Page 6

CHAPTER SIX

While the records master brings out the correct scroll and Master Cranch asks the prophetic scholars to come forward to help find the more relevant parts, I wander over to the refreshments table. It’s been ignored by everyone else so far, which means I get first pick.

The options are good. They always are for council meetings—much better than what we get in the cafeteria. I pile my plate high with delicate little sandwiches, exotic stuffed peppers, tiny savory tarts, and some kind of puffy pastry thing that smells like cheese, and then turn my attention to the sweets. I’m going to need another plate.

“If Mage Silverbright is quite done thinking of his stomach instead of this serious situation, perhaps we can move on,” a voice snaps. Dessert might have to wait. I glance over my shoulder to see all eyes on me and Master Meele glaring with squinty eyes. He seems to have recovered from his fit of the vapors.

“Master Kahwyn said I had to eat,” I say as meekly as I can manage, making my way back to my seat. I’ll get through this plate and think about more later.

“He had a headache earlier, and I sent him for a healing,” Master adds in support.

One of the healers gasps. “You bothered Master Kahwyn for a headache ?”

Uh… sure. Even if I hadn’t been avoiding the guy, I would definitely have chosen to leave the Academy of Mages and cross the chasm to the Academy of Healers to demand that the best healer in the world take care of my headache.

I push aside the thought that it really wouldn’t be unlike me to do so, and prepare to defend myself against affronted healers.

But I don’t have to. One of the others is speaking. “He was at the mages’ infirmary this afternoon. There was some problem with the schedule, and he offered to fill in for an hour until someone else could be found.”

I nod and cram a sandwich in my mouth. The first healer looks slightly mollified.

“Well. I suppose that’s acceptable. He’s always been very generous with his time when it comes to the mages.”

Oh, gag. I cram in another sandwich, then regret it when the healer looks at me and says, “I hope you know how lucky you are, young mage. Not everyone can be healed by someone so Talented.”

I nod again and chew frantically, swallowing a too-big lump that hurts my throat. “I made sure to tell Master Kahwyn exactly how grateful I was,” I croak. Master glances sharply at me. He knows me too well to take that at face value, but I muster an innocent smile.

“Let’s move on,” Master Cranch interjects, and as the attention turns away from me, I sag in relief and rub my throat.

“Serves you right,” Master says. “I better not find out you disrespected Master Kahwyn.”

“I thanked him sincerely,” I reply honestly. And suggested he could give me a blow job, but Master definitely doesn’t need to hear that.

“Read that part of the prophecy,” one of the dragon riders suggests, and I pick up the cheese thing, prepared to listen carefully. My memory needs a lot of refreshing.

The records master clears his throat, and alarmed glances are exchanged by the prophetic scholars. “Perhaps I could read it?” Master Leng offers. “It’s my area of expertise, after all.”

That’s a relief. I’d like to actually hear what’s being read… not to mention get to the end without the records master dying from the exertion.

Oooh, this cheese thing is good. I need to stuff some in my pockets before I go. Now I’m sad I didn’t wear a robe—the pockets are so much bigger.

Master Leng begins to read from the scroll in his measured, sonorous voice. “The Stone of All Creation shall appear only in times of great need and crisis, when the danger facing the world is beyond that of which its peoples are capable.”

I pause mid-chew. Was the population of the entire world just insulted? Who wrote this prophecy, anyway? I should probably know that.

“The danger will not be petty war, nor famine, nor pestilence. The vagaries of climes and movements of the earth and seas do not concern the Stone.”

I really should have paid attention all those years ago. Not war, famine, disease, weather, or other natural disasters? What the fuck is left? From the muted murmurs around the room, I’m not the only one getting concerned.

“Only the danger beyond death shall bring forth the Stone to render its knowledge and champion…” Master Leng trails off with a grimace. “I feel the need to explain here that this next part is one of great contention to scholars. There are many who believe it was a transcription error and should be stricken from all future copies made.”

“Read it as it appears and then explain,” Master Cranch instructs.

