Glasswrights' Test Page 21

  Father Siritalanu took one lingering look at his charge, and he seemed about to cast another argument. He caught himself instead and waved his hand in a religious symbol. “May First God Ait watch over you, and may Jair himself guide all your steps.”

  “Amen,” Princess Berylina whispered, the word slipping over her blue-tinged lips.

  Rani waited until Father Siritalanu had stepped into the corridor before she knelt beside the princess. “Please, my lady. I will guide you in this thing, to the best that I am able. But first, you must take my gown. You must be warm and comfortable to do your work. Your mind must be free of your body’s needs, if you are to make the journey of Speaking.”

  This time, Berylina acceded. She gathered herself slowly from her stone bench, moving as if she were awakening from a very deep sleep. She struggled with her clinging garments, and her teeth began to chatter as she peeled away the heavy layers. First, her cloak, then her gown, then her clinging undergarments, shed from her body with all the naive certainty of a child.

  Rani looked away, embarrassed by the naked body in front of her. Berylina was a princess after all. How could Rani look upon her this way? Pulling at the laces of her own garment, Rani rapidly cast down her cloak. She lifted her dress over her head and passed it to the princess, taking care not to touch the chilled royal fingers, not to focus on the girl’s blue-tinged limbs.

  In fact, Rani only looked at Berylina after the princess had pulled her wiry hair free of the garment’s neck, after she had smoothed the lines of the gown down her body. The fabric was snug across the princess’s curves, but Rani thought that the tight cloth might warm Berylina faster, might speed away some of her deadly pallor.

  “Very well,” Berylina said, and her teeth had stopped clattering. “I have acceded to your demands. Now you must yield to mine.”

  Rani inclined her head in silent acceptance of their bargain. Berylina must focus on something, some instrument to bring her deeper into the Speaking. Rani glanced about the cell, but she found nothing for the duty, nothing that would work except for the glittering Thousand Pointed Star that was puddled in her cloak. She retrieved the worked gold and balanced it in her palm.

  “Very well, my lady,” she said, as she contemplated what she was about to do. What would Tovin say? How would he criticize Rani when he found that she had appropriated the players’ tool? “You must make yourself as comfortable as possible. Put my cloak around your shoulders. No. No protest. I’ll take it back when I leave, to cover my shift, but you must be freed from thinking of your body now.”

  Much to Rani’s surprise, Berylina complied. The princess settled the wool about her shoulders, and then Rani opened the fist that she had made around her Thousand-Pointed Star. She tilted it toward the weak sliver of sun from the room’s window, turning it to reflect more of that light. “Look upon the Star, my lady.”

  Rani tried to remember how Tovin had first introduced her to Speaking, how he had initially brought her to the altered state where she could see her past, where she could excavate all the energy and passion and knowledge that she’d ever gained. “Look into the light, my lady, and let it become a part of you. Let it be your guide and your path. Let it be your eyes and your sight. Let it take you into your heart and through your mind. Let it guide you into your thoughts, farther and farther, so that you are beyond this room, beyond Brianta.”

  Berylina had focused on the Star as soon as Rani extended the symbol. Her breathing deepened with every phrase that Rani uttered. The princess’s lips stopped their trembling, and her face smoothed, cleared of worry. Rani felt a surge of power build beneath her own breastbone. She was guiding this Speaking!

  “Berylina, I’m going to ask you to count for me. After each number that you say, take a deep breath. As you breathe out, you will travel deeper into the Star, deeper into your thoughts, deeper into the Speaking. Each breath will bring you greater peace. Each number will bring you closer to your self, to your thoughts, to your true inner being. If you’d like, you may close your eyes as you count. Now, say the first number with me. One.”

  “One.” Berylina whispered the word, and then she filled her lungs, breathing deeply, as if she were preparing for some sublime pronouncement. She held the air for a long moment, and then she exhaled. Rani could feel the breath driving the princess deeper, closer to her core, closer to the depth of Speaking. “Two.” Berylina repeated the process, and when she exhaled for the second time, she closed her eyes. “Three.” Rani felt her surge deeper, farther, more distant.

