A Practical Guide to Sorcery - Chapter 219: Book of the Raven Queen

Siobhan

Month 8, Day 25, Wednesday 11:05 p.m.

As Siobhan stepped forward, the familiar-looking teenage girl, the two children, and the homeless man all took a simultaneous step back, almost as if the move were choreographed.

On the narrow bed, Jackal grew even paler. Someone had torn off his sleeve and used that to tie a makeshift bandage around the wound, but the fabric was completely soaked and blood was dripping from his fingertips.

“Sit up,” Siobhan said.

Jackal jerked upright, even though he had to tug on Sharon’s hand for support.

With one hand, Siobhan pulled out a wound cleansing potion, while the other tugged the simple knot of Jackal’s bandage free. “Brace yourself.”

Jackal’s legs jerked involuntarily as she poured the painful liquid over a laceration so deep she would probably be able to see the humerus bone beneath if she pulled its sides apart. The bright, sharp scent mixed with the iron tang of blood.

“Slicing spell?” she asked as she retrieved a blood-clotting potion. Using both hands, she poured out the potion’s grainy, slightly sticky contents and smeared them over the wound.

“Yes, my queen,” Jackal forced out between clenched teeth. Sweat beaded across his pale face.

“Do not worry. This is something I can easily handle.” Siobhan moved to the old and battered operating table and began to draw the spell array for her mirrored healing spell in a wax that wouldn’t be easily smeared. “Bring him over here,” she ordered. She placed the sopping mass of Jackal’s sleeve-bandage on the table—it would do well for the Sacrifice.

Deidre and Sharon helped Jackal to move while Siobhan finished up the minimalist spell array.

She tipped a few more potions down Jackal’s throat, then thrust the spelled cap of a one-liter bottle of Humphries’ adapting solution into the skin above his jugular vein. Siobhan recalled her helplessness when trying to save Jameson, what seemed so long ago now. ‘That is one mistake I actually did manage to learn from.’

When Jackal’s lost blood had been partially replenished, she put the free part of her Will to work knitting his flesh back together.

The workers from the central hall had sneaked in, and along with the others, had spread out a safe distance around the bed to watch on in fascination.

“It’s really the Raven Queen,” the younger of the two children murmured, awed.

His elder sister nodded, but placed her finger over her lips to signal for silence. Both children had small cloth satchels hung over their backs, which presumably held their meagre belongings.

When Siobhan was finished, she examined the wound with her magnifying divination spell to make sure things were as perfect as possible. She made a few tweaks to smooth connections out where she had lacked precision or the mirroring nature of the spell had caused imperfections. People were not naturally perfectly symmetrical.

Finally, she drew back, grabbed a clipboard that was lying around, and drew the shedding-disintegration spell on the back of it. She ran the spell over Jackal, herself, and anyone and everywhere he had left blood all the way to the front door. ‘That’s not enough.’ As she had experienced personally, leaving your bodily fluids lying around on the street was a very bad idea. Especially after you had committed a crime. She walked back into the understocked infirmary. “Report. What happened?”

Jackal, Sharon, and the teenage girl shared looks, each seeming to urge the others to speak. Finally, Sharon sighed and turned towards Siobhan. “We didn’t have much trouble getting the children out. In through the window, a bit of chatting and silently gathering their things, and out through the window again. We left a raven feather on their sleeping mats, and planned to visit their ‘guardian’ in the morning.” Sharon glanced at the children and pressed her lips together to suppress whatever opinion wanted to slip through.

“It was on the way back that we met trouble,” Jackal said.

“Two men wearing all black were trying to drag this man away against his will,” the teenage girl said, pointing to the tattered vagabond.

Siobhan combed her memory for where she had met the girl before. “Ah! Betty?” She suppressed the urge to add, “the vomiter?” Betty looked much different no longer suffering from starvation and severe illness, and having recently had a bath and a haircut.

The girl’s eyes widened comically.

Beside Siobhan, Deidre smiled smugly. “Truly, all that is within the grasp of shadows is known to you, my queen.”

“Have we…met?” Betty asked.

Belatedly, Siobhan realized that she had no explainable reason to know either Betty or Sharon’s name. “No.”

“Do you know my name?” the young boy asked. “Do you know all our names?”

