Prelude to Fire: Parts 1 and 2 (22 page)

Cyrus shrugged. “Maybe gentle is wrong, but you are too soft with it. Fire does not do well with soft. Issa does not care for soft. That is why we have the testing.” He shrugged again. “You passed, or you wouldn’t be allowed here, so I maybe I’m wrong about both.”

Lacertin thought about the way that he shaped fire and wondered if maybe Cyrus was right.
Was
he too soft with the shaping? The fire shapers of Incendin were certainly harder than him, and they used it in ways that he hadn’t considered. He would never have attempted to have fire crawl along his arms. He would never have considered using fire like clothing. Even with what Cyrus did, the way that he sent it spiraling away from him, practically whipping it, Lacertin would never have tried. Did that make him weak… or ignorant?

“I’m not sure that I know how I passed.”

Cyrus smiled again. “It’s not something you can know; it is only something that you do. Issa decides whether you will pass or not.”

“And if Issa were to decide that I couldn’t shape fire strongly enough?” Lacertin asked.

“Then you wouldn’t be here.”

Lacertin smiled. Hadn’t the priest made it clear that he wasn’t a captive? Maybe he had meant he wasn’t
their
captive, but what if they thought they served Issa by holding him? Would he be allowed to leave if he chose not to serve?

He tried the shaping that Cyrus used, and this time, he pushed more harshly. The shaping held the wrapping much like it did for the young shaper, spinning around his arm. This time, Lacertin grabbed tightly to the shaping and kept it from burning his shirt. It simmered for long moments before he pulled it away and sent it whipping from him, much like Cyrus had done.

When it worked, he smiled again. It was a shaping that had no real use, but one that he never would have managed before. What use was there in holding fire burning closely along your skin? Or in using it like a whip? Fire had uses, even those that Cyrus had seemed bothered by, but there was something pure about simply shaping because he wanted to shape, in using fire because he wanted to use it, and holding onto the shaping simply because he could.

Cyrus clapped him on the back, and Lacertin lost control of his shaping. “See? That was better. You held it differently then, didn’t you?”

Lacertin nodded, forming the shaping again, this time holding fire against both arms. His skin didn’t burn and the clothing didn’t burn, and a smile spread on his face.

As he looked up to Cyrus, he noted Alisz watching him, her dark eyes narrowed. Lacertin released the shaping, suddenly reminded of the reason that he’d come to Incendin.

He turned away from her and stared at the flames, wondering how he would ever find what he needed to know.

Maybe there wasn’t an answer. Maybe he would
not
learn what he wanted. And maybe the priest was right: that he would learn what he needed instead.

L
acertin stood
in the center of the archives, the table that normally took up most of the space pushed out of the way. His arms were outstretched, trying to coax the flames he shaped to continue burning not only along his arms but also down his legs. Intense heat from the shaping made him wonder whether he would be able to withstand it much longer. His control had improved, but this shaping was about more than control. There was a part that required a willingness to join with fire and the ability to ignore the heat.

Considering all the time he’d spent confined in the cell, he would have figured that he could handle the heat better than he did, but maybe that was part of the problem. He had been freed for… he realized that he had lost track… several days, maybe weeks… and in that time, he had grown accustomed to his freedom. The time spent trapped in the cell had toughened him in some ways, and now he had grown soft.

He released the shaping. The flames sputtered for a moment and then disappeared from his arms and were drawn into the stone below him.

“This is not the place for practice.”

Lacertin spun, worried that he’d angered the priest, and instead saw the dark-haired shaper behind him who looked much like Alisz. They had the same sharp angle to the jaw and the same intensity to their eyes; only, this woman had a hint of warmth in them as well. She watched him with almost amusement in spite of the admonishment she had given him.

“I needed to get out of my room.”

She sniffed. “I see that.”

Lacertin looked at the rows of shelves around him. What
had
he been thinking, using this space to practice this shaping? Had it gotten out of control, had he lost even a little of his composure, he might have set fire to all of the books here. As much as he didn’t want to help Incendin, he hated the idea of destroying all of this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have—”

She cut him off with a shake of her head and waved for him to follow.

In the hall outside, he expected her to lead him back to his room, or perhaps guide him to the priest to tell how stupid he had been. Instead, she took him to the door at the end of the hall and twisted a long key in the lock. Stairs ran up on the other side and she took them two at a time. Lacertin hurried to keep up, meeting her when she reached a landing.