  Rani waited for Berylina to voice the next number, but the princess remained silent. She continued to fill her lungs, breathing in so deeply that Rani wondered if the seams of her stressed gown might split. But then, the princess exhaled, pulling herself to an ever more distant place.

  “Very well,” Rani said, after the princess had taken another half dozen breaths. “You can feel the power of the Star. You can count all the Thousand Points. You can wind between them, finding your way, guiding yourself, moving, moving, moving. Follow the Star back to one specific day, Berylina. Find your most important memory, in your heart, in your mind. Follow the Star to that day.”

  Rani waited while Berylina thought. Emotions flitted across the princess’s face—fear and hurt and anger. “Be easy, Berylina,” Rani said. “You can choose the memory. You can choose a place that is safe. A place where you learned, where you grew. None of your memories can hurt you. Not here. Not now.”

  Berylina’s breathing smoothed, and her face became placid. The deep breathing—or perhaps Rani’s warm shift and cloak—had brought a touch of color back into her cheeks, a hint of rose beneath the alabaster. “When you are ready, Berylina, I want you to tell me where you are. Tell me what you see.”

  The princess was silent for a long minute, as if summoning words was a task worthy of a warrior. “Liantine,” she whispered at last.

  “You are in Liantine?” Rani was not surprised. The princess had lived thirteen of her sixteen years in Liantine. “Tell me where, Berylina. Tell me what you see.”

  “I’m in my nursery. The old nursery. Before they took down the spidersilk hangings. Before they brought in the Horned Hind.” Rani heard the wonder in the princess’s voice, the child’s softer forming of the words.

  “How old are you, Berylina?”

  “Nine. Today is my birthday. We had almond cake, and my father gave me a kitten.” The whisper of a smile crept onto the princess’s lips. “I had other gifts as well. A gilded mirror, and a gown the color of the sky. And no one laughed at me today. No one at all.”

  The princess’s lips trembled, and her forehead creased into a frown. “No one will laugh at you now,” Rani assured her.

  “But my eyes are not right. And my teeth stick out.”

  “No one will laugh at you,” Rani repeated. “Not now. Your Speaking is in your memory, my lady. You have power over it. You can end it whenever you desire.” The words soothed the woman-child, and Rani waited for her to draw a few more deep breaths. “Tell me more about the day, my lady. Why have you chosen to Speak this story?”

  “I’ve come from the dining hall. I still have crumbs on my hands.” Berylina’s fingers were curled into fists, managing to echo the chubby knots that she must have known in her childhood. “My nurse greets me, and she takes the kitten. She says the kitten must go to sleep, and so must I.”

  Berylina raised her hands, as if she were offering up a small, furry comfort. Rani feared that the animal would meet some dire fate, some disaster that would make this day important in Berylina’s memories. But no, the kitten seemed to be carried away without trauma.

  “Nurse says that I should pray with her, before I take my nap. She’s a new one, this nurse, new to me, because my brothers have teased all the other nurses into leaving. She’s young. She comes from Amanthia, from far away.”

  Amanthia. Rani’s mind flashed to her own memories of that land, to its wild forests and ragged coastline. To the Little Army. To Crestman.
But Berylina had never traveled to Amanthia. She did not hold those visions.

  “Nurse makes me kneel beside her on the prie-dieu. The bench is still too high for me. I can’t rest my head on the cross bar. I bow my head, though, trying to be like Nurse.” Berylina suited action to words. In the washed-out light of the cell, she looked as if she were a child, as if her arched neck were a humble, vulnerable offering.

  “Nurse prays to her gods, to the Thousand, who make their home in Amanthia. She prays in the name of Pit and Dol and Roat. She asks Nome to watch over me.”

  Berylina bowed her head even further, and her lips began to move in a silent incantation. Rani waited for a moment, expecting the story to continue. When the princess remained silent, Rani prompted, “What are the words of her prayer, Berylina?”

