“Maybe.” Vigorre twisted his hands in his lap. “Or maybe that’s what they want us to think. Evil can pretend to be good in order to achieve its ends.”
“What ends do you think this masquerade would serve, if the creatures are evil?”
“Temptation.” Vigorre stared blindly at the table in front of him. “One of them—the older one, Master Elkan—” He caught his father’s nod from the corner of his eye. “He asked me if I would like to become a wizard like them. He suggested I might be offered a bond with one of their creatures. By the Mother, he said, although I’m sure the Lord of Demons could disguise himself as the Mother if he wanted.”
“What did you say?” Father’s voice was gentle, non-judgmental.
Vigorre shrugged, still not looking directly at him. “What could I say, without revealing what I knew? I said I’d think about it.”
Father spoke even more softly. “Will you?”
Vigorre ducked his head. “I want it so much, Father.” It was a great relief to confess his weakness. “When I saw how they could just stretch out their hands, and gold light would pour out of them, and broken bodies became whole, suffering ceased, lives were saved… I want that power for myself. I feel like I would sell my soul to get it.” He gulped. “I think that’s exactly what they’d ask for.”
Father was silent for a while. Servants cleared away the pastry and set steaming bowls of soup before them. Vigorre found he could sip a little of the rich broth. The warmth slid into his stomach and spread through his limbs.
Finally Father said reflectively, “So you believe the demons would seek out those most strongly devoted to the Mother, those most likely to oppose them, and use our best impulses to ensnare us? They would use our very desire to do good in the Mother’s name as bait?”
“Yes. Exactly. The Mother has given us free will, and they can’t violate that. They can only trick us into choosing them because we want what they offer. But once we willingly subjugate ourselves to them, we become their slaves.”
“And once they’ve removed our opposition, what do you think they will do?” Vigorre couldn’t be sure, but he thought his father’s question was serious, not merely hypothetical.
He lifted his chin. “Conquer Ramunna. Rule it the way they rule Tevenar. Turn people’s hearts away from the Mother.”
“Why would they want that?”
Vigorre balled his fists. “Because they’re demons! They hate the Mother. They want to hurt her any way they can, and what better way than to destroy the children she loves?”
“Hmm.” Father addressed himself to his soup without giving any indication whether he agreed with Vigorre or not. After watching him for a long moment, Vigorre did the same.
Later, after the main course of roast quail and creamed asparagus arrived, Vigorre ventured to speak again. “Keeper Yoran asked me to bring you to meet with him this evening. He has something he wants to show you.”
“Does he, now.” Father put a bite of meat in his mouth and chewed.
Vigorre waited as patiently as he could, but when Father took another bite without saying anything further, he burst out, “Will you come?”
Father chewed and swallowed. After that, he took a sip of wine. Finally he said, “Yes, I think I will. I want to see all the evidence before I make up my mind.”
Tension drained out of Vigorre. His shoulders sagged, and he slumped back in his chair. “Thank you, Father.”
Father smiled at him. “You may want to wait until after the meeting to thank me. I also want to speak with Keeper Yoran, now that you’ve sworn to obey him. You have the right to choose your own path, and I won’t try to stop you. But if you should come to harm while in his service, he’ll answer to me.”
Father’s smile remained pleasant, but his eyes were like ice. Vigorre gaped at him a moment, then ducked his head, a warm rush flooding him.
He pitied any person or demon who tried to come between Father and one of his children.
Ten
Kevessa paced the tiny closet where her captors had imprisoned her. She kicked the thin pallet on the floor, slammed her fist into the solid locked door, and spit into the chamberpot, which stank because no one had bothered to empty it all day. She didn’t know what time it was, but it had been at least an hour since a hulking, silent man had unlocked the door and opened it to allow an equally silent cowering servant to drop a plate on the floor before scurrying out. The plate held a few thin slices of dry meat, a hunk of bread, and some limp carrots. It was the third plate they’d brought her today, so she supposed it was meant to be the evening meal.
