Chapter 33 – The Sight

The key didn’t fit properly into the lock on the first try. Valentina jiggled it, turned it, tried to overcome resistance of the heavy, rusty iron key in the lock, and then there was a solid click, and the door swung open inward.

Pinfeather Lane was a rather narrow street, barely wide enough for a cart and lined with modest but decent half-timbered houses. To the right of Valentina’s new home was a bookbinder’s workshop, and to the left lived a very elderly former professor from Bridgewater University.

The remaining houses on the street were home to elderly scholars, a few wealthy Essence Weavers, three widows, and a candlemaker who had his shop on the street corner.

She had spent two days in her old attic room, during which Vyxara had given her no peace.

“I refuse,” the demon had declared on the first morning, after Valentina had spent the night in the uncomfortable, narrow bed, “to spend another year in this drafty hole. You can afford something better, so do it.”

And so Valentina had searched, but at first she hadn’t found anything. A room on the ground floor of the university, near Innogen’s quarters, was simply too expensive for what it offered, and the walls were far too thin. She hadn’t taken a rented floor above a soap maker’s shop because the stench had been simply unbearable.

Then, just this morning, she had seen a notice on the university board, and an hour later she had been sitting in front of the clerk of a certain Master Runwick and, after a brief tour, had signed the lease. Runwick was a wealthy merchant who owned several houses in the city. He had also been a customer of hers at Violet Delights once before, but of course he didn’t know that.

Now she stood in the entryway and let her gaze wander through her new home. The ground floor was simple, with a small parlor facing the street, behind which was a kitchen that opened onto a tiny, walled garden that was quite dirty.

She climbed the creaking staircase. On the first floor, there was a proper study with space for a desk, bookshelves along two walls, and enough room to set up a small laboratory. Next to it was a living room, small but with a fireplace and a window facing the street. The half-timbered structure was slightly crooked, like the whole house, but the beams were solid and the wood well-maintained.

“Once we’ve properly secured the study, we’ll be able to work here undisturbed,” said Vyxara with satisfaction.

The second floor, directly under the roof, was the bedroom, but it offered much more space than Valentina’s drafty attic room at the university. It contained a proper, wide feather bed and a dressing area with a decent mirror.

Valentina sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over the simple but clean woolen blanket. No shared hallways and no thin attic walls through which every cough from the neighbors could be heard.

She could have guests over without anyone finding out.

“Still modest for a future countess,” Vyxara remarked, “but more than adequate for a well-to-do student in Bridgewater. I’m satisfied.”

“Well, that’s the main thing,” Valentina smiled.

In the late afternoon and throughout the next day, hired hands came and went, hauling her trunks full of books and clothes from the university’s attic. Valentina showed them the way up the narrow stairs, gave generous tips she couldn’t have afforded a year ago, and began unpacking.

Once everything was in its place, Valentina stood in the study and gazed in wonder at the shelves and her new desk.

Two years ago, she could barely afford parchment and candles. Her father had gone into debt and sold seed so she could study. And now she had a house of her own. Well, a rented house. But still.

“You earned this money,” said Vyxara. “Even if it was on your back, work is work. Stop being ashamed of it.”

Valentina shuddered at the thought of her parents and what they would say if they knew how a lot of that money had been earned. Better that they didn’t know.

~

Toward evening, after cooking and eating a light meal, Valentina locked the front door and went back upstairs to the study, where her travel chest stood in the corner.

She knelt down and activated the hidden mechanism that opened the false bottom. The Eye of Deceit lay on top, wrapped in oilcloth. Beneath it were the forbidden books she had owned since her first year and had lugged all the way to Vandercourt and back.

She carefully removed the artifact and placed it in the small iron box on the desk, which she had purchased a few days earlier for this very purpose.

She stowed the iron box itself in a cavity beneath the floorboards, between two ceiling beams, which Vyxara had pointed out to her during the tour and which offered more than enough space for the box.

She discreetly distributed the forbidden books among a treatise on geometry, a compendium on the history of the Altothal language, and a collection of medical case studies. Nothing that would stand out at a cursory glance.

Then she set to work on the actual task.

Securing the study took the rest of the evening. She embedded large, powerful Essence patterns into the walls and floor as foundational protective layers, and on the window frames and the door, she added finer, far less conspicuous patterns that would give unwanted intruders a painful welcome.

“Try this,” said Vyxara, guiding her through a series of convoluted and almost organically configured patterns that Valentina had never seen before, but which blended surprisingly well with the existing layers. “This will make any attempt at Essence Listening from the outside virtually impossible. Not even a listener at your level could eavesdrop through this barrier.”

