Where Kneave was a closed city of shuttered trade, Ankyo, the capital of Kion, was a flourishing cornucopia of open spaces and color. It was a kingdom made up of other kingdoms, invaded by one or the other at different times in history before finally breaking away and achieving independence on its own terms. But such influences remained—from the severe-looking headscarves worn by some that were reminiscent of Drycht to the cylindrical top hats favored by men from the Yadosha city-states to the multiple inclined roofs of the houses here, distinctive in Arhen-Koshon and Daanorian architecture. The roads were wider, which I preferred, and most of the houses were simpler in design, no more than small square structures with white walls and angled roofs.
The Odalian capital was a colorful place, where people showed off their silks and jewelry, and many Kions made up for their simple homes with elaborate wardrobes. I didn’t know how I wasn’t constantly tripping over cloths and hems, for the people favored heavier garments as much for fashion statements as for the colder seasons. Long trains of satin trailed behind the women, coupled with yards of sleeves of intricate designs that hung from their elbows or spilled down from their waists, imitating the asha’s traditional hua. Headscarves were not as common in Ankyo as in Kneave, but every now and then, I spotted a covered head among the crowds. Many here chose to wear their hair loose or had elaborately coiffed hairstyles that sported as many as three or four gemstone ornaments. The men wore less than the women, but the designs stitched into their long tunics and overcoats covered every inch of space, elaborate to the point of fastidiousness. There was no surface on their clothes that did not have embroidery or patterns or motifs of paisley and crests in some way. Two or three layers of clothing appeared to be the standard, and Lady Mykaela’s beautiful hua suited the Kion fashion perfectly.
And if the magic the Odalians wore had been enough to make my head spin, the spells here nearly forced me to my knees. Waves of it emanated from nearly every person we passed, and the world spun. I swayed in my saddle, and only Fox’s quick thinking kept me from falling off my horse.
“Take these.” Lady Mykaela was beside me in a moment, offering me two jeweled pins like the ones she wore in her hair. One was a curved accessory set with beautiful star sapphires, and the other was plainer, shaped like a strangely gnarled crescent moon, and wrapped in silver wire and amethyst. “Pin these to your hair.”
The dizziness abated when I put both on. I could still feel the magic roaring around me, but it felt strangely muted and no longer hurt my eyes or my mind. “A countermeasure,” the asha explained. “Do not let the simplicity of our city fool you. Kions take their love of magic to an even greater extreme than Odalians do.”
“Is it always like this?” It seemed offensive to me somehow, how people wasted their magic this way, when the villagers in Murkwick struggle to make every runeberry patch count.
“There is a reason they call Ankyo the City of Plenty, Tea. Most Kions are rich, which also means they can’t help themselves.”
Kion castles were different in structure from Odalian castles. They were smaller in size but boasted multiple floors, each layer marked by a bowed rooftop—thinner than the ones in the kingdom of Daanoris but less ornate than those of Arhen-Kosho. The result was not unlike several tiers of sugared cake piled atop one another with pointed spires on every corner curling up into the sky. But this time, Lady Mykaela ignored the palace and turned to a small district nearby and into another world entirely.
The houses here were not as small and as square as most of the city but longer and more rectangular in form, the size of two or three average Ankyon houses. The walls facing the street were made of thick adobe and white brick, plain and devoid of any other design. “We call this the Willows,” Lady Mykaela said, “home to the greatest asha in all the kingdoms.”
“There aren’t any willows,” Fox said, who sometimes took things literally.
“Here is one.” And Lady Mykaela placed a hand on my shoulder.
She led us to one house in particular. Only a peculiar symbol painted on a wooden sign out front distinguished it from several others along that same street. Beyond the initial doorway was a long strip of corridor that led into the inner rooms. The asha paused at a spot where the cobbled ground ended and the carefully tamped-down earthen floor I would learn was common in all asha-ka began. She took off her shoes and placed them in a small wooden cubicle built for that purpose and signaled for us to do the same.
The narrow passageway continued into an airy room that was both a reception hall and a transition place between the rest of the rooms and the street outside. Thick rugs of beautiful geometric designs lined the walls, and the floor was similarly covered with a thinner, less intricate carpet. The ceiling was higher than I had anticipated, with sloping curves that formed a hollowed out dome at its center. A small screen stood at the farthest end of the room, preventing visitors from seeing the inner chambers within, and a towering flower display was arranged on a table before it. A steel coal brazier lay in one corner, blazing merrily.