“‘Only the danger beyond death shall bring forth the Stone to render its knowledge and champion to the people.’ Many of us believe the ‘to’ is an error, and the sentence should, in fact, be ‘render its knowledge and champion the people.’ Because of course the stone itself will be our champion.”

“Bollocks,” Master Gao, another prophetic scholar, pronounces. He’s got a bushy mustache and always reminds me of the walruses that used to breed near my childhood home. It’s quite comforting. “The prophecy was dictated by the stone. The notion that it would allow any kind of mistake is the next thing to heretical. It’s as clear as can be that the stone means to choose a champion, not be the champion.” The words have the rhythm of an old argument, as do the put-upon sigh and eye roll from Master Leng.

“Oh, please. I’ve just read that the danger is ‘beyond that of which its peoples are capable,’ and you think a single person would suddenly prove equal to the task? Be serious.”

Master Gao plants his fists on his hips and puffs out his chest. I lean forward. Could this devolve into a physical altercation? I wish there was someone here I could lay bets with. “The ‘person’ would in fact be ‘rendered’ by the stone—the champion of the source of all creation . Not just some random bystander!”

I hold back a shudder. If he’s right, that poor sucker’s gotta be the unluckiest person in the world right now… except for when they have to actually face whatever this danger is. That’s gonna be the worst fucking day of their life.

Probably all of our lives too.

Ugh. All those people who yammer about wanting to live in exciting times need to be kicked in the head.

“Gentlemen,” my master intervenes just as Master Leng is squaring up to Master Gao. He always did have the worst timing. “If I may… this is your chance to find out once and for all.”

They stare at him, and he gestures to the stone.

Jaws drop.

“You ask,” Master Gao says, all his usual bluster gone.

“Oh, I-I couldn’t.” Master Leng is trembling. “The answer… it would change centuries of study.”

Holy gods’ turds, are they serious? They’re not going to ask because they don’t want to give up a centuries-old argument?

Before anyone else can speak, I call, “Hey, stone, is the prophecy transcribed correctly?”

There’s a round of gasps at my audacity, and Master sends me a warning look, but over it all comes the stone’s clear answer.

~Yes~

I quirk a brow at my master. Does he want me to ask the obvious follow-up question?

He sighs. “You will choose a champion to act on your behalf against this danger?”

~Yes/No~

“Ugh, not again,” I mutter. Beside me, Master Cranch slowly turns his head in my direction, and I slump down in my seat, avoiding his gaze. Best not to antagonize the chair of the Council of Mages.

Not more than usual, anyway.

The room is filled with yammering again as everyone argues over what that could mean. It’s like they don’t even know that the only way they’ll get any answers is by asking the stone .

As if it can hear me, the stone blasts its displeasure again, and the assembled councilors fall silent.

Master waits a beat, then asks, “You will not choose a champion?”

~No~

He lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and I know he’s getting frustrated. He usually does that right before blasting something.

“Master Samoine, if I may?” One of the dragon riders comes forward, and I recognize her. She was one of Tia’s teachers years ago, one of the few who would tolerate me hanging around the dragon riders’ mess. The others tended to kick me out whenever they could. What was her name?

Jania? Janesy? Jillian?

“Of course, Rider Kanesha.”

Wow, I was way off.

She clears her throat and faces the stone. “Have you already chosen your champion?”

~Yes~

A buzz of excitement goes through the room.

“Can you name them for us?”

~No~

Damn. So close.

She casts a desperate look around at the assembled councilors. “Is it… one of us?”

~No~

The collective sigh of relief would be funny in other circumstances.

Master speaks again. “Will you guide us to finding them?”

~Yes/No~

The relief turns to a rumble of frustration. I gobble down a tiny tart while they debate the next question.

“Will you guide someone to finding them?”

~Yes~

“Is that someone a councilor?”

~No~

“Someone in this city?” Master Leng’s question smacks of desperation.

~Yes~

I pick up my last tart as, beside me, Master Cranch stands. “Is that person Talon Silverbright?”

I drop the tart. It bounces off my empty plate and spatters on the floor.

