Sightwitch, Page 2

  “Oh.” Ryber’s face fell, and I knew right away I shouldn’t have asked. I should have “practiced restraint” like Gran-Mi always taught me.

  “They tell me I will have strong Sight one day,” Ryber answered eventually. “Stronger than other Sisters. So I guess being with me is… special.”

  I wanted to ask her why her Sight would be stronger and why that made her special, but this time, I was smart enough to stay quiet.

  Poor Ry. I don’t like how worried she looks now.

  A BRIEF GUIDE TO THE SIGHTWITCHES Sister Toria Avé

  INTRODUCTION

  Sightwitches are not born; we are made.

  Welcome to the Sightwitch Sister Convent. After years of mentoring Serving Sisters, I decided to compile all the rules, orders, and requirements that new arrivals must learn, as well as all the questions they most often ask.

  To understand what life here will be like, you must first and foremost understand who our Goddess truly is. Her sleeping form beneath the Witchlands is not only the source of all magic but also the reason we exist. She is life; She is death; She is the ultimate creator.

  Many cultures have different names for her, but we know her by her true name: Sirmaya.

  The Sightwitch order was founded almost fifteen hundred years ago, when the first Sightwitches appeared in the Witchlands.

  At that time, there were no other witches save for the Paladins, whose duty it was to protect and maintain peace across the land. While those chosen twelve were born with magic, our Sightwitch magic is a gift gained simply by devoting our lives to the Goddess. Time spent inside the mountain on which we now reside leads to a buildup of Sirmaya’s magic, and ultimately the ability to see into the future.

  Over time, the Sisters have honed other talents with this unique form of magic. We have learned that a small cut beneath the ear of a corpse allows us to access the memories of the dead. Additionally, we have found that our own memories are thorough and infallible—every detail around us can be seen a single time and never forgotten.

  These three types of magic are what we now swear to protect each morning when we recite the Memory Vow, the Vow of Clear Eyes, and the Vow of a Future Dreamed.

  Ryber Fortiza

  Y18 D153 — 1 day since Tanzi was Summoned

  DREAMS

  I don’t remember my dreams. As usual.

  And I already miss Tanzi. It’s strange to wake up alone. Strange to write this without hearing her quill scratch nearby. Strange to sit in this cold space with no one asking, “Did you sleep well, Rybie-Ry?”

  Oh, it is true she will be back tonight, but her eyes will no longer be the dark brown of most Kritians. They will be silver.

  She will be clear-eyed. A true Sightwitch Sister.

  It is worse, though, knowing she will no longer be allowed to share a room with me. She will return from the mountain at the dolmen in the Grove, where all newly gifted Sisters arrive, and then she will move two stories above me in the Convent. She will have a new roommate, a new room, a new life.

  I cannot help but wonder if our Threadsister bond can survive that.

  A week after Tanzi arrived at the Convent, Hilga assigned us sheep duty with Sister Gwen. But Gwen fell asleep, the sheep wandered outside the glamour, and Tanzi and I got horribly, hideously lost while searching for them. Ever since that day of rain, cold, menacing forest, and unruly sheep, we’ve been best friends.

  Please Sirmaya, don’t let that change. I cannot take fake kindness from her. The gift of Sight changes everything. It digs a chasm between friends as wide as the mountain. As deep as the scrying pool from which the spirit swifts fly.

  And it happens every time. First there was Sister Margrette, then Sister Ute, then Lachmi, then Oriya. Fazimeh, Yenna, Birgit, Gaellan. They were all my friends; now I hardly speak to them.

  No doubt there are even more lost friends who I’m forgetting since I do not have the gift of Clear Eyes. Once seen, often forgotten. Once heard, usually lost.

  MEMORIES

  I wish I’d been the one Summoned instead of Tanzi.

  I hate myself for that.

  And just as I predicted, I was charged with clearing the mountain paths today. Summer has fully awakened in the forest that hugs the slope. The weak, fighting buds of spring that I saw last are now full leaves. Green, green everywhere.

