Calin’s Tower, gentle reader, had been standing for more than a century and a half, by my mother’s time. It was situated then, as now, in Ellinsford, the capital city of Esca. While StormClaw was a tiny island, easy to hide without anyone missing it, Esca was the third largest island in the world and these days home to a united island nation, but it wasn’t always so.
The Tower itself was accessed by way of Red Street, which was neither red, nor a street. It was a narrow passageway, which forced the companions to walk in single file, Catriona taking the lead. My mother knew the history well and felt compelled to explain that the reference to the colour red came from the many bloody battles fought on this soil. In times past, there was a river running through Ellinsford which divided the city and island, both geographically and politically.
The river was called the Ellin – hence the name of the city – but according to myth, at the height of the conflict, it became known as the ‘Red River’ because it was stained permanently red due to all the blood.
In time, she explained, the climate changed, and the river dried up. With the river gone, the people extended the buildings on either side, so the street became a narrow passageway. Formerly, it was called ‘Red River Street,’ but over time it was truncated to ‘Red Street.’
No-one is sure precisely how the hostilities started, but they lasted, on and off for more than a century. What is certain is that it was perpetuated by ignorance. Both sides accused the other of committing atrocities, desecrating each other’s dead. Both sides vehemently denied the charges. It took a long time for the truth to come out and reveal the cultural misunderstanding at the heart of the conflict: Both cultures believed in a soul that escaped the body soon after death, flying out in the direction the deceased was facing when laid to rest. At this point, however, their belief systems diverged.
Those on the Eastern side of the river believed the body must be laid face up, allowing the soul to fly into space and explore the cosmos for eternity. If the body were laid face down, the soul would be trapped forever. Something that was viewed as sacrilege.
Those on the Western side believed the souls of their people were fragments of the soul of the world. From Tempestria they came and to Tempestria they must return, so the body must be laid face down to allow the soul of the deceased to become one with Tempestria once more. They believed that if the deceased were laid to rest face up, the disoriented soul would fly out of the body and become lost in space, doomed to wander for eternity, never to find its way home. To them, this was sacrilege.
During the war, then, each side in their ignorance, treated the enemy fallen according to their own customs, not realising how this would be viewed by the other side. Not until a third party got them to agree to talks.
Calin grew up in the latter stages of the conflict and when she chose this site for her Tower, dedicated to free access to knowledge, she decided to make Red Street the only approach to the main entrance. She encouraged people to learn the origin of the name of the street, recall the battles of old and realise the price of ignorance and misunderstanding. That suited her philosophy and indeed, the philosophy of the entire Order of Balance. Calin also thought it was appropriate since Red was the symbolic colour of the Balance as recognised by the Council. The red helped the Balance stand distinct and separate from both the Light and Dark orders, not merely a blend of the two. Their core philosophy being that power wielded in ignorance was dangerous, regardless of intent.
Calin’s interest wasn’t limited to magic. Her vast library was considered the finest in the world on any subject one might care to name. It was a researcher’s paradise. However, mages were her core group of patrons.
A law was passed to protect Calin and what she represented. To that end, she would always have the services of three mages called Custodians, one from each order. They were not just guards, but her personal staff, there to do what she could not. To maintain the balance, Calin swore a magically backed oath to never acquire power or use the knowledge of her Tower for personal gain. For example, suppose a wizard was researching a powerful spell. Calin could retain only the theoretical understanding of how it was done. A magical block prevented her from casting all but a few rudimentary spells.
Catriona finished her lecture with a sigh of admiration for this individual. As much as she valued knowledge and insisted ‘power isn’t everything,’ the idea of sacrificing the ability to use the things she learned was horrifying to her. She couldn’t imagine being unable to work with nature as she did, unable to use her pocket dimension magic. Perhaps worst of all was the idea of sacrificing her ability to shapeshift…
…My mother had no idea, gentle reader, that events were already in motion that would force her to do exactly that.