Unappealing as the food was, she forced herself to eat it. She might need every bit of energy she could get.
For about the millionth time she broadcast her thoughts as forcefully as she could. Nina?
Once again, there was no reply. They must be keeping the squirrel somewhere far enough away they couldn’t hear each other.
Unless they’d killed her. But Kevessa would know if Nina was dead, wouldn’t she? She tried to remember if Master Elkan had told her anything on the subject. There was something about pain, and a period of unconsciousness, but she wasn’t sure if that applied when a bond was broken by a familiar’s death.
She would know. She’d have to know. And she didn’t, so that meant Nina wasn’t dead. Her captors had told her they’d been ordered to keep the squirrel alive.
The last contact she’d had with her familiar had been late last night. After an interminable time the wagon’s vibration had ceased. For a while all was still, until without warning the trunk lurched up.
Nina, they’re taking me somewhere!
Me too, I think. At least, my box is moving.
Have you been able to chew through it yet?
Not enough. It’s hard wood.
Keep trying. Kevessa braced herself as best she could against the wild swaying motion. Whoever was carrying the trunk wasn’t being very careful.
A pause, a muffled creak, and suddenly she was rocked by a rhythmic series of downward lurches. I think they’re taking me down some stairs.
Nina’s voice was noticeably fainter. It feels like I’m on the wagon again, or another one.
No! They can’t separate us! Kevessa screamed and hurled herself against the side of the trunk. Someone cursed and for a moment she was falling. Then she hit something hard with a thud. Her head slammed into the side of the trunk, and she saw stars.
“No more of that now, unless you want your wee beastie to get uncomfortable.”
“Where are you taking her?” Kevessa shouted. “I demand she stay with me! The Matriarch will make you pay for this!”
“Now why should the Matriarch care about a little girl’s pet?” The muffled voice laughed. “You settle down. We’re almost there.”
Nina? Nina!
For a moment Kevessa thought she felt the faint echo of a reply, but then it was gone.
A few minutes later the trunk dropped with a jarring thump and the lid swung open. Rough hands grabbed Kevessa and thrust her into this cramped room. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at her captors.
When her plate was clean, Kevessa used the dull metal disk to hammer against the door. She raised her voice in the loudest, most piercing scream she could produce. But just as all the other times she’d tried to attract attention, there was no response. Early that morning she’d heard some kind of activity above and made a determined effort to create noise. But nothing happened, except that the sounds overhead had eventually stopped.
Kevessa dropped the plate by the door and sank onto her pallet. She should try to sleep, even though the chance she might soon be called on to pour her energy into wizardry seemed slimmer with every passing hour.
Against all expectation she was beginning to feel drowsy when faint footsteps from above jerked her back to full alertness. She grabbed the plate and set up a new clamor.
There was no response. Finally she gave up in despair. She couldn’t hope to sleep now, but she sat on
the pallet and listened as hard as she could.
The door swung open. Two large men in austere Purifier robes stood outside. One looked at her with narrow eyes. “Will you come willingly, or are you going to make us drag you?”
She rose and brushed at her filthy, wrinkled skirts. With as much dignity as she could muster she gave them a regal stare. “Where are you taking me?”
The other man said, “To Keeper Yoran. If you cooperate, you might get a glimpse of that vermin you’re so fond of.”
Kevessa’s heart raced, but she fought to maintain an air of cool detachment. “Very well. Take me to him.”
She strode from her cell. The men gripped her upper arms, but only loosely, and made no attempt to do more than guide her down a corridor and around several corners. When they reached a narrow staircase one went ahead of her and one behind.
At the top they shepherded her through a large, dim, domed space with many rows of hard wooden chairs. A Purifier Temple, she guessed, though she’d never been in one before. One of her escorts opened a door in the far wall, allowing yellow lamplight to spill out. The other urged her through it.
A man sat behind a large wooden desk. He nodded to a chair facing it. “Have a seat, Kevessa Navorre. We have things to discuss.”
