Chapter
17

Lirra

I YANK THE ELEMENTIARY DOOR OPEN AND STEP inside where it’s slightly cooler. Despite the cloudless sky, it’s unusually muggy today. Pools of perspiration have gathered in every valley on my body. Taming my hair was for naught. Before reaching the port of Celize, my head was kinked and frizzed.

Using a touch of Channeler energy, I draw air toward me, stirring it with my fan until a gentle wind tunnel blows around me. Hair whips my face. The breeze cools my skin.

“Unnnngggg.” It feels nice. So nice.

Pinpricks dance from my fingertips to my elbows—a sign of energy depletion. Usually it doesn’t happen this fast, but I spent the morning lashing the wings of my glider and influencing the wind to give them lift. A short nap and a few steamed buns from the baker weren’t enough for full replenishment. With an unsatisfied grunt, I stop toying around. My hair flops. The air falls stagnant.

“Where did the breeze go?” Astoria’s voice comes from somewhere in the Elementiary.

Her distinctive shuffle scuff thumps nearby. I glance around the shelves and nearly jump out of my skin when I spot a warped view of her face. She’s standing on the other side of the closest shelf, peering through a jar of talons in petrification juice. Last time I saw her, she was enraged over Aodren’s presence. I feel bad about that. To answer her question, I vigorously shake my tingling hand.

“Ah, what have I told you about wasting your Channeler energy on frivolous matters?” she scolds, and moves out of sight.

Frivolous is this fan. I sigh and wave the fancy, frilly piece harder. It’s a whisper compared to a Channeler-coaxed breeze, but then, I don’t normally use the fan for actual fanning. It’s a prop for obscurity.

Ever since I woke on the king’s floor, his pillow under my head, his blanket over my shoulders, and a hint of dawn on the horizon, my mind has been buzzing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night’s conversation about Da and Sanguine. Everything Aodren said made sense, except for the reason Da would go into hiding. Why would an oil as beneficial as Beannach draw that kind of danger?

Then I remembered all of the odd things I’d seen over the last few days—the scene at the fountain, the struggle between Baz and his friend in the cell, the dropped bottle, the champions’ conversation—and the strangest notion occurred to me. What if they’re all pieces of the same tapestry? What if the connecting thread is Sanguine?

Of course, I have nothing substantial to back up the idea. This is why I’ve come to visit Astoria. Few people have as much Channeler knowledge as she does. If anyone knows about Sanguine, it’ll be her.

“First, I came to apologize for yesterday,” I say, throwing my arms around her though her hands are full, and squeezing.

“You’re a lovely girl, my dear. Thank you, but no apology necessary.”

I step back and trail her toward her worktable. “Second, I was hoping for information.”

“Oh, Lirra.” Astoria sets a book down between a few dozen small bottles of liquid and three mounds of dried herbs. Her sympathy-filled eyes gaze at me. I glance around, confused.

“I still haven’t heard from your father,” she says, misunderstanding. “Though Duff Baron is in town, and he mentioned he’d seen your father recently.”

I tuck that information away, relieved to hear Da’s been in contact with someone, which means he’s not in as much danger as I’d thought.

“Actually,” I say, “I came to ask something else.”

“My goodness. I jumped ahead, didn’t I?” A chuckle shakes her shoulders. She ambles around the table and sits down. “Go on, then.”

I watch as her aged hands gather herbs from different piles and deftly bind them together with twine. Long before Astoria ran the Elementiary, she grew up on an herb farm in Malam.

“Have you heard anything about Sanguine oil?” I ask.

A frown wrinkles her mouth. “Why do you ask?”

“Someone mentioned it recently. And I think a sailor friend of mine has some,” I say, not lying. When Da ran from Malam with little more than the clothes on his back and a baby tucked under his arm, Astoria gave him refuge. We trust her implicitly. Which is why I hate withholding any details. But with the summit in progress, and visiting Malamians reminding her of her sister’s death, Astoria is on edge. I don’t want to draw her into this mess any more than I have to, especially if Da didn’t even want me involved.