  On a normal day, it would have made me feel better to be outside instead of cooped up in the kitchen. And on a normal day, Tanzi and I would have played the game we always played when no one is around to hear us.

  “What happens inside the mountain?” I would ask. Then she’d chime back, “What happens during the Summoning?” For hours we would make guess after guess, each more absurd than the last.

  I tried to play alone. To pretend today was no different from any other. To imagine what Tanzi might be doing right now. Yet it was a battle to come up with any clever answers—something as silly as what she might conjure. I gave up after only one try.

  “Maybe Sirmaya is not even real,” I mumbled, my arms full of fallen pinecones and branches. “Maybe we inhale too much bat droppings in the air, and it turns our eyes to silver.”

  The words tasted of ash. Especially because part of me wished they could be true. No sleeping Goddess. Just bat droppings and a spirit swift’s random choice.

  On my hike back to the Convent, I found the two newest Serving Sisters picking flowers off the path.

  I yelled at them. It wasn’t nice of me, and shame burns in my chest as I write this.

  “Rule 15!” I hollered as they dashed for the trail. “Never leave the marked path!”

  They tried to apologize the entire trek home, but I wouldn’t listen and I wouldn’t stop frowning.

  I bet they’re terrified of me now.

  Why do I always do that?

  Ryber Fortiza

  Y18 D154 — 2 days since Tanzi was Summoned

  DREAMS

  No dreams. No sleep.

  Tanzi has not returned.

  Hilga acts as if there is nothing to be alarmed about, but there is. There is. After a Summoning, a Sister returns on the eve of the following day. Almost always, she comes back.

  But I waited in the Grove for her all night, and she never returned. I sat beside the dolmen, within view of the slab that will slide back once she has completed her Summoning.

  Not once did the granite budge. Even Sister Ute and Sister Birgit, who sat gossiping beside the alders, grew alarmed by sunrise. Then Ute went off to find Hilga.

  Soon after, the Head Sister joined us, her expression grim—though she tried to act relaxed, regularly slumping her shoulders and breathing deep.

  I know her too well, though. I may not have the Sight, but Hilga was my mentoring Sister for the first six years I was here. Right up until she was named head of the Convent and then creaking old Sister Rose became my mentor instead.

  Hilga was scared.

  The four of us waited until the sun had fully risen.

  Tanzi never came.

  So of course, I did not sleep and did not dream.

  Where is Tanzi? What if she’s hurt? And all alone with no one to help her? There is no way for a non-Summoned Sister to get inside the mountain, so I cannot find her. No one can find her.

  Curse me. I must go to the observatory now. It is time for morning prayers.

  Please, Sirmaya, please. Show us where Tanzi is in the scrying pool. Or better yet, Summon me.

  I beg you to. Please, I beg you.

  MEMORIES

  Trina and Gaellan were summoned after the prayers today. No visions of Tanzi in the pool; just more spirit swifts.

  Two of them came for two Serving Sisters.

  I don’t understand.

  Ryber Fortiza

  Y18 D155 — 3 days since Tanzi was Summoned

  DREAMS

  No dreams and no sleep.

  Tanzi still hasn’t returned. Nor Trina, nor Gaellan.

  MEMORIES

  Three more Serving Sist
ers were Summoned today.

  What is happening? Why is Hilga acting so calm?

  And why why why has no one come back from the mountain?

  All Sisters enter the mountain two times in their lives. First, to receive the Goddess’s gift of Sight.

  Second, for sleeping.

  Sightwitches do not die. Instead, when our bodies fail us, we enter the mountain and Sirmaya enfolds us into her embrace. We sleep for all eternity, and the magic she gave us returns to her.

  None of us knows precisely how that happens, since Sisters who sleep are hardly going to return and explain it all. Yet we do know it happens to each and every one of us.

  Tanzi can’t be sleeping, though. Nor can the other Summoned Sisters. The spirit swifts don’t appear for that, and we sleep only when our bodies can no longer continue.

  So again: What is happening? I want to know where Tanzi is. I want to know that she’s all right.