Siobhan wished she could smack herself in the forehead. She should have said that she met Betty in passing, and that the girl simply didn’t remember her. It would have made more sense than knowing her name with no reasonable explanation. Perhaps it was time to put Millennium’s advice into practice once more and simply push through with brazenness. “I apologize. That was rude of me. I am called Siobhan Naught, and sometimes the Raven Queen. What are your names?” she asked, blatantly ignoring the boy’s question.

The other occupants of the infirmary introduced themselves with varying levels of formality.

Sharon moved to the wash basin and began to scrub away the grease-paint with soap and a washcloth. “We’d heard about the recent spate of kidnappings, and he was yelling for help, so we stopped and confronted them. They attacked. Would have hit the children if not for Jackal,” Sharon added with a respectful nod. “So we fought back and managed to make ourselves enough of a nuisance that the kidnappers decided to go for easier prey, I guess.”

“Thank you.” The homeless man bowed deeply several times in thanks. His fingers were tight where they gripped onto his makeshift crutch, and he remained otherwise silent.

Siobhan asked for more details about the attempted kidnappers, but other than the fact that they seemed healthy, their clothes fine, and their artifacts expensive, they had no identifying features and had given away no clues. Their attempted victim had no idea why they might have targeted him, except that he was conveniently alone at the time. ‘This is too worrisome to leave things to chance.’

Mentally, she designed a spell array whose output would be facing outward rather than inward, that could keep the person within the inner Circle safe and warded while destroying any pieces of them existing out in the world. All her research into sympathetic concepts, as well as her work with Professor Lacer and her side project of warding her attic apartment had paid dividends in knowledge. This kind of spell array was distinctly different than the Circle turned inside-out that she had read about in 100 Clever Ways Thaumaturges Have Committed Suicide. The problem was, Siobhan wasn’t strong enough to make it effective over the distances necessary, and any samples behind wards would also remain safe.

“Still, it is better than nothing,” she muttered to herself. After a moment of hesitation, she looked at Deidre and motioned for the woman to follow her out of the infirmary. Once they were far enough for privacy, she asked, “Does the Undreaming Order have any powerful thaumaturges?”

Deidre’s forefinger rose halfway to point at Siobhan before she jerked it down again. “I am not sure if you would consider him powerful, but among our awakened, Anders is a competent thaumaturge. Several other members of the flock are also thaumaturges of varying capability. They may not be awakened yet, but we might be able to call on them if there is a need.”

“Actually, just call Gera,” Siobhan said. Gera was proficient with divination, if not disintegration curses, and would be strong enough for the sympathetic magic to reach quite far.

While Siobhan waited, she went up to the second story and found a free space at the edge of the room, beyond the columns. Conveniently, the previous occupants had built a simple pentagram array design into the polished marble. Using it as a guide, she drew out the spell array with a glue-based paint stick, giving an excessive amount of detail and writing a full explanation of the spell’s effects around the inside of the outer Circle.

She double-checked her work for errors, then tried casting it herself while she waited for Gera to arrive. Her strength quickly hit its limits, and she was forced to drop the attempt with what was probably only a few blocks around the headquarters cleaned.

Siobhan returned to the first floor to find everyone eating at a table that had been brought from the storage room in the kitchen. The children were both unnaturally thin and unnaturally cautious. They ate slowly and deliberately, watching and silently mimicking Deidre and Sharon’s manners. By the time the meal was finished, Gera had arrived. Siobhan instructed the woman to go up to the second floor and cast the spell she had prepared there. “You can use the spell array I drew or your own preferred version, but precautions must be taken for all of the Undreaming Order awakened.”

Deidre and the others followed Gera up, leaving Siobhan alone with the children.

Siobhan deactivated her dowsing artifact and sat across the table from the two.

The boy was small enough he had trouble seeing over the edge, while the girl watched Siobhan with weary eyes and a grim tilt to her mouth.

“Did these people ask you if you wanted to come before they brought you here?”

Both children remained silent.

Siobhan sighed and tried to soften her body language. “I want to know if you got to choose—if you wanted to leave your home—or if they brought you here against your will.”

The girl’s grip tightened around the handle of her water tankard. “We’re not going back there. Not ever again. We’re under your protection now and everyone will be too scared to hurt us. And someday, a good family that knows all about you and does what you say is going to adopt us,” she said, her voice challenging but her eyes pleading.