“Are you talking about that ruffian who has been attempting to court you?” She finishes knotting up one set of herbs and moves to grab another.

“The very one.”

“Figures,” she mutters. “He’s the type to go after Sanguine.”

“Because it’s a healing aid?” Sitting down in the chair across from her, I pick up some herbs and copy her process.

“Yes, and it’s a valuable, sacred oil. Sanguine is known to be the only Channeler remedy that can actually heal someone. Because it’s made by Channelers in Akaria, it’s harder to come by.”

Her answer still doesn’t explain why someone would want to silence Da’s questions. Aodren said people in Malam wrote letters recently claiming the oil was harmful. He thinks it’s only rumors sparked by people who fear Channelers. But what if there is some truth there? I know I’m reaching for answers, but I cannot seem to see an obvious danger facing Da. And if I cannot see the danger, then I’ll never be able to figure out how to help him or the Channelers who are being blamed for the oil.

“Does the oil have any side effects?”

Astoria tilts her head, studying me. “True Sanguine is a gift that the Channelers of the southern kingdom create as an aid for the kingdom’s elite warriors, should they ever fall in battle. It is something that rarely is sold in other kingdoms because Akaria is unwilling to let their stores of Sanguine go. It does not have any side effects other than complete healing.”

“I’ve never heard of anything so powerful.”

“Aye, it’s extremely rare, and can take years to make.”

“You said true Sanguine.”

“Aye.” Her hands get busy again sorting them. She pauses, brings it to her nose, and sniffs.

“Astoria,” I say, and when she doesn’t explain, a groan tears out of me. “You’re torturing me. What do you mean by that? Is there another Sanguine oil?” She still doesn’t respond. “Fine. You just said Sanguine is sacred to Akaria and valuable and rare. It cannot be that sacred or rare if it’s being produced to sell in Malam.”

She gives me an approving nod, a gesture that also means I should continue.

“Right, so I’ve heard some conflicting rumors that it gives Channeler powers to the giftless. But then I also heard it causes illness. Is it possible that there is an imposter oil out there, being sold as Sanguine, that doesn’t have healing power?” I ask, throwing in a wildcard idea.

“Aye.”

I stop bundling herbs and stare at her. “What do you know of the imposter oil?”

“I know nothing good comes from that oil.”

She knows much more than she’s letting on. “What else?”

Her mouth pinches, and it transports me to years past when I was a young girl in the Elementiary. Astoria made me work for everything I learned.

“I saw Baz and a friend arguing over it,” I tell her, leaving out my short stint in the chamber of damnation under the summer castle. “They were acting different. Angrier than normal.” Angry enough to nearly kill a man.

“Fools,” she says with a huff, before reaching for the twine to bind the herbs.

“Did their behavior have something to do with the oil?”

She rolls some herbs between her fingers, breaking them into a dozen tiny pieces that flutter onto the table. “I’ll only tell you this, so you’ll know to be cautious,” she says. “I’d never want any harm to come to you.”

I squeeze her hand. “I know.”

“There is a Sanguine being sold, but it doesn’t heal. It gives a burst of strength to the user that can take hours and sometimes days to fade.”

This must be what the Shaerdanian competitors were talking about outside the tent last night. “There is an oil that gives people increased strength? I didn’t think it was possible.”

“In addition to the surge of strength, this new Sanguine quickens reflexes and dulls sensitivity to pain. That’s a heady effect that people seem quite taken with.”

“Does the oil also bring on bouts of rage?” I ask, certain now that Baz and his friend ingested the newer oil.

She glances up and flicks a finger in my direction, a silent command to keep working. I pinch some herbs from each pile and grab the spool of twine.

