forty-three #3
“You also need a weapon,” Sulim said. “Yeah, I know, you can rip someone’s head off with a flick of your wrist if you want, but people need to be at least kinda intimidated by you. It’s not enough that you’re a powerful sorceress with the pedigree to back it up.
The brain-injured idiots around here will look at a thin woman and imagine that they can take her on for whatever bullshit they’ve cooked up in whatever is left of their minds. So, do us all a favor and get a gun.”
Mira’s hands slammed on her hips, inadvertently picking up and clattering all of Takir’s tools onto the floor. As the seamstress cursed her, Mira said, “Is this how you talk to me now?”
“As a chief who has just taken over but doesn’t really know how shit works around here? Absolutely. I’m doing you a favor.”
“I don’t even know how to use a firearm! I’ve never had to use one.”
Mira couldn’t imagine a situation where it made the most sense.
Sure, in that other life, she had a sorcery-suppressing tattoo, but that was absurd here.
Anyone who attacked her—anyone at all—would get it reflected at them at best…
or split in the head at worst. Unlike some of her julah contemporaries, Mira wasn’t afraid to use her sorcery in self-defense.
Or to even save those closest to me…
She remembered, as she watched Sulim get back to work, killing some of the very mercenaries who walked the halls now. In that other reality, they had been given the wrong contract. That Mira mowed through them knowing that her soulmate’s life was endangered. I would do it again.
The only question was whether she could go against another julah. Let alone her father.
“…A stave is really the only weapon julah use when pressed.”
That masculine voice nearly Ascended Mira’s soul straight to the Void.
Even Sulim went for the dagger on her hip, not that it would have done her any good against the julah who had teleported directly into the room.
Once Mira’s heart stopped beating in panic, she groaned and apologized to Takir, who had no idea who Ramaron was—but was ready to punch him in the face for startling her so badly.
“We’ve got a small selection somewhere back at Marlow Estate. They come and go en vogue, and are very much not en vogue right now.”
Mira shot him a dire warning for interrupting them. “The Defense Force carry firearms.”
“Which they train extensively with, of course.” He approached closer, dressed in fresh clothing and smelling of the hedpah of the High Temple. Someone had returned from Garlahza. “Humans and many human-raised ma-julah have no concept of what staves actually do.”
“Which is nothing,” Mira said. “No julah has ever needed a focus for using sorcery.”
“Staves were indeed much more common for fashion and ritual, but as I said, I have some stored away back at the estate. They are generations old but are still brand-new looking, thanks to all of the sorcery still lingering on them long after their owners’ death.
They might not be necessary for directing our talent where it needs to go, but they are certainly imposing to impressionable humans who know what we’re capable of.”
“You want me to have one hand always full? Around here?”
“Honestly,” Sulim spoke up, “I’d be worried about you having a gun. It might accidentally go off when you’re angry.”
“You do have a habit of using your destructive sorcery for intimidation,” Ramaron said. “If you’re going to be the first sorceress to rule over Cerilyn, you might as well look the part. To your human subjects, I mean.”
Mira furrowed her brows and tossed her annoyance toward Takir. “Can you make me an outfit to go with a stave?”
“I can make anything, ma’am.”
While she worked, it was Ramaron’s cue to report what he had discovered on Garlahza. “Word of your actions has reached most of parliament. It’s going about how you expected.”
“Completely disowned by House Dunsman, no word from House Lerenan, and people are awkwardly looking at you?”
“Believe it or not, your natal House hasn’t said anything. Your stunt may have given your grandmother the heart attack to end her.”
She genuinely couldn’t tell if Ramaron was joking. So, she said nothing.
“The biggest buzz is in the Temple. I had several Premiers ask if I knew about you. Nobody knows that I’ve been to Cerilyn, but I’m sure word will reach Yahzen eventually.”
“Next thing you tell me, High Priest Rimmen will want to have a little chat with you.”
“I don’t doubt it. He and I knew each other when he was Premier and your father was High Priest. He very well might want to know what’s going on with the Dunsman clan.”
“And what will you tell him?”
“Perhaps I’ll mention your willingness to make staves fashionable again.”
Sulim cut in. “She’ll look quite fetching with one, don’t you think?”
“This reminds me,” Mira said before Ramaron could make a retort. “I know how we’re going to fetch the Relics. Let’s go over it as soon as everyone is back from their other demands.”
“Whatever you say, chief.”
Mira dismissed her fatherly figure with a flick of her fingers. “You would do well to show me more deference in the future, Master Marlow. In fact, I insist. It would lend quite a bit of credibility to me in this place.”
This time, it was Ramaron who wasn’t sure if she was joking. Neither am I.