Only one task left.
Reaching for my tailor’s tools, I touched my amulet to summon the dress of the blood of stars. It was the most fickle of my dresses, and the one most connected to me. I’d held off on repairing it for so long, not wanting to remind myself of what I had sacrificed to make it.
Streams of silk curled out of the amulet, and the star-painted dress materialized in my arms. Though the bodice was ripped and the skirts torn, seeing it still filled me with wonder. As I set it over my lap, its fabric came alive at my touch, unleashing a trove of colors—most of all a vibrant, shimmering violet, like stars beaming from across the universe. And power enough, I hoped, to slay a demon.
I set to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A stroke of sunlight caressed my face, easing my eyelids open.
I blinked, not remembering that I’d fallen asleep. But I was back in bed, a thin muslin blanket folded over me, and Edan was gone.
On my pillow I found a fresh plum blossom, and a note written in Edan’s small, elegant hand.
I’m going to look for Master Tsring. There are fried buns and peanut cakes for breakfast. You’ll like the cakes. Will save you some before they’re all gone.
Tucking the note into my pocket, I smiled. Trust Edan to remember my sweet tooth. I sniffed, inhaling the aroma of fresh peanuts on the griddle. The old me would have swooped downstairs to wolf down the cakes, but now they did not tempt me at all.
I dressed and hurried to find Edan, but Master Tsring himself intercepted me in the stairwell.
“Come,” he said before I could stutter a morning greeting.
He motioned for me to follow him, down the winding wooden stairs into a cavernous corridor built within the mountain. The corridor grew narrower, and we exited into an outdoor alcove behind a waterfall. Despite the rush of the cascading falls, the air here was calm. Water-stained statues of Nandun, carved of stone and jade, stood along the edge of the rock.
“We call this sanctuary the Cascading Peace,” Master Tsring said, sitting on the wet ground. I followed his example. The water pounded behind me, cool spray misting the back of my neck. “I tell my students to come here when the responsibilities of magic trouble them.”
He gave me a moment to absorb his words. “Few enchanters walk this earth, Maia. Rare is the gift of magic, rarer still the ability to wield it. Gen was one of our most powerful, but even he failed to understand that serving a thousand years beside men and women of great destinies is as much a burden as it is a gift.”
“He knows now,” I said quietly. “He’s known for a long time.”
“He has learned to live with regret,” Tsring agreed. “Still, had he not met you, it is likely he would have completed his oath.”
“I—”
“Better he break it now than later,” the master said over me. “My disciples here will never take the oath. Never will they taste the power that Gen possessed, and never will they endure the suffering that has befallen you.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“Ill times await A’landi,” said Master Tsring carefully. “There is much good Gen can still do, even though he will never be as powerful as he once was. I ask you to go to Lapzur alone, so that he may stay here and complete his training.”
“Y-you want me to leave him?” I spluttered.
“It would be for the best. I thought I could help you, Maia. Truly.” The old man paused, his attention settling on a stream of water trickling down the rocks. “But now I see you should have let Gen become the guardian. Armed with the goddess’s legacy, you make a far more dangerous demon than he would have been.”
His words made my chest tighten. A wave of irritation rippled through me, and I bit my lip, trying to subdue my rising temper. I would not be angry. I would not.
The master bowed his head, aware of my struggle. He took on a gentler tone. “My disciples complain that I am harsh. I do not mince my words because I have seen what withholding the truth can do. Perhaps if I had been harsher with Bandur, he would not have broken his oath. Perhaps he would not have taken it in the first place.”
Master Tsring’s lips thinned, crinkles forming along the corners. “If you fail to defeat him at Lapzur, I will be ready for him when he is freed.”
“You’re wrong about me,” I told him, standing. “I won’t turn.”
“It matters not either way.”
I spun sharply to face him. His statement was firm, his eyes clear. This was not what he had told us at lunch yesterday.
“I had the gift of prescience,” he explained. “Its power has faded since I completed my oath, but every now and then, the sight returns to me. No matter how many times I look into the flames, no matter how many times I cast the stones or read the leaves, it is the same result. For you, Maia Tamarin? I see naught but ashes.” He rose to stand at my side. “You know it, too.”
Mist from the cascading falls blurred my vision, and I lowered my lashes, trying to blink my eyes dry. “Is that why you wanted to speak with me this morning? Simply to tell me that I will die even if I defeat Bandur?”
“Whether or not you defeat him at Lapzur, you are still your own greatest enemy. You cannot survive the battle against yourself.”
Tsring exhaled, lifting his arms. “Even still, all is not as bleak as it sounds. There is a rip in the heavens, created by magic. The Weaver, your ancestor, was the first to mend it, but he was careless and left a trace of his magic among his mortal descendants.” He eyed the scissors hanging from my belt. “Thanks to the folly of enchanters and demons, the rip in the heavens has returned. It falls to you to mend it once more.
“Maia, two powers clash inside you now. I am certain you have felt it. The dresses urge you to heal the heavens, but the demon inside urges you to tear them apart. Whichever voice you choose to heed will determine the legacy you leave behind.”
I swallowed hard. “What about Edan? Did you see his fate?”
“Gen’s fate is more fluid. Whether or not he lives rests heavily on the choices you make.”
“That’s why you think he should stay,” I whispered.
“Whatever he chooses, I will honor,” replied Master Tsring. Then he hesitated. “I asked him to stay before he went looking for you. I told him that he was meant for magic. Do you know what he replied?”
The answer rang familiar, as if coming from a dream.
“ ‘I was meant for magic, once, but because of Maia, I am no longer the enchanter I was before. I am meant for her now. Her above all else.’ ”