Page 2 of Minor Works of Meda

‘“I could…” I started to say, as Eudoria shook out her hands, freeing them of cramps and aches and stiffness.

Kalcedon’s eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth edged down. Power rumbled off him like a summer storm. His look dared me not to say a word.

But I’d been waiting for a moment like this for years. At thirty-one, I couldn’t afford to waste any more time than I’d already lost. It had taken me a decade to become Eudoria’s assistant. I wasn’t going to wait another decade to move up.

“I could hold the spell,” I offered. “I know how. And my hands won’t slip.”

Kalcedon snorted in disbelief. I braced myself for Eudoria to say no.

“You don’t know the phrasing,” my mistress said.

“I do,” I insisted. “I’ve watched. I’ve traced it.”

She took a deep, scrutinizing breath.

“Fine. Give Kalcedon the book.”

“What?” Kalcedon’s voice was loud and sharp. “She’s an assistant.”

A small, high noise escaped me. Without hesitation, I shoved the journal into his gray hands.

“Now, Meda.” Eudoria beckoned with her hand to indicate I needed to move.

I drew a deep breath and lifted my palms in front of me. I knew the complex spell she wanted me to cast; knew it well. Every day for the past three years of my assistantship I had watched Kalcedon fumble over another variation of it. Every night, in my chambers, I’d written the scrolling script of the sigils in my own private notebook and studied the way the magic moved.

I knew the spell, and I knew I could do better. Declutter it. Make it elegant and swift and efficient.

Prove to Eudoria that I was more than an assistant, no matter how weak the power in my veins.

I closed my eyes, and reached out to pluck at Kalcedon’s heat. Grudgingly a coil of magic stretched between us. My fingers hooked into the air, drawing separate phrasings with left hand and right; here a soft limit, there a field for Eudoria’s delicate directions to take hold. I started with Leferin, just like her spell, and at heart I used the same phrasings, but the end result was half the length and much better.

I’d practiced before, of course, but without feeding it any power; I did not have enough to give. It felt different now, like my hands were heavier, weighted with lead. The air resisted me, fighting every movement. I slowed, making sure to draw the phrasings perfectly. A mistake could mean disaster.

Kalcedon’s heat poured steadily through me, standing every nerve at glorious attention, singing songs of power I’d seldom tasted.

“Girl. What are you doing?” Eudoria snapped.

My eyes opened.

“This one’s better,” I promised. The fingers of my left hand arched and spread, hooked into it at all the pivot-points. With the right I kept casting, putting the final lines in place. The web of shimmering air hung in front of my face. Mine, and beautiful.

I heard the scoff from Kalcedon. I couldn’t spare him any attention; the spell and Eudoria took it all.

“Enough,” Eudoria said shrilly.

The flow of magic halted abruptly. I gasped as my spell started to crumble, and curled my fingers desperately. It drifted apart like ink in water. Pain prickled my skin. With the power gone, cold took hold of me.

“No,” I begged. I turned to look at Kalcedon, but he was staring at the ground instead of at me. He’d wrapped his magic tight as a clenched fist, giving me nothing to pull.

“Get out, Meda,” Eudoria told me quietly.

“Please? It’s more efficient.” My voice sped up, begging her to realize what I’d achieved. “It uses less magic and it will produce a sharper visual. And it cuts out all the parts that were just taking up space. The sixth and eighth of Eldrezar were making it muddy. And since it’s simpler, even Kalcedon won’t have so much trouble trying to hold it in place.”

“You could have killed us all, you fool.”

“No, but–you didn’t even try it–” I was breathing hard. This was wrong. There was a pain in my chest. It was sharp and terrible, like a knife was lodged there. This wasn’t how I had dreamed it. And the magic was gone, that glorious, powerful heat; without it my nerves felt lifeless and dull.

“Get out,” she said again.

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