Evenfall, p.9
Evenfall, page 9
“One of my ancestors was a healer,” she tried again, her words slower this time. “She wrote of how the magic in our veins affects our system. How it makes us burn through food faster…and, mercifully, the same goes for our drinks.”
“You’re telling me that you lit up an entire square to get sober?”
“Not intentionally! It was supposed to be just a simple trick… You know, something to keep my mother from finding out. Not an escort from the Prince’s guard back to my house and a fine for scaring dozens of citizens.”
I couldn’t help it. I broke out in roaring, choking laughter. And Ada joined in.
Our outburst gained us a few glances, but the people casting them appeared to be thrilled that someone was having a bloody good time, nothing more. They weren’t wrong. Tears wetted the corners of my eyes once I was finally able to stuff some air into my lungs, although my shoulders kept shaking.
One look at Ada told me she wasn’t any better off herself.
Our gazes locked, and another round of laughter erupted. My fingers tightened around the pitcher of sowhl.
Sun claim me, but the need to try was suddenly far louder in my ears than the warning that I didn’t have any means of erasing the alcohol from my blood. But given where we were, I was fairly certain Ada wouldn’t succumb to the temptation of another round, and I certainly had no desire to lose even a second in this world to the haze too many drinks liked to place upon my mind. Useful at parties, dreadful on days when you didn’t want to miss a thing.
I lifted the pitcher in salute. “Here goes nothing.”
Ada watched me with an odd combination of feline curiosity and innocent intrigue as I brought the glass to my lips, tipped it, and…
I swallowed down a cough. “Sun, that’s strong!”
Yet even as I struggled, I couldn’t deny this alcoholic thunderstorm had a nice taste to it. After one regained the wits the drink had tried to burn down to ashes.
Carefully, I took another sip, this time letting the taste swirl through my mouth before the sowhl slid down my throat, scorching, but bearable. Mischief gleamed brightly in Ada’s green eyes.
“Better?”
“Much,” I admitted, then bravely ventured to tip the pitcher a third time.
It wasn’t all that bad, but I knew one of these was enough for one day. Or a week.
Still, I was grateful Ada had brought me here, even if it was just part of her plan. Somehow, the chatter of people all around me, the laughter, the illusions dancing across the painted-over night sky, and the company of a peer who wasn’t bullied by her parents until she became their painful model of virtue and grace… It felt good. It felt—it felt like I belonged.
“So this Eriyan we’re meeting…” I started, quiet enough to not be overheard. “Who is he? Friend? Lover?”
Ada nearly choked on her sowhl.
“Lover…” She snorted and shook her head. “Definitely no lover. He’s an Illusionist. One of the best in Somraque, though don’t tell him that. Unless you want your ears to fall off from listening to his self-praise. Eriyan can be as full of himself as he’s powerful.”
“Wait… But you’re a Mage. Doesn’t that make you, you know, stronger?”
“It does,” she agreed, then drank another mouthful. “More versatile, too. But a good Illusionist has the ability to specialize, really hone their skill. And Eriyan—there’s no one quite like him when it comes to making people invisible.”
“Right you are,” a cheerful voice bellowed out of thin air on my right.
I jumped away out of instinct and almost upended the entire damn table as I slammed into it with my side, ribs screaming from the hit.
Ada swore, then scrambled to catch her pitcher, but mine…
It careened over the edge—and hovered in midair.
I felt more than saw Ada shooting daggers at the invisible man who, apparently, decided to down a third of my sowhl before placing it back on the table. With my heart still hammering in my chest, I wasn’t sure whether to mirror Ada’s expression or laugh.
Either way, I’d recognized the antics for the grand entrance that they were.
Ada clearly hadn’t been exaggerating.
Once he dissipated the illusion, I could see Eriyan was thin as a wisp, with messy blond hair and eyes that appeared unable to decide whether they were green or blue. His cheeks had a nice splash of color to them, and his skin, unlike mine, held a warm hue. But it was his wide, blinding smile that truly lit up his face.
