The Sorcerer's Equal (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 3)

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  Someone knocked on the door, and their laughter died.

  A woman with a basket of vegetables and a slightly embarrassed expression stood on the other side. She was tanned with round cheeks, blondish-brown hair tied back into a hasty ponytail, dirty fingernails, calloused hands. Behind her slouched Ruven, Tomato’s owner, with a cavalier expression on his pretty face. Tomato looked at Ruven and bobbed his head up and down, looking all the world like he was trying to remember who the boy was.

  “Hello.” The woman ducked her head in a quick bow. “I’m Myrini; we own the farm up on the hill. Apparently my son dumped his summer job on you. He’s supposed to be training that creature, not handing him over to someone else. I hope he hasn’t peed on anything.”

  “Nothing…important,” Velsa said. “But we love Tomato.”

  “I told you,” Ruven said.

  Myrini kneaded her forehead. “I’m not sure you’ll love him if he starts peeing on things.”

  “We leave the window cracked for him at night,” Sorla said. “He also kills mice. He’s all sorts of useful.”

  Ruven lifted a hand to Sorla like, Thank you! See!

  Sorla, in response, smiled in a flustered way.

  “Well, he’s supposed to be all sorts of useful, but he’s been slow to take to training,” Myrini said. “He’s not supposed to grab things off of tables, or drink from the table pitcher, or mess with guests’ hair…where do I begin? If you’re happy with him, well…”

  “We are,” Kessily said. “I didn’t mean to steal him from you, but he really has been helpful.”

  “He groomed her feathers,” Ruven said. “That’s why I gave him to her.”

  Kessily flushed. “I—I’d really be happy to keep him for the summer and try and train him myself, if you tell me what you want him to do.”

  Myrini shrugged. “I suppose it’ll give this one more time for mucking out the stables,” she said, mussing Ruven’s hair. He fixed it immediately, scowling.

  “But I was right,” he told his mother. “Look, Tomato likes them more than he ever liked me.” He pointed at Sorla, who was now holding Tomato in her arms like a baby. “It was love at first sight for the little guy.”

  Myrini sighed and finally handed Velsa the basket. “Well, I brought you these by way of apology, but I’m glad it wasn’t necessary. I heard that—all of you eat.” Velsa realized this was the first time Myrini had acknowledged, in any way, that Velsa and Sorla were Fanarlem. This was a good sign that it was at least somewhat true, after all, that the Miralem treated Fanarlem like real people.

  “We appreciate it very much, and we do all eat,” Velsa said, glancing over radishes, rhubarb, spinach and spring onions, all so fresh and bright that she suspected Myrini had taken them from her garden right before she came. “In fact, Sorla is a wonderful cook.”

  “Oh, is that so, dear? Well, you’ll have to come up to the farm sometime, and I’ll show you how to make my rhubarb and strawberry dabble.”

  “What is a dabble?”

  “That’s why you’ll come, hey?”

  As Velsa shut the door, the fluttering, happy mood of having unexpected friendly visitors settled over them. Sorla seemed especially cheerful and Velsa had a tiny prickle of skepticism. Ruven was just the sort of nonthreatening, lovely young man that girls of twelve or thirteen went mad for. She remembered going to a street performance at that same age, and how half of the other concubines-in-training left in love with the boy who juggled in between acts. Yes, he could have been Ruven’s brother, the more she thought about it.

  “I can’t keep eating your food,” Kessily said the next morning, when Sorla presented her and Grau with breakfast soup.

  “Good luck eating someone else’s food,” Grau said.

  “Ha ha.” Kessily stared into her bowl. “But…truly. You don’t have much money. Two of you don’t even have to eat. Who does have to eat? Me. And I’m going crazy. I know I have to face this problem. I have to expel the bird spirit.”

  “We’ll help as much as we can,” Grau said. “I’m sure between my sorcery and Velsa’s telepathy, we can get you there.”

  Velsa remembered how Irik had struggled to control her shape-shifting. What if something happens to Kessily? She helped us escape Nalim Ima. I’d never forgive myself.

