Sylvester & Tuette: Cursed Doubt

Chapter Eight

Upon securing her swan-shaped home, Tuette departed. Her shawl was pulled tightly against her head, fastened beneath her chin. Her hair was bundled up in a mess underneath but she enjoyed the simplicity of the wrap.


She made sure to pack her rucksack though. Not wanting to find herself in a panicked state again with only a stick and Washing Stone at hand, Tuette insured that her Firedom Expansion Pote was within easy reach. She also packed some Flash Potes which would produce a quick burst of light once air hit the liquid, a Shock Stone that would give a jolting surprise to anyone the Stone didn’t recognize, and a pair of Climber Mitts as she never knew when she would have to scale her way out of a sour situation. She had a few stones prepared for quick Spelling even though she knew that no stone Charmed with only words had much defensive purpose. But it helped to be prepared. And sometimes prepping a stone for the Charm was half the battle anyway.


Tuette trekked the short distance through the forest and met Perryta Fy’tay at the outskirts of Zharinna. Fy’tay was smiling greatly as if she had just seen an old friend after years of absence. “It’s wonderful that you made it on time, Tuette. I hope the rest of your evening was pleasant enough.” She reached her hand up then. “I love the pattern on your shawl….”


Tuette instinctively ducked her head away, not wanting her hood to move under the touch of Fy’tay by any chance; there would be no fortune in revealing her Cursed status at this early stage.


“Um, sorry, I’m just self-conscious about my possessions.” This was a true enough statement but she recalled a more open time in her life, back before she had been put under the Curse of the Hood. She silently damned Corunny Voidet once more before saying “But thank you. It’s a classic design. I picked it up in Gimble Valley, which is a distance east of here, if I’m not mistaken.”


Fy’tay nodded, still smiling. “Yes, Gimble Valley. A predominately non-Magikal area inside northern Javal’ta. Such a shame considering the quality plants there that harness ingredients ripe for Magikal use.”


Tuette could only nod though she knew as much was correct. A particular plant had been the reason she had been in the valley in the first place, regarding one Pote or another. She could not recall the specifics but was thankful that Fy’tay did not think her deceptive. Such a thought was crucial when regarding her hidden condition.


Fy’tay motioned that they begin walking. “I want you to meet some of the local tas. They are eager to meet the woman who crafted such a powerful Freezing Pote, to say the least.” The flattery made Tuette feel warm inside. “And of course, we’ll do our best to help you concoct a new one. Such Magik would be most beneficial for your own Freezers, I’d have to surmise.”


This made Tuette break in thought but not in stride. Is this to be a mutual arrangement of some type? She had saved these people already from a belcarotia and they insisted that she share her secret of the Freezing Pote? It seemed a little strange considering that if she hadn’t even been present she would still possess the Freezing Pote and not even have to worry about the Zharinnans.


But such a thought made her feel guilty. If she learned after the fact that a Magikal community had been destroyed by rogue and Magik means, she would feel considerably disheartened. The Mages and Sorcerers throughout the nation were all of value to the expansion of Magik knowledge. In losing just one district of such Magikals, something key would most likely be lost to the future.


Still, the thought of having to share such a secret as her personally crafted Freezing Pote with a group of already-successful Freezers made her slightly uneasy.


They made their way through narrow avenues that, for the most part, resembled a common township. Tuette didn’t find this unusual as she knew that most communities, even if the majority was comprised of wielders of Magik, liked to insure that no invasive outsiders used the knowledge against them. There were far too many people in Decennia who were anti-Magik compared to those who promoted it. And the mainstream always seemed to be more dangerous.


In a short time, they were in the center of Zharinna, as small as the town turned out to be, and it was there where the local tas held shop. Spying the center, Tuette paused for she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.


Zharinna housed a Talking Tree.


The wooden spire was limbless with bark of a purplish hue. Tuette knew the history behind such famed Trees. In the days before even the Dissociative Wars, the Trees were discovered to have sprouted up in various locales around the continent. Upon touching the odd Trees, a voice was heard inside the head of the person in contact, informing whomever that it was more or less a kind of Wishing Tree. In truth, it was a direct link to Valtos, who listened to people’s constant wishes and hopes and would grant whatever he saw fit. As time wore on, Valtos had apparently grown tired or disgusted – or both – at the petty and grotesque things humans asked for, so he crafted three Lesser Gods, the Wishing Gods, to follow through on the task of curbing where his Magik essence was directed in the effort to effectively keep the Mortals happy.


But the Wishing Gods, being of a depreciated caliber, soon had their granted wishes lead things awry in all of Valent. The very final act granted by the three was the creation of the night dragons. The three were exiled with permanence, supposedly to live forever on Valent, and the Talking Trees were discovered to be inert; the Magik essence of Valtos they funneled was gone.


