Keepers of the Flame

by Robin D. Owens

  A few minutes later Bri followed the trotting greyhound. As expected, she got a lot of glances, but also smiles and waves.

  People eyed the little dog with respect. The waves of energy and musical notes she was beginning to understand told her that he was a Powerful creature, that being with him added to her image, and that no one really knew much about fey-coo-cus or Exotiques so they treated them well.

  Tuckerinal kept a steady pace, but not too quick that Bri couldn’t take time to look at houses and the green squares around which they were built that showed summer blooms: lavender, roses, and a sweet-scented gray-green moss with bell-like white flowers.

  The town was walled, with square and round towers at intervals, in matched pairs on opposite sides. Some had belvederes or cupolas on the top. In the distance to the south she could see newer stone encompassing the city as it grew. An ominous sign. As Earth towns had grown, they’d overflowed the city walls and the need for such defense.

  Tuckerinal stopped outside a tall, narrow and shabby building with a creaking sign that changed from black to white and back again. The Nom de Nom.

  The dog sat and wagged his tail, lolled his tongue. My favorite place here in Castleton.

  13

  The door opened and rich cooking odors wafted out.

  “Salutations, Medica Elizabeth, shouldn’t you—” The female middle-aged Chevalier stopped, stared at the purple streaks in Bri’s much shorter hair.

  Her companion, a woman with a shield embroidered on her tunic, smiled broadly, elbowed her fellow, did a little bow. “Salutations, Medica Bri.”

  Evidently they’d met her twin. Bri nodded. “Salutations.”

  “Your sister helped heal us today,” the first said, her brows lowered. “The fine was extortionate.”

  The other grimaced. “The fine was just.” She linked hands with the first. “Come along, we have better things to do than complain.” With a wink, they sauntered off toward the main road that led to the Castle.

  Bri entered. The Nom de Nom looked like many a tavern on Earth. To the right was a long bar, with a man tending it. To the left was a series of red-seated wooden booths.

  Tuckerinal yipped and wagged his tail when a chorus of voices greeted him, calling “fey-coo-cu,” though Bri sensed that many weren’t sure which one he was. There were plenty of men and women standing or leaning against the bar, but it didn’t appear to be a crowded time of day.

  Most of the booths were full, including the last one where people were rising with mugs and plates, apparently moving to an empty place.

  That is OUR booth. Tuckerinal’s muzzle lifted with pride. Alexa likes it the best so we always get it.

  Another perk, not too shabby.

  Trotting toward it, Tuckerinal said, Don’t look up.

  Of course she did. Monster trophies. Breath strangled in her throat, the edges of her vision went gray.

  Tuckerinal barked.

  “Here, there.” A strong arm slid behind her back. “I guess no one told you about the trophies.”

  Bri couldn’t even manage a squeak.

  “Clear the way for the Exotique Medica!” the man ordered and Bri realized that he’d previously spoken in English. Blinking hard to settle her vision, she brought him into focus. Another attractive Lladranan man. Wide temples, skin tanned golden, well-formed features. She realized she was clutching his nice, firm, strong biceps with both hands, but didn’t care. “Who?”

  “I’m Koz. Marian’s brother. Formerly Andrew.”

  Seemed she couldn’t escape Marian’s folks. Bri sagged against him. She should have been refreshed from her nap, should have been able to handle the monster parts, but no. This all was hitting her far more than usual for a stay in a new country. Of course, it was a different dimension.

  He half-lifted her and toted her to the edge of the bench of the last booth, urged her head between her knees.

  “It catches most of us at first. Not exactly elk and deer.” His English had a definite Lladranan accent, as if his tongue wasn’t used to speaking English words his mind knew.

  “No,” she forced out between breaths.

  Here there be monsters. Mounted heads and paws and tentacles and wings. The big black bristly one that snarled had long curving claws that looked capable of killing with one swipe. Torso and paws were attached to plaques. The equally sickening yellow-furred one had mean little glass eyes of red, shorter fur and spines which, given the state of things, were probably poisonous. A few spines were showcased, too. The third monster—horror, and they were horrors—was not as hefty as the other two, looked more supple, and had gray skin and two tentacles with suckers at each shoulder and a hole for the nose. The last was a beaky, sharp-toothed skull of a flying dinosaur.