And revealed he was more than a little tipsy.
“It’s not even evening yet,” Ada hissed, likely coming to the exact same conclusion.
“Ada, my love,” he drawled and propped one elbow on the high table, “you wouldn’t have come looking for me here, at the very best sowhl stand our lovely Nysa can offer, if it were otherwise, now would you?”
Ada scowled at him, but Eriyan’s attention was already elsewhere, his eyes turning a shade warmer as he took me in.
“Though if I’d known you were bringing company, I would have at least bothered to brush my hair.” He held out his hand. “Eriyan. The bane of Ada’s existence.”
“Ember.” I clasped his hand. “Possible contender for your title.”
The sound that left Ada’s lips was somewhere between a laugh and a snort. Eriyan seemed thrilled.
“A challenger.” He sized me up. “May the largest thorn in Ada’s side win.”
Somberly, we both dipped our chins, then grinned. I snatched my pitcher, drank a little, then passed it over to him before realizing I was adding fuel to the fire.
Maybe our little contest would be decided faster than I thought.
I mouthed “sorry” to Ada as Eriyan gulped down the rest of the sowhl, but she merely rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if my actions didn’t make much of a difference. If Eriyan wanted his drink, he’d get it.
“Are you done?” she asked when he slammed the thick glass down on the iron tabletop.
“I received your flame,” he said, gaze flickering my way briefly before he turned around, though I caught the glee resting on his features morph into something a touch more serious. “I suppose it has to do with your friend…”
“I need that fragment, Eri,” she whispered. Eriyan’s body went perfectly still.
The easiness, the humor… It was gone, erased as if it had never been there at all.
He bowed his head, just the barest of movement, but I could see his concession clearly enough. The hint of disbelief as well.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His composure came together piece by piece, wrapping his carefree demeanor around him like armor. “At least now I know why you were scowling instead of bringing us another round of drinks.”
“Go to the Whispers, Eriyan, and burn the sowhl from your blood. We’ll meet you there.” Ada’s gaze settled on me. “We just have one more stop to make.”
Although I had braced myself for it, curbed some of my hunger on the way from the sowhl stand, it was impossible not to stare at all the illusions. To enjoy their thrumming, as diverse as voices, reverberate through my skin.
Some, I recognized from yesterday, but there were more, so many more to behold.
Dresses of crushed ice, lightning that did not harm, but undulated like ribbons in the wind around the bearer…
I felt as if I lost a part of me every time the connection broke off when Ada had to drag me forward as my steps faltered. And whenever we veered away from the stalls, my gaze drifted relentlessly towards those night-tinted tents at the far end of the city with their white peaks drawing me in like beacons.
“What’s in them?” I asked once we entered an alley fairly devoid of people, but with the view cutting off just at the right angle to capture those illustrious capped tips.
When she shot me a questioning look, I nudged my chin towards the tents. Her gaze followed.
“Those are the Magicians’ domain,” she said, then scanned the street to our left before strolling down its cobblestones with a purpose that didn’t make her look like the thief she had been yesterday. “A few of them keep to the stalls, tricking your body into believing it's colder than it truly is so that you would consume more sowhl or buy a nice coat, maybe even a shawl. But in the tents…
“You can experience the sun—or at least how we think it feels.” She glanced at me, a half-smile resting on her lips. “Probably not all that tempting for someone who’d lived under it her whole life.”
“How—how do they make you feel that?”
Ada stopped beneath an archway connecting the two streets, the darkest place there was under the blue light that still shone above, and quickly scanned our surroundings. I did the same, then turned my attention to her when I couldn’t spot any visible threat.
A trickle of blood was flowing down her index fingers and I—
I felt hot.
My skin seemed to come alive under an invisible force, my whole body warming, growing full with that pleasant laziness that set itself deep in my limbs whenever I lingered out on the grounds, lying with my back on the grass and a book in my hands. And yet I sensed there was something different.
