Tal seemed a little out of breath. “Craters, but you can move when you want to, woman.”
“It’s a big place. If you don’t run, you can spend hours getting from place to place. But I never seem to get tired here. Sorry I wore you out, though. Have some water. There’s always a pitcher on the table over there. I need to check the pool for messages.”
The reflecting pond had seemed so much larger when she was young. Now it didn’t look much bigger than a family-sized hot tub. Slender reeds swayed in the light breeze and a leopard frog blinked at her from a lilypad in the center. “I hope you don’t mind if I use your pond, Mr. Frog.” She always used to talk to the animals in the garden … partly because Mom had read her
Mother West Wind’s Children
too many times, and partly because Baba always told her that not everything in the garden was what it seemed.
“Do you often talk to frogs?” Tal’s voice sounded slightly amused. But he also vibrated with curiosity. Apparently, he’d decided to just run with whatever was going to happen here.
She sat down on one of the orderly gray stones that surrounded the pond and ran her fingertips through the needles of the bonsai tree that grew right to the water’s edge. It was far larger than a potted bonsai, but still tiny in comparison to even a shrub. She’d always loved this little tree and had marveled at the number of little woven nests among the branches. Viktor had told her they were hummingbird nests and each time she would visit, she’d check the nests to see if there were any babies. As tiny as the adults were, she couldn’t imagine the size of a hatchling. But despite the fact that they visited at all times of the year, she’d never managed to spot a baby.
Then she reached a finger out to the frog, twitching it in a friendly manner. But that was too much for the little amphibian. It stretched out suddenly and slid down into the water, parting it without a single splash. “Hey, you never know. Maybe that was Viktor, watching us to find out our intentions.”
Tal sat down on the carved wooden bench near the grape trellises. He reached out to touch the purple fruit, then lifted one of the bunches, as though testing the weight of it. “Not much danger of that … just so you know. While there are spells that can change someone’s appearance, there’s no such thing as shifting a human to another form—especially to something as small as a frog. Where would the mass go? A two-hundred-pound frog wouldn’t be able to sit on a lilypad, unless it was made of iron and bolted to the ground.”
She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I always wondered about that. But you’d think magic wouldn’t have to abide by physics.”
He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and let out a snort. “Wouldn’t
that
be nice. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about piping water to the cities. The water witches used to be able to simply pull the water through the soil, or raise it from the banks of underground streams and move it to fill the cisterns. But without sufficient magic, physics keeps the water just out of our grasp.”
“But
why
can’t you move it anymore? You said earlier that magic’s being rationed where you live. But how can that be? Magic is … well, just
there
, isn’t it?” She started to untie her left boot. It was soaking wet from the snow and she had to wiggle it to get it off her foot. Tal watched with interest but didn’t comment about it. Instead, he actually answered her question.
“The Trees of Life are dying. They’re the source of magic in Agathia. There’s a Tree in each major city square, but they’re
all
dying and we don’t know why. So the kings of the various realms, who are generally the most magically powerful, have elected to ration magic. Each person can fill up their personal focus stone, plus a general household focus, once per day and when it’s gone, there’s no more until the next day when you can refill it.” He raised up his hands and looked around. “That’s why this place shouldn’t exist. There’s not enough magic left in the world to sustain it. If it weren’t for the fact that some of these plants
can’t
exist without magic, I’d swear it was just a normal garden, and the owner just happened to get lucky and find a fertile cave with running water, near a volcanic vent for heat.”
She couldn’t help but shake her head. “Boy, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea. I mean, if all magic in the world comes from some weird species of tree, then why not just plant some more if they’re dying? It’s not like it’s oil—where there’s only so much of it and when it’s gone, it’s gone. Trees grow. They produce new seeds and the seeds grow … a never-ending supply. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“And yet it’s reality, much like this garden. Neither make much sense.” He finally pointed down at her pink cotton sock. “Is there a problem with your foot?”
She sighed and started to pull it off. “No. It’s just another thing that doesn’t make sense. I have to put my left foot in the pond to get the message to play … if there is one.” She paused, sock halfway down her foot. “And please don’t laugh. It’s not my fault.”
The introduction apparently made him curious, and how could she blame him? He leaned forward, eyes fixed on her foot.
Well, I might as well get it over with.
There’d been plenty of time over the years to get used to people laughing at it. But this wasn’t like the locker room in gym. She didn’t want Tal to laugh at her. Not after … well, she just didn’t
want
him to. Summoning up her courage, she tugged the sodden cloth off and wiggled her now-wrinkled toes. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
But he wasn’t laughing. He slid off the bench and knelt down next to her leg. He was careful not to actually touch her, but she could tell he wanted to. “Were you born with these? You have birthmarks for
every
guild, plus one I don’t recognize. What’s that one?”
He was pointing at the symbol just above her big toe. The series of triangles attached to a long line, was the largest of the marks … or drawings, which is how they started out. “I don’t really know what any of them mean. Baba painted them on my foot when I was about five. She just used regular egg dye. It was fun at the time—like getting my toenails painted. But they never came off. My mother’s been mad at her ever since.”
Tal touched the mark on her second toe. “So they’re ink? This oblong mark with the dots is the symbol of the water witches. The straight line with spikes that looks like a comb is the mark of the dirtdogs—the earth alchemists. This one here,” he said and raised his sleeve for her to compare his zigzag symbol with the vivid yellow one on her foot, “is the fire mage sign … although yours is complete, while mine is much fainter. The clarity of the mark is how magical strength is determined. While I’m an adequate crafter, the same symbol on Vegre is sharp and raised high above his skin.”
