Bearers of the Black Staff

Her grandmother gave her a look. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t learn anything by watching me. You learn by doing it yourself. Wielding the magic, experiencing the power, is how you discover what it means to have command of it. Take the Elfstones. Just hold them for a moment.”


Reluctantly, still promising herself that she would not use them, Phryne took the Stones. “Why didn’t you give them to my mother, if you thought she was the one who should have them? Why did you hold on to them while she was alive?”

“Feel the weight of them?” her grandmother asked, ignoring her. “Much heavier than you would expect. Close your fingers over them and let’s see what happens.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t be afraid. Just do as I ask.”

Reluctantly, Phryne did. They were indeed heavier than she expected, and as she held them she could feel unexpected warmth seeping into her skin. Her eyes found her grandmother’s. “They feel alive,” she whispered.

“They are alive. The magic is a living thing. It lies inanimate until a user summons it, until it finds a kindred spirit. It doesn’t work for anyone who isn’t Elven, and it doesn’t respond to anyone to whom it is not given freely—as I have given it to you.”

Phryne frowned. “But I didn’t accept it.”

“You aren’t the one who matters. See how quickly it warms for you? That means it knows you are right for it.”

“But I don’t want this!” Phryne was incensed. She shoved the Elfstones toward her grandmother. “Take them back!”

“Wait, wait.” Her grandmother’s voice was persuasive, her tone soft and placating. “Let’s finish what we started. It won’t bind you in any way, I promise. It will only demonstrate what I have been telling you. Now, listen to me. Here is what you must do. For the Elfstones to work, you must picture in your mind what it is you seek. You must see it clearly and you must ask the Stones to find it for you. You must will it to happen. Can you do that? Will you try?”

Phryne did not want to try. She wanted to go back three days in time and start over. But she understood, as well, that if she refused now she would have given up any chance of pursuing her argument that the Elfstones belonged in the possession of her father.

So she said, even more reluctant now than before, “I’ll try.”

“Remember what I said, child. Your combined strengths of heart, mind, and body will determine the extent of your control over the magic. It will determine how suited you are to its use. This is your chance to discover the truth of things. Use it well.”

“I understand,” she said, wondering if she did.

“Stretch your hand out in front of you, away from your body. Think of what it is that you wish to find. A person, a place, a creature, anything. Start with something easy. Something you know well enough to see clearly in your mind. You can do much more with these Elfstones than find something with which you are already familiar; you can even find things that you have never seen. But don’t start with something that difficult.”

She reached for Phryne’s hand, folding her own over it. “What will you choose to seek? Tell me.”

Phryne didn’t know. She wanted it to be something that would test what the old woman said, something that was not too close to where they stood, something that could not be found in Arborlon, for instance.

“What about the young man from Glensk Wood that you seem so fond of?” her grandmother suggested suddenly.

Phryne hesitated. “I don’t know. That feels like spying.”

“It might help alleviate your concerns for him. Of course, you could seek out the girl instead.”

“No!” Phryne said quickly. She did not care to know about Prue Liss just yet. “I’ll look for Panterra.”

She stretched out her hand, fingers closing about the Elfstones, arm directed southward, in the direction Pan had gone. She closed her eyes to help with focusing her thoughts, picturing the boy in her mind, seeing his face clearly. She willed the Elfstones to show him to her, to reveal his location. She did not press herself, deciding that if the magic was meant to work, it should come easily. She still did not trust what the magic would do. She still was uncertain about its effects. Her grandmother had said nothing that suggested she was in any danger, but Mistral Belloruus had a habit of keeping things to herself.

“Relax, Phryne,” her grandmother whispered to her.

She did so, loosening her muscles and going inward to where Panterra’s face wafted in the darkness of her thoughts. She floated close to the image, searching for the real thing.