“No, not a one of my spells has come back,” she said sadly, rubbing the charm between aged fingers. “I suppose I’m more an herbalist than a mage anymore”
“But I was drained, too,” Dayin offered, “and now I’m back to fine.” He handed the old wizardess a cup of tea and then sat down at her feet.
“Yes, and I think I know why, too,” Karleah rejoined. “Dayin, roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm. I want to look at those scars again.” The boy silently complied, and Karleah stroked his tender skin with her gnarled, bony fingers. She grunted. “These scars are old. Do you remember how you got them?”
Dayin shook his head. “No, I didn’t even know I had them.” He touched his skin and peered at the pale spots. “But what’ve these to do with your spells?” he asked curiously.
Karleah leaned back and looked at the boy. Once you would have asked that with fear and impatience, she thought. It’s good to see that you are becoming more courageous, more self-assured. She leaned forward and ruffled his hair.
“Tell me about your father, Dayin,” Karleah countered. “Tell me all that you remember about his making the abelaat crystals. You thought he died in an explosion, didn’t you?”
“Yeah—at least he disappeared then,” Dayin said with a shrug. The boy’s eyes were distant and blank, as though he were once again viewing the events of the time, but from a safe distance. “There was an explosion, yes, and it ruined our tower. Then my fath—the man disappeared. I searched and waited, but he never showed up.” Again the shrug. “Of course I thought he was dead … and to me he is. When he changed his name to Teryl Auroch, when he became an evil wizard, my father died.” Dayin’s blue eyes gazed squarely at Karleah, and she saw deep hurt lingering behind the blankness there.
Karleah pulled the boy into her thin arms. She gave him a swift hug, then pushed him away. “There’s work to be done, boy,” she said huskily, “and no time for that.” She leaned back in the rocker. “Now. Tell me about the crystals.”
The boy frowned. “That was such a long time ago, Karleah. I’ve told you all I remember,” he said. “Can’t you use that vail-vine charm on me to find out? You know, the one you told me about that makes people tell the truth?” He looked at the wizardess.
Karleah rested her elbows on her knees and put her chin on her cupped palms. She’d made a vail-vine charm hundreds of years ago, back in the days when she constructed magical things. Maybe it was still around. Without a word, Karleah stood and began rifling through the shelves and cabinets that lined the walls of her cabin.
She remembered the amulet because she’d crafted it with such care. She’d arranged three vail-vine leaves, cast them in copper, and then enshrined the leaves inside the pale heart of the original vail-vine mother plant. Over the years, she’d brushed the charm with a mixture concocted of concentrated vail-vine fluid, other powerful truth serums, and substances she’d long since forgotten. The mother vail vine eventually encased the amulet with woody plant growth, and Karleah had all but forgotten about it. Then, one day, she’d come across a strange, tuberous growth on the vine. She removed it, and inside found the charm, now the essence of a vail vine’s power. But the amulet was attained at a cost; the mother vine died.
Karleah snapped her fingers and reached for a round wooden hatbox stored on top of her hutch. She pulled the box down, then hesitated. With trembling fingers she lightly stroked the still-elegant moire satin that lined the outside of the box. The color had faded from a rich plum to a nondescript gray. Karleah muttered to herself, “Stop acting like a doe-eyed fawn. That was years ago. Memories of him can’t hurt you.”
“Who, Karleah?” Dayin asked. He came and stood beside the wizardess as she set the box on the table.
Karleah ignored the boy. She took off the box’s cover. Inside was a tissue-thin, patterned cloth. The wizardess pulled back the material to reveal a round hat of white velvet. Above its tiny brim was wrapped a feather of exquisite azure beauty. A multifaceted diamond graced one side.
Dayin caught his breath in awe. “Is it … magical?” he asked breathlessly.
Karleah snorted. “Not hardly,” she answered crisply, “and that’s what makes it all the more special.” She reverently set the hat aside, then reached into the box and pulled out the remaining item. It was the vail-vine amulet. Karleah eyed its tarnished leaves, its once shiny copper now covered with a dull green patina. The gold chain it hung from had fared better, for it still shone. She smiled and said, “Well, the green’s more appropriate for a vine amulet anyway.”
Dayin squinted in concentration. “What does it do? And what do I do?”
“Nothing,” the old woman said. She placed the chain over the boy’s head and then looked into Dayin’s eyes. “You have a choice, child,” she said slowly. She pointed to the first leaf. “If I stroke this first leaf, you and I together will see what I wish to know. At least I hope so. My charm may not be strong enough.”
Karleah pointed to the middle leaf. “If I touch this leaf, I will discover what I wish to know without your reliving the incident. And the third leaf will reveal information to me of someone nearby—without their knowing.” Karleah paused and looked at the amulet. “At least I think that’s how it went; I’m not sure any more.” She shrugged and said, “Quite a clever piece of work, if I do say so myself. Which will it be, boy? Do you want to remember what I wish to discover, or would you prefer to be untouched by all this?”
The boys eyes grew wide with fear and confusion. “If … if I don’t have to know whats going on, I’d like that, please,” he said, his voice quavering. Then his lips puckered. He said quietly, “I know that’s not very brave of me—
Karleah nodded and cut Dayin off, saying, “All right, child, I understand. Perhaps that’d be for the best. I have my doubts if the charm has any power anyway. Even if it did, it might not even work—I’ve never used it before. Just stand there, and the charm’ll do the rest.” Karleah began to slowly stroke the central verdigris leaf. She looked into Dayin’s eyes and let her mind open up. Channeling her thoughts through the amulet, she gently eased Dayin’s mind open as well.
The old woman had a sneaking suspicion about what had caused Dayin’s scars, and she wasn’t surprised when her charm met resistance in the boy’s blood. Karleah’s wrinkles deepened, and the lines about her mouth puckered into a grimace. Her suspicions were growing stronger, but she wanted proof—absolute proof. She reached farther into Dayin’s psyche, using the amulet to probe more specifically and perhaps bypass the toxin in the boys blood that clouded her scrying.
Karleah stared deeply into Dayin’s blue eyes, unaware that her own black ones almost sank into the folds of her face. The memory she wanted lay there, just beyond her reach. She struggled to grasp it, her mind carefully pushing past the veils of thought. Her eyes locked mercilessly with his, and her finger continued to stroke the center leaf of the charm. With a controlled sigh, she began also to stroke the first leaf. She needed the boys help.
Pain exploded inside Karleah’s mind. Pain from a giant, eight-fanged maw biting into a child’s tender arm. Pain from the searing track of poisonous spittle, coursing through a small body. Karleah stepped backward, unable to bear the agony of the piercing fangs any longer. She dropped heavily into her chair and looked up at the boy.
Dayin’s face was devoid of color, as if his very blood had been drained away. His eyes stared blankly like huge saucers, wide and brimming with pain. Karleah inwardly rebuked herself for forcing the experience on the boy. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dayin spoke up.