It was a couple centuries before Magik returned to the land again, only apart from the Talking Trees that so many communities had clustered around, relying on their protective and vindicating natures. It was widely believed that Valtos had been conserving spirits of dead Mages to eventually place on the cusp of Mortal and Immortal Realms. It was thought that those spirits might currently fluctuate Magik through the world, recognizing recitations and rituals as they were performed, fulfilling the desired effects.


The Trees had mostly been lost though, resulting from a purge organized by residents of Bistariaclimata, a mountain-based town in northwestern Decennia, strange as it was since the Trees were deemed useless. It was often conjectured that the purge coincided with the creation of the night dragons though the two had to be largely separate; the dark-scaled dragons were more commonly found in the northeast.


Tuette must have been openly staring at the Tree as Fy’tay grabbed her shoulder, puling her out of her historically-inspire daze. “Are you okay, Tuette?”


Startled, the Cursed woman visibly flinched but recalled almost instantly where she was. “Um… Oh, yes. Yes. The, uh,” she put her hand to her chest, feeling her accelerated heartbeat beneath it, continuing, “the Tree is beautiful. And they’re so, uh, so rare.” Fy’tay nodded in agreement. “Do you know or would you know how it escaped the, uh, the Bis-Bistariaclimation Purge?”


Fy’tay only shrugged before answering. “I don’t know. Zharinna has been here a long time though. Maybe the founders fought off the Purge with proper vehemence. Or it was undiscovered.” Tuette doubted that as at that time, almost all widely-known towns were recognized to be built up around Talking Trees. “I place my mark on the defensive stance as it’s unlikely that a Talking Tree so close to the throne went undiscovered.


Tuette ambled forward, reaching out her hand to touch the cool wood of the towering Tree. With the reach, her sleeve slid back and her arm was exposed to rays of sunlight. She felt a gentle tickling as the hairs curled themselves into miniscule, almost imperceptible, swan-like shapes. Being ever reminded of her Curse, Tuette was just slightly thankful that it somehow differentiated between the various hairs of her body. Arm hairs were affected only on the exposed arm, other more private hairs likewise. It was her head that was more commonly seen as the mass of hair atop was severely noticeable when it took the distinctive shape of a swan.


The Talking Tree had no immediate effects on her and she withdrew her arm, feeling the swan-hairs fall back into place, tiny as they were. She couldn’t explain it but with physically contacting the Tree, she had expected something almost drastic to occur. When nothing had happened, she felt minutely disappointed, even though she knew such a sentiment wasn’t deserving of the Tree. “Let’s keep moving, Tuette. Ta Speebie is anxious to discuss something with you.”


Tuette again felt an apprehensive grasp on her heart as such an obscure phrasing could lead to any line of discussion. Is this Ta Speebie going to discern that I’m Cursed? Is he trying to find out all of what I knew regarding Magik?


The perryta led the way into a small shop constructed of thin walls and a weak roof. Inside, with dim candlelight the only aide for viewing, Tuette saw various glittering stones. Tables lining the walls were covered with scripts and scrolls and preserved hiop leaves with scribbles upon all. Shelves lined the shop and held many trinkets of various sizes. Tuette recognized a map weave roll, dated two hundred years ago, a trio of crudely carved statues, and one more that was so intricately carved that Tuette could only wonder what type of Magik had been culled to instill the perfection.


“That model, dearie, is a Burtle original.”


Tuette frowned as she didn’t understand the reference.


“Burtle,” continued the elderly shopkeeper who had appeared as if out of nowhere, “carves out th’ most perfectly detailed models and statues in all of Decennia. I’m not surprised you don’t know him though; you’re but a ‘prentice.” Tuette would have been a bit more surprised to find Ta Speebie was a woman if she was not so insulted. Idly, she thought to admonish herself for thinking that a ta of such degree be a man. She did not fear men, did she? She knew a subtle fear of Voidet was present but Tuette also knew that his insecurities would ultimately be his downfall. But Tuette could not help be offended as she knew that she possessed knowledge that most apprentices never grasped or had even heard of.


“Fy’tay, my perryta, this is th’ young woman you spoke of?”


Fy’tay nodded, still smiling. “She is. She concocted that Freezing Pote…”


“It’s obvious she stole it. From a more worthy Mage.”


This made Tuette feel angry instead of offended. Do I convey an image of Magik ignorance so much so that someone would disrespect me so sourly? And openly?


“I-I did fashion…”


“Silence unto you, apprentice. Fy’tay, there was rules in my day.” The perryta nodded as if agreeing with the old crone.


“Ta Speebie is our oldest ta, coming from a more, let’s say, regimented form of Magik teaching.”


“Pah!” spat the ta. “Regimented my crumpled right cheek! Rules is rules, Fy’tay! Isn’t doin’ any good if ya don’t put some rules in their minds ‘long with ‘pells and rit’als!” She then rubbed her nose and Fy’tay guided Tuette towards the makeshift counter the ta obviously used to conduct sales of purchase or exchange. Tuette couldn’t recall if she had ever encountered a ta that sold items of Magik interest. She also deftly realized that she had been purposefully avoiding tas for the last four years so she kept her observation to herself.


