Chapter 41: Chapter 39. A Tiny Pebble

“So this is the source?”

“Yes and no. Look closer, mother: while he casts ripples all around him, they aren’t his.”

“Then where is it coming from?”

“I do not know. Whatever it might be — it is faint and elusive like the gaze of a stalking predator, hidden in the undergrowth. Patient and calculating.”

“Nevertheless, he brings calamity into the River of Fate. He needs to be removed.”

“His removal would render us blind to the predator’s gaze.”

“If such a predator exists in the first place.”

“I do not wish to risk it.”

“Fine. Place him in one of the negation vaults. It would limit his interference while allowing us to study and explore this unique ability of his in greater detail.”

“Mother.”

“I am aware of how you spend your time. But your sister told me that he is sharing our knowledge. You can observe the murk once he is in the castle.”

“You know the fate of Emanai. They are bound to discover that knowledge by themselves.”

“Within the next thousand years, yes. They will grow into it once they are ready so that Emanai will remain stable. And a stable country is a prosperous one. And I will not have some murk trample through my domain thinking that he knows better. You are still young, but I have seen plenty of heurisks who were eager to show off only to watch their lands crash and burn.”

“He is aware.”

“So he does it intentionally? You are convincing me more and more that he needs to be removed.”

“Look into his future.”

“He is a murk. His fate is too faint for me to see. Despite all the ripples. Especially due to the ripples.”

“Don’t look at him. Look at the others around. Or, better yet, look at your daughter.”

“…”

“…”

“Forget about the vault. I will kill him myself.”

“Or you can leave him to me. I have found him first and I plan to keep that claim. You can see the fate paths — his future actions are of a reactive kind.”

“Why are you so eager to have him roam? This is more than your usual desire to observe.”

“Oh, I am not just curious; I am very curious! This is not one of the ‘daimonas’ — this is not a heurisk walking the land nor is he a child of one by a murk mother. He might be the child of Mreea herself!”

“Have you drank too much wine today? A murk as a child of the Earth-Mother? Are you insane?”

“But it all fits! Spark is a Gift of the Sky-Father to his bride. While we are the children of their union — he is hers. I have scried the place where he was born. The murk you see did not emerge from the womb of a murk mother — he walked out from the womb made of earth, metal, and stone! The Flow whispered back a word to me, different than ‘Tana’ — it spoke of ‘Terra’.

“He calls himself a human, not murk. I asked him once what that word meant. He said soil. Dirt. He calls his kind a lump of clay, mother. A fitting name for a child of Mreea. Look at the waves he casts across the river of Fate and tell me he is not a portent for the things to come. A warning from the Goddess below.”

“This ‘warning’ interferes with my land. Are you trying to suggest that I’ve displeased the Goddess?”

“This ‘warning’ predicted shrinking borders after a single glance on the map. After complaining that I gave him a land map and not one of ours, mind you. He spoke of our lands that strain to feed the arms as it was something expected. Moreover, he spoke of cycles. The circles of life of a country as it grows, matures, and dies. And then he said that the cycle can be broken. Changed. Forged into a chain.”

“And you believed him?”

“Look at the mother of the child. He promised her wealth beyond imagination. Aikerim Adal is shrewd for a wermage and is ambitious enough to imagine much. Look into her future and tell me if he lied to her. Look and ask yourself: can some daimon achieve that?”

“…”

“He is enriching your land, mother. Your Houses.”

“He would make one House eclipse all others and destabilise the country once again. Have you forgotten the hubris of the House of War?”

“You can split it just as you broke up that House. This is not an immediate issue — leave him to me. Let me oversee his path as you enjoy his current and future gifts while dealing with matters that are important and pressing. Did Magistra make any announcements?”

“…No, but families are stirring. What about your sister?”

“Didn’t you let her come here so she could grow? I will let her grow. Not around wermages that fear her status and vie for her benevolence, but against something she cannot control. I do not wish to see my sister grow up like a flower under a glass globe, unused to the realities of life. Let her make mistakes now while it is safe to do so, rather than later when consequences could be dire.”

“What does he seek? Power? Knowledge?”

“A tree.”

“A tree!?”

“Indeed. Isn’t it curious? He is looking for a tree in the Forest!”

