The Last Sacrifice II

Kalysut tea was always bitter. Weard and Schafft had tried to add peppermint to it, but the bitterness clung to the tongue like mud to the edges of a cloak. For a while, Weard had consodiered that perhaps it was the aftertaste that created the tea's effects, but he could think of no reasoning for why that should be. How did a taste affect vision?

Maybe the group was right, and the tea itself was magic. Maybe the doubts tickling his thoughts were true, and this was all the tea did.

Weard dismissed his doubts and focused on the moment. He took a deep breath and sipped from the cup again. Almost immediately, the motes grew more prominent. More didn't appear, of that he was sure, but he felt he could differentiate between them a little better.

He started to move them around, prodding the close ones with his fingers. Briefly, he considered the secondary issue of why this mystical fog did not pass through his body when it would pass through walls and furniture. But that was for another time. Tonight was the big trial. Tonight Weard would test another connection he thought he had made.

One of the things that made Weard and the Perkonen think these were related to Mar magic was the way he could collect a bunch of them in one place, creating a kind of mental cage for the motes. Most of the time, Weard focused on the green ones because they moved, sometimes by themselves when he built a cloud. Sometimes he would try a harder color, like red or blue, that he could just get a few motes to hold together. The green ones, however, seemed to know what to do by themselves. Weard had no idea if that meant anything.

Reluctantly, he let his sizable cloud of green go. They swirled away in far less time than it took for him to assemble them.

"It must be magic," he said, blinking and sipping the tea again. He stared at the half-empty cup, then put it down and stood up. "Now, for the experiment."

Aussie's story about the Zedan had given him the idea, and they were the main reason Weard had invited the young mapmaker to the Perkonen meeting that night. But no one in the group had seemed to make the connection that Weard had, not even Aussie. The herbalist felt a little bad he had not told them what his plan was, but he didn't want everyone involved at that moment.

The kalysut sap was the key, Weard was sure, staring down at the bucket of thick, golden sap he had spent the day collecting. Near it, a mixture of sap and water boiled like stormy seas in a pot near the coal bed he and Schafft had made. The herbalist ladled the sweet concoction into another mug, then brewed himself another cup of the kalysut tea.

The problem with the key was that it applied to a person a kind of intoxication similar to spending an evening with the traders who brought their beers and rum to the town. Most Mar steered clear of the potent beverages. If they knew that an even more potent one grew in most of their back yards, Weard thought, things could get messy.

So while Weard felt guilty he had not explained to the Perkonen what he intended, he also felt justified for saving them the small problem of Schafft or Rin being drunk. And then, of course, there was Tharv Haggart, whose purpose at the meeting had led to many questioning glances from Lauf and Yarpelt.

Briefly, he considered the cooper. Weard felt he was correct in thinking Tharv's wife guided the man, and he had no real desire to sabotage their meeting. But the herbalist also thought Tharv wanted to be there. Something in the way he acted implied the man sought a cause to follow. Too bad he wasn't particularly bright and just about everything embarrassed him.

And what the Perkonen had talked about had troubled the cooper. Seeking Marrish's favor? Marrish was supposed to grant it. Hunting down how magic worked, where it was? It was supposed to be a gift from Marrish! The concept ran against hundreds of years of tradition, especially among the placid Oper, who had fallen from the days of blood sacrifices, who had spawned the human-sacrificing Operbut, and who, honestly, had given up on the entire notion that Mar needed magic to survive.

Weard did agreed with the last part in principle. Historically, Esgil had founded the faith in a period when magic from all sides predominated, and the Mar's inability shocked so many it became something of a novelty. Now, hundreds of years later, almost no magic existed in the region, and the Mar had learned much in the way of what could be done without it. Weard didn't think the Mar would recreate the great cities of Kalkorae or spread as far as the Totanbeni without the use of magic. He could, however, see how his everyday life was just fine without the crutch of magic to ease his gardening, harvesting, cleaning and healing practices. His days were full and busy. Having magic, would that make them easier? Or would there just be more time to do more things?

These thoughts, however potent, would not stop him from trying, though. Weard cleared his throat and held up the mug with the kalysut sap in it. The mystical fog swirled through it.

"My guess," he said out loud, so as to help him remember what he was doing better, "well, the theory is based on the Zedan story. Aussie said the Wints used the kalysut tea in their vision quests, and saw the fog of lights like we do. They took a lot, so they saw too much. This could lead to a coma. To heal them, their warriors cut them off from the tribe, which means to a person of the Hundred Tribes, that they could no longer use magic, as everyone knows the Wints are connected by their communal magic."