“Speebie, Tuette here is only an apprentice by force. Her teacher died years ago and she has had no other to replace him.”


Ta Speebie sent a peering eye Tuette’s way, as if attempting to find the hole in the story. Tuette feared the old crone just might; Magik made many things possible, she knew. Even the perception of truth.


Apparently satisfied, Speebie refocused more on the trinkets of her countertop. Tuette looked them over, not recognizing any of their uses, and looked towards Fy’tay again for help in progressing whatever was to happen here. The perryta took the hint.


“You said you wanted to see Tuette, Speebie,” she said with a fluttered clip in her voice.


Ta Speebie licked her lips, causing the wrinkles around her mouth to ripple accordingly. “Yes. The apprentice claims she is a mere apprentice who possesses much knowledge over Magik. And the like.” Speebie then looked to Fy’tay and then into Tuette’s eyes, causing Tuette to catch her breath. “But what does she know of… Curses?”


Her first instinct was to flee. Her second was to purge her stomach of the weak breakfast she had consumed. She followed through on her third impulse though, which was the truth whenever possible. Even if it was an altered version. “I know only what my former master taught me. Which was very little. About Curses.” She hoped the lie would not be betrayed by her voice. “He told me that Curses can only be cast by the Cursed, that they usually involve a Reverse of some kind, and shouldn’t be dealt with lightly.” She hoped that was enough to satisfy the elderly woman.


“Pah!” the ta coughed out. “Everyone knows that much ‘bout Curses, dearie! But you know more! You cast it all!”


Tuette’s heart began to beat a little faster then, rushing crimson life through her temples.


Fy’tay set her hand on Tuette’s shoulder again, this time with no flinch: with no threat of sunlight, there was no threat behind her shawl being moved. “Ta Speebelia Ridentrog, you stop. There’s no way she could’ve cast such a large-scale Curse as the one you’ve detected. Especially since last night, I spied on most of her accounts and, other than sleeping and doing some late night housework, there was no unusual activity.”


This revelation made Tuette feel a further sense of unease. She was being watched? By a perryta, nonetheless! But the doornail, Charmed as it was....


Tuette knew the most likely answer was that Fy’tay has used a deviously placed Re-Seeing Stone. The perryta was very resourceful, as her title required. I’ll have to maintain caution, even when I’m alone, while near these Zharinnans. She tightened her grip on her sack’s strap, strung over her shoulder as it was.


What Curse was Fy’tay talking about? She asked.


“Ta Speebie here is talking about someone initiating a Curse against the kingdom as a whole.”


“But I didn’t cast it,” she said and her brain swayed at the idea. A nationwide Curse? “What’s the characteristic of the Curse?”


Ta Speebie shook her head, chewing on her lower lip in the process. “No tellin’. Doesn’t look familiar. Which mean it’s a new Curse. Crafted by someone.” Dread filled Tuette’s heart then. Before recently, Curses couldn’t be easily created. They were the same Curses that had been created in the times of the Wishing Gods. All in all, there were a couple dozen of them carrying different degrees of Potency. Her personal favorite, the one she coaxed from Voidet, was the Curse of Truth. She relished the idea of making people, for once in their lives, tell the truth. And obviously, because of her status, she could cast it whenever she pleased. Unless a Block was in place, but not many people knew of Curse Blocks.


The self-imposed irony over such knowledge and preference regarding the Curse of Truth was not lost on the sorceress who always had to lie about being Cursed herself.


But new Curses were definitely something to take note of. And Tuette knew the only person in the entire kingdom who could fathom such a malicious attack. For yet another time, she silently swore against her former teacher.


“His name’s Roost. Count Roost. Down in th’ Seagulf Islands,” Speebie said, and Tuette blinked the bewilderment away.


“Count Roost?” Speebie nodded. “Who’s that?”


The ta looked balefully at Tuette. “Didn’t I jus’ state I didn’t know who he was? Some guy in th’ south lookin’ to cause problems is all I could guess, miss ‘prentice.”


“Well, shouldn’t we do something?”


Speebie rolled her eyes and let out a theatric sigh laced with tension. “Listen, ‘prentice, a Curse that’s meant t’ ‘compass an entire kingdom will take several days ‘fore it finally comes t’ fruition. Wif our methods of travel, we’ll be able t’ send someone down t’ th’ Islands in time to stop this rogue. An’ if we don’ get there in time, we can always Reverse it, one way,” the ta pulled her thumb across her throat maliciously, sticking out her tongue and saying “or the other.” She then spit and cackled a little. Tuette feared that the vibrations would knock one of her eyeballs loose as they didn’t look entirely stable inside her withered head.


