11 Imogen #2
I thought better than to tell her, but I was so shaken, so disturbed at the mention of visions, at the thought of being a proper Mage Seer and not just a lost woman playing at one, that I told her about Ligea in the sand, and of her, young and vital beside her.
Eusia was quiet for a very long moment. “Ligea filled the hole with water, but the spell put her into a stupor for days,” she finally said.
“It was a strange sickness. She said there had been a screaming between her ears that she could not quiet.” Eusia watched me through the nekgya’s eyes and made a contemplative sound.
“But when I perform a spell, I am sating a depthless hunger. I am wider than the realm and deeper than this little sea. Even the pain of it satisfies me now. What need have I for a home, or a whole body, or a lover when magic has become all of that to me and more?”
Foreboding fell over me like a cold shadow.
“So tell me,” Eusia went on. “When you performed your spell, did it drain you like it did your mother, or feed you like it does me?”
“It—”
Eusia knew my answer. She knew I’d felt the ravenous gnawing, the filling up, the scalding, the determination to have more. Nausea rolled through my aching stomach when I realized that the terrifying desire I felt for Theodore was likely all my own. “You already know—”
“Yes. But I wish to hear you say it.”
I tightened my fist around my dagger, feeling powerless against the truth. I swallowed and answered like I confessed an unforgivable offense. “It fed me.”
“That is because you want, dearest. Desperation is power. Ligea never knew that sort of hopelessness. It feeds magic the way air feeds fire.” The nekgya before me gave a slow, vacuous smile, and I could feel Eusia’s deep satisfaction. “Now, what spell do you wish to learn?”
The day was warm, but a wave of gooseflesh erupted over my skin. “I wish to locate someone across the sea.”
The nekgya’s fishlike eyes locked on to the cup I held. “Is that the blood of their kin?”
I nodded.
“Very good.” Her voice brimmed with approval. “And whom do you seek?”
“I expect you know that already too.”
“I expect I do.” There was a light in her voice that told me she found great pleasure in this exchange.
Perhaps it was the challenge of it, or the fact that I needed her.
Maybe she took great joy in corrupting her reviled sister’s Gods-blessed daughter.
But I wondered, too, if perhaps simply conversing with someone so pathetically alive as I was made her feel something that magic never could.
“I’ll give you one guess.”
“It’s Nivala you seek.” She watched me for a drawn-out moment in silence.
“What fun you are. It has been so long since I’ve played a game.
And longer still since I’ve taught.” The nekgya reached over the edge of the boat and scooped up some water in her good hand.
She poured it into the cup of blood I held. “Swirl it.”
I did, being careful not to spill one drop. When I was done, I glanced up at the ship’s windows to see Theodore’s council half leaning out on the sills, squinting against the sun to watch.
“The spell is a simple one,” Eusia said. “It can be done on land or at sea. Here is what you need: First and most importantly, intention. You need a loose object, the blood and name of whom you wish to find, flesh payment, and the words.”
“You seem rather eager to help me locate the empress.”
“Curious, isn’t it?” she said, smiling.
I tried to not let her see the way her willingness unsettled me, but I expected she knew that too. I cut a little piece of flesh from my stomach, below my wound, and tugged my shirt back down. “Tell me the words.”
The nekgya’s red-scaled feet stretched out languidly between us, as if she was enjoying herself. “Hold them in your head. I will only say them once… Through the soil, the night, the day, and the sea. Salt reach and wind shriek, draw their blood back to me.”
I played the words again in my head.
“You will take a drop of that bloody seawater and hold it on your tongue,” Eusia said.
“With more of the mixture, you will write the name of the person you seek on your loose object—this boat. Then, with the salt and blood still on your tongue, you will speak their name. You will swallow your payment. You will say the words.” The nekgya made her way to the bow of the boat in an unnatural, dragging crawl.
She grabbed the thick towline that connected the launch to the ship.
“And then you will wait for the boat to stop.”
“To stop?”
All but a few of her black-tipped talons were intact, and she began slicing them through the rope’s coarse strands. “You must complete the steps quickly. Before the blood mixture thickens. Begin.”
I didn’t tarry. As the nekgya sawed through the rope, I took a drop of Halla’s blood and let it fall, metallic and salty, onto my tongue.
I let it sit there as I dipped my finger once more into the cup and traced an N over the wooden bench before me.
I homed in on my intention. I saw Agatha’s face in my mind, and I thought of the empress.
I pictured her ship, midnight-blue flags snapping at the top of the masts.
The nekgya kept sawing at the fraying rope, and I continued to write until the last letter was clear.
Then I spoke the name. “Nivala.”
Just as the nekgya finished cutting through the rope, I spoke the words of the spell.
The boat gave a sudden lurch and slowed. I stood, legs wide and stomach aching, as the distance between the ship and the launch grew. I sent a current to keep the little boat close.
Before the nekgya jumped back into the sea, she perched on the launch’s bow, scaled legs hanging, ruby-webbed toes grazing the choppy waves. I took in her shimmering scales and flashing eyes, with a discomforting sort of awe.
She tilted her head, unblinking gaze locked with mine. “I will see you soon, dearest.” Then she slipped into the sea and was gone.
I waited for the spell with my hands in tight fists, but all I could feel was a slight thinning of the air, a crackling against my skin.
My breaths began to speed, loud in my ears.
I glanced up toward the ship where the windows were open, and the council’s faces, Halla’s now included, watched me with such engrossed attention that I had to look away.