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

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  The door of the tent was made of cloth pinned taut around the frame. Velsa scratched her nails on it in lieu of knocking.

  Flower lifted the flap. Now she was wearing a filmy ankle-length dress of pale green with short fluttering sleeves that bared all of her stitches from shoulders to wrists, and heeled satin shoes. It was a dress of the Fallen Lands; newly imported, most likely. She had a necklace of rubies, which Velsa’s eyes instantly alighted on.

  “You’re back,” Flower said. “Haven’t you anything better to do?”

  “We have business with each other,” Velsa said. “You gave my crystal to Three-Tongues?”

  “It wasn’t even an especially valuable crystal. I don’t know why you’re so bent on having it.”

  “It meant a lot to me, and besides that—you owe me a debt. You owe me something. I never hurt you.”

  “You can expect all you like, but I’m not giving you anything. Not without a fight. Is it a fight you want?” She glanced backward.

  Dar appeared behind her. He had to bend over a little to see out the flap. “Look, doll, I tell you, you ought to just drop it.”

  Velsa felt a little light-headed. It would be very easy to give up and turn around. But the terror she had felt in the river would never fully leave her, and Flower was responsible for that. She knew she could handle them. “If you give me your rubies, I’ll leave you alone,” Velsa said. “Neither of you have telepathy. You’re not going to surprise me this time. I can take the rubies if you won’t give them to me.”

  “Do it, then. Take them.” Flower dropped the flap, withdrawing.

  Velsa shoved past it and grabbed Flower’s arm. She yanked her out into the open. Flower had fine clothes but she still didn’t have a metal skeleton; Velsa could hear her bones creak when she stumbled.

  Dar burst out of the flap, but Velsa pierced his mind. Don’t you dare.

  He stayed back. “Flower—maybe you ought to just give up the necklace. It’s a trifle. You have plenty more baubles.”

  “I’m not letting her have any of my baubles. I know you can attack me, Velsa, but do you have the stomach for it? I want to see you go through with it, that’s all.” Her eyes darted around.

  “Are you looking for someone?” Velsa asked, a little nervous now, because of what Dormongara had said.

  “No…” Flower stroked the necklace with her free hand.

  The thought of physically wrestling the necklace off of Flower was not appealing. Maybe telepathic persuasion was more unethical, but what did it matter at this point? “Give it to me,” Velsa said. “Or I’ll force you to give it to me.”

  “Force me. I’m used to being forced.”

  Flower did know how to rattle her, despite her lack of powers—comparing Velsa’s compulsion to her cruel masters. Dar, as always, was quiet almost to the point of seeming like a dullard when Flower started talking about how she had been treated. Velsa sensed that he didn’t like to think about that side of her. He just wanted a pretty little Fanarlem girl to dote on.

  Velsa focused. She had to open herself to Flower more than she would like, to make Flower bend to her will. She had to expose herself to the poison of Flower’s mind. It would all be over in a moment, if she didn’t let it bother her. Give the necklace to me.

  Flower’s jaw set as she tried to resist, but she was no match. Stiffly, her hands lifted to the clasp. With the tiniest click, the necklace was free, and she slid it into Velsa’s hand, a pile of glinting gems.

  “Are these real?” Velsa asked, forcing an honest answer.

  “Yes. Real rubies, real gold.”

  Velsa dropped the necklace in her pocket just as some shouting broke out in the square. Velsa looked over, but so did Flower. She seemed as on edge as Velsa was.

  It was hard to see what was causing the commotion by torch light. Some men were brawling, others pulling them apart. The prince’s guard rushed in to surround them. Was it just a couple of jealous men arguing over a flower, or something more, to be happening at the prince’s table?

  Flower shot Velsa a wicked smile before bolting toward the fray.

  “Hey!” Velsa dashed after her, only to feel a hand yank her hair.

  Dar hauled her up. “Just let her go.”

  “I will not! What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t know what your wife—if she is really your wife—is doing?”

  “I never know what she’s planning, but I’ll go where she goes, that’s all.” He released Velsa’s hair. “I’ll defend the prince; I just won’t touch a hair on her head.”