  Grau seemed confident, at least. But Grau was known to seem more confident than a situation warranted.

  Tomato lifted his head from sleep like he sensed something was about to happen.

  “Right now?” Sorla asked warily.

  “If I don’t try now, I’ll never do it,” Kessily said. She took a deep breath and moved to the center of the room.

  “I could take your hand—or wing—if you like,” Velsa said.

  “No…,” Kessily said. “I think—I think I know how to begin. Just don’t let me get lost.”

  She took another deep breath, tipping her head back, shutting her eyes. Her wings twitched as she spread them halfway—as far as the room would allow. Her throat caught with a sound of pain. Grau scrambled out of his seat at the table to stand near Velsa.

  Kessily’s breath came a little more ragged now.

  “Don’t fear the process,” Grau said.

  Now Kessily panted, rapid gasps, close to panic, and her body began to twist.

  Her knees buckled under her as her legs changed shape. Her wings beat like a bird trapped, like she wasn’t the one controlling them anymore. Sorla squealed and backed up toward the wall. Kessily fell backwards. Her knees snapped the wrong way and her legs shrunk down, changing fully into the scaly legs of a bird. Her chest contorted, splitting the seams of her clothing. Kessily’s head thrashed, and she choked like she couldn’t breathe.

  Sorla flat-out screamed now.

  “Kessily!” Velsa tried to touch her wildly beating wing and was smacked back. Was this normal?

  “Deep breaths,” Grau said, holding up his crystal. “Work with the bird spirit, not against. You don’t have to be at odds.”

  When Irik changed, it was painful but smooth, and over in seconds.

  Kessily’s transformation seemed to last forever, although truly it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. She didn’t change all at once the way Irik did. It swept across her in a wave from the feet on up, so that now she still had the head and breasts of a girl, and the rest of her was a huge black bird, struggling to right itself. She looked like she was drowning in her own changing form, her face struggling to keep above the feathers threatening to consume her.

  “It’s hurting her!” Sorla sobbed. “Do something!”

  Velsa shook her head. I know it looks bad, but it’s part of the process, she told Sorla telepathically. But was this true?

  Kessily’s eyes darted and she screamed in a choked way. She didn’t seem to see Grau standing over her. He put his crystal against her forehead, the same way he had done with Irik. Velsa stepped into Kessily’s mind. It was a blur of searing pain and such consuming fear that it was no wonder she struggled to breathe. She felt the bird, desperate to break free.

  Bird spirit…you can go. Please—this body isn’t yours anymore.

  The bird didn’t seem to understand Velsa’s thoughts at all. It was flutter and panic, like tiny wings beating Velsa’s skull from the inside. She drew back.

  “Kessily,” Grau said. “Let go for a moment. Let go. We’ll bring you back. I promise.”

  Kessily let out a sob, her skull pressing against the floor, neck strained, eyes rolling back. By now, Tomato was flying around and squawking with anguish, but Sorla grabbed him in mid-flight. She clutched him to her chest.

  The spell finally consumed Kessily’s face, her eyes turning entirely black, feathers smothering her skin, a beak breaking forth from her mouth. There was no girl now. No trace of Kessily. Just a panicked bird, beat its wings and struggling to its feet, careening toward one of the windows. She beat her beak on the panes.

  Free! Free! the bird thought in desperation. It? Her? How should she think of t
his wild animal, pent within the walls of their little house, with their friend trapped inside?

  Velsa’s insides churned. She wanted to panic too. She had never even known Kessily before the spell damaged her, but she could easily imagine the competent girl who had helped her parents on a trader boat. Velsa wanted to see her put back to herself. The bird would have been a majestic sight, if it was just a bird. But now, it was grotesque.

  The bird let out a shrill, inhuman cry.

  “Grau!” Velsa clutched her hands. “We shouldn’t have let her do it…oh, fates!” The bird’s wing knocked all their plates off the table. Luckily they were wood but one of them cracked.

