Magic Study

“How do you know?” I asked. “I may not be your—”

“Your soul fits the void in my soul perfectly. I’ve no doubt you’re mine. I hope you’ll call me Mother, but if you can’t you can call me Perl.”

I wiped at my face with the handkerchief Irys handed me. Glancing around, I looked for my father. Father. Another word that threatened to ruin what little dignity I had remaining.

“Your father’s out collecting samples,” Perl said, seeming to read my mind. “He’ll be back as soon as word reaches him.” Perl turned her head. I followed her gaze and saw Leif standing near us; his arms crossed over his chest and his hands bunched into fists. “You’ve met your brother. Don’t just stand there, Leif. Come give your sister a proper greeting.”

“I can’t stand the smell,” he said. He turned his back on us and stalked away.

“Don’t mind him,” my mother said. “He’s overly sensitive. He had trouble dealing with your disappearance. He was blessed with strong magic, but his magic is …” She paused. “Unique. He can sense where and what a person has been doing. Not specifics, but general feelings. The Council calls on him to help solve crimes and disputes, and to determine if a person is guilty or not.” She shook her head. “Those Zaltanas with magical powers have unusual abilities. What about you, Yelena? I feel the magic coursing through you.” A brief smile touched her lips. “My own limited ability. What is your talent?”

I glanced at Irys for help.

“Her magic was forced from her and was uncontrolled until recently. We have yet to determine her specialty.”

Color drained from my mother’s face. “Forced?”

I touched her sleeve. “It’s all right.”

Perl bit her lip. “Could she flame out?” she asked Irys.

“No. I have taken her under my wing. She has gained some measure of control. Although, she must come to the Magician’s Keep so I can teach her more about her magic.”

My mother grabbed my arms hard. “You must tell me everything that has happened to you since you were taken from us.”

“I …” A trapped feeling seized my throat.

Bavol Cacao stepped to my rescue. “The Zaltanas are honored that you have chosen one of ours as your student, Fourth Magician. Please let me escort your party to your rooms so you may freshen up and rest before the feast.”

Relief coursed through me, although the determined set to my mother’s jaw warned that she was not yet finished with me. Her grip tightened when Irys and the three girls moved to follow Bavol Cacao to our rooms.

“Perl, you’ll have plenty of time to spend with your daughter,” he said. “She’s home now.”

She released me, stepping back. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll ask your cousin, Nutty, to lend you some decent clothes for the feast.”

I grinned as we worked our way to the guest rooms. With all that had happened today, my mother had still managed to notice the clothes I wore.

The feast that night began as a sedate dinner, but then transformed into a party despite the fact that I might have offended my hosts by first tasting the many fruit dishes and seasoned cold meats for poisons before I ate. Old habits die hard.

The night air filled with the scent of burning citronella mixed with a damp earthy smell. After the meal, various Zaltanas pulled out musical instruments made of bamboo and twine, some jumped up to dance and others sang with the music. All the while, petite furry valmurs swung from the ceiling rafters and hopped from table to table. Some of my cousins had made pets of them. Splashes of black and white and orange and brown sat on their shoulders and heads. Other valmurs tumbled in the corners or stole food from the tables. May and the twins were delighted with the animals’ long-tailed antics. Gracena tried to tempt a little tan-and-gold valmur to eat from her hand.

My mother sat next to me. Leif hadn’t come to the feast. I wore a bright yellow and purple lily-patterned dress that Nutty had loaned me. The only reason I wore the obnoxious thing was to please Perl.

I thanked fate that Ari and Janco, my soldier friends from Ixia, weren’t here. They would be rolling with laughter to see me wearing such a gaudy outfit. But oh, how I missed them. I changed my mind, wishing they were here; it would be worth the embarrassment just to see the glint in Janco’s eyes.

“We need to leave in a few days,” Irys said to Bavol over the din of voices and music. Her comment caused a mood-dampening ripple in those around us.

“Why do you have to leave so soon?” my mother asked. Dismay creased her eyebrows tight together.

“I need to get the other girls home, and I’ve been away from the Citadel and the Keep for too long.”