She moved beside the chair, but remained standing. Her escorts closed the door and stationed themselves in front of it. “You’re Keeper Yoran Lirolla?” she asked. She’d caught glimpses of the Purifier leader at various public events, but never up close. She studied his deep-set eyes and hawklike nose.
He inclined his head to her. “I am.” He gestured again to the chair.
She seated herself, but kept her back straight and her chin up, meeting Yoran’s eyes with a direct, level gaze. “Keeper Yoran, I insist you release me immediately. You have no right to hold me against my will. And I demand that you return my pet to me.”
Yoran laughed. “You’re not in a position to demand anything, my dear. And let’s dispense with pretenses. I know the squirrel that accompanied you from Tevenar is no pet, but one of the creatures the wizards refer to as ‘familiars.’ I know you are, as they say, ‘bonded’ to it. And further, I know it’s not a squirrel at all, but a demon in animal form, and you are not its master, but its slave.”
She glared at him. “That’s ridiculous.”
He shook his head. “It’s no use trying to keep up the charade. Tonight I’m going to prove once and for all that you and the others are exactly what the holy Yashonna warned us to beware. All Ramunna will rally behind the Purifiers to defeat you. We won’t rest until every demon creature is destroyed and every slave freed.”
She swallowed and shook her head. “You’re wrong. Nina was touched by the Mother. Our bond lets me use the Mother’s power, nothing more.”
His smile was horribly patronizing. “I know you have no choice but to defend the creature. Once it’s dead your thoughts and voice will be your own again. It will no longer be able to force you to spout its lies.”
Kevessa clenched her fists. “I’m not lying! I saw the Mother! I stood before her and talked with her. How can you call yourself her servant when you insist on opposing her will?”
“The Lord of Demons is clever. I’m sure the apparition you saw seemed like the Mother, but you were deceived. All will be made clear to you soon.” He rose. “I’m going to take you to a place that I’ve carefully prepared. The ancient texts give detailed descriptions of the limits of the Mother’s power. If the demons counterfeit it closely, they should be your creature’s limits also. That seems to be the case from what Fiv tells me of your father’s experiments.” He came around the desk. Kevessa rose to face him as he moved to stand directly before her. “If you cooperate, no one will be hurt. Not you, not your father, not even your ‘familiar.’”
“I don’t believe you.” Kevessa gulped. “You said you were going to kill her!”
“Not tonight. Not if you do what I tell you. I’m going to let you see her, even touch her if everything goes as planned.”
A rush of hope made Kevessa’s heart race. “Yes, please. I’ll do whatever you say.” Nothing he might have arranged could stop them if he was foolish enough to allow her and Nina to touch. The Law allowed wizards to kill in self-defense. A tiny flick of power applied to certain blood vessels in his brain, and he’d be dead before he could react.
He smiled serenely and extended his arm. “Come, then. A carriage waits for us.”
Kevessa placed her hands on his arm in precisely the correct position, as formal as if she were being escorted into the Matriarch’s presence. He led her with equal formality out of his office, across the Temple, and out the large front doors. The other two Keepers followed them.
In the dark street outside stood a closed carriage, its curtains drawn. Kevessa climbed the steps and took a seat facing forward. Yoran took the place beside her, and the two guards sat down opposite. The carriage creaked into motion.
No one spoke during the short ride. Kevessa estimated it had been only about ten minutes when the carriage halted and Yoran gestured for the other Keepers to precede them out. She evaluated her chances of breaking away from Yoran and fleeing, but decided she’d never succeed. Besides, she couldn’t give up the chance of being reunited with Nina.
Kevessa?
The voice was so faint Kevessa thought she might have imagined it, but she sent her thoughts eagerly in return. Nina? Is that you?
She strained to make out her familiar’s reply. They’re taking me somewhere again. In a metal box this time. They switched after I almost got out of the wooden one.