He took a deep breath and let it out. Were the motes of light separating themselves into their individual colors? "My theory, my guess is that the kalysut sap interferes with the use of magic. It separates a person from the magic, and if the magic is within, it removes the magic from the person. Now, why experiment with the stuff?" He put the mug down next to the one with the tea in it.

"If it is a given that kalysut sap keeps a person from using magic, and if it is a given that the fog around me is something the Mar can use as a conduit for magic, then," and he took a very deep breath as he said it, staring at the two cups in front of him. The room suddenly seemed very dark, despite the lights dancing around him. "Then by drinking the sap, I should no longer see the colors around me."

He shuddered, staring at the beverages before him. One was golden, one was dirty brown. One made brilliant colors swim before his eyes, and seemed to sharpen his thoughts and vision. The other instilled a sense of immortality, but a lack of judgment.

He reached for the gold liquid, and sipped it, his eyes closed.

When I open them, he thought, the motes should be gone.

He opened his eyes to a world of colored fog.

He closed them again, his heart racing. His whole body tingled with the kalysut sap. His mind felt full of fuzz. His mouth had dried up. His hands shook so much he put the mug down and pressed both of them against the table.

"Marrish, let the motes be gone," he whispered. He opened his eyes.

The fog hung over everything.

"Domin," he cursed, with feeling, restraining himself from throwing something.

He had been so sure! He had evidence that the sap prevented the use of magic! He had evidence a conduit was needed! All he needed was the link, and now this swirling, greedy mass of motes was not anything worth working with!

Rage boiled within him, fueled in part by the sap, and his head began to throb. He could hear his heart pounding in his veins. His knuckles were white against the table. His neck and back were stiff and cramped. It was all too much! And Lauf and Rin and the rest of them questioned his approach when he had been so careful, so patient to bring all the evidence to them. Weard did not like to admit he was wrong.

Weard drained the rest of the kalysut tea in one big gulp. He stared at the strong, pulsating mist, flowing like a river southeast. He waved his hand through it, pushing motes out of the way.

"Why won't you listen to me?" he asked them. They did not respond.

He waved his hands futilely a few more times before he realized something else was happening.

They did not respond. Normally, by this time, his general waving would have separated out a few of the green motes, but now nothing happened. His heart beat faster again. Here was a clue, a connection.

Weard focused on a space that seemed to have a bunch of green motes in it. He brought his hands up to trap them, then squinted hard at the lights. His eyes felt like they crossed.

The motes slipped out of his hands.

"Ah ha!" he roared, jumping up and knocking his knees on the table. "I've found it!"

Now, now he had the connection. The motes were the conduit! The kalysut sap did remove that connection, just as it removed a wint from his connection to the tribe.

Weard danced around a bit in his excitement, then stopped and giggled a bit. What if Sophi had walked in on him? What if she had seen her aged father hopping around like a mad child? It was too funny. He laughed out loud.

"But now," he said, suddenly aghast at his fortune. "But now, how do you use that connection? And what do I do until the sap has worn off?"

********

The sun rose, and its rays broke through the motes of real, physical, brown dust coasting through the air in Weard's workroom, and brushed his head where it lay resting on his arms. The body rose and fell slowly, and the dust danced and scattered in the front of his mouth where his breath blew out and sucked in.

Sophi found him thus, with the tea kettle and a cup of cold, bitter tea leaves and a mug of the sweet, thick golden liquid that was the kalysut sap drink. She left her father that way, because she had heard his shout in the night and knew he had been awake all night with this latest, intangible discovery.

She went about the morning chores with a full mind. Briefly, she thanked Seruvus for the memory that let her perform these chores without thinking about them. How often had she had to do everything because her crazy father had been up all night solving a problem or with a patient? She could not remember, but none worried her so much as this one.

I mean, she thought, I'm not even invited to attend. How am I supposed to play independent daughter if I'm not allowed to join in with the old men's discussion?

A small part of her argued, He is trying to protect you. You know what they are doing is against the religion.

Balderdash, she snapped at her conscience. Only a crazy zealot would think that. They don't really believe it. After all, Tharv Haggart and Aussie Logen had never attended the meetings before today, and the group spoke freely in front of them.

After asserting their will toward Marrish, and even then, Weard didn't tell them what he actually intended to do.