“A connection to the Cancer sprouts?”

“I don’t think so. What he seeks is Spark-less. The Forest and its sprouts glow. I also saw him inspect one of the Forest trees, taste it even. His actions didn’t speak of familiarity but curiosity.”

“Spark-less? Does he know about the Scar?”

“That is what I intend to find out, mother.”

“Fine…you can keep him for a while. But not for long — Half a century, no more. And I will keep looking into the river of Fate. Make sure I do not see anything that would force my hand to act sooner.”

“Thank you, Cait.”

 

Anaise Kiymetl Hilal

Her ears were deaf from the loud beating of the heart but she kept her gaze on the magical pavement of The Divine Castle. The rock was warm and soft to the touch. Anaise didn’t care that her fingers were touching something that most wermages would never see in their entire lives. She also didn’t dare to raise her head.

The Goddess was in front of them.

Even as she kept herself prostrated in a reverent bow, Anaise could feel the Flow gushing across the room. A violent sea, not a calm river. Worst of all, she could feel where all that Flow was moving.

Toward the brightest Spark among many.

Anaise couldn’t discern all who were there. She could hear Irje and Yeva breathing quietly nearby, and she could tell her mother by Spark. The other Sparks weren’t familiar enough to identify. They belonged to Kiymetl, but that was all she knew.

All but one — a bright Shebet Spark of Albin Chasya. Located at the centre of the Flow vortex with the Divine origin.

A bead of sweat fell from her forehead and landed on the floor, disappearing in an instant. Anaise didn’t care if the Divine Heurisk had anything against Albin Chasya. But she also knew that he was not the focus of the vortex.

Her husband was.

His Spark-less body was invisible to her, but she knew exactly where he was right until the light swallowed her procession. Erf was talking to Albin. Anaise knew of it — she approved it herself just so his sadaq could smirk at an apoplectic Amanzhan Irada.

And now, Anaise was cursing herself for that moment of weakness.

They were supposed to stand with him! Around him. Anaise promised to stand with him during the Divine Ritual. She was supposed to shield him from threats beyond his status and yet here she was, rubbing her forehead into the floor while Erf had to rely on Albin instead.

Shame. Shame burned through her veins, forcing her to bite her lip in frustration and powerlessness. What kind of wife would she be if she couldn’t even protect her only husband!? Could she even keep her husband?

The vortex vanished for a moment only to come back again, stronger than before. Flow screamed around her as the Goddess returned her attention to the room. Anaise wasn’t the only one to shake in trepidation: The Divine Heurisk was angry, indignant.

Guards shifted as the crowd stirred around her and Anaise stilled her breath. In the scant few days before her Entrance Feast, she dared to reminisce on tales about the heroes of the past. The proud women who stood tall even in front of the Gods and, in turn, were well rewarded for their bravery and virtue.

Every girl looked up to them. Every girl wanted to be like them. Anaise was no exception. And now, when Fate put her on the scales of judgement, she had found herself wanting. When she looked into her heart, there was no inner steel of the Brave Dayana Rauan. Her thoughts scattered and hid in the corners of her soul, unlike the ingenious ideas and tricks of Mansiya the Wise.

A drop of blood fell from her lips. There was only Anaise the meek. She searched for virtue but, when life asked, all she had found was fear.

Flow ebbed away as the thrum of indignation dissipated, almost as if mollified. Or, as a sea that was getting ready for the storm ahead.

“Lift your head, young wermage on the cusp of her life.” A voice rang across the room. It was feminine but surprisingly deep and soft, like a rumble of a mountain. So that was how Divines sounded like.

Anaise licked her bitten lip and glanced up, quickly healing the broken skin in the process. There was no question in her mind that the command was said to her and her alone. Not only was she the youngest wermage in the procession, but Anaise had also been leading the procession up to the Landing Altar. Up until they were summoned to the Divine Castle.

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Now she was the first before Goddess.

Anaise tried to look as hard as she could, but Spark in front of her made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. She knew there was an impressive tail just by her posture and she could almost see the outline of the three horns, hidden by the veil around her headdress. The veil that couldn’t mask the blue glow coming from her eyes and mouth.