“Then what’s this one?” She pointed to the last mark, a short row of elongated curves. “These look like waves. Shouldn’t that be the water symbol, instead of the little blob thing?”
Tal shook his head. “Water, like earth and fire, gain motion by wind. That’s the flyers’ symbol, for the air illusionists guild. And I suppose this last one is the symbol of your own guild, the … Parask.” He seemed to struggle to say the word, but managed. Then he apparently finally got up the nerve to touch her foot. The sensation of his finger lightly stroking the skin over the marks felt
really
good. “It’s. odd. They don’t look like tattoos, but don’t feel like birthmarks. You’re certain these were
painted
on? She didn’t use a needle or magic to embed the dye under your skin?”
Mila pulled her foot out of his grasp, before the sensation of him stroking her skin made her forget why they were here. Already she was struggling not to throw him to the ground to kiss him and her heart was racing so fast that she should be able to see her shirt moving. Her voice had a breathless quality when she spoke. “Not—” She had to cough before she could speak again. “Not a needle, anyway. It never occurred to me she might have used magic, but I guess it’s possible. Anyway—” She spun on the rock and raised her foot to dip it into the water. “We need to get the message and get moving. Otherwise, I’ll never get any sleep tonight.”
He raked her from bare toes to the top of her head with intense, dark eyes. Then he shook his head and muttered something she couldn’t make out. She nearly asked him to repeat it, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Still, he backed up a bit to give her room to move. She hadn’t done this since she was eight, and hoped she remembered how it worked. She slid her foot into the water. Not even breathing reached her ears for a long moment as they waited for something to happen. But the water remained still and warm. Mila shook her head. “I think I’m forgetting to do something. I’m still struggling to find things in my mind—” Frustration edged her voice and she wanted to scream. There wasn’t
time
to forget things. “Hello? Viktor, are you there? It’s me, Mila.” Another pause, but still nothing.
She tapped her knee and stared into the still pool, desperately trying to remember back to the last time she visited. The memory came back so suddenly, and so strong, that she nearly fell face first into the water. She saw again her foot, much smaller—the symbols far larger than her toes. She twisted her foot, this way and that, watching as tiny fish came up to nibble on them. She felt a little bored, but had been assured that her foot was very important to the process. Then she heard Baba’s voice over her shoulder and the identical words came out of her mouth in the present. “I am here, Viktor. We must speak.”
A small glow suddenly lit up swimming fish from underneath, turning them Day-Glo colors. Her foot started tingling and she remembered that, too, a familiar pins-and-needles sensation like stepping into a hot bath after a long day in the snow.
“So, it requires both will and
specific
words. A useful safeguard.” Tal was nodding his head, watching as the light grew brighter under the water.
It soon encompassed the whole pool, and then the water disappeared from view. In its place was a clear image of another cave—this one decorated with brightly painted murals and comfortable-looking furniture. “Greetings, Mila. You’re looking well. And what a beautiful young woman you’ve grown into. You remind me much of Nadia when she was your age.” Viktor looked like he hadn’t aged a day since she was eight. His ruddy face was smiling, showing a dark space where one lower tooth was missing. He had a ring of tidy white hair under a patterned headband that had been very trendy when she was a girl. His neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard made his eyes look even bluer. They were darker than Tal’s though and she found it odd that her mind was occupied with noticing it.
“It’s good to see you again, Viktor. I’m hoping you can help us out. We really need to find my Baba. Did she come to see you here … maybe with a young girl and her father?”
Tal moved down to whisper in her ear. “I thought you said this was a
message.
Are you actually talking to him?”
She wiggled her hand back and forth and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a little of both, actually. It’s sort of an interactive message. He’s there, and can answer questions we pose, but he’s not
really there
, that we can go off target from what it’s programmed to say. But he’ll be able to watch it later to see our expressions and hear what we said. So it’s recording as well as playing.”
“Interesting.” Tal leaned forward to stare at the image and was looking carefully around the background of the scene. Maybe he was trying to figure out where it might have been recorded.
“Who’s that there with you, Mila?” The recorded Viktor’s eyes narrowed slightly and it made her wonder if it really was a recording, or if he was sitting there live.
She looked at Tal and he shook his head. Just once, but she understood. If Viktor wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information, then neither was Tal. It was common in corporate negotiations, so she was no stranger to handling it. “This is a friend of mine, Viktor, from Rohm. I didn’t think you’d mind if I showed him your lovely gardens.” She turned her head and raised her brows, encouraging him to give some sort of compliment.
He caught the meaning and nodded quickly. “Oh, yes. The gardens are beautiful. I’ll have to mention to my mother that you have purple allurias. They’re her favorites and these are splendid ones.”
Whether recording or live, he was very proud of his flowers. The comment soothed him and his face relaxed into conversational lines once more. “Please, feel free to take one to your mother with my compliments. But I must ask that you not reveal where you came by it. I’ve gotten very used to my privacy.”
Tal nodded, but his face looked odd, like he wasn’t sure what to make of Viktor. He smiled anyway. “Of course. As you like.”
“Viktor, have you heard from Baba … from my grandmother Nadia?”
There was a pause while Viktor looked off into space, as though looking behind the camera for instructions. “Nadia is here, with me. We’ve brought Suzanne and Tim to a place where she can be healed. It’s better if you don’t know where we are. You have more important things to be concerned with right now.”
Tal apparently couldn’t help but interrupt. He leaned forward, eyes flashing. “I beg to differ, sir. There’s nothing more important than ensuring that
Tin Czerwona
doesn’t become a pandemic over two worlds. You seem to be old enough that you were there for the last plague. You must remember why it’s so important that—”