The tired sadness in Irys’s voice reminded me that she hadn’t seen her family for nearly a year. Hiding and spying in the Territory of Ixia had drained her.

Our table was quiet for a while. Then my mother brightened. “You can leave Yelena here while you take the girls home.”

“It will be out of her way to come back for Yelena,” Bavol Cacao said.

Mother frowned at him. I could see her thoughts whirling behind her eyes. “Aha! Leif can take Yelena to the Citadel. He has business with the First Magician in two weeks.”

Emotions rolled through my chest. I wanted to stay, but I feared being separated from Irys. They were my family, yet they were strangers. I couldn’t help being wary; it was a skill learned in Ixia. And traveling with Leif seemed as unpalatable as drinking a wine laced with poison.

Before anyone could agree or disagree, Mother said, “Yes. That will do.” She ended all discussion on the matter.

The next morning I had a small panic attack when Irys pulled on her backpack. “Don’t leave me here alone,” I pleaded.

“You’re not alone. I counted thirty-five cousins and a whole mess of aunts and uncles.” She laughed. “Besides, you should spend some time with your family. You need to learn not to distrust them. I’ll meet you at the Magician’s Keep. It’s within the Citadel’s walls. In the meantime, keep practicing your control.”

“Yes, sir.”

May gave me a big hug. “Your family is so much fun. I hope my family lives in the trees, too,” she said.

I smoothed her braids. “I’ll try to visit you sometime.”

Irys said, “May might be at the Citadel’s school this cooling season if she can access the power source.”

“That would be great!” May cried out with delight. The twins both gave me a quick hug.

“Good luck,” Gracena said with a grin. “You’re going to need it.”

I followed them down the rope ladder and into the cooler air of the jungle floor to say goodbye. Watching Irys and the girls fight their way through the tight trail, I kept my eyes on them until they were out of sight. In their absence, my body felt paper-thin and in danger of being shredded by the light breeze.

In order to delay my return to the treetops, I studied my surroundings. The jungle’s canopy above showed no evidence of the Zaltana dwellings, and the thick vegetation all around prevented me from seeing too far in any direction. Even with the loud clamor of insects, I could hear the faint sound of water rushing and lapping nearby. But I couldn’t push past the growth to find the source.

Frustrated, sweaty and tired of being a meal for every mosquito, I gave up and climbed the rope ladder. Back in the warm and dry forest canopy, and among the labyrinth of rooms, I quickly became lost.

Unrecognizable faces nodded or smiled at me. Others frowned and turned away. I had no idea where my room was, or what I was supposed to be doing and I didn’t want to ask. The thought of telling my mother my life story was unappealing. Inevitable, I knew, but too much to bear at this moment. It had taken me almost a year to trust Valek with my history—how could I divulge my struggles to someone I’d just met?

So I wandered here and there, searching for a view of the “river” I had heard on the jungle floor. Large expanses of green filled every vista. Several times, I spotted the gray smoothness of a mountainside. Irys had told me the Illiais Jungle grew in a deep valley. Tucked into the crooks of the Daviian Plateau’s edge, the odd-shaped jungle was below the plateau’s rim, leaving only one side open for travelers.

“Very defensible,” Irys had said. “It’s impossible to scale the walls to reach the plateau.”

I was fooling around and testing my balance on a rope bridge when a voice startled me and I had to grab the handrail.

“What?” I tried to reestablish my footing.

“I said, what are you doing?” Nutty stood at the end of the bridge.

Sweeping an arm out, I said, “Taking in the view.”

I could tell by her dubious expression that I hadn’t convinced her. “Follow me if you want to see a real view.” Nutty bounded away.

I scrambled to keep up with her as she took shortcuts through the tree branches. Her thin arms and legs reached and grabbed vines with such flexibility that she reminded me of a valmur. When she entered a spot of sunlight, her maple-colored hair and skin glowed.

I had to admit there was one good thing about staying in the south. Instead of being the only person with tan skin, I finally looked as if I belonged. Living in the north with the pale-skinned Ixians for so long, though, had not prepared me for such a variety of brown skin tones. Much to my embarrassment, I had found myself gawking at the deeper mahogany skin colors when we had first entered Sitia.