  “Neither of you really have loyalties, do you?” Velsa asked. But, then—maybe it was no wonder. Velsa wasn’t exactly loyal to any of these rulers herself. She let Dar go, and he ducked in the tent for his weapons.

  Some parents with children and young couples were scurrying back from the table. She walked a little closer and saw the prince’s guards leading off a few bearded men.

  “It was just some protesters,” a man said to some of the nervous people milling around. “Everyone’s fine.”

  “Only protesters?” Velsa asked.

  “Yeah, the Fur-and-Hide crowd; they think the prince brought Daramon corruption here with some of the performances.”

  “Oh.” Is that all? But then, why did Flower seem like she was waiting for something? Where had she run off to?

  Velsa started circling the area, looking for the other girl—searching with her mind more than her eyes, because there were many pockets of darkness between torches, many hiding places behind pavilions. Everyone who was not invited to the official feast was buying food to eat on the grass, still within sight of the royal entourage. Couples were kissing in the shadows. Children were excited, trying to break free of their parents’ hands. The crowds made it harder to sense Flower out; opening her mind, Velsa brushed against a thousand other minds.

  A wave of horror suddenly passed through her. She saw a flash of Grau’s vision—a door kicked open, Rovi shoved aside.

  Someone was attacking the house.

  Someone knew he was staying there, that he was vulnerable in his recovery.

  Of course, Flower did. She had heard it all from Eldisa and Meersha.

  “Fates,” Velsa gasped, her voice faint, and now she was running away from it all. The distance from here to Rovi’s house felt endless. She had to edge past crowds of people, skirt around families eating meat pastries on spread blankets.

  When she reached the edge of the square, she no longer had to dodge crowds, and she made a dash for her own street, but at the crossroads, Flower stepped in front of her, spreading her hands.

  “I think you’re too late,” she said.

  Velsa struck her down with telekinesis, and Flower dropped to the ground, but she thrust out her hand and fire leapt up Velsa’s skirt.

  Velsa instinctively smacked the flames, singing her hands, before composing herself enough to tamp the fire with telekinesis. “I’m not as scared of fire as I used to be,” she said.

  She knew Flower must have some sort of spell, since the girl was no sorceress, but Velsa almost cringed when Flower lifted up Velsa’s crystal. “I got it back from Three-Tongues,” she said. “And it’s charged up with a few handy spells, too.”

  “Give it to me—I don’t have time!” The crystal was not a real match for Velsa’s mind either. Telepaths always won against sorcerers—the age-old fight, as Grau said. Velsa pulled the crystal into her hand with telekinesis, feeling the hot thrum of unfamiliar spells. It was like a lost pet returning with scraggly fur, no longer smelling of home, but at least she had it.

  “Three-Tongues always collects his debts,” Flower said.

  They had been all wrong. They thought Three-Tongues wouldn’t dare return in the hubbub of the festival, but instead, he was using it as a distraction.

  Fear flooded Velsa. Grau was in trouble; she felt a sear of pain as if it was her own.

  I can’t die. Grau’s mind was clear. I can�
��t leave you alone—Velsa!

  She saw Rovi’s face screaming, knives and blood. Velsa wanted to curl up on the street right then and there and let out a scream of her own, but she had to keep going. Maybe she could stop them.

  Flower was easy to knock out of commission with one fierce thought. Clutching the crystal, although it no longer felt like much of a prize, Velsa kept running.

  Beyond the square, the streets were very quiet. So many flowers were strewn on the dirty roads that Velsa had to take care not to stumble on a thick blossom.

  Grau! What’s going on? Let me see through your eyes!

  She hadn’t heard from him in a minute now. Not since that sudden burst of panic, that furious will to live.

  Grau? Grau—you can’t be dead. You’re not dead, are you? Just say something to me…

  There was a body on the ground in front of Rovi’s house, groaning, stirring, clutching his shoulder. Too strapping to be Grau—it was Rovi’s husband, Clay.

  “Are you all right?” Velsa cried. “Where is he? Where is Three-Tongues?”

  “Gone…”

  “Gone?” Velsa flew to the door.

