Chapter 9
Raining Wizards
The future is not wrought in stone, but flows in water. -Night
--
Wayden
The gate clanged behind Wayden and Big Darius as they headed out onto the street.
"Fess, Toast," Big Darius said, bringing the wheel barrow to a halt. "You used magic on them scagazi, you did."
Wayden threw a stick into the wheel barrow. "You’ll never stop asking me about this will you?"
"Not till you tell the truth."
"The truth is you're alive and I'm alive and we should thank the Dragonking for it."
"Aye," called a voice that sent shivers down Wayden’s spine. "We should all thank the Dragonking for our blessings, shouldn't we?"
Wayden had almost forgotten about Mole-nose. Wayden recalled the scene in the alley, the mage soul-stealing the acolyte's mist, the acolyte begging for more. Mole-nose was as capable of killing the red-haired women as Rif. Was Wayden standing face to face with the Striker?
Mole-nose sauntered towards them, wearing his tan cloak, filigreed with a silver trim. Even his sandals were of a fine make, and he had a ring on every finger. With so much wealth why did he choose to conduct his business in a back alley?
Mole-nose spat a wad of tobacco onto the cobblestones. "Boys, one of you want a job? It'll pay three coppers."
"No thanks," Wayden said.
Big Darius's eyes lit up. "I'll do it!"
"Know how to read?" Mole-nose asked.
Big Darius's face sank. "No."
"Perfect," Mole-nose said. "Here's a copper and the letter. Take it down to the Coros mansion. You'll get two more coin when you get back. Three if you're quick about it."
Wayden grabbed Big Darius by the arm and whispered in his ear. "Don't."
Big Darius shoved Wayden. "Wraith off, Toast. I'll do what I like, you magic-witch freak."
Mole-nose, with a wry smile slapped a sealed message and the copper into Big Darius’s hand.
The orphanage gate squeaked opened and Rif emerged. 'Wayden. Mistress Night wants a word-"
Rif's voice cut off, as his gaze fell upon Mole-nose.
The short man noticed Rif staring. "Do I know you?"
"Gior…" Rif said, his face paling.
“How did you know that name?” The short man narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"N-n-no one. Nothing. S-s-sorry. I must be-" Rif rushed back through the iron gate.
Mole Nose sauntered off. Wayden ran to catch up to Rif. "What was that all about?"
Rif blushed. "That m-m-man. Gior. He was Arth’s cousin. He studied soul-stealing with Arth, Dakarth, and the Dracon."
"An alley rat studied with the leaders of Helos and Raslo?"
"That alley rat is a d-d-descendant of Raylar, like Arth. Even inherited some of Raylar's tomes." Rif twisted one of his sea-shell beaded braids. "Night wanted you to come quickly."
“It's not meal time."
Rif shrugged. "She wants her st-st-stew, and to talk to you, right away.”
They headed into the main room of the orphanage. Candy Darius and Frog-face Darius were scrubbing the floors.
“Come with me?"
“She wanted to speak to you alone and Crag told me to clean the sleeping quarters p-p-post haste.”
“Well, the sleeping quarters are on the way. I want to ask you something."
Wayden fetched the stew from the cauldron and mixed in the sleeping medicine as per usual when Cook was elsewhere. As they ascended the stairs, he asked, “How did Arth learn how to steal souls?"
"Like Gior, Arth inherited some b-b-books Raylar wrote."
"Kolram told me Raylar experimented with Wraith magic."
"C-c-correct. He discovered new spells, experimenting on r-r-r-wraiths, scagazi, magic-eaters. Whatever creature he could get his hands on. Raylar invented soul-stealing using wraith magic."
They paused on the second floor landing. Wayden glanced around, but no one was nearby. The stew smelled good and Wayden’s mouth watered. He’d received burnt toast for breakfast again.
"And he taught Dracon Niar, Dakarth, and Gior?" Wayden asked.
