The Master

by Louise Cooper

  One was middle-aged, the other younger, and both were dressed in travel-stained white robes, with riding boots beneath and short but heavy cloaks about their shoulders. The square was dark and the women carried lanterns; it was their light which had seared her eyes.

  Sisters of Aeoris … Cyllan shut her eyes again and tried to struggle upright. She had been lying against a rough wall and her clothes were soaked through with damp, exacerbating the stiffness in her body. There was a vile taste in her mouth and she wiped an unsteady hand across her lips, resisting the temptation to spit.

  ‘Here, now; let us help you.’ A hand took her arm, gently but firmly, and she was raised to her feet. ‘Can you stand unaided? Do you feel well enough to walk?’

  Cyllan forced herself to nod. ‘I’m all right … thank you, I don’t need -‘ She stopped as a retching spasm set her stomach lurching. ‘Oh, gods … ‘

  The two women tactfully and sympathetically guided her into an alley where, painfully, she lost the contents of the wine-skin which she’d drunk before collapsing.

  Unpleasant though the experience was, it helped to clear her head, and she felt considerably better when she turned to face them once more.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said indistinctly. ‘You’re - very kind.’

  ‘Nonsense, child. Succouring those in trouble is part of our calling, and it’s clear that you’re in need of comfort.’ The older woman, who had spoken, smiled at her. ‘I am Sister Liss Kaya Trevire, and this is Sister Farial Mordyn. We are travelling through Prospect on our way South, so we’re strangers here. I suspect that gives us something in common.’

  ‘Yes … ‘ Despite her deep suspicion of the Sisterhood, Cyllan was warming to Sister Liss. ‘I am - ‘ she checked herself, realising with a sobering shock that she had been on the verge of giving her real name, ‘I am Themila Avray, drover, from West High Land.’

  ‘And what of your band?’ Sister Liss pursued. ‘Are you housed at one of the town inns?’

  Cyllan shook her head. ‘I’m alone. That is - I’m on my way to meet my cousin in ShuNhadek.’

  The Sisters were shocked. ‘Surely you haven’t been travelling this road unaccompanied, now of all times?’

  Farial asked. ‘It’s unthinkable - there are so many dangers!’

  ‘Indeed,’ Liss agreed. ‘Not least of which, it seems, is the danger of falling into temptation.’ She glanced with grim humour at the empty wine-skin which lay discarded in the gutter. ‘Even in a respectable town there are too many rogues for comfort. Have you checked you belt-pouch, child?’

  Cyllan’s eyes widened, and involuntarily she put her hand to her breast. To her relief, the Chaos stone still lay hard and cold beneath her jerkin, and she hastily felt in her pouch, hoping that the women hadn’t taken heed of her first gesture. The pouch’s contents were complete … she smiled sheepishly.

  ‘All’s well.’

  ‘No thanks to your lack of vigilance,’ Liss admonished her. ‘You’ve been fortunate, Themila. You are very young, and I know how easy it is to give way to temptation when you have only the rashness of youth and inexperience to guide you. But to indulge in this kind of behaviour … ‘ She indicated the empty skin. ‘It can only lead you on a downhill road.’

  The homily was well intentioned but Cyllan felt bitterness well within her. Perhaps these good Sisters had only arrived in the town after the grisly spectacle of the trial and its outcome; but either way, they must know what had taken place here. How could they condemn anyone for reacting as she had done?

  Without realising it she had glanced towards the Law Stone in the centre of the now empty square. The girl’s broken body had been removed, but the torches in their high brackets which burned around the square showed dark smears on the stone’s surface that didn’t look like shadow. Sister Farial saw Cyllan’s expression, and touched her colleague’s arm lightly.

  ‘I think I understand,’ she said, and nodded towards the stone. ‘In the light of today’s events … ‘

  Sister Liss’s look softened. ‘Ah, yes. Of course.’ She touched her tongue to her lips. Thankfully, our party was spared from witnessing the execution, as we only arrived in the town when it was all over. It must have been a very distressing spectacle.’

  Cyllan shrugged, angry that she’d shown weakness and yet mollified by the Sisters’ obvious sympathy. ‘She was younger than I am,’ she said harshly.

