The Spirit Gate (7 page)

Damek folded his arms across his narrow chest and lifted his
chin, no doubt certain of her expulsion. “This,” he said, “is
Master Lukasha. He is a Mateu, in case you couldn’t tell. He is also Headmaster of this college.
Excuse me, if you will, Master. This woman has come to see you, and I have
duties to perform elsewhere.”

He bowed respectfully to the Headmaster and made a careful
exit, avoiding both Kassia and his Master.

Lukasha followed the other man’s progress with a raised eyebrow, then turned back
to regard Kassia with inscrutable gaze. “You have raised Damek’s hackles, Kassia Telek.”

“I
know. I’m sorry.
(But
not very sorry.)
I have difficulty with acquiescence. I came to apply for
initiation.”

Lukasha was nodding. “So I heard.”

Torn between excusing herself and pleading her case, Kassia
opened her mouth to do one of those things when she realized that Master
Lukasha had called her by name. Something prompted her to look up into his
eyes. She saw no censure there and it confused her. Again, she opened her mouth
to speak.

The Mateu smiled. “Of
course, I know your name, child. I know more than that about you. I know you
lost three members of your family three years past. I saw you here among the
refugees from the flood. I know your mother was Jasia Antavas and your
great-grandmother was Joasia Dar. I know how they suffered under the Tamalids.
We all suffered, but I think the shai were wounded most deeply. When the
Tamalids ravaged the land, they ravaged the body of Itugen. Her weakened spirit
could not lend magic to her daughters any more than a candle battered by wind
and rain can give light. The shai didn’t
deserve the blame for that, and I’m
sorry they received it. But I am pleased you have finally come to Lorant.”

“You
aren’t angry?”

“Should
I be angry?”

Kassia lifted her chin. “I was selling Itugen’s gifts. I thought I might make enough money to
support my son and myself. It was mercenary. Maybe it was wrong, but—”

“It
was a waste,” Lukasha said gently. “A
waste of your ability.”

Suspended between heaven and earth; she feared what would
happen when he let her drop. “But
you . . . I could tell you wanted to speak to me about it—to chastise me. You
almost did, that one day.”

“Yes,
I almost spoke to you, but not to chastise. I wanted to ask you to come to
Lorant. I could feel the power in you, Kassia Telek. You should be here,
learning the Mateu’s
art, disciplining and nurturing your gifts, giving all devotion to Itugen . . .
and, coincidentally, making enough of a stipend to support your son and
yourself.”

He was laughing at her a little—silently, gently, as a father might laugh at a
favorite daughter. She warmed all the way to the soul. She hadn’t known that warmth
for so very long.

Still smiling, Lukasha circled the writing table, took up
Damek’s abandoned
pen, and opened the great, leather book. He turned past the page labeled
Applicants
,
the page that Damek would have inscribed. On another page, he wrote,
Kassia
Telek of Dalibor, shai, accepted as Initiate this third day of Aprilis in the
year Zelimir 2-4
. Then, setting aside the pen, he said, “Now, Kassia, we will
not begin the new school year until after the Commencement ceremonies. Will you
be ready to begin your schooling here next Matek?”

She nodded slowly, stunned by how swiftly the tide of her
life had changed.

“Your
son is, how old now, five, six?”

“Six.”

“Your
days here will be long and sometimes very hard. Would you like to have him with
you, so you may see him when you’ve
the chance?”

“Yes,
sir. Yes, Master, of course.”

Lukasha’s
smile deepened, his face creasing pleasantly. “Then bring him. I’m sure our kite master will be able to entertain
him . . . or put him to work.”

“Thank
you, Master Lukasha,” Kassia murmured, feeling almost giddy. “I’ll
be back on Matek for my lessons.”

“We
begin at dawn with devotions,” Lukasha told her.

She nodded. “Dawn
then. Again, sir, thank you.” She bowed her head respectfully, then turned to go. In the doorway, she
turned back. “Tell
me, Master Lukasha, what Damek did—the
way he tried to discourage me—”

Master Lukasha uttered a bark of laughter. “Discourage you? He
tried to terrify you. It didn’t
work, I’m pleased
to say. You’ll
need that courage for the work at Lorant.”

