Sorceress of Faith Read online

  His lips quirked. “If you were violently against this, you’d be throwing things at my head. Preferably my glassware.” His face hardened. “But it must be done. The nest will open again soon, I know it!” He shrugged and moved around the room restlessly in an atypical manner.

  Venetria narrowed her eyes. He was sensing something she wasn’t—she could tell through the fluctuations in their Song. His Power picked up minute variations in the Amee’s Song. Venetria shivered.

  “It will be bad, very bad if the maw spews out horrors at this time.”

  She hesitated. “Perhaps we should consult the Singer.”

  He barked laughter. “You think I didn’t consider that? I visited her the night before last and was granted an audience. Not a Song, for she knew our affairs as usual, but a meeting. Apparently she’s received many Songs recently. No wonder.” He strode to the model of the nest he’d made. She didn’t follow. The thing disturbed her with its slow, inimical pulsing.

  Venetria asked, “What did the Singer say?”

  Another short laugh that was no laugh at all. “One sentence. ‘Do what you must do.’”

  She just stared at him. “That’s all?”

  Pacing, he nodded sharply. “I had the feeling that the Singer had received many conflicting Songs of future events.” He stopped and pivoted to face her, his Song all determination.

  “We must continue with our plan.”

  The cry escaped her. “Send an untrained woman into the maw!”

  “Partially trained and very, very Powerful. If anyone has the chance to destroy the nest and live, it is Exotique Marian. We’ll watch. There is a good chance that once she opens the nest it will be vulnerable to us!” He frowned. “As for being untrained—who knows but that raw Power might be more effective against the nest than trained? The more she is instructed, becomes a Circlet, the more she is learning Amee’s ways and dimming her Exotique Terre essence.”

  “That’s merely rationalization.”

  He swung on her in fury. “You think so? I don’t. If you cannot help me in this…” He didn’t end the sentence.

  She knew what he meant and her heart seemed to shatter into a thousand fragments, only held together by sheer will. Or perhaps her terror of losing him. She couldn’t breathe. Her studies had lost much of their allure and now he was the most important thing in her life. She didn’t think he felt the same, and didn’t dare tell him. She said, “I will Sing with you.”

  He straightened, his expression calmer—had he, too, feared their Song would break?

  Marian awoke to the doorharp, followed by a knock: “Shave and a haircut. Two bits.” She smiled sleepily. Despite the fact that Alexa would stay in Lladrana, some of her thought processes would be pure Earthling for as long as she lived.

  But Marian didn’t want to think of Alexa’s life span. Like Andrew’s, it could be far too short.

  Untangling herself from Jaquar, who grunted and reached out an arm to keep her close, Marian rose from the bed, grabbed the purple robe and opened the door.

  Alexa grinned up at her, noted the purple robe and rolled her eyes. “I see the Marshalls were ready for you. There’s probably a robe like that in every building’s baths.”

  “Huh,” Marian said brilliantly.

  “Do you want to join the Marshalls’ Council Meeting this morning?”

  Marian just stared at her in horror.

  Alexa laughed. “Guess not. Well, there’s plenty to explore around the Castle.” She waved. “Feel free.”

  “I thought I might visit the baths again.”

  Chuckling, Alexa said, “A woman after my own heart. The most private is the Ritual Bathing Pool in the Temple, but it’s also the coolest.”

  Marian would like to get a good look at the Temple and discover if there was any possibility that she could Send herself back to Boulder on her own.

  Alexa whistled sharply. Marian jumped, then goggled as Jaquar appeared beside her, fully clothed in his maroon Sorcerer’s robe and wearing his Circlet of figured gold. Dressed for success. Wow. She’d have to learn that trick.

  Looking approving, Alexa smiled. “Come along, Jaquar. I’ll excuse Marian from the meeting, but not you. I’m sure the Marshalls have lots of questions about what’s been going on in the Tower Community.”

  Jaquar darted a glance at Alexa. Then he brushed back Marian’s hair and kissed her lips softly. “Good morning.”

