Spellslinger (Spellslinger #1)(29)
He took a seat next to me on the bench. ‘Do not underestimate breath, Kellen.’ He slid the right sleeve of his robe up to reveal the silver tattooed sigils representing breath shimmering brilliantly under the withered canvas of his wrinkled forearm. ‘Breath is the power of movement, Kellen, of channelling. It can give voice to other forms of magic. Perhaps on its own it’s not quite so impressive as ember or iron, but combined with other magics, breath can be … remarkable.’
At this point I’d settle for mediocre.
‘Go on,’ Master Osia’phest said. ‘Show me the first evocational form for breath. Unless of course you’ve forgotten the fundamentals?’
‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ I said. I could recite by heart the intonations and cantillations for all the breath spells. I’d mastered the somatic shapes, the envisionings, the anchorings. All of it. Just like I had for sand and ember and iron and all the others. There wasn’t a single initiate in my clan who knew the forms as well as I did, not even Shalla. It just didn’t make any difference.
‘The first evocational form,’ Osia’phest prodded me.
I forced myself into a moment of calm, softened my gaze and envisioned the movement of air. That’s always the hard part with breath spells: holding something that can’t be seen in your thoughts. I reached out with my hands, extending my index and middle fingers to form the somatic shape of direction, pressing the tips of my ring and little fingers into my palms, the sign of restraint and control. My thumbs pointed straight up, the sign of Please, ancestors, let me cast this one stupid spell.
I set my will upon the air and spoke the single-word incantation. ‘Carath.’
A tiny sliver of wind passed through the space between my hands, following the line of my index and middle fingers. It was barely enough to trace a thin line in the sand at my feet no more than six inches long.
‘Well …’ Osia’phest said. ‘It’s not … so bad. Your abilities are not as promising as they used to be, but they are not entirely gone either.’
To understand just how pathetic that statement was, you’d only have to remember that this close to a Jan’Tep oasis you could take a deaf, dumb and blind Daroman sheep herder, show him the spell and he’d probably summon up a more vigorous gust of wind than I just had.
Osia’phest patted me on the leg before rising from the bench. ‘As it turns out, you aren’t the only student feeling unwell today.’
It was only then that I noticed Tennat some forty yards away across the oasis, sitting on a bench just as I was, hunched over and looking, from this distance, utterly miserable. He had none of the cuts and bruises he deserved though, no doubt because his father had healed them. Ra’meth, in what can only be an injustice on a cosmic scale, was an even better healer than my mother.
‘Initiate Tennat found himself unable to perform the preparation spells this morning,’ Osia’phest went on. ‘In fact, his situation appears to be worse than yours. I had him attempt the same spell I requested of you, and he couldn’t summon any of the breath magic whatsoever.’
Well, maybe there’s some justice in the world after all.
‘Four other initiates are similarly afflicted. The sudden onset of this condition among so many is … improbable.’
A thought came to me, and a sudden hope came on its heels. ‘What if we’re all suffering some kind of temporary illness? Maybe I’m not—’
‘Your magic has faded gradually, over weeks and months. This is a natural occurrence for those called to the life of the Sha’Tep. What is happening to the others is not natural.’
Considering how casually Osia’phest spoke of my becoming Sha’Tep, I couldn’t imagine anything I cared about less than Tennat’s suffering, but I still found myself asking, ‘What do you think is weakening them?’
‘There are poisons known to cause such symptoms … though the formulations are complex and known to only a few. However, it’s not impossible that a particularly clever and determined person might uncover them, given time and motivation.’ There was something in the old spellmaster’s eyes as he gazed at me … Was it concern? No. Suspicion. It was as if he was waiting for me to confess something. ‘Your house has feuded with that of Tennat in the past, has it not? One cannot help but note that most of those afflicted come from families who support the House of Ra, or who might make their own claim the title of clan prince.’
‘You can’t possibly think that I—’
Osia’phest put up his hands. ‘I make no such accusation. I know you to be a good lad, though reckless and, forgive me, somewhat callow at times. But what I have noted, so too will others. They may seek justice even in the absence of proof.’ He took in a deep breath and seemed to hold it for a while. ‘A people bound together by magic, and yet so often we seek to unleash the worst of that magic upon each other.’
I was trying to imagine any way in which this day could get any worse. Without success. I stood up and grabbed his arm. ‘Master Osia’phest, I didn’t do anything to anyone. I’m not responsible.’
He gently took my hand away. ‘Kellen, I’m afraid there is a great deal of difference between not doing something and not being responsible for it.’
I spent the next few hours watching and listening as Master Osia’phest ran the other initiates through recitations of incantations, hierarchies of mystical strictures and endless meditations during which, I was quite confident, Osia’phest took a few naps.