What unsettled the sorceress more though was the idea that there was someone in addition to Corunny Voidet who could literally build new Curses. It should have been near impossible, but Voidet had his hands on some bound scripts: a collection of parchments that contained sequences of Magik that ought to have been otherwise forgotten. As if he had found the Lost Tomes of Ancient Magik.


Voidet’s collection couldn’t be the Lost Tomes though because his parchments were relatively new in age, from what Tuette had been able to deduce. In the years she had been Voidet’s apprentice, she had glimpsed the large tome a couple of times. It only caught her eye because it was rare for people to collect their scripts in one pile: some tended to be physically Potent due to the words upon them and could cause harm to the collection as a whole; oppel ink was known to be somewhat dangerous when contained.


So has Voidet lost his own tome to this Roost fellow? Or, somehow, another collection of scripts was discovered? In the four years that Tuette had been traveling, collecting knowledge of Magik as best she could while maintaining seclusion, had Voidet met an untimely demise, making her present stories somewhat true? No, that could not be it: her Curse was still in place. If and when Voidet died, and if Tuette didn’t perform the Reverse, the Curse of the Hood would be lifted as that was always the ultimate Curse Reverse.


Unless it was a preconception Curse. But that wasn’t the case with Tuette.


Perhaps someone had incapacitated Voidet and stole his collection? That seemed possible though how someone had managed to enact such a deed, she could not guess: he was a very protective person, enabling preventative measures of Magik to insure his life was ever extended.


Ta Speebie’s attitude about the situation seemed a little callous for Tuette’s taste. Did she not think the Curse authentic? How had she known about it in the first place? What would represent an entire kingdom when casting a Curse on a whole kingdom anyway? For humans, a small piece from their person was all that was required: usually a few strands of hair. That piece infused by a Spell with a similar piece from the caster is what makes the caster able to share the status of being Cursed. For non-Cursed individuals of Magik, different measures are taken to set up a Block as the only thing that could stop a person from being truly Cursed was to already be Cursed. As the Block creates a masque of the Curse status, Magik does not allow such an invasive practice. Some Blocks were engineered to inform the protected when someone has just attempted to cast a Curse on them and some of those could trace the ritual back to who attempted it. This had to be the case with the elder ta. The perryta should have also been Blocked but then again, even the masque could scare some Magikals. This was becoming a sensitively seeded ground to tread upon regarding the issues of known Magik.


“How do we know that this Roost guy cast this unknown Curse?” Tuette asked with apprehension tied into her voice.


“Well, first off,” began Ta Speebie, “my Curse Block – you know what that is, dearie? – well, it told me that someone had jus’ ‘tempted to Curse me, sometime las’ night. So I aimed to find out who. My Block don’t tell me that-t. I took that there map weave,” she pointed to the two hundred year-old roll on the shelf, “and covered it with some of my precious fig fur that I keep in storage.” Her eyes glassed over then as she stared into empty space as if in remembrance. “I sure miss my little Setteena. The rough-muzzled bastard.”


Tuette wasn’t sure how to accept the digression but it was somewhat obvious that Setteena had been the ta’s fig from weeks, months, or even years ago. Fig fur kept for a long time and was a common enough ingredient in Seeker Spells, mainly because figs were one of the more useful canines when it came to finding things. Tuette herself had not performed any such Spell before or even seen one cast but had read about them years ago.


Ta Speebie continued. “It was sprinkled so fine. So, with my weave sprinkled up, I said th’ right words, o’ course, and th’ furs that began to glow were th’ ones covering Boost in th’ Seagulf Islands, down south.” Fy’tay reached for the weave roll as she was standing very close to it and she set it on a clear patch of the counter, undoing it a little.


The weave was of Decennia from two hundred years ago, yes, but the land masses were relatively the same or similar. The Fortright Isles seemed to be missing a few – or had gained a few in the last couple centuries – and Uv-Hren and Jint were not even represented. But the Seagulf Islands were clearly on the bottom portion of the map. When looked at from this height, the Islands, nine in total, formed a general seagull shape with one arm of islands arcing away, resembling an extended wing that formed the gulf which comprised the name. Tuette was not familiar with the Islands but there was one labeled Boost that had a faintly singed quality about it. She guessed that the fig fur had begun to burn through the fabric.


When Tuette rubbed her index finger against the burn, she looked up and Ta Speebie seemed abashed. “I had asked th’ furs to show th’ caster in relation to th’ spell. Since it’s so ‘compassing, th’ furs burned hot there. Now ma map is marred up.”


“But the Curse originated from there, in the Seagulf Islands? How do you know it’s this count? It could be anyone, really.”


The ta shook her head and Fy’tay spoke up then. “No, it couldn’t have been anyone, just someone Cursed. And the only person in power down in Boost is this Count Roost. He’s said to be a handsome tyrant, well muscled, eyes baby blue, and a wicked personality; Cursing servants who do not please him; Cursing citizens who rebel against him. It’s caused a ruckus, to say th’ least. Even the king’s makin’ a journey down there to stop the crackin’ count.”