  She couldn’t help smiling up at him with all the far-too-gooey feelings she felt for him. “Good morning, Jaquar.”

  “Well, it looks like another example of a Lladranan man being a fabulous lover,” Alexa said with a chuckle.

  Jaquar just raised an eyebrow. He turned to Marian, caught her around the waist with a hard arm and ravished her mouth. He left her mind reeling, heat welling inside her. She stepped away from him, gave him a little push to send him on his way to a dreary meeting.

  “Go away, you two.”

  “See you later,” Alexa said. “You might want to visit the brithenwood garden. I’d like to know what you think of it.”

  Marian found her gown and underwear in the bathroom. They hung suspended in air in the shower stall, and she just stared for a moment, mouth open. Nibbling her lip, she deduced that Jaquar had “washed” them with some sort of spell, particularly since his shirt, trousers and loincloth also floated midair. That thought, of course, made her wonder if he was wearing anything under his elegant robe. She banished the distracting idea and dressed.

  The Keep was cool, as was the cloister walk outside it, but the day was sunny and bright. Only a few soldiers and a couple of Chevaliers were around as she strode up the walk and stopped under the Temple portico. The door to the Temple was huge and wooden, but all she did was lift the iron ring of the latch and it swung inward, opening, the scent of incense wafting out.

  She let the ring slip from her grasp and took a step into the dim building, closing the door behind her. For a moment she just stood as her eyes adjusted to the light. The room was fully as big as she remembered, sectioned off here and there by intricately carved screens that didn’t reach the high ceiling.

  Following the curve of the wall, she explored. Most of the wall on each side of the door held a built-in stone bench with velvet cushions, and piles of lush pillows here and there. She ducked around all the screens and found a dining room, a toilet closet with sink and octagonal, tiled tub, even a place to sleep that held several mattresses covered in silk. There were fireplaces, and light came from the high windows.

  The ceiling showed huge beams studded with Power-storage crystals and wheel-chandeliers. Very interesting.

  Finally she moved to the area of the room that held the altar and a large pool. When Summoned, she’d thought the pentacle that the Marshalls had used was incised in the stone. Since Bossgond and Jaquar both had permanent pentagrams, she’d continued to think so, but her memory had played her false. Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, she scanned the room, tested her Power against it and received incredible echoes of great spells, bell-tones from the crystals above and the chakra lamp-chimes.

  There was no permanent star and circle. Which meant that the Marshalls created the symbols when necessary, probably drawing and angling them in the direction that would vibrate the best with their goals.

  Scrutinizing the stones, she found a bit of a vermilion outline of the pentacle that she’d fallen into. She also discovered an almost flaming blue-green line that might have been the color of the pentacle used to Summon Alexa, if her memory of the images Bossgond showed her were true.

  Hands clasped behind her to prevent her curious fingers from betraying her by touching the altar, she noted the tools, gleaming with a polish from use and care. The lamp-chimes drew her. Different-colored candleholders looked cut from gemstones. A small mallet lay near them, and Marian could recall the Power of the sounds wrung from them. Her fingers itched to take the mallet and run it across the seven chimes. Would they sound different unlit? What of the size of
the candle, or the candle’s wick—would that affect the sound? Marian didn’t know.

  She studied the gong. It looked to be about nine feet in diameter and of hammered, polished silver, with not a smidgeon of tarnish. Again she wanted to unclasp her hands and test—flick a finger and thumbnail against the gong, see what happened.

  Better not. Stepping back, she didn’t release her entwined fingers until she was far beyond temptation. She looked at the pool. She knew it had once contained the famed healing-liquid, jerir, but now it definitely held herbal water. She glanced at the door to the Temple. No way was she going to bathe in full view of anyone who walked in.

  So she returned to the little octagonal pool to wash and shampoo. The moment she stepped from the bath, the bottom opened and the water disappeared. Wow. New water, with flecks of plant matter she hadn’t noticed, flooded into the pool from eight sides and it was full again in minutes.

  Marian rolled her shoulders, shook out her arms and legs, testing her limbs. No doubt about it, she felt good from the bath. Efficacious herbs and minerals, as Alexa had said.

