Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  “These ideas had their origins in the north,” Clementa told her. “And they talk about ‘the republic’ in the west, too. In taverns and coffee-houses, of course, not at their courts, but the philosophies have been around for centuries.”

  “So Wendlin unearthed them in his ancient holy tracts?”

  “Well, Elder Wendlin apparently does know everything,” Isabelle sent, mentally rolling her eyes.

  Clementa had noticed something. “Walkering is saying much to give us the impression that he knows Wendlin personally.”

  “You don’t think he does?” Tabitha asked.

  “Not as well as he is implying.”

  “Do you, Lady Sorceress?” Walkering said suddenly.

  Tabitha managed to not look startled, even as she frantically sent, “What did he ask?”

  “He said there are those who don’t believe in the One,” Isabelle sent quickly.

  “I believe the One is coming,” Tabitha said calmly. “I pray for it on every Waiting Day.”

  “Do you, Lady Sorceress?” Walkering asked again, as if he did not believe her. “Do you pray for it with all your heart, or do you merely recite prayers given to you in the Theocracy’s tainted holy tracts?”

  Now, that was offensive. Offensive enough to mean that he could not be a spy from the Theocracy. A spy would be very careful not to offend her. “You doubt my words, Elder Walkering?”

  “I am given to skepticism, Lady Sorceress, especially of the powerful.” He cocked his head at her and took half a step forward. “Especially of the true power of the powerful.”

  “You doubt the power of the sorcerers?”

  One of the other heretics, his eyes downcast and his shoulders tense, edged backward, but then twitched and quickly stepped back to where he had been. Was he sensitive to the wards?

  “Lady Sorceress,” Walkering said, “I am quite aware that the Ninth Circle has not yet received the magic of the Eighth.” He gave her his first smile, a small, condescending smile, and at the same time, Partridge gave him a hard look.

  “He’s saying you have no power,” Isabelle sent.

  Tabitha pursed her lips slightly. She and her magi had practiced a few tricks, just in case the heretics asked for proof of who she was. Her neck prickling, she reached with her magic to cause the lamp on her right to flare, while Clementa and Isabelle did the same to the lamp on her left. Walkering’s eyes widened, despite his obvious attempt to control his reaction, and the other heretics either stepped back with muttered curses or even gasped aloud. Tabitha said nothing, waiting for them to collect themselves, and Partridge recovered first. “My lady, we of course mean no disrespect.”

  “I am glad, Elder Partridge.” She looked back at Walkering. “Elder Walkering. The Ninth Circle has proven its power in many ways already. Do you recall what happened to the Eternal Flame at Saint Carlodon’s Basilica in Chrenste last year?”

  This sent another wave of consternation through the heretics, though Walkering only narrowed his eyes. “I recall it, Lady Sorceress.”

  “There are those in Telgardia who, as a result, believe that Sorcerer Graegor is the One.”

  Walkering shook his head. “It is impossible, Lady Sorceress. They are misguided.”

  “These ‘ringless ones’ say that you are the ones who are misguided.”

  “But Telgardia’s Theocracy says that they are, Lady Sorceress, while making no such judgment about us.”

  “There were shovel-men on Maze Island,” she reminded him, “before the Archpriest there did make such a judgment about you.”

  “But your kingdom’s Theocracy has not made that judgment.” When she did not reply, he said, “Some of them believe in Elder Wendlin’s message, though they are too timid to say it. Even some of Thendalia’s nobles believe in Elder Wendlin’s message, though they, too, are too timid to say it.” He took another half-step forward. “If you were brave enough to say it, Lady Sorceress, others might find their courage as well.”

  She remained unmoved and unmoving. “This is what you want from this meeting, then? My voice, speaking your beliefs?”

  “What else is worth asking from you, Lady Sorceress?”

  She pushed down the sense of satisfaction that this gave her. Graegor’s heretics had no drawings of her and did not believe her to be important at all. But to these heretics, she could be a champion.

  And end the war.