~Yes~

Tia yanks urgently at my mind, but I block her completely. She’ll make me pay for it later, but right now, my focus has to be on the utterly asinine bullshit happening in this room.

As the councilors erupt into chaos, I get to my feet, take three quick steps onto the dais, and ask the stone, “Are you out of your fucking shale?”

Unfortunately for me, the question comes a beat after the stone sends out another wave of displeasure, and my voice carries clearly through the resulting silence. Shocked and appalled eyes turn to me.

“Mage Silverbright, you are speaking to the source of all creation,” Master snaps. His private warning is much sharper. “Embarrass me here, and you will regret it.”

I take a deep breath, fighting the instinctive urge to swear, and scramble for an appropriate response. “I only meant that perhaps the stone has confused my name with someone else’s. I’m a level-2 mage. This is a serious undertaking, surely better served by an esteemed master.” I try not to choke on the words.

Master Cranch coughs and comes to stand beside me. “To be clear, you believe the stone of life has mixed up your name with that of another person.”

It sounds even less believable when he says it. “Yes,” I lie.

“Whose?” His mouth is twitching in a way that suggests he’s enjoying this. Maybe he does know it was me with the chocolates.

“Whose?” I stall.

“Yes. Whose name could sound like yours, Talon Silverbright?”

For the first time, I curse my name. Why couldn’t I be called Pat Miller? “Uh… Malon Wilversight?”

The amusement that comes from the stone puts paid to that attempt, though someone asks, “Who’s Malon Wilversight?”

“Fictional.” I recognize that voice. It’s Master Eldridge, the Dean of Students. He sounds thoroughly entertained, and I come to the sour realization that I’m not likely to find a lot of support in this room. I’ve pissed off too many of them.

“Well, let’s ask again, to be perfectly clear,” Master Cranch declares. “Mage Talon Silverbright, who is standing beside me at this moment, is the person you will guide to your chosen champion?”

~Yes~

“That seems clear enough.” Master Cranch is decidedly chipper, but I can only stare at the ugly gray rock in the box, my thoughts whirling. What in the actual fucking gods is going on here? Has the stone been damaged in some way? I’m the last person who should be a tool of prophecy.

A sensation of confidence seeps through me, and I freeze. The councilors are still quietly conferring amongst themselves, Master Cranch with his head bent toward my master. None of them seem to have felt that.

But…

Can you read my thoughts? I don’t use any of my telepathic ability, none of my magic at all. It’s a thought, a private one. Nobody should hear it.

~Yes~

Another glance around. Nobody noticed. The stone is speaking only to me.

Oh, goody.

Seriously, did Wat accidentally chip part of your brain or whatever? I ask it. Because this is a bad idea.

Amusement, and again, that sense of confidence. Yay. The rock believes in me.

I try again. This is a mistake. Tell them you’ve changed your mind. There are people who suit this task far better than me. And anyway, I have a life and duties here. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep first years alive?

A sense of curiosity is all I get in response. Is it asking me to tell it how hard dealing with first years is?

“Talon?” Master’s voice calls for my attention, and I look away from the stone—which is currently radiating smugness.

“Yes, Master?”

“Are you all right? You seem greatly preoccupied.”

It’s only then that I notice the silence that permeates the room and all the eyes on me. Fuck.

“This is a monumental task,” I say honestly. “I’m not certain where to begin.” To my master, I add, “The stone can communicate with me directly. No need for me to speak.”

He shows no outward reaction, but his mental touch is surprised and… afraid? “We’ll speak of it later.”

“We feel much the same, Mage Silverbright,” Master Cranch admits. “Perhaps we should turn again to the prophecy for guidance.”

~Yes~

The stone’s response surprises us all, since that hadn’t been a question. I guess it likes to take part in conversation too.

