The thought of devouring centuries of sorcerer history excited me. “I should love to read one or two, if I may?”
“We’ll set up a little desk for you by the fire. I’ll have my personal librarian make recommendations.” That was generosity itself. I wanted to hug him, but of course refrained. He motioned for me to follow. On either side of the great bay windows hung a tapestry, and Agrippa bid me to stand before the one on the left. “This is a special creation. It was fashioned by the Speakers in the Dombrey Priory.” I’d heard of it. Dombrey—d’ombre, French for “of shadow”—was one of the great jewels of English sorcery. But I hadn’t known how the Speakers communicated until now.
“They’re weavers?”
“The Speakers drink the juice of the Etheria flower, a night-blooming plant that increases psychic ability. It leaves them in too much of a haze to have a proper conversation, but they see their visions and weave them.”
I took in the details. A great white hand reached into the sky from a tangle of black trees. Tongues of fire bloomed from the tips of the five fingers. In the center of the palm, two lions flanked a shield: Agrippa’s own seal.
“They created this sixteen years ago,” Agrippa said, reaching out and stroking the fabric with two fingertips. “So many of the tapestries the Speakers make seem confusing, and no one had a clue what this one meant. The words, especially, seemed like nonsense.”
“Words?” I looked closer, and, woven along the tapestry’s edges, I could make out:
A girl-child of sorcerer stock rises from the ashes of a life.
You shall glimpse her when Shadow burns in the Fog above a bright city.
You shall know her when Poison drowns beneath the dark Waters of the cliffs.
You shall obey her when Sorrow falls unto the fierce army of the Blooded Man.
She will burn in the heart of a black forest; her fire will light the path.
She is two, the girl and the woman, and one must destroy the other.
For only then may three become one, and triumph reign in England.
I wasn’t too keen on being told I must destroy one part of myself, but seeing Agrippa’s obvious pride, I chose not to mention that. “Even after the Ancients attacked, no one thought of it,” Agrippa said. “But six years ago, on an inspection of the priory, they found the tapestry again. ‘Shadow’ and ‘fog’ are obviously an allusion to Korozoth. ‘Poison beneath dark water’ has to mean Nemneris, the Water Spider. ‘Sorrow falls unto the army of the Blooded Man’—that must mean R’hlem. The tapestry seemed to identify the Ancients, and to give us the key to their demise.”
“I can’t possibly best all the Ancients by myself.”
He laughed. “No, we wouldn’t expect that. It seems obvious, though, that a girl-child, a sorcerer, one presumably with some aptitude for fire, is needed.”
I looked to the other tapestry on the right side of the window. “Is that from the Speakers as well?”
“No, an Agrippa family heirloom.”
This tapestry displayed a hunt for a white stag, with medieval ladies in pointed hats and long-sleeved gowns watching as sorcerers burst into the fray, wielding staves. One fallen sorcerer touched the lips of a young boy who knelt by his side.
I pointed at them. “What’s he doing?”
“It’s a way to share power. Magnus did it yesterday, when he marked you with his blood. He gave you the temporary ability to use his stave, as this man is allowing his human servant to wield magic for a time. Sorcerers in battle would often do that if they were too weak to continue.”
The young boy’s forehead bore the image of a star, presumably drawn in blood. So that was what Magnus had painted on my head. Extraordinary. “Can you teach me how to do something like that?”
“I can and will teach you everything,” Agrippa said, leading me out of the library. “When I’ve finished, you’ll be commended, and all will be well.”
“Then you don’t doubt?” I asked. I couldn’t bear to look at him. “After my failure this morning?”
Agrippa placed his hand on my shoulder. “I wanted you to see the tapestry because I believe you’re destined to help us. That was no failure. It was our first try.”
His kindness was almost overwhelming. “I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done,” I murmured, bowing my head.
“In time, I believe I will say those exact words to you. And I’ll have every cause to mean them.”
The next morning, I was heading toward the training room when Magnus stopped me. “You’re to rest today. Master’s orders. I’ve been instructed to escort you about the town.” He put my arm in his and wheeled me toward the front door.
“I’ve no wish to see the inside of your five favorite taverns,” I said, biting back disappointment at missing a lesson.
“Don’t be absurd. I’ve eight favorite taverns, thank you very much. Besides, Blackwood’s coming along.” He laughed at my pained expression. “My thoughts exactly. You should have heard him grumble. I actually found him in the training room after breakfast, running through his maneuvers. Just for extra practice, he said.”
“I suppose you have plans that Lord Blackwood won’t like at all.”
“On the contrary, I’ve designed an educational outing.” He grinned with excitement but said no more.
—
WE RUMBLED ALONG IN AGRIPPA’S CARRIAGE, Blackwood and Magnus seated opposite me. As we drove, people on the street smiled and bowed to us.
“The carriage has Agrippa’s seal on the door,” Magnus said. He waved through the window. “They love Master Agrippa. They’ll love you as well.”
“Unless I fail.” I was still focused on yesterday’s lesson. “What happens if I don’t receive the queen’s commendation in June?” I asked Blackwood, certain he of all people would answer with honesty.
“You won’t be a sorcerer, Miss Howel.” He stated it matter-of-factly, as if I’d inquired about the weather. “On the rare occasion that an Incumbent cannot complete the assigned maneuvers, his stave is taken from him and he’s removed from the family record in disgrace.”
“So I’d receive the same punishment as someone who’s trained these past two years?” The panic of my botched lesson came thundering back, but I held it inside.
“They need to know you’re the one named in the prophecy. If you’re not what Her Majesty seeks, you won’t be encouraged to develop those abilities,” Blackwood said, his tone effortlessly cool. I doubt she’ll be capable, he’d said to Agrippa. “Most feel that women should not learn magic.”
“Do you?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I support whatever the Order thinks is right,” he said after a moment of careful consideration. How very generous.
“Blacky, much as I adore your conversational contributions, I really think we should focus on enjoying the day,” Magnus said. He knocked Blackwood’s hat off his head for emphasis.
They took me to St. Paul’s Cathedral, at Blackwood’s suggestion. Magnus stifled a groan as we walked up the church steps. We passed along the nave, and I marveled at the marble floors and golden ceilings decorated with angels. Down in the crypt, we visited Christopher Wren’s tomb, surrounded by an iron gate. The grave was topped with a slab of obsidian.
“Wren came from a fine sorcerer family,” Magnus said. “That’s why the obsidian. All sorcerers try to be buried with some piece of it on them.” He whistled, listening to the echo play off the walls. “Nice place for eternal rest, but I prefer Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey. You wouldn’t like it, probably. You’re not one for poets or playwrights, are you, Miss Howel?” Magnus paused before a collection of prayer candles. With a sweep of his stave he lit them. Their glow highlighted his hair and played on his cheekbones. If he wanted me to notice how handsome he was, perhaps he was succeeding.