“And I’ma eat pie on my birthday, and I won’t get cold in the winter because my boots’ll have stuffin’ in them,” the boy added.

The girl took a deep breath, as if she were about to take a frightening leap. “And we’ll go to school!” Her gaze flicked to the side, and then back to Siobhan, her hand squeezed even harder around the tankard’s handle.

Siobhan’s chest tightened painfully, and it felt as if her heart were struggling to pump suddenly sludge-like blood through her veins. If she were to guess, that final addition was not a promise made by Sharon or the others, but the girl’s sneaky way of trying to get additional concessions from the one person who she believed could make miracles come true. “If that is what you want, it will be done. But—”

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Siobhan paused as the girl visibly deflated with relief, then continued. “But it may not always be easy. Your former guardian may have complaints. You will need to talk about what your life was like before you came to us.”

The girl’s lips turned down again.

“And it might take some time to find a family that you like enough to adopt them,” Siobhan added.

The girl’s grip loosened, and she shared a look with the boy. “We get to choose?” she asked.

“Both sides have to choose,” Siobhan said gently. “But yes. You have to accept them. Both sides adopt the other. And if they ever were to treat you badly…”

The girl gave Siobhan a vicious little grin. “Then you visit in the night, right?”

Siobhan shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “Do either of you need healing?”

“We’re fine, my queen,” the girl said quickly.

“Did you know that I can hear the sound of a lie?” Siobhan asked languidly.

The girl gulped. “I mean…we don’t have any injuries or noth—or anything. Just some scrapes and bruises? Nothing that hurts too bad.”

“Would you be more comfortable if I healed you, or if one of the others did? Perhaps Sharon? We will need to catalogue any visible signs of violence or abuse.”

“Sharon!” came the immediate response.

Siobhan tried not to let her feelings be hurt by how sure—and how relieved—the child seemed by the choice.

When the women returned from the second floor, Siobhan handed the children off to Sharon and Betty.

“Gera is still working on Jackal,” Deidre said. “Thank you for creating a way for us to protect ourselves in your absence, my queen. I am ashamed to say I didn’t even consider it.”

Siobhan ignored the thanks, suddenly self-conscious that a real expert in divination had seen her no doubt amateurish spell creation. She waved for Deidre to convene in her office.

Now that Siobhan had seen what could come of it, the stack of correspondence in the crate beside Deidre’s desk seemed eminently more ominous. ‘How many of those are requests for rescue?’ Siobhan left the door open behind them so that she would be instantly alerted about any emergencies.

Siobhan hesitated. There was only one chair. “Bring another chair.”

Deidre drew back her shoulders and proudly announced, “That’s alright, my queen. I’ll stand.”

Siobhan sighed. “Bring another chair,” she repeated.

When Deidre returned, hauling one of the chairs from the kitchen, she placed it in front of her desk and sat in it, leaving her own chair behind the desk for Siobhan.

“You have explained why you decided to start the Undreaming Order and much of what you do, but I have further questions. Why did you choose that name?”

Deidre blushed, but placed her hands on her knees and did not fidget as she answered. “Well, we held a vote, my queen. We awakened did. The idea came partially from what you did for Millennium, and partially from the prophetic or symbolic dreams several people have testified about and tried to interpret. But mainly, it came from Enforcer Turner’s research into the concepts of lucid dreaming. Several of those who believe in your power and grace were practicing the exercises already and espousing the benefits.”

Siobhan was familiar with the concept of lucid dreaming, as it was one of the techniques often recommended to manage persistent nightmares. Unfortunately, it had not helped her in the least, as what she really needed was to avoid dreaming altogether. Still, over the years she had picked up quite a lot of knowledge about it. “I remember some of those people,” Siobhan said. One of the Nightmare Pack enforcers had spoken of it to her months ago. She pulled the memory up and searched it for clues. “They hope to come awake while dreaming…and pray for my guidance?”

“Well, among other things. Many consider lucid dreaming, when combined with other practices, to be the best way to get you to accept a message or request. Several people have also reported symbolic responses, such as dreaming of a raven or a shadowy form, after which they experience some corresponding positive or negative event in reality, or feel that they have been called to take some action.”

That was dangerous. Not only could dreams be totally outlandish, the person interpreting them could assign almost any meaning they wished. This was part of why Siobhan found the practice of divination through symbolism and augury to be so extremely useless.

