Page 71 of Magick and Lead
Rohree glanced around. The cottage looked perfectly pleasant to her. Idyllic, even. Could it be that these good country folk were now jealous of the Admites? What was happening?
“We’re lucky the Gray Brothers send their boys around to share the news. Otherwise, we’d be none the wiser about what those royals were doing to our fair country,” Mik sniffed.
Ayal nodded. “Yes. At least the prelate and the nobles are in charge now. And they say Kortoi is even now working out a peace deal with the Admites. I thank the void for that.”
Rohree’s mind swam. She felt she ought to correct these people, but where to begin? They were so tangled up in lies and half-truths… and Clua’s grip on her hand was tight—a warning.
The boys were shoving one another off their stools.
“Stop!” one said to the other.
“You’re a butt!”
“You’re a goat’s ass!”
“Hey!” Mik slammed the table with a fist.
The boys both went sullen and silent—fast enough that Rohree wondered where that black eye on the smaller boy came from.
Rohree brought the spoon halfway to her mouth, then stopped and dropped it back into the bowl. She wasn’t hungry after all.
Ayal stood, straightening her apron. “Now, clear the table, boys. It’s scrying time.”
“But the festival,” the eldest boy whined.
“It’s too late to go now,” Ayal said. “We’re entertaining guests, instead. But don’t fret. The festival will be going on tomorrow as well. It’s scrying time now—then bed.”
Mik smiled at his guests. “Do you scry?”
Clua and Rohree both shook their heads. Sprites did not scry. Rohree had always been warned against the practice growing up. It had disturbed her how much Queen Synaeda relied upon the practice—may her soul fly. Demons of the void did sometimes share visions with those who looked into scrying basins. Visions of the past, the present, the future... And the things they showed were usually real.Usually…But the visions were often deceptive, too. Often enough, they led the scryer who followed them to ruin—or madness.
“There’s another practice the Gray Brothers introduced us to,” Mik said, leading them into a sitting area where a large bowl sat upon a low table. “The gods know the royals never encouraged us to scry. No, they’d keep all knowledge to themselves. But the Gray Brothers have taught us the way. They want to share knowledge, not hoard it like the dragon-folk do.”
“And they hand out coin as well,” Ayal said, bustling into the room. “Taken from the treasury of Charcain after it fell. A refundof taxes, they call it. And about time after all we’ve paid to fund the dragon riders’ cursed war...”
They all settled into chairs around the low table. Even the boys knelt before the basin and stared into the black depths of the water.
Rohree exchanged a dark look with Clua, but they followed along as Mik dragged a couple of chairs over from the table and urged them to sit. They all watched the water. It sat, perfectly flat and still as a mirror, its only feature the blackness it borrowed from the stone basin. Rohree always thought that it took some dark art to summon visions out of the water, so she wasn’t surprised to see nothing there. And yet, the host family leaned in with such hungry anticipation that curiosity rose in her, and she looked again.
The water was blank no longer. Something swam within it, at a depth that should not have been possible given the shallowness of the bowl. Its movement was somehow both graceful and spastic, like the wriggle of a startled fish. But this was no fish. It was a form unlike any Rohree had ever seen. All bony knuckles and bulging eyes. But it was shifting too. Now it had teeth—not sharp teeth, but human ones. Now, what looked like a broken bone jutted out of it. Now, it was formless, just a swirl of black ink. Someone hummed, a low, off-key tune, but whether it was a member of the family or whether the sound came from within the water, Rohree couldn’t tell. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, sending a shiver through Rohree that seemed to shudder her very bones. Then, the swimming form diffused altogether, and from the depths of the water, a scene emerged like a vision rising in a dream.
It was Essa—only it wasn’t. Her hair was cut short, and she wore a strange, glittering dress that revealed almost her entire legs. Raucous, energetic music played in the background, and she danced strangely to it with a handsome man Rohree hadnever seen before. He was comely, but for some reason, Rohree immediately didn’t like him.
Then the scene was shifting again. Moonlight fell across an unnaturally straight road that ran among farm fields. Essa was riding a two-wheeled necromancer vehicle behind Kit (no, Charlie. Clua had said his real name was Charlie…)
Then, the scene shifted again—to a vision from a nightmare. Essa was in some opulent place—a palace or a merchant’s mansion. Kortoi was there, and another man, a terrible man. The upper part of his face had been ripped away, revealing eyes like burning coals.
The scene abruptly changed again, and Essa was in a vast, empty space, like a meadow in which the grass had been replaced with flat stone. Above, necromancer airplanes buzzed through the sky, battling golenae. A trio of ghouls in black Admite suits hemmed Essa in. They were human—or had been—but Rohree somehow knew they were dead and resurrected, with long canine teeth and tongues that lolled out, licking the air, hungry for blood. They came toward Essa, inexorable as death itself.
With a cry, Rohree shut her eyes, and the spell was mercifully broken.
When she opened her eyes again, everyone was looking at her.
The wife, Ayal, came and put an arm around her. “What’s wrong, dear? You alright?”
Rohree shook her head, running a hand over her eyes. “I… No… I mean yes, I’m fine.”
“What did you see?” Mik asked.