"Yes, but none of them were very g-g-good at it. Gior was the best of the lot and Dakarth was the worst. Dakarth kicked Gior out, saying he had a smart mouth. As time went on, Arth knew Dakarth and Niar were up to s-s-something. He tried to figure out what, but never did. Arth gave them the wrong information, teaching them soul dispersal, but never soul absorption. The souls never went into Asgaroth or the Dracon, they went everywhere else."
"Asgaroth’s soul went into Jazlyn instead…"
"Wh-wh-what? Are you sure?"
"That’s why I saw Asgaroth’s memories when I Glimpsed her memories."
Night appeared on the staircase. It was the furthest from her room Wayden had ever seen her venture. "There you are Wayden. I've been waiting for you." Night held the door open for them, smiling like a sweet grandmother. "Rif my dear, I need to speak to Wayden alone. You can come sing me my lullaby later."
“Good l-l-luck,” Rif said to Wayden and disappeared into the sleeping quarters.
Anaz’s mobile was in the room, but stuck in the corner, behind the basin.
Night, dressed in a black gown, had her hair up in a bun. She studied the water in the basin. For a moment, her eyes pulsed, turning from gray to black. Mavik's eyes had done that too, on the day he painted the water color of the one-eyed bird with the bloody blue beak. The one that predicted Gar Skymaster’s coming.
Night's wrinkled hands enveloped Wayden's. “Ah, I'm glad you have come. I had a vision of you in the water, freeing my grandmother. It's a juncture.”
"What's a juncture?" Wayden asked.
Night ran a finger through a basin, bringing it out wet, a single drop clinging to her bony fingers. "The future is not wrought in stone, but flows in water. Junctures are turning points, places where the choices become pivotal."
Wayden placed Cook's bread bowl on a table. "I free the Shadow Queen? I thought she was one of the evil Immortals, like Asgaroth."
“Ah, so you do remember something from my lectures.” Kolram said.
Night waved her hand. "Evil, good. Darkness, light. Move beyond such simplistic concepts. Is not darkness necessary for light?” Night stepped over to the stew and pulled a chunk of bread from the side of the trencher. "My grandmother and the Weaver allied with the wraiths. The Immortals wanted power, but the Shadow Queen wanted them to understand the beauty of the wraiths.”
“But what does this have to do with me?”
“I’m afraid I cannot say how you’ll be used at the end of the day.”
That prophecy will never come true, Wayden swore to himself. Whatever else he might do, he would never free the Immortal who had betrayed the Dragonking by siding with the wraiths in the First Dark War.
Night tore a corner of the bread bowl and held it between two time-ravaged fingers as thin and gnarled as driftwood. “The visions are contradictory. I see you in two places on the Night of the Three Moons. And your face isn't burnt in some of the visions. You don’t have a twin-brother, do you?” Night cackled at her own joke, but Wayden felt a surge of hope. Could she be seeing Mavik in the water? Was his brother still alive? Hope burned through his blood.
Night dabbed the bread in the stew and popped it in her mouth. The food was half-chewed as she said, “Itsh confwusing.” Thankfully, she swallowed. “I see you without your burn, freeing my grandmother, and with your burn, in a pit, fighting Gar Skymaster for control of a flaming cat."
"A flaming cat?"
Night stared into her cauldron. Her eyes flashed black for a moment. "Hmmm. Curious."
"What?" Wayden asked.
“Are you familiar with the story of Benol and the Crying Bear?"
"I may have heard it―"
“There was a warlock known as the Glass Mage who was a Beast Tongue and a Glimpser of rare strength. He controlled an enormous grizzly. Every Flame Day, th
e bear wreaked havoc in the towns and country, but always with tears in his eyes. The town’s folk decided to send a Beast Tongue to the cloud castle to stop the grizzly. The old and sickly Grandmaster sent a young Glimpser, Benol to climb to the Glass Castle high in the clouds."