  Grau threw his arms around the bird, trying to pin it back down on the ground. It flapped in his face. Velsa saw him clutch his stomach, although he quickly pulled away. He was trying to hide his pain from her, she thought, and she wondered how often he was doing it.

  “Kessily!” Grau shouted. “Look at me!”

  Grau looked very serious for a moment, almost angry. “This is bad magic. Two spirits in one body. Kessily has been dominating the bird’s will. It’s an abuse of sorcery. Part of the pact we make when we work with nature is that we won’t dominate it like that.”

  “We promised Kessily we wouldn’t let the bird take over!”

  “I know.”

  The bird scratched him with a flailing talon, and he grabbed it by both feet like a misbehaving chicken. A very strong chicken.

  “You might be able to help her, Velsa. Keep talking to her, so she doesn’t get lost. I need to connect with the spirit of the bird and…reassure it. Somehow or other.”

  “I’ve been trying! It’s hard. I feel the bird and it doesn’t understand reassurance.”

  “Trust me,” he said.

  For the first time in her life, Velsa wanted to question Grau’s sorcery. Did he really know what he was doing, or had all those compliments back in Nalim Ima inflated his confidence?

  Or was it simply that her own old fear of transformation reared its head?

  She couldn’t help but imagine how she would feel if her own limbs transformed before her eyes, if some invading animal spirit pressed upon her mind. Kessily…please listen to me. You can do this. She scrambled to find Kessily’s spirit, to separate the wild bird from the frightened girl. The bird didn’t want to surrender.

  Velsa recalled the horror of trying to escape the Peacock General’s house, detaching her head from her body, and then having to take Pin’s face. She felt like she’d left a piece of herself behind in Nalim Ima; some other girl wearing her skin forever.

  “You are dead, my friend,” Grau said gently. “You have to go.”

  The bird struggled against him and he had to let go. He held up his crystal again, tracking its movements. The bird immediately careened toward the window.

  Tomato burst from Sorla’s arms and flew to the door. Sorla cried out and tried to stop him, but his little hand opened the door.

  The bird burst from the frame, gone before Velsa and Grau could do anything. They all ran outside to follow, but the bird had already taken flight.

  Kessily! Velsa screamed telepathically. Kessilyyy!

  Tomato followed Kessily into the sky.

  The bird was swift, heading toward the mountains, quickly growing smaller against the endless blue. Velsa could feel her slipping quickly out of range. Sorla waved her hands and screamed Kessily’s name. Grau looked grim, clutching his messy hair. “Damn, I wish I was telepathic right about now. Crystals don’t have much range. Why did you teach the wyvern to unlock the door?” he yelled at Sorla.

  Sorla’s jaw quivered briefly like she was going to cry. Grau never yelled. “It wasn’t us. He already knew how to open doors.”

  Kessily!

  Kessily couldn’t hear her. Velsa was sure of this now. They watched the bird turn from a winged shape to a black speck and finally, they couldn’t see it anymore.

  Grau’s mouth hung open. This was obviously not the outcome he expected. Velsa grabbed his arm. “She wasn’t ready…”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Grau said. “She was supposed to stay like that forever? She couldn’t. She knew it.”

  “At least she had control of her wits.” Velsa clutched his sleeves, swallowing back a sob. “I failed her. I was scared while she was transforming.”

  “You didn’t fail her. We had to try.”

  “She should have gone with Dormongara…”

  “What if—now—she’s trapped in the bird?” Sorla wrung her hands. “What if the bird carries her away and she can never come home again and she’s scared?”

  “She’ll find a way to break out of it.” Grau rubbed his forehead. “I like Kessily. I don’t want her to feel lost and frightened. But this had to be faced. I tell you, it’s bad magic.”

  They looked at the sky again, all of them, as if sharing a collective wish that they would see the bird circle back around and return home.

  The world seemed very still, and the sky seemed very bird-less.

  Sorla flung the door open and went into the house, sniffing. She picked up the torn pieces of Kessily’s outfit. “Tomato’s gone, too,” she whispered. “It was so much better not to sleep alone.”

