“In Kion, we call ourselves Dark asha. ‘Bone witch’ is offensive here just as much as it is in Odalia, but all asha take offense at the term. And Dark asha are not necessarily a prerequisite to fail the oracle’s test, little one. Mistress Simin, who was head of the Valerian before she died and Mother took over, was also a Dark asha.” She smiled kindly at me. “Do not let the prejudices of a few people affect your place in the greater scheme of Kion. In the Willows, all asha are equally respected.”
The oracle lived in a small shrine at the very center of town. It was small compared to the other asha-ka around it but looked more impressive. It had a double-domed roof, and I could see colorless smoke rising out of its top, like wayward clouds drifting back into the sky. A pillar of thin columns stretched across the entrance before large doors built of polished wood.
“I cannot join you inside,” Lady Mykaela said quietly. “It is forbidden for more than one asha to enter at the same time, so Fox and I will wait here until you return.”
“But what do I do?”
“The oracle will ask you for an item. Take the sapphire pin I had given you for this. Answer her honestly, little one. Asha also means ‘truth,’ and truth is the only weapon you need. The oracle sometimes speaks in riddles, but what she says must remain between the two of you.” A small bell hung from one side. The asha rung it three times, the sound loud to my ears in the quiet. “Now go. She is waiting.”
The entranceway led to a narrow passage not unlike the one we had entered the Valerian by, lit only by small torches on the walls. The path seemed to go on forever, and it constantly curved to the right like a snake winding around itself, leading into a large room devoid of furniture or decoration.
The first thing I saw when I stepped into the main chamber were the fires. They rose up from a large brazier at the center, but rather than breathe in soot and ash, I found myself taking in the smell of sandalwood. A small figure dressed in white was seated before it, and the train of her dress spread out around her like a pristine fan. A veil was drawn across her face, so I was unable to see her features, but when she lifted an arm, I saw her hand, smooth and unwrinkled.
“What is your sacrifice?” Her voice was like a mournful chorus that spoke as one, and it echoed across the bare room.
I fumbled at my hair and pulled at the pin I wore, the one made from star sapphires.
“Throw it into the fire.”
I hesitated, shocked. Surely Lady Mykaela didn’t mean to give me something so valuable only to be wasted in this manner? My hand wavered between the expensive blue gems and the less costly amethyst with its odd crescent.
The veiled woman made a swift, impatient gesture.
“Throw it into the fire, child.”
It hurt to see those sapphires lost to the flames. The oracle remained unmoved, staring hard at the center of the fire, so close that I feared sparks would fall on her veil and clothes and burn her.
“Do you truly wish to return home, child?”
A yes hovered at my lips, but I hesitated. Lady Mykaela had told me to answer the oracle’s question honestly. All throughout the journey, I had convinced myself that there was nothing I wanted more than to go back home to Knightscross. But then I recalled the hostility of the villagers, people I had long considered to be friends. In truth, I had thought much like them, but now that I was on the other side of that hate, I refused to go back to that way of thinking.
If I did return, I knew they would still treat me differently, even if I never drew the Dark for the rest of my life.
And then there was another reason.
The woman waited. Countless asha must have entered her sanctum, must have wrestled with the same choices I did.
“No.” The word came out small and disbelieving. “I do not wish to return home.”
“Why?”
I swallowed. “Because I like how the power to wield the magic feels.”
The flames seemed to blaze brighter, as if the fire had heard my answer and approved.
“You will change Ankyo, for the good and also for the bad. You will change Kion. You will change the Eight Kingdoms. Return to me once you have entered a mind from where three heads sprout.” And the woman turned away.
As I left the room, I saw her reach toward the fire. I saw the flames curling toward her outstretched hand, like a child would to his mother or a man would to his wife. And then a heavy gust swept through the room, dousing the fires in one swift motion, plunging the room into darkness. I looked over to where the white figure had stood, but she had disappeared with the wind. I was alone.
“Congratulations, Tea.” Lady Mykaela was smiling as I stepped out of the temple. “I knew you could do it.”
“How did you…?”
“The smoke changed,” Fox said quietly. I turned to look and saw it rising out from the covered dome a light blue color, no longer the colorless wisps I’d seen when I entered. We had attracted a small crowd while I was inside, and people were already coming forward, proffering Lady Mykaela their congratulations. The Dark asha’s face beamed; Fox’s looked less enthusiastic.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught someone staring at me. He was swathed in black from head to toe, the way Drychta women preferred their dress. The eyes were veiled, but I had the impression that they were staring straight at me, and it wasn’t friendly.
I blinked, and the apparition was gone from view.
“Tea? Is something wrong?”
It’s nothing.
“It’s nothing,” I echoed and turned away.
“This is an everflowing, and this is a tamarisk.” She touched first one flower and then another. “This one is colchicum. Amaryllis. Burdock. The language of flowers might seem a frivolous concept to most who live outside of our little part of Ankyo, but it’s an important part of our lives. We asha are always expected to be on our most proper behavior, to never have so much as a hair out of turn. Asha do not cry or scream or make threats. When people cut us, we are expected to do only two things: smile and bleed.”
She busied herself with the bouquet arrangement on the table, taking out a flower at one end, adding a few more in other places. Her finger grazed against the petal of a large pink blossom.
“Our houses are named after flowers for a reason. My house, Valerian, means ‘of an accommodating nature.’ Other asha-ka hold similar meanings. Hawkweed is for quick sightedness. Calla means ‘magnificent beauty.’
“It was only after I learned the language of flowers that I learned how inappropriately my sisters were named. Lilac means ‘the first stirrings of love’—and yet my sister Lilac was a spinster, more comfortable in her own company than in others. Marigold was a happy, bouncy girl, though her name meant ‘despair.’ Rose meant ‘beauty,’ but she was the homeliest of us sisters.
“And as for Daisy—”
The long, slim fingers stilled momentarily against the green leaves.
“There are many different kinds of daisies. A garden daisy means ‘I share in your sentiment.’ A wild daisy means ‘I make no promises.’ A Michaelmas daisy is to be an afterthought. And the common daisy means innocence.
“But Daisy died only a few years after I arrived at Kion.”
Her hands moved again, pale against the vibrant flowers.
“In this regard,” she said softly, “I’d like to believe she was quite common.”
7