Fallen Magic

I blink a few times. “Elsie,” I reply. “What – are you – what – “ I’m trying to ask what are you doing here and what happened and are you okay and can I help all at once, and it’s not really working.

“I had to get away,” Elsie replies. Her voice still has that distant note, as if she’s not quite focused on what she’s saying.

“From…”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

That stings a little, and I flinch. She doesn’t mean it to be cruel, though; it’s easy to feel like you’re alone when you’re not. “Try me,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “Leave me alone.”

I flinch again. I would go, but I can’t shake the thought I had earlier, before realising it was her there. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and she… “I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay.”

Elsie laughs bitterly. “I’m not okay. I’m never going to be okay.” But she sounds present now, fully part of the conversation.

I do understand then, at least a little. Whatever has happened, it’s torn her life apart. If it were Edward, I’d hug him and not let him go and wait until he was ready to talk, but I don’t know and understand Elsie quite as well. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. You can trust me.”

She laughs again, still with the same bitterness. “You’re best friends with Edward starry Blackthorn. You’d tell him – “

“I wouldn’t,” I say, forcing myself not to hesitate.

“Swear it by starlight. That you won’t tell anyone.”

I nod once. “I swear by sacred starlight – “ I glance up once again at the stars and wonder if they can hear my oath – “by the light that guides me at night, by all that is holy, that I will not reveal what you are about to tell me to another soul, not even Edward.”

She takes a deep, shaky breath. “The fortune-teller that day,” she says.

Of course it was that. I guessed that conversation had affected Elsie more than she was letting on, I thought about trying to get her to talk about it, and then I forgot. Because of the tests. Were they really more important to me than my friend? Have I really been so lost in them that –

I feel my heartbeat quickening. I can’t have a Malaina episode now; I need to be here for Elsie. Charles First-King. “The fortune-teller,” I agree. “What did she tell you?”

I’m ready to tell her that the woman was most likely a fraud, that even if she prophesised something terrible it won’t come to pass, that perhaps she was manipulating Elsie. I’m not ready for what she says next.

“She told me I was like her. Gifted with sight beyond sight. She was right.”

“What,” I say flatly. It’s not the right thing to say, but I don’t know what the right thing to say is. I don’t know how to deal with this. At all. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Just keep breathing, Tallulah. “I’m sorry – I just – “

“Knowledge of the gift is enough to awaken it,” Elsie says. “So now… I’ve been seeing things I shouldn’t ever since.”

I take a deep breath, trying to absorb the revelation, and ask the obvious question. “What… sort of things?”

“It seems to be… glimpses. Of people’s futures, when I’m close to them. It varies a lot, though, I haven’t worked out exactly what. Most of the time I can turn it off, but sometimes I can’t. Especially when I’m tired, and just now… I was seeing the future of everyone in my dorm and I couldn’t – I needed to get away from everyone – “

That’s why she wanted me to leave. She wanted to stop the visions, which meant she had to be alone. But I didn’t leave, which means – she could be seeing my future, right now.

For a second I want to ask her about it, but I realise quickly that’s a bad idea. Elsie clearly hates her newfound power – I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t entirely surprise me – and my asking her to use it would make things far worse. But that means she knows things about me that I don’t know myself, and…

Stars. I really don’t know how to deal with this. I take a breath. “Thank you,” I say, “for telling me.” It can’t have been easy; I remember how I never told anyone I was Falling. It means more than I care to admit that she trusts me enough for it. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elsie whispers. “That’s the problem.”

“You don’t want it, do you?” Maybe I’m stating the obvious. But if I can at least find out how she feels, I can maybe help her.

She shakes her head mutely. “You’ve read enough history to know what normally happens to seers and oracles.”

I have, and it is not pretty. Most of them end up beholden to some powerful lord or magician, their gifts worked endlessly to serve their masters, never having control over what their visions are used for. There’s a famous tragedy, She Who Saw Darkness, about Lucius the Usurper’s personal oracle. I don’t know if it’s historically accurate, but it’s certainly chilling.

“That’s why you don’t want Edward to know,” I say. Because Edward, whatever else he may be, is loyal to his father above all else. And Lord Blackthorn would think nothing of adding an oracle to his collection of people. He’d probably treat Elsie a lot better than Lucius treated his seer, but I wouldn’t want that in her place either.

I want to tell her that Edward wouldn’t betray Elsie’s secret to his father. But I honestly don’t know if he would.

I wish suddenly that I already knew how to cast privacy wards, so I could be certain that no-one was listening to this conversation. “If that’s not what you want,” I say, “then no-one else can know.”

She nods. “But… I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know anything about this – I don’t know how I can handle it without going mad.”

Those are the other stories about oracles that are frequently told: those that forever lose a part of themselves to their glimpses or visions, who live partly in another world and lose touch with our own. “You’re not on your own, are you?” I say. “You’ve got me.”

I say it because I know it’s the right thing to say, because I know I will do everything I can to help her, but inwardly I’m doubting myself already. I don’t know about oracles or prophecy beyond what’s common knowledge to any student of history, and I certainly don’t know how to teach an oracle to manage her powers. And I’d have to figure all that out while keeping it a secret from Edward.