She couldn’t see her skin, but the two guards beside her weren’t covered as much. They had enormous tails with crescent fins and three horns on their heads. They were Divine just like their Goddess.

And both of them had Arksite skin.

“Your gifts surprised me, young one,” the Divine Heurisk said. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“I am happy to be of service, oh Divine Heurisk.”

Anaise felt the sweat accumulating once again at the small of her back, right above her tail. She had studied for years, but no one taught her how to commune with the Goddess. This was a task for the Censor! Or one of the Speakers, at least.

“While all my Houses are filial to me, it is rare that one would give so much, and so suddenly.”

“The Fate had smiled upon us, oh Divine Heurisk.”

“The Fate… Have you ever wondered what Fate looks like, young wermage?”

Anaise swallowed. “No Goddess.”

“Some see it as a fickle bird that flies whenever it wants. Today, it could shed some feathers made of gold; tomorrow, it could drop a glowing ember over your house. Do you know how I see it?”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume,” Anaise said while trying her hardest not to glance at Erf.

“I see it as a mountain with me on the top,” the Goddess proclaimed. “Everything I do is a rock that I cast down. Sometimes it is a pebble, sometimes it is a boulder larger than this city. But it is not the size that matters. What is important is the path that said rock takes. A boulder could lodge itself right on the top while a tiny pebble could start an avalanche across the mountain, crushing the intricate pattern that I’ve built with previous rocks.

“It takes power and ability just to see the mountain shifting under you. It takes skill and practice to know what each rock would do before you cast it. To build a mountain rather than scatter stones around. To be the Heurisk. The lands of Emanai? That was my Gift to you. The mountain that I’ve built for your ancestors so they would have a safe creche for their children.”

“We are forever grateful, Divine Heurisk,” Anaise said during the looming pause.

“As you should be,” came the immediate response. “But some pebbles have a mind of their own.”

Her heart stumbled, only to start thundering once again within her chest. Loud like the drums of war.

“They jump and hop, blind to the shifting ground underneath them. Eager to claim a spot they see as theirs only to curse Fate as they stumble into an abyss. Tell me — what should I do with these rocks? Should I cast them as I did all others? Or should I throw them away so they won’t disrupt the order?”

Anaise felt the sweat on her palms. “I wouldn’t dare—”

The Divine Heurisk tutted. “That question is a pebble, young one. It shifts and writhes and you have no idea where it will land. Are you going to give me an answer and throw that rock where you think it should go? Or will you throw it away and claim that it is not your place to say?”

The Goddess loomed over her as Anaise clawed at her mind, trying to grasp at anything before her silence would annoy her Goddess. Deaf due to the loud buzzing in her ears and the pounding heartbeat within her chest.

This wasn’t a question about some piece of stone. This was about Erf. The Goddess stood in front of her and placed The Emanai Manorat on one side of the scales and her husband on another. And then she told her to choose which was more important to her.

Anaise couldn’t say Erf. Emanai was more than a name: just as the Goddess said, it was a place of safety that gave safety to her House for more than a thousand years. By choosing the other, she would spit on her family. A personal exile would be the least of her worries.

Anaise didn’t want to say Emanai. She didn’t come this far only to throw him away. He might be a pebble in someone’s shoes, annoying and irritating, but he was like a boulder of pure gold for her.

“B-but…If you throw the pebble away, it would still fall somewhere?” she blurted out.

The wermages hissed behind her and she shrank inside her kaftan. Stupid! Stupid! She should’ve tried to think a bit longer rather than try to play words with the Goddess herself!

The Divine Heurisk chuckled. “Indeed. The mountain is everywhere.”

A breath of relief escaped her lips. If Anaise wasn’t kneeling already, she would’ve collapsed.

“That mountain is the sum of all actions, young one. You can close your eyes and discard your problems but all you would accomplish is ignorance of where they land. That is what makes these pebbles so tricky — they need to be placed. Not thrown.”

Anaise stayed silent.

The glowing eyes peered at her through the veil. “Tell me, young one. Are you a filial daughter of Emanai?”

“I am,” she whispered.

Somewhere, on that mountain of Fate, a divine boulder finally shifted and started rolling downhill.

