Book 3: The Lost Tiro
Chapter 1
“Make way! Make way for the queen of Jeffro!”
Sienna took a step back instinctively. She had heard that call so many times over the past eight months that it barely made an impact on her that day.
There had been a day, of course, when she dreamed about meeting Queen Eliza of Jeffro, imagining her beauty and the glory of the palace. As a small child on Jeffro, Sienna had little else to do; ill health plagued her every movement. The one thing that saved her, was that her body contained a level of magic that was off the charts. Having magic that was identified from a young age was many children's ticket out of poverty and into a life of luxury. Witches trained all their lives–devoted to the magic–to serve as the peacekeepers and overseers of the whole galaxy. They were expected to focus on nothing but the magic, being trained, and then training others. Their entire lives were paid for, sponsored by the galaxy, and they wanted for nothing.
Sienna had thought she would never be trained because of her health, which seemed to confuse everyone. As a witch, she was entitled to care, to school, but not to training. It had been her greatest dream to be a Tiro, a student of the magic. But it wasn't until she was almost eight that someone saw beyond her weak body and into her power. Her case was so complicated that she had two teachers–two Maestros–who had once been Maestro and Tiro themselves. Desmond and Nathaniel had radically different styles, and the first few years were rough as they clashed on everything. But now, five years later, they were quite settled into a routine.
At least, they had been until eight months ago, when they had been exiled to Jeffro after Desmond had been caught one time too many with the witch he had been in love with for forty years, Mariah. It had been more complicated than that, with the head witch healer finally getting revenge for the years of arguments that Desmond and Nathaniel had given her about Sienna's unique care.
She didn't blame Desmond for their exile, nor did she mind as much as she was supposed to. She was on Jeffro, where she could speak her first language, and she didn't have the rigorous schooling or quest schedule that she used to. Mariah was here in exile as well, and Nathaniel's long-term relationship with Eliza was barely kept under wraps. In a lot of ways, it was the best of both worlds.
She missed the young witch, Devon, she had gotten to know at school, but they kept in frequent touch. Her Maestros were experts on long distance relationships, and she had learned much.
She knew she wasn't supposed to speak about how happy she was, but she was. She beamed at Eliza as she went by. When Eliza's palace had been destroyed in an attack last year, they had relocated to a smaller, summer house in the south. It was still beautiful, Sienna thought as she bowed low. Despite the tragedy that had befallen Jeffro with the destruction of the palace, they were quite lucky.
Her mind jumped, and she looked up to see her older Maestro, Desmond, standing across the room. He waited until Eliza's procession went by and was exiting the room before he crossed the marble hallway in her direction. With two Maestros, she was in the unique position of working with them in shifts if she needed something. Often, she didn't see Desmond from dinner until morning, which was far longer than most Tiros went without seeing their sole Maestro.
“Good morning, little one,” he said. “I was looking for you.”
Sienna smiled, wondering if she was always going to have the nickname, despite being almost as tall as both of them these days. She was still razor thin, her bones jutting out, but the fact that she had grown at all from her youth was an unexpected miracle. It was only thanks to her Maestros' persistence in finding medication that would not make her gene defects worse that she was alive at all.
“I was awake,” she said, with a shrug, her accent still strong when she spoke Basic. The months on Jeffro had made her fall back a few steps in language, made worse by the fact that she could telepathically communicate with both of her Maestros. “I swam.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You went to the lake alone?”
She backpedaled. “I went…with other people.”
“With other people that know you?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Sienna, please do not go swimming alone, when no one knows what could happen.”
She blushed, looking at the floor. “But you were both asleep.”
“Mariah was up at dawn,” he said. “She is happy to go with you.”
The fact that Mariah had been blinded in a quest over ten years ago was not lost on either of them. She was very skilled at using her magic to see beyond normal sight, and Desmond felt it was safer for her to at least be accompanied by Mariah than to go alone, when his Tiro was prone to fainting or seizures. She knew this without a shadow of a doubt.
“I didn't…,” Sienna searched for the words. “I don't want to fight.”
“We aren't fighting, little one,” he said. “I came to fetch you because the Academy has uploaded a new module for you to work on, and it seems to have a quick deadline. I can help you if you'd like.”
“Suspension of services, but not school,” she answered. The truth was, none of them knew how long they would live in this limbo. The Jurors–their governing body–said it was until they had reviewed all the evidence of the case against Desmond and Mariah, which, given that they had been circling around each other for forty years, could be a while. Sienna knew that if they dug deeper, they could find evidence against Nathaniel and Eliza, too. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she lost both her Maestros. They were the reason she was alive at all. “You want to work on it now?”