  “What are they?”

  Koz lifted her hand and curved it around an icy tumbler. She raised her head, carefully avoiding looking up.

  “The black one is called a render, the yellow a slayer and the third a soul-sucker. It doesn’t really suck your soul, more like your energy. The final one is a dreeth.”

  “Ah.” She met his mild gaze. He’d know. He was dressed in Chevalier leathers, and if she wasn’t mistaken, had a sucker scar on the back of his left hand.

  “Guess you didn’t read any of the Exotique Lorebooks before you came.”

  She took a long, deep drink, grateful for the cool water sliding down her throat, swung her legs in and under the table, propped her elbows on it. “It’s my first day here. What did you do on your first day?”

  “I died.”

  Christ. She put her head in her hands.

  Tuckerinal growled from her left, likely on the table. Castleton probably didn’t have a Health Department, no one seemed disturbed, shape-shifting magical creatures probably didn’t have fleas. And all this mental babbling was to avoid thinking, more to escape feeling.

  Koz curved his hands around hers.

  “That wasn’t well done of me,” he said quietly. “But it was irresistible as a comeback.”

  For a moment she and Koz stared at each other silently, while Tuckerinal curled up and closed his eyes. Bri thought she could see a difference in his expression from other Lladranans. He’d know at a glance that she hadn’t exactly fit into mainstream States structure.

  He smiled. “I lived in California.”

  Well, that said it all. Maybe she might have fit in there after all. But she wanted Colorado.

  The barmaid sidled up to them with drinks, set them on the table, glanced at Bri’s face and hair and slipped away. Bri’s nose twitched at the scent of tea. She pulled the cup toward her, sniffed again and smiled.

  “Thought you might like a cup,” Koz said. “Time-honored girl drink, good for shock and what ails you.”

  Bri sipped. The tea was hot and strong and of excellent flavor. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You calling me girly?”

  “Oh, yeah!” He leered.

  A chuckle bubbled from her.

  “The local ladies just don’t get me.” He looked soulful.

  “I bet they get you plenty.”

  He laughed and Bri understood she’d been trying to ease the tension between them, perhaps even the subtle stress in the room. This was, after all, a gathering place of people whose life spans might be cut short the next battle, and everyone knew it.

  She tapped the rim of her cup. “Tea?” Everyone else was drinking ale or liquor.

  “They keep it for Alexa. She doesn’t drink alcohol.”

  “And Alexa always gets what she wants?”

  A lift and drop of a shoulder from Koz. “Pretty much. She was the first,” he said simply. “She’s still the most unpredictable in the minds of people and she’s of the highest rank in the land, a Swordmarshall.”

  “And she’s little and cute.”

  He raised his mug in a toast. “Little, anyway.”

  “Ayes.” The woman was a warrior, it would be rare to see her cute, though Bri had caught glimpses of it. No doubt that would wear o
ff, a pity.

  She leaned forward. “Tell me, Koz, how does it feel to have your mind and soul living in a different body?”

  14

  The farm family had sold out of their produce by the time Sevair and the Citymasters’ carriage reached Noix Market. Naturally word of the daughter’s collapse and healing had spread. Everyone wanted to hear the family’s experiences with the new Exotique Medica.

  Sevair had ordered the carriage to accommodate mother and daughter and rode with the former on their cart back to their fields. He closed his eyes as he recalled the frantic mother rushing in with her daughter. The girl was large and heavy-boned, yet reminded him of his sister who had taken a chill and died when a child. The helplessness of the adults, he supposed. Except Bri.

  Thank the Song for the Exotique healers. They gave him hope that this disease would be beaten before it swept Lladrana with such vigor that it became a plague.