She conceded the point, dumped the bucket of water into Schafft's watering trough, and walked back downstairs for another bucket. The water flowed along the trough's complex array of dams and tributaries out over the back garden, spraying a fine mist over everything. She had to admit, it was one of the man's more successful inventions.

Schafft's friends, her friends, and no doubt her father expected her and Schafft to become romantic at some point. Not that either her or Schafft had a lot of friends. But those that she did have, like Tharv's wife's sister, told her they had heard a friend of one of Schafft's friends say there was interest.

She snorted. Of course there was interest. I'm the only woman he knows who will actually have a conversation with him about a subject he cares about. It was a bit endearing, she guessed, that they shared a few of the same interests. But when it came to who would be in charge in the relationship, she didn't think she could nail him down. He was malleable to an extent, but his attention span was shorter than the life expectancy of a mapmaker in the Fens of Reur.

That wasn't fair. He was bright, relatively good looking, and he wouldn't get in the way of the important things a woman had to deal with. That would mean, though, that he would never be there to do anything. His head was always in the clouds.

She dumped the last bucket in and watched the water slosh down the trough. It split, and split again as each dam slowed it down and each tributary diverted it. The rain that fell on the herbs looked almost natural.

Who needs their magic? She thought suddenly, when Mar can make such a marvel?

Magic. Sophi steeled her resolve again. When her father woke up, she would tell him, she would order him, to let her join their cadre. He would never say no again.

"Sophi! I've done it!"

She dropped the bucket and ran down the stairs and inside, screeching to a halt at the sight of her father, his head doused in water, his beard a charred ruin.

"Sophi! Sophi! Oh, my beloved daughter! Today! I did it! And you're the first to share it with me!" he screeched delightedly, grasping her shoulders and kissing her on each cheek before dancing her around.

"What? Father?" She managed to get in, smiling as though his exuberance was contagious.

"Oh, my dear, you must think me a foolish old man," he laughed, giggled, really, and crushed her in a giant, wet bear hug. "Sophi, my beloved daughter, you must sit down, and watch." He looked around, found a tilted over stool, righted it and guided her to it. He didn't give her a chance to object, and in any case, she was too stunned to object.

Magic, she thought, he must have ... It was impossible.

"The gift," she said out loud, her voice shaking. "You found magic."

He grinned ferociously at her and downed what was in a cup near him. The kalysut tea.

"Oh, Marrish," she breathed.

Weard took a deep breath and held very still. Sophi held very still as well, watching her father. He looked so much younger right now, despite his disheveled — burned — appearance. The seconds dragged by in anticipatory silence. Weard's face was tightened up in intense concentration. Sophi held onto her seat, not sure what would happen.

Then, her father's shirt caught on fire.

"Ha ha! Woo hoo!" He cried, and Sophi screamed half in startlement, half in fear, and she leapt off the stool and helped him beat out his shirt, hugging him to stifle the flames between them.

"Did you see that?" he laughed, dancing with her again. "Did you?"

"But ..." She was confused. "What happened?"

"The kalysut sap, you see, that was the key. I was right, I was right! By all the gods, I was right! See, Sophi, sit down, sit down. You see, the sap proved the motes were a magic conduit, a way for the magic to leave me and join our reality, correct? You know we can move them around, but we didn't know why. I mean, I can move around the dust in sunlight, too, you see? But when you drink the sap, you can't control the motes anymore. That proved it! So once I knew that this was the magic, this was the way we did it, it was only a matter of," he paused, clearly thinking of the right words, "letting it out."

She gasped. "You set yourself on fire!"

"Beside the point, beside the point," he said. "I think that's because it was too close to me. But you see, don't you? Magic!"

"You set yourself on fire! If that's what magic does!"

"Oh, that's only the first thing it can do! When mankind discovered fire, he certainly didn't find it waiting for him in a box somewhere, did he? No, he found it at the edge of a burning forest, yes. Something uncontrollable that he controlled."

"You can't show this to anyone," she said slowly, "until you stop setting yourself on fire with it." She smiled. "You showed me first. I would have thought you would have shown Schafft or Lauf."

He smiled. "But, my dear, the harm to you is gone. You can join us now. Marrish has given us the gift of magic."

And he held her to him as she started crying, because she could see the wrongness of his logic. Her father had stolen the gift from Marrish, and would be punished for it.

I will protect you, she thought. I will keep you from harm.

Copyright 2005-2007 Eric Zawadzki and Matthew Schick. All Rights Reserved.
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