“How do you know that much?”


“Because the king is headed for Zharinna first, right now, by splintback and will arrive in the evening.” Tuette felt her eyes roll at the mention of the monarch. These people had known the whole time that the king was coming, whoever he was, and that he was personally moving to stop the Curse against his kingdom. It seemed like a foolish publicity stunt, especially if the king would just end up Cursed for his troubles.


She then wondered if the king could call under a Curse. He – his bloodline anyway – had been selected by Magik centuries ago, in a time when the nation needed a strong leader. Did that Magik protect the line from Magikal woe? Or if not, did the maturation time between the casting and when the Curse finally took effect disallow him from being Cursed, along with everyone else in the kingdom? Tuette’s heart leaped a little at the notion as a kingdom filled with Cursed people would make her feel that much more secure about her own stance. She’d never heard of a Curse taking so long to mature though so the issue was largely unexplored. The encompassing physical area of the Curse is what obviously called for the considerable length of time that was to pass.


Her thoughts paused then when she realized that they had both already known the origins of the nationwide Curse.


So why had they subtly presumed to think she had done it?


She looked into the ta’s eyes, knowing the realization of the situation was resting inside her own. The smile from Ta Speebie confirmed the likelihood of the knowledge they had just garnered. Tuette was determined to hold onto her story though and act if necessary. Reflexively, she moved her tightened grip down the strap, towards the haven of her satchel.


“Don’t, dearie.” She started to reach into her bag, hoping that maybe she would grab the Firedom Expansion Pote or one of the Flash Potes and enable a quick escape. The time it would take to get back to the swan would be short since she had been taken straight through the town…


But Fy’tay was quicker. She grabbed Tuette’s wrists with deft ease and put them against the counter. Tuette struggled, fear coursing through her veins. Were they to offer her up to the king? Was he seeking a concubine or a producer of heirs? Or did they want to make a public example of what end Cursed people could meet? What was the design?


Ta Speebie said audibly “Yes, we know you’re Cursed. You confirmed it for us.”


Tuette felt anguish then and unease over being confined. It had been four years and she had fallen in with fewer and fewer Magikals for just this reason: they were too crafty and quicker still to work against their own in the name of a Curse.


“Tuette, calm yourself! We don’t want to hurt you. We need you!” The perryta’s comment made Tuette suspend with wonder. What would they ever need her for?


She did as instructed, slackening her arms. The idea formulated to jerk down with the slack, possibly breaking free, grabbing whatever Pote she could and smashing it upon the counter. The old ta wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough.


“Tuette, please.” Fy’tay looked strained in the face as if she felt anguish over what she was doing. “Your wordlessness betrays your thoughts. You have no chance to escape these.” The perryta then held up her right hand, keeping Tuette’s own down with only the left. What she wore on the raised hand’s palm was some type of skeletal working. “It’s a modified Mighty Grip, stripped down to the core so I could hide it from you.”


Tuette had heard of Mighty Grips before. They were usually gauntlet-like in size and manner and enabled the wearer considerable strength inside their hands while exerting almost no force through the gauntlets. Minimal force was also felt but heavy resistance produced a heavier holding force. Tuette knew these modified ones, fashioned only to trace the palms, had to be powerful still because she had thought it was a moderate strength that Fy’tay possessed. That or Tuette was weaker than she knew. She wasn’t sure of which but she was sure that as long as the perryta wore the Grips, she was her prisoner.


The only thought of relief she ensnared was the fact that these Magikals were not Koso. The Grips brought the notion to mind though, except those people didn’t need direct contact to exert their physical will…


“Tuette, remain focused. You still have to meet with Ta Bep’toj for the sake of the Freezing Pote. We need to have it prepared for when the king is ready to depart. There are only nine days until the Curse transpires. And we still only have a general notion of where to begin in conducting the proper Reverse.”


She could barely maintain her concentration though. What’s my Freezing Pote have to do with the Curse and the king? He’s really coming to start a journey for stopping this rogue count? What does any of this matter to me? Since she was Cursed, she knew she didn’t need to worry about the rest of the kingdom. I’m naturally – or unnaturally – immune!


Perryta Fy’tay grabbed Tuette’s wrists and subtly dragged her along. Tuette kind of felt like crying a little bit; she still didn’t totally understand the reasoning for this path of deception on which she was forced to travel. To let these captors see her expression of fear and disdain would’ve been no good. So she kept her tears to herself.


They stopped before exiting. “Tuette, I’m going to have to let go of you but you will walk where I tell you to. I don’t want to make a scene for my citizens.” She released her grip and looked Tuette straight in the eye. “But I will make one if necessary. Do not attempt anything, Tuette. It’s very important.” She gestured toward the door then.