“The name ‘Undreaming Order’ might not exactly correspond with the desire to control one’s mind even while asleep, but, well, it sounds powerful. And we did not want to draw ire by choosing a name more blatantly reminiscent of you. And…perhaps some day, those who you favor could receive boons that allow us to do what we have trained for more fully,” Deidre added tentatively.

“And the ‘awakened’ are those with leadership positions?”

“Yes. It’s somewhat presumptuous, I know.”

Siobhan sighed. “The greater ‘flock’ that you have referred to—those among them who join without having been transferred a debt of service—what do they hope to gain from membership in the Undreaming Order?”

“Many need nothing in particular. But they know you do not give your aid for free. They also know that your wings often shelter the downtrodden and the helpless, and those who become your enemies or attempt to harm those under your protection receive no mercy. They hope for no particular boon, only your favor. They would shelter under your wings, and in exchange carry out your will.”

Perhaps sensing Siobhan’s exasperation, Deidre hurried to add, “We have not spoken on your behalf without your permission. We are ready to put orders or rewards from you into practice, if you wish. Our awakened and some members of the flock would be happy to help those under your protection or make trouble for your enemies. We could spread word of your desires and instructions to your followers, or gather a specific type of offering, whatever you want. But we have not been so presumptuous as to give commands in your name.”

Seeing as people everywhere seemed to attribute actions and intent to her that she had never taken and did not endorse, Siobhan had her doubts about how well Deidre and the other “awakened” had really managed to keep their own strange opinions out of the Undreaming Order. “I would like to see the book you have been working on.”

Deidre opened one of the desk drawers and carefully took out a binder. The front half was filled with pages that had been neatly printed and hole-punched, while the back half was wrinkled sheets covered in surprisingly neat and uniform cursive. The front of the binder was labeled very simply, The Book of the Raven Queen.

While Deidre sat watching her intently, Siobhan turned to the first page and began to read.

It was really just a collection of exaggerated tales about the Raven Queen told as first-person accounts. Sometimes, there were multiple versions of an event told from different perspectives, including the contradictions and variations that came standard with witness accounts. ‘At least Deidre had the journalistic integrity to record the truth, even when it opened the book up to skepticism, rather than trying to force all the accounts to meet her narrative.’ That they were not totally fabricated did not make them any less exaggerated, however. Siobhan wondered how it was possible for people to remember something she had been involved in with technically accurate events but such wildly exaggerated details, emotional responses, and conclusions about her purpose.

Beyond that, several stories were either totally false, or were perhaps real, but had nothing to do with her. She was not in control of people’s dreams, coincidental miracles or misfortune, or the actions of every single individual raven in the city.

“It is a living document,” Deidre explained as Siobhan got to the handwritten parts. “Meant to grow as we record and look to learn from your actions.”

Siobhan took the fountain pen from Deidre’s desk and marked several of the accounts. “These are either false, or someone has been impersonating me.”

Deidre’s eyes widened with horror. “I will remove them immediately, my queen! Should I… Do you wish any action to be taken against those who gave false reports?”

Siobhan looked down to the binder, wondering where, exactly, she would draw the line between “real” and “false” reports. For all she knew, these people actually believed what they were saying. “No,” she admitted with defeat. “But do not allow people to go around believing they are true. Issue a retraction, I suppose.”

The end of the binder had a list, Tenets of the Raven Queen (Extrapolated).

Several were distinctly combative, such as the one that endorsed a commitment to revenge as a deterrent against people harming others.

Siobhan crossed out those that seemed particularly likely to lead to disaster and, after some thought, wrote a few replacement tenets in the careful, elegant script she had created for the Raven Queen. When she was finished, the simple list contained eight tenets. A couple still seemed dangerous in the right hands, with the right interpretation, but Siobhan still felt them to be right, and so did not remove them.

All thinking and feeling beings should be held to the same standards and afforded the same fundamental rights.

One’s body and mind are inviolable, and should be subject to their own will alone. All beings should have the freedom to pursue their own will.

Treat others with compassion, empathy, and respect, for you never know when great power may be disguised in a humble form.

Encroaching on the rights of another opens one up to reprisal and the loss of one’s own rights.

The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws, institutions, and the authority of those with great power.

It is dangerous to meddle with things one does not understand. If one wishes to meddle, they must first understand.