He had yet been to this part of the Fire Fortress. Leading off the landing, a wide hall opened in a circle. A series of doors was closed. The woman took him to the nearest and opened it.

Lacertin hesitated. There was something here that reminded him of his testing cell. He had been out of it long enough that he didn’t want to return, and he didn’t want this woman to torment him again.

But she hadn’t forced him, had she? And unlike the other shapers, she seemed interested in the books in the archives.

Lacertin entered a wide stone room. There was nothing else in it.

“Here is safer,” she said.

“What is this place?”

“This is where devotions can be given to Issa. You should not make such devotions where so much can burn, Lacertin Alaseth.”

He suppressed a laugh. “I didn’t learn your name.”

“I have not offered it.”

He had learned that some within Incendin could be strange about names. The priest still hadn’t shared his name. Same with some of the fire shapers. Lacertin had learned Alisz because of Cyrus, and he’d learned Cyrus because another shaper had used his name, not because the man had offered it to him.

The woman leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You intend to watch?” he asked.

“You would rather I didn’t?”

Lacertin shrugged. It didn’t matter to him if she did. The shaping that he would work was not nearly as complex as some that he’d seen from the Incendin fire shapers. He was only trying to copy, not demonstrate anything that might be dangerous to the kingdoms. Even if he did, he suspected the shapers of Incendin had already mastered them.

He pulled on the shaping, wrapping himself in fire.

This time, he pulled with more force and tied it with more focus than he had before. Fire surged along his skin all at once, not creeping outward from his arms and his legs as he had attempted previously. He managed to maintain control, but only barely, somehow finding a way to hold the flame from burning through his clothing and leaving him standing before this woman naked.

He held the flame for a while and then released it, letting it flow back into the stone.

He decided on another shaping, this time using the ropes of fire that Cyrus had used, but trying something different with them. Instead of wrapping them around his arms and legs, he created a spiral of flame along the stone, holding it in place with the shaping. Once content that the shaping would hold and that the flames were arranged as he intended, he pulled the coils from the ground, lifting them into a circular spiral around him that ran from the ground to the ceiling.

Lacertin smiled at this shaping. It was something that he would never have tried before, something that had no real purpose, but there was beauty in the way the flames crackled.

He released this as well, letting it surge into the stone.

What would he try next?

One of the challenges with fire was shaping it into stone. Here in the Fire Fortress, where he felt the heat and surging energy all around him, even in the stone, he wondered if he would be able to do something that he had not managed before.

Using a combination of fire and earth, he wrapped the shaping together. Such a shaping was difficult, as earth normally resisted the connection to fire, but he fused them, pulling—or rather, forcing them—together. When the shapings joined, Lacertin directed it toward the stone. Not to cause damage, at least that wasn’t his intent, but to see if the new control of fire would make a difference with his shaping.

With a circular pattern, he sent the shaping into the stone around him, much like he had with the last shaping. This time, when it reached the stone, because he had fused earth with fire, it sank into the rock with a steady
hiss
, almost as if melting the stone.

“What are you doing?” the fire shaper asked. She had stepped away from the wall and reached for him, but was hesitant with the shaping in the stone.

Lacertin looked down and realized that he had burned a pattern into the stone, and released the shaping. It sizzled out slowly, the heat gradually fading before disappearing altogether.

He extended a finger, brushing the mark that his shaping had created. “It’s never done that before,” he said.

The fire shaper’s eyes narrowed. “First you try to destroy the archives—”

“I didn’t—”

“—and then you manage to burn through the stone. What are you doing here, Lacertin Alaseth? What do you think to do in the Sunlands?”

He shook his head and stepped away from the shaping. The woman knelt in front of it, and a shaping built from her. It took Lacertin a moment to realize that it wasn’t fire.

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her around to face him. “You’re not a fire shaper.”

She jerked her hand back and held it out to him. Flames danced in her palm much like the demonstration Cyrus had used. “Do not presume to know what I am, Lacertin Alaseth. Not when you have come to my home and make every attempt to destroy it.”

“I haven’t tried to destroy it!”

“Ignorance should not be an excuse.”

The flames in her hand disappeared, but Lacertin felt another shaping, though this time he was less certain than before. He could
almost
feel the draw of a wind shaping mixing with her fire.

Could it be that she didn’t know?

Or maybe he was wrong. The shapers here had a different level of skill than he did. It was possible that they used fire in ways that he didn’t understand, and ways that only made it appear that wind shaping had been added.