  ‘So I heard. And doubtless you couldn’t help thinking that, but for the grace of Aeoris, you might have stood in her place.’ Sister Liss sighed. ‘These are sorry times. All we can do is pray that they’ll soon be over.’

  Cyllan couldn’t stop herself from protesting at the woman’s fatalism. ‘But she was innocent!’ she said; then, realising that she’d made a dangerous slip, added, ‘That is - there was no evidence against her, nothing that any rational thought could have supported! Yet they - it was as if -‘ She made a helpless, frustrated gesture, angered by her inability to articulate what she felt. They wanted a victim, and they didn’t care whether that victim was guilty or not.’

  Liss smiled sadly. ‘I understand your feelings. But you must remember that more dangers attend us all now than the simple apprehension of the two fugitives.

  Chaos is a deadly enemy, and possessed of great guile.

  Its servants will lose no opportunity to seek out the weak and the dissolute, and corrupt them to its service.’ The smile faded. ‘Harsh as it may seem at times, we are charged to uphold Aeoris’s laws, and we can’t take the risk of allowing evil to take root among us. It’s not a pleasant fact to face, but it’s better that innocents suffer than that the guilty go free.’

  Fortunately, before Cyllan could speak they were interrupted by the arrival of four more women, who formed the remainder of the Sisterhood party. Liss told Cyllan’s story, and the other Sisters immediately pressed her to travel with them.

  ‘You can’t possibly continue on the road alone,’ she was urged. ‘And the more of us who ride together, the safer we’ll all be.’

  Cyllan tried to argue, but the women were adamant, and Liss had the final word.

  ‘My conscience could never be easy if I allowed you to go,’ she insisted. ‘If anything were to befall you, I couldn’t live with myself. Would you wish that fate on me?’

  It seemed to Cyllan that, unless she were prepared to face another hasty flight during the dark hours, she was effectively trapped; she had no defence against their arguments. But then it occurred to her that the situation could have advantages, Who, after all, would dream of casting suspicion on a girl in the company of six Sisters of Aeoris? Provided she kept a constant guard on her tongue, what better protection could she ask?

  She smiled, slowly but with returning confidence. ‘If my presence won’t be a burden to you … ‘

  ‘The very idea!’ Liss was relieved and pleased. ‘We rest for tonight at the Minstrels Tavern, and I’m sure there’ll be room to house you with us. Then in the morning, an hour after Sunrise, we’ll be on our way.’

  The Sisterhood party left for the South as the Sun was beginning its climb into a blood-red sky streaked with only a few purple-edged smears of cloud. Sister Liss pronounced the weather a good omen, and once the town was left behind they made steady if slow progress.

  Cyllan rode towards the rear of the group, just ahead of the Sisters’ four baggage ponies. She was privately thankful to have company; last night her sleep had been racked with nightmares that revolved round the executed girl, and with the dreams still fresh in her mind she had no desire to be alone with her thoughts. Her fellow-travellers were content to enjoy the ride and the landscape, and what little conversation there was was idle and therefore safe. The only unsettling factor was the presence of the dark-haired, thin-faced woman who rode a little way ahead of her.

  She had exchanged no more than a few words with Sister-Seer Jennat Brynd since their first meeting, but on several occasions she had noticed the woman watching her with more than idle interest. Cyllan hadn’t bargained o
n encountering a seer among her new companions, and she wondered how far Jennat’s talents extended - the thought that her own mind might be an open book to a truly skilled psychic was chilling. She had had little contact with the seer, and thus far all was well, but she was anxious not to encourage Jennat’s society, for her own safety’s sake. The journey to ShuNhadek should take about four days if there were no untoward delays, so she wouldn’t need to maintain her deception for much longer.

  The rest of the day passed without incident, and they spent the next night at a cramped but clean roadside inn.

  Pleading tiredness, Cyllan went to bed as soon as they had eaten, leaving the Sisters to talk and share a jar of wine, and trying to forget the speculative glance that Jennat Brynd had cast in her direction before she retired. In the morning they left early, Sister Liss giving thanks to Aeoris for another fine if chilly day, and by mid-afternoon they had reached a wide river spanned by a wooden pack-bridge. One of the baggage ponies had begun to limp, and they reined in while Cyllan offered to examine the animal and see what was amiss with it.