“Was
that a test? A test of my will?”

“A
test?” Lukasha shook his head. “No,
no test; that was just Damek.”

Kassia covered her dismay with a smile and returned through
the hall of shadow and glory to the simple sunlight of the courtyard. The kite
master was nowhere in sight, so she couldn’t tell him how she’d fared. As she turned to go home, she realized
that in her bewildered state she had completely forgotten to ask how much of a
stipend an Initiate received. Irritated by her own lack of presence, she returned
to her sister’s
house.

oOo

Lukasha found his scribe in the second floor offices of
his Mateu lord, working off some of his irritation among the collections of
scrolls, books and tablets that charted Master Lukasha’s journeys in the arcane world. The library—a deeply quiet chamber
below the private studio where the Mateu pursued his art—was peaceful and far removed from contact with the
outside world. A world that contained pestiferous Initiates and other
irritants. The library held only books—rare
books, ancient books, many of which only Master Lukasha knew existed.

Damek was alone in the room, hunched over some mouldering
tablet in a throng of sunlit dust motes. The Mateu watched him for a moment
from the shadowed doorway, affection warring with mild exasperation. At last he
stepped into the light and spoke.

“You
are a rude man, Damek Tabori. You might have scared that young woman right off
our mountain.”

Damek twitched and glanced up, disturbing his dust motes.
Like frightened but stubborn gnats, they flitted away from him to settle
elsewhere. “Would
that have been such a loss?”

“You
know it—why do
you ask?”

“She’s shai,” Damek said doggedly; they had had this discussion before.

“If
she weren’t, she’d be destined for
nothing greater than the priesthood, and I wouldn’t have brought her here.”

Damek dislodged the motes yet again. “
Brought
her? Why?” He twisted in his chair to face the Mateu, his thin hair floating in a
light-filled corona about his head. “Master,
why will you not explain this to me? Why must it be such a mystery—your interest in this
woman?”

Lukasha chuckled. “Poor
faithful Damek. I
have
been mysterious of late, haven’t I? I hadn’t meant to be. The
truth is, the mystery was born of uncertainty. I wasn’t sure this young woman, this Kassia Telek, had the
necessary gift. I wasn’t
sure that Itugen once more smiled on her daughters.”

“Why
does that matter?”

Lukasha moved to sit in a skillfully padded and draped chair
across from the table where Damek worked. “Polia has not been a good or safe place these last
decades. Least of all have they been good or safe for the shai. When Arik Tamal
crushed the life out of this land, he virtually destroyed the source the shai
drew upon for their powers. You know what they became.”

Damek nodded, lip curling. “Little better than whores . . .
selling potions and amulets and petty charms any Initiate could have
constructed.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just
as she was doing, Master. She’s
no better—”

“Ah,
but she is. There is depth to her power, Damek. I feel it. Yes, she peddles her
potions and divinations, but her charms are hardly petty. There is power there,
that is a surprise even to her. The channel between Itugen and Her daughters is
clearing. The shai are recovering, even as this ravaged land is recovering . . .
dear God, at long last.” His eyes, which had gone, unfocused, to some point over Damek’s head, snapped to
sudden clarity. “Now,
let me explain to you why this is important to me—to us.”

He rose and moved to the window. Half-closed eyes on the
kites above the rooftops, he formulated his words carefully, measuring how much
to reveal. “You
are not a man of magic, Damek. That is nothing to feel badly about; you have
your own abilities and talents, but it means you are unaware of what has
happened in the realm of secrets during the Tamalid reign. Before Polia was
part of any empire, there was a completeness to the magic bestowed by Mat and
Itugen—a
wholeness. When the Tamalids ruled, that wholeness was shattered.”

“Yet
the Mateu continued,” Damek argued. “Only
the shai were cut off; surely that was a defect on their part.”