The brush of heat didn’t filter through my pores from the outside.
It came from within.
I looked at Ada, understanding dawning in my mind. “The Magicians don’t merely create illusions. They actually influence the body, don’t they?”
The essence of the sun died down as quickly as it surfaced, and Ada wiped that last drop of blood against her black clothes. She nodded, then motioned me to follow her farther down the road.
“The principle is the same,” she explained. “Much like the eyes believe what they’re seeing, the body believes the sensations. And reacts accordingly.”
Brilliant. Their power was positively brilliant. My admiration must have shown on my face because a smile broke across Ada’s lips. She chuckled lightly.
I thought of the sensation that had filled me only moments earlier, then glanced up at the azure dome.
“What?” Ada inquired softly.
Brow furrowed, I nibbled on my lower lip, but didn’t respond until the threads and possible explanations rushing through my mind gained form. “Magic is how you grow your food, isn’t it?”
For a moment, she looked at me as if I’d said something absurd. But when she nodded, I realized I’d only surprised her.
“The tents are a Winter Solstice exception. The rest of the time”—her voice gained a darker undertone—“the magic they display in there is reserved for crops and greenhouses.”
I recognized the silent warning that this was a sensitive subject for her. Only I couldn’t just let it go, not with so many pieces that didn’t fit—though I sensed why that might be… We walked past more stone buildings, the windowsills devoid of flowers just as Somraque’s landscape was devoid of life.
“There aren’t any gardens…”
“No.” Ada’s jaw clenched. “There aren’t.”
Even if they couldn’t maintain a field of magic indefinitely, a few hours of simulated sunlight should be more than enough to sustain the sturdier plants.
I waited until the group of men lingering before a small tavern was out of earshot, then asked, “Is it because of him?”
Ada’s entire frame went tense. “Yes.”
We carried on in silence, but as we slipped through another alley, more residential than the others, Ada surprised me by saying, “We could do so much if we were free.”
The longing in her voice stirred a hollow ache somewhere deep in my chest.
“The greater the magic, the less we’re allowed to use it,” she went on. “And always only under his control.”
She trained her gaze on the tents that were once again visible in the distance. But when I studied her face, the hard edges I’d thought I’d find there were softer.
“I envy them sometimes, you know,” she whispered before she turned another corner. The bustle from the avenue grew louder to our left. “The Mages, we think ourselves as superior. At least we’re raised with that belief. We have both powers at our disposal, and yes, it’s an advantage, but… We could never create something as perfect as the Illusionists and Magicians do. Their magic is pure, a single blade that can shape reality into the exact vision or sensation they hold in their minds.”
“But I saw you make us invisible, Ada, control those guards…”
If anyone’s magic was to be considered as lesser, it was my people’s.
Affecting time and space sounded intriguing—and before I came here, it was also something I craved to possess. Yet in light of the abilities the Somraquians had, touching objects of power and willing them to perform their little stints seemed… Well, it seemed trivial. Laughable, even.
There was no finesse to it, no imagination. One simply had to slice a sword through the air, think of the location they wanted a shortcut to and, if they were lucky, there it was. A rip in reality, sometimes fit to accommodate a person, at others a crack barely large enough to push a letter through.
Even the rarer objects pertaining to time, like my pendant, or the cufflinks I saw High Master Elaris wear that enabled him to replay an echo of an earlier conversation in case he missed anything, were utterly straightforward.
I scrunched up my nose. No, there was no need to think about my world right now. I would see it soon enough if Ada’s preposterous plan actually worked. If I indeed was the savior and her theory that touching the fragment would spark up these hidden powers proved to be true.
When I realized Ada had said all she would on the subject of their magic, I asked, “Who’s the girl we’re meeting? Zaphine?”