I think they’re bringing you to me. Nina’s exultation was sharp in her mind. Don’t resist them. We can figure out how to get away once we’re together.
Yes. The squirrel subsided into watchful waiting, her presence prickling in Kevessa’s mind like sensation returning to a numbed limb.
She was so happy to feel whole again that she experienced only mild apprehension when Yoran led her up a steep flight of stairs. They emerged into a short hallway with several doors. Bright light spilled from under one. Yoran opened it and guided her inside.
A dozen lanterns blazed, making the interior of the small room as bright as day. Two of the walls were blank stone, but the wall to her right held a large open window, covered with dark curtains that moved in the night breeze. The whole wall to her left was shrouded by a much larger curtain of flimsy white fabric.
Yoran took Kevessa to the window. On a small table next to it rested a number of objects, among them a leather case. He opened it and took out two familiar-looking lengths of rolled metal.
As he fitted the long cylinders together he spoke to Kevessa in a conversational tone. “Your father’s invention has become very popular in Ramunna while you were gone. The Matriarch commissioned the manufacture of a large number. Every ship in the Armada has one aboard, and the officers are being trained in their use. Private citizens can purchase them as well, for a price.” He held out the window-glass to Kevessa. She accepted it, trying hard to keep her hands from shaking. She didn’t understand what was going on, but Yoran seemed terribly confident.
Yoran picked up something else from the table. Kevessa studied it, puzzled. A square of thin wood, about a foot on each side, painted white on one side and black on the other. A short handle projected from the middle of one edge. It looked rather like an odd sort of fan, except the craftsmanship was much cruder than the elegant fans sold to ladies of the aristocracy.
Yoran drew back the curtain. He held the fan up before the window and flipped it so that first the white side showed, then the black, over and over again in an irregular pattern.
Just as Kevessa was deciding the man must be totally insane, he pointed out the window. “I’m signaling one of my colleagues, using a variation of a code used by ships of the Armada. He’s watching from a room similar to this one about a mile away, and is also equipped with a window-glass. See, there, across the valley? The bright window in the tallest bu
ilding.”
Curious despite herself, Kevessa moved to Yoran’s side and looked where he pointed. Here on the outskirts of Ramunna most of the buildings were dark, what lights there were down at street level. The window Yoran indicated stood out like a star against the mountains in the background.
“I expect you’re sufficiently familiar with the operation of a window-glass to use that one to observe my colleague’s guest. If my signal was interpreted correctly, he’ll be waiting in the window now.”
Heavy dread settled in Kevessa’s chest. She raised the window-glass to her eye. Although the sections slid less smoothly than her father’s finely crafted instrument, the lenses at each end were at least as perfect, for she was able to bring it into focus with only minor adjustments. She scanned until she located the correct window.
Her breath caught, and her hands trembled until she almost lost the place. Gevan stood in the distant window, looking across the city with a desperate, haunted gaze. As she watched, the shadowy figure behind him prodded him. With what looked like a snarled curse, Gevan raised his hands. They were bound at the wrists.
Kevessa lowered the window-glass and stared at Yoran. He smiled at her, clearly pleased with his own cleverness. “It’s my understanding that both the Mother’s power and that provided by the demons can move objects within a range of approximately one thousand feet. Your father and his captor are at least five times that far. We can observe them, and they us, but even if I allow you to make contact with the creature you won’t be able to affect them. Nor stop my colleague from applying persuasive force to your father, should I give the word.” He brandished the signaling device.
Kevessa’s gut clenched. Now she understood how Yoran planned to control of her, even when Nina was back in her arms.
Yoran looked out the window, flipped the signaling device a few times, then lowered it. He picked up a small hourglass from the table, turned it over, and set it back down. “From now until I tell my colleague I’m finished, he’ll look for a signal from me every three minutes. Only he and I know what codes I’ll transmit, and in what order. If he doesn’t receive the proper code from me at the proper time, he has orders to kill Gevan Navorre immediately.”
Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) Page 14