  He decided that he and the other Citymasters must part with some good zhiv to purchase crystal balls for each mayor so they could communicate faster. Each city and town had cherished their autonomy, but now was the time to pull together. Over the last few weeks it had become obvious that the medicas could not cure the sickness and that it threatened them all. Especially the few villages in the north, as if the north, with the invading monsters, didn’t have enough devastation. Those places should have the crystals first.

  A fleeting thought came—he’d heard mirrors might also be bespelled for communication. The Circlets might prefer expensive crystal balls, but the townsfolk would be happy with mirror-talk. He’d ask Marian, the Circlet Exotique, just how much such workings would cost.

  Castleton had a healthy emergency fund, and other major cities such as Troque and Krache might also. Enough to cover the expense for the less prosperous villages.

  Speaking with the Exotique Circlet was always the right way to proceed, or even Exotique Alexa. They were more cognizant of the over-riding problems of the whole land rather than stuck in one rut of society.

  “Heavy thoughts, Citymaster?” rumbled the farmer next to him—Cley, Sevair recalled his name.

  “This sickness makes for heavy thoughts,” Sevair said.

  “Ayes, indeed.” The man’s voice trembled, his hands tightened around the reins but did not pull to discomfort the horses. A strong, controlled man, qualities Sevair admired most.

  “We are doing our best to eradicate the sickness.”

  Cley nodded. “Ayes. We of the farms know that.” He added drily, “The Marshalls, as the major landowners of Lladrana, hold the independent farmers as their responsibilities. They have been busy fighting and plotting against the Dark, but they must consider our well-being more. Please remind them of that.”

  Sevair gritted his teeth. Just what he liked doing, reminding others of a higher status than he of their responsibilities. He remembered the last, disastrous time he’d done that—confronted Circlet Jaquar, only to find that one of his own staff had been at fault.

  His former assistant had betrayed the Cities and Towns—and farmers—to serve the Dark, as its new Master, the controller of the monsters.

  The new Master who had sent that evil message with the chevaliers the night before. That Sevair had been so wrong in his judgement of Jumme had shaken him, and he still grieved for the man he thought Jumme had been, perhaps had been before he’d yielded to corruption.

  “I thank you again for Summoning the Exotique Medica,” Cley said.

  “Keeping the Exotiques has always been a problem,” Sevair reflected as he thought of the battle ahead. He and the other City and Townmasters had gone ’round and ’round that issue. What if the one they Summoned was the one to return? So far Lladrana had been lucky, or fought hard, to ensure that the Exotiques stayed. Someday luck would run out.

  The farmer looked at him, a slight smile curving his lips and showing in his eyes. “Ayes, I know people and that Exotique Medica I saw is the type who is always on the move, never still.” He snorted, shook his head. “Purple hair.”

  Sevair winced.

  Koz smiled at Bri, quick and charming, and it lit his eyes. He leaned back against the red leather of the booth and swallowed a mouthful of ale. When he was done, he said, “You are the only one who’s ever asked me how it felt to have my mind and soul transferred to a different body.”

  Bri blinked. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really. Marian doesn’t like to talk about it. Since it bothers Marian, no one else does. Not one Circlet or medica. Guess they think it would bother me, too.” Shifting in his seat, he said, “It was a traumatic day all around.” He grimaced. “She calls me Koz, but still thinks of me as Andrew.”

  “Aren’t you Andrew?”

  “Mostly.” He thumped his chest. “But the body is Lladranan, and Koz.” He shrugged. “I have some shadow memories of the Koz-soul.” Sadness draped his features. “He loved his Pairling, his Shield, very much.”

  “How does it feel?” Bri went back to her original question.

  He straightened. Fire lit his eyes. “Good. It feels good.” Then he raised a hand. “No, it feels great. I had multiple sclerosis, my body was deteriorating. It was only a matter of time before I had to make choices.”

  Bri understood that suicide was often a decision MS sufferers chose. Her throat closed. She took another sip of tea, let it trickle down, warm her, soothe her.

  “And now?”

