Sorceress of Faith Page 13

  “I would like to walk and talk,” Chalmon said, with a half bow.

  Bossgond, Marian sent mentally, I am taking a break. Venetria and Chalmon are here and we will stroll along the meadow path. She wasn’t going to lead them to the place that resonated to her. Their inherent formality kept her at a distance—of course, anyone seemed more formal than Alexa and Bastien.

  Bossgond replied telepathically. Good, get them out of my Tower. I don’t want to talk with them. And, he added with a cackle, this will allow your coastline to dry out.

  Please watch Tuck, Marian said stiffly.

  An absent grunt came from Bossgond.

  Chalmon nodded to her practice sphere. “Your Power is for weather?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jaquar,” Venetria muttered under her breath.

  Marian looked at her quizzically and the other woman flashed an insincere smile. “Jaquar Dumont also has that Power. No doubt sometime in the future you must study with him.”

  Her expression went blank, and Marian sensed she hid something. She sighed and led the way out of the Tower.

  The day was beautiful, spring edging into summer. The scents particularly pleased Marian—crisp sea breeze, flowers, grass. She’d miss the freshness of unpolluted air when she returned to Earth.

  Breathing deeply, she smiled.

  But the other two wore all-too-serious expressions.

  “You know why you were Summoned to Lladrana?” asked Chalmon.

  “Not specifically,” Marian said. “Swordmarshall Alexa dropped by yesterday and told me I would be working with you of the Tower Community, but no one of this Community has stated why you requested I be Summoned.” Of course, it had been only three nights and two-and-a-half days, and Marian had her own priorities.

  Chalmon cleared his throat. “Much of the knowledge regarding the Dark that invades Lladrana has been lost over the centuries.” He waved a hand. “Since the magical fence posts and borders protected the mainland, we of the Tower Community focused on our own studies.”

  Marian supposed that was the rationalization all the Circlets were using to explain their inaction.

  Venetria took up the story. “Then the fence posts fell. The monsters invaded the mainland and Alyeka was Summoned. She convinced Jaquar and some of us to fight. More terrible horrors invaded—dreeths—” Venetria put a hand to her throat “—then the sangvile.” Her lips quivered. “The sangvile ravaged a town where many Sorceresses and Sorcerers lived—Coquille-on-the-Coast. I lost an aunt.”

  A cold chill raised the hair on Marian’s neck as she recalled Alexa’s image and story. Venetria’s aunt might have been about the same age as Marian’s mother.

  Stepping closer to Venetria, Chalmon wrapped an arm around her waist and looked directly at Marian—and she saw cool determination, perhaps even the edge of fanaticism. “More sangviles may return. We must stop these evil beings.”

  So now that the Tower Community was actually threatened—Marian hadn’t forgotten that the sangvile targeted Power users—Circlets would actually bestir themselves to contemplate the problem. Sounded a lot like the scholars of her own world. But Marian didn’t think Alexa had had much of a choice in ignoring the problem, and now it appeared Marian would be integral to the Tower’s effort.

  “Alexa was Summoned to fight? Why did you Summon me? What do you want of me?” she asked. When both pairs of eyes shifted away from her, a cold feeling spread along her spine to her gut.

  “We want you to learn. Then you will be able to help,” Venetria said gently, still not looking at Marian but at the path through the serene forest.

  “And what is my compensation?”

  “Learning for learning’s sake. Making a world safe—” Chalmon’s voice rose.

  “It’s not my world.”

  Venetria stopped, so Marian and Chalmon did, too. Venetria said, “You can raise your own Tower and teach students, if you want. Also, as a Summoned Exotique, you receive an estate and a certain amount of zhiv.” She waved her hand. “We have islands to spare, and will collect jewels to ensure you live well.”

  “This is not my place. I will not stay. I have a sick brother I must return to. If you can find me a cure for his disease, I will do what you want.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt infinitely reckless. But it would take a miracle to cure Andrew.

  Chalmon frowned, absently took Venetria’s hand and kissed the back of it, placed her fingers on his arm and began walking again. “A Circlet Medica is rare. One has not raised a Tower for over two centuries.”