Ta Speebie called after them both as they exited. “Hope she’s all she’s cracked up to be. Ha!”





*          ~          *          ~          *








In contrast to the other tas that located their residences around the Talking Tree, Ta Bep’toj lived closer to the northern edge of the forest, where the lake – or more appropriately, the lek – met with the plains. Tuette had not noticed it the previous day because his shed and equipment had been erected just at the lip of the forest. It made sense though as the northern side seemed to own a wide and managed path that went from the town to the Freezing Clan station to Mount Reign straightaway. It would most likely be this road that the king would be arriving on later in the day. It also made sense to have the Freezing Clansman setup close to the body of water that was dealt with on a daily basis.


The roadway was well kempt, which told Tuette it had to have been apart from the Nementor Paths; those were beyond manageable hope. The forest that she had tramped through on the previous day was mostly on the right side of the wide path. It angled away at points, usually around boulders that seemed out of place. Tuette thought to knock Fy’tay down and reach into her sack for the Shock…


The perryta gripped Tuette’s forearm before it could dip into the rucksack. “I told you no tricks, sorceress. I’m well versed in our ways. And I’m not a perryta because of my looks. I’ve been studying and working with Magik for decades.” She flexed the grip before releasing it, adding, “Just cooperate.”


Tuette was a little miffed about the situation. Usually, when she was in danger, she would get into her swan-home and leave. But that was on the other side of the forest. She swore at herself silently for being so gullible about these Zharinnans. As they traveled through the town, no one gave them stray glances despite Fy’tay’s title. They obviously knew not to sway her from whatever her goal was concerning Ta Bep’toj.


On the north side outskirts of Zharinna, the town seemed deserted. Tuette inquired where everybody was. “Most of the Freezers live on the north side of town, where it’s easier to access the lek. Bep’toj is the only one who lives right on the lek. He takes his work seriously and the location helps him keep an eye on his apprentices. He doesn’t want them to learn so much about the trade so that they could just break off and start their own.”


Tuette didn’t understand as she had never delved into the profession of Freezing before. When Tuette was younger, she remembered ice blocks being delivered, installed, and the Clansmen left. No one asked questions because it was a common enough practice. And since the Curse, she was naturally wary of Magikals.


This thought process made her wonder why she had not been as cautious with these Magikals. They had turned out to be the worst she had encountered so far. Normal people could be easily avoided with Magik help. But Magikals were known to be ruthless and she stayed on guard usually. But these had gotten through her defenses with relative ease. How?


She realized the how as the pair continued their on-foot hike on the road, swinging away from the forest as a great stone jutted from the ground, or perhaps had fallen from a great height into the ground. But what she grasped concerning her caution was that these Magikals had seemed overly genuine. She had saved them from a belcarotia and they expressed gratitude and were open and honest about everything.


That should’ve been my first clue. They told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Needed to hear. She recalled Fy’tay’s compliments of Magik knowledge; how they had made her feel as if she were a friend who had found her way home. Even Ta Speebie with her cantankerous attitude played the part of a disapproving matriarch. Tuette felt like a damn fool.


“Was that belcarotia really a threat?” she asked, knowing the answer.


“It most certainly was. And those three Mages were truly rebellious against Zharinna as a whole. They wanted to destroy us and had waited for the perfect time to do so: when our Freezers were away.”


Tuette let thoughts pass through her mind then that revolved mostly around Fy’tay personally manipulating a situation where the three Mages had become as distraught and angry as they were with just the right knowledge to use against Zharinna. It was a dangerous game, for sure. What if I hadn’t been there at all?


Was there really much of a risk? Did Fy’tay have a Seer in her retinue of tas? She decided to hold that question for later as they angled around an even larger boulder and were facing east after they came around the bend. The shed was seen on this side of the tree line, still a distance away but Tuette could also see her home on the edge of the lek. The sight of her usual salvation sent a spike of hope through her heart. But people seemed to be patrolling it and that discovery made her uneasy. The home had served her faithfully for years and now these people were holding it hostage.


Fy’tay spoke, her voice as flighty as ever, her smile seemingly strained. “They’ve not entered your home, of that I can assure you.” Tuette still felt ruffled but a slight relief was gained knowing that her possessions were untouched. Supposedly. “I hate to do this to another sorceress, Tuette. Especially one as knowledgeable as you. But this Roost fellow has caused a problem and we need your help. It’s essential that the king survive his quest.”


Tuette decided that a conversation might depreciate the perryta’s awareness and allow the Cursed apprentice a chance to escape. She still owned the Firedom Pote and she could easily Charm one of her prepped stones to become a Melt and Stay Stone, a Go Stone, or possibly an Explode Stone. But she would have to harvest a recitation from her memories, a task of great difficulty as there were several to mentally weed through.


“Why is he even embarking on it at all? Why not send a lackey?”