  “Hail Nome, god of children, guide of Jair the Pilgrim. Look upon this pilgrim with mercy in your heart and justice in your soul. Guide the feet of this pilgrim on righteous paths of glory that all may be done to honor you and yours among the Thousand Gods. This pilgrim asks for the grace of your blessing, Nome, god of children.”

  The words cut through Rani, icing across her heart. Those were the words her mother had said every morning and every evening. The prayer was traditionally spoken over the dead, but Rani’s mother had made it one of protection for the living, for her children. Those words had guided Rani every day of her childhood, before she knew that she was destined for the glasswrights’ guild, before she knew that she would betray her family and her friends. Before her life changed forever.

  “Nurse tells me that I must pray as well,” Berylina said, and Rani was forced to remember where she was now, who she was, that she was responsible for guiding this Speaking.

  She took a breath that was shakier than it should have been, and she asked, “What words do you pray?”

  “I pray for Nome to bless me. I pray, ‘May Nome look upon me with his grace and goodness. May Nome protect me. May Nome guide me.’” Berylina’s words were still softened with the speech of childhood, but her tone was brilliant, fierce. As Rani watched, a light bloomed within the princess’s face, a burning power that expanded like a candle catching in the night.

  “What?” Rani whispered. “What do you see?”

  “Not see!” Berylina said. “Not see!”

  “What is it? What happens, Berylina?”

  “Nome comes to me!”

  “What does he say?”

  “Nome does not use words! Nome brings the sound of music! He pipes, like the players at my birthday feast! He speaks in music!” Joy spread over Berylina’s face, and she turned her head as if she were listening to the most beautiful notes in the world.

  Rani watched the transformation, watched the princess’s rabbit teeth disappear, watched her strange otherness melt away. When Nome played for her, she was a different girl, a blessed girl, a child who was perfect in the hearts of the gods, in every way that mattered. She was safe. Loved. Free.

  Rani wanted to let the princess stay inside the memory, wanted her to live within the beauty of the past. She could not, though. The guard would check on them shortly, bribe or no bribe. Rani must bring the princess back to normal wakefulness.

  “My lady, it’s time for you to come back to me, back to Brianta.” Rani saw Berylina’s brow start to wrinkle, saw a protest start to blossom in her throat. “I’m going to count from ten to one. When I say the number ‘one’, you will awaken, refreshed and unafraid. You will remember everything we’ve spoken about, everything you’ve told me. You will not worry, though. You will not fear. You will be warm and safe and secure.”

  Rani glanced about her at the walls of the prison, wondering how she could even offer up such a suggestion with seriousness. No sane woman would feel secure inside this cell. Nevertheless, Rani pushed confidence into her voice and counted. “Ten. Nine. Eight.” She watched Berylina’s face change, watched her move from her memories toward the present. “Seven. Six.” The princess’s jaw seemed to jut more; her teeth protruded above her lower lip. “Five. Four.” Berylina turned her head to the right, her habitual stance for viewing people standing close to her. “Three. Two. One!”

  Berylina gasped as if she were surfacing from under water. Her eyes burst open, and she heaved forward. Her breath was strangled, frantic, a wheezing clatter that echoed in the cell, louder than any of the words she had spoken.

  Suddenly, Father Siritalanu was standing in the door, his face whey-pale beneath his tonsure. “What have you done to her? What did you do to the princess?” Berylina’s eyes were rolled up into her head, and Rani caught her as she slumped to the ground, limp as a bolt of raw silk. “What did you do to my mistress?”

  “Hush!” Rani said, looking meaningfully toward the door. “The guard will hear you!”

  Father Siritalanu started to bark out something, but then he swallowed the words, as if they were too angry even for a prison cell, in this land of Jair’s birth. Instead, he settled for crossing to Berylina. He lifted her right hand between both of his and he chafed it, raising it up to his heart as if he would transfuse his life force merely by the power of his prayer. “My lady,” he whispered, urgency sharpening the words. “My lady, come back to us! We need you here, my lady.”

  Berylina’s eyes flew open. The cast one floated wildly, as if she could not focus, but the direct one pinned itself on Rani. “Please!” Berylina croaked, the one word sounding like the flood of water from the mouth of a near-drowned man. She reached forward with both her hands, thrusting Father Siritalanu away.

