With access to my essence, new horizons opened up to me in terms of what I could do. And at around the same time, I received literal new horizons with the departure of Icole and the older children to their boarding schools.
Not that I was pleased to see him go. For one thing Opiha was sad to see her brother depart for months, not to return until summer. For another, he had more time for we younger children than our older cousins did.
But with his departure there were calls from the main manse for children to carry out simple tasks - fetching and carrying for guests, for example. Tepet Demarol entertained on a grand scale and having children of the household attend on the most favoured guests was something of an honour he could bestow.
Besides that, it acquainted us with the habits of the dynasts and patricians who made up high society both in general and in specific identifications. None of the chores were onerous - we were still small children after all, but it was well within our scope to carry a scroll from one guest room to another, or to guide someone unfamiliar with the estate. Honestly, minding our manners was more of a challenge.
Naturally this meant that we were no longer confined to the children's courtyard. You can't guide anyone unless you're familiar with the area, so we received both tours and license to do some exploring.
I felt so very liberated, even if it was only within an area a mile or so across. I had some independence at last! I could spend some free time alone or almost.
It would have been suspicious to overdo it, of course, but I'd found a spot at the bottom of the garden where no one really went - nothing special, just a plot of land near the compost heaps. The garden staff had a regular schedule for dealing with that, so as long as I only went there in the afternoons, I could have some private time and actually get some practise in.
And boy did I need it!
Not only had it been years since I'd actually done any martial arts beyond the very very basic training we were now getting at last, but I had an entirely new body with very different proportions from what I was used to.
I was beyond rusty, so I was glad that no one could see me trying (and failing) at some of the most basic elements of Crimson Pentacle Blade style. It was one of the most forgiving supernatural martial arts in some respects, with very little essence required - which was good given my paltry reserves and control. Unfortunately, it was also quite demanding of the body and…
Well, I was maybe half the height and a third the weight that I had once had.
In full form, I'd cleaved through an entire circle of necromancers with this art. But right now, I might as well have been attempting the mighty defensive charms that allowed champions among Dragon-Blooded to resist the compulsions of the Anathema, charms that required levels of essence that most Exalted simply never attained.
It would be embarrassing if…
"Look, Doreg, Alina's trying to dance!"
...it would have to be Hunt, wouldn't it?
Turning I was just in time to see Doreg's blond head pop up over the hedge next to Hunt's face.
"It was ever so funny," the older girl declared.
I huffed. So much for today's practise. The brats would pester and distract me for the fun of it and this was hard enough with full focus. If I was past the initial hurdles then that might make it worthwhile, but not at this stage. "What do you want?"
"Dance for us!" Doreg cheered.
"I'm not a puppet, Doreg."
He made a face and scrambled down, running around to the entrance to this part of the gardens. "Show me, show me!"
"Why should I?"
He looked around and then reached into the compost, pulling out a handful of wet soil. "If you don't then I'll wipe this down your dress and tell Ishah you were playing in the mud!"
...he would as well. Doreg was bright himself, and easily bored. He was far from above getting someone into trouble if he thought they were keeping something fun away from him.
"Just try it!" I ran at him on my still-stubby legs and feinted to one side. He almost fell for it, but then realised I was going to get around him on the other side and brought the handful of mud around -
Just in time for me to swing my arm up in a block. The compost went flying past me without making contact but then I was past him. Hunt dropped down to block one way so I went the other way, out into the garden. It was better than trying to avoid two children with more reach than I had in confined lanes and passages.
"She's getting away from you!" Hunt taunted.
"Come back and dance!" called the boy as he gave chase.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen. The famous Bookwyrm, put to flight by a pair of six-year-old children. But the downside of the comparative freedom we had now was balanced by painful consequences if we were caught misbehaving.
There were no guests this week, Demarol was visiting one of the neighbouring estates for a banquet, but that meant that there was much less chance of someone turning up that the others wouldn't dare hound me in front of.
The two of them were faster than I was, too. I had to rely on cornering to keep ahead of them and if they worked together effectively…
"You go left, I'll go right!" Doreg called.
Teamwork! Admirable, if it wasn't being directed at me!
Okay, I thought as I looked for a way out. I needed to use my brains to get past them. Outsmart them. What did I have that they didn't? What were my advantages?
Well… they had me cut off from the exits to this part of the garden, but…
I ran along the hedge that broke the garden up and scrambled under it. My tunic picked up a little dirt but nothing like the amount that Doreg had threatened me with. And it was fairly dry. The two of them probably couldn't follow me – I'm smaller than them, after all.
Now I had the time to get away, even if it was just a brief opportunity until they'd realised that I'd escaped this way.
As it turned out, I barely got around the edge of the ornamental maze before they were on my trail.
"What are you doing?" Nalan sat on the branches of an apple tree, part of the impractically tiny orchard that separated the maze from the private garden backing onto the manse itself.
"I -"
"Nalan!" shouted his twin. "Catch her! Cut her off!"
I made a pleading look.
Hunt's voice cut across the orchard, "Don't be a wimp, Nalan!"
The grey-haired boy scowled. "I'm no wimp!" He dropped off the branch, scrambling down and blocking me from exiting the gardens.
"You're a dumbass!" I snapped and turned sharply to run into the private garden. I wasn't actually forbidden from going in there and perhaps one of the Exalted would be there and act as a restraint on them.
Unfortunately, no one appeared to be present at the moment, despite the basket-woven garden chair and table set out with a tray full of treats near the middle.
The private garden was neither particularly large nor especially ornate, just a hedged-in piece of well-tended lawn and some flowerbeds with two paved sitting areas dug down to perhaps knee depth with carefully placed stones around the edges where people could sit. It was a reasonably clever use of the geomancy requiring a depression in those places although personally I'd have gone with ponds, given the manses' hearthstone was clearly a Kill-Hands Gem, enhancing one's martial arts.