  “Pity,” Marian murmured. “I will, of course, learn all that I can, but when the Snap comes, I will return home. And you still haven’t given me any details of what is expected of me. Nor has Bossgond. Hard to fulfill a goal if I don’t know what it is.”

  Again Chalmon cleared his throat. “We are still formulating a plan to fight the Dark.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” asked Marian.

  “Chalmon, myself, Jaquar, some others.” Venetria made a moue. “Planning will take some time—now all you must do is learn.” She looked at the pretty meadow ahead of them and sighed. “Truly Alf Island is graced. Spring has barely touched my own island of Zi.”

  “What are your specialties?” asked Marian. Perhaps she could figure out what they might want of her from what they studied.

  “I am studying cold,” Venetria said. “Ice. I was able to freeze the thin membranes of a dreeth’s wings. In battle—” She choked.

  Marian had a flash of the horror from the waves of fearful memory coming from Venetria.

  “I study the pulses of the world core and the intervals between them,” Chalmon said.

  They walked for several seconds in silence while Marian thought, shuffling his words around until they might make sense. There was a faintly patronizing smile on Chalmon’s face when she said coolly, “So how have the pulses and intervals been? Weakening? Slowing?”

  He stopped, eyes widening. “How did you know?”

  Marian shook her head. Another scholar blinded by the intricacy of details and failing to see the whole picture—the forest for the trees.

  Staring at her, he muttered, “You are bright. All the more reason…for you to progress quickly.”

  Venetria stepped up to Marian, linked arms—and neither of them were shocked. Pondering it, Marian thought Venetria had dampened her personal magnetic field.

  “A very valuable insight,” Venetria said, lifting her chin arrogantly in Chalmon’s direction. “Another reason to consider our options when planning.”

  Chalmon’s eyes narrowed. “How did you guess that Amee’s Song has diminished?”

  Marian raised her brows. “Not a guess, a deduction. I’ve heard two World Songs.” And despite all the harm humans had done to Earth, it was strong and intense and Powerful compared to Amee’s.

  “Humph,” Chalmon said. Then he turned on his heel and headed back toward Bossgond’s Tower. “I’ve discovered all I need to know about you.”

  Marian didn’t follow him and neither did Venetria. “How nice for you,” Marian said.

  He shifted. “Do you have anything you wish to ask us?”

  “A fair trade, do you mean?” Marian said.

  Lips pressed together, he nodded.

  “How kind of you to ask. Yes, Bossgond and I need a cook.”

  Both of them looked at her with surprise.

  It was good to surprise colleagues, too—let them know that she’d soon be a force to be reckoned with.

  They walked back to the Tower in a not-quite-comfortable silence that Marian refused to break. She’d wanted to meet more Circlets—and still did. There must be more compatible people for her, those who could grow into friends. Naturally, the image of Jaquar popped into her head and she strove to keep from coloring. She could share commonalities with him, but he struck her more as “lover” than friend. If she ignored a vague warning and let herself get involved with him…

  When they reached the Tower
, they saw Bossgond talking to a little glass orb as he watched Tuck roll around the flagstones in his hamster ball.

  As soon as Tuck saw her through one of the slits he attempted to roll to her—and the ball lifted slightly from the ground to glide.

  He squeaked angrily. “Out, out, out. Nasty ball.”

  Marian wrinkled her nose. It was cloudier than before, which meant Tuck had peed in it.

  As Bossgond disappeared into his Tower, she ran to meet Tuck.

  “The grumpy old man would not let me out! I am not a dirty animal. I tried to go through a slit, but—” His words were more like high-pitched squeals in her mind than real verbalization. He stopped and stood, nose twitching, pounding the ball with tiny clenched paws.

  “I’ll get you out. Just a minute,” Marian soothed. She bent down and unscrewed the cap. Ick, eau de hamster.

  She tilted the ball and Tuck bulleted out to roll in the sweet grass, then moved onto a clump of wildflowers.