*****
The door to the callers’ office was opened by one of the many acolytes Calin hired to help run the Tower. “Is your Mistress available, please?” Catriona asked. “I have heard that she is seeking to increase her section on druid magic, and I’ve brought some contributions as a gift.”
“Yes, certainly,” the girl replied, “if you’ll come with me, I will introduce you.”
The girl led the companions through seemingly endless corridors. As they reached a pair of large wooden double doors, they heard a bell chime magically behind them. Without being touched, the doors opened to reveal a sizeable gothic chamber with a high ceiling and lit by magelights that gave the appearance of candles without the potentially disastrous fire hazard. Calin herself was a Faery woman of considerable beauty and noble bearing. Despite her age of approaching two hundred years, her hair was mainly night-black, with just a few strands here and there lightened to grey, which only increased the sense of wisdom one could see in her grey-blue eyes. Behind her, ever watchful, sat the three Custodians.
Calin rose to greet her visitors, a kind smile on her face.
“Welcome, my dears,” she greeted them. “My Tower is yours. If you need assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. Now, what’s this I hear about a gift?”
Catriona stepped forward and dropped to one knee, kissing Calin’s ring finger.
“Mistress Calin, I am honoured to meet you. I have waited too long.”
Daelen was stunned by this, and even Mandalee was unprepared, having never imagined Catriona Redfletching would kneel to anyone.
Calin seemed a little taken aback herself, saying, “Please, get up. I’m no hero that you should kneel to me.”
“I would not kneel to any mere hero, Mistress Calin,” Catriona replied. “You will forever be a revered figure in history, and it will be a privilege to one day tell my children that I met you in person. I am merely giving you the honour you rightly deserve.”
Satisfied, Cat got up and introduced herself.
“You are Catriona Redfletching?” Calin wondered. “I have heard of you. Your reputation is growing. There are formidable mages who respect and fear you. Tell me: how do you replicate Holy Water? I had a group of orthodox clerics of Light in here a few months ago complaining about your ‘blasphemy.’ They swore they were going to burn you at the stake if they caught you.”
Catriona smiled darkly. “Some of them tried. I granted them a visit to their god.”
*****
Rather than attack her directly, they had used their clerical magic to instil a kind of blind faith in the minds of a section of their congregation, including children. This effectively turned them into a cult that would fight Catriona even at the cost of their own lives. It had taken all of Cat’s ingenuity to restrict, snare and disarm her attackers. Pyrah not being with her at the time didn’t matter. They were linked no matter what. Besides, Cat had enough mental strength of her own to establish a sympathic link with one of her attackers. As a rule, she didn’t impose a sympathic link without permission, but under the circumstances, she decided it was warranted. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could read minds as such. But she could clearly sense the waves of hatred emanating not from them, but through them.
She would not impose her will on these people who were obviously being used. Instead, focussing on one man, she projected an overwhelming sense of ‘Freedom,’ encouraging him to break free of the conditioning. As soon as he did, the man told Cat he remembered everything and asked if there was anything he could do to help free the others, many of whom were friends and family. Cat urged him to keep thinking ‘Freedom’ in his mind. Not just the word, but the concept, the idea.
“Think about what freedom means to you,” she coached. “Focus on that and imagine shouting it at me without actually speaking.”
He did as she asked, which helped her to free the next one with less effort. Not every person she released added to her chorus. Some just wanted to go home, and she wouldn’t stand against that. Many did join her, however, and pretty soon, the attack was over, but Catriona was far from done. The druidess wanted to deal with the clerics at the heart of this assault. If she didn’t, they would just do it again to others, and their next attack might be something the druidess was less equipped to deal with. When she cornered the trio of clerics, she was resolved not to give them a chance to attack anyone ever again.
