Oracle (Book I)

Shepherds of the Forgotten Night

"A 'basic level 'advanced'' lesson is so contrary," Bossa griped.

It was evening and Caprice, Bossa, and Nezzle were doing homework in their room.

"It's a basic course that shows you how to build on simple spells and such." Nezzle's muffled voice came behind a book.

"I'm glad that you're in one of my courses, Bossa. Is it so bad?" Sitting at the foot of the bed, Caprice was practicing levitating her slippers. Sans incantatem and sans wand was all about focus, intent and direction, style, and physical motion, or lack thereof. Caprice feathered her hands up and down, side to side, thinking only of directing the tingle in her fingertips at her shoes. They roses and fell, drifted to and fro at her hand's orchestration. It had taken over an hour to get through all the reading and she was relieved Nezzle seemed to want to help even though she had her own work to do. She was happy to be working a spell now, something she was perfectly capable of doing on her own.

"Its not that I don't want to have a lesson with you." Bossa flounced backward into the pillows where she was sitting on the bed. "It's embarrassing, being held back because Earithean doesn't like me. She's failed me three years in a row."

"What!" The slippers she was levitating tripped over each other and rolled sloppily, nearly hitting her in the nose. It wasn't possible that Bossa was that bad in lessons, surely. All Caprice had seen of her was evidence to the contrary.

"I take Basics and Magikorigyn with Earithean. She still tutors me in advanced stuff but I can't sit in the advanced lessons until I pass Basics. It's not my fault. I keep telling her: I'm not a witch! I'm a blood drinker. My powers work differently. Damn it!" She slapped her arms hard against the bed.

"Maybe she has a reason," Nezzle said. "It doesn't feel like she's against you."

"Sure. She delights in humiliating and torturing me—that's the reason."

"I still suspect that it's affectionate teasing," Nezzle replied.

"Keep dreaming, Nezzy. It's hate. Dyed in the wool hate."

Yawning, Caprice let her slippers fall on the floor and got up. She took off her gown, peeling away the sleeves until she wore only her shift. She wasn't sleepy but figured she'd better go to bed early to get up in time for breakfast tomorrow morning. Maybe we can eat outside again, she thought.

Nezzle's brow jumped as she caught sight of the straight, white scars covering Caprice's arms, shoulders, and back above the cut of the shift's bodice where it didn't cover her skin. "Oh." She winced. "Battle scars. How did those happen?"

Wrapping her arms around herself and wishing desperately for sleeves again, Caprice looked away from their stares.

"Punishment."

"For what?"

"Breathing."

Caprice looked down at her arms. Some of the scars were brighter while others were thin and fading. Some were short and others were long. The ones she settled her gaze on formed an X just above the bend of her elbow.

"I must look like a cutting board." Neither of them said anything while she remembered the horrible searing pain like ice spreading from each cut every time. The fevers and retching from the sickness. "They're made by coating a cutting ruler in blue iris venom. That's the venom of a white snake that has a bright blue spot on its head. Mama always tells me and my brother to stay clear of them. They're deadly, see. The spot on the snake's head sometimes looks like an eye and the blue is really pretty though... Anyway, the wounds might heal if there isn't much venom on the blade but the skins scars and... Karrigan always..." She trailed off, feeling awkward for going on like that. It was the first uncomfortable quiet she'd had with her new friends. Now she was wished she'd never taken her gown off. Not with the lights on anyway.