“Show that to me again,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed, and the hard expression she shot him again reminded him of the other fire shaper, Alisz. “I think it is time that you return to your room.”

She stalked away and didn’t say another word as she led him back.

* * *

L
acertin knew
a surge of relief when the priest appeared that evening with a tray for his dinner. As he did most nights, he set it on a table in front of Lacertin and took a seat next to him. These were usually quiet times, a time when Lacertin wanted nothing more than to avoid lectures from the priest. Tonight was different.

“Who is the shaper who comes to this floor?” he asked after the priest had settled.

The san settled back in the chair and took a deep breath, gripping the Book of Issa between his hands. He had pulled it from a pocket as soon as he’d set the tray down, almost as if the book would grant him strength while dealing with Lacertin.

“She seeks understanding, as I think you do, Lacertin Alaseth.”

Lacertin glanced at the tray set next to him. Carrots and potatoes steamed in a thick broth. The vegetables were staples in the kingdoms, but the way they were prepared here was nothing like what he had ever tasted before. His stomach rumbled—he’d eaten nothing all day as he tried to find a way to reach the shaper and failed—but he left it untouched for now.

“Understanding for what?” Lacertin asked.

The priest tapped the book on his lap. “The questions are different, but we all seek answers.”

“And hers? Are they similar to mine?” Lacertin thought he knew, especially if he was right and she had the ability to shape, but he wanted the priest to tell him.

“She has different questions, as I suspect you know.”

Lacertin leaned forward. The university had often wondered why other shaping ability never appeared in Incendin. There should be no reason that it did not. Places like Doma, where water shaping was common, still produced shapers of other elements. The most powerful wind shaper Lacertin had ever met came from Doma. Why should Incendin be any different?

Most claimed it had something to do with how Incendin was closer to Nara, and mostly fire shapers came from Nara, while Doma was more like the kingdoms. Lacertin didn’t agree, especially since
he
had shown that the ability to shape more than only fire could come from Nara.

“She can shape wind,” Lacertin said.

The priest hesitated. Lacertin rarely had seen the man at a loss for words. Usually he had a platitude about Issa and how Issa provided guidance, but Issa was their god of fire, and if this shaper had other abilities, then she would not solely be under the domain of Issa.

When he spoke, he did so hesitantly. “Issa has given her a different path.”

“She shapes fire, too.”

The priest nodded.

“And the others?” When the priest didn’t say anything, Lacertin went on. “When a shaper demonstrates abilities in more than one element, the others will follow if they have not already. She is a warrior shaper.”

“She is not of the kingdoms,” the priest said softly.

Lacertin sat back, suppressing a smile. As dangerous as it would be to the kingdoms to have a warrior shaper of Incendin, finding her meant that Incendin shaping was not unique, that regardless of what the lisincend could do, there were connections to that of the kingdoms. “You are a scholarly man,” he noted.

The priest glanced at the Book of Issa and looked up to meet Lacertin’s eyes. “There is value in understanding before acting.”

Was that some sort of threat, or was it more of an accusation? “The ancients had abilities felt more advanced than what we possess today,” Lacertin said.

“They were said to be quite powerful,” the priest agreed.

“Many of those shapers could speak to the elementals, and learned from them.”

The priest waited.

“In the kingdoms, we understand that the ability to speak to the elementals has been lost. And if not lost, at least it is hidden.”

The priest ran his finger along the surface of his book. “You are more learned than you were reported to be.”

Lacertin sniffed. What else did the reports say about him? Did they mention his solitude? Was that why the priest had befriended him? Did they mention his icy relationship with Theondar, the new First Warrior? That might be why he was welcomed. Or maybe there was more to the report, especially if Incendin had someone working within the palace. Could they know of the relationship with Ilianna, and how that had never matured? Was the priest placing the fire shaper in the archives as some sort of temptation?

“There is value in learning from the past,” he said.

“And that is what you would share with me?”

He shook his head. “The ancients had an Order of Warrior, different than what we know today,” he said. “They were said to serve the elementals in ways that we do not.”

The priest smiled. “Is that what you would do, Lacertin Alaseth? You would serve the elementals like one of the ancient warriors?”

“I do not speak to the elementals,” he said.

The priest exhaled slowly. “That one does not either.”

Lacertin noted that the priest didn’t deny others speaking to the elementals. Was there a different secret in Incendin that he could learn? That might even be greater than learning what happened to Ilton. Now that the king was dead, there was nothing that could be done for him, but rediscovering the elementals, understanding those ancient connections, that would be valuable.