I was tempted to tell him our aunt probably only saw us a few hours out of every year, and made it clear she was even less interested in my brother than she was in me.
“His current guardianshadnoticed, although they hadn’t yet put a name to it,” Valor La Fey added. “They realized your brother’s magic, even suppressed as it was, didn’t observe the normal patterns for most Magicals. They had asked for some of these evaluations as early as spring of last year, but their petition was denied.”
I frowned, still fighting to keep up.
“He’s hybrid––” I began.
“It’s not that, cousin.”
I stared up at him. I saw meaning in his eyes, but I had no idea what I was supposed to understand.
“Arcturus spent most of today undergoing tests, by numerous experts,” Valor went on carefully. “This is not unusual, by the way, in circumstances such as his. Prior to coming of age, I mean. Especially when a Magical didn’t obtain all the standard evaluations at birth.”
I was still staring at him, still waiting for him to get to the point. I’d known Arcturus was different, of course, but I’d had no way to evaluate that, even after I knew we were half-Magical. If he wasn’t sick, or twisted from being hybrid, what did that leave?
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked finally.
“Nothing, cousin.” Valor shook his head vehemently. “There is absolutelynothingwrong with him. His magic has simply been found to belong to a different caste.”
I frowned, now confused for real.
“A different caste than what?” I asked.
“Well.” My cousin exhaled. “A different caste than you. Or I, for that matter.” His green eyes met mine, nearly colorless in the moonlight. He appeared hesitant again, cautious. “He’s not an ordinary Magical. Do you understand what that means?”
I didn’t, really.
I hadn’t studied much about the four main castes among Magicals. Out of the four, only ordinary Magicals and Warlocks attended Malcroix Bones, so those were the only kinds I’d ever knowingly seen in the flesh. There’d been a short section on Magical variation in one of my magistory tests the previous year. I’d had to list out the basic characteristics of each, how they differed, how they were trained, how they were generally employed, and some of the theories around genetic differentiation. The test hadn’t really beenaboutthat; it was part of a section on the Caste Wars of the Thirteenth Century.
I knew I belonged to the ordinary caste of Magicals.
That was the caste no one really referred to as a caste at all, but simply as “Magical,” or “Mage” or sometimes “Wizard.” My blood made me different, but my caste, oddly enough, was the same as every other Magical I knew.
Apart from those like me, I knew there were Warlocks, who were born with a strong predisposition towards the fighting arts. They came in with exaggerated reflexes, exaggerated muscle-to-body-mass ratios, and usually a difference in size, arm and leg length, body chemistry, and so on. The real difference was in their magic, however, which operated differently than that of an ordinary Magical. Those differences excluded them from a number of professions in ordinary Magique.
They tended to be career military, Praecuri, British Magical Enforcement, or one of the other Magical equivalents to law enforcement.
Next there were Oracles, who had a strong predisposition to seeing future events, to building chimaeras, and to the Seer Artsmore generally, to the point where they had to be trained in entirely different schools until they learned to control the ability. Like Warlocks, the difference lived primarily in their magic. Oracles operated magic at entirely different frequencies from ordinary Magicals. They also saw, felt, and experienced things that ordinary Magicals didn’t.
They, like Warlocks, could do things we couldn’t, and vice versa.
Their job opportunities tended to be more varied than those of Warlocks, but obviously. they clustered in professions where their unique abilities were highly valued.
Then there was the strangest of the four, the one they called––
“Obeah,” my cousin said. He cleared his throat. “Your brother was tested, and determined to belong to the Obeah caste, Leda.”
I stared at him, fighting to not react.
I could feel my pulse, and my breath, growing more agitated.
“Do you know what that means?” Valor asked me carefully.
“No,” I said at once.
I heard the strain in my voice.
Despite my answer, I felt myself frantically struggling to remember everything I’d ever read about the Obeah. They weren’t magic wielders at all, from my memory. They, alone, among all the castes, had no ability toperformmagic, at least not in the way it was normally thought of. They couldn’t cast spells or perform rituals that acted on the natural world, not even as a seer, like Oracles could do. Rather, Obeah had very peculiar and exacting vision into thenatureof all magic. They were tasked with––