Nutty stopped suddenly, and I almost knocked into her. We stood on a square platform in the tallest tree in the jungle. Nothing blocked the view.

An emerald carpet stretched out below us, ending at two sheer rock faces that angled toward each other. Where the two cliffs joined, a vast waterfall poured forth, ending in a cloud of mist. Beyond the top edge of the rock cliffs, I saw a flat expanse. A mixture of tans, yellows, golds and browns painted the smooth landscape.

“Is that the Daviian Plateau?” I asked.

“Yep. Nothing lives there but wild prairie grass. They don’t get a lot of rain. Beautiful, huh?”

“An understatement.”

Nutty nodded, and we stood for a while in silence. Finally, my curiosity broke the lull in conversation. I asked Nutty questions about the jungle, and eventually wove the conversation around to the Zaltana family.

“Why do they call you Nutty?” I asked.

She shrugged. “My real name is Hazelnut Palm Zaltana, but everybody’s called me Nutty since I was little.”

“So Palm is your middle name.”

“No.” Nutty swung down over the edge of the platform and into the tree branches that supported it. The leaves shook and after a moment, she climbed back. She handed me a group of brown nuts. “Palm, as in palm tree, is my family’s name. Zaltana is the clan name. Everyone who marries us has to take that name, but within the clan there are different families. Here, crack them like this …” Nutty took one of the nuts and banged it on a nearby branch, revealing an inner nib.

“Your family is Liana, which means ‘vine.’ Yelena means ‘shining one.’ Everyone is either named after something in the jungle or their name means something in the old Illiais language, which we’re forced to learn.” Nutty rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re lucky you missed that.” She poked me with a finger. “And you missed having to deal with obnoxious older brothers, too! I once got into trouble for tying mine up in a vine and leaving him hanging … Oh, snake spit! I forgot. Come on.” She hurried back through the trees.

“Forgot what?” I asked, scrambling after her.

“I was supposed to take you to your mother. She’s been looking for you all morning.” Nutty slowed only slightly to negotiate a rope bridge. “Uncle Esau’s back from expedition.”

Another family member to meet. I considered “accidentally” losing her. But remembering the hostile glares that I had received from some of my cousins, I stayed with Nutty. When I caught up to her, I grabbed her arm.

“Wait,” I panted. “I want to know why so many Zaltanas frown at me. Is it the blood smell?”

“No. Everyone knows Leif can see gloom and doom in everything. He’s always looking for attention.” She gestured at me. “Most of them think you’re not really a Zaltana, but a spy from Ixia.”

3

“YOU’RE JOKING RIGHT?” I asked. “They don’t really believe I’m a spy.”

Nutty nodded. Her ponytails, one on each side of her head, bobbed in contrast to her serious face. “That’s the gossip. Although, no one would dare breathe a word of that to Aunt Perl or Uncle Esau.”

“Why would they think such a thing?”

Her light brown eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe my stupidity. “Look at your clothes.” She gestured at my black pants and white shirt. “We all know northerners are forced to wear uniforms. They say if you were truly from the south, you wouldn’t want to wear pants ever again.”

I glanced at Nutty’s orange skirt. The hem was tucked up into her brown fur belt and she wore a pair of short yellow pants underneath.

Ignoring my stare, she said, “And you carry a weapon.”

That much was true. I had my bow with me in case I found a place to practice, but, so far, the only space big enough had been the common room and that was always too crowded. Now was probably not the best time to tell Nutty about the switchblade strapped to my thigh.

“Who’s been saying these things?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Different people.”

I waited. The silence drove the information out of her.

“Leif’s telling everyone that you don’t feel right to him. He says he would know his own sister.” She fidgeted with her sleeve, rolling up the bright cotton fabric. “Sitians are always worried that the Commander will attack us someday, and we think northern spies are gathering information on our ability to defend ourselves. Even though Leif tends to overreact, his magic is strong, so almost everyone believes you’re a spy.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I was going to wait and see.” She looked down at her bare feet. They were tanned and callused.

Another reason I stood out among the Zaltanas. I still wore my leather boots.

“That’s very smart,” I said.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

Nutty smiled. Her light brown eyes lit up. I noticed a sprinkle of freckles across her small nose. She continued to lead the way to my mother.

