Calanthe Colt

Her mother had sent her a message on her aethervoicer asking her to make an extra portion as they’d be having a guest. Who knows which distant relative or old friend her mother had run into during her work as Little Ockstead’s travel tube catcher? But Leta, the household cook, was used to fluctuating numbers at the dinner table. What she wasn’t used to was distant cousins asking what happened to her job at the bakery (business failure), when she would be starting that pâtisserie course she wanted to do (when she could find the money for course fees), and sidling around the elephant in the room: that in a nation of mages, Leta had no usable magic, and therefore was someone to be pitied.

Well, her mum never thought less of her, even if the school bullies and the busybodies in the supermarket had.

As if summoned by Leta’s stray thoughts, her mum chose that moment to stomp through the front door. Leta peered down the hallway to see who she’d brought home. Her mum unwound her scarf and took off her woolly hat. She scrubbed her short dark hair into a semblance of order, hair that was so different from Leta’s own long, reddish mop. “Please, come in,” she said, and waved someone into the hallway. There was a note of excitement in her mum’s voice that piqued Leta’s attention.

Leta put the tray of scones into the oven, wiped her hands, and stepped into the hallway. In the entryway, wrapped in a fashionable woollen coat and fur hat and leaning on a gold-topped cane, stood an older woman. She looked familiar to Leta, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen her before. 

The woman took a moment to slip off her shiny court shoes and place them on the rack, hang up her coat, and remove her hat, revealing short, curled steel-grey hair. Her sharp green eyes honed straight in on Leta. “Hello, you must be the younger Ms Wildwinter. My name is Mirabelle Crowlea. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She held out her slim hand. Her nails were sharp and painted an unusual navy blue. 

Leta took the woman’s hand on instinct. “Lovely to meet you.” She gave her mother a quizzical look. She had no context for who this guest was.

“You know that aethercast I was watching last year? The one where they’re looking for the new Goddess Incarnate?” 

How could Leta have forgotten? The ‘cast had taken Gealdland by storm. Instead of letting the country’s newly ascended God Incarnate search for his Goddess Incarnate by travelling around as was traditional, some company had got a hold of him. They had turned it all into a reality aethercast with hopeful contestants and whatnot. Leta had found the whole thing distasteful. “Yeah, I remember.” 

“This is Seer Mirabelle from the aethercast!”

With the right context, Leta remembered seeing this older lady on the aetherweb. She’d performed readings and divinations for the contestants and for God Incarnate Jack. But what was she doing in their entryway?

“I ran into her at the travel tube station,” explained Leta’s mum. “Seer Mirabelle wasn’t aware of how, uh, quiet the village is in the evening. She has accommodation for the evening, but…”

But there was no restaurant in the village, only a noisy pub.

“So I offered her a seat at our table.”

“I am so sorry to intrude on such short notice,” said Seer Mirabelle.

“Not at all,” said Leta. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Before long, the three of them sat around the kitchen table.

“So, what brings you to Little Ockstead?” asked Leta’s mum. “We’re a bit off the beaten trail here. Thankfully for me: I wouldn’t want too much of a workload!” Leta’s mum caught and sent every travel capsule to and from Little Ockstead. When she left work for the evening, that was the end of local long-distance travel, and people had to take a transport to get around instead.

“I am looking for something in preparation for the next season of our aethercast. Are you aware of Goddess Found?”

“I’m a fan of the ‘cast!” said Leta’s mum. “It’s great.” 

Mirabelle smiled. “Thank you so much for saying so, Ms Wildwinter.”

“Call me Carol.”

Mirabelle acknowledged Leta’s mum with a stately nod. “Do you watch our aethercast, Leta?” 

Leta jumped. “Oh, um, a bit.” A change in the scent of dinner caught her attention. She rose and removed the scones from the oven, stirred the stew, and set about serving dinner while she listened to the seer.

Mirabelle put her teacup down on the table. “I could beat about the bush for a while, I suppose, but perhaps it is best if I am forthright. While performing a series of readings preparing for the next season of our aethercast, I had a vision that contained a portent. That vision brought me to your village. I did not know what I was looking for until I arrived, but sitting here at your table, I have a theory.” 

“A vision… brought you here,” said Leta’s mum in wonder. 

Leta’s stomach flipped at the seer’s words. “What kind of portent?” 

There must have been something accusatory about her voice because her mum made a shushing motion, but Mirabelle just smiled. “My job is to find those slight changes in circumstances that will weight fate one way or another. Sometimes the change can be tiny. Choosing a certain breakfast. Taking one route to work rather than another. I advise people of the slight changes they can make to increase the likelihood of achieving their goals. And I think I may find one of those slight changes here, one that will make it more likely for us to find the goddess on our aethercast this season.” 

