Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1 (6 page)

Ciardis bit her lip and sighed as she picked up the red book. “I can’t read,” she admitted, “and I need the ability in order to learn about my heritage.”

The other girl rolled her eyes. “Is that
all
?” she asked in the snootiest tone imaginable.

Ciardis snarled. She might have to take insults from Sarah, but
not
from these girls. “Not all of us grew up with silver spoons in our mouths,” she retorted.

“Right,” responded Sephrane. “Look, don’t get your knickers in a bunch. What I meant was that my magical talent is transfers—sometimes called ‘copying.’”

“Copying?” asked Ciardis, sitting down slowly. She was beginning to feel a headache coming on.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I can transfer skills to another person for a limited time. The talent I copy is usually a skill that I transfer from one person to another. It also can be a personal skill that I’ve learned over time – the
hard
way. How long a skill transfer lasts depends on the complexity of the skill. For instance, combat skill transfers only last a few weeks. Something as basic as reading—in
one
language, mind you—will last you for years. Enough time for you to pick it up on your own.”

“Oh my,” said Ciardis shakily, “That’s quite the talent.”

“I know,” said the girl smugly.

“Well, yes, then,” said Ciardis. “If you’re offering, I’d be glad to have your help.”

“Nothing is free,” Sephrane replied. “What can you give me in return?”

Ciardis stared at Sephrane in amazement, thinking that the manners of the people in this city were atrocious.

“Well?” repeated Sephrane. “I don’t have all night.”

Ciardis quickly gathered her thoughts. “What do you want? I have some dresses,” she said, reaching for the packages that’d Serena had acquired in Lineaus.

“Frilly dresses aren’t really my thing.”

“Well, I have nothing else to offer,” snapped Ciardis. “A few coins. Laundry services.”

“Laundry services?” said Sephrane with definite interest.

Ciardis’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the girl. If Sephrane had been a fox, her ears would have cocked forward in curiosity at Ciardis’s mention of the two words. “Yes, I was a laundress back home,” Ciardis replied, grimacing inwardly at the title.

“
Now
you’re talking,” said Sephrane. “How about one year of reading skills transfer in exchange for a year’s laundry service.”

“Six months.”

“Six months of what?” asked Sephrane.

“I can learn all I need to know from you in six months,” replied Ciardis with a lift of her chin and a glint in her eye. “Six months of reading skills in the Common Tongue for six months of laundry service.”

Sephrane shrugged and held out her hand for a shake. Ciardis spit in her palm and swiftly slapped Sephrane’s hand with her own to seal the bargain. She gasped when their hands touched. There was a sharp tingle, almost like a jolt running up her arm.

Sephrane dropped her hand and said, “Now you can read.”

Sephrane walked to the door and opened it, turning around before leaving. “I would stop spitting in people’s hands before you get to the Patron Hunt, if I were you,” she advised. The door shut softly behind her.

Ciardis sighed and dropped back on the bed. “So many rules,” she muttered to herself. She picked up the book and noted that her reading skills had already kicked in: the title was legible now, no longer just so many angular golden sticks. A small smile bloomed on her face. She’d wanted to be able to read since she was a small child and had seen the traveling bands selling books to the wealthy folk in town.

Carefully, she cracked open the red book. On the first page was an inscription:

~
The History of the Family of the Weathervanes~

A Noble Clan with Powers Above All

Wouldn’t that be nice,
Ciardis mused.

She began to read the crisp, blocky text, noting immediately that the history of the clan—
her
clan!—extended all the way back to Emperor Favian IV, often written Favian Stormlord, over three hundred years ago. Indeed, it was Favian who had bestowed the name Weathervane upon the clan of companions who had the extraordinary ability to amplify the magical talents of others.

As she turned the page, a wrinkled piece of manuscript floated out. Frowning, Ciardis picked it up from the bedspread where it had landed beside her.

I stumbled upon a young girl this morning. One of fair skin and bright laugh. She was running in the rain – a light sprinkle really. I was alone, leaving my retinue on the ridge. As she came forward she stumbled falling to my feet. By accident her sandy hand touched my bare feet. And a miracle was born.

~ Recitation from His Imperial Highness, Prince Favian

The account went on in detail. It told of a brilliant summer storm and Prince Favian’s powerful surge of magic after a touch of the girl’s hands. Under the rain, he had increased the strength of the storm from a sprinkle of rain to a storm of incredible power. After that, he had used the girl to stoke his power like a metal weathervane draws lightning in a storm.

He used the nickname of “Weathervane” for the girl, and it became a common way to refer to her, and later, her children who possessed the same skill.

Female weathervanes became known for their abilities to enhance not only the powers of their chosen partners, but their focused output. But the male weathervanes were more erratic – it was hard to tell if they would connect to a partner or be able to enhance at all. Some male weathervanes became powerful enough to enhance the magical output of entire groups of people but only when all the individuals were present, which was a restriction that made them less useful than their female family members.

She frowned as she read about her ancestors exploits in
The History of the Family of the Weathervanes
. They’d been generals, Companions, princes, lesser nobles, and—at this she raised an eyebrow—thieves.
That’s interesting
, she thought as she read up more on Kieran, the Weathervane thief-lord who had put together a synchronized crew of thieves whose exploits had been legendary.