  Sirmaya, I will give anything for my Threadsister’s safe return. Please, please, please.

  Tanzi Lamanaya

  Y16 D89

  Ry and I cornered Hilga after the midday meal today. We went to her office in the top of the tower, where no one could hear.

  Where Sister Rose couldn’t hear.

  “Please,” Ryber began before Hilga had even reached her chair. “Please be our mentor again. We know you have duties as Head Sister, but Rose is … she isn’t …”

  “She isn’t very good,” I said bluntly—exactly like Ry told me not to do. “She’s ancient, and she—”

  “She is the oldest Sister here,” Hilga snapped, dropping emphatically onto her stiff-backed chair. She was wearing her Stern Head Sister face. “Rose has more knowledge and experience than anyone else. You should be grateful she was willing to take over after me.”

  “But we want to learn more,” Ry pleaded.

  This was a half lie since I had no interest in learning more. That was really only Ryber. But I was dreadfully sick of Rose.

  She means well. Sleeper knows she does, but her Sight overpowers her most days—a common ailment for older Sisters and one of the reasons Sisters remain at the Convent their whole lives. It is too hard to live in the outside world with the Sight.

  These days, it seems too hard for Sister Rose to live in this world. She’ll forget mid-sentence what she was teaching us, and no matter how much Ry and I try to remind her, it’s rare that she’ll ever actually circle back to finish a lesson.

  Instead she always feeds us the same phrase, “You’ll understand once you’re Summoned.”

  It’s so thrice-damned frustrating!

  But my argument wasn’t nearly as compelling as Ry’s, so I let my Threadsister do the rest of the talking. She is the better orator, and also the more desperate party. Plus, the Rook was on his perch, and it had been a few weeks since I’d seen him last.

  The Rook is my favorite person at the Convent aside from Ry. And no, he isn’t technically a person, but he acts like one. I’ve never seen an animal that understands so much of what we say—much less one who insists we get his name right.

  It’s not Rook, but THE Rook. He’ll bite you if you get it wrong.

  “He belongs to the Convent,” Rose said this very morning when he swooped in during breakfast. “He is as old as the Crypts and will outlive us all.”

  “How is that even possible?” Ry had demanded.

  “You’ll understand when you’re Summoned.”

  That had been the last grain of salt to flood the sea. Ryber grabbed my wrist, and I knew it was time. Finally, we were going to beg Sister Hilga for a new mentor.

  After giving the Rook a few good scratches beside his beak (I love the way he purrs! Even the kitchen cat doesn’t purr with this much satisfaction), I honed in on the argument unfolding behind me.

  “Surely,” Ryber insisted, “not all questions must be answered with ‘You’ll understand when you’re Summoned!’ There must be something we can learn now. Fazimeh said she learned about the Standing Stones and the glamour spell yesterday. And Oriya said she learned about the Twelve and the origins of magic.

  “Tanzi and I are some of the oldest Serving Sisters here, yet we don’t know anything about these pieces of Sightwitch lore. We are woefully behind, Hilga. Please.”

  It was an excellent speech. Not that I was surprised. Ry could convince ice to melt. Still, I had to fight the urge to break into applause.

  As if sensing my delight, Ry glanced back at me with one of her sly half smiles.

  Her smile widened when Hilga huffed a sigh of defeat.

  “I suppose Rose is too old to be teaching.”

  “She is,” I confirmed, scooting toward the desk.

  “And I suppose, at your ages—how old are you now?”

  “Fifteen,” Ryber declared as I said, “Fourteen.”

  “Then yes, your educations should be further along.” Hilga fixed us both with a wince. “Do you really not know how the glamour spell hides the Convent from the rest of the world? Or how its magic is bound to the Standing Stones?”

  “No,” we barked in unison.

  Her wince deepened. “Then you indeed have much to catch up on. Here.” She shoved out of her chair, aiming for the wall of books behind the Rook. He fluttered with annoyance when she shooed him aside to pull not one, not two, but three massive tomes off the shelf.

  For half a breath, I regretted our decision to come here. MORE WORK was not really what I had wanted.