Water, you see, is associated with most martial arts. I'd have used this garden for my practise if it wouldn't have drastically enhanced the chances of my activities being noted as not dancing but an unapproved form of martial arts.
The Immaculate Monks got decidedly shirty about styles that they didn't teach and therefore theoretically control. They'd almost exterminated the Blessed Isle's sub-style of Crimson Pentacle Blade style until I took it up and started teaching it. I assume that her Scarlet Majesty had called them off, since continued persecution would have been disruptive to the rather delicate diplomacy between the Realm and the northern lands.
Unfortunately, the only other exit to the private garden than the one I'd come in through was into the manse and we very definitely did not have permission to enter that.
I considered trying the same trick I'd done before and going under, but unlike that hedge, this one was holly and there wasn't much more than two inches of clearance under it. I'm not that small. Over was also out - the hedge was higher than my head and would have been even if I had my previous height.
So that left…
I ran to the chair and tried to hide behind it. It wouldn't work – you could practically see through it – but it didn't have to work. It just had to fail convincingly.
"I see you!" Nalan shouted triumphantly as he entered the garden. Doreg was right behind him and the twins split up automatically to outflank me coming around the chair from both directions.
I didn't run though. I grabbed the bottom of the chair and heaved.
It was heavy but not unmanageable since the design meant that it was hollow. And all I needed to do was tip it over.
There was an almighty crash as the chair fell over right on the table and knocked that over, spilling the tray of sweets and cookies all over the grass. Hunt, about to enter the garden, visibly thought better of it and ran for her life.
Inside the manse there was a startled cry and the sound of feet. I had just a moment more to set the scene and so I dived onto the appalled Nalan, sending him stumbling into the mess as my shoulder hit him below the ribs and set him off coughing.
"What is going on here!" an outraged voice announced the presence of the most powerful current resident of the estate.
And now for my secret weapon: crocodile tears. If my stupid infant body insisted on crying at everything, I would use it to my advantage.
"Waaah!" I cried, sobbing dramatically. "It's not Nalan's fault! Doreg PUSHED him!"
Tepet Yrina stared at us, at the ruined food. At the upturned furniture. The locks of hair not secured by her tiara blew in a wind that touched none of us. "And what, may I ask," she said silkily, "Were the three of you doing here in the first place?"
"Alina's -" Doreg tried to defend himself but I cut him off.
"H-H-hunt said there were s-s-sweeties," I wailed and snivelled pathetically. "I'm sowwwy!"
"Hunt, hmmm?"
"But I didn't…" protested the older twin.
"Shut up Doreg." The Dragon-Blood brushed him aside and picked up Nalan with no visible effort, laying him out on the grass in a more comfortable position. "Are you having trouble breathing, grandson?"
Nalan was red-faced. "Uff-uff," he panted. "Nuh, no?"
I sniffed and sobbed, but otherwise stayed silent, letting my adoptive mother draw her own conclusions. She was not, it must be said, one likely to spend an excess of time on a matter of children squabbling.
Once, twice, her hand whip-cracked across Doreg's face – carefully calculated force to humiliate and pain him without doing any serious damage. "You are not allowed to roughhouse with your brother. If you cannot heed these instructions then you cannot be trusted with other matters," Yrina told him flatly. "You are confined to the children's courtyard for a month."
He opened his mouth to protest but then visibly reconsidered.
"And since the rest of you children value sweets and other treats so little as to trample them into the dirt," she added. "I see no need to provide them for any of you children for that same month."
Her gaze was scathing. "Stop snivelling, Alina. Show some dignity."
I sniffed and let the tears and other signs of distress fade convincingly into repentance. "'m sowwy."
"Then show your repentance by being better," the Exalt spat. She eyed the mess on the ground and shook her head. "I am disgusted with all three of you. Four," she amended. "Hunt as well. Whatever convinced you to believe some tall tale she told you?"
Servants were called to take us back, the twins glaring at each other and at me. I pretended not to notice.
"This is all your fault," Nalan whined when we were left alone under the willow tree after Doreg was marched off to be handed over to Ishah first.
I gave him a little grin. "Doreg confined for a month while you aren't? Say thank you." I could manage 'th's now, mostly.
The boy paused and blinked. "Huh." I gave him a look and he sighed. "Thank you, 'Lina."
"You're welcome." Hopefully Opiha would blame the others for no sweets, not me.
Some six or seven months after that glorious dumping of blame on Doreg, it had mostly been forgotten by everyone but the participants. Children will be children, after all.
A month of as much separation as I could engineer had split the twins remaining ties though, leaving Doreg and Hunt allied with each other against myself and Nalan. A bemused Opiha was only too pleased to exploit being the swing vote in any decisions made by we children, reaping bribes from both sides even if I'm not sure which side of the tale she believed to be true.
While having an ally made it considerably easier to get along in the hothouse of the children's courtyard, that didn't change the fact that I was hitting a wall when it came to my advancement. I had to face the facts: until I was more physically mature, I wasn't going to make more than incremental improvement in Crimson Pentacle Blade or in the more approved martial arts I was re-learning. It was useful to continue to build my foundation, but it wasn't going to be an equalizer if I needed to use something now.
And I hated how helpless I was at the moment.
Being a sheltered child is all very well and I didn't recall any events in Juche Prefecture that would endanger some of the most pampered children in the world… but I hadn't been in any position to be aware of such. And even if none happened, the simple fact was that if I didn't exalt my future was going to be even more constrained. I needed to be ready for that, because my best – if vague – estimation was that I had maybe two chances in five of Exalting.
