The Daylight War. Peter Brett V.

      ‘Place your hands on the floor,’ Qeva said. ‘Let the tears fall free, lest they run through the pencil and rob you of the sight.’

      Inevera immediately fell forward, terrified of losing this precious gift. Her tears spattered the stone floor, sending tiny whorls through the magic drifting up through the ala. She expected derision from Melan and the other girls, but there was only silence. Doubtless they had all been as overwhelmed as she when they first saw Everam’s light.

      When her convulsions eased, Qeva dropped a silk kerchief to the floor and Inevera carefully dabbed her eyes. The other girls stared silently at her as she rose.

      Qeva pointed to a stone pedestal, its smooth surface carved with dozens of wards, some covered in smooth stones. Inevera had seen the dama’ting use the pedestal to control light and temperature in the chamber, but the pattern was far too complex for her to comprehend.

      But now, her eyes awash in Everam’s light, she could see the power as it moved through the net. The pattern that had been a mystery a moment before was clear now, a child’s puzzle easily solved.

      ‘Dim the lights,’ Qeva commanded. ‘We will not need them for this lesson.’

      Inevera immediately complied, shifting the polished stones to other positions, and removing others entirely, setting them in a small basin.

      Immediately the wardlight dimmed, but Inevera’s vision only sharpened, an unneeded glare removed, allowing her to see even more clearly in Everam’s light.

      ‘The wardsight will be invaluable to you as you learn our craft,’ Qeva said. ‘It is forbidden only in the deep cells of the Chamber of Shadows where you carve your dice.’

      Months passed, and Inevera’s studies consumed her. She woke to sharusahk, assisted dama’ting in the healing, and attended regular classes in history, warding, potions, jewellery making, singing, dance, and seduction. The other girls continued to shun her, especially once they saw her carving wooden dice years ahead of many who had been born to the white.

      And every night, Melan beat her, calling it sharusahk practice. Even after half a year, Qeva was not sufficiently pleased with Inevera’s sharusahk, and Melan was still denied the Chamber of Shadows.

      Each night Inevera slept alone with nothing save her Evejah’ting clutched to her breast as the other girls whispered to one another in the darkness, or shared beds and caresses. Even her dreams were haunted by the shapes of the seven dice that had ruled her life since the day of Hannu Pash. She would have wept, but for fear that Melan and Asavi, always together in the bed next to her, would take pleasure in the sound of her sobbing.

      Inevera stood proudly as Kenevah inspected the large bowls. There in the sand Inevera had drawn the most complex circles she had ever attempted. Each was made of forty-nine wards, all linked to work in unison. Between the bowls lay her practice box, a single ward drawn at its centre.

      The wards were crisp and clear in the fine yellow sand, but Inevera’s warding had never truly been tested, and she had no way of knowing if they would hold power.

      Qeva stood beside her mother, regarding the wards but saying nothing. She didn’t have to. That she had thought Inevera worthy to test for hora after less than two years spoke volumes. Next to Qeva stood Melan, her face serene as her eyes cut at Inevera.

      At last Kenevah nodded. ‘Draw the curtains.’ Inevera did as she was bade, and the Damaji’ting drew a large demon bone from the thick velvet of her hora pouch. Inevera wondered how much Sharum blood had been spilled to collect that bone.

      Inevera made a cradle of her hands, and Kenevah placed the priceless bit of alagai hora in them. It was the first time she had ever touched demon bone, and though the Evejah’ting had told her what to expect, it was still an alien feeling, tingling with power and pulling at her blood as a lodestone might pull iron.

      Carefully, reverently, she laid the bone atop the ward centred between the two bowls, and the wards began to glow softly, brightening as they drew power from the bone. They flared with a golden light even as the sand darkened in colour. The circles began to swirl. At first was a slow churn Inevera thought she was imagining, but it grew faster, like whirlpools in a cookpot after vigorous stirring, flowing into one another in a figure of eight.

      The demon bone disappeared into the centre of that vortex, and there was a bright flash of light before the bowls went black. Colours danced before Inevera’s eyes in the darkness, leaving her dizzy and disorientated.