“Because we believe that Roost is after more than just dominance over the kingdom. He wants something from the king personally.”


“How can you know this, Fy’tay?” The phrase for Charming an Explode Stone was forming in her brain. Separate with speed so quick, enforce your will in my grip? No, that’s not it.


“We have sources all over the kingdom, Tuette.” She glanced at Tuette then and then looked forward again. “And don’t bother with any of your prepped Stones either. They passed a Disarming Field back at Speebie’s. They’re just rocks now.”


Tuette blew out an angry sigh then. Had she been moving her lips while attempting to remember the phrase? She thought she was being careful. It was useless though, as the perryta had said: her preps were rocks now. Probably her Shock Stone too. The two Potes she carried though, having left the rest hidden in her home, would not have been disarmed; the glass vials would have protected the liquids from the Field. She felt her shoulders slump slightly in defeat though. It seemed wholly hopeless.


“And even if you did escape, those Mages around your home have Life Spell eggs Charmed and ready. By the time you might reach it, it’d be in the air and gone. Though we feel wrong about entering your private sanctuary, we have no problem with sending it away. Now don’t tarry. Bep’toj has assembled his fellow Freezers and they’re all ready to contribute in fashioning a new Freezing Pote.”


Something ticked inside Tuette’s mind. “How do I know this is genuine, om Yett? How do I know that there is such a threat and you and your Clan aren’t trying to pressure me into sharing my own Pote with you? I imagine such a powerful Pote would put your Freezers ahead of the game.”


Fy’tay stopped and turned about. Was she angry, that Tuette had used her family’s name and Tuette had none that could be fashioned into leverage?


Her cheeks were flushed and she looked angry which contrasted with the curly hairs that framed her soft face. She looked as if she was about to spit on Tuette. Instead, her arms went limp, dangling at her sides, and the perryta lifted her hands to her face, whispering into her wrists. The Grips unlatched from her palms and fell into the woman’s sleeves. She dropped her arms in defeat and the Grips fell to the ground, soundless. “Well I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured into it, madam. And there’s no way I can convince you. But I guess your participation requires more trust than I assume you might possess. All I can say is that this situation is real. The Curse is real. Count Roost wants to do something terrible and our king, foolish as it might seem, wants to personally stand up to the situation. He wants to handle it with whatever help he can. He has everyone’s interest at heart.”


“It sounds like he has his public perception at heart.”


Fy’tay laughed; it was terse. She then turned and continued towards the small shed at the edge of the forest. “Fine. Fantastic. If that’s the only way you want to see it, Tuette,  then that’s it. The king will Freeze a flock of chickens some other way. I hope Ta Bep’toj has culled an alternative.”


Her mind felt loosened at the comment; she felt her breath catch. A flock of chickens? “What?” she all but shouted after Fy’tay. The perryta turned, her face looking rougher, her eyes red around the edges. If Tuette had been reintroduced after months of absence, she imagined she wouldn’t recognize the woman from how she had appeared only a day before. But the flock of chickens that she said were to be Frozen….


It couldn’t have been Voidet because the physical description was wrong. But what Fy’tay could only be talking about was the Curse Reverse that had been enacted to stop Count Roost’s Potentially-lethal Curse, whatever it was. And they needed her Freezing Pote because it was a definite solution to the problem.


It’s also the same Reverse that I need to perform.


But it could not be Voidet. Which meant that her former teacher had been robbed of his precious collection of scripts and now some megalomaniac with a mission was looking to use the man’s Curses and Spells to take the kingdom hostage.


Tuette had been unable to perform the required Reverse because chickens were extremely rare creatures. In the past, their species had been harvested for dietary purposes – people used to believe that eating enough chicken meat enabled flight – and as a result, they had almost become extinct. It also didn’t help that so many Spells and Charms, like the Life Spell that Tuette so often employed, called for the use of eggs. Chicken eggs were supposed to be the most Potent eggs for Charming but snake eggs were what Tuette had to use most often. As a result, her Spell usually only worked near or during night, dissipating by dawn. Other eggs of the avian variety allowed for more convenient times but she knew that if she used chicken eggs, she would be able to travel more consistently; they were the best in that the Magik invoked through them lasted the longest.


But if the king had information as to where a flock of chickens could be found and she was going to get her Freezing Pote reformulated by a group of well-practiced Freezers, then she was that much closer to bringing about the end of her own Curse!


While these thoughts processed, Fy’tay had picked up her modified Mighty Grips and pocketed them. She was looking at Tuette now, still appearing upset over Tuette’s words or actions or both. “What, Tuette? Did you have a question about our predicament? I mean, I know that since you’re already Cursed, you don’t have to care about whatever this Roost tyrant is going to do but the rest of us aren’t lucky enough to have Blocks or already be Cursed. So we do what we can because I can only imagine what is in store.” She sniffed once, heavily. “So do whatever you like. We’ll do what we can with what we…”


“I’ll do it,” she said, surprising even herself. But this was a step towards solving her problem; towards ending her Curse and finally getting on with her life. She tightened her hood before continuing. “I’ll help as best I can. But the Freezing Pote is going to take a lot more people than a Freezing Clan to concoct in time.”


