Chapter 19 Magic
Magic
It was around midday when Elizabeth made it to Veridas. She had taken surprisingly few wrong turns thanks to Caspian’s book of maps.
She eyed her saddlebags guiltily. She would return the book, eventually.
Elizabeth left Buttercup in the city stables, tossing a copper to the stable hand.
She traipsed into the streets of Veridas, looking for a witch.
Two wrong turns, and about an hour of searching later, she found the witch’s shop. A bell chimed as she pushed the door open and was greeted by the sharp scent of sage and eucalyptus.
The witch was seated with another client, a young woman with dark hair and pale skin, marking her as Arborian. Draped in finery, the young woman’s face showed rapt attention. A silly rich girl, hanging onto the witch’s every word as she was being read her fortune.
When the witch nodded at her in acknowledgement, Elizabeth nodded in return and stepped out of the shop to give the two of them some privacy.
She had been that same woman once, but she felt older now.
Like the blanket of naivety that had covered her whole life had been removed.
The world was not bright and full of colour anymore, but bleak and full of gray.
Every time she was afraid, every time she was unsure where her next steps would lead her, her soul turned a shade darker, and her heart felt a little wearier.
The young woman—who had looked at the witch with her eyes full of hope, blissfully unaware of the monsters that lurked in the shadows of her kingdom—seemed childish, comparatively.
The dark-haired woman soon left the shop and smiled at her as she passed. Shame wrapped around Elizabeth in a vice at her immediate dismissal of the woman.
The witch ushered her inside, gesturing for Elizabeth to have a seat. Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and smiled brightly at the witch, just to prove she was just as kind as the woman before.
“What’s your name?” the witch asked her.
Elizabeth realized she didn’t know the witch’s name. The witch sat forward in the chair, her fingers bearing gold rings steepled together as she studied her.
“We’ve met before.”
“I recall, but I didn’t get your name then, did I?”
“Elizabeth.”
The witch raised her eyebrows. “No family name?”
“Not anymore.”
“Ooh. Not anymore, she says.” The witch leaned in, grinning wickedly. “Disowned? For what reason, I wonder?”
“I am not here to discuss any of those things,” Elizabeth stated clearly. “I am here to ask a few questions.”
“Well, my name is Risna. I hail from Israr. Ask your questions, if you dare.” Risna grinned, as if she enjoyed introducing herself so cryptically.
“I have come for information,” she began.
“Information? But why have you come to me?”
“Because … You are a witch. Are you not?”
“That’s an accusation in these times, girl. I peddle fortunes and knowledge.” The woman examined the nails of her gnarled hands.
Elizabeth took that as a yes and waited, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She knew the woman was a witch, and the woman knew that she knew she was a witch.
After a moment, Risna extended a hand with her palm open. “For ten gold nobles, I’ll answer your questions.”
“Two,” Elizabeth countered. “They are not difficult questions.”
“Four. If you were not desperate, you would not be on my doorstep,” retorted the witch, reclining in her chair.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened over her coin purse. Four gold nobles were far more than she was willing to spend, but desperation decided for her. Relenting, she slid the coins over the counter.
“Tell me—tell me about magic.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” the woman said sharply. She looked around the room before leveling a scrutinous gaze at Elizabeth. “Magic is all-encompassing, and it is illegal even to discuss.”
“Then I will state my questions more plainly. What is a witch?”
“A witch is a woman gifted in the magical arts.”
At Elizabeth’s crestfallen expression, Risna chuckled.
“And how … did witches come to be?”
Risna peered at her as if she had finally asked an interesting question. “A witch is the offspring of a demon and a mortal. Witches are descendants of demons, which is where we get our powers.”
Elizabeth let out a breath and folded her hands on the table. “Can only witches have magic?”
“Demons obviously have magic too. In rare cases, a human might have some kind of magical gift. No one should be practicing spells, of course, since it’s illegal. So, this is all hypothetical information,” Risna said, fixing Elizabeth with a piercing stare.
Despite her witch lineage, this woman was human as far as Elizabeth could tell. She had no claws, no sharp teeth, no black, depthless eyes.
Elizabeth chose her next words carefully. “What does magic look like?”
“You say the words to a spell, then something happens,” Risna said drily.
