The Carnelian Way

15

A routine developed. In the morning, Rina rose, bathed and breakfasted. Throughout the day, figures appeared on the upper walkway in robes of red, umber, blue and that one man hidden behind a black hood who came alone. Visitors began to appear: male magisters and promising acolytes, noblemen and the odd wealthy merchant. The men walked with the Denese women in the gardens, played games with them on the low tables, and shared meals. They came back, again and again, to call on their chosen partners.

The dark, handsome lord came to visit Anat each day, blue eyes intent beneath his thick lashes. Her face lit up when he arrived. Crows feet stretched at the corner of his eyes when he laughed with her. If not for the way she reached out and touched his arm or the way he tucked stray wisps of her curls behind an ear, Rina might have imagined he was a doting uncle.

A handful of the Chosen was selected two days after the first forsaking and taken to training rooms to be tested in the Carnelian Way. Their skills had been assessed in Amadore, but it had been through subtle observation paired with the review of their bloodlines. This time it was more overt. As if before they'd been observed through a telescope, and now were examined under a microscopic lense.

"Close your eyes and imagine the pattern in your mind. Do you have it?"

Rina nodded at the grey-haired magister, who stood before them.

"Now take your loom, and as you weave, hold that image. Imagine it sits in your chest, and it flows down your arms to your fingers and out into the threads. Don't think about what your fingers do. Just trust them to do their work."

Having done very little weaving in the past, Rina was sceptical of the instructions. They spent an hour reviewing the basics of weaving—which Mehdi, a weaver, had been vocally opposed to. After a stern word from the ageing magister, he'd shut his mouth, and protested with loud thwacks of the beater. When they moved on to a complex weave, still using the same blue and white thread each had been allocated, a smug smile had crossed his face as the rest of the group mumbled and groaned.

"I said, close your eyes."

Rina closed them. A design formed in her mind, one that mimicked the movement of the ocean as the Crystal Queen had cut through it on their journey. In her mind's eye, fishes darted, and a dolphin leapt beside the ship.

"Begin."

She began to move on the peddles, moving the waft and pulling back the beater, imagining a stream of power flowed through her fingers and arms. But the picture in her mind shifted, swirling through her mind's eye. It started slowly, then spun faster and faster until it expanded from sea and foam and became a whirlpool, sucking her down.

She landed on bleached bones. They crunched as she shifted her feet. She heard the sounds of shouting and turned to where a small fleet of ships moored behind her. Strewn across the sand were countless snapped beams and broken sails.

"What's he doing?" someone shouted.

"He's gone to the citadel—to see if it's still standing. To see if the King lives."

"The fool. Of course, the king didn't make it."

"You know prince Mai."

"King Mai, now."

Rina turned to look up the hill to where a figure in black moved up the slope. She grabbed the material of her dress, cursing the frivolous purple silk, and began to run. The sun beat down, and she sweated. Her thin slippers slipped as she raced across the bones, and winced as pieces jabbed through her shoes and into the soles of her feet. Part of her thought she should be sickened by them, but she'd seen them in her dreams before.

The bones clinked and clattered as she ran, but she barely seemed to move. Bit by bit, the citadel grew before her, but she was too slow. Eventually, she glimpsed two figures on the top of a rise, a man dressed in black bent over another in blue, and she thought she made out yellow light streaming into the black-robed man's mouth.

As she continued to run, the man in blue dissolved into dust before her eyes. The man in black stood, a twirling crown surrounded by a cloud of green rising before him and settling on his head. He lifted into the air, hovering over the ground, his arms outstretched.

Rina gasped. His bright blue gaze locked on hers and he lowered to the earth with the crunch of a mandible. He smiled at her. Her body turned hot, then cold. Then the world was ripped away from her on another swirl of colour.

The air left Rina's lungs in a painful whoosh as she hit the stone floor hard.

"What now?" grumbled the magister, winding his way through the looms and stepping around her stool, now lying on its side. He stopped before her. "Are you simple, or—"

Propping herself up on an elbow, Rina rubbed her head.

The magister had stilled, his arm extended and palm out, signalling for Sara, who'd rushed over, to stay where she was. His eyes, though, they were elsewhere. They stared at the loom. At the woven fabric.

Sara turned her head from Rina to see what he looked at.

Stools scraped as the others in the room stood to gather around.

"What?" Rina asked, feeling faint, dizzy and confused.

"You're a freak!" hissed Mehdi.

"Stop that!" said Sara.

Mehdi's eyes cut at Sara like daggers. "Well, she is."

Rina crawled to her knees, wincing as her right hip and knee were forced to move. A couple of people moved to the side, giving her wary looks as they cleared plenty of room. Her head reeled, so she put her hand on the beam to pull herself up. Sharp pain in the base of her heel took all her attention until she saw it.

There, in spite of starting with only blue and white thread, an intricate and colourful tapestry had been woven. One depicting a bay with a cluster of ships, and scattered wrecks across the shore. Beyond them, a woman in a purple dress raced up a hill of bones toward a black-robed man with a golden crown on his head, a pile of blue cloth at his feet and a crumbling citadel behind him.

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A/N: Hi guys, thank you again for reading. Sorry, it's a quick one—it's been hard to write this week. I'm not sure why. Hopefully, I will write myself out of this block. I can't wait to get this first draft done so I can circle back and start fixing everything that needs to be fixed. 

If you enjoyed it, flaws and all, please consider pressing that star—you'll help me with my confidence. Also, if you have the time, any suggestions / pointed-out areas of confusion would be appreciated. 

Jas oxox