Tessa’s eyes widen. “What are they saying?
The question takes me off guard. Should I know what they’re saying? If I had more control over my magic, would I be able to hear something more than murmuring? A tight fist of fear closes around my heart. “I can’t tell.”
Tessa’s expression melts into something like pity. “Oh, well, I’m sure it’s just the nausea. Once you adjust, you’ll probably have fascinating tales to share.”
She sounds a lot more confident than I feel.
Maybe Tessa comes from a longer line of bone magic than I do. Maybe that’s why she has more control of her magic already. Not because there’s something wrong with me, but because she’s exceptional.
My fingers worry at one of the hairpins I’ve been holding. “Are you the first Healer in your family?”
“No,” she says, and I breathe a little easier—until she continues. “My tenth great-grandmother was a Healer, so I guess it runs in the family but just skipped nine generations.” Her laugh is easy. Carefree.
The hairpin in my hand snaps in two. I suddenly want to end this conversation. “Speaking of last night, I didn’t really hear the instructions. Do you know where I’m supposed to be?”
Tessa gives me a bright smile. “That’s why I was trying to wake you. We need to leave now if we’re going to make it on time. Today is the binding ceremony.”
My hurried steps echo in time with my heartbeat as Tessa and I rush down the long corridor toward the great hall, where the binding ceremony will be held. The kenning is only an invitation to study bone magic; it’s the binding that seals the apprentice to their ability. Once the ceremony is over, there’s no going back.
The great hall is a rectangular-shaped room three times as long as it is wide, with massive bone columns that support soaring ceilings. Sunlight pours through the windows that line the left side of the hall, bathing the room in a brilliant white glow. Rows of narrow wooden tables, each holding six stone basins, fill the entire center of the room. Next to the basins are neatly folded cloaks in a variety of colors.
Tessa’s astonished sigh perfectly expresses my awe.
Norah stands on a dais at the far side of the hall. “Welcome, apprentices,” she says. “Before we get started, please have a look around. Notice the ten windows—they represent the members of Kastelia’s Grand Council. Five men and five women—one member from each of the bone magics and four members who have no magic at all. Perhaps some of you might sit on the council one day. Many of our current council members had their binding ceremonies in this very room.”
She goes on to discuss how the trees carved into the walls mimic the many branches of the Shard River, how the circular window behind the dais should remind us of fate, while the stained glass inside symbolizes the three essential tattoos.
My knees feel weak, and I don’t know if it’s the bone walls getting to me again or if it’s a side effect of being mesmerized.
“It’s time,” Norah says finally, pressing her palms together in front of her. “Please find your name and stand beside your basin.”
Tessa turns to me. “Good luck.” Her voice is just above a whisper, as if she doesn’t want to spoil the moment with noise.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “And to you, too.”
I find my name on a table near the front of the room. My heart beats out a staccato rhythm. There was a time—when I was very young—that I dreamed of this day. Of becoming a Bone Charmer like my mother and Gran. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my memory, I can feel that little girl standing on her tiptoes, eager and excited along with all the other apprentices. But then more recent images rise in my mind—fire and flame, and the terrifying sensation of being trapped—and that ancient spark of anticipation vanishes. This isn’t the future I would have chosen for myself.
Not anymore.
“You are all interconnected,” Norah says solemnly. “Masons craft the bone flutes that Watchers use to control animals and the weapons that Breakers use to protect our country. Mixers blend bone potions that Healers use to treat patients. And, of course, Charmers perform readings on us all. You will get to know each other in your seminar classes as you learn the things that are crucial for all who practice bone magic—anatomy, history, ethics. I encourage you to help and support each other.”
She lets her gaze sweep across the room and fall on each of us. “But your most important relationship at Ivory Hall will be formed as you receive individualized instruction.”
A door opens near the front of the hall and dozens of men and women in colorful cloaks pour into the room.
Norah sweeps her hands in front of her, palms to the ceiling. “Masters,” she says, “meet your apprentices.” One by one the teachers find their pupils. My gaze sweeps across the room. A young man, no older than thirty, stands in front of Bram. An older woman, plump and friendly-looking, stands in front of Tessa.
And then, finally, someone stands in front of me. “Hello, Saskia,” she says. “I’m Master Kyra.” She’s neither young nor old. Her skin is a warm brown, and her hair is pulled back from her face and gathered in an intricate twist at the nape of her neck. She wears a red cloak.
I open my mouth to reply, but Kyra gives a quick shake of her head. I press my lips together.
“Masters and apprentices,” Norah says, “welcome to the binding. You may begin.”
A low hum fills the room as the Masters begin talking all at once.
“Saskia Holte,” Kyra says, “you have been chosen as a Bone Charmer with the Second Sight, and today you will bind yourself to this magic as it has bound itself to you.”
She reaches for my hand and pricks my index finger with a needle. “In front of you lie the bones of Charmers who have come before. Do you witness with your blood that you will honor their legacy?”
“Yes,” I say, tipping my finger until a single drop falls into the basin.
“Do you vow to use your gifts for the benefit of others and not for personal gain?”
“Yes.” Another drop of blood.
“Do you vow to help your fellow citizens find happiness, while matching their talents to the needs of the country?”
“Yes.” A third drop spills to the bones below.
“Do you promise to follow every tenet of your training, to uphold the values that you learn within these walls, and to use your magic for good?”
“Yes.” I have to squeeze my finger to force another drop to fall.
Master Kyra picks up a stone and a bit of flint and sets the bones on fire. She pulls a pouch from her pocket and sprinkles it over the basin. The flames shoot higher and turn a bright, cool blue.
“Saskia Holte,” Kyra says, “you have been bound to this magic and may now don your training cloak.”
She nods toward the folded bundle at the side of the basin, the same red shade that she wears. As I unfurl it, I notice that it’s thicker than the silken robes the Masters wear. I glance around the room—each of the magics has its own color—black for Breakers, blue for Healers, green, purple, orange—but the apprentice cloaks are all a few inches shorter than the ones the Masters wear. And they’re all made of wool.