  Liss slid thankfully from her saddle and pressed the knuckles of both hands into the small of her back. ‘I don’t mind admitting that I’m glad of the rest,’ she said, looking at the lowering Sun and allowing its warmth to bathe her face. ‘And thankful, too, that we’re moving further South. The days are longer down here, the Sun’s rays stronger … it’s a blessed relief after the northern lands!’

  Farial, who had also dismounted, was searching through a pack strapped to one of the baggage ponies, and drew out a wrapped package and a skin of fruit juice. This would be a pleasant enough place to stop under any circumstances,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we can sit on the grass for a while and relax - that is, if Themila thinks her task will take a little time?’

  It took Cyllan a few moments to remember that she was the one being addressed, and she looked up quickly, allowing the baggage pony to rest its troublesome leg on the ground. ‘I don’t think it’s anything more than a stone in his hoof,’ she told the Sister, then smiled. ‘But it could take an hour to put right, if you’d like.’

  Farial laughed. ‘Very well - then let’s make ourselves comfortable.’ She spread her cloak among the lusher grass where the land started to slope towards the river, and sat down. ‘I’ve fresh drinks for us all here, and the cakes I bought from the town bakery this morning.’

  Within a few minutes all six of the women had settled themselves on the grass, and Cyllan, having prised the stone from the pony’s hoof with the point of her knife, joined them. Farial handed her a slab of cake and she squatted at the edge of the group, reaching behind her to fix her bunched hair more securely.

  Her fingers came away from her hair smeared with red-brown stains …

  Cyllan had completely forgotten that the effects of the bellflower dye must be wearing off by now. Drovers’

  inns didn’t furnish their rooms with looking-glasses, and it hadn’t occurred to her to worry about the colour of her hair. By now, the copper-brown could be streaked halfway back to its natural white-blonde; and that could be enough to damn her.

  Quickly she glanced at the Sisters, but they were occupied with their food and drink - all, that is, save for Jennat Brynd, who was watching Cyllan and, as their gazes met, smiled a slow, pleasant smile. With a tremendous effort Cyllan made her lips quirk nervously in response, then she pointedly turned her attention to the cake in her hand.

  For a time there were no sounds but the ripple of the river and the contented munching of the horses as they cropped at the grass near by. Sister Liss’s head had drooped forward and she seemed to be asleep; Farial was fussily tidying the litter of their small feast, and Jennat, propped on one elbow, was engrossed in examining the contents of her belt-pouch. At length she drew out something that caught the Sunlight with a brilliant flare, and those nearest to her looked up in surprise.

  ‘Scrying, Sister?’ Farial inquired amiably.

  Jennat smiled. ‘Yes. It was the river that gave me the notion. So smooth and quiet, and the way the current catches the Sunlight and reflects it is quite hypnotic.’

  Farial turned to Cyllan. ‘You must pay no attention to Sister Jennat, Themila. She chooses the unlikeliest moments to practise her art - though in truth we’re all very proud and envious of her skills.’

  Cyllan nodded uneasily, and Jennat’s dark eyes met hers.

  ‘Oh, but I don’t want to distress our new friend,’ she said solicitously. ‘It’s easy for us to overlook the fact that, to outsiders, our way can sometimes seem disconcerting. One forgets that the magical skills aren’t widely practised beyond the Sisterhood.’

  Despite the softness of her voice, the words were a clear challenge. Cyllan regarded her through narrowed lashes. ‘Please, don’t let me deter you, Sister. I’m not afraid.’

  Jennat turned the small scrying-glass over and over in her hands. ‘Perhaps you’ve seen something of this nature before?’

  ‘I saw a stone-reader once, at a fair,’ Cyllan said. ‘But I believe he must have been a charlatan.’

  ‘Most self-professed diviners are. To develop a true talent takes both dedication and years of study.’