“She…ah… We were together,” Ada rumbled. I was fairly certain the tightness in her lips had little to do with the current cluster of people at the mouth of the alley we were trying to skirt around.
“Didn’t end all that well?”
For a few long seconds, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Then her voice reached me past the music and laughter, nothing more than a quiet, “No.”
“At least your parents didn’t run her out of town,” I said matter-of-factly.
Ada turned to me, mortified. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally, she shook her head and groaned. “No, I did all the pushing away myself. No help needed.”
I wasn’t above prying for more information, but Ada’s attention drifted towards a lovely boutique, its windows filled with gorgeous, intricate gowns. Zaphine’s shop.
There was nothing that could make this any easier, so I simply squeezed her hand, then followed her across the street for a face-to-face with her own demons.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, well, well,” a stunning girl with rich black hair and eyes as green as Ada’s, if a touch brighter, purred once the bell chimed, announcing our arrival. She leaned her elbows on the elegant glass-and-marble counter, the frilly champagne-colored lace of her sleeves spilling down halfway across her fingers. “We don’t deal in hearts here, so if you’re looking for another one to break, I’d suggest going to the sowhl tent a little farther down the road.”
Every inch of the boutique was pleasant to the eye, but the sharp turn in atmosphere made me wish I were anywhere but here. The displayed gowns seemed to press in on us, the air charged with an ominous presence just waiting to combust.
By my side, Ada stiffened.
It was hard to imagine that this was the same girl who yelled at me for giving her the slip. It wasn’t even the girl I’d glimpsed in her mother’s sitting room… She just seemed lost. Devastatingly so.
I smoothed down my unbuttoned coat and walked over to the counter. Zaphine eyed me warily, her expression unchanging even when I extended my hand—a gesture that belonged to men only in my world, but not in this one.
“Ember Norcross.”
“Zaphine Vendela.” Her tone was flat, but she accepted my hand nonetheless, perfectly cordial. Unlike the venom beneath her words. “You don’t seem like Ada’s type.”
Behind me, Ada let out a strangled groan.
“We’re not together,” I offered, relieved by Zaphine’s bluntness. At least we didn’t have to skirt around the subject.
I moved to the side, rested my forearm against the counter, and discreetly nudged my chin for Ada to move.
Mercifully, she did.
Her gait, however, remained cautious. “Inny, we need your skills.”
Something flickered across Zaphine’s face at the moniker, an emotion too quick, too complex for me to catch, but the girl quickly regained her cool demeanor.
“I figured as much. Ada the Mage wouldn’t be caught dead making a social call.”
Ada flinched. “It’s not like that—”
“No?”
With each second the brutal silence dragged on, I felt more and more like a third wheel. The parties back at home had given me a lot of experience when it came to giving bickering couples a wide berth, but in a shop as small as this one, with no corners to melt into, I was out of options. My gaze caught a dainty arch leading into what seemed like a chamber, half concealed by a curtain comprised of glittering beads.
Maybe I wasn’t out of all options.
“You two look as if you need a moment to yourselves.” I tipped my head towards the second room. “Why don’t I pop in there, and you can talk in the meantime? If that’s all right with you, of course.”
Ada glared at me, but Zaphine actually seemed pleased. “If you see anything you like, feel free to try it on,” she said, gesturing to the long lines of garments I could spy even from out here. “The prices are all Winter Solstice specials. And Ember… Thank you.”
The sincere, subtle gentleness I sensed in her voice disappeared the instant I pushed through the beads.
“I haven’t heard from you in a year, Ada. A year. I hadn’t even seen you at any of the old haunts, and then you come in here, bringing a gorgeous girl in a dress that I made for you. Stars, what were you thinking?”
I ran my fingers along the various fabrics of the garments, trying to block out the sound. Silk. Velvet. Chiffon. Wool. All materials I recognized, yet so different from what I was used to. As if Zaphine, through magic or pure skill, had breathed life into them, transformed them from clothing into individual, wearable works of art.