I can’t keep secrets from Edward.

Stars help me. Stars help both of us.

“Thank you,” Elsie says.

I try again to clear my mind and focus on just what comes next. Part of me wants to start peppering her with questions about the exact way her powers work, thinking up tests the way Edward would, but that’s the wrong way of going about it. She’s not just an oracle, she’s a lost and lonely girl.

“Do you… want a hug?” I ask.

She nods mutely. I step closer and let her fall into my arms. I’m not used to being the comforter; it’s not particularly comfortable, having someone my own size resting on my shoulder, and the thick coats we’re both wearing make it even more awkward. I feel a little guilty for that thought as I hold her tightly.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’ll be okay.” Am I lying? I don’t know if it’ll be okay, but it’s what she needs to hear right now.

We stay that way for a couple of minutes, until my legs begin to grow numb. I’m biting my lip to supress pain when she finally pulls away.

“Thank you,” she says. “I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. What comes next. “We should go back inside,” I make myself say. “We can’t spend the entire night out here.”

The grimace on Elsie’s face makes it clear she was considering doing just that before I got here. “I can’t go back inside. Not where there’s more people – “

“You’re okay now, though? With me?”

She shrugs. “I… yes. I think so.”

I have to force myself a second time not to ask what she’s seen about me. But now I know it’s possible, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. There’ll always be that gnawing curiosity in the back of my mind. “When you say future,” I ask instead, “do you mean…”

Elsie shrugs again. “Normally a few minutes. That’s how I knew it was true sight. Seeing the same things happen twice.”

“Normally,” I repeat. That isn’t always.

“Once or twice, I’ve seen different things. I assume they’re more distant. I don’t know their significance.”

I have to bite my lip again to avoid asking. This time I draw blood, and hiss in pain.

“What – “ asks Elsie.

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

“You’re right,” she says slowly. “We can’t stay out here the whole night. But… a couple more hours?”

She’s giving me that pleading look again. I can never resist that.

“A couple more hours,” I agree. It’s not as if I had other plans for the evening; that’s why I came out here in the first place.

We study the lake in silence for a little while. The reflected moonlight and starlight is all there is to see by, since I had to extinguish my enchanted light to hug Elsie (a little voice in my mind that sounds suspiciously like Edward points out that I didn’t have to and that limitation is mental rather than conceptual) and it doesn’t seem quite fitting to cast another. Some moments are best kept in darkness.

It is as beautiful as I imagined it would be, if not more so. The way it sparkles and glimmers, the light of each star distorted just a little. It feels like a holy place, almost more so than the temples I’ve visited. I glance across at Elsie and know she feels that way too; she’s always been the most ardently religious of my friends.

Temple doctrine on oracles, as with many other things, is ambiguous and frequently contradictory. They’re walking stars, placed among the people to guide them. They’re mortals granted fragments of the stars’ power. Their power comes from quite different sources, and is in fact a curse.

I don’t know what I believe, but I’m sceptical of all of those explanations. I’m a practical person, when it comes to it: the metaphysics doesn’t really matter. What does is that the oracle I’m dealing with now is my friend and I need to help her.

“Do you want to talk?” I ask.

“Haven’t we just talked?”

“Oh – “ I laugh awkwardly. “That’s not what I meant – I mean do you prefer silence or conversation – right now – “

“Would you mind if I said silence?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Shall we walk round the lake, though? We don’t want to get too cold, and moving might help.”

“If you want to walk, we can,” says Elsie.

It’s not exactly enthusiasm, but it’s as good as I’m going to get. So walk we do, counterclockwise. There isn’t a path that goes around the lakeshore; we have to stick to the grass. I summon another enchanted light, conceding to the practicality of not wanting to walk unknowingly into the lake. I hold it cupped in my hands, letting its light spread just far enough we can see the ground in front of us.

We call it a lake, but it’s really not more than a large pond. There’s no room for a proper lake in the heart of the City. It takes us only a couple of minutes to loop back around to where we’ve started, but the good thing about walking in circles is that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to stop.

We go round again. The silence is almost oppressive, only broken by the sound of our grass-muffled footsteps. I suppose the ducks that live on the lake must be asleep, and if there’s other wildlife around none of it shows itself or even makes a sound.

I feel almost as if I’m dreaming, between the darkness and the quiet and the way what I’ve found out still doesn’t quite seem real. For a moment I wonder if I’ve fallen deep into a Malaina episode without noticing, but that’s not usually how it happens. I’d have noticed before now, at least I think I would.

The doubt unsettles me, and so does the lack of conversation. Elsie might be comfortable with silence, but when I don’t have a task to occupy my mind it makes me restless. I almost wish I’d brought a book with me, or some work – I suppose there’s always stargazing, which probably counts as Astronomy revision.

We reach our starting point a second time. I glance over at Elsie; her face is expressionless, and she keeps walking. I hesitate for a second and then follow her onwards.