  Don’t come in. She heard Grau’s voice, very faint now. Don’t look, Velsa—

  Grau! I don’t care, as long as you’re alive…

  “Lass—lass, don’t go in there!” Or was the voice she had heard just Clay?

  “Why?”

  “You don’t want to see it.”

  A wave of trembling passed through Velsa’s body, and she couldn’t control it. “Is—is Rovi dead?”

  “No, she’s—no, they only roughed her up a bit. It’s just—your man.” He forced himself to his feet. He took her by the shoulder and pulled her back from the door.

  Velsa couldn’t speak. She gripped his arm so tight she felt her fingers could snap. “No—no, let me see him.”

  “No,” he said. “He’s dead. He’s—without question— He can’t be saved.”

  Velsa screamed. The whole neighborhood would hear her; the prince could probably hear her in the square. Clay held her and was saying something to her, but she could have been in anyone’s arms—a statue, or Madam Blazar, she wouldn’t have noticed any of it.

  My crystal. She thought she felt Grau’s voice again, reaching into her despair. Get my crystal.

  “But he’s alive,” she cried. “I hear him!”

  “No, lass…he’s not alive.”

  She grew unsure. Maybe she was imagining the voice. His voice wasn’t there in the same way it would have been if he was speaking to her. It could be her own mind playing tricks on her.

  But she quieted down. “His crystal,” she said. “Please—I need it.”

  “You’ll have it, but…”

  “I need it right now, please. Please.”

  “All right. You wait here.” He opened the door. Velsa took a few steps away from it, feeling a sudden violent need to distance herself from even the suggestion that Grau might be dead—without question— She shuddered, thinking of all of Three-Tongues’s knives.

  When she walked into the street, she heard someone approaching down the road, walking briskly but a little unevenly, walking stick digging into the dirt with each step. She looked up to see a tall, black figure. Dormongara. He was a very imposing figure, cloaked in his shadows, with a dark gaze. And he had Flower slung over his shoulder.

  Velsa waited, frozen, until he came close.

  “What happened?” he asked, calm but demanding.

  “Grau…”

  “I know that. Who killed him?”

  “Three-Tongues…but he seems to be gone.”

  “Maybe they had teleportation stones.” Dormongara pulled Flower off his shoulder and into his arms. “Does she have anything to do with this?”

  “Yes. She knew about it.”

  “I’d like to question her.”

  “Do you still think someone is attempting to assassinate the prince?”

  “Well, as I’ve said, the Kalora family has a very good reason to wish for instability and war. And Grau was not the only man to be killed tonight; there was also a guard with a slit throat. I can’t be sure if the protesters were collaborating with the Kaloras. Wake her up and we shall see what we learn.”

  Hearing him speak the words again, that Grau was killed, Velsa needed no more provocation. She shook Flower’s arm, forcing her awake. She blinked, coming to, and saw Dormongara.

  “And who are you, sir?” She was trying to sound indignant.

  “The Keeper of the Dead. You are acquainted with Three-Tongues Kalora?”

  “Yes, but—“

  “Velsa, you can assure that she does not lie, can’t you? I know you are fairly gifted.”

  Velsa nodded. She felt oddly exhilarated, despite the immense sorrow threatening to overwhelm her.

  “Tell me why you came here, what plans you may have had.”

  Velsa pressed on her mind. Tell the truth or I will hurt you.

  “Plans,” she spat. “You’ve seen our plans. Three-Tongues wanted revenge on Grau.”

  “Is he still lurking around?”

  “I don’t know—he was supposed to wait for me here, and he didn’t. It must have been too dangerous.” Flower’s mind was trying to shy back as she spoke.

  “He had no other designs on anyone today? Just Grau?”

  “Yes,” Flower said. “Just Grau.”

  “You’re lying about something,” Velsa said.

  “No!”

  “You’re withholding something.”

  “Drag it from me, then!” Flower’s eyes flashed. “Cause me pain, Velsa. I don’t care. I won’t give up secrets. I’m just glad I got to see this day—you, left all alone. Your sweet, provincial husband chopped up like a market pig. No one to love you now; no one to hold you ever again. And I know, on every cold night, as long as you live, you will think of me.”

