Which makes it all the worse when I fumble my assignments in such an obvious way.
“That’s right, she wasn’t specific enough in her question,” Professor Lyons repeats. “What did you ask, Raya?” He turns to appraise me, the judgement in his expression pinching his broad face sharp.
“To see which door Akari opened before dropping the flag,” I mumble, staring at my feet instead of the sea of eyes scrutinizing my mistake. Not just other Indigos, but Shades from the other six specializations, as well. In the year leading up to guild selections, we’re all taught together, so that we can learn to better understand each other’s gifts, facilitate the other shades of magic and help minimize their weaknesses. So instead of keeping my embarrassingly flawed logic to myself, I have to share it with an entire rainbow of classmates, steep in their judgement and hear them mutter insults under their breath.Fate-touchedhas become a particular favorite, an Indigo who’s lost the ability to talk to the fates.
“The idea was that she could think of a hundred different rooms in which to place the flag, but she’d have had to physically open the door to the one she left it in.” I try to ignore their sniggers, to ignore the fact that the whole Academy believes that I’m destined for nothing
but disgrace.
A bound Shade is a pariah.
As useless as a typic but with the added stain of shame—the kind that would irrevocably tarnish the Wryvern legacy. My parents are barely coping with the humiliation of an inept daughter; a powerless one would send their last nerve up in flames. If the Council casts me out, they’ll quickly follow suit and disown me. Hells, they wouldn’t even need persuasion.
“And what should Raya have asked?” Professor Lyons poses the question to the other Indigos in the class.
“Which door Akari closed once sherelinquished possessionof the flag.” The answer comes from Anders brown-noser Prince, a self-righteous annoyance of a Shade who has none of my raw power, but an insufferable amount of skill.
“Very good, Mister Prince.” Professor Lyons rewards his star student with a nod. “And why is that the correct framing?”
“Becausedropped the flagisn’t specific enough; it allows for the possibility that the flag was picked up again as a means of muddying the future. Whereasrelinquished possessionimplies a finality of intent. Less likely to be misinterpreted.” It seems so obvious once Anders explains his reasoning. Then again, that’s always been my problem: I’m no good at thinking around the mud, particularly when I’m casting on the spot or under pressure.
“That’s right,” Professor Lyons says, turning to address us all. “Remember, the best way to see the future isn’t to look forward, but to work back, account for as many eventualities as possible so that your questions elicit the path least likely to change. That’s why you must choose them with care.” The afternoon bell rings loud with his assertion, marking the end of the day’s classes.
“You need to stop rushing, Ray,” Akari says as we speed towards the dorms. When we’re in the Gray, we don’t have to walk, we can shimmer, shed our physicality and wisp through both shadow and wall. Within reason, of course; we’re not allowed to wisp into rooms uninvited or circumvent a closed door, not in the Academy and certainly not when we’re out in the wider world. No shimmering into places we’re not supposed to be; that’s the Council’s official stance on exploiting our ability to transcend the bounds of the flesh, their way of keeping the typics from losing their minds entirely, declaring us too big of a threat.
“Did you hear what I said?” Akari bristles at my lack of reply. “You’re so busy trying to prove that you can read the future as fast
as that twit Anders, you’re not thinking through your questions properly.”
“I’m not going to have time tothink through my questionsduring
trials,” I remind her. That was the exact reason I failed to pass the last round. By taking too long, being too indecisive, not trusting myself to simply know how to construct the right questions to ask.
“Well, not thinking them through isn’t doing you much good, so maybe you could try slowing down?” she says, raising a perfectlyarched brow. Akari has always been what you’d call striking, even before she grew into her confidence and her willowy height. Her eyes are long and angular, her skin a pale ochre in tone, and her hair black, bobbed, and sharply cut, a perfect complement to the razor-edge of her cheekbones and the way her lips purse when she’s mad. Especially at me.
“Can we please stop pretending that it’ll make a difference?” I snap, too keyed up to keep my frustration from biting. It’s one thing for me to cling to a dying hope—this is my life we’re talking about, my magic that’s going to end up bound—but quite another for Akari to indulge that delusion. Six months ago, maybe; I still needed her optimism back then, her help training. Whereas now, it’s starting to verge on condescending. We both know that I’m running out of time to make good on my pedigree. Perhaps I should just quit dreaming already and make peace with that fact.
“I’m notpretendinganything.” Akari’s voice hardens in pitch. “Trust me, if I thought you had no chance of making it, I’d have told you that to your face—if only so that you’d quit whining.” She softens the jibe with a wink and a smile. “Seriously, Ray, this story only ends with you losing your magic if you let it. It’s not about being the best or the strongest, you just have to do enough to skirt by,” she says, unlocking the door to our room. “So, spend this last month proving you know how to direct a few basic questions and the seers’ guild won’t be able to keep you out. Then you can take a job somewhere far, far away from them. Far away from your parents, too, since they’re hardly helping with your state of mind.”
On that, at least, Akari’s right. Once I’m in the guild, I won’t have to spend my life in a seeing tower like my parents, seeking complex futures for the Council to consider and discount. I could travel the world as a ship’s weathervane, become a gambler’s aide or a gambling hall’s safekeeper, advise banking houses on how to best preserve their coin and their wealth. Hells, I could simply sell glimpses of the future to anyone who can pay. There are plenty of ways for an Indigo to make a living—just as long as they prove that they can accurately predict.
Which is the one thing I’m yet to master.
And while I appreciate Akari’s belief in my ability to learn the theory, I’ve been grappling with my power for years now, and the result never changes, no matter how hard I try or how long I let my questions steep. I’m just not built for this brand of seeing. The only thing that’s likely to help me is if there were an entirely new method of—
Wait. No.The thought that strikes me is like a bucket of water tossed into a cold wind. Not a new method of seeing, an old one. A practice long since abandoned on account of the damage it can wreak.
“What if it’s not about directing my questions,” I say, sounding the idea out. “What if I could show them the value of my power a different way?”
“Is there a different way to see the future?” Akari drops down to her bed, shrugging out of her academic robes. Black with the symbol for strength embroidered at the collar and sleeves, to signify her Orange color. “Other than asking questions, I mean?”
“There’s a different way to ask questions,” I say, shedding the itchiness of mine.
A way that requires more power but less skill.
“You had better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about.” Akari catches my meaning right away.
Open questions instead of the specific ones I’ve been taught to wield.