  As she walked back to the door, she paused by the large pool and considered it. She hadn’t done any lessons today and maybe working with water inside, here, might be easier.

  Go ahead, Sinafin said. She was a frog again, sitting by the pool. The Temple is for all human endeavors. Bathing, eating. The frog grinned. Practicing Water lessons.

  “Will the Temple and the pool help me? I don’t want to succeed in lessons here if I can’t duplicate them elsewhere.”

  The frog let out a reverberating crooaaakkk that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Now any advantage is neutralized. I will watch but will neither guide nor add my Power.

  “Thanks.” She guessed. She stepped into a wide shaft of sunlight, settled into her stance, called her Power. It was easier now, as if she could sweep all the latent sparks of static electricity from the atmosphere, as if she could process sunlight flowing through the windows into sheer fiery energy. With complete concentration, she followed Jaquar’s instructions step by step, not daring to modify any of his Songs of Water Power.

  She stared at the pool, tried to evaporate some water. As with her first lesson, she used too much. Sighing, she let the cupful fall back into the pool and began with a droplet.

  It worked. She held it, dispersed it into the air, could find it and reform it if she wanted! Yay!

  The sun glinted in her eyes, so she closed them. She felt the rays enveloping her, the warmth of the light, the very yellowness. There were other colors in the spectrum, other stars adding their signatures to the light, and she gathered them all, used them on the pool.

  She opened her eyes. She’d done it!

  Congratulations! croaked Sinafin, glowing green.

  With a whoop she danced over to the feycoocu and patted her cool frog head. “I did it!”

  You will not forget this lesson, either.

  Marian didn’t want to think of her previous one with Sinafin. She much preferred Jaquar as a professor.

  “One more time,” she said, rolled her shoulders and stepped into the shade, keeping her eyes open. This time she tweaked the Songs Jaquar had given her. She held her breath as she collected the slippery water, kept it suspended in the air with her mind, evaporated it—dispersed it into the air—then lifted it to the ceiling, forming a rain cloud. With exquisite precision, she let the misty rain pour down, missing both Sinafin and herself.

  The feycoocu hopped over to the rain and wallowed. The little shower ended quickly and Marian punched her arms in the air and shrieked, “Yes!” Then she whirled around, stopped. If she had let the rain fall on her, she could have dried herself easily with a warm breeze, intensified sunlight on her clothes and not her skin. Oh yeah!

  Now dry the stones, Sinafin said.

  Grinning, Marian did.

  I will see you later. With complete dignity the frog leaped to the door and through it.

  Exclamations came from outside the Temple. Marian chuckled. She skirted the altar and gong. Despite her recent success with water, she didn’t trust herself to keep her hands from poking into Powerful instruments that were best left undisturbed by a foolish student—strains of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” ran through her mind. She surely didn’t want to explain any dancing brooms or gong rolling off its stand or gemstone lamp-chimes cracking, or a strange Song emanating from the Temple.

  Her imagination ran riot at all the havoc she could cause. She supposed it was an honor—the amount of trust everyone placed in her that she wasn’t being watched.

  She left the Temple humming, and walked through the courtyard and gate and down to the Lower Ward. There she lingered a moment, observing people train in a circular area with swords and shields and staffs. They were good, and as exciting as any historical movie. Better choreographed, too.

  A scent came to her nose that she recognized as volaran and she found her way to the Landing Field. There she observed a couple of Chevaliers depart, one Sword and Shield Pair of male lovers land.

  She gave them privacy and turned away to the maze that linked the Landing Field and the Keep and Alexa’s brithenwood garden.

  Wandering through the maze, Marian knew that she liked this place. Oh, the Castle could never be home to her as it might be to Alexa—though Alexa had her own estate, too. But Lladrana, the world of Amee, resonated inside her. Just walking on the soil was an experience; she seemed to draw a bit of energy into herself at each step. Even water now answered to her Power, left her a bit of fluid strength. Dancing with the wind energized her, too, not to mention riding lightning!