Perryta Fy’tay smiled then, sniffling once. “Oh, don’t worry. We have many that are willing to work for the cause.”


Tuette eventually came to discover that the perryta wasn’t lying about that much. They approached the shed, which was small. They knocked and a gruff looking man exited bodily as if he was unsure of how much weight or muscle he might possess.


“Ta Bep’toj, this is Apprentice Tuette.”


Characteristically, she expected a cold person in the previously-unknown ta, denoting the profession, stereotypical as the presumption was. Realistically, that was what she got. Ta Bep’toj didn’t possess a warm personality. “This the woman?” he said with a brusqueness that alarmed Tuette. She almost stepped back because he possessed what she came to know as “crazy eyes”: they seemed to be trying to look everywhere at once.


“Yes, this is her.” Fy’tay looked around. “Where are your Freezers?”


He stepped past the females and stood at the edge of the lek. There was no sand at this perimeter but a smooth bank of grass and dirt that terminated with a very short drop into the water. Tuette wondered if it was safe to stand upon. It must have been since Bep’toj now stood there, looking across the lek.


The burly ta scanned the surface of the water, his black, curled locks brushing subtly against his shoulders. He whistled once then, loudly, and it echoed across the water.


Rather, it had appeared to echo stereophonically but once he stopped, Tuette heard that several more were being sent back to him from many points. Then figures appeared to stand up on the surface of the lek in small groups. There were at least twenty or twenty-five people at initial glance. Tuette had never seen anything like it before. They then began to glide towards the sandy bank that had been shadowed by the forest.


Once they found shore, Tuette saw the explanation for the display. The boats they had been inside were charmed somehow with Chameleon Silk. “It’s not Silk, but the diluted Blood of chameleons splashed on the surface of the skiffs. The Freezers need to see beneath the boat and this is the most practical way. They’ve tried fastening Reseeing Stones beneath the boats but then no light came through and the Glow Globes we have don’t work underwater.”


Tuette frowned. “Are there any chameleons left in this area?”


Fy’tay released an apprehensive smile. “They have become scarce but these skiffs have lasted for a long time. They are maintained very well.” She had really been expressing concern about the upkeep of the boats but she let the thought flitter away.


Looking at the boats on the shore, she saw them slowly change their translucence. She knew that the Silk was quick to adapt to an environment but this Blood was diluted so must have taken longer to change what reflected light was being sent through it. The practice seemed a little harsh for Tuette as well. With the Silk, the creatures didn’t have to die. When Blood was shed, that meant that one or more of the chameleons had probably been slain for the cause. And chameleons only used their Silk to capture wary insects anyway. It took a lot to fashion a cloak of the type that Fy’tay om Yett most likely owned.


The people that stood around the skiffs all looked towards Ta Bep’toj as if for instruction. They wore articles of clothing that might have been part of a set of uniforms at one time but their individual tastes shone through starkly.


Bep’toj turned and addressed Tuette. “What do we need to make up this Pote before the king arrives?”


Tuette mentally ran over the ritual and required ingredients before responding. The main ingredient was ice and the Freezers could easily provide that. “We’ll need a stem of bordacke root and one of sin ty root. For the expanding effect. And some center fruit juice for the longevity of the effect. Some grip juice or Whismerl vine juice as well. I’ll collect the wood for the fire and the herbs required there. It won’t work without them.” She knew she had to withhold some knowledge because a part of her could not help but reserve the idea that harm might come to her once she was no longer useful. Bep’toj’s “crazy eyes” were really all that backed the supposition but it felt like enough for her. No one seemed to object to her clinging to her secret herbal concoction.


With each ingredient, nods were doled out and Tuette felt that this could finally work. She would manufacture the Pote, travel with the king if it was absolutely necessary, and finally Reverse her wretched, awful Curse.


She would finally be free of her Curse.


Finally free.


A weight seemed to lift from her heart then and she felt her eyes begin to water gently from the effect, as if the force was shoving the tears out. The possibilities seemed to open up in her mind. She could follow the path of a ta or become a teacher or even a freelance sorceress, traveling the land – and maybe even the world – to gather more Magik knowledge.


But Tuette knew she had to take this new path one step at a time and tread the road carefully. She knew uncertainty was lying in the future but also that she would tackle it with the determination that could only sprout from being held back by a Curse for so long. She felt she was more than ready.


Now, for the first step, she had to trust these Zharinnans with fashioning her Freezing Pote with her.


Tuette felt she had no other choice when it came to Reversing her Curse. So trust she would, for better or for worse, direly hoping the latter didn’t apply.