I'm not a gambler. I'll stake money – or lives – on my skills, or others' bad habits. And I've done so with great success over the years. But factors entirely outside my control or ability to predict… ugh.
That left more obscure martial arts as my best form of security. The sort of arts that no one would be able to predict or see coming. And they needed a deeper grasp of my essence than I had.
The extent of one's essence scales in various ways. I really had no more than any other mortal or some of the weakest of spirits. Objectively, the fact I could touch it at all put me at a huge advantage once I could apply it usefully, but that depended on long practise. And it wasn't enough for anything esoteric.
Terminology varies, but in general there are ten stages of spiritual development in mastering one's essence: the five mortal plateaus and the five immortal courts. I was on the first step, having just barely crossed the threshold of the lowest mortal plateau when I touched my essence for the first time. For what I was working on, I needed to move on to the second plateau.
An Exalt could move to the second or even third mortal plateau with very little effort. It was one of the things that made them so incredibly dangerous. For a mortal, that could be the journey of an entire lifetime. To go beyond that was, despite the name, not really attainable without ceasing to be mortal somehow. The highest mortal plateau was named that solely because it was the greatest height that more spiritually awakened beings could reach within a mortal's life.
I didn't really fancy waiting for decades. So, I needed a short-cut, something to give me an advantage. And the delightful thing about growing up in a dynastic household was that there were goods and tools around that might just provide that.
There were risks, of course.
Firstly, no one was going to let me take them. So, I'd have to steal them. But the heaven's look fondly on those who are bold and daring. (Quite literally. Those who tend to the loom of fate have a long, thankless task and are happy to reward those who provide for something more exciting for them to oversee than another day of farming or making the same simple goods over and over again).
Secondly, if I made a mistake then I could wind up dead or crippled.
I really wouldn't let any child of mine – or just in my care – attempt this. So, I'm a hypocrite to do it myself; but to be fair, at least I know what I'm doing.
I might have a child's impulse control as well. It's hard to say how much that's affecting me.
The night I was waiting for was the third of an extended gala hosted by the Tepet Demarol household. For more than a week, the estate was inundated with guests from other families – every Great House was represented, more than half of them by Exalted and the others by rising mortal relatives who were trusted to represent their betters in important affairs.
The result of this was of course that the servants were being worked hard keeping up with the demands of lavish hospitality and entertainment. Almost everyone was working late and while the sun had long since set, hoarded light crystals and expensive fireworks turned the evening into something like day.
We children had played our parts earlier but no one actually expected us to be around as the evening turned towards some more mature entertainments. We'd been seen and recognised as potential future members of House Tepet, names and faces to be remembered when marriages were discussed in ten years or so and that was the main thing.
And thus, as even Medra was nodding off in her chair in the nursery, I was waiting.
I'd taken a nap earlier, missing the main dinner. That was excusable since Doreg and Hunt were serving as cupbearers to Demarol and Yrina respectively. The household was aware of the divisions among the children so keeping Nalan and I away from that was something they were happy to arrange. No one wanted a spat among children to mar the occasion. (Well, it might have amused some of the guests, but it would have humiliated my adoptive parents in public and that would have had serious repercussions).
Poor Medra was getting visibly older. Her hair had gone from steel grey to almost the same shade as Opiha's, while more lines were drawn in the skin of her face.
I climbed out of my bed on soft feet and watched the elderly woman to see if she reacted. There was no sign of anything, but I couldn't assume anything. Picking up a spare blanket that was ready in case any of we children started feeling the cold, I carried it over to her and draped it over her. I couldn't reach her shoulders, but it covered her lap and she didn't wake.
Good. I'd swapped her evening cup of wine for something a little stronger that Usha had set aside for herself. The younger nurse wouldn't be able to make anything of it if she did catch on – she wasn't supposed to have the flask of reinforced wine in the first place.
The tunic I wore to bed was a very dark blue, chosen for this reason. I tiptoed to the doorway and quietly slipped on some similarly shaded pants and slippers. Sliding the door to one side I peeked out and waited for a firework to cast light across the children's courtyard.
The shadow cast by the willow as the sky lit up briefly seemed to dance, giving me qualms but it seemed that no one was there.
Good enough. I kept to the porch as I walked quickly down to the corner. I had an excuse this far – a late night trip to the water closet. But once I went past it, anyone catching me would know I had no real excuse for being out. If there was some emergency, I should have woken Medra after all.
I went past that threshold and shivered. I could still turn back.
But no. I'd made up my mind. I reached the gate to the courtyard; it was pulled closed but not latched or barred.
Crossing the threshold, I didn't look back.
The bright lights of the crystals cast deep shadows, not all of them in line to be lit during the moments that fireworks boomed and flared above. I used a scarf to hide my light hair and went around the kitchens – which would be heaving – and the gardens where the bulk of the festivities were taking place.
There were three routes into the manse. The garden entrance was going to be in full view of part of the party, some of the serious drinkers were there. And the servants' entrance was far too likely to be busy.
That left the riskiest under normal circumstances as the route that I would take.
I went up the stairs that I remembered being carried up years ago to have my first sight of Tepet Yrina and the twin's mother. I'd never gone through the front entrance of the ziggurat but I had a rough idea of the layout.
The broad steps were suitable for ceremony and there had been entertainers playing music on them under Nolly's direction earlier. But with the fireworks, that had ceased and now they were abandoned and eerily so.
I hastened up the steps and reached the ornamental barrier. It wouldn't have stopped a particularly lazy cat, but the chains nonetheless marked a new threshold. To enter the manse without the express consent of one of the Exalted of the household was utterly forbidden. Servants were vetted carefully before being admitted and unexalted family members were usually allowed in only for specific reasons.