  She couldn’t imagine herself doing any of those things at home. Not in Boulder. Maybe, if she was very, very careful, she could find some deserted mountain meadow in which to practice. If she even had enough Power on Earth to summon a wind. Her stomach tightened. Somehow she didn’t think everything she learned here would work there. How much more effort would she have to use to do magic on Earth?

  One more thing she didn’t know.

  But she did know that she was greedy. She wanted to be the Powerful woman she was becoming, the woman who could play in storms, dance with the wind, ride lightning. The woman who could cook and clean and create with magic. Yet Earth held Andrew, and her mother. Perhaps, with the perspective she’d learned here, the new experiences, somehow she might be able to bond with her mother, love and be loved as family should. She could hope.

  Marian laughed when she reached the door to the brithenwood garden. It was small. She’d have to duck, but Alexa could open it and walk straight through. No wonder Alexa liked it. Marian opened the door and hunched her back as she entered the garden. It was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen.

  The tree that gave the garden its name, the brithenwood, stood tall and willowy with white bark and deep green, narrow spearlike leaves. The scent was floral, but unique as if the perfume comprised several “notes” instead of just one—perhaps the leaves and the bark exuded fragrance as well as the blossoms. Looking up, Marian could see that the top of the tree still held a few white blossoms.

  Around the brithenwood was a bench, and two tracks of stepping stones wove through the tangle of garden that was lush with textures and colorful flowers.

  Something—the tree, the walled garden itself—dispersed serenity like a scent. The Temple had been serene, too, with an underlying muscle of Power—a place that had seen sanctified Rituals for ages. This garden brought the peace of nature. The tall gray stone walls emphasized the blue of the sky, the low wooden door seemed to hold the world at bay.

  As she crossed to the bench, Marian spied a twig about five inches long and half the width of her finger that had fallen from the brithenwood. It was a pretty thing, so she picked it up and slid it into her pocket. Then she sat beneath the tree.

  Since the morning was so peaceful, Marian decided to meditate. She drew her legs up and crossed them, rested her hands on her knees and emptied her mind. When a tho
ught or observation occurred, she let it drift by, fade.

  The Songs around her helped. Not only the individual Song of the tree, but the sprightly notes of the flowers, the buzzing of bees, the rustling of grasses and leaves in a small breeze, all combined into a lulling melody.

  Until a horrible screech jolted her. Her eyelids flew open and she saw a peacock strutting around the garden, tail fully unfolded. Marian choked.

  “Sinafin,” she said. “Peacocks are male. Peahens are not nearly so colorful.”

  A beady eye turned in Marian’s direction. Sinafin sniffed and continued her progress around the garden.

  Marian closed her eyes again, but this time couldn’t settle. Which was just as well, since a minute later the door banged open and Alexa tromped in.

  Meeting Marian’s eyes, Alexa winced and flushed. “Meditating, huh? Sorry.” She slammed the door shut.

  “I take it the meeting did not go well?” Marian said.

  “A couple of the Marshalls put Jaquar’s back up and he danced around what the Tower Community was doing about the Dark. I brought up establishing a Tower presence here and you’d’ve thought I proposed razing the Castle!”

  Marian frowned. “Well, I was Summoned for some task, I know that. It’s probably rallying the Tower Community, making them a community instead of individuals. Then having them integrate with the Marshalls. But that doesn’t mean the effort will be welcomed by the Marshalls.”

  “I’ll work on them,” Alexa said grimly, fingering her baton in its sheath as she sat next to Marian. Then she saw Sinafin parading around, opening and closing her feathers. “A peacock again.” Alexa snorted.

  “I told her that peacocks have the pretty plumage and peahens are subdued, but she ignored me,” Marian said.

  Alexa said, “By the way, word has spread that you’re here, and a Scholar of the Fourth Degree—”

  “Fourth!”

  Alexa raised her brows, and her smile widened. “That’s what Jaquar told us.”

  “Wow. Just one more degree—”

  “And Finals, probably worse than your doctoral exams. Mine sure were worse than the Bar exam.”