  Cyllan didn’t reply, and with another of her slow smiles Jennat turned her attention back to the scrying-glass. After a prudent pause Cyllan got to her feet and, hoping that her actions seemed casual, walked slowly down the gentle slope to the edge of the river. By the bank the water was crystal clear, and she fancied she saw fish moving sleekly among the dappled shadows. She tried to concentrate on watching them, but it was impossible; Sister Jennat’s subtle insinuations had breached the mental wall behind which she’d hidden her deepest fears, and she felt sick with trepidation. The sensation, coupled with an irrational hope that by physically distancing herself from the seer she could evade her scrutiny, had driven her to get as far away from the Sisters as she could, while she collected her wits.

  Surely, she told herself, Sister Jennat presented no real threat? It was possible - no, likely - that her imagination was seeing shadows where none existed. Only a few more days to ShuNhadek, and then she could forget that she’d ever encountered these women …

  Themila?’ A voice behind her made her start, and she turned to see that Jennat had left the others and walked silently down the bank to join her. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’

  ‘No - no.’ Cyllan shook her head, not meeting the other woman’s gaze. ‘I just thought to - to look at the river.’

  ‘Ah.’ Jennat, too, gazed out across the smoothly flowing water. ‘It is a peaceful sight, isn’t it? Still, it would be all too easy to slip into the temptation of tarrying. I came to tell you that Sister Liss has woken, and says that we must be on our way if we’re to reach habitation before nightfall.’

  So her errand was innocent enough … Cyllan clenched her teeth against an involuntarily sigh of relief, and turned to go. Jennat made to follow - then abruptly paused.

  ‘Oh, Themila -I hope you’ll pardon my curiosity, but … do tell me, why do you dye your hair? Its natural colour is such a pretty shade.’

  Cyllan stared at the sloe-dark eyes in the smiling, guileless face, as her stomach turned ice-cold. Jennat’s question had caught her completely unawares, and she had no answer.

  ‘Jennat! Themila! Come; we’ve wasted enough time!’

  Sister Liss’s impatient cry broke the terrible hiatus, and gratefully Cyllan turned, raising one arm in acknowledgement. Without waiting for Jennat, and without giving her a chance to put her question again, she ran up the bank to where the horses were tethered.

  Pulling the animals away from the juicy grass took time and effort, but finally Cyllan had her own ponies back on the road and checked their harness whilst she waited for the other women to mount up. She was about to swing herself into the saddle when a voice spoke, quite clearly but also quite casually, from a short distance away.

  ‘Cyllan … ‘

  ‘Yes?’ She turned without thinking at the sound of her name - her rea
l name - and only when she found herself face to face with Jennat did she realise the terrible mistake she’d made.

  Jennat smiled. ‘Will you show us the jewel which you keep so carefully next to your skin?’

  Sister Liss paused at her horse’s head. ‘Jewel? What jewel is this, Jennat?’

  Cyllan held her breath, striving to appear a good deal calmer than she felt. Jennat, sure of herself now, continued to stare at her. ‘Sister Liss, I think it’s perhaps more important to establish the small matter of our friend’s identity.’

  Liss realised suddenly what the seer was implying.

  ‘You called her Cyllan … ‘

  ‘And she answered me. I believe that, if my scrying-glass doesn’t deceive me, her full name is Cyllan Anassan.’

  Farial gave a little cry of shock, and Liss’s eyes widened. ‘Jennat, you don’t mean - ‘

  ‘Look at her hair!’ Jennat interrupted, pointing. ‘It’s no more that colour than mine is! She’s fair - so fair that her hair’s all but white! And my glass showed me a gemstone which she keeps hidden, a clear jewel, Search her, Sisters, and I believe you’ll find the very stone that the Circle are seeking!’

  Shock had kept Cyllan rooted where she stood, but abruptly she realised that she was lost. She couldn’t bluff her way around Jennat’s accusations; her only hope was flight.

  She made a frantic leap for her pony, but even as she slithered astride its back Jennat rushed at her, grabbing her arm. Cyllan lashed out, the pony plunged, and, off balance, she felt herself slipping, falling from the saddle.

  She landed with a thump, the pony’s hoofs only just missing her skull as it reared in fright, and the fall knocked all the breath out of her. Before she could struggle up again, three of the Sisters were kneeling beside her and holding her down.

  ‘Keep her still!’ Jennat cried breathlessly, ducking Cyllan’s flailing arm. ‘We’ll soon find out the truth - ‘