  Grau sat down at the table, moving as if in slow motion. “She’s a grown woman. A sorceress. She can take care of herself if she has to.”

  “We have to go find her!” Sorla cried.

  “We don’t have any money for a searching spell…” Grau put his hand on Sorla’s arm briefly before letting it slide back down. “Maybe it was too soon. But she wanted to try.”

  Velsa had thought things weren’t off to such a bad start, with the funny little wyvern and some friendly neighbors, but now their good luck seemed to have turned. She hardly slept that night, but kept moving to the window to stare out at the sky and send out a telepathic beacon for Kessily, only to meet with nothing, and Grau would climb out of bed and put a hand around her shoulders, urging her back to the covers.

  Chapter 7

  “Good morning, bellora…” Grau woke her a few mornings later with a whisper in her ear.

  “Don’t want to get up…,” she murmured. “I don’t want to look for a job.”

  “I have a small surprise for you.”

  “Ohhh.” She blinked awake. The sun was just coming up, the light soft through the curtains. Her body was folded into his warm one, and the very gentle caresses of his hand made her warmer still. She rolled over to face him and put a hand on his bare chest. “Mm…what surprise?”

  “It begins with undressing you. I can’t let you go looking for a job wearing some terrible pink thing.”

  “You got me new clothes? When? Where?”

  “I went out while you and Sorla were buying food.”

  “Grau! It hurts you to walk.”

  “You’re worrying over nothing,” he said. “What do you know about pain, Miss Doll? It’s not excruciating pain, it’s just dull and constant.”

  “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound like anything to worry about, then.”

  “It’s not.” He played with a lock of her hair, rather absently, but even the gentle tug of this small motion on her scalp felt sensual. “Turn over.”

  She did, trying to suppress the desire sending tingles through her body.

  The outfit the Peacock General gave her served appropriately enough for bedclothes, if not for much else. Very slowly he unbuttoned the garment from the back of her neck down, releasing the tight fabric like a long-held breath. It loosened around her neck, her breasts, and finally her hips as he worked down to the small of her back. She felt each little button press against her spine before it broke free. He peeled down the shoulders to reveal her breasts.

  “I want you…so badly,” he said.

  She stiffened, with a little gasp at the wave of anticipation that rolled through her entire body at his words.

  “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Oh, it would be worth it.”

  He p
ut his hands on her ribcage, and stroked up to cup her small breasts. He was breathing unsteadily as he pinched her nipples. They were already so tight that it felt as if the fabric that formed her entire torso was stretching to meet those little points, that her rib cage was strained against her skin. Every inch of her was tingling and hungry.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Grau…please…” If he couldn’t see it through now, she would be left feeling so empty.

  No, it was already too late. She was already desperate for his touch.

  “That face you give me,” he said. “Dear fates…”

  His hands dropped to her waist, tearing her clothes away from her legs, unusually urgent. He produced a bottle of oil from somewhere beside his side of the bed.

  So, he had planned for this sort of morning all along. Maybe I could put off searching for a job for one more day…

  She squelched the thought. She had already procrastinated for several days, fretting over the loss of Kessily, but she had promised Sorla that today would be the day.

  He slid two slick fingers inside her. She gasped, arching her back, parting her legs wider. “Yes…” She went from cool to burning in seconds as his fingers stroked her. It felt like it had been ages upon ages since he had touched her like this.

  “Oh, bellora, I can’t wait.”

  He fumbled with his trousers and then he turned her onto her back, shoving her legs up so that her knees pinned down her elbows, taking advantage of her flexibility. The pose spread her open for him and she gasped with anticipation. His warm body draped over hers and he thrust into her deeply with the pent desire of weeks.

  Grau was usually patient. Today he was sweaty, barbarian, grinding into her, his strong arms bearing down on her slender limbs.

  This, she knew, was the animal part of his brain that had fought for survival, that had almost lost this—lost her—forever. A part of her wanted to hold him now, to fight her arms and legs free of his grasp and put them around him in an embrace, and another part of her was more aroused by the helplessness of her position against his wildness.