In the middle of the book was a family timeline. Beside each name was a brief physical description: silver hair, blonde hair, black hair; olive skin, pale skin, cinnamon skin, dark skin. But everyone person described had at least one feature in common - golden eyes.

Just like mine.

The last WeatherVane to have been born was a girl, Amelia, thirty-seven years before. She’d had black hair and cinnamon-colored skin, according to the text
. My mother had black hair, too
, Ciardis thought with excitement. It was one of the few things she could remember about her.

As she carefully read the rest of the entry, she read a small paragraph that stated that female mages were always named after their mothers. In fact, all children took the second half of their mother’s name.

In example Erin Stonebreaker, was known as Erin Breaker before her fifteenth birthday. Upon gaining her powers she received the full titular right to claim the whole last name. It is the same for Weathervanes. Each child, male or female, is given the name of Vane on their birth records. They are only allowed to change this name upon manifestation of their powers.

Sitting up Ciardis realized that her mother had done the same for her. She had named her
Ciardis Vane
after her family not after Vaneis. The passage continued.

An example of male child names would be Mard Breaker. He took the last name of his wife Erin Stonebreaker, as all men do – magical or mundane. Prior to their marriage, he was known as Erin Chamis, Chamis being the name of his mother.

After two hours of reading, she closed the book with a tired sigh. Looking out the window, she noted that the dawn would come in just four short hours. She needed sleep. After changing into a nightdress and putting the book carefully on the desk, she curled up in the center of the big bed. With a wry smile, she sank into the mattress, thinking,
I could get used to this.

Grabbing some fresh fruit and fried bread, she stepped toward the opening in the garden hedge. It looked down onto the beach she’d noticed yesterday, and she gasped aloud as she took in the striking sight of the turquoise waves lapping at the sand. After a while, she returned to the table, picking the chair nearest to the ocean.

Soon, a girl with thick braids looped across her head and down her back joined her at the table. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Ciardis softly, “It is.”

“No matter how long I’m here, I know I’ll never tire of this view,” the girl said. “I’m Teachene, sponsored by Vana,” she said, offering her hand.

Ciardis turned to her, surprised, and shook her hand. She recognized the sponsor – the one Sarah had called Vana and Serena had called a harridan.

“Ciardis, sponsored by Serena. Are you from the Summer Isles?”

“Yes,” said Teachene, smiling a shy smile. “You know that my sponsor hates yours, right?”

“I got that impression,” Ciardis said tentatively while munching on a piece of bread. They looked at each other and burst into giggles. They started chatting and barely noticing when others joined them. Their conversation stretched on until the sound of a bell rang throughout the garden.

A woman stood in the head of the table, clearly waiting for their attention. After a few minutes of waiting she announced, “Welcome, young recruits, to the Companions Guild. Your tutorials will begin in five minutes. You can meet your sponsor in the main hall.”

The recruits eagerly got up to go to the main hall. As soon as Ciardis saw Serena, the first thing out of her mouth was, “What’s the difference between a wife and a consort?”

Ciardis clasped her hand over her mouth. She’d been wondering all night, but she hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. Fortunately, Serena seemed amused. “Good question! You’re jumping right in, I see. Walk with me.”

They exited the grand hall to a small path that led down to the beach. Along the way, Serena explained, “A consort is a contractual partner - they hold power and rank equal to their spouse’s. If you are Queen Consort, you are so much more than just a Queen. A spouse, on the other hand, is a husband or wife. They hold only the power personally delegated to them by their partner. A Consort maintains all of the power that their partner does with no restrictions.”

“Oh,” said Ciardis, “That sounds quite…complicated.”

“It is,” Serena replied. “But in situations where a companion is being considered for the rank of consort or even spouse, the Companion’s Guild will advise on the structure of the partnership and contractual agreement to serve.” She waved a dainty hand. “But enough of those matters for now. That is far ahead in your future.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Sarah tells me you’re one of the long-lost Weathervanes! I just knew it!”

Is that why you called me “baseborn” on our way here, then?

“My dear this changes everything!” said Serena, ignoring Ciardis’s silence as she twirled around.

“How so?” inquired Ciardis. “I mean, I know about the—my—family history, but it usually takes a while for a girl’s gifts to manifest, right? None of my female ancestors were able to enhance before their eighteenth birthdays.”

Serena stopped twirling. “You
have
been studying. That’s very good!” she said, turning to face Ciardis, her finger at her lips.

Ciardis resented being spoken to like a toddler, but once again held her tongue.

“Look, this is how it goes,” Serena said in a no-nonsense tone. “Now that we know you
have
a talent—and it’s a exceedingly rare one at that—either you will automatically be accepted as a companion trainee, and we’ll accelerate your tutorials to prepare you for your Coming Out ceremony at the Patrons Hunt, or we’ll gently start informing eligible patrons of your unique gifts.”

At this, Serena clasped her hands together, “The turnout will be
spectacular
Everyone will want to see the new Weathervane – especially the mages.”