After nearly two hours of intense work, Valentina stretched and rotated her arms to ease the tension from her shoulders.

“We’re going to need more Distilled Essence,” Vyxara remarked as Valentina sank into her chair, exhausted. “Better quality, and a significant amount of it and we might even have to corrupt some of it before we can really start working with the Eye. But that can wait. Once the academic year starts up again, you can reach out to your contacts in the city.”

Valentina nodded silently. One thing at a time.

She leaned back and surveyed her wonderful new study.

If anyone asked, and someone was bound to ask eventually, the explanation was simple. The Greystone patronage and her position as lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Duskenshire during the Parliament would surely be justification enough for her improved circumstances. It was even mostly true. Her role at the duke’s court was public knowledge. No one needed to know about Violet Delights.

Valentina stood up, extinguished the Essence lamp, and went upstairs to her new bedroom. She washed up, put on her nightgown, and lay down in the soft, wide bed, which creaked only ever so softly under her.

“Not a bit drafty in here,” Vyxara murmured contentedly in her mind.

Valentina closed her eyes and smiled.

~

The next evening, Valentina sat alone in her new study, reading a treatise on advanced planar geometry that was on the reading list for the coming academic year.

“Put that away,” said Vyxara.

Valentina didn’t look up from the page. “Why? I’m studying.”

“You’ve been studying for three hours. We need to talk about something more important than planar geometry. I promised you something, at the end of last year.”

“That’s true, I guess.” Valentina set the book aside and leaned back.

She thought she knew what the demon was talking about. It was a promise Vyxara had made during the dark days following Gladder’s death, when Valentina had realized how dangerously close she’d come to disaster without even knowing it. The old gardener, a tool of hell, had lived right under her nose for years and Vyxara hadn’t been able to warn her because the rules of the summoning ritual, which she had performed so recklessly in her first year, simply forbade the demon from doing so.

The summoning had bound Vyxara to Valentina, but it had also set limits, unbreakable limits, and one of them was the prohibition against communicating with hell. And that apparently also included speaking about agents of hell or even communicating in their presence. The ritual treated any such utterance as communication with hell itself, and Vyxara could not cross that boundary, no matter how much the demon wanted to.

“That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about, little Weaver. I can’t change the rules of the summoning,” the demon’s voice said in Valentina’s head. “But I can teach you to see for yourself what I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“All right,” Valentina said resolutely. “I’m ready.”

“Are you though?” Vyxara sounded amused, but not mocking. “Let me explain what we’re going to try.”

Valentina closed her eyes and listened.

“Your perception of Essence is attuned to the eight natural Essences. They are like colors your eyes see in the world. At least for people who, like you, have the gift of perceiving them. But there is a ninth color, so to speak. One for which the human eye isn’t necessarily built.”

“Corruption.”

“Demonic presence,” Vyxara corrected. “What I want to teach you isn’t a pattern or a weaving technique in the conventional sense. Your mind already possesses the ability to see this ninth color. Every person with Essence perception possesses this ability. But normally, it lies dormant.”

“And how does one awaken this ability?”

“By looking at where I am.”

Valentina opened her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know I’m here, inside you. You can feel it. You’ve had my voice in your head for two years, after all. But you’ve never tried to perceive me directly, not with your Essence perception. You’ve never looked inward to truly see exactly where I end, and you begin. Or rather, where we merge into one another.”

An uncomfortable tingling spread through Valentina’s neck.

“That is the starting point,” Vyxara continued calmly. “When you learn to see me, you learn to see the demonic. And after that, you will be able to perceive it elsewhere as well. Whether in artifacts, in corrupted Essence, in people touched by demonic influence. That is the Sight.”

Valentina swallowed. “Let’s… let’s begin.”

“Close your eyes and open your perception, just as you always do when you work with Essence. Remember what it was like before it became as natural as breathing. And then direct your gaze inward instead of looking outward. Look at yourself and at the place where you sense me.”

Valentina closed her eyes and did as Vyxara said. She made a conscious effort to tune into her perception of the Essences, and then the familiar patterns of the eight Essences seeped into her conscious attention. The protective patterns in the walls shimmered, and the natural currents of Luvt and Lieht flowing through the old timber frame of the house became visible.

Then she turned her gaze inward.

It was immediately uncomfortable. It felt strange, like trying to focus your eyes on the bridge of your own nose. Something inside her resisted it, an instinctive and reflexive defense.