Leta and her mum looked at one another. Leta found her own confusion mirrored on her mum’s face. “How can we help?” said her mum. 

“Does one of you need a job?” asked Mirabelle. 

“Oh! My daughter does! Terrible thing, but the bakery she was working at shut up shop. She’s even had to move back in with her boring old mum, poor thing.”

In truth, Leta’s attempt at going out flatting had only lasted eighteen months until she’d been back at her mum’s again. And she’d been back home all the time anyway, since she’d only been living around the corner.

“Well, Leta,” said Mirabelle, “I think we can help each other. I need an assistant for the aethercast this year, and since my vision brought me here, I am sure it is you I am supposed to offer the job to. Would you like to come work for me?” 

Leta gaped. “It’s a kind offer, but I don’t like the idea of being on an aethercast,” she said. “I’d feel very nervous about everyone looking at me.”

Mirabelle smiled. “The role would be behind the scenes. You wouldn’t appear in the aethercast itself.”

Her mum was making an encouraging face and nodding, the excitement near vibrating off her. 

Work behind the scenes on an aethercast? A trashy reality aethercast that she didn’t enjoy watching? Was her mum serious? But then again, a season of an aethercast wouldn’t take that long to capture, so she could stick it out. Also, maybe before turning it down, she should check if the pay would cover the course costs…  

And then there was that hopeful look in her mum’s eyes. She couldn’t bludge off her mother forever. She was already twenty-four! She had to stand on her own two feet.

“What would be my responsibilities? And may I ask about the pay?” 

Mirabelle beamed. “Good lady. Let me explain…” 

A sense of foreboding chilled Jack’s spine as the car approached Autumnwood Manor. A hive of activity swarmed the grounds. Late though it was, people were testing floodlights around one of the manor’s follies, a faux mini castle. No doubt it would be a location for one of those forced dates he’d hated last season. Since he hadn’t found his goddess yet, and the contract he signed with AllAether when he was broke and fresh back from his travels was still in effect, he had no choice but to do it all again. It was a magically binding contract, of course. The network owned his damned soul. 

Tyres crunched on gravel as the car circled a fountain and stopped by the grand manor entrance. At least the one waiting for him was a friend. Marcus was the host of the aethercast; he was also a producer at AllAether. They’d bonded when he’d given Jack welcome advice on how to handle his sudden fame.

Jack stepped into unseasonably chilly air that smelled of pine sap. “Jack!” called Marcus, the light of the foyer turning his blond hair into a halo. “Welcome to the manor!” 

The two men clasped hands. “Great to see you, Marcus. Are you doing well?” 

“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” His sharp grin showed off aether-ready dental work. “Come in out of the cold. I’ll show you to your suite.” 

Jack turned to get his suitcase, but found the driver standing behind him, suitcase in hand. Threads of light visible only to him showed Jack that the driver was hefting the suitcase with his kinetic magic. Jack still felt uneasy in such situations: he was a kinetic mage, damn it! He should be the one carrying things for people. But that wasn’t his life anymore. Instead, he followed Marcus into the manor. 

“How are you doing?” asked Marcus as they climbed the stairs and passed through the arched entranceway. “I heard you had a busy second Blessings tour.”

“That was a few months back now.” Jack had spent spring and early summer travelling the width and breadth of Gealdland. The number one most important job of the God Incarnate was to act as the focal point for the energy of the Hunter to flow into the land and boost its productivity. During the Blessings tours, Jack had to get as close as he could to as much of the land as he could. The rest happened naturally. There was a whole route that the officials from the head temple took him on. It would work better when the goddess ascended; the Harvester was more important in that regard. But Jack was doing his best in the meantime. It was why they were capturing the aethercast in autumn, as Jack’s Blessings tour was too important and time sensitive to postpone. “I’ve heard this year’s harvest had a boost.”

“Excellent. I bought stocks in farming a few years back, so thanks. Bet you got some nice donations out of it too.”

They’d paid him a stipend, sure. But the bulk of the money paid for Blessings rites went towards temple upkeep, not into his own pocket. People always assumed he was rich now, but it didn’t work that way. Jack shrugged. “A bit,” he said.

“A bit. Right.” Marcus paused and gestured expansively. “What do you think, God Incarnate?”

Jack craned his neck to look around. Any refurbishment of the foyer over the years had retained its character. The dark wood bannister of the double staircase shone, and the marble floor tiles glistened. Ancient well-maintained furniture filled the air with the scent of wood polish. Distant voices echoed from deeper in the manor, the words indistinguishable.

“Very nice,” he said. In truth, he found the manor to have a repressive atmosphere, but he doubted that’s what Marcus wanted to hear. 

