Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [64]
“Yes.”
The Magria studied her, critical and still angry, but finding new shades of meaning in what had transpired. Anas was making no excuses, no justifications. That meant there was no deceit involved.
“You did resist.”
Anas nodded, looking troubled. “With all my strength. I know it is forbidden to share a vision. I know the dangers.”
The Magria narrowed her eyes. Yes, Anas knew the dangers very well. Her predecessor had been a fool who let driving ambition overcome caution. She had interfered in several visionings, until the day one of them killed her. Watching a visioning occur unveiled, yet resisting the temptation to share in it, was the final stage of training for a deputy. Until a sister passed successfully, she could not be considered a true ally, or an eventual successor to the Magria.
Anas had always been levelheaded and intelligent. She let patience temper her ambitions, which was the foundation of wisdom. She had much potential, and the Magria liked her.
If Anas said she could not resist, then that meant she had tried very hard. She must be afraid, although she hid it well. The Magria studied the deputy and found the skin around her eyes a bit tighter than usual. Her serenity was impeccable, but proving hard to maintain.
Satisfied, the Magria ceased to blame Anas for the mistake. The vision had been extremely strong, and that meant they had little time in which to act.
She glanced at the exit that led back to the sanctum. “Are they waiting?”
Anas shook her head. “I dismissed them. You have been unconscious for nearly six hours.”
“Ah.” More evidence of the power of this vision. And its truth. The Magria walked back into the sanctum, feeling the grit stick to the salve that Anas had smeared on the burned soles of her feet.
Anas followed, carrying a robe folded neatly over her arm. The Magria ignored the unspoken hint. She was not yet ready to be clothed. Robes were artifice and concealment. She wanted to think without either restriction.
Climbing the dais on legs that remained weak, she sank onto the stone chair with a faint sigh and frowned at the sand pit below.
All lay quiet. The candles had burned out, leaving the sanctum plunged in shadow. Anas moved about without haste, lighting fresh ones. Only cold ashes remained of the fire. The serpents had been left in the sand pit. They were ordinary brown snakes again, restlessly seeking prey.
The Magria extended her hand, and a small pale mouse appeared on her palm.
She released it into the sand pit. The snakes sensed it at once and turned. The mouse scampered back and forth in increasing panic, then froze, whiskers quivering, as the first snake reached it.
We are mice, the Magria thought, turning her gaze away from the creature’s destruction. Our time is dwindling quickly.
She stared at the mutilation scars on her arms, remembering the past when her old dugs had been firm and ripe, when her body had been strong and young, when she had felt the five powers coursing through her, sustaining her where she had no wisdom.
“Excellency,” Anas said softly. That one quiet word revealed her worry.
The Magria turned to her. “No, I am not slipping back into the void,” she said wearily. “Fear not.”
“You are troubled.”
The Magria pushed aside her emotions. “Stop hinting. I shall tell you soon enough. I must.”
Anas betrayed herself with a tiny smile. She had always possessed poise beyond her experience. And now that the Magria had not reprimanded her for having shared in the visioning, it seemed her natural confidence was returning.
She said nothing else, but she was waiting. It was her place to be told first, ahead of the sisterhood. She would expect the whole truth, not just part of it. That was her right, as well as her responsibility, for being the deputy.
But the Magria had no intention of sharing everything. Until her fear was mastered, she did not dare.
“At last, I have been shown the future of our world,” the Magria said. “The world approaches ... chaos.”
Anas blinked. “This is hardly unforeseen,” she said impatiently. “Death is coming