  She told herself to not jump that far, to stick to the script. “Elder Walkering, I can’t use my voice to speak your beliefs as long as Elder Wendlin’s followers continue to set fires in Thendalia’s fields.”

  Walkering paused, his mouth twitching as he held back words. Partridge glanced from him to Tabitha and started to speak, but then Walkering said, “I have explained the necessity, Lady Sorceress.”

  “I don’t accept it. And I am not certain that all of Wendlin’s followers accept it either.” She looked at the other heretics. Besides Partridge, two of the others did seem uncomfortable with Walkering’s “necessity”.

  “The world is violent, Lady Sorceress. And the truth is too often buried by powerful men. We have a duty to deliver Wendlin’s message to the entire world, by whatever means, and to remake that world, by whatever means.”

  “Must ‘remaking’ bring such horrors to the innocent? Can you not temper your methods?”

  “We must remake this world by whatever means, Lady Sorceress.”

  “Are we getting anywhere with this lunatic?” Isabelle asked.

  “He is not going to agree to leave Betaul alone, is he?” The icy needles were sharpening against Tabitha’s neck.

  Walkering suddenly took several steps forward, pointing first at Clementa, then at Isabelle. “Which one of you is the sorceress?”

  Tabitha was so startled her mouth dropped open. Her magi did not answer, of course, but they were also too startled to tell her what she should do. “I am the sorceress,” she told him, not quite as serenely as she wanted.

  Now Walkering pointed at her. “You can’t be. You are a puppet. You never answer anything right away. You always wait to be told what you should say. It must be one of these others. Or none of you. Is the true sorceress hiding behind the wall?” Incredibly, he stomped forward, almost all the way up to her cushion, and then he leaned over her to peer into the lamp-lit alcove.

  Tabitha’s magic rushed through her like a freezing wind, slicing the air in front of her, and she felt its jarring impact when it struck Walkering. He stood there, stunned, and then blood oozed from his nose and he stumbled backward. Her power stinging her like a thousand bees, Tabitha rose to her feet as the heretic dropped to the ground, dazed, blinking. His mouth moved, but he could not speak, and finally he slumped onto his side, rolled once down the incline, and was still.

  Two of the other heretics ran forward, one of them shouting in Adelard, and knelt beside Walkering at the bottom of the bowl of the ground. The other three just stared, two of them making the sign of the Godcircle. Tabitha’s magic still pierced her skin like icy needles.

  “Did I kill him?” she asked. She could not tell if she was horrified or thrilled.

  The heretics were pressing a rag to Walkering’s face, to the blood streaming from his nose. The bigger of the two men was still shouting, probably cursing, and his face was twisted in rage.

  “It’s unclear,” Clementa sent with clinical calm. She and Isabelle had risen to their feet as well, and they stood as still as statues. Tabitha was still trying to get her breath back. Calm and still. Calm and still.

  The other three heretics crept forward. The angry heretic waved his arm to keep them back, and one of them asked something in Adelard. The angry heretic snapped something back.

  “He said that he lives,” Clementa sent, in obvious relief, and Tabitha’s breath suddenly threatened to burst out of her. She kept her mouth closed and exhaled through her nose so that no one could tell she was anything other than calm and still.

  “Is he unconscious?” Isabelle asked
.

  “Yes, from what I think they are saying. Adelard is not my best language.”

  “I hope he stays that way,” Isabelle sent. “The others will be more willing to listen if he’s lying there as an object lesson.”

  “Lady Sorceress!” The heretic who spoke was the one with the youthful face and grey hair, and he was kneeling next to the angry heretic, who was still dabbing the rag against Walkering’s nose. “Please forgive him. Please make sure he’s all right. Please.”

  Tabitha flicked her eyes dispassionately over all the heretics, and then asked in a quiet voice, “Are all of you as inflexible as he?”

  “Please.” Brave and humble, this heretic looked up at her from the middle of the ground, his hand on Walkering’s shoulder. “Lady Sorceress, we don’t doubt you. We will never doubt you. Please, please, will you heal him?”