Two people rose to meet us as we entered. The first was a very old woman, her skin stretched so tautly over her bones that she looked nearly like a skeleton herself. Her hair was completely white and carefully set against the back of her skull in a severe bun. She reminded me of an aged tamra cat’s, with her triangularly shaped face and pointed chin. Her cheeks were sunken in, but her eyes were a bright and intelligent green. She wore a hua even more elegant and elaborate than Lady Mykaela’s; it was an abstract design of pale amber against a deep-brown background and an olive-green waist wrap with actual emeralds sewn into the gold-embroidered silk, matching the color of her eyes. She held a large, ornate fan with gold calligraphy that she kept snapping open and closed every few seconds.
Beside her was a round-faced girl wearing a simple peach robe over a gray tunic. Her dark hair was plaited into two braids, the ends of which traveled past her hips. She was remarkably pretty and looked curiously first at me and then at Fox.
But the older woman ignored us, addressing the asha instead. “And what is a man doing inside our asha-ka?” She had a high, penetrating voice that yowled out words rather than spoke them.
“It can’t be helped, Mother. He comes with her.”
The old woman refused to look at me. “Highly improper, highly improper. There are no rooms available for men here, whether they be wretched familiars or not. You know that, Mykaela.”
“The Owajin boardinghouse is only a block away from the district, Mother. I can talk to the mistress there and set up lodgings for him.”
“Do that, but do not arrange for anything more permanent. These wretchlings of yours come and fail so often that it would cost us more in the long run. Have you brought her to the oracle?”
“Not yet, Mother.”
“I don’t see why you bring these waifs here without consulting the oracle. If they do not pass the test, then they are not welcomed here.”
“This one is different.”
“Ha! You thought the same of those other wretchlings! What you consider ‘different’ matters little to me. Your unkempt charge might burn herself out soon enough, and then we would have to shoulder that expense on top of everything. Take her to the oracle, and then we shall see.” She snapped her folding fan close one last time. “Come, Shadi.”
The girl in the peach robe shot us an apologetic look but obeyed.
“That’s your mother?” I whispered to the asha, aghast, as soon as the two had left the room.
Lady Mykaela chuckled. “I call her Mother, but we aren’t related by blood. This is the House Valerian, my asha-ka, and she is Mistress Parmina, who runs it.”
I was even more horrified. One of the books my father had bought for me dealt with the exploits of contemporary asha, and one of the warrior-maidens it told about was a woman named Parmina of the Fires. She had once served as the personal bodyguard to King Farnod, who also happened to be King Telemaine’s father and Prince Kance’s grandfather. The book talked in glorious detail of the many instances she had saved him from an assassin’s blade before leaving to head her own asha-ka. Surely this could not be the same Parmina. The tale I remembered did not match that pinched face and that thin, reedy voice.
“She is one and the same. Do not let her appearance deceive you. She is still a powerful asha in her own right, and she is also one of Kion’s best minds. She’s a bit waspish now, because it is morning and she hates to have her sleep interrupted. Let us bring you to the oracle and prove her wrong.”
“What did she mean about passing a test?” I asked once we were back out in the street. Instead of leaving the district, Lady Mykaela led us even deeper into its center. People stopped to bow low to Lady Mykaela before hurrying on. Some shot Fox and I inquisitive looks but did not linger to ask questions.
“It is a requirement for asha novices to be brought to the oracle but not to pass her test. Many who have failed the first time have gone on to become skilled spellbinders—apprentices must pass only their second tests, when they make their debut. Faceless insurgents have always been a problem, and the first test is simply our way of weeding them out.”
“But if they do not pass—”
“For different reasons, and not because they are spies. Mother, unfortunately, is highly superstitious. If the oracle does not approve of a girl at their first meeting, Mother will not accept her into the Valerian. I believe it has something to do with what the oracle herself told Mother when she was an apprentice.”
I didn’t know what to say. A part of me balked at having traveled so far only to be turned away, but another part rejoiced at the possibility that they would return me to my family if I failed.
“There are many other asha-ka who are willing to take in those who Mother rejects,” Lady Mykaela said, dispelling that last hope. “But do not worry yourself over it. I am certain you will succeed.”
“But…why would she even consider letting bone witches into her asha-ka? Aren’t we bad luck?”
