Chapter 28 #3
It was convoluted, and she could see why many deemed Noxolo Danyi mad—though it didn’t seem to her a construct of a madman; as she gazed upon the elaborate and tangled glyph, she saw only the beauty in the design, the artistry, and she could only imagine how skilled and talented Danyi was to begin with, for this to be so intricate, so absolutely complex.
This incra had nothing to do with life or growth, and she couldn’t imagine how this could go wrong.
In her mind, colors had opposites—cool shades and warm shades—and of course, on the color wheel, something she was familiar with, what with her mother being an artist, there were opposites, orange and blue being the most popular with current painters in Salt Hollow—with all the blues of the sea and the cliffs and the tendency for sunrises and sunsets to be particularly vivid.
But would her own knowledge of this affect this specific incra?
She hoped that Khari was right, that this specific of an incra would save her.
“But—” She frowned. “I don’t have anything periwinkle …”
Khari grinned as he withdrew a slender tin box from a drawer in his desk and held it out to her.
She plucked it from his hands, her fingers barely brushing his.
Did she imagine the warm shiver she got from the briefest connection of their fingertips?
She set the tin box upon the desk and eased the lid open.
Inside lay thirteen pristine pressed-powdered oil sticks.
She remembered once her father had gifted her mother a set of six for her nameday.
She hadn’t known how much it had cost her father, but given her mother’s tears and how she fussed over the crayons, using them sparingly, with such care, she could only imagine.
And here were thirteen. Her eye lingered on the periwinkle stick, the light purple bright and happy between two shades of green.
Her mother would’ve loved to have access to this many shades.
“Place the periwinkle on your training parchment.”
She did as she was told.
“Now, study the incra, see how this section”—he pointed at a particular bend in one of the curves—“has this here on this side, but not on the left? You can’t leave this out.
And this here …” He pointed out the anomalies of the incra, places that to her seemed or felt random, sections that her hand might resist replicating exactly.
Audra didn’t think she’d ever focused so hard on a single drawing, but she studied the incra like her life depended on it—because maybe it did.
“When you’re ready, I want you to clear your mind.
Don’t think of periwinkle or cobalt. If either shade has a memory attached to it—and I see that there is something about these oil sticks that do—push that from your mind; don’t think of this memory or that connotation, don’t even picture the thing you desire this incra to do.
It is not for you to change the shade of this paint stick—you have only to cast an incra. ”
She nodded, licking her lip. Determination furrowing her brow as she studied every twist and twirl of this labyrinthine incra. “Alright.”
When she felt she had every curve and loop and bend noted, she picked up the quill and began to replicate the incra onto the training parchment, just below the paint stick.
She felt warmth in her fingertips, racing in her heart, an electric buzz where the pad of her thumb met the quill, but she kept her mind clear of all thoughts, save drawing the incra perfectly, exactly as it was inked on the page.
She focused not on the paint stick, only keeping in focus where quill met parchment.
When her hand cramped, she pressed on; incras could not be drawn in part, they must be scribed all at once, in one swoop, the nib of her quill could never pause, nor lift from the page.
Finally, she closed the mazelike incra and set the quill down, closing her eyes. She stretched out her fingers, wanting to massage them but pushing the desire aside; she didn’t want to seem weak in front of Khari.
She was too afraid to look.
Had periwinkle changed to cobalt?
Or had she just spent a half hour painstakingly replicating an incra for nothing?
“Open your eyes, Audra,” Khari ordered.
She complied.
There, on the desk, was a pristine cobalt oil paint stick. She picked it up with trembling fingers and brought it close. There was no mistaking cobalt for periwinkle, the colors were so vastly different. She lifted her eyes to meet Khari’s proud gaze. He was smiling, grinning even.
“Damn, I’m good,” he remarked.
Audra laughed, raising the paint stick higher. “I did it!”
“You did it.”
“Should we do another incra?” She felt giddy, unstoppable. Like now that she had achieved this, she could master any incra, bend anything to her will.
“There will be time. Return next Sanctum, same time, and I’ll have another incra for you to try. In the meantime, keep up with your coursework and read as many of those texts as you’re able to in the little spare time you’re given.”
She laughed. “So, you lot are aware just how demanding our schedules are?”
An answering chuckle. “I’m not admitting to a thing.”
She stood, feeling lighter than she had in weeks, like if she weren’t careful she would float up to Khari’s ceiling.
“I will, Khari, thank you.”
She hurriedly packed her satchel and heaved the overladen leather bag onto her shoulder along with the scrolls but hesitated, suddenly feeling silly and childish but …
“Khari … may …”
“Yes, you may keep the paint stick.” Somehow, he knew exactly what she would ask. He laughed, the sound warm and cascading.
She relaxed at once, for his laughter was not poking fun at her, but instead finding the joy in this moment, right along with her. In this moment, life here didn’t seem so terrible, and it made Audra wanted to embrace it.
She grinned, plucking the cobalt paint stick with the periwinkle label from where she’d returned it to the tin and slipped it into her pocket. “For proof,” she said.
For here it was, right in her pocket, proof that she was worth more than infantry, that she could become more, was destined for more.
“Audra, a favor?” he asked, just as she was slipping out the door.
“Anything.”
“Keep our private lessons to yourself for now, even from your opinante, as well as the difficulty level of incra you just cast.”
Of course, he wouldn’t want the other students to demand the same; there was no way he could tutor every student one-on-one. Plus, she didn’t need anyone else finding out about this—imagine what Noel would say, if he knew she was getting extra help. Nothing good or kind.
“I won’t breathe a word. See you in class!”
Somehow, knowing that she had succeeded in casting an expert-level incra set something free within Audra—abstract incras weren’t impossible now; she just had to approach them differently from everyone else.
By memorizing every abstract incra on their syllabus and then again, its opposite, or the closest thing to an opposite as she could find.
If she needed ice, she practiced the incra for fire until hoarfrost formed on her lashes and turned her lips blue—but at least she no longer harmed herself.
Still, despite her increased efforts, her small wins, there were some incras she could not master—and they all had to do with life …
the opposite of death. No matter where she looked, how many scrolls and texts she combed through, there were no incras for death, decay, anything that could be the opposite of growth.
At least, none in their assigned texts and scrolls—none even in Khari’s restricted texts.
However, with his extra study materials and guiding hand, she managed to master six more level-three incras on her own, each one more oddly specific and complicated than the one before it.