he wasn’t without defenses. Yet better first to wait and see which memory Simon’s spell retrieved, in hopes of gaining insight into Simon’s plan.
Simon sliced a finger and traced another bloody ighantya rune on Kiran’s forehead. But this time, before he cast, he dabbed more blood on a thumb-sized chunk of amber and held it over Kiran’s heart. The amber glowed like a miniature star as Simon spoke and the spell took hold.
Kiran stood tall in his white robe as Lizaveta draped a crimson length of rune-patterned fabric around his neck.
“Today you come of age, akhelysh. Are you ready?”
Kiran nodded, striving to match her solemnity, afraid his voice would betray his excitement if he spoke. He’d been waiting for so long. Mikail had undergone the akhelashva ritual three years ago. Kiran had pleaded for Ruslan to perform the ritual for him as well, but Ruslan had only smiled and told him to be patient.
Now at last the time had come. Ruslan and Mikail had been preparing for days and he hadn’t been allowed to help. He’d asked Mikail a thousand times what the ritual was like, but Mikail always refused to discuss it. He’d shake his head and give Kiran a superior look, saying it was a secret only true akheli might know.
Lizaveta kissed him gently on each cheek, then took his hand and led him to the door of Ruslan’s workroom. There Ruslan stood in full ceremonial robes, marked with the red and black sigils of his magical lineage. Lizaveta put Kiran’s hand in Ruslan’s and stepped back, her face grave but her eyes bright. Ruslan bound another piece of crimson fabric over Kiran’s eyes.
“You go into this room sightless, soundless, voiceless...ready to be reborn,” he said, his voice resonant. Kiran’s senses faded as the spell took effect, his world narrowing to the feeling of Ruslan’s renewed grip on his hand. Ruslan led him forward, and—
Kiran’s mind recoiled, his entire being focused in rejection of the memory. He caught a flashing glimpse of Simon’s intent face, felt the rune burn on his forehead. Simon spoke, harshly. Magic dragged at Kiran, yanking him back down into memory. Instead of fighting the pull, he reinforced it, casting himself down at a speed that rushed him past the akhelashva ritual, further into the past...
Kiran straddled the high stone wall, watching the kittens play on the sunlit flagstones beyond. They were feral cats and would be killed if noticed, but they lived within the walled sanctum of a very old, reclusive factor from Suns-Eye House who didn’t seem to care that his outer courtyards were slowly falling to ruin. The sweeping mosaics patterning the flagstones were sand-dulled and cracked, and spineweed sprouted in the corners. Kiran rarely saw the mother cat, who was skinny and kept to the shadows, but the kittens were bolder. They ventured out onto sunwarmed stone, pouncing on each other and chasing whiptail lizards.
“What are you looking at?”
Kiran turned so quickly he nearly fell off the wall. A girl stood on the walkway below, watching him. She looked about his own age, somewhere in her early teens, her dark hair curling free from a single braid. Her loose shirt and trousers were clean but simple, bound by a brightly patterned sash around her slim waist, and she carried a woven basket with parcels inside. Kiran thought she was likely a servant or a shopkeeper’s daughter, out on errands.
Kiran shrugged, hoping that if he didn’t answer, she’d go away.
“You come here every week. I just want to know what’s so interesting.”
Kiran was startled into speech. “You’ve been following me?”
The girl shrugged, and set her basket down on the paving stones. She eyed the wall, hands on her hips, then grabbed one of the knotted karva vines clinging to the stone. She hauled herself high enough to thrust an imperious brown hand at Kiran. “Help me up.”
Kiran hesitated, then took her hand and pulled. She heaved a trousered leg over the wall and settled, facing him. Wide amber eyes darted from his face to the courtyard. “Oh,” she said, seeing the kittens. She sounded disappointed. “I was hoping it was something really good.”
“Like what?” Kiran asked, curious despite himself.
She sighed, blowing a stray curl of hair out of her face. “I don’t know. A baby dragon, maybe? Something exotic I could tell my family about. Ever since we arrived in Ninavel, they spend all day working on their precious business ledgers, and they hardly even notice me.”
A merchant’s daughter, then, despite