The door was closed, but that was alright, I wasn't going to risk it.
Hidden from easy view from outside, there was a low moat of water – just a few inches deep and surrounding the ziggurat in a rigidly precise square. It served as a drain for water running down it during the rain, and also to channel some of the water-aspected essence flows into the proper paths to create a martial hearthstone. I'd expected as much.
And while I'd never seen it before, I found a drain right where my own knowledge of geomancy said it should be. The flat steps of the ziggurat didn't drain cleanly, they were slightly angled to slope back towards the next level upwards, so the water had to escape somehow, and while something the diameter of a man's arm would have sufficed for that, the geomancy demanded more.
I wriggled up into the drain and found it was just wide enough for my shoulders… but barely. Another season or two and this would be impossible.
As it was, I couldn't so much crawl up the drain as slither, bracing my back and knees alternately as I scaled it. Fortunately, it hadn't rained for the past two weeks so it wasn't slippery, but I would have to do something with my clothes after this. The smell would be obvious.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, I reached a grate at the top and gave it a little jiggle. It moved easily and pushing it up gave me a brief start as it came free. I almost lost my grip but I managed to brace myself. I was exposed to the light of the fireworks as I climbed painfully out and stretched, but fortunately no other building in the estate was high enough to see this platform easily.
I replaced the drain and crawled along the platform, minimising the chance of being spotted from the ground. Doors and platforms pierced the manse in several places, providing access to the interior. Most of the rooms were only accessible from the outside if you were above the ground level. Only the uppermost chamber was accessible by the stair that bored its way up from the lowest point of the structure. Otherwise one reached the manse's individual rooms by climbing the stairs engraved in the side and walking around on these platforms.
The room I wanted was on this level, but it was the furthest from the drain outlet, because of course it was.
Actually, it was furthest because of that – if the drain was clogged, not only was it bad for the essence flows but it could cause minor flooding and the most important person residing here wanted their room safe from that.
Finally, I reached the door. It was mostly glass in a wooden frame. Not exactly security conscious, but I guessed that the demands of getting light into it took precedence in the eyes of the resident. It was locked of course.
There are many arcane and clever ways to open a locked door. Spells, charms, clever ploys with pieces of metal. I had none of these.
What I did have was a solid appreciation for how you build a door like this one. The framework holding the glass in place was modular so you could remove the glass without having to disassemble the entire door to replace a cracked pane. Using a butterknife, I pried two of the supports away and removed one of the panes. That didn't leave a lot of space but it wasn't much narrower than the drain.
I slid the glass through first, then replaced the segments. Unless someone was looking for it, the chances were that no one would notice that the glass was missing in this poor light.
Getting my shoulders through the small space took some wriggling but I managed it in the end. Once inside, I hid the glass behind a cabinet and looked around. From here I didn't know exactly where I was going.
The furniture was sturdy and practical, not what one might expect for someone of wealth and power but Tepet Demarol was Exalted. When your anima banner can shred cotton in a moment of inattention, you don't want to surround yourself with delicacies. No, you want furnishings that can take some punishment without showing it.
Thus, the bulk of the furnishings were heavy woods or stone, with stuffed leather where it needed to be softened. The mattress and the blankets on the large four-poster bed might be the most fragile thing here.
I was looking for his medicine cabinet.
Not specifically for medicine, you understand. As far as I knew, my adoptive father had no particular interest in that field of study. He probably kept a few simple remedies around for practical reasons, but gossip among the servants was that it was also where he kept other things that had similarities in terms of how they should be stored.
Such as drugs and medications that were very heavily controlled to keep them out of the wrong hands. Dynasts didn't have to worry about such trifling considerations, for them anything that wasn't actively heretical was merely expensive, and Demarol entertained on this scale regularly. I am quite sure he had a stash to supply his guests with even their most eccentric demands even if he didn't indulge himself.
And there were a couple of likely substances that I could make excellent use of, if he had them. And if I used them correctly.
Of course, any medication can become a poison if misused. But you can drown in water, so moderation isn't exactly something that only applies in esoterica.
I checked the cabinets carefully, almost dismissing those that weren't locked at first. But he might just be casual about securing that sort of thing. I honestly didn't know so I had to try every room.
His wardrobe was extensive, but that wasn't a surprise. However, nothing in them seemed to be what I was looking for. It might be in one of the two locked cupboards or perhaps those that were just too high for me unless I moved a chair to get at them. That would be a problem, but not necessarily one I couldn't solve…
Then I heard a laugh from outside. Was someone coming here?
I dived under the bed and almost brained myself on a shallow chest that was stored under there. I barely spotted it before I hit it and caught myself on the edge of the frame instead. Rolling to one side I got myself into the shadows cast by the frame and the long drapes just before the door opened.
Two voices, one of them familiar.
"I'm sure that you will enjoy this," I heard my father say. "It's a fresh shipment I just received from Arjuf and before that from Paragon. My supplier swears by it."
"I look forward to it."
I didn't recognise the second voice, but I did recognise the drapes being pulled aside. If he looked down here, I was sure to be spotted…
With a brisk movement, the chest was pulled out from under the bed, the rattling of a chain that secured it to the floor hiding the sound of my heart beating louder at the risk of discovery.
Above me I heard people settling onto the bed. There was a click as if something was being unlocked and an appreciative sigh. It couldn't be this, could it?
I wriggled around and peeked out through the drapes. The chest was open and while I couldn't see inside it or what was being removed, it didn't take a genius to add up the sounds I was hearing.
A moment later there was the snap of a fire-starter and I could smell something exotic in the air. Something that spoke to me of the jungles of the south-east, of the ancient centres of civilisation there that predated the histories of the last age, much less that of the more savage and diminished age we lived within.