  Rani felt the princess’s fingers close about her own, felt Berylina clutch at her with more strength than she had ever imagined the girl might have. Just as Rani was about to cry out, she felt a surge of energy—hot cold black white sharp sharp sharp.

  Rani’s hand throbbed with the pulse, and then her arm, her neck, her entire head. She had felt a force like that once before, years back, in Morenia, when Hal had tested her before the old king. Then, she had been forced to place her hand upon the Inquisitor’s Orb; she had been required to hold it there as it burned hot with the power of all her thoughts, all her beliefs, all her dreams and expectations. Now, Rani opened her mouth to cry out, but she could make no sound, form no words.

  Inside the void, she heard Berylina’s whisper, heard the words that the princess had shared only a moment ago. “Nome does not use words! Nome brings the sound of music! He pipes, like the players at my birthday! He speaks in music!”

  And Rani’s head was filled with music—the most perfect jig ever piped, the most perfect reel ever played. Her heart raced with the music, pulsed with the notes. She heard the music in her core; she felt it in her being. She became the music. She became Nome.

  And then, when her heart could beat on its own again, she sensed the other gods standing in the shadows, ones that she knew were especially sacred to Berylina. There was Mip, and Nim. Ile and Zil. And there, in a corner of Rani’s mind, tucked away where she would rather ignore him forever, was Tarn, the god of death. He was wrapped in green-black swirls, iridescent as a beetle’s back.

  So, this was how Berylina saw the world. This was how her mind worked, behind her cast eyes. This was what she worshiped when she journeyed on her pilgrimage, when she declared her faith beyond the world of common men.

  For just an instant, Rani was catapulted back to her youth in Moren. When she had been only thirteen years old, she had stood on the steps of the House of the Gods, been greeted by the old Holy Father himself. The ancient man had named her the First Pilgrim of the year; he had elevated her to a symbolic station, thrust her into the life she now led.

  Then, Rani had thought that she should hear the gods, feel them move about her daily life. She had been ashamed that she felt nothing. She had known that she was masquerading, staking claim to a holiness that was not hers by any right.

  This was different, though. This was real. This was true.

  Rani wondered how Berylina had come to convey this beauty. She wonde
red what power the princess had used, what magic she had worked, what reverse Speaking she had fashioned. Perhaps Berylina truly was a witch.

  Even as the fearful thought crossed Rani’s mind, she discarded it. Berylina had worked no evil here. She had not used her powers to harm any other. Instead, she had reached out to share beauty and power and light. She had reached out to share her knowledge of all the Thousand Gods.

  “My lady,” Rani said, bowing her head.

  “This is how I know the gods, Ranita Glasswright. This is how I know them in my heart of hearts.”

  “I understand, my lady.”

  “Some say that I am evil for this knowledge.”

  “They speak in ignorance, then.”

  “They’ll fight me, Ranita Glasswright. They’ll fight to have me buried as a witch, because they do not understand. They’ll smother me with earth.”

  “I’ll keep you from that.” Rani raised her head to the single narrow window, blinking her eyes in the light that suddenly seemed too bright. “I promise that I will do all in my power to keep you from that.” A thousand visions and smells, tastes and sounds and touches rose up in joyous cacophony, affirming Rani’s vow. “I’ll protect you, Berylina Thunderspear, or die in the trying.”

  Chapter 10

  Rani blinked as she stepped outside the prison. How could the sun still hang in the sky, the dust still billow in the courtyard? How could pilgrims still walk back and forth, tugging their robes into place, fingering their Thousand Pointed Stars? How could everything be the same?

  She glanced at Father Siritalanu, but the priest refused to meet her eyes. The man had called upon his personal gods in Berylina’s chambers, demanding that the princess explain what had happened, what forces she had summoned. Berylina had only smiled wanly, pulling Rani’s gown closer about her still-pale body. Then the princess had dismissed both of them, claiming that she needed to meditate on what had happened, study the message from the gods and the lessons she had learned from Speaking. No amount of protest from the priest would change her mind.