“There. Do you feel the resistance? That’s your mind refusing to look. Let go.”

Easier said than done. Valentina tried to ease the resistance, but it was like trying to relax a muscle she couldn’t even really locate. She groped in the darkness behind her eyes for something she couldn’t describe and had no context of and found… nothing.

She tried again, from a different angle, focusing on the vague sense of Vyxara’s presence she’d grown accustomed to in the last two years, the gentle pressure at the edge of her consciousness, as familiar as her own heartbeat.

Nothing.

“Don’t be so tense,” Vyxara said patiently. “You’re trying to force your way through a door that can only be opened from the inside. Stop pushing and let it open.”

Valentina took a deep breath in and out. She released the tension in her shoulders, then in her neck, then she tried to let go of the tension that wasn’t even physical, that instinctive refusal to look in a certain direction.

And then, for the fraction of a second-

She gasped and she recoiled.

Her chair tipped backward, and she had to grab hold of the desk to keep from falling over. Her heart was pounding, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Breathe,” Vyxara said calmly.

Valentina tried to steady her breathing and her hands were trembling.

“What did you see?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. How did you describe something for which there were no words?

“Something,” she whispered finally. “Something that was around me, or maybe more like through me.” She swallowed. “And way too many joints.”

She trailed off. The image was still before her eyes, even though it had lasted only a heartbeat.

“And eyes,” she said. “So many eyes.”

Vyxara was silent for a moment.

“Yes,” the demon said then. The voice was softer than usual. “That’s me.”

Valentina stared at her hands, which were still trembling slightly. She had known for two years that a demon lived inside her head. She had talked, argued, laughed, schemed, and shared secrets with Vyxara. But the demon had always remained abstract to her, just a voice, a warm presence. Something she just had come to accept without truly understanding it.

But the glimpse she had just caught was anything but abstract. It was a creature from another realm of existence, woven through her, so tightly bound that one could not separate one from the other without destroying both.

“I understand that it’s not easy to see that,” said Vyxara.

Valentina nodded silently.

“However,” Vyxara continued after a moment, “my presence also protects you. No other demon could ever take possession of you, not as long as I’m here. There’s simply no room left.”

She sat in her quiet study for a long time afterwards, waiting until her heartbeat had calmed down again.

~

The next evening, she tried again.

This time it didn’t take half an hour to overcome the resistance, just a few minutes, and when the inner vision opened up, it lasted three, maybe four heartbeats this time before her mind reflexively shut down.

Enough to see more details, and this time Valentina forced herself not to flinch, to hold the vision for as long as she could.

On the third evening, she managed to activate the Sight consciously and deliberately, though still with considerable concentration and effort, which manifested as a dull exhaustion behind her eyes.

But she could do it now.

“Look at the protective patterns on the door,” Vyxara instructed her.

Valentina activated the Sight and fixed her gaze on the study door. The normal Essence patterns glowed as always, but now, with the Sight, she saw something else. There was a distinct wrongness at the points where Vyxara had guided her through the unusual, alien configurations.

“The patterns you had me create,” said Valentina. “They’re demonic!”

“Of course they are. I am a demon, after all. Don’t worry, this isn’t perceptible to normal Weavers. But to you, now, with the Sight, it’s visible.”

“What are the limits?” Valentina asked, letting the Sight fade and massaging the dull pressure behind her eyes.

“The Sight only shows you what’s actually there. If there’s nothing demonic nearby, the world looks exactly the same as always. And of course, distance plays a role.”

“Just like with Essence Listening.”

“Exactly. And just like with Essence Listening, you should take it easy. As you’ve already noticed, overexertion can be very painful.”

Valentina nodded slowly. Then she stood up, knelt down next to the workbench, and lifted the loose floorboard under which the iron box was hidden.

Then she activated the Sight.

The cassette itself was just a cassette, cold iron, opaque to normal Essence perception, like a black spot. But even through the iron, she perceived the Eye of Deceit, and it was hard to put into words exactly what was wrong with it. It was a fundamental falseness, as if reality didn’t quite fit together at that point. A kind of dissonance she felt in her very marrow, like when a musician plays the wrong note or someone sings horribly out of tune.

Valentina put the plank back in place and stood up.

It was disturbing, yes, but reassuring in equal measure. She could keep an eye on it now. She would notice if anything changed.

“Well done,” said Vyxara. “You are now one of the few people in this world who can see what lurks in the shadows.”

A year ago, Gladder had lived right next to her, had spoken to her, manipulated her, and she hadn’t suspected a thing.

That wouldn’t happen to her again.