I swallowed, feeling a wave of homesickness for the city on the northern edge of that great verdant mass, the ancient towers and workshops I had hacked out from jungles and restored somewhat in those days that it seemed that we might be able to turn back the tide of darkness.
That city might live on, somewhere in the Creation that was, the Creation that I had lost. But now all it consisted of was a cursed ruin, bare of any inhabitants for seven and a half centuries, tended by crumbling automatons long overdue for maintenance and repair.
More weight settled onto the mattress above me and I pressed myself against the floor. I was worried about nothing though, the springs above were more than enough to keep the mattress from contacting me.
And then I saw a foot connect with the chest and slide it casually back under the bed.
They hadn't even closed it! Much less locked it!
Bless the spiders of the pattern, who reward audacity! I crawled over to the chest, not caring that it was almost lightless down here.
Delicate probing showed me that the chest was stacked high, probably with several trays to hold layer after layer of small bottles and packages. Tracing what was inside each would be hard, but I wasn't looking for any one thing specifically – there were quite a number of substances that were merely stimulants to the Chosen of the Dragons but would have far more profound effects on a mortal.
The most likely thing to find would be Celestial Cocaine but there wasn't a chance in all Malfeas that I'd touch that even if it was the only likely prospect I found. It was addictive as all hell and I didn't have the body mass to handle weaning myself off a physical and spiritual dependency.
And assuming I could shrug off the psychological dependency would be reckless too, I suppose.
Doing this once might be worthwhile but trying it a second time would almost certainly arouse suspicion, and I doubted Demarol would put up with a bastard adoptee who had a drug habit. Even if I Exalted outright, I'd probably be quietly put aside. That sort of weakness was intolerable.
Bottles I set aside, carrying liquid any real distance would be too chancy without taking the entire bottle and that would be obvious as a theft. No, I wanted a powder or a solid where I could wrap a tiny dose in paper to make my escape.
I most certainly was not going to try to advance my enlightenment further right under the nose of my adoptive father.
The mattress began to rise and fall above me in a rhythmic fashion that would have hinted to someone far more sheltered than I what my father and his guest were doing. Well, I suppose it was a distraction. I needed something along those lines.
Picking two possible packages out of the chest, and making careful note of their proper places, I squirmed over to the side of the bed nearest the door and examined the markings on the packets in the scant light that came through. The markings meant nothing to me, alas. But that didn't really surprise me – probably Demarol or his supplier had a private code they used. Only an utter idiot would write the name of a technically illegal substance on a package, after all. It would be hard to claim that you had no idea what the actual contents were if a Magistrate decided to try to actually hold you to the law.
Afterall, the Scarlet Empress might actually be displeased enough to actually impose the legal consequences if you didn't have some excuse lined up. It had happened… three or four times in her reign, if I recalled correctly.
I didn't recognise the contents of the first package when I unsealed it. The second was October Mist, which would explain the smell in the air. Aromatic and aphrodisiac, completely useless to me.
Painstakingly I crawled back to the chest and replaced the packets, selecting two more and then repeated the examinations.
The first was what I'd expected: Celestial Cocaine. I was very very careful to hold my breath until that was wrapped again. I'd seen mortals kill themselves during my earliest days after Exaltation, in the drug dens of Nexus. I'd worked there after my Exaltation and more than a few men and women thought that they could manage the ride in exchange for opening them up to their essence and gain the opportunity to apprentice with sorcerers or other craftsmen who demanded enlightened apprentices.
The only one I hadn't seen driven to mad addiction and death probably would have ended up that way, although I'd have been pleased if I was wrong and he proved an exception. Instead, his master had called up a demon and deluded himself that he could bind it, rather than bargain with it.
The fool hadn't believed that the bindings hinged on the surrender oaths of the Yozi, tying their creations to serve the Exalted who had conquered them.
It had not been a good afternoon. I'd been much younger and less experienced then.
Well, not younger than I was now. That would have been ridiculous.
It was after that that I received the invitation from my first sifu in the ancient and illegal sect of the Golden Janissaries.
I shook my head, making a mental note to poke around Nexus in fourteen or fifteen years or so, should the opportunity arise. It would be interesting if a younger version of myself was there and if nothing else I could deal with the demon and maybe make some useful connections.
The last packet was a paste for burns. I have no idea why Demarol kept that with the rest but I put it back anyway.
One more try produced a packet of Ocean Bloom Pills. They'd have been ideal… an extremely mild hallucinogen that had enlightening aspects in mortals. A shame they were pills, and as such, that Demarol would almost certainly notice if I took one.
I still had options though, even just on the top tray, so I set them down and then checked the next one.
Oh, you idiot, I thought of the man above. I hope you're not taking this.
It was Raksha Dust, something traded occasionally from the bordermarches outside of Creation. It wasn't very habit forming, but because it was made – somehow, I had never got the specifics – through the interactions of wyld gossamers and the flows of elemental essence around the four outlying poles, it could have unpredictable consequences for Elementals or for Terrestrial Exalted.
Ironically, though, it was one of the safer drugs for mortals to use to enlighten themselves. Illegal and expensive for exactly that reason.
If an Immaculate Monk found out about this, Tepet Demarol would by rights suffer some stinging public denunciations. Probably not enough to cost him control of this manse, but he might very well find out that the invitations he received would be cut severely, particularly from more rigidly inclined Houses. Sesus, Memnon and Cynis would be alright, but the Cathak, Ledaal and the rest of the Tepet might cut him dead socially until it was forgotten for some juicier scandals.
Well, I couldn't spare him that risk without outing my presence here, but his recklessness would serve me well. I took a fold of paper from my tunic and tapped out a tiny quantity of the Raksha Dust onto it before sealing the packet. Folding up the paper several times to contain the dust I tucked it away and then wiggled back to the chest where I replaced the packet and made sure everything was as I remembered it.
