Latgalay pushed the scrying bowl away in disgust, upturning the bowl and spilling water across the table and floor. Another failed attempt.

Three days had passed with no word. Not from messengers sent to and fro from the raiding party, nor from villagers stopping by the crone’s nest. Latgalay was bored, but she feared if she left the crone’s nest that Gerda, the chief’s aunt, would find her and put her to work with the other girls, and that was beneath Latgalay. But not all was wasted time, for in those three days, she had read all of Karreki’s scrolls and parchments, she had practiced her runes, and she had even brushed and scrubbed the nest clean. But after all of that, she was still bored, and she had attempted to scry without Karreki’s guidance.

But scrying without Karreki turned out to be far more difficult than Latgalay expected.

Thinking of Karreki, Latgalay remembered the crone’s parting words, before leaving on the raid. Karreki had said, “To raise up our tribes from the mud, we need the old ways. If you heed one instruction, then heed this: Return the tribes to the old ways and restore our people to their rightful glory.”

Latgalay growled, also remembering how the crone had abandoned her, hogging all of the glory, and all of the time with Trexnos on the raid. It should have been Latgalay accompanying Trexnos, not Karreki. But at least Latgalay could spy upon them, that is, if she could scry successfully.

Attempting once more, she refilled the bowl, and summoned her power. She delved a small tendril of her dusjos into the water, demanding the water show her the crone, the raid, and Trexnos. The water shimmered for a second, but nothing more, except ripples. Brekekay! Latgalay swore.

A knock at the door. Kainis had come to visit. Her belly stuck out wider than the door frame and her ankles had swollen to twice their normal size. She groaned and sat in Karreki’s favorite chair.

“I need something for my hips,” Kainis complained as she began rubbing her feet. “And my everything else as well. I ache everywhere.”

Latgalay examined Kainis. She checked her wrists and her face, and Latgalay put an ear to Kainis’ stomach.

“Hips hurt the worst though,” Kainis said. “I asked Gerda for aid. She said Karreki might have helped, before she left. Gerda could do naught except encourage me to give birth already, as if I had the choice.”

“But Gerda did not think of me? Or that I could help?” Latgalay asked, feeling her pride begin to burn. Latgalay was just as adept as Karreki, and far superior to that fool Gerda.

“Gerda does not know, you that is all,” Kainis said quickly, sensing Latgalay’s rising anger. “But I am here. I believe you can. Can you not give me something? Anything? Anything at all to ease this suffering?”

Latgalay got up and moved among the shelves in the pantry and sought for the herbs without looking. Kainis was well past her date. If Gerda was so weak that she could not ease Kainis’ suffering, then Latgalay would.

“…Gerda did say to tell you no blackleaf,” Kainis added, as an afterthought.

Latgalay scoffed. What does Gerda know about herbs?

Latgalay reached into one jar, felt the prickly contents, and moved on to the next. Dried heather would not help. She remembered the drills that Karreki had instilled upon Latgalay. Latgalay had been forced to gather ingredients at night without a candle, without any light, and she had been forced to recite each ingredient and its properties and uses. Heather soothed headaches, redmoss improved the blood, nightshade eased pain, and blackleaf eased everything.

Latgalay had learned the herbs quickly. For every mistake led to Karreki’s striking Latgalay with her cane. If she took too long to answer—Whack. If she missed reciting a single property of an ingredient—Whack. It had been painful, grueling, but also effective.

Latgalay grabbed three pinches of blackleaf and a half pinch of aconite. She went to reach for redmoss when her hand bumped against polished wood—an out of place chest. The same that held the figurines of animals that Karreki had shown her. It appeared that Karreki had returned the chest to an incorrect place upon the shelves. Latgalay pushed the thought of the chest and of the figurines out of her mind. She had a mixture to prepare, and she would shame Gerda for her inability.

Latgalay came out of the pantry mixing the ingredients in the mortar. She grinded them to dust and beyond recognition. She filled a small pouch with the medicine. “Redmoss and some nettles,” Latgalay said, intentionally withholding the fact that blackleaf was also included, for if Latgalay had mentioned that, then it was likely that Gerda would also discover the blackleaf, and Latgalay had no desire for a direct confrontation with that awful matron.

Kainis took the pouch but did not rise. Instead, she leaned back into the chair and put her feet up on the table. And Latgalay did not argue the disrespectful gesture. Afterall, Kainis was the closest that Latgalay had to a friend, and more importantly, after spending three days in seclusion, the company was desirable.

“When does Karreki return?” Kainis asked. “I wonder if I should have her work Soitos on this babe”

Latgalay shook her head. “I would not wait for her return. For I am not certain she will return.”

Kainis opened her mouth and closed it a few times before asking why.

Latgalay shrugged. “She is frail and in poor health, and the journey is not for the weak.”

And as they spoke, and without realizing it, Latgalay stared back at the pantry, back at the shelf, where the misplaced chest of figurines sat. If Latgalay were ever going to be more than an apprentice, she would have to grab onto power. But how? Karreki had mentioned a guide hidden among the figurines—perhaps like Karreki’s wolf?

“What are you staring at?” Kainis asked. She tried to follow Latgalay’s eyes.

To answer, Latgalay rose up, and retrieved the chest of figurines, and set it on the table. Kainis ran her hands over the polished wood and caught her breath as Latgalay opened the chest.

“What are those?” Kainis asked.

Latgalay pulled out a clay cat to hold up under the light.

“I am not certain,” Latgalay said. “Though they are certainly clay figurines, I do believe that these are something more. Something aligned with the spirits.”

Kainis pulled out the raven figurine that was blacker than obsidian. She held it up close to her eyes and examined it from every angle, watching the firelight glint of the ebony mirror finish. “This one is not clay,” Kainis said. “And it does seem to be powerful. Perhaps if you used your power, your soitos…?” Kainis stopped herself mid sentence and blushed, likely having realized she was lecturing a druid’s apprentice on the matters of a druid, where Kainis was just a girl.

But Latgalay thought that the idea held merit, and paid no mind to Kainis’s slight transgression.

Sol Latgalay selected the least dangerous of the figurines to experiment with--a small cat figurine. She held the figurine and delved the smallest amount of dusjos into the figurine. She found that the figurine was a clay exterior about a small stone heart. And as her dusjos reached the stone, the stone began to twitch rhythmically.

Thump—thump—thump.

And inexplicably, a sense of revulsion washed over Latgalay, forcing her to break the connection early. But she was heartened by the almost success, and she selected a different figurine, that of a snake.

She again delved the figurine with dusjost, and similar to the cat, the snake was made of a clay exterior around a small stone heart. And similar to the cat, the snake’s heart sucked in the dusjos, but unlike the cat, the snake’s heart beat harder, and the snake twitched. There was still a sense of revulsion, though not as strong as with the cat. But then the heart began to pull dusjos from Latgalay, draining her soitos faster than she wished. Of its own volition, the serpent flopped over onto its side. It began sucking more of her soitos, and she panicked, jerking away from the snake, and breaking the connection. The snake returned to a plain figurine.

“How?” Kainis gasped when she saw the snake figurine briefly come to life. “You did that?...” She trailed off as she stared at Latgalay with an awestruck expression.

Latgalay did not answer. Her hands shook. Did that figurine attempt to kill her? If one’s Soitos drained completely, death or worse may result. Karreki had always cautioned Latgalay to avoid pushing herself to complete exhaustion. And that figurine had drawn more and more soitos. What would have happened if Latgalay had been unable to break the connection?

Perhaps, Latgalay thought, perhaps the crone was right on this, and perhaps I am not ready?