleases the Farmer, and that is all I need to teach here.”
Laysa bowed her head for a brief moment, chastised, but the rebuke sounded hollow. It’s possible she doesn’t teach because she doesn’t want anyone to know how powerful she really is. She knew it was an uncharitable thought but pressed, “If that’s all the Farmer wants, how do you know so much spellwork?” Laysa motioned to the books and continued, her voice warming to the subject: “You have direct access to tomes and restricted library sections that no one else does. You—”
“Do you question me because of the injustice you feel I am doing toward our people, Laysa? Or because of the knowledge you think I’ve withheld from you?”
Laysa was silent. Her face grew hot and she shook her head, indignant. “People have a right to information that’s freely given elsewhere. If you have knowledge but you restrict it, you’re doing them a disservice.” It can be both. We’re all in the dark and you withhold the light. Why?
Carmela glanced at Laysa, an eyebrow raised. “Anyone in this nation is free to travel, learn, or do as they please. Those who stay here are not doing so against their will, my dear.” She strode to the desk and sat in its petite chair. “Why did you request a job at the library in Shaw?”
Not sure which answer would carry her further, she started safely. “Because I love to read—”
Carmela waved the answer away as if it was an offensive odor. “Honestly? Are you sure it wasn’t to learn more? To find out things you didn’t know? To access information otherwise unavailable to you?”
Laysa cocked her head. She shouldn’t be so surprised by her astuteness. A lot was said about Carmela’s abilities as a Holy Speaker. But nothing much about her personally. Laysa trembled. She nodded, getting a grip on herself, and straightened her glasses, saying, “It was. I wanted a change from being the daughter of a local baker and an Orison.”
“Yes, your mother is Baya. She’s the Speaker for your hometown of Aishirah is she not? Did you not drop her name as a last resort to get access to the job?” Carmela said, leaning back in her chair.
“I wanted a change and to further develop my knowledge of the deities.”
“You thought in our archives there lay a way to further advance yourself with them and perhaps gain a bit of their power yourself?” Carmela paused, nodding to herself. “They rejected you, I ascertain?”
“They have,” Laysa said in a small voice.
“You can no more beg a deity to pay attention to you than you can a giant. And attention, devotion, and loyalty is often needed when working with a deity’s magic, but spellwork”—she drew out the word—“requires no such relationship.” She opened her arms at the revelation.
Laysa wet her lips nervously. “What does it require?” she asked, and wondered if it was different than Zizy had said.
As if reading her mind, Carmela replied, “Oh, I’m sure the little gnome has told you all you need on that subject. Plus whatever else you rummaged from Lel Strozza’s place.” She waved toward Laysa’s dress.
Laysa glanced down at the bee pin. “You knew Strozza?”
Carmela smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she focused on Laysa. “I keep an eye out for outliers.”
Another non-answer. Laysa made her way over to the desk and sat slowly across from Carmela. They were almost the same height sitting down. Eye to eye. “What did you mean about you and Emba being family?” she asked ticking another curiosity on her list.
“I meant what I said. In the early days, before the deities were taken from us and our world torn apart, Brix, gnomes, and Cors were newly born together. We mixed with each other before going our separate ways. In a way, we were family, the first few generations of new species.”
Laysa said cautiously, “It sounded like you meant Emba had a personal connection with you.”