With that done, all that remained was to move to a comparatively sheltered spot under the headboard and wait for the activity above me to die down. I was tired since even after a nap it was well after my bedtime, and the scent of the October Mist had me sweating for some reason.
It seemed like forever before the two in the bed above me settled down. Either it was my imagination or Demarol had the stamina of a randy lion. Probably a mix of the latter and of the drug, I guessed.
Finally, after I caught myself yawning, I heard their breath steady down and the mattress stopped bouncing.
I lay still and counted my heartbeat. Up to one hundred, down to one hundred.
When there was still no suspicious noise I crept out from under the bed and stuck to the shadows as best I could. There was considerable risk in taking a look at the pair in the bed, but if they were just snuggling rather than asleep then going right for the door was far too risky.
Finally, I found a place where the bedpost would cover me and slowly edged out just far enough to squint with one eye.
The pair lay still save for a gentle movement of their chests. Demarol lay on top of his bed-partner and I tried to blot from my memory far more view of his buttocks than I wanted. But it seemed that he, at least, had no view of anything but the pillows.
Working my way around the room I risked another look at the face of the other person in the bed. Light hair, somewhat androgynous… I wasn't sure if it was a man or woman, come to think of it. The voice hadn't been clearly one or the other and I wasn't getting close enough to check.
Their eyes were closed though, which was the main thing.
I crawled out of the hole I'd left in the door and had to force myself not to head back to the drain. No, that would be utter folly. Instead I reached back in, found the glass and carefully brought it back outside.
The butter knife worked the fittings loose again, although every faint creak or scrape had my heart in my throat. At last I had the glass back in place though and I patted it gently to be sure it was safe.
Okay, now I could make my escape. I crawled back to the top of the drain. One last display of fireworks, the grandest and largest so far lit up the night just before I scrambled down. It was immense and for more than a minute the sky was multi-hued, with spirals, flowers and blazing wheels of light above me.
I froze, pressed myself to the ground and prayed not to be noticed.
Either someone answered, or everyone was too busy looking up at the fireworks to look at the manse. If it was the latter then they'd probably wrecked their night vision though. With a sigh, I slid into the drain and slithered down it. At least gravity was on my side this time.
At the bottom I dipped myself into the shallow water to wash the smell of October Mist off. Wet clothes I could explain, that scent not so much.
I'd taken only a few steps away from the pond before I realised that I was being an idiot. I was dripping everywhere, leaving a clear trail.
I found a shadowy corner and wrung my tunic out, careful to check that the precious paper I was carrying was still dry. Pulling the tunic back on, I removed my pants and wrung them out too, then shook as much water off my shoes as I could.
From the sounds, guests would be coming by this way soon, with servants detailed to lead them back to their quarters in the appropriate courtyards. There was no way I dared be caught here and no time for anything better.
Slinging my pants over my shoulder, I dashed bare-legged back to the gate of the children's courtyard and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I almost slammed it in my urgency – I was losing my head with nerves now that I was so close to success – and stopped myself at the last moment.
Leaning on the gate I took deep, steadying breaths and looked out. It was dark now, without the fireworks to add light. A few lanterns provided a bare minimum of light but since they were untended overnight, they were few and suspended where any accident wouldn't set fire to anything.
Satisfied that I was alone, I padded my way to the water closet and slid inside.
There was every possibility that if I tried to hide the Raksha dust in the nursery that someone would find it. So, I'd need to take it now. Fortunately, the water closet was one place where we had a lantern – suspended above a basin of water. I opened out the paper and judged the quantity by eye. It wasn't as if I could use scales to weigh it.
I guessed there was a full adult dose, maybe half again a full dose. Too much to risk, even if mortals generally had no huge issue. A third of a full dose would be enough, perhaps too much.
On reflections I divided the contents of the paper into three tiny piles and then divided one again into two. A sixth should be a quarter or less of a full dose. The rest I would discard.
It was obscenely wasteful, I noted. I was throwing away scores of obols worth of the stuff. Some families wouldn't see that much money at a time in their entire lives. But there was no hiding place that I could be sure inquisitive children wouldn't find it - and then potentially sample it themselves.
(I have discovered many times that bloodhounds have nothing on small children when it comes to finding hiding places).
I'd always expected to use whatever I found here, so I'd prepared in advance. There was a small cabinet in the antechamber to the actual toilet part of the room and when I switched Medra's wine for Usha's I took the actual wine and hid it here.
No one would be too suspicious about one of the staff here hiding something here to drink during a gala. For that matter, I was sure I'd seen Usha use the hiding place before. Living in a dynastic nursery was an education in all sorts of unexpected ways.
Sure enough, the flask was here and I used my fingers to transfer my chosen dose of Raksha Dust into it, shaking the wine to mix it in each time. Diluting the drug in wine would soften it further – although I might not manage the entire contents of the flask. On reflection I put another pinch of the dust in and then swept the rest onto the paper and poured it down the hole. Good luck to anyone wanting to find out if anything had been tipped down there.
The paper I tore up into tiny shreds and scattered down the hole as well. There was a decent chance of no one noticing until it was covered in excrement. All I'd need was for it to pass unnoticed until the usual morning visits were done with... probably.
I shook the flask further and then opened it. Well, here it was. Time to see if I'd accomplished anything at all last night…
Tipping it back I sipped on the wine. It wasn't all that strong, Medra didn't really indulge much. Safe enough for me to have it. I might be a bit dehydrated later but…
My eyes felt like they bulged as the wine hit my stomach. "Oh!" I gasped.
