Page 191 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“There,” Kalyba said. Her breath was icy. “The price is paid.”

Ead drew back as fast as she dared. She forced down a sudden thought of Sabran.

“There are two branches of magic,” Kalyba began. The sunlight picked out threads of gold in her hair and limned each drop of water. “The sisters of the Priory, as you know, are practitioners ofsiden—terrene magic. It comes from the core of the world, and is channeled through the tree. Those who eat of its fruit can wield its magic. Once there were at least three siden trees—the orange, the hawthorn, and the mulberry—but now, to my knowledge, only one remains.

“But siden, dear Eadaz, has a natural opposite. Sidereal magic, orsterren—the power of the stars. This kind of magic is cold and elusive, graceful and slippery. It allows the wielder to cast illusions, control water . . . even to change their shape. It is far harder to master.”

Ead no longer had to feign her look of curiosity.

“When the Long-Haired Star passes, it leaves behind a silver liquid. I named itstar rot,” Kalyba said. “It is in star rot that sterren lives, just as it is in the fruit that siden lives.”

“It must be rare.”

“Unspeakably so. There has not been a meteor shower since the end of the Grief of Ages—and understand, Eadaz, that the showerwasthe end of the Grief of Ages. It was not coincidence that it came when the wyrms fell. The Easterners believe the comet was sent by their dragon god, Kwiriki.” Kalyba smiled. “The shower closed an era when siden was stronger, and forced the wyrms, who are made of it, into their slumber.”

“And then sterren was the stronger,” Ead said.

“For a time,” Kalyba confirmed. “There is a balance between the two branches of magic. They keep one another in check. When one waxes, the other wanes. An Age of Fire will be followed by an Age of Starlight. At present, siden is much stronger, and sterren is a shadow of itself. But when a meteor shower comes . . . then sterren will burn bright again.”

The world had ridiculed alchemists for their fascination with the Tablet of Rumelabar, but for centuries they had been circling the truth.

And truth it was. Ead felt it in the lining of her belly, in the strings of her heart. She would not have believed it from Kalyba alone, but her explanation formed the thread that held the beads together. The Long-Haired Star. The Tablet of Rumelabar. The fall of the wyrms in the Grief of Ages. The strange gifts of the woman who now stood before her.

All of it connected. All of it stemming to one truth: fire from beneath, light from above. A universe built on this duality.

“The Tablet of Rumelabar speaks of this balance,” Ead said, “but also what happens when the balance is unsettled.”

“Too much of one doth inflame the other, and in this is the extinction of the universe,” Kalyba recited. “A dire warning. Now, what—or who—is the extinction of the universe?”

Ead shook her head. She knew the answer well enough, but best to play the fool. It would keep the witch off her guard.

“Oh, Eadaz, you were doing so well. Still,” Kalyba said, “you are young. I must not be too hard a judge.”

She turned away. As she moved, her hand came to her right side. It was as smooth and unmarked as the rest of her, but her gait betrayed the pain in it.

“Are you hurt, Lady?” Ead asked.

Kalyba did not reply.

“Long ago, the cosmic duality was . . . upset,” was all she said. Ead thought she glimpsed something terrible in those eyes. A shadow of hatred. “Sterren grew too strong in the world and, in return, the fire beneath our feet forged an abomination. Amiscreationof siden.”

The extinction of the universe.

“The Nameless One,” Ead said.

“And his followers. They are children of the imbalance. Of chaos.” Kalyba seated herself on a boulder. “Successive Prioresses have long seen the connection between the tree and the wyrms, but denied it to themselves and their daughters. Mages can even create Draconic flame during Ages of Fire, like this one . . . but of course, you are forbidden from using it.”

All sisters knew they had the potential to make wyrmfire, but it was not taught.

“Your illusions come from sterren,” Ead murmured, “so siden burns them away.”

“Siden and sterren can destroy each other in particular circumstances,” Kalyba conceded, “but they alsoattractone another. Both forms of magic are drawn to themselves most of all, but also to their opposites.” Her dark eyes were alight with interest. “Now, my puzzle-solver. If the orange tree is the natural channel of siden, what are the natural channels of sterren?”

Ead thought on it. “The dragons of the East, perhaps.”

From what little she knew about them, they were creatures of water. It was a guess, but Kalyba smiled.

“Very good. They were born of sterren. When the Long-Haired Star comes, they can give dreams and change their shapes and knit illusions.”

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