Mother of Magic

Long-Term Witch Plan

Ava looked extremely pleased with Stephanie's question. "Witches despise Incaps who insist on being independent of us. No. That is not correct." Ava paused and restarted. "Some witches despise Incaps who resist Witch so-called 'help'. I do not. I respect those who wish to rely upon themselves. Stand up on their own. To a point. That can get silly, especially in cases of emergencies. The point being I do. not force my help upon anyone, nor do I charge for it when I give it. I was given a gift of enough power that I do not need worldly things from Incaps in order to get my help." Ava shrugged here and looked a little sad. "Sex not freely given is not sex worth having. Charging servitude, especially sexual servitude, makes me ill. I have brothers and sisters who are more secure in themselves that do not charge either. Render help freely. The majority of the witch community, because of resentments from the past, dislike any Incaps that resist them. Especially when such non-magical communities gather together and build 'Safe Harbor' towns, like Collins. They dislike them for so very many reasons. That intolerance of people who merely want to not be dependent upon Witches and our ability to use magic was the final issue that forced me out of the temple. Forced me to stop being a Reverend Mother in the church, even with all the rank, privilege, and positional power of that. That kind of power: An entirely different kind of power than access to Magic, was sickening. One power conferred the other. Being magically powerful allowed one to have a rank like Reverend Mother, and other similar tiers. Very few without Magical power ascend to such a level. It takes someone gifted in politics and building coalitions if you do not have the raw ability. Fear of power or fear of someone's access to power is usually required for promotion within the church. A single person with power, or a person with a coalition of like-minded and like-powered witches. Competence is measured in magical capability."

Ava splayed fingers across the bodice of her dress. "I needed no help to rise to that pinnacle of church power. My magical gifts spoke for themselves. The Mother had been very kind to me in that way. I am not being immodest when I say that I am one of the most gifted in magic in the world. That match of any three witches together in the temple. This is a mere fact. Power of position came with access to magic and the knowledge to use it that was above others."

"Lest you think me immodest, there was a young woman, who recently joined the church, that was ambitious and powerful. She is easily, in terms of raw access to magic, my second. With me being gone, I am sure she has ascended the ranks quickly. She is the perfect example of today's witch: Powerful and able to use it to maintain positions ruthlessly. Had she challenged me for my position, I would have had to take her down. Possibly kill her. Definitely expel her."

"Queen Bee. One per hive." Le commented.

"Yes. Does not have to be a queen though. Men can be every bit as powerful and ambitious. I digress." Ava gestured at her dress, from shoulders to skirt hem, as if that demonstrated something.

Stephanie assumed that perhaps Ava would have been dressed differently were she in the garb of a Reverend Mother, but had no idea what that uniform of station might be. The Pope always dressed differently. Priests of all kinds wear robes. Or weird collars. Something to set them apart. At the hospital where she met Le, Clergy of some kinds dressed the same way as any civilian but usually wore a little brass name tag. Not with their name but the word 'Clergy' on it. Or if it had their name, it might be preceded with the word 'Reverend' or there might be a comma or a second line after their name that said 'Pastor' or 'Minister'. One particular man who had roamed the hospital had a rather large, Stephanie thought oversized, brass name tag that had his name preceded by 'Doctor', followed by 'Th.D' Ph.D.', and then, finally on the second line, 'Minister of the Faith'.

Stephanie had avoided him like the plague.

Even without a preacher haircut, his self-importance flowed in palpable rivers off of him. This man had pursued trying to get a meeting with her with annoying frequency. Stephanie had enlisted aid from nurses at the ward to give her foreknowledge of his visits. She did not know what he wanted. Stephanie assumed he was trying to get a donation. Perhaps align with her name to use it for some purpose of his. Something self-aggrandizing she was sure. Worst case, he might be trying to save her soul. Add a new line to his nametag. 'Saver of Sports figures eternal souls.'