people in common. All immortal, of course. Joan s known her a lot longer than
I have. Though I m not sure if anyone really knows the Shadow, he added with
a wry smile. She always seems so He paused, hunting for the right word.
Lonely? she suggested.
Yes. Lonely. He gazed out across the city and then shook his head sadly and
looked back over his shoulder at Sophie. Do you know how often she has stood
alone against the Dark Elders, how many times she has put herself in terrible
danger to keep this world safe from them?
Even as Sophie started to shake her head, a series of images flashed through
her consciousness, fragments from the Witch s memories:
Scathach, wearing leather and chain mail, standing alone on a bridge, two
blazing swords in her hands, waiting as enormous sluglike monsters gathered
at one end.
Scathach in full armor, standing in the door of a great castle, arms folded
across her chest, her swords stuck into the ground at her feet. Facing her
was an army of huge lizardlike creatures.
Scathach, clad in sealskin and furs, balanced on a shifting ice floe as
creatures that looked as if they had been carved out of the ice itself
surrounded her.
Sophie licked her lips. Why why does she do it?
Because that is
girl and smiled sadly. And because it is all she knows. Now, he said
briskly, rubbing his hands together again, sparks and cinders spiraling up
into the night air. Nicholas wants you to learn the Magic of Fire. Nervous?
he asked.
A little. Have you ever taught anyone else? Sophie asked hesitantly.
Saint-Germain grinned, showing his uneven teeth. No one. You will be my
first student and probably my last.
She felt her stomach flip-flop, and suddenly this didn't seem like such a
good idea anymore. Why would you say that?
Well, the chances of coming across another person whose magical abilities
have been Awakened are very slight, and those of finding someone with as pure
an aura as yours, next to impossible. A silver aura is incredibly rare. Joan
was the last humani to have one, and she was born in 1412. You are very
special indeed, Sophie Newman.
Sophie swallowed hard; she wasn't feeling very special.
Saint-Germain sat down on a simple wooden bench set back against the chimney
breast. Sit here beside me, and I ll tell you what I know.
Sophie sat beside the Comte de Saint-Germain and looked across the roof, out
over the city. Memories that were not hers flickered at the edge of her
consciousness, hinting at a city with a different skyline, a city of low
buildings clustered around a massive fortress, thousands of smoke trails
rising into the night. She deliberately shied away from the thoughts,
realizing she was seeing Paris as the Witch of Endor remembered it, sometime
in the past.
Saint-Germain shifted to look at the girl. Give me your hand, he said
softly. Sophie put her right hand in his, and immediately a feeling of warmth
coursed through her body, wiping out the chill. Let me tell you what my own
teacher taught me about fire. As he was speaking, the count moved his
glowing index finger across the girl s palm, following the lines and ridges
in the flesh, tracing a pattern on her skin. My teacher said that there are
those who will say that the Magic of Air or Water or even Earth is the most
powerful magic of all. They are wrong. The Magic of Fire surpasses all
others.
As he was speaking, the air directly in front of them began to glow, then
shimmer. As if through a heat haze, Sophie watched the smoke twist and dance
with the count s words, creating images, symbols, pictures. She wanted to
reach out and touch them, but she remained still. Then the rooftop faded and
Paris vanished; the only sound she could hear was Saint-Germain s softly
insistent voice, and all she could see were the burning cinders. But as he
spoke, images started to form in the fire.
Fire consumes air. It can heat water to mist and can crack open the earth.
She watched as a volcano spewed molten rock high into the air. Red-black lava
and white-hot cinders rained down on a town of mud and stone .
Fire destroys, but it also creates. A forest needs fire to thrive. Certain
seeds depend on it to germinate.
Flames twisted like leaves and Sophie saw a forest blackened and battered,
the trees scarred with the evidence of a terrible fire. But at the base of
the trees, brilliant green shoots poked through the cinders .
In ages past, fire warmed the humani, allowed them to survive in harsh
climates.
The fire revealed a desolate landscape, rocky and snow-covered, but she could
see that the cave-dotted cliff face was lit up with warm yellow-red flames .
There was a sudden crack and a pencil-thin finger of flame shot up into the
night sky. She craned her neck, following it up, up, up, until it disappeared
amongst the stars.
This is the Magic of Fire.
Sophie nodded. Her skin tingled and she looked down to see tiny yellow-green
flames curl off Saint-Germain s fingers. They flickered across her skin,
coiling around her wrist, feather-soft and cool, leaving faint black traces
on her flesh. I know how important fire is. My mother is an archaeologist,
she said dreamily. She told me once that man didn't begin on the road to
civilization until he started cooking his meat.
Saint-Germain flashed a smile. You have Prometheus and the Witch to thank
for that. They brought fire to the first primitive humani. Cooking made it
easier for mankind to digest the meat they hunted, allowed them to absorb the
nutrients more easily. It kept them warm and safe in their caves, and
Prometheus showed them how to use the same fire to harden their tools and
weapons. The count gripped Sophie s wrist with his hand, holding it as if he
were taking her pulse. Fire has driven every great civilization, from the
ancient world right up to the present day. Without the heat of the sun, this
planet would be nothing more than rock and ice.
As he was speaking, images crackled into existence before Sophie s face
again, formed from smoke drifting off his hands. They hung undulating in the
still air.
A gray-brown planet turning in space, a single moon spinning around it.
There were no white clouds, no blue water, no green continents or golden
deserts. Only gray. And the faintest outlines of land masses cut into the