“What else are we doing, Sienna?” he asked. It was meant to be a joke, but she felt the pang of sadness from him. They were stuck in limbo until the Jurors said it was all right. Or until they said it wasn't.
“Mmm,” she said, with a shrug as their boots tapped on the marble floor. It was so calm here; Eliza was in complete control. There had never been a queen like Eliza–so young and yet so powerful, born to sit on the throne. She twisted her wrist without thinking, opening the door that wasn't automatic, to protect the queen. Desmond raised an eyebrow at her, and she dropped her hand. “Sorry. Instinct.”
“For most, it is,” he said. “But until your magic is better controlled, it's best you don't.”
“But will it ever be better controlled?” she asked him, pausing. “Every time I do more than open a door, Desmond, I feel like I'm going to throw up. That's not control. That's not–”
“We just have to find a different way of doing things,” he assured her calmly. “And we will.”
“What kind of witch can't use magic?” she asked him.
“The new kind that you will create,” he said softly. “That will be your legacy. But for now, there's much more learning to do, all right?”
She wanted to argue, but she knew better.
“Go, start up your tablet and log in,” he said. “I will join you in a moment.”
“But–” she was confused by his sudden change of direction. His face remained calm, and when she tried to push into his mind, she found that she was blocked. She was incredibly skilled at reading minds; but Desmond was also incredibly skilled at keeping her out. He hadn't spent forty years with Mariah in order to let someone discover his inner most thoughts easily. “All right.”
“I'll be in shortly,” he assured her. Once he was satisfied that she was distracted, he turned down the hallway, quickening his pace. He approached the vast library–Mariah's favorite place. She usually settled into the library in the mornings to relax. Now, he felt her calling out to him, and it wasn't at ease.
“What is it?” he asked, as he passed through the doors. She was sitting on the couch, her tablet on her lap. Mariah's tablet was specially equipped to read her messages to her, which meant she had to be careful where she was when she played them. The library was currently empty, but she did a quick check with her magic as Desmond sat down.
“I just got a message from Sybil,” she said, mentioning her former Tiro and Nathaniel's best friend. Those had been some of the best days of Desmond's life, he thought. Their Tiros were the same age, from the same class, and had similar skills. Desmond and Mariah took many joint quests, raising the closest thing to a family they were allowed to have. “I think you should hear it.”
“What is it about?” Desmond asked, sitting down as he took the tablet from her. Despite her Maestro being in exile, Sybil regularly sent her messages, keeping in close contact. Currently, Sybil and her own Tiro, Kierry, were on a long-term quest in the Outer Rim, tracking down wanted fugitives from the galaxy. They were excellent at it and had a high success rate. The only downside was that Desmond was blatantly reminded of the things Sienna would never do. “The most recent message?”
“She went undercover,” Mariah said, softly. “I know she isn't supposed to tell me, but she thought I should know…to tell you.”
Desmond pulled up the message, turning off the audio feature so he could scan it privately.
Pretending to be a witch who uses their magic for Acheronian reasons is not as hard as you think. It's actually quite fun. That could be because Kierry and I are not the slightest bit tempted at all; it's so obviously wrong to us. But it means we run into people that we used to know–witches who used to walk our halls. We haven't met him yet, but you should know that the witch on a high-up seat, running this operation, is almost certainly Reynolds. We are in deep so that he won't suspect us, and we will use Desmond's name to speak of reasons for turning. He is alive, he is thriving, and he is leading hits of witches. I can link him to at least four in the last three years.
Desmond stopped reading there, his eyes blurring. He said nothing, but Mariah sensed his distress, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Reynolds–his first Tiro. The one who was supposed to be his pride and joy, making his career. Instead, just at the brink of becoming a Maestro himself, Reynolds chose the Acheronian side of magic–a side that was forbidden–and abandoned everything Desmond had taught him. The pain of his desertion had almost ruined Desmond for good, and he never forgot Reynolds. To hear that he was doing this, though, opened the wound all over again.
“You should get Sybil out of there,” he finally managed. “You don't know what Reynolds is capable of. He–”
“Sybil can take care of herself. This is her area of expertise,” Mariah said. “It's not Sybil I'm worried about right now.”
Desmond bit his lip, trying to control his emotions. “I've always known he was alive,” he said. “But aside from that, I tried not to know; tried not to think.”
“If she finds him, you know what she'll have to do,” Mariah said softly.
“She'll have to kill him,” Desmond's voice was emotionless. “I know.” He put the tablet back in Mariah's lap, standing up. “She won't find him, though. He's too quick; too smart. But if she does….”
“I won't tell you,” Mariah said, and he shrugged.
“I’ll know,” he replied. “When a Maestro loses a Tiro, they always know.”