  “Throw it away, away, away!” demanded Tuck. “Out of that mean old man’s reach.”

  Chalmon and Venetria stared at him. Marian didn’t like the look in Chalmon’s eyes, even more detached and examining than Bossgond’s.

  With two fingers Marian sailed the lid away like a Frisbee. Then she pulled back her foot, called on her Power and kicked the plastic ball. It made a satisfactory crack and flew out of sight. “It’s gone.”

  Tuck ran back to her, smelling much better. He scrambled up her dress and into her pocket, hiding in embarrassment.

  Marian aimed a cool glance at the pair of Circlets and smiled superficially. “Nice meeting you.”

  Chalmon half bowed, Venetria half curtseyed, amusing Marian. Apparently her status wasn’t high enough to rate full honors.

  As soon as Marian entered Bossgond’s Tower, Chalmon started off in the direction of the strange orb that Exotique Marian’s creature had been in.

  “What are you doing?” Venetria asked, hurrying to keep up with him.

  “An experiment, a trial run,” he said. “We’ve hypothesized from what the Master told Jaquar that even the essence of an entity from Exotique Terre could harm the Dark’s nest.”

  “Ah!” Venetria said, excited. “In that odd sphere is the essence of an entity of Exotique Terre.”

  “I’m sure we can find a way to send it into the maw as a weapon—observe whether it can truly penetrate the shield and, if so, what result it might have on the nest.”

  Venetria frowned. “We don’t know where the nest is geographically, on the physical plane. We only know it isn’t near. So we must transport the sphere on an etheric plane and fire it from there. That will take great, great Power.”

  Chalmon stopped and looked down. The ball lay at his feet. It wasn’t as odoriferous as it had been. He hooked a finger in the opening and lifted it. Cracked but whole. “The orb is made of a strange substance that is very light.”

  Feeling as if she was already several paces down a slippery path leading to immorality, Venetria whispered, “How can we do this?”

  “It is time to replace observers loyal to Jaquar with those who respect me more. With the aid of many, we should be able to accomplish sending this sphere into the Dark’s nest.”

  She stared into his brilliant, glittering eyes. “I meant how can we consider sending a person into the Dark maw?”

  His mouth tightened. “We need the knowledge. She can harm it, stop it from spewing out more horrors, more sangviles.”

  Shaking her head, Venetria said, “You are becoming someone I’m not sure I know.”

  His voice was tough. “I am refining down to the man I must be in dangerous circumstances. We cannot do nothing. We must act.”

  “At the expense of a woman’s life?”

  Chalmon started back to the landing area where they’d left their volarans. He sent her a glance, one side of his mouth lifted in an attempt at a smile. “She is very strong. She could destroy the nest and survive.”

  Venetria snorted. “You say that to pacify me. I’d rather wait, let the Exotique develop into her Power.”

  “Who knows how long that will take? And she does not wish to stay here. We need to know what happens in that nest. The more knowledge we have, the easier it will be to defeat the mind behind all this—not only the horrors, but the Master and his master.” He stopped. “I am proceeding with this plan, Venetria, and nothing you can say will stop me.”

  “But why?”

  His eyes fastened on her. “For you.”

  For the rest of that day and the next, Marian waited for the third Sorcerer she’d previously met to show up. She braced herself to see Jaquar. Surely now that she’d gained her balance in this new world—and had Tuck—she would find that her initial response to him was exaggerated by circumstances. He’d be attractive, of course, but no more so than any other man. In the back of her mind, she fretted about that vision she’d seen when they’d touched. She didn’t recall the images that had flashed before her eyes—just the feeling of overwhelming danger.

  Exactly the way she wanted to feel for a hunk. But better that than making a mistake and injuring her pride or her heart later. This time, of course, she’d be cool, knowledgeable, graceful.

  But he didn’t come.

  Since Bossgond loaded her with work, she let her expectation of meeting Jaquar fade. She received the idea from Bossgond that she moved rapidly from one level of spells to the next…and the next. For herself, the lessons seemed to open someplace in her that inherently knew what to do, what to say, how to form her spell tunes, whistles and chants for the best results. Some of this was her training, but most of it sprang from her irregular studies of New Age beliefs.