  This hit close to Velsa’s heart. It was similar to how Flower threatened her before throwing her in the river, and she had been right, then—Velsa did often think of Flower while she struggled to fall asleep, and what saved her from those dark thoughts was having Grau beside her.

  “No!” Velsa gasped. “No!”

  Velsa grabbed Flower by both of her arms. Her mind erupted with all the emotion she was barely holding back. Flower would do more than tell the truth—she would be split to pieces herself. She would feel pain as if she had a flesh and blood body. Her mind would shatter into endless despair. She would confess Three-Tongues’s secrets and every word she spoke would be like knives on her tongue.

  Flower screamed, a horrible screech of agony.

  Dormongara stepped back as her body spasmed with pain.

  “Tell me what you planned,” he commanded.

  Her hip joints snapped, and without being joined, her legs sagged to the ground. Velsa was holding her by the arms, Flower’s weight pulling on her shoulders. Her eyes bugged. Velsa saw sparks; she was no longer herself. She was in a storm of her own anger. “Answer the man,” she said. Her voice was low. She had never spoken with such venom.

  Something inside Flower shattered. As Velsa had intended—but not the way she expected.

  She went quiet and limp, her spirit suddenly gone. Her soul— Her soul was gone.

  Dormongara grabbed one of her arms from Velsa. “She ascended. You are in my realm now, girl…” He pulled out a crystal of his own, very clear and palm-size. “Nar calla, block her spirit. Tether her to me. Tether her to me!”

  Like the reflection in a hand mirror, Flower’s small, anguished face appeared blurry in the crystal’s facet.

  “You have died in vain,” Dormongara said. “I will trap you here as long as I like.”

  “You can’t!” Flower protested.

  “Maybe your ability to resist will surprise me, but I doubt it.”

  In this moment, Dormongara suddenly became one of Velsa’s favorite people. She reached for the crystal herself, almost without thinking. Dormongara let her have it. Velsa’s powe
rs overflowed, all her pain pouring into the crystal, where Flower’s tinny voice screamed.

  “What do you want from me?” she cried. “Please…please.”

  “I want you to suffer,” Velsa growled.

  “Please—Three-Tongues—he did have a plan for attacking the royal family—“

  “Yes?” Dormongara asked.

  “He never told me what it was. He didn’t trust me that much.”

  “Is that all you know?”

  “It wasn’t meant for tonight. I think he was planning something in the capital.”

  “I see.”

  “Please—let me go.”

  “Not now. You might be useful yet.” Flower let out a sob of protest. Dormongara closed his fist around the crystal, and put it back in his pocket.

  “Here is…his crystal.” Clay was standing outside of the house. Velsa hadn’t even noticed him emerge. He must have been waiting for them to end their interrogation.

  Velsa took the crystal. It felt like Grau. Warm and familiar. “Grau…” Her voice broke. “Grau, I’m sorry.”

  “May I see this a moment?” Dormongara asked, putting his hand on the crystal.

  Only because his voice was grave and—for him—gentle, did she allow it.

  “In the moment of Flower’s death, I forced her to be tied to my crystal,” Dormongara said. “But sometimes souls who don’t wish to die voluntarily tether themselves. And so it is that spirits walk the earth. I sense Grau’s spirit is still clinging to the crystal.”

  “He will—haunt the crystal? Or—“ She understood. “I could turn him into a Fanarlem…couldn’t I?”

  “Most likely.”

  “That’s what he would want…or so he said.”

  It was not what Velsa would have ever chosen for him. This life of ostracism…of endless yearning, as if her soul remembered true life. In a way, he had been a proxy for the living, breathing body she would never have. She lived when she felt his breath and heartbeat, when he was making love to her, when she could pretend she was an extension of him.

  But he always said that she felt as alive as any living being, even when she slept, still and cold beside him.

  “Lass, maybe you’d better head home,” Clay said gently. “I’m going to get some of the neighbors over and they’ll help us take care of this and we’ll report to the guard. Tomorrow you can tell us how he would want to be buried or otherwise, but for now, just rest. Be with your family.”