Looking dissatisfied, but clearly not prepared to fight about it with Luti, Brother Sergil bowed his head. “Yes, Mother.”
After he had left the sunny courtyard, Luti turned to Chandra. “Well?”
Chandra shrugged. “If you’re wondering whether I noticed anything unusual about the scroll when it was in my possession, I can’t really answer that. And I swear by everything that burns, if I ever see that bastard again, I’ll blow him so high into the sky, his ashes won’t fall back down until people have forgotten he was ever born.”
Luti didn’t smile at her pledge. “Guard yourself, Chandra. The fire you kindle for your enemy may burn you more than him.”
“Is that Jaya?”
“No, it is Luti. Listen, the Multiverse is a very big place,” Luti said. “It is probable that you will never run into that mage again. It is better to think about what you can control…”
Chandra’s attention waned as Luti went on. She was grateful for her wisdom, but she could be tedious at times.
“In a battle with another planeswalker, it’s said that Jaya cunningly defeated her opponent by-”
“That stinking rat made me believe he was going to kill Brannon,” Chandra said.
Luti broke off. She knew Chandra had not been listening at all, but she had hoped to penetrate the planeswalker’s obvious disinterest. “As soon to kindle a fire with snow as to quench the fire of rage with words,” she said, more to herself that to Chandra.
“What does that have to do with Brannon or what I said?” asked Chandra, unable to see the relevance of Luti’s words.
Brannon lived at the monastery. His parents, ordinary peasant folk, had sent him here upon realizing they were increasingly unable to cope with the fiery power he had been exercising since early childhood. Because he needed instruction and supervision from people who understood his gift, his family had consigned him to the Keralians’ care several years ago.
Chandra had also been a powerful child with parents who’d felt ill-equipped to deal with her explosive gifts. She felt some kinship with the boy and had become fond of him during her sojourn here.
It had been a terrible shock to see him in the clutches of the other planeswalker. And it had been a relief as much as it was an infuriating surprise to discover that it was merely an illusion.
Chandra was disgusted by the subterfuge of that planeswalker’s ploys. She understood how his tactics were ultimately successful, but she didn’t have to respect them. Chandra was used to dealing with conflict openly.
“Anyway, as many times as I replay the fight in my head, I don’t even know if that jackass also managed to erase any other memories. If I had seen or felt anything special about the scroll, I have no memory of it now.” She shrugged. “I don’t even know what to think about what Brother Sergil said. I wish I remembered the scroll at all.”
“I take it, then, that you don’t even remember where you heard about the scroll? That you have no idea what you thought you were going after in the first place?”
“No.” Chandra asked. “What do you think?”
“I believe what Brother Sergil told us. I believe that it tells of a great power, and I believe that it is old. And despite its supposed age, I’m also inclined to believe that the scroll, if it we are able to interpret it, could lead to the whatever it is.”
“You really think something like this exists? That it can be found?” Chandra asked eagerly.
“Oh, yes. After all, if the text is just some ancient scribe’s fancy, or if the power it speaks of has long since been seized or destroyed…” Luti shrugged. “Then why would the scroll be kept in a place as secure and heavily guarded as you described when you returned? What was it called again? The Sanctum of Stars?”
“Yes.”
“Full of extremely valuable objects?”
“It sure looked that way to me.” Chandra was not a thief by trade, however, so the valuation of objects was hardly familiar to her, particularly in the rush of stealing the scroll.
“It sounds as if they were quite prepared to kill to retrieve the scroll-and, indeed, to tear their own realm apart to find it… Well, their behavior certainly confirms that the scroll is important.” Luti paused. “And whether the previous owners of the scroll employed that planeswalker to come after it, or whether he followed you and retrieved it for his own reasons…”
Chandra said, “I see your point.”
“Sometimes thinking things through logically is beneficial.” Luti’s voice was dry.
“Yes, Mother.”
That night, Chandra dreamed of fire.
Not the fire that exploded from her in the battle with the mind mage. And not the intoxicating heat she drew from the red stones of Mount Keralia.
The fire in her dreams tonight wasn’t the flickering seduction of a new spell. It wasn’t the spine-tingling flame of her growing skill that lapped at the edges of her mind tonight. And it certainly wasn’t the heart-pounding art of boom she loved so much, with its showers of fire and light.
This was the fire of sorrow and grief, the fire of shame and regret. This was the fire that consumed the innocent.
In her sleep, she could hear their screams, as clearly as if it were happening all over again. She could see their writhing bodies. She whimpered as the stench of burning flesh assailed her nostrils. Her throat burned with sobs that wouldn’t come out. She tried to move, but her limbs were immobile. She wanted to scream, but her lips moved without sound.
And when the blade of a sword swept down to her throat, she awoke with a gurgled scream of horror and shot upright, gasping.
She was trapped in smothering darkness. She instinctively threw up her right hand and called forth flame, to ward off danger and illuminate her surroundings.
Squinting against the sudden light of her fire magic, Chandra looked around in confusion.
Then she realized where she was; her bed chamber in Keral Keep. Her heart was pounding. Her skin was slick with sweat. She was shaking. For a moment, she thought she would vomit. Her teeth chattered a little as she focused on breathing.
In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out…
She shook her hand to douse the flames before she wrapped her arms around her knees.
She swallowed. She would not cry. She would not think.
She would not remember.
As she rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself, she started reciting her favorite passages from the Regathan sagas, at first just in her mind, the words flowing through her brain in a rapid tumble.
Then, as she regained some control of herself, she started saying them aloud, and after a while, it worked, as it usually did. Her heart slowed to a normal rhythm. Her hands stopped shaking. Her teeth stopped chattering. Tears stopped threatening to fill her eyes.
But she wouldn’t sleep again. Not tonight.
So she rose from her bed, removed her simple linen shift, and started donning her clothes as if the garments were armor against her dreams.
Chandra put on her leggings and her thigh-high boots. She pulled her calf-length tunic over her head. It was split from hip to hem to allow her free movement. Her clothes were reddish-brown, the material simple. They were the working garments of a woman with too much magical power and too much serious intent to waste time on fripperies and frills. But since it was nighttime and she wasn’t going anywhere, she left off her gauntlets and the leather vest she usually wore. The armor she needed right now was mental, not physical.
Her bed chamber was small and simple, like everyone else’s at the monastery. It had a narrow wooden bed with linen sheets and rough wool blankets, a small table, a single chair, and a modest trunk. And this was all she needed. People at the Keralian Monastery, whether they were visitors or permanent residents, came here in search of wisdom, knowledge, and power, not the creature comforts of material wealth.
The mountain air was cool at night, even at this time of year when the days were especially warm. Chandra welcomed the slight chill on her skin as she stepped out of her chamber, into the night air, and closed the door behind her. She moved quietly along the walkway, passing other chambers without waking anyone, until she
