The brainstorm pulsed and flashed outside the sheltering walls of the tower. Galli could feel the storm, buzzing in the back of her head, even though Auntie Doc had given her a shot.
"It will just put your inner ear to sleep," Auntie Doc had told her. "Just for a little while. Just until the storm is over."
The shot had not hurt. They never did. Afterward, Auntie Doc gave Galli a pat on the head and sent her to Auntie Cook to get a sweet treat.
The treat was long gone now and the brainstorm showed no signs of ending. All the aunties had gathered in the big, central room where Grandmother sat.
Grandmother frightened Galli. Old was too pallid and bloodless a word to describe Grandmother. Her face looked like a wizened apple, left out in the sun for far too long. She had tiny, raisin-like eyes and a puckered, thin-lipped mouth. Whatever fat the old woman had possessed had dissipated over the long years, until she was a skeletal figure wrapped in leathery skin and buried beneath layers of fine, black silk.
She smelt weird. Galli suspected the odor had something to do with the tubes concealed beneath Grandmother’s robes. They ran from the old woman’s body, through the floor, to Auntie Doc’s surgery, which was right below the central room. Sometimes, in the dark, Galli thought she could see the mixtures Auntie Doc pumped into Grandmother; they glowed radioactive greens and blues and, sometimes, very rarely, red or orange.
The Aunties were restive, sitting in a semicircle around Grandmother. They had all had the same shot as Galli, so they could not partake of the thoughtweb and what amusements it might have offered. Instead, they sat and read or knit or meditated. Some stared, uneasily, at their visitor.
The visitor was an outsider. She was not from Laquna; she was not an Auntie or a Sister or a Mother. Her presence intrigued and frightened Galli, hinting at a world beyond the tower, a world that she knew nothing about.
The woman did not sit, but leaned against a wall. She was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed all in silver. Her red hair was secured in a bun, at the back of her neck. She was as pale as any of the Aunties, but her face was round and she had a constellation of freckles across her nose. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with pleasure and her mouth seemed given to friendly grins and warm smiles.
In the silver fingers of her left hand, the stranger held a sphere. It was the kind of plastic trash the lowbrains from the valley left as offerings on the tower steps. Most of it wound up in the garbage. Very rarely, Auntie Machine would lay claim to something interesting.
The sphere in the woman’s hand flickered with purple and green color. Galli peered at it, curious, even though she had been warned to stay away from the stranger.
The Aunties had thought things like ‘
Arcanist’ and ‘
adventuress’ before the shots silenced their inner tongues. Galli would have asked Auntie Book what an ‘arcanist’ was, but she doubted the old woman would have told her. Auntie Book parceled out her learning like gold, but she often forgot to mute her inner voice and Galli knew there was a chance she could have gleaned something about their visitor.
The tower had never had a visitor before now. Oh, there had been the Sisters, of course, and the occasional Mother. However, none of them had been outsiders. The stranger was the first outsider that the Aunties had welcomed into the tower, at least in Galli’s lifetime.
She couldn’t help being curious.
As if sensing Galli’s eyes upon her, the stranger glanced up from the sphere. Her blue eyes met Galli’s brown ones, and the woman flashed her a grin and gave a little wave. Galli was heartened by the gesture and drifted over to the stranger.
"Hello," said the woman, speaking softly. "I’m VeAnn. What’s your name?"
Movement caught Galli’s eye and she turned to see Auntie Rule walking toward them. She dipped her head and shrank back at the woman’s approach.
"Galli, don’t bother our guest," chided Auntie Rule, but her disapproving squint was aimed squarely at VeAnn.
VeAnn didn’t seem to notice. She smiled a broad smile. "Oh, she wasn’t bothering me, ma’am. I think she was just curious about my scrying ball."
She held up her sphere, clear now and quiet. There was no sign of flickering color or movement on its surface or inside it.
"Nevertheless," said Auntie Rule, "we wouldn’t want the child to be a bother."
"A few questions wouldn’t bother me," said the stranger. She grinned at Galli. "Actually, they might help pass the time."
Auntie Rule took a breath, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted.
"Rule."
The voice was ancient and worn, tinged by weariness and humor. The Aunties stirred and looked from Grandmother to Auntie Rule.
"The little one has to find out about the World at some point. Leave them be."
Auntie Rule looked stung. Her cheeks bloomed red with embarrassment; she bobbed her head at the stranger and returned to her seat, where the other Aunties pretended that nothing had happened.
The strange woman arched her eyebrows, then shrugged and knelt. She moved gracefully in spite of her armor.
"So, your name is Galli."
Galli nodded.
"Would you like to see my ball?"
Unable to think of anything else to do, Galli nodded. VeAnn grinned and proffered her the ball.
Galli touched it. The moment her fingertips hit the warm plastic sphere, colors bloomed within the ball. She peered at them and saw.
A distant shore where the sky was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands, of shrieking gray-winged bird-things. They wheeled above fetid waters and fought for purchase on the grayish green cliffsides, where they gorged themselves on rotting meat. . . .