  By the middle of her second full week, Marian worked in all three of her “terrariums.” Oddly enough, she was most proficient with Lightning and electrical storms. There had been no scary “incidents.”

  Bossgond had allowed her a brief look at Andrew one morning, but when she’d come up the next day for breakfast, he’d covered the binoculars. He told her there would be no more viewing by them both. He would watch and report, but the Power to coordinate so they both could look through the binoculars was draining energy they needed. Marian glared at him but said nothing.

  One morning during her third week on Lladrana, the bells from the harness of a volaran rang near her windows, and Marian rushed to one, hoping Bastien had brought Alexa to visit.

  Jaquar rode a black volaran with small white spots. The Circlet was sexy. Every time she saw the man, he was more attractive. Marian snorted. She couldn’t afford to fall for him.

  “Marian!” Bossgond’s irritated voice came from the trumpet tube next to her desk.

  “Yes?”

  “That boy is here. He has good intent toward me so he just flew through my shield—”

  A knock echoed like thunder through the Tower.

  “Ever since I took you as an Apprentice, there’s been no peace. You’d think if people saw that a door didn’t have a harp, they’d know they weren’t welcome,” Bossgond grumbled. He’d taken the door harp off several days ago.

  “I’m not answering it,” Marian said, and got an immediate image of the old man’s ears perking up in interest.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I had a vision when we first met.”

  “Ah! That has happened in the past with those who were Summoned for the Tower. Visions upon their arrival. What was it?”

  Marian sighed. “I can’t recall. Too many experiences since then have piled on top of that memory to remember it clearly. I just know he’s Trouble.”

  “Hmm,” said Bossgond, sounding more cheerful. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to talk with the boy.”

  12

  Marian wanted to argue with Bossgond about admitting Jaquar to the Tower, but Bossgond appeared at the door to the stairs from her suite, opening it.

  “Coming?” he asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

  “Yes.” Marian shifted her shoulders. A ti
ngle had run up her spine to lodge itself at the back of her neck. For the first time, she realized that there was no mirror in her outer room. There was a small one that showed her face in the bedroom of her loft, but nothing else. Bossgond had plenty in his chambers, but they were for magical work.

  She looked at him. He was neat and tidy in a midnight-blue tunic that looked brand-new, but only his clothes seemed ageless. He was ugly. Cute ugly, like a bulldog puppy, but it was no wonder he didn’t hang mirrors around.

  With lagging steps, she followed him down to the bottom-floor parlor.

  Jaquar stood there. The sight of him—tall and well built and handsome, with those wide streaks of silver over each temple and the blue, blue eyes—sent hormones zinging through her veins.

  She caught him staring at her, and a whispered tune fluttered between them.

  Marian had learned enough to know that this could mean real trouble. Best she stay away from the man. So she moved from the stairs and put a wingchair between them.

  His eyebrows rose, but his attention turned to Bossgond, who watched them both with a sly smile. The old mage held out both hands, wrists straight and palms up.

  Jaquar glanced at Bossgond’s gesture and his lips tightened. Marian realized she’d noticed his full mouth, and tried to gather a little shield around her that might block out the string of notes between them. It didn’t work.

  Carefully Jaquar placed his palms on Bossgond’s, overlapping the older Sorcerer’s hands. Jaquar jerked, and Marian saw the flash of energy between them, the blending of auras.

  “I see I made a mistake years ago,” Bossgond said. “Your parents requested you spend some months under my tutelage, and I was too immersed in my own studies and declined. But you would have been an excellent student and would have helped me, and would have gained your Circlet status earlier.” Bossgond sighed gustily and dropped his hands. “That’s in the past.”

  “You have an Apprentice of your own.” Jaquar inclined his head to Marian. “Marian.”

  She nodded coolly. “Jaquar Dumont.”

  “She won’t be an Apprentice for long,” Bossgond boasted. “I’ll have her a Scholar by the morrow and a Circlet by the end of the month.”