Chapter 4: The Witch’s Tapestry

  The stars had something to say, and tonight, Trisstessa was there to listen. Seated on a simple but comfortable cedarwood stool, she worked meticulously at the spirit loom before her. Her crystal bobbin gleamed in the starlight as she pulled the weft of soul silk through the warp of fate.

  Her expression loomed behind her—a translucent projection of a woman with four arms and three heads. The central head bore the face of a woman in her prime; to the right, a young girl just entering adolescence; to the left, a silver-haired crone. She wore loose, flowing robes with long sleeves that concealed her hands, and a wide-brimmed, conical witch's hat flopped gently atop all three heads. The hat and robes mirrored Trisstessa’s own in shape and cut—but where Trisstessa wore vermillion adorned with golden flowers, her expression shimmered in robes of starlight, the night sky woven into every thread.

  From these celestial sleeves, Trisstessa drew the thread she wove. As she worked, her expression stood silent and steady, one hand always extended, drawing thread from its sleeve as though the stars themselves had gifted her the material.

  “The stars are agitated tonight. They sense something coming. Something powerful. Something angry.” She stroked the black cat resting idly on her lap as she spoke. It purred fitfully in response.

  “I know Gabriel. I know. I’m worried too. Our Imperial Sire is making increasingly desperate plays to try to remedy the situation. It’s anyone's guess whether his plan will actually work. All these summoned outworlders with no true connection to our world. And he expects they can save us. It’s as half-baked a plan as can be conceived. But whose going to tell him otherwise? Certainly not the prince.”

  A tendril of cold wind blew up from below. It tugged at her attention. Pulling her gaze away from the twinkling of the stars above, to the soft warm glow of the spirit lanterns below. From her vantage point at highest tower of the Imperial Observatory she had a full all surrounding view of the capital. From the imperial palace in the center, to the furthest outer walls of the city that stopped at the Elromen Mountains in the east, and the Sirya River in the west. She could see the countless spirit lanterns drifting idly in the air, whilst the floating pagodas of great houses stood imperious among them, lording their position over the peasants whose very souls kept their bastions afloat.

  “From this high up, even those oh so grand and mighty noble houses look small,” she whispered before glancing up at the stars again. “I wonder how small we must look from their perspective.”

  Eyeing her expression behind her, she gestured for the witch to begin pulling at the threads from the bottom of her robe. These contained the soft orange colors to match the light of the lanterns below. Cutting the last thread for the night sky. She began weaving an impression of the city, feeling what the people of the city felt. The her hands wove through the loom with preternatural speed, capturing the capital instantly in thread. The image she wove was not of the city as it appeared to be, but the city as it truly was.

  The Imperial Capital City of Velithra to any outside observer would seem as a glittering basin flush with soul-light. The sheer opulence the Empire displayed by casually burning so many spirit lanterns alone would have been staggering to any peasant or even well to do noble from the countryside. Then there were the floating pagodas, the sky gondolas, the domesticated spirit beasts, and the golden spirit blossom trees. To any outside observer, Velithra would appear as the epitome of wealth, power, and elegance. As Tristessa thumbed at the gaps in her tapestry, she was reminded that appearance was seldom ever reality.

  Her weaving reflected the city as it actually was. The rich vibrant lights, pulsing with spirit energy in the rich districts. And the dark voids forming in places where people had sold too many pieces of themselves. She paused on one particularly greyed out neighborhood. Zakuten, one of the cities most infamous red light districts. In physical space it was lit dimly with the soft glow of red spirit lanterns. In her tapestry though, it appeared devoid of color, and almost entirely threadbare. She thumbed that spot sympathetically. Her heart going out to the people who had fallen into a void that she had no way to pull them out from. When the blight finally came to the capital, she had no doubt Zakuten would be at its epicenter.

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  “If I told anyone that though. The Emperor would order the entire district and the people living inside it purged.”

  She looked over city again. “A city shimmering with lights.”

  She looked to her tapestry. “A city unraveling.”

  She stroked the cat. “And still they call it progress.”

  “Lady Witcheye,” came another voice.

  Tristessa turned around. The imperial stewardess kneeling before her wore sunset colored robes, denoting her close association with the imperial family. The golden phoenix pin on her lapel denoted her direct association with the Emperor himself. Trisstessa noticed how the messenger kept her neck straight not allowing her head to dip. It was a subtle tell, one most nobles and even the royal family would miss as it was a subtlety only those familiar with the court culture of the serving class would recognize. Kneeling on one knee with ones face downcast was standard etiquette when a servant addressed one of higher social standing. However, the stiff neck vs the bowed head was the difference between observing the custom and giving genuine respect. The subtle rigidness of the stewardess might have gone unnoticed by most but to Tristessa the message was clear.

  “Ten years since becoming the court magus and she still sees me as little more than the upjumped daughter of a concubine.”

  “Steward,” Tristessa greeted the kneeling woman.

  “His Imperial Majesty has called a conclave, he requests your presence in the strategy chambers within the hour.”

  “I see, to discuss the outworlders no doubt. The last one is in transit.”

  “Let’s see what she does with that information.”

  “I am but a humble servant and know nothing of such high matters.”

  “Of course you don’t, that’s why you are a steward and I am the court magus. Isn’t that right, Verona?”

  The stewardess gave no response to Trisstessa’s casual use of her given name. But she didn’t miss the way her fist tightened, ever so slightly.

  “I’m almost finished with my weaving. Inform his Imperial Majesty that I will be along shortly.”

  “By your leave then Lady Witcheye.” A rush of fire swept through under the surface of the stewardess’ skin, cracks seemed to form on her flesh from which a glow like the flame of a hearth leaked out. Then her body went ashen gray as if she had suddenly been burned up from the inside out. A gust of wind blew causing the ashen grey figure of the woman to scatter into dust.

  “I will never stop finding that disturbing,” Gabriel said as he jumped down from Trisstessa’s lap and enjoyed a nice long stretch.

  “It’s simply how her ability works. Not a flaw against her character,” Trisstessa responded as she resumed her weaving.

  “Everytime she does that her soul literally burns her body from the inside out. That must be unimaginable painful. And she never so much as peeps. You don’t find that disconcerting?” the cat asked as he gave his mistress that sidelong glance the felines across all realms were famous for.

  “She is strong and well disciplined in body, mind, and spirit. The Emperor’s choice of her as his steward wasn’t just to let her family save face you know.”

  “She clearly doesn’t see it that way. But I digress. You almost done?” Gabriel asked as he nonchalantly began licking the back of his paw.

  “Almost. Just a few more warps. The stars have something important to tell me and I suspect it has something to do with the last outworlder we’re expecting.”

  “Do you think they’ll bring treats?”

  Trisstessa supressed a chuckle as she gave her a familiar a grin. “I don’t know. They might.”

  “I hope so. All the other outworlders showed up empty handed.”

  Tristessa finished pulling the last few lines of spirit thread. When she cut the sacrifice thread from her bobbin she stepped back to see the truth the stars revealed. Her eyes widened. There in the center of the sky on the horizon line where the heavens met the earth in a blend of red and black threads she saw the serpentine body of a dragon. Fangs, flame and claw exposed ready to tear and burn. She looked closer at the image. Some of the strands of red trailed off the dragon’s body and she realized that they represented streams of blood, open wounds. The stars directly above the dragon bent away in an arch as if trying to evade its path.

  “A dangerous beast comes our way. One that is angry and wounded. Even the stars wish to give him a wide berth.” Her brow furrowed in concern, “What has Hapscratch sent us this time?”