  I can’t. Tabitha had never tried to heal anyone without Maga Rollana’s supervision, and she had never tried to heal injuries to anyone’s head or face. And besides—

  “He is Adelard,” Clementa sent, echoing Tabitha’s thoughts. None of the three of them could heal Adelards. Only Circle-bound magi and sorcerers could heal people of other races.

  “There is no need,” Tabitha finally said solemnly, hoping it was true. “He will live.”

  The youthful-looking heretic slumped his shoulders in relief. Isabelle sent, “That one reminds me of a bear cub.”

  Tabitha did not answer as the heretic took a few deep breaths. Still on his knees, he finally looked up at her again. “Why did you strike him?” he asked simply. “He couldn’t have been any threat to you.”

  “He is clearly a violent man,” she said, ignoring the fact that he had forgotten her title. He did not seem to have done so out of disrespect, just confusion. “He should not object to violence against himself.”

  She sensed appreciation of her words from Clementa and Isabelle. But none of the heretics said anything. She glanced at each of them, then asked, “Are you all committed to furthering Elder Wendlin’s message at the point of a sword? Or, forgive me, the edge of a shovel?”

  The “bear cub” heretic was the only one brave enough to answer. “I am committed to spreading Elder Wendlin’s words throughout the north, and throughout the L’Abbanist world. Lady Sorceress, will you condemn me for that?”

  She regarded his broad, honest face for a moment. “What is your name?”

  He swallowed. “I can’t tell you, Lady Sorceress. I’m sorry.”

  “Then I will call you … Elder Bear.” At the last moment, it seemed too insulting to add the cub.

  The heretic bowed his head. Without consulting her magi, she said, “I wish to speak with you privately, Elder Bear.” She only waited long enough for the shock to show on his lifted face before she turned and walked back to her cushion.

  “Is this a good idea?” Clementa asked cautiously. “We decided that we would not try to separate them.”

  “But we would take advantage of it if they separated.” Which, she had to admit, was not exactly what had happened, but Walkering had certainly put himself out of the meeting. She turned back to face the heretics, but did not sit down. “Is there anything you can do to make sure none of the others can hear us?”

  Elder Bear had risen to his feet, and now he approached her as cautiously as if she was a bear. Clementa and Isabelle were exchanging ideas too fast for Tabitha to track, so she had to trust that they would do what they could to make this conversation private. She did not smile at Elder Bear, but she blinked at him encouragingly, and he came nearly within an arm’s length of her before stopping.

  With the slight slope of the ground, he stood almost exactly her own height. His greying beard could not hide his round cheeks. His eyes were big and brown, and he did not look away from her. “Lady Sorceress,” he said softly, both hands now making the sign of the Godcircle.

  Behind him, no one else had moved, and all but Walkering and the angry heretic were watching them. Tabitha checked with Clementa and Isabelle, but they had not figured out any way to modify the existing wards or cast new ones to block sound. “Your voices will not carry far here in any case,” Clementa sent. “Just keep them low.”

  That was irritating, but there was no help for it. Tabitha’s voice was not a whisper, not a murmur, but something just above both. “What is it,” she asked, “that you hope to gain from this meeting with me?”

  Elder Bear looked at her blankly for a moment. “I …” He swallowed. “We hoped for your support, Lady Sorceress.”

  “I am asking what you want. Not what you all agreed to request. What do you want from me?”

  Again he swallowed, and his gaze dropped to the ground. At his sides, both his hands were curling into themselves and uncurling again.

  “Surely you had something in mind,” Tabitha said, “when you argued for your right to be here.”

  He looked back up at her, clearly wondering how she knew that he had done that very thing. But it was an easy guess. Obviously every one of them had had to convince the other leaders of the shovel-men that he should be chosen for this meeting. Tabitha tilted her head slightly, to show that she was waiting for his answer, and Elder Bear stuttered, “Y-yes, yes, Lady Sorceress. I did. I wanted to be sure …” Another swallow, and he spoke more firmly. “Lady Sorceress, I would like to ask you to speak to Thendalia’s Hierarch and Theocracy, and convince them to allow us to preach.”