  Koz stretched luxuriously, as if savoring the extension of every muscle, the stretch of every tendon. “Koz was in prime shape.” His grin flashed again. “A little older than me, but I didn’t mind that at all. He had an athletic life as a Chevalier in Alexa’s household. Andrew’d contracted MS early, had never been able to be active.” He inhaled deeply, expanding his muscular chest, let the breath out through flared nostrils. “Lots of room in here.”

  Then he tapped his head. “Hadn’t developed as much brain power. I could feel new synapses linking.”

  “You had muscle and motor memory, of course.”

  “Yeah, and learning that was tough, too. How to walk like a healthy Lladranan, while my mind remembered creeping around with canes. I worked out like crazy those first months, pushed the physical limits of the body, just to determine them.” Again he slapped his chest, grinned. “Now all circuits are fully integrated.”

  “I didn’t see the Lorebook of Exotique Koz in my to-be-read stack.”

  He stared at her in surprise. “I didn’t write one.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t the only one fascinated with medicine, interested in new techniques, the only one who’d received the “love of learning” gene from their parents. “Write it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Bri swallowed the last of her tea. There was no pot on the table to refresh the drink; she waggled her cup. “So, what’s good here?”

  “I like the ale. Marian goes for the mead. More tea?”

  “No thanks.” Not yet. She’d have to look up and study the monsters before she left, planned on being pleasantly tipsy before she did. “Where’s our food?”

  As if waiting for that signal, the burgers were slid in front of them. Bri’s plate had a colorful side of steamed vegetables, some of which she didn’t recognize. She speared a long green thing that wasn’t quite a green bean or pea pod. Chewed. Yum.

  Pointing her fork at Koz, she said, “Tell me stories.”

  He gestured to a door across the way, at the end of the bar. “There’s a room full of banners and plaques of the ones who have died fighting in the last three years.”

  She swallowed hard, ordered ale. “Let’s start with cheerful stories.” Then she turned and looked at the bar, catching most of the Chevaliers there off-guard staring at her. Waving her fork, she said, “All of you tell me stories of Lladrana.”

  Though Sevair was not much of a landsman, he and his coach driver helped the family with their evening chores. Later they sat at the table when the Song of thanks was sung and ate the dinner another daughter
who’d stayed home had prepared. Countryfolk supped early and Sevair walked in the evening while his coachman and horses rested before the trip back to Castleton.

  When he looked west, the city was a few slight spires and towers in the distance. The spires from the large church he was decorating, the towers of the old city wall that he’d repaired, or new in the south of the city as it had grown, that he had helped build. His heart tightened. He loved the place. His parents had died when he was sixteen and in his last year as a journeyman, and he’d transferred all his caring to the town. The town would never abandon him like his sister and his parents, never fail him. Another shard of pain as he thought of the young man who was now the Master for the Dark. He had not seen the youth’s underlying weakness, the crack that made a piece of stone worthless for sculpting.

  He’d begun to care about that one, too, and had been betrayed for the worst evil in the universe.

  Now, for whatever reason, he felt a fascination for the Exotique Medica, Bri. He, too, knew her sort—free as the wind, ignoring ties—yet he’d heard the twins were adamant that they must return to the Exotique land because of their parents. That spoke of love and loyalty.

  But he watched the sun send shafts of light onto his work in the city and reclaimed his serenity. He had done his best with Jumme, as he did his best with every responsibility set on his shoulders.

  The town dimmed into the shade of sunset and now the Marshalls’ Castle was lit with gold, a tumble of large blocks. When the sun moved lower and the shade on the Castle and the town moved to dark, he didn’t like the symbolism and turned away.

  As he walked back to the house, he noticed patches of small-leafed groundcover, the green-gray stuff that had begun appearing in the city parks, neighborhood squares and rounds this spring. The flowers were tiny white bells. He stopped. This was new, as were the potatoes that the Exotiques had brought.

  Had the previous Exotiques carried with them seeds of something else? Was this Exotique stuff? He’d read their Lorebooks. Alexa had come from a snowy place, still winter in her land. Marian had arrived nude from her city dwelling. But Calli had been Summoned in full summer, from the outdoors.