The prophetic scholars, though still shaken, take up the reins once more. “I-I suppose the next question we need to address as a group is specifically the danger that’s coming,” Master Gao ventures. All his usual bluster is gone, even though he was proved right in his theory. “That way we can determine how best to give aid to the champion.” He pales and looks at the stone. “Not that your champion would need aid,” he adds quickly. “But… but…”

“But we’ll need to tell the rulers of the continent something,” Master Samoine interjects smoothly. “And while the champion performs their vital task, we need to know if there is still likely to be some danger to innocents. So…” He turns to the scholars. “What are the theories?”

“Danger beyond death,” Master Leng mutters. “I don’t even know what I believe anymore.”

That’s helpful. Just the kind of support I’m going to need when I’m going fuck knows where to find fuck knows who to get them to do fuck knows what to stop fuck knows what evil. Yippee.

The stone pulses a warning in my mind. Only not a warning exactly… a minor chastisement. Is it telling me to be patient with them?

They’re not toddlers. These are supposed to be the wisest leaders we have .

It doesn’t reply.

Master Gao seems to have pulled himself together a little more, and he’s explaining the theories of “danger beyond death.”

“…obviously the key word is death. That is the catalyst for whatever creates this danger. We know it’s not anything living. The debate is in the meaning of ‘beyond.’”

I take a deep breath and try to be patient.

“Some believe that this refers to spirits—ghosts, poltergeists, and the like. Beings without corporeal form.”

“Wait,” the healer who scolded me before interrupts. “You’re suggesting that the spirits of our own dead will come back to harm us? Our loved ones?”

Master Gao harrumphs. “There’s also some debate on what the danger will be. Will the spirits cause direct harm, or will their mere presence drive the living to insanity? Or perhaps those living will be overcome with the desire to rejoin their loved ones and take their own lives.”

Those are both very unpleasant theories. I’m not sure how believable they are, either. The person I loved most growing up—aside from Tia—was our nanny, Heather. She died just a few years before we came to the academy, and I know that if she came back as a ghost and I tried to kill myself to be with her again, she’d get out her willow switch and turn my backside red as a fucking cherry.

Around the room, nobody seems terribly excited about that theory.

“What other meaning has been given to ‘beyond’?” one of the riders asks.

Master Gao looks a little sick. “The corporeal dead, resurrected. The bodies of those who have died, brought back without their souls. Zombies.”

There’s a gentle nudge in my brain, so gentle that it takes me a moment to comprehend it. My mouth fills with bile. “Master,” I send, “Ask the stone if the prophecy means zombies.”

This time, he can’t prevent himself from reacting. His eyes cut to me, and whatever he sees on my face has him paling. I hope he understands that I need him to do this because I can’t. I can’t ask this question. I can’t seal this fate.

His throat works, and his lips part, but it’s still a few moments before the words come out. “Source of Creation,” he begins formally, “is the danger beyond death the thing that we know as zombies?”

The chamber stills as we hold a collective breath.

~Yes~

Someone moans, the sound a mournful, despair-filled echo of our feelings. Master Cranch raises a shaking hand toward the stone, then drops it. “Someone is raising zombies?” he croaks.

~Yes~

“Just one someone?” I ask sharply, the question bursting from me. “Can we stop them before this becomes a greater issue?” Because one class I did pay attention to was the one on the zombie wars. They happened a long time ago, so long that most history books don’t reference them anymore, and the common people believe zombies to be a mere nightmare tale. After all, the easiest way to prevent someone from doing something is to make them think it’s not possible.

But at the academies, we’re taught a deeper history. Partly so no healer or mage will ever be tempted to play with the veil of death, and partly because if some fool does, we—and the dragon riders—will be the first and only line of defense. The unTalented have little recourse against a zombie. The only saving grace is that a necromancer can raise only one zombie at a time, and it takes a certain amount of kinetic energy—more than any other spell. To raise them in army-level numbers would take years, and people tend to notice something like that. Unfortunately, that’s why necromancers like to work in groups—and recruitment is often too easy. The promise of riches, revenge, power… the return of a dead love or child. After the stories I’ve heard, nothing could convince me to seek out the spells to raise the dead, but clearly, not everyone feels the same way.

Which is why I wait with bated breath for the stone’s response.