A courtyard. The sun beats down, hot and bright. Sweat trickling down her neck, slicking her hair. Before her, a dwarf with skin the color of chalk, moving through the complicated steps of some esoteric martial art. The long staff he held was a blur of motion and when he grinned and leaped toward her, she could see his teeth, whiter than snow and filed to sharp points. . . .
Twilight in a garden. Dew-slick grass beneath her bare feet. The scent of flowers in her nose. Overhead, the moons beginning their promenade. Behind her, music and laughter, the clink of crystal glasses. . . .
"Well, that was unexpected."
Galli blinked, realized that she had lost all track of time. The scrying ball was throbbing inside with a soft pinkish green glow. VeAnn retrieved the ball and twisted her hand, somehow making it vanish.
"What . . . what was all that?" asked Galli.
Her voice was rough and broken. She had not spoken in a long time. Doing so now, she felt like a lowbrain, like an animal.
"Bits and pieces of my past," said VeAnn. "More than you should have been able to see."
She gave Galli a thoughtful look.
"How do you feel?"
Galli shrugged. "Okay. Why?"
"It doesn’t matter," said VeAnn.
Galli did not need her inner ear to know that the stranger was lying. She realized that the storm had abated; the constant buzz in the back of her skull had changed from a swarm of bees to a single, solitary insect.
"The brainstorm’s almost over," she said.
"Good," said VeAnn. She leaned against the wall and peered into the air. "It’ll be good to be on the road again."
"Where are you going?" asked Galli. She thought of the things she had seen in the sphere, coast and courtyard and garden.
"To Ring," said VeAnn. "Through the Empyrean Wastes and from there to Bennux."
Galli stared. "You’re going to the Fog Moon?"
"I am."
"I’ve never been outside the tower," said Galli. "What’s it like? Traveling?"
"Sometimes it’s fun," said VeAnn. "Other times? Not so much. It can be dangerous."
"Do you ever get scared?"
"Sometimes," said VeAnn. "But you can’t let fear stop you. My daddy taught me that."
"I didn’t have a daddy," said Galli. "Just a Mother."
A soft chime sounded and Galli yawned. She smiled at the stranger.
"I have to go to bed now," she said. "Thank you for showing me your ball."
"You’re welcome," said VeAnn. "Sweet dreams."
* * * * *
At the chime, the Aunties had risen as one and begun to drift away from the central chamber. Only Auntie Doc and Auntie Rule lingered, standing close to Grandmother. VeAnn approached them, a wry grin on her face.
"I suppose you think you’re subtle," she said, addressing the Grandmother.
The old woman’s wizened mouth creaked into a smile. For an instant, VeAnn thought of desiccated mummies she had seen.
"This is Laquna," chortled the old woman. "There are very few accidents here, child."
VeAnn let that statement pass. Instead, she cocked her head and peered at the three women standing in front of her.
"How long have you suspected?"
"Not long," said Auntie Doc.
"Is it true?" asked Auntie Rule. "Is the child tainted?"
VeAnn’s blue eyes flashed. "Tainted? I wasn’t aware that the Whispering Towers had become a Purist Culture."
"We have not," said Grandmother, sharply. She shifted on her chair, glowered at Auntie Rule. "But we have our precepts, Lady VeAnn. Is the child Arcane?"
VeAnn crossed her arms, met the old woman’s gaze. "I believe so. She should be tested, to make sure."
"Can you test her?" asked Auntie Doc.
"The only test I could give would kill her if she failed," said VeAnn. "What will you do?"
"She cannot remain among us," said Grandmother. She pinned VeAnn with a dark glare. "You know the reasons why as well as we do, child."
"There’s an Arcanist Union in Zythic," said VeAnn. "Send for them. They can test Galli and, if necessary, they can apprentice her."
"That is not an ideal solution," said Auntie Rule. "Galli is precocious. Her inner senses are strong and sharp. If. . . ."
"There is no other choice," said Grandmother. "We will do as you have recommended, Lady VeAnn. Thank you for your counsel."
VeAnn inclined her head. "I wish. . . ."
Grandmother sighed. "We know, child. We know."
"It’s late," said Auntie Rule. "We should all get some rest. I suspect that tomorrow will be a trying day."
* * * * *
VeAnn left the tower early the next morning. The moons had vanished behind a screen of gray clouds, and the sun had not breached the horizon. She trudged down the long stone steps, carved from the tower to the base of the hill. At the bottom, she found a smattering of objects left there during the night: a wooden idol, a data pad that did not work, a bowl of some purple-skinned fruit VeAnn did not recognize.
She lingered there for a moment, looking at the offerings, then raising her gaze to peer at the hilltop tower. For a moment, VeAnn thought she saw a small figure, waving at her from one of the tower’s high windows.
She flexed her fingers and called her scrying ball into being. Briefly, she touched her lips to the sphere’s warm surface, then placed it among the offerings.
"May the Fates be kind," she murmured, then turned and resumed the long trek to Ring.