  “Speaking to them is easy. Convincing them may be impossible.”

  “If anyone could, Lady Sorceress, it would be you.” He had found his composure again.

  Tabitha paused. The script for this meeting allowed her to agree to speak to the Archpriest of Betaul, if she found these heretics to be reasonable men. “If I were to speak to members of the Theocracy about your right to preach, would you be willing to preach to them? To enter a debate with them about Elder Wendlin’s message, and answer their objections?”

  The idea seemed to horrify him. “I am no great speaker, Lady Sorceress.”

  “You don’t need to be. Elder Wendlin’s message should speak for itself, should it not?”

  “It’s easy for words to be twisted in a debate, Lady Sorceress.”

  “Indeed.” It was certainly true, and it was a very good lead into her next question. The important one. “I believe some twisting of words has occurred over the past year.”

  He frowned. “Lady Sorceress?”

  This was her meeting, not her father’s. But they had all agreed that the heretics would never believe that she had completely separated herself from his interests. They knew she was a Betaul. Everyone knew she was a Betaul. Everyone would expect her to defend her home and family. “You have no doubt heard the lies that your fellow shovel-men are spreading about my father. What do you think he promised you, when you had us surrounded in Tiaulon?”

  Of course, she had no idea if Elder Bear had been in Tiaulon then, or ever. But that was for him to deny if he could. Confusion contorted his face, and his hands curled into themselves at his sides. “Lies? I don’t—Lady Sorceress, I wasn’t there. But I—” He broke off, and he bit his lip hard before starting again. “I know someone who was there, Lady Sorceress. Your father promised us a share.”

  She waited, then asked, “A share of what?”

  “Of—of what he has, Lady Sorceress.”

  Tabitha affected an expression of curiosity. Clementa sent, “His land?”

  “His wealth?” Isabelle suggested.

  “You need to be more specific, Elder Bear,” Tabitha said.

  Elder Bear bowed his head. “Respectfully, Lady Sorceress, your father was not more specific.”

  “It is all lies, Elder Bear,” she told him sternly. “I was there. He promised nothing.”

  The heretic did not answer, and kept his head bowed. She could see sweat at his temples.

  “He doesn’t know,” Isabelle guessed. “Whatever a ‘share’ means, it’s not important to him personally. It’s not why he’s her
e. We should ask one of the others.”

  Clementa agreed. “Yes, you should drop it for now. Tell him your terms and see how he reacts. That will tell us how they all might react.”

  “I, however,” Tabitha said, as if continuing her prior words, “can promise that I will consider approaching certain priests with the idea of allowing your preaching, if you can answer their objections.”

  His face came up again, and she saw and heard him breathe deeply in relief. “Thank you, Lady Sorceress.”

  “I should state my terms for this promise.”

  “Your … terms, Lady Sorceress?”

  “You, and all your associates, must remain outside the borders of the Betaul Marches until and unless the Theocracy of Thendalia recognizes Elder Wendlin’s teachings as canonical.”

  Elder Bear did not immediately object, which both Isabelle and Clementa thought was a good sign. But his expression grew careful. “Lady Sorceress, with all respect, the people of Betaul have the right to hear Elder Wendlin’s message, even if the Theocracy hasn’t accepted it yet.”

  “They have a greater right to be protected from the horrors your people have brought to other parts of my homeland.”

  He swallowed. “Lady Sorceress, it’s true that Elder—” His mouth snapped closed, and Tabitha and her magi had the impression that he had been about to speak Walkering’s real name. Instead, he made a small gesture toward the men behind him. “Lady Sorceress, he is passionate. He overstepped himself, but please, please find it in your heart to forgive him.”

  “Elder Bear,” she said, speaking slowly to emphasize her displeasure, “as I have indicated, I oppose any violence against my people and any destruction of fields and homes. If you and the other shovel-men use such deplorable actions to spread Elder Wendlin’s message, you will never have my support.”