A large portrait in prime position caught Jack’s attention. Its presence confused him until he noticed the darker strip of wall just visible beneath. A different portrait usually hung there; this one was for the ‘cast. It was his previous life, the former God Incarnate Archibald Sudbury. Beside him stood the previous Goddess Incarnate, Julia Sudbury. Jack gazed up at himself who was not himself. Archibald’s eyes had been blue and his hair a light brown, and he hadn’t been able to tan to save his life. He’d also tended to carry a bit of extra weight. Jack had brown eyes, dark hair, and a slimmer, taller build. He also tanned easily, courtesy of his grandmother who had hailed from the continent. Even so, he felt like he ought to remember being Archibald, but he couldn’t. He just had… impressions, from time to time. Like forgotten dreams.

The image of Julia Sudbury, as always, engendered a complicated mix of feelings. She represented what he was looking for and he couldn’t help but imagine his goddess having her dark curls and dark, soulful eyes. Which was silly, because if Jack differed from his previous life, his goddess would too. Who knew what she looked like? He wanted to know, though. Every fibre of his being wanted to find her. It was like hunger, or the need for air. 

“C’mon, Jack,” called Marcus from the stairs, jolting Jack out of his reverie. “Let’s get you settled.” 

Marcus led Jack to what had once been a family suite. Antique or replica furniture crowded the sitting room. Over-stuffed chairs brushed knees with ottomans. Heavy red draperies obscured the windows like sheets of blood. An air-freshening aetherdevice sat in a corner, its threads of magic twisting around the edges of the room, but the mustiness of the ancient furniture persisted. 

Jack stepped into the bedroom. It featured a four-poster bed draped in more red and surrounded by more horsehair stuffed armchairs. The bathroom contained a claw-footed bath and lots of marble. Gold accents were everywhere. The entire suite was too much. Too much of everything.  

“The aethercast has upped its production quality, as you can see,” said Marcus. “Isn’t it divine? Better than that industrial-style holiday home we used last season.” 

Jack had preferred the clean lines of the industrial-style place, even if it had felt cold and soulless, but he nodded as if he agreed with Marcus, anyway. 

“Are there any modern conveniences?”

Marcus lifted the hatch of an escritoire to reveal a large aetherweb globe within. “Of course. We’re not cutting you off entirely.”

Jack walked over and tapped the glass. It lit up, ready for his credentials. Threads of magic light spun up around it. When he had first ascended and began to see magic in action, he had found sights like this bewildering. He was now accustomed to it. Mostly. “Thanks,” he said to Marcus. “I’ll check in with a few people, tell them I’ve arrived. What do I need to know about this season of the aethercast?”

Marcus tsked. “We’ll have a full house meeting on Saturday where we’ll update everyone. Just get settled in for now. Take a rest. Put your feet up.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “Is there a Singing Grove on the property?”

Marcus shrugged. “Probably, but why do you ask? We’ve picked the contestants for their magical expertise, among other things. They won’t need the protection of a ring of magical trees. And it’s not as if you need to practise magic, eh? You’ve got new innate powers now! Lucky you!”

Jack held in a sigh. Sure, he’d received the ability to see magic. But what about his kinetic magic? “I want to practise my own magic, the one I had before. I don’t get much of a chance anymore, and I think I’m getting sloppy.”

Marcus smiled and shook his head. “Jack, you need to accept what a big deal you are now. You don’t need to exhaust your magic being a labourer to make ends meet. The whole of Gealdland is going to be paying you money to, like, bless their tilled fields and their milking herds, and kiss their babies for good luck and whatnot.”

Jack tried not to show how disappointed he was. He thought Marcus, who had held onto his own magic despite not needing it for aethercasting, would have understood. “OK,” he said instead.

Marcus clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Good man. I know it’s a big adjustment, but it’s for the best. I’ll let you get settled in then.” He backed towards the door, shooting finger-guns at Jack. “You’re going to be great. We’re going to have a great season!” 

Jack sighed after Marcus left. He ought to be more positive about the aethercast, like Marcus was. Yes, he found it restrictive. Yes, he had his concerns. But there were reasons he’d thought it was a good idea to sign on in the first place. The aethercast might well introduce him to the goddess and let her ascend. That would be fantastic. Also, he’d had a rocky start to being a God Incarnate because by the time he had ascended many people had already become disillusioned with the process, and convinced that the magic he fed back into the land and the people was just an old fable and not real at all. There were even protesters, convinced he was a fake and taking attention away from the real issues of Gealdland. Maybe, just maybe, the aethercast could convince those people that it was real, that he wasn’t faking it for attention from the Geald Council. 

Maybe this aethercast would have a positive outcome, if only he stuck with it. Then all this fuss would be worth it.