As I followed, I thought about the accusations that I was an Ixian spy. I wasn’t a spy, but I couldn’t say that I was a true southerner, either. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be called a Sitian. My reasons for being in the south were twofold: to avoid being executed and to learn how to use my magic. Meeting my family had been a bonus, and I wasn’t going to let some petty rumors ruin my time here. I decided to ignore any more sidelong glances for now.

There was no ignoring my mother’s fury, though, when Nutty and I reached her residence. Every muscle in her thin arms and long neck was pulled taut. Waves of unspoken anger pulsed from the petite woman.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Well, I saw Irys off, and then …” The explanation seemed weak in the face of her outrage, so I stopped.

“You’ve been gone from me for fourteen years, and we have only two weeks together before you go again. How could you be so selfish?” Without warning she crumpled into a chair as if all her energy had been pulled from her.

“I’m sorry …” I started.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that your speech and manners are so foreign. And your father’s back and anxious to see you. Leif’s been driving me crazy, and I don’t want my daughter to leave here feeling like she’s still a stranger.”

I hugged myself, feeling guilty and inadequate. She was asking for a great deal; I was sure to fail her in some way.

“Your father wanted to wake you in the middle of the night. I made him wait, and he’s been searching the homestead all morning,” Perl explained. “I finally sent him upstairs with something to do.” She swung her arms wide. “You’ll have to forgive us if we go too fast for you. Your arrival was so unexpected and I should have insisted you stay with us last night, but Irys warned us not to smother you.” She took a deep breath. “But it’s killing me. All I want to do is wrap you in my arms.” Instead, her arms dropped into her lap, resting on the blue-and-white fabric of her sleeveless dress.

I couldn’t reply. Irys had been right; I needed time before I would feel comfortable with the whole family dynamic, but I could also empathize with my mother. Each day, I missed Valek more than the day before. Losing a child had to be much worse.

Standing by the door, Nutty pulled at her ponytails. My mother seemed to realize she was there. “Nutty, can you fetch Yelena’s things from the guest quarters and bring them here?”

“Sure thing, Aunt Perl. I’ll have them here faster than a curari bat can paralyze a valmur.” In a flash of orange, Nutty was gone.

“You can stay in our extra room.” My mother pressed her hand to her throat. “It’s your room actually.”

My room. It sounded so normal. I had never had a place of my own before. I tried to imagine how I might have decorated it and made it my own, but I came up with a blank. My life in Ixia hadn’t included special items such as toys, gifts or art. I stifled a bark of laughter. My only private room had been my dungeon cell.

Perl jumped from her seat. “Yelena, please sit down. I’ll get us some lunch. You have no meat on your bones.” As she hurried away, she called toward the ceiling, “Esau, Yelena’s here. Come down for tea.”

Alone, I glanced around the sitting area. The warm air smelled faintly of apples. The couch and two armchairs appeared to be made from ropes woven together, yet they were hard to the touch. The furniture was unlike the other Zaltana chairs I had seen, which were constructed with branches and sticks tied together.

I settled into an armchair; the red leaf-patterned cushions crunched under my weight, and I wondered what had been stuffed inside them. My gaze lingered on a black wooden bowl on a small glass-topped table in front of the couch. The bowl looked to be hand carved. I tried to relax, which worked until I saw a long counter against the back wall.

Stretching across the length of the countertop was a series of odd-shaped bottles connected by loops of tubes. Unlit candles sat under some of the containers. The configuration reminded me of Reyad’s lab. The memory of his collection of glass jars and metal instruments unnerved me. Visions of being chained to a bed while Reyad searched for the perfect torture device caused sweat to roll down my neck and my heart to squeeze. I berated myself for my overactive imagination. It was ridiculous that a similar contraption could make me recoil after two years.

I forced myself closer. Amber liquid pooled in a few bottles. I picked up one and swirled the contents. A strong apple scent filled my nose. The memory of swinging and laughter floated into my mind. The image disappeared when I focused on it. Frustrated, I set the bottle down.