“Imagine giving a spoiled child a bite of the most delicious dessert,” Astoria says, the teaching tone in her voice transporting me back to when I was her Elementiary pupil. “What happens when you take it away?”

Her silly analogy almost makes me snort. “They want more?”

“Yes, to the point of having a conniption. Then imagine what would happen if you allowed the child to have their fill.”

I’m sure it’d be like the time Loren and Kiefer snuck out of bed, found the iced cakes Eugenia made for the Merryluna Festival, and devoured all but two. In the wee hours of the morning, a horrendous moan woke the house. What came after was a cacophony of heaving, retching, and Eugenia’s hollering.

I suck in an ahhh, understanding Astoria’s comparison. “I see what you’re saying, take away the oil, and there will be withdrawals. Too much oil, and the buildup can make them sick. What kind of sick?”

She stares back at me like I already know the answer.

“Rage?”

She nods and gathers the completed herb bundles to place them in a basket. “That is the first sign of over-consumption.”

Baz must have had too much of the oil. That’s why he started the fight at the fountain. Seeing the Malamians threatening a Channeler would have pushed him over the edge.

“And the signs? What will happen if Baz keeps taking the oil?”

“In everything, there needs to be order,” she says. I’ve heard these words a hundred times. They are the code Channelers live by. “The giftless weren’t born with Channeler energy. So it isn’t natural for their bodies.”

“But what of Beannach water?” Giftless can consume that Channeler remedy with no negative side effects.

“Like most Channeler remedies, Beannach water contains minimal amounts of our energy,” Astoria says. “When it’s ingested, the water flushes through the body and exits, causing no harm. The new Sanguine oil does not work the same. When consumed repeatedly, it stores up in a person’s body. For the giftless, that much Channeler energy twists a person’s mind. Rage, confusion, illusions—are all side effects.”

“Are there more?”

Her expression tightens and she nods. “I suppose, if someone kept taking the oil, their body would become over-burdened by the Channeler magic, and they would die.”

I hold a hand to my neck. The herbs, having fallen from my fingers, lie scattered across my lap. “That makes no sense. The original Sanguine saves lives. And yet you’re telling me the new Sanguine, if taken in excess, will kill a person?”

“That is the balance of our world.”

I shake my head, wishing Astoria would leave the riddles and parallel thoughts out of our conversation. “Does balance apply to Spiriters? If they heal someone who is giftless, will that person eventually die from the Channeler energy in them that has saved their life?”

“There are other factors involved when a Spiriter heals someone. The transferred energy links to the Spiriter. This link is why the giftless person doesn’t go mad and doesn’t lose their life eventually.”

The comment settles in my stomach like sour milk. I think of all the tomes I’ve read in the Elementiary, and I know she’s right. “People cannot keep taking this imposter Sanguine. They have to be warned.”

Astoria lets out a bitter sigh. “You say that as if the effects are not known. Assuming your friend hasn’t lost his mind yet, he’s aware of what’s happening. He simply does not care. Like other giftless people, he wants power that he should not have, regardless of the cost.”

Sometimes Astoria can be too callous when it comes to the giftless. I don’t have a stomach for her harsh outlook right now. I push away from the table, arms shaking as I snatch my fan.

“I’ve answered your questions. Now you’ll let this topic rest?” she asks.

The hazards of Sanguine affect more than the user. Da, Leif, and even Aodren are proof. In all the years I’ve known Astoria, deception has never tainted our relationship. A thread of guilt whispers through me because I know this is not a conversation she would want me to share with Aodren, the king she loathes. And yet, if people can truly get hurt and die from the new Sanguine, I need to warn him. Things in Malam are already bad for Channelers, and if the giftless start dying from a Channeler remedy, tensions will only worsen and even more people will die. If I deliver this information, maybe the king will return the favor. I don’t know how much danger Da faces, but now I’m certain he could use my help to finish this job.

“I will,” I say, and when her pleased, relaxed smile shines back at me, I duck behind my fan and leave her behind.