The feeling in the chamber began to ebb as if it were water draining from a tub. As the Medium dispersed, the spell broke. The mice and rats scrambled with chaos and fled the turret down the steps, cascading over each other like pond waves. Maia started when several tried to leap onto her lap, but she shooed them back into the avalanche.
Maia tried to calm herself, touching first her heart and then the jeweled choker around her neck. She gulped down huge breaths of air, waiting for her nerves to calm.
“To use the Medium, one must be able to control their thoughts and emotions,” the chancellor said. He shook his head. “You are not ready yet, Maia.”
A pang of disappointment stabbed her, and she tried not to grimace. “Not yet?”
He scratched his cropped whiskers, making a scratching sound. “You are still young, Maia. Years of turbulent emotions lay ahead of you. Wait until you are say . . . thirteen, hmmm? Turbulent emotions aplenty then! No, I will let you read the tomes, even though it is forbidden, but I cannot trust you with a kystrel until you are much older. The old Dochte Mandar failed because they used the kystrels’ power unwisely. The maston tomes have taught us the proper way to use the Medium, and we must ensure that kystrels are only wielded by those who will not abuse them, whether intentionally or not. You, my dear, are not yet ready.”
Maia sighed deeply. She wanted a kystrel. She wanted to prove she could be trusted with one. Many maston families could still use Leerings to invoke the Medium, but for reasons no one understood, mastons had grown weaker with the Medium over the centuries. The only way to channel real power through the Medium was by using a kystrel, and kystrels were only used by the Dochte Mandar. Still, Maia was not ungrateful for her rare position and her treasured secret.
None of the girls of the seven realms were allowed to learn the secret art of reading and engraving. That was a privilege only allowed to boys and men. Because of something done in the past, something related to the Scourge that had destroyed so many people, women were not trusted to learn how to use the Medium by reading ancient tomes, and it was absolutely forbidden for a woman to be given a kystrel. Some women, because of their lineage, were strong enough in the Medium that Leerings obeyed them, and that was considered acceptable. Those women could become mastons. Women could be trained at abbeys to speak languages, learn crafts and music, but nothing more. Except for Maia, and she knew that it was because her father was the king, and he made his own rules.
Maia uttered a Pry-rian epithet about patience.
Walraven scratched his beard again. “You must have inherited the Gift of Xenoglossia from your ancestors, child. How many languages do you speak now?”
“Dahomeyjan, a little Paeizian, and our language, of course,” Maia replied, sitting up straight and smiling broadly. “I can read and scribe them all. I wish to learn the language of Pry-Ree, my mother’s homeland, next. Or the language of Naess. Which would be better?”
“You are only nine, child. I find Naestor particularly excruciating. There are too many runes to memorize.” He tapped his finger on the polished golden tome in his lap. “You must never let on that you can read, Maia. I would be put to death if my brethren of the Dochte Mandar discovered our secret.”
Maia twirled some of her dark hair and gazed at the chancellor with concern. “I would never betray you,” she said gravely.
He smiled. “I know, child. The Medium broods on me. You are destined for great things. I think it is quite probable that you will become the Queen of Comoros someday.”
Maia felt a spasm of dread. “What about my mother’s confinement? Do you have a premonition of evil about the baby, Lord Chancellor?”
Walraven combed his fingers through his wiry gray hair. “I will always tell you the truth, Maia. You were the firstborn, a daughter. By law and custom, you cannot rule even if there are no male heirs. Your mother has had three stillborn children after your birth.” The words sent another shudder through Maia, and a terrible surge of guilt nearly strangled her. Still, she did not cry. Her father had once boasted to an emissary from Paeiz that his daughter, Maia, never cried.
“Was it my fault?” Maia asked in a calm serious voice.