Beliefs should conform to one’s best understanding of reality. One should take care never to distort facts to fit one’s beliefs.

Actions have complex consequences. One should strive not to cause harm through their actions, and when they inevitably fail, do their best to rectify their mistake and resolve any harm that may have been caused.

As she stared at the list, an existential dread crept up the back of Siobhan’s neck like cold spider legs, accompanied by the premonition that whatever bulwark had been holding back the metaphorical tide, that threshold had now been crossed. What was to come could not be stopped. Hopefully, she would at least be able to guide it.

Siobhan looked out into the central hall, where the children had just exited the infirmary.

They were freshly bathed, and moving their limbs and pressing on certain spots with amazement. “It doesn’t hurt at all!” the young boy announced, crouching down and then hopping like a frog.

Gera, Jackal, and the homeless man the Undreaming Order had rescued came down from the second floor, with Gera looking somewhat fatigued from her efforts. “It is done,” she announced.

“You should do the children, too,” Betty said. “Just in case.”

Gera hesitated, but after watching the children for a few seconds, she nodded. “Come, then. I will show you some magic designed by the Raven Queen,” she said, turning to walk back upstairs.

The little boy’s pants had rips in both knees.

“Does the flock have any needs? Are you getting enough donations to help with food, clothing, a safe place to sleep, and basic healing?” Siobhan asked.

Deidre’s eyes flicked toward the children passing by, and then down to her lap. She smiled to herself, then said, “Resources are always a struggle for an organization like this, my queen. People are more generous than you might expect, but many of the flock are struggling themselves. That said, we have so far been able to provide one meal a day, to mend clothing and provide footwear, and for a select few, rent a room that they can share with other members of the flock long enough to sleep. Healing… that is very expensive, my queen. Those who need it, we send to the Verdant Stag. They do not exclude those who live outside their territory from their loans.”

Siobhan thought of Oliver’s ideals—that everyone should be rich enough to live a satisfying life, as well as have the opportunity for an education. That given the opportunity and the right leadership, society could uplift itself. That there was no need for anyone to die from lack of coin.

She thought of the girl’s request to go to school. ‘What kind of skills can lift people out of hopelessness and poverty?’ she wondered. She stared at Deidre’s fountain pen and then added one final tenet to the list, leaving the number at nine.

There is the potential for greatness in all thinking and feeling beings, and it is our duty to nurture that potential through caring for the innocent and helpless, offering opportunities to the hungry, and striving continuously to better ourselves.

“Let me introduce myself more formally, Deidre Johnson.” She gave the “Self” part of the chant she had created, speaking clearly and slowly as she stared into the other woman’s widening eyes.

“I am a changeling like the seasons,

A daughter of shadow and light,

Of Charybdis mists and raven’s flight,

And always I seek after mysteries.”

She pointed to the last tenet. “You, too, must continue to seek. I hope that all of the flock can learn to read, do basic math, and learn some basic meditations.” The former two would set someone up for entry level schooling, or perhaps vocational training, and the latter could be helped to strengthen the mind against hardship and trauma. As Millennium called them, the “bad thoughts.” These were basic life skills that everyone should have.

“I do not want you to force anyone who refuses, but it should be strongly encouraged. For those who can accomplish this well, there will be more to follow.”

Deidre swallowed convulsively. “Even for us awakened? For me?”

“Surely, if you want it.”

“I do.”

Siobhan chuckled. “Okay. But first, see to the flock. You might be able to source teachers from among your number, but you will likely need funds to make this possible. Here.” Siobhan pulled out a Conduit from her new bag and placed it on the table. It was one of those she had taken from the Pendragon Corps, and which she had put in her bag for emergencies. Having three Conduits—two of them hidden—was perhaps overkill. If one believed in overkill when it came to something that could save their life.

Siobhan would have kept even more, if she could think of other places to hide them. ‘Perhaps at the nape of my neck, under my hair…’ she mused. She shook off the thought. Giving up one of her Conduits hurt in the part of her that was never satisfied no matter how much she had, always sure that hunger and fear and helpless desperation could return right around the corner, but she was still incredibly wealthy. She could afford to put poor children through school, if not the University itself.

Deidre looked from the polished celerium to Siobhan, and then back again. Cautiously, she reached out and took the Conduit. “Your will shall be done, my queen.”