“Are you willing to do what is good for your homeland? What is good for your House?”

The image that Goddess planted in her thoughts, wouldn’t leave Anaise alone. A wermage in front of her Goddess. A tiny pebble lying on the slope of a mountain, watching the boulder of Divine origin rolling at her with the inevitability of Fate.

“I do.” Another whisper left her trembling lips.

She knew what was about to happen. She understood that it needed to happen — who was she to question the decisions of the Goddess? The boulder would take its fated spot and she would be one among many pebbles to pave its road. And Emanai would continue to prosper. And so might she, just without Erf.

Her hands clenched into fists. Without her future children.

“So when your Goddess calls for you, will you give her what is needed?”

Anaise didn’t want to be crushed by that boulder. Not right now. Not when her future was the brightest. Not when her children could eclipse all wermages of Emanai. She couldn’t stop the boulder but she didn’t want to be a pebble either.

She clutched her sleeve just to stop the shaking in her hands. Anaise wanted to be the other pebble. The one that the Divine Heurisk warned her about. She wanted to jump and hop away from the boulder so it would pass leaving her future intact.

Her soul screamed at her, warning of the impending doom, exile, and execution. Only to drown in the screams of her heart.

“Yes, my Goddess.” Anaise tried to keep herself firm. “My sadaq and I will work hard to give what is asked of us.”

She heard a faint murmur between the wermages. Irje and Yeva stayed quiet but she could hear their subtle shifts in posture. Anaise tried to ignore all of that — this wasn’t their battle. And it was too late to change her mind. No matter how terrified she was.

The glowing eyes crinkled behind the veil. “Your sadaq?”

“Yes, my Goddess. My two wives—” Anaise turned around and gestured at Irje and Yeva, ignoring the scandalised looks on other wermages, “—and my husband, who is kneeling beside the Speaker of Shebet.”

Her Matriarch stirred, rising. “Anaise Hilal! I—“

“Silence.” The Divine Heurisk instantly suppressed the entire room without raising her voice. “My, it appears that your family doesn’t approve of your choices.”

“I-I’ve made my choice.”

“So, you’ve cast your pebble.”

“I-it’s for the best of my House.”

Flow rushed through the room and swirled around her.

“You seek his child.”

“Yes, Divine Heurisk.” Anaise looked away. Lying was futile in front of the Goddess.

“But not right now… No, the stars aren’t right. How peculiar…” The Divine Heurisk chuckled and glanced past her, where Erf stood, only to shake her head afterwards. “You have made me curious, young one. Your gifts, your company… Your choices. The Censor will contact you at a later date to inform your Manor of your duties. Fear not — you will be rewarded in turn, for I am a benevolent ruler.”

Anaise hurriedly bowed once again. “Thank you, my Goddess!”

The clothes rustled and the large blue palm caressed her cheek. “Don’t thank me yet, young one. When you are heavy with child, seek my Censor: it is my wish to see the future that you’ve cast today.”

Before Anaise could say anything else, another flash of light spread across the room. Blinking the white away, she felt the warm tiles of The Divine Castle contort and shift until they resembled the cold marble of the Altar of Landing.

With a gasp, she jumped upright and looked around. A crowd of onlookers stood all around them with mouths wide open and fingers pointing. Praising the name of the Goddess. Her gaze quickly glanced across the select few who were still getting up from the floor. Anaise glanced at her mother, sighing in relief, then at Irje and Yeva to hear an impressed whistle and see a grateful smile. And then she looked at Erf who stood beside an Albin Chasya dying from laughter.

She walked toward him, ignoring the pins and needles in her legs and the looks of those who heard her proclamation. Glaring at the Speaker of Shebet, who somehow found this historical event as some sort of joke.

“That is your husband’s fault!” Albin chuckled. “Apparently if you throw a pebble fast enough, it won’t reach the ground. It might strike you in the back of the head, though!”

“Albin? Shut up.” Anaise dismissed him without care as her fingers grabbed the familiar cuff of the khalat. She sighed in relief — Erf was still here. Not dead, not at The Divine Castle. Here. With her.

“I only mentioned orbital m—mph!”

Anaise ignored his ramblings and simply pulled him in a kiss.

She had earned it.

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