I'd never actually tried Raksha Dust – it was unwise for a Terrestrial Exalt, as I'd mentioned.
My insides felt ablaze and when I felt for my essence, the motes seemed to flow through my fingers like water.
I'd barely taken one swallow of the wine. I couldn't have had that much!
Was something wrong with the wine? My legs didn't seem to be up to holding me up any more. I slumped against the wall, mind working frantically.
No, the wine was about right. I'd had a sip or two before, we all had. It was tacitly winked at that older children slipped their juniors just enough to start their education in social drinking. Granted, I'd had half a cup at most and nodded off almost immediately, but this was pretty similar stuff…
No, I must have made a mistake with the Raksha Dust, I decided.
Dammit, dammit!
I crawled to the water hole and poured all the wine down it. Leaving any for someone to investigate would be idiocy now. Tossing the flask aside I gazed down into the pit. Every pulse of my heart sent flares of colour across my vision.
There was nothing for it. I reached down my throat with two fingers and tried to make myself gag.
I could practically feel my wings again. It had been so long since I'd flown…
No, focus, dammit.
I couldn't have said if it was the artifact wings I was remembering or other, more spiritual wings I'd developed later.
I bit on my fingers, enough for pain to focus me.
Blood tasted like iron in my mouth.
I remembered the first time I'd seen the armies of the dead marching in array. Thousands strong, advancing on Whitewall. I'd taken a direct hit from one of their essence cannons and been thrown through a fir tree. The fractured ribs had taken several hours to knit, even with Exalted healing and medical care from a competent surgeon…
I have to get it to-geth-huagh!
With a spasm, my stomach finally took the hint and acid bile preceded a gout of wine exploding out of my mouth and into the waste hole.
I shook, spat and then another clench heralded a second stream of vomit, parts of my supper. Cold trails down my leg suggested that the other end of my digestive system had let go too.
This had been a bloody stupid idea, I realised as I sat on the floor and darkness grew around me. Impatience had come close to killing me.
When I woke my vision was swimming. For a moment I thought the entire experience had been a dream.
Perhaps more than just last night, come to think of it.
I was in a cosy bed, under the blankets and feeling perhaps a little dry in the throat. Oh, and wearing a nappy.
If the last two or three years had been a dream then it had been unusually vivid.
I closed my eyes and blinked them again and again until I could make sense of what I saw.
Oh, it was just the ceiling. That was much less alarming than I'd expected. I sighed. Okay, the nursery ceiling. I recognised some of the knots in the wood.
Two hands took hold of one of mine and I turned my head to see Medra leaning over me. "Little Alina?" the old woman asked me in a thin, weary voice. "Can you hear me?"
I cleared my throat and croaked rather than spoke, then lifted my head and dropped it back onto the pillows. It was as near to a nod as I thought that I could manage.
She closed her hands more tightly. "You silly girl." There were actual tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "Why didn't you wake me?"
I couldn't have replied easily so I said nothing, just coughed and tried to get some moisture in my mouth.
Recovering herself, Medra helped me sit up enough to sip from a cup of milk, something easy on my throat. Once I had emptied the cup she turned away and blotted at her eyes with her apron. "You worried us very much, child."
"I'm sorry," I managed. I had failed, miserably and abjectly. I still wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to pretend anything else. The Raksha Dust had been wasted, as had all the risks I'd taken.
Medra hugged me. "You don't know how frightened we all were when we found you were missing. And then again when Nalan found you in the toilets. Promise me you'll wake me next time if you find I'm asleep when you wake. No matter what."
I patted her reassuringly on the back and felt her cringe at the contact. "Medra, are you alright."
"Nothing I didn't deserve," she sobbed. "Now promise me."
"I promise," I agreed. I'd never even considered the consequences for her of my sneaking out. Medra, the woman who'd cared for me first and foremost, ever since I was taken away from my mother. What utter selfishness I'd shown.
A wave of shame engulfed me. I must never do this again. Exalted or mortal, enlightened or not, I had to be better than that. Being so arrogant and self-absorbed had been the downfall of far grander people than I. I'd failed to learn from their examples so now I must learn from my own idiocy.
"I promise," I said again, moving my hands up and hugging her around her shoulders where, thankfully, she wasn't as tender.
She sniffed and let me go at last. "Well, it's a lesson we should remember, I suppose. The other children have been very worried. Nalan had vapours and was in the next bed all of yesterday. He might still be there, but your father insisted he come out and be his cupbearer the same way Doreg had."
I nodded. It wasn't truly heartless of Demarol, making such appearances was not just a duty for us, it was something that would pay off for us in years to come, meeting and being seen by other important people. "I should let him know that I'm alright."
Medra pressed me down onto the pillows. "You are not alright, and you are staying right here in bed until we're sure you've fully recovered."
With a sigh I let her have her way. I owed her far too much.
"I'll let Ishah know that you've woken up. Now don't leave the bed until we're back."
"I promise." I honestly didn't feel like I could have done much more than sit up anyway. Then a thought struck me. They said Nalan had had to go to bed for a whole day. "Wait, how long have I been asleep?"
"Two days," she told me.
"…two whole days?" Good grief.
"Well, more than that now, it's almost lunchtime."
I must have really done a number on myself. I lay back and closed my eyes.
Had I damaged my essence with what I did? I was tempted to test it out but that was the sort of thinking that had got me into this trouble to begin with. No, I'd wait until I was fully recovered.
Until then I'd rest properly. Perhaps I should just go to sleep again.
It seemed like I'd barely closed my eyes when the door opened. I was about to look at Ishah but before I could move, I heard an unwelcome voice.
"She's probably not woken up. Medra's old and was imagining it," Hunt declared. "She might never wake up."