“Well, yes, but what kind of words? What are things that can happen?”
“Ancient language, girl, not spoken anymore. That’s the language we use for magic. The words direct the spell.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it has always been so!” Risna rose and returned with a heavy tome.
She opened the book, showcasing a curling script with accents above some of the letters.
Elizabeth recognized it immediately as the same script that many of Caspian’s books were written in. “Some people call this the Godstongue.”
“Okay, so someone says something in an ancient language and casts a spell for something to happen. What kind of things is magic good for?”
“Everything, girl. Magic is energy. You could levitate objects, heal the sick, and transform one thing into another. You could manifest flame, water, fire.” Risna gestured towards the windows and raised her brows meaningfully. “Or protect yourself from demons.”
Elizabeth glanced at the windows and was surprised to see etched runes along the wood surrounding them. The doorway bore similar markings.
Protection against demons sounded … tempting.
“But then,” she asked, trying to make sense of what she’d learned, “if magic is limitless, why don’t those with magic use it for everything? Why would someone with magic ever pick up a plate or light candles by hand?”
“Because magic requires energy. It would cost as much energy to magically light a candle as it would to get up and light it with your hands. And! Most importantly, if the cost of the spell is too great, it will kill the caster.”
“What?” Elizabeth blanched.
“Yes. I’ve seen a novice try to move a boulder much bigger than they were from far away.” Risna shook her head grimly. “The magic took everything they had, and they are no longer here to tell the tale.”
She winced.
Risna inclined her head. “Indeed.” She surveyed her with raised brows, waiting.
Elizabeth asked hesitantly, “You said humans can have magic? The literature says only witches can have magical powers. My interest is purely academic, of course…” Elizabeth trailed off, squirming in her seat.
The witch snorted. “Academic, is it?” Risna searched her face as if the answer to the question in her head would be written there.
“Whether you’re asking for yourself, or a friend, I doubt these questions are purely academic.
” She smirked. “Humans can also harness magical powers, but it is not an ability that can be learned.”
“Could you tell me more about them?”
“Humans with magic are very rare. No one really knows where they came from or how they came to be.” Risna paused.
“There was once the Seraphine, a group of highly powerful human magic users that specialized in fire magic. They were used by the kings and queens of old on the battlefields and to frighten their enemies. They have long since died out, though. They were the most powerful group of human magic users that I’m aware of, but they were hunted into extinction before magic was even outlawed. ”
Elizabeth leaned forward. “Hunted into extinction? Why?”
“No one trusted a king with a human mage who could burn them to ash in the blink of an eye. The Seraphine is long gone now, but they did exist.” Risna paused. “Now, human mages still exist, but my understanding is that they are not especially powerful.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “But how can humans have magic when you’ve just told me witches gained their power from demon sires?”
No one in her family had magic. She would have known if they did. Her father had backed most of the anti-witch legislation the queen had put forward, and both her mother and father had been adamantly opposed to anything that could be even remotely tied to magic.
“A good question. No one really knows. Some witches believe that angels are to blame. That just as demons have dabbled with mortals and left a trail of the magically gifted, so, too, have angels. Some believe that human magic users were individually chosen by the gods and blessed with certain powers.” Risna shrugged. “A mystery.”
“But then, wouldn’t those mortals who have magical gifts be called witches?”
Risna pursed her lips. “No. A witch is knowledgeable about the arcane arts. Human magic users have no coven and don’t share our knowledge or history. I would call a human with magic either a human magic user or a mage. I wouldn’t call them a witch.”
“I meant no offense, of course. And what about witches? Why do some have magic while others do not?”
“It depends on how diluted their bloodline is, or how powerful it was to begin with. If their demon ancestor lived hundreds of years ago and wasn’t very powerful, they may not have as much magical blood anymore. It is the way it is.”
“And … I, er, read somewhere that if someone has magic, they can read minds. Slip into someone’s thoughts.”
“Read that, did you?” Risna chuckled. “Reading someone’s thoughts is a difficult and inexact art, even for those of us with magical blood. But it is by no means special. All of us can do it, and even a handful of mortals can learn, if they have an aptitude and a good teacher.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Is it possible to be a witch without knowing you’re a witch?”