  But then I caught sight of the elation in Ryber’s dark eyes. Her fingers were clutched at her heart, a sign she was itching to pluck the books right out of Hilga’s hands.

  “Read these,” Hilga ordered, offering the books.

  As I’d guessed, Ryber snatched them up. She even gave a little squeal of delight.

  “Then,” Hilga went on, “once you have read them, I want you to come back to me for a list of subjects that you will be researching further in the Crypts.”

  I tried not to grimace.

  I hated the Crypts.

  “You will continue to meet with Sister Rose each day, and then once a week with me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I muttered, wondering how I was going to fit in time for my daily game of ring-ball with Birgit and Yenna. (Birgit has gotten very full of herself since she beat me last week. It’s intolerable.)

  Meanwhile, Ry bounced on her toes. So much excitement! “Thank you, Sister Hilga,” she breathed. “Thank you so much!”

  Then, as if she feared Hilga would change her mind, she grabbed my wrist and rushed me out of the office.

  Now, as I write this, she sits curled up on her side of the bed reading about the Twelve Paladins. Already, she’s halfway through the massive book—and already, she’s made notes to summarize it all, since she knows I’ll never crack open that ancient cover.

  Y18 D156 — 4 days since Tanzi was Summoned

  MEMORIES

  Six more Serving Sisters were Summoned today.

  I am the only pall-eyed left.

  Y18 D159 — 7 days

  MEMORIES

  Hilga allowed me to stay after the morning prayers today. I should have been excited. Never have I been allowed to watch as the Sisters pray for a Future Dreamed. Never have I seen the scrying pool come alive with images. All those years growing up when they told me I would soon be watching the pool with them … It never came to pass.

  But I wasn’t excited to watch today. My heart thumped painfully against my ribs, and sweat beaded along my brow.

  I was hot. So cursed hot.

  What if the pool showed a vision of Tanzi? What if I saw her hurt … or worse?

  I sat on the high ledge, where the telescope rests. It was the only place I could see into the pool, for all the Sisters had clustered tightly around it. They formed a spiral, Sister Rose at the fore, right on the rim of the pool, and then hand in hand, moving from oldest to youngest, the Sisters spiraled outward.

  I had just crouched upon the ledge, my blood roaring
in my ears, when the praying began.

  I expected a silent prayer, yet I had not expected for it to feel so … so BIG. Somehow the air in the observatory grew thicker and thicker, heavier and heavier, expanding in time to words I could not hear. It was as if by thinking in unison, each woman’s breath and posture and soul latched on to a similar cadence.

  All while the heat kicked higher.

  Show us something, I begged. Show me Tanzi. Though I feared seeing my Threadsister, I feared even more that I would see nothing at all.

  Finally, when it felt as if the room could grow no hotter, no hea-vier, it happened. An image formed in the scrying pool.

  It was the Rook, sitting on his perch in Hilga’s office. He groomed and fluffed and occasionally clacked his beak.

  That was it. Nothing more. For a minute, or perhaps longer, it was just that thrice-damned bird. There was truly nothing I could have cared less about. What did it matter if he hopped off his oak knob and flew out the open window? Where was Tanzi?

  Yet despite my rage at the vision, I found myself unable to look away.

  I couldn’t breathe either, and my heart boomed in my ears. The Rook flew ever higher. Now he winged over a pine forest. Now he dove low.

  The creature himself swooped into the observatory, landing mere paces from me.

  He surprised me so badly, I barely swallowed my yelp, and when I glanced back at the pool, the vision had shimmered away.

  Cursed bird.

  I hate him.

  Y18 D161 — 9 days

  MEMORIES

  Fourteen Sightwitch Sisters were Summoned today.

  This is impossible. Sightwitch Sisters reenter the mountain only for sleeping—and they aren’t called by the swifts then. They know from their dreams that it is time to reunite with the Sleeper.

  Each Sister the spirit swifts approached today looked shocked. Frightened, even. Yet no one dared disobey the Goddess. If She Summons, we go.