She knew that some of her past actions had ruffled feathers, to put it mildly, and her association with Dreya the Dark seemed to bring out strong feelings in some people. So, she had prepared. People who harboured a powerful hatred were usually absolutely convinced of their own rightness. Therefore, Cat had been working on a kind of sympathic version of her Nature’s Mirror. Taking the raw material of hatred in these clerics, her power reflected it. She turned their hatred back on them and redirected their sense of rightness so they would be susceptible to her suggestions. The more they hated, the more they snared themselves until Cat decided that since their Holy Water was such a vital connection to their gods, they should sacrifice themselves by drowning in it.
“I do this not out of hatred or malice,” she pronounced. “Not even because you attacked me. But because you robbed others of their free will; used them when they wanted no part of your vendetta. I do it to protect them and your future victims.”
They could have stopped it at any time. All the clerics had to do was let go of their hatred. Then they would be safe. But they didn’t. They kept on hating, and so they kept on believing Catriona was right when she said they should drown. And so they did.
The Council ruled that Catriona had acted in defence, to end a threat, and no charges were brought.
*****
“Their kind seeks to perpetuate ignorance,” Calin fumed, “and that is against all I stand for. I shall not mourn their loss.”
“Me neither,” Catriona agreed, “and to answer your original question, what the clerics call a Blessing is just a transfer of magical energy with a specific frequency. That can be analysed and replicated, just like any other form of energy.”
“Fascinating,” Calin acknowledged. “Now,” she continued, changing the subject, “will you introduce me to your companions?”
“This is Mandalee,” Catriona began, “a good friend of mine.”
It felt so good to be able to say that again after more than two years.
“The White Assassin,” Calin remarked.
“The what?” Mandalee wondered.
“Didn’t you know? It’s a title you seem to have picked up.”
Mandalee didn’t like it. “What’s next – the Red Druid? The Grey Wizard? The Purple Flower Arranger? I mean, I can’t be the only assassin who ever wore white or belonged to the order of Light. Unless there’s some rule that you can’t have more than one magic user of the same colour.”
“No rule that I know of,” Calin agreed, “and I would know if there were.”
Moving on to Daelen, she inquired, “And this young man would be—?”
“My lover, Dan,” Catriona lied quickly, moving close to Daelen’s side, taking his hand in hers and flashing him a loving smile.
Somehow, Mandalee had found a way to make sympathic kissing noises in Cat’s mind. The druidess made a supreme effort to rise above it.
Calin studied him carefully for a long moment, before saying, “A pleasure to meet such an interesting individual, young sir. This truly is a day for extraordinary guests.”
Before Daelen could think of a response, he heard her voice in his mind, ‘I know how to see through a perception filter, shadow warrior. Don’t worry, it’s working for everyone else.’
She turned her attention back to Catriona. “He is your lover, you say? I have heard rumours that you are in a relationship with a powerful wizard, though there is some debate as to who that is. I even heard one claim that you were romantically involved with Dreya the Dark.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the same rumours,” Cat answered simply, neither confirming nor denying it. Denial was often the surest way to make people believe a rumour was true. “Who knows how they start?”
“Indeed,” Calin agreed. “As if Dreya the Dark does romance!”
“Well, quite,” Cat replied, noncommittally.
“Besides, the Red Druid only has eyes for Dan. Right, Cat?” Mandalee put in.
Catriona ignored her in favour of talking to Calin. “Before I forget why I asked to see you, Mistress Calin, I should give you this.”
She produced a notebook from her pocket dimension and handed it to her.
Calin opened it, and her eyes lit up. “New druid magic. This is exactly what I have been looking for. Thank you, Catriona.”
“As your knowledge is given freely, Mistress Calin, so is mine.”
“Only a slice of what you can do, I’m sure, but on a personal level, your respect for Faery custom is appreciated,” Calin accepted, “I’m delighted to know a half-human keeps one foot in her Faery heritage.”
“More like half a foot, if I’m honest. I’d like to do more, but time pulls me ever forward.”
“Indeed, your life, what I know of it, is ever the adventure, but before I leave you to your research, if you can spare but a moment, there is something I would like to show you.”
“You mean the Mystery of Calin’s Tower?” Cat asked.
“Exactly,” Calin affirmed.