“Benol was a Glimpser and a Beast Tongue just like you, Kolram,” Wayden thought.
“The Glimpse and Beast Tongue are both forms of mental communication,” Kolram replied. “They don't have to go hand in hand, but they sometimes do.”
Night continued, "When Benol went up to the castle, he found the warlock sitting on a huge throne made of mirrors in a glass room. The warlock's face was half flesh, half glass. Benol approached the throne, but his feet became reflections."
"How could his feet—?"
"Benol begged the warlock to stop sending the pillaging bear, but the Glass Mage only laughed, saying, 'It is our rite as Glimpsers to rule the weak. Join me. We can reign over these lesser beings. Simply give up your warmth and become half glass like me.' Benol refused and the warlock had his grizzly chain Benol in a cell."
Wayden rolled his eyes. "How could a bear chain him?"
Night shrugged. "It must have had hands."
"What type of bear has hands?"
Night whirled around, her eyes darkening. "The type that doesn't keep interrupting. Now listen!" Night took a breath and straightened her hair. "Benol fought against the warlock, but the Glass Mage was too strong. He gave Benol three days to change his mind. Chains bound his arms and legs, and he hung upside down, naked, in a cold cell. Rats ran up and down his body, but they didn't bother him. In fact, they used their hands to ease his pain."
"How do rats―"
Night silenced Wayden with a glare. "You don’t know much about stories, do you?"
Wayden narrowed his eyes. "I know they ought to make sense. If you have information, tell it plainly. Don't give me lies about rats with hands."
"Ah, but there are different types of truths, aren't there? There is the truth that rats have claws, and then there is the deeper truth, that sometimes they have a purpose. Take my grandson for one. Not a whisker on him, but even unwittingly, he plays his role. You mustn't ask how, but instead what: what does it mean? How can I use it? You see what I mean.”
“No.”
"Excellent. Then I’ll continue. The grizzly slept outside Benol's cell, but at night the bear wept. Feeling pity for the Grizzly, every night Benol sang it to sleep. The Warlock visited Benol for the third and final time, yet still Benol refused to acquiesce. The Glass Mage ordered the grizzly to eat Benol."
"Why are you telling me this?" Wayden asked.
“Ah, now you are asking the right question. Why indeed. Now try to use your ears boy, or whatever you call the cauliflowers on the side of your head. The bear told Benol he would leap from the clouds rather than eat his true friend. Benol told the beast he did not want him to hurt himself. 'You must eat me,' Benol said. 'He'll make you do it in the end.' The grizzly said, 'There must be some other way.' Benol thought for a moment and said, 'If you joined me perhaps we could overpower him together.' Instead of Benol trying to control the Grizzly, like the Glass Mage did, Benol gave his strength to the animal. The bear was free. When the warlock came back to see what was taking his pet so long, he found the grizzly unchaining Benol."
"What happened next?" Wayden found himself asking. It was a good story. It reminded him a bit of when nanny told him and Mavik stories around the hearth.
"The Glass Mage was angry. He rushed at Benol, who dived aside, and the evil Glimpser broke through the wall of the glass castle. To this day, the people of that town celebrate the Day of the Rain of Glass and when it rains hard people say it is 'raining wizards'."
Wayden groaned. "That was it? That was the end of the story? That is the great truth that is supposed to help me?"
"Sometimes truths don't reveal themselves right away, but emerge slowly over time," Kolram said.
"What does that have to do with me?" Wayden asked Night again.
Night shrugged. "Splashes come and go, but what they mean none can know. Now I'm sleepy. I must rest."
Wayden grumbled to himself as he walked back downstairs. He was tired of Splashers' prophecies. They were too long and said too little. Mavik's watercolors hadn't saved their mother when the Sky Raiders came, and Night's prophecies wouldn't save him now.
Suddenly, a peal of thunder roared across the sky.
“Great, now it’s raining wizards.”