“In Kion, we call ourselves Dark asha. ‘Bone witch’ is offensive here just as much as it is in Odalia, but all asha take offense at the term. And Dark asha are not necessarily a prerequisite to fail the oracle’s test, little one. Mistress Simin, who was head of the Valerian before she died and Mother took over, was also a Dark asha.” She smiled kindly at me. “Do not let the prejudices of a few people affect your place in the greater scheme of Kion. In the Willows, all asha are equally respected.”
The oracle lived in a small shrine at the very center of town. It was small compared to the other asha-ka around it but looked more impressive. It had a double-domed roof, and I could see colorless smoke rising out of its top, like wayward clouds drifting back into the sky. A pillar of thin columns stretched across the entrance before large doors built of polished wood.
“I cannot join you inside,” Lady Mykaela said quietly. “It is forbidden for more than one asha to enter at the same time, so Fox and I will wait here until you return.”
“But what do I do?”
“The oracle will ask you for an item. Take the sapphire pin I had given you for this. Answer her honestly, little one. Asha also means ‘truth,’ and truth is the only weapon you need. The oracle sometimes speaks in riddles, but what she says must remain between the two of you.” A small bell hung from one side. The asha rung it three times, the sound loud to my ears in the quiet. “Now go. She is waiting.”
The entranceway led to a narrow passage not unlike the one we had entered the Valerian by, lit only by small torches on the walls. The path seemed to go on forever, and it constantly curved to the right like a snake winding around itself, leading into a large room devoid of furniture or decoration.
The first thing I saw when I stepped into the main chamber were the fires. They rose up from a large brazier at the center, but rather than breathe in soot and ash, I found myself taking in the smell of sandalwood. A small figure dressed in white was seated before it, and the train of her dress spread out around her like a pristine fan. A veil was drawn across her face, so I was unable to see her features, but when she lifted an arm, I saw her hand, smooth and unwrinkled.
“What is your sacrifice?” Her voice was like a mournful chorus that spoke as one, and it echoed across the bare room.
I fumbled at my hair and pulled at the pin I wore, the one made from star sapphires.
“Throw it into the fire.”
I hesitated, shocked. Surely Lady Mykaela didn’t mean to give me something so valuable only to be wasted in this manner? My hand wavered between the expensive blue gems and the less costly amethyst with its odd crescent.
The veiled woman made a swift, impatient gesture.
“Throw it into the fire, child.”
It hurt to see those sapphires lost to the flames. The oracle remained unmoved, staring hard at the center of the fire, so close that I feared sparks would fall on her veil and clothes and burn her.
“Do you truly wish to return home, child?”
A yes hovered at my lips, but I hesitated. Lady Mykaela had told me to answer the oracle’s question honestly. All throughout the journey, I had convinced myself that there was nothing I wanted more than to go back home to Knightscross. But then I recalled the hostility of the villagers, people I had long considered to be friends. In truth, I had thought much like them, but now that I was on the other side of that hate, I refused to go back to that way of thinking.
If I did return, I knew they would still treat me differently, even if I never drew the Dark for the rest of my life.
And then there was another reason.
The woman waited. Countless asha must have entered her sanctum, must have wrestled with the same choices I did.
“No.” The word came out small and disbelieving. “I do not wish to return home.”
“Why?”
I swallowed. “Because I like how the power to wield the magic feels.”
The flames seemed to blaze brighter, as if the fire had heard my answer and approved.
“You will change Ankyo, for the good and also for the bad. You will change Kion. You will change the Eight Kingdoms. Return to me once you have entered a mind from where three heads sprout.” And the woman turned away.
As I left the room, I saw her reach toward the fire. I saw the flames curling toward her outstretched hand, like a child would to his mother or a man would to his wife. And then a heavy gust swept through the room, dousing the fires in one swift motion, plunging the room into darkness. I looked over to where the white figure had stood, but she had disappeared with the wind. I was alone.
“Congratulations, Tea.” Lady Mykaela was smiling as I stepped out of the temple. “I knew you could do it.”
“How did you…?”
“The smoke changed,” Fox said quietly. I turned to look and saw it rising out from the covered dome a light blue color, no longer the colorless wisps I’d seen when I entered. We had attracted a small crowd while I was inside, and people were already coming forward, proffering Lady Mykaela their congratulations. The Dark asha’s face beamed; Fox’s looked less enthusiastic.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught someone staring at me. He was swathed in black from head to toe, the way Drychta women preferred their dress. The eyes were veiled, but I had the impression that they were staring straight at me, and it wasn’t friendly.
I blinked, and the apparition was gone from view.
“Tea? Is something wrong?”
It’s nothing.
“It’s nothing,” I echoed and turned away.