Spellslinger (Spellslinger #1)(45)

‘Speak,’ Mer’esan said, still pacing around me. ‘I’m growing impatient of watching you stand there.’

‘A moment,’ I said.

Despite the avarice of our enemies, we had never been subjugated. Our magic had always been too strong. So why was Mer’esan – the oldest and most knowledgeable person in our clan – suddenly so concerned?

‘Ask the question,’ she demanded, her sandals slapping against the wooden floor.

‘What is the one foe that magic cannot withstand?’ I asked.

She stopped, and patted me on the arm. ‘Good,’ she said, her voice suddenly weary. ‘This is the question that men like your father, like those pompous fools on the council, cannot think to ask. The very possibility of a threat that magic cannot solve is utterly foreign to them.’

Whereas for me, the possibility of using magic to solve anything is fading fast.

‘The second trial comes to an end and you have failed it,’ she said, without a trace of sympathy in her voice. ‘Now you fear you will fail the third as well.’

‘How can I create a spell using two disciplines when I can’t break even one of my bands?’

‘I told you once before: do not ask questions to which you already know the answer.’

‘Then … it’s over. My sixteenth birthday is in a few days. I’m never going to become a mage. I’m going to be Sha’Tep.’

I felt myself becoming dizzy, as if just saying the words out loud had drained the strength from my limbs. Mer’esan held my arms. ‘You will never be a Jan’Tep mage like your father and mother. Whether you become a servant like your uncle is up to you.’

Like a child I held out my forearms, the metallic ink of the bands almost glistening in the cottage’s soft light. ‘Can’t you help me? You have the power, I know you do. Can’t you—’

‘I cannot,’ she said simply.

‘Why?’ I asked, tears sliding down my cheeks. ‘Why is this happening to me? Why won’t anyone help me?’

She didn’t answer, but simply led me by the hand to the door of the cottage. ‘These are the questions of a child, Kellen. You already found the one that matters, the one that binds all of our fates together. Ask it again.’

She had ushered me outside. ‘What is the foe that can’t be defeated by magic?’

Mer’esan looked at me, her face so full of sadness that for the first time she looked every one of her years. ‘The truth,’ she replied.





THE THIRD TRIAL


To rely on those spells already known is to allow the enemy to know your weapons. Our magic cannot be stagnant, but must adapt and change to protect our people against those who would take it from us. Only those who can demonstrate the ability to devise new spells can truly be called Jan’Tep and earn a mage’s name.





19


Blood Magic


The coarse sand on the path leading to the village square scratched at the skin of my bare feet as I crept along, as quietly as I could, cursing the way the food I’d stolen from the kitchen bounced awkwardly inside the cloth sack against my back. I’d been a fool to bring so much. If anyone caught me near the nekhek’s cage I’d have a tough time convincing them I was there for a midnight picnic.

Go back, part of me commanded. There are probably things worse than becoming a Sha’Tep, and if you get caught you’re going to find out exactly what they are.

I couldn’t just go back though. I’d spent hours sitting in my room in the darkness, trying to think of some way to spark my bands, to prove Mer’esan wrong. It got me nowhere. Through all of it I just kept finding myself staring at the blood-red markings on the card Ferius had given me and thinking about the animal that had saved my sister’s life, sitting in a cage, waiting to die.

I shifted the bag to redistribute its weight across my shoulders. Would the nekhek even want any of the food I’d brought? What did they eat, anyway, when they weren’t supposedly feasting on the soft flesh of Jan’Tep babies?

The sound of a door opening stopped me in my tracks. I held my breath and crouched in the shadows as a man with limp grey hair stumbled out of the house barely five feet from me. He pulled down the front of his trousers and let out a loud belch. The sickly-sweet smell of his breath reached me a second before the stench of his urine. I held my breath, praying he’d stop before the urge to wretch overcame me.

The old man looked down, admiring the stream of his piss as it went on and on, the puddle it formed on the ground leaking back down the slope towards me. A few seconds later I began to feel the trickle of urine work its way between my toes. The steady hiss finally stuttered to an end, followed by a deep sigh and then a cough. The old man didn’t even bother hoisting his pants back up. He just stood there, looking up at the moon reaching his right hand back to lean against the side of the house while the other idly scratched his hip.

My legs were beginning to burn from crouching so long and again I considered turning on my heels and running, but if I left now I didn’t think I’d have the courage to try again later. Damn Ferius Parfax and her stupid cards and her idiotic frontier philosophy. Do what you think the man you want to be would do.

Fine, Ferius. I’d look the nekhek in the eyes. I’d even give it something to eat. Out of all the different foods I’d stuffed in the bag, there must be something that would appeal to the little monster. Maybe it would gorge itself and choke to death and save everyone a good deal of trouble.