The shelves behind the table were lined with rows of more bottles. The contraption looked like a still for making alcohol. Perhaps the liquid was an apple brandy like General Rasmussen’s of Military District 7 in Ixia.

I heard my mother return, and turned around. She held a tray full of cut fruit, berries and some tea. Placing the lunch on the small table before the couch, she gestured for me to join her.

“Found my distillery, I see,” she said as if every Zaltana had one in their living room. “Smell anything familiar?”

“Brandy?” I guessed.

Her shoulders drooped just a bit, but her smile didn’t waver. “Try again.”

Putting my nose over one of the amber-filled bottles, I inhaled. The scent blanketed me in feelings of comfort and safety. It also choked and smothered. Memories of bouncing mixed with the image of lying on my back, clawing at my throat. I suddenly felt light-headed.

“Yelena, sit down.” My mother’s hand was on my elbow, guiding me to a chair. “You shouldn’t have breathed in so deeply. It’s very concentrated.” She kept her hand on my shoulder.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My Apple Berry perfume.”

“Perfume?”

“You don’t remember.” This time her disappointment showed as her smile faded from her lips. “I wore it all the time when you were a child. It’s my best-selling perfume—very popular with the magicians at the Keep. When you disappeared, I couldn’t wear it anymore.” Her hand touched her throat again as if she were trying to block either her words or emotions.

With the word “magicians” my windpipe tightened. The scene of my brief abduction at the Fire Festival the previous year played in my mind. The tents, the darkness and the smell of Apple Berry mixed with the taste of ashes and the image of Irys ordering four men to strangle me to death.

“Does Irys wear your perfumes?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Apple Berry is her favorite. In fact, she asked me last night to make her more. Does the scent remind you of her?”

“She must have worn it the first time we met,” I said, choosing not to say more. If it hadn’t been for Valek’s timely arrival, Irys would have succeeded in killing me. It was ironic how both my relationships with Irys and Valek began badly.

“I have found that certain smells are linked to specific memories. It’s something Leif and I have been working on as part of his project with First Magician. We’ve created a variety of scents and odors that we use to help victims of crime remember. These memories are very powerful, and they help Leif get a clearer picture of what happened to them.” She moved away from me. Sitting down, she spooned fruit into three bowls. “I had hoped the Apple Berry would trigger your memories of us.”

“I did get something, but …” I stopped, unable to put the brief impressions into words. I quelled my growing aggravation at being unable to recall anything from my six years of living here. Instead, I asked, “Do you make many perfumes?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Esau brings me wonderful flowers and plants to use. I enjoy making new perfumes and scents.”

“And she’s the best in the land,” a booming male voice said behind me. I turned to see a small, stout man enter the room. His resemblance to Leif was unmistakable.

“Her perfumes have been worn by Master Magicians, as well as the Queen and Princess of Ixia when they were alive,” Esau boasted. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me upright. “Yelena, my child, look how you’ve grown.” He squeezed me in a bear hug that lasted several seconds.

A strong odor of earth filled my nose. He released me, sat down with a bowl of fruit in his lap and a cup of tea in his hand before I could react. Perl handed me the other bowl as I resumed my seat.

Esau’s uncombed gray hair fell to his shoulders. As he ate, I saw that the lines on his hands were stained dark green.

“Esau, have you been playing with that leaf oil again?” Perl asked. “No wonder you took so long to come down. Trying to scrub it off so you wouldn’t smear it everywhere.”

I could tell by the way he ducked his head without responding that this was an old argument. Esau stared at me in silence, squinting and cocking his head from side to side as if deciding on something. His complexion resembled tea without the milk. Deep lines etched his forehead and fanned out from his eyes. He had a kind face used to laughing and crying.

“Now I want a report on what you’ve been doing all these years,” Esau said.

I suppressed a sigh. No more chances to avoid it. Used to obeying orders in the north, I told them about growing up in General Brazell’s orphanage in Military District 5. I glossed over the unpleasant years when I had reached maturity and become Reyad and Mogkan’s laboratory rat. My parents were distressed enough just hearing about their plans to use their kidnapped victims’ magical power to help Brazell overthrow the Commander; I saw no reason to tell them the brutal details of how they had erased the southern children’s minds.