Lukasha shook his head. “No defect.
Think
Damek! You have pored
over these books for years—has
none of what you read touched you? The Tamalids scourged the earth, and it was
the Mother of the Earth whose power was withdrawn, cut off. If they had somehow
found the ability to pollute the skies, Mat’s grace would have ceased. As it was . . .” He turned back to face the other man. “As it was, the Mateu suffered as well. Though the
rain continued to fall and the Sun to shine and the breezes to breathe on the
land, those things were out of balance. The rains washed away the newly planted
seeds and took the soil with it; the Sun scorched the earth; the winds
destroyed rather than refreshing. Worst of all, perhaps, any part of what we
did that depended upon the powers of Itugen was gradually lost. Any wisdom that
was solely or most specifically the province of the shai was, likewise, lost.
The Mateu have served the people of Polia from a half-full vessel for close to
a century. Now, do you wonder at my eagerness to bring Kassia Telek to Lorant?
Through her, and others like her, the magic of the Mateu may once again be
whole.”

Damek’s
face was gray. “I’m sorry, Master. I
didn’t realize
how it was. Had I known, I would have welcomed the young woman with open arms.”

Lukasha chuckled at the image that evoked. “Forgive me, Damek, but
I have trouble imagining that. Yet, you might not have chewed on her so
lustily, and you might have called me the moment she set foot in my parlor.”

Damek accepted the mild censure with only slight irritation.
“I was only—”

“Protecting
me from intrusion. Tell me, Damek, how much of what you’ve read in these musty old books have you
understood?”

Damek frowned, puzzled by the sudden change of subject. “Barely half of it. The
equations seem . . . well, they seem to be full of gibberish.”

“Barely
half of it. Well, even I can comprehend no more than two thirds of what I read
there. Those equations are full of Itugen, Damek. Only someone with Her gift
can begin to decipher them.”

Damek nodded, his mouth a tight line. “Kassia Telek.”

“Yes.”

“But
she’s unschooled—completely
uninitiated. You don’t
even know if she can read.”

“She
can read, that much I know. She has taught reading to the village children and
to her own child. Yes, she will soon be both initiated and schooled . . .
by me personally. In fact, I hope to make her my Apprentice before the year is
out.”

“You
gamble much on this girl, Master.”

Lukasha turned his face to the window again, hiding it from
his aide. “Yes,
Damek. I gamble much.

“You’re
what
?”

Blaz Kovar had been unable to conceal his disbelief when
Kassia announced the new course her life was taking. He’d followed that incredulous question with a crack
of laughter. Even after she’d
recounted the entire day in detail, even as Asenka held trembling hands to her
red cheeks and the children’s
eyes grew as round as copper rezes, he disbelieved. His amusement turned to
annoyance in the face of her stubborn assertions of truthfulness, and finally
to anger.

“Your
sister is not only a worthless, accursed shai dreamer,” he told Asenka, “but a liar as well. I
want her out of my house now—this
very night!”

Furious, Kassia packed her things and Beyla’s and walked to Janka’s house to ask for a
place to stay. “For
only a week, no more,” she assured her eldest sister. “I’ll find us a place of
our own then. With an Initiate’s
stipend, I can surely afford one of Ursel Trava’s hovels.”

But Janka, not surprisingly, turned her away. “I told Aska she was a
fool to take you in, but she wouldn’t
believe me. You’ve
caused nothing but strife in Blaz Kovar’s
household. It wouldn’t
surprise me to know you’ve
laid a curse on that house, as surely as you laid one on the house of our
father, as surely as you laid one on your own house. I don’t know what sort of
daydreams you’re
selling, Kassia, but you’ll
not peddle them here, not even for one week. I’ll not have a liar about my children.”

“I’m not lying,” Kassia defended herself wearily. “I am to be initiated at Lorant. Master Lukasha
himself signed my name in the book and accepted me.”

“Now
I know you’re
lying. No Initiate is accepted without testing to determine worthiness. Celka
Tanu’s son applied
at Lorant not three months ago. He barely made it in. There were theological
tests, history tests, a test to see if he had any magic in him. Did they give
you any tests?”

Kassia reached the end of what little patience she had. Yes,
she needed Janka’s
help. Yes, Janka was her sister, but it had always been this way between them—the one goading, the
other reacting in blind anger. So now, Kassia summoned every shred of arrogance
she could muster.

“They
didn’t need to
test me. Master Lukasha, himself, has been watching me. He told me my power was
being wasted in Dalibor. He was going to ask me to come up to Lorant to study
and he made me an Initiate without so much as a question.”