What was she even doing here? The three older children had moved out into rooms on the upper level of this building, one for Hunt and one for the twins, a while back. Only Opiha and I still slept here unless someone (usually Nalan) was ill.
"No! No!" Opiha sounded shrill. "She'll definitely wake up."
"Well she hasn't, look." And that was Doreg. "I bet she's been as ill as Nalan gets but she was hiding it and now it's all hitting her at once."
"She's not going to stay asleep forever," insisted Opiha.
"Well of course not." Hunt paused. "She'll die eventually."
"No!"
"Look." And then a finger poked at my face. "She's not moved at all."
Right, so much for being good. I waited until the finger poked again and then turned my head and snapped my teeth.
"OOOOAAAAAA!" Hunt screamed, yanking a bloody finger away from my face.
Doreg went white as a sheet and backed away, pointing. "She's died and turned into a hungry ghost! She's here for our blood!"
Well, I wasn't going to miss a chance like that. "Blood..."
With a scream, Doreg and Hunt bolted for the door. Opiha just stood there trembling.
I stretched and smiled at the white-haired girl. "Oh, hello Opiha. I had the strangest dream."
"D-dream?"
I nodded.
"Y-you're not dead?"
"I don't think so."
And then I had my arms fully of a crying little girl. Truly the wages of sin are suffering.
Apparently, my definition of recovered was very different from Medra's. The gala had completely finished but I was still confined not only to the nursery but to my bed.
I really wanted to be good, but it had been another three days since I woke up. I hadn't had lessons and, in fact, I hadn't been allowed to do anything.
Also, I could apparently only be fed nourishing soup. I was beginning to think Ishah and Medra were punishing me.
Finally, my patience broke and I waited until they were gone and started to do what exercise I could without leaving the bed. I wasn't technically breaking any instructions since I wasn't leaving the bed, right? And a little exercise would tire me out, making it easier to rest later, right?
I was watching my limits though. If nothing else, spending several days in bed had left me wobbly and off-balance, so I couldn't do much at first. But after a nap, I was able to do a little more the second time.
Twice was probably as much as I could get away with, and the second nap was fitful so I figured I'd slept myself out for the day.
"I feel much better," I assured Medra when she cleaned me up after my soup. "Are you sure I can't get out of bed?"
"Not just yet," she informed me firmly. "You're still looking pale and I don't want to take any chances. You do understand, don't you? We don't want you collapsing again."
"No," I conceded. It wasn't like I could tell her why I'd passed out. Truthfully, I wasn't sure myself about all the details, but I'd be in immense trouble if they found out even what I did know.
And while I'd been left alone through most of the day while Usha was on duty, Medra set up that evening with evidently no intention of letting me out of her sight.
"Can I sit up and meditate?"
The old woman gave me a tolerant look. "Well, I suppose so." Of course, I'm fairly sure that she and the other nannies thought I was just playing at meditating and would fall asleep any time I tried. Which was mostly untrue.
(Actually, if it did put me to sleep until they were ready to let me out of bed, that would be perfectly acceptable. I wouldn't be bored if I was asleep.)
Sitting cross legged on the sheets, I closed my eyes and reached out.
Every one of us has essence. Every one of us is made of essence, for the simple reason that everything in creation is constructed of essence. Everything we do is manipulation of essence, on some level.
But direct control of it is another matter. Direct control of it can magnify everything we do. It's not a simple feat, and it's limited both in the degree of control you have and the magnitude you can draw essence from not only yourself but Creation around you.
I'd managed the first step, touching the essence of my own body. Alas, having learned as an Exalt, the techniques I knew were for the most part useless to me. Only martial arts charms were open to me out of the tricks I'd learned in my lifetime, and only the very least of these.
I could reach out though, I could isolate a mote and manipulate it. That was a start. It was something, for if you can use one then you can use more.
The question was, had my recklessness had cost me the ability to do so…? If so…
Well, I'd have to live with it.
And so, I reached out, into the complexity of life, and reached for the simplest and most common denominator. The energy flows through me.
It was hard to hold my focus, I was so nervous. For a moment I thought that I'd lost it.
And then, a moment later I felt a mote within my grasp.
A mote that flowed and shifted as I willed it.
I had it.
I hadn't wrecked my own control, crippling myself.
The relief was such that I almost fell out of my trance. I'd have to work on my control again, using your essence isn't much use if it's all you can do. But I hadn't made a complete mess of everything.
I exhaled, long and slow. Letting go of tension that I had all but internalized. It was not as bad as I had thought, not as bad as I had feared.
Sinking into the trance again I measured and judged my essence.
A sharp laugh burst out of me.
Oh, the irony.
There was so much of it.
It could only mean one thing: I'd broken through onto the next plateau. Through the luck of the devil, I'd failed my way to success. Maybe there had been more Raksha Dust than I thought or perhaps mixing it with wine was exactly the wrong or right thing to do.
I had deeper and finer control than before. Deeper reserves. If I could master them then I would be able to resume my study of arts that lacked the physical demands of Five Dragon or Crimson Pentacle Blade. There were two such that I hadn't been able to attempt, but now that barrier was irrelevant. In fact, there were several arts I might even be able to push into intermediate levels now, given the time.
"That's enough," Medra told me sternly. I opened my eyes and saw her glaring down at me, serious despite the twinkle in her eyes. "If you're laughing then this isn't meditation. And I want you properly rested if you're going to be allowed out of bed tomorrow, little Alina."
"Yes Medra," I agreed. Tomorrow, eh? I let her lay me down and cover me with the blankets. I could wait until tomorrow. Now that I knew the opportunities that I'd opened up at such a risk, I could wait as long as I needed to. Even if the Dragons never chose me in this lifetime, I had the tools to defend myself and – just perhaps – to make a difference.