Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  Diana, as was the local custom, presented both her palms up. Quietly and formally, she answered, “I am honored in the greeting.”

  Two warm hands lay atop Diana’s and squeezed briefly before parting — a gesture of intimacy. Diana’s dark brows raised and she waited expectantly.

  “You are to be given a Shadow,” Elana responded to the woman’s questioning amarin. “I do not know if they explained to you that it is your choice to name the companion. You need not choose the first presented. If you would rather select another, do so.”

  “I would rather go alone,” Diana admitted cautiously, pulling her cloak around herself again as the wind shifted a bit. “But I’m told this will not be allowed.”

  “Should your Shadow become a burden and not an aid, you would be expected to leave her behind.”

  The mission comes first. Diana didn’t know if that was good or bad, although it would certainly reassure Thomas.

  “Are all Shadows women?” Diana asked abruptly.

  “You will not be given a man,” Elana reassured her, and baffled, Diana wondered just how the woman had known it would be a reassurance.

  “You would be their first choice?”

  Mutely Elana confirmed it with a nod.

  “Have you come to ask that I not choose you?”

  “No.” Her voice was steady, her gaze resting squarely at eye level on the other’s chest. “I would be honored. I would like this challenge, and…,” she hesitated, “…I would like to work with you.”

  “You don’t know me,” Diana said bluntly, and Elana’s startled eyes lifted to dart across the Amazon’s face.

  “I have the Blue Sight,” Elana responded as if to remind her of something.

  “I have noticed your eyes are blue,” Diana said slowly, and then, tentatively, she reached out a hand. The younger woman went completely still as a single finger touched her, gently tipping her face up. But the icy gaze refused contact and rested instead on Diana’s weathered brow.

  “I travel with no one who will not look at me,” Diana threatened softly and suddenly she found she did indeed want to travel with this woman.

  Elana swallowed hard and guardedly lowered her gaze. Amazed by the courage of the Amazon, she tightly concentrated on reading Di’nay’s amarin and wrestled against imposing the thoughts and images that raced through her own mind. And yes, there was courage — Elana grasped — courage mingled with an impenetrable strength. But there was also an uneasiness. Elana understood then that this woman did not know about the Sight and that Di’nay was only aware of some unnamable risk. Quickly Elana blinked and pulled free from the other’s hand; it was too much like reading a diary without permission.

  “The Blue Sight is a gift — or a curse,” Elana began abruptly. “It is a genetic combination that is extremely rare. The strength of the powers vary with individuals, but has always been accompanied by bluish irises.”

  “Hence the name,” Diana nodded. The cultural anthropologist in her was already preparing to sift apart facts and superstitions.

  Elana stepped backwards a few paces, acutely aware of the skepticism that she was striking. “Some generations never see the blue eyes except for those born to the Seers of this Keep. Others may see a dozen or more, although they then come to join us here. I have been told that we are becoming somewhat more common in the last centuries, but just slightly so.”

  Di’nay said nothing, and Elana felt defensive at the silence. A natural reaction, she reminded herself, when someone was standing there judging you. “I can show you something of my own ability,” Elana offered as a way of breaching the growing wariness. “You have a right to know these things before—” She stopped, suddenly remembering who she was speaking to and instead finished quietly, “If you have decided I am unsuitable, do not make me betray my people further.”

  “I haven’t decided anything of the kind,” Diana murmured, and then at the silence offered a formal oath, “In truth, I have not.”

  “I know.” A faint smile touched Elana’s full lips. “I have the Sight.”

  “This tells you if I’m lying?”

  Elana shook her head, her dark hair rustling. “A Seer could tell, but I’ve not been trained as a Seer. I know only your outward amarin. They… it… has little to do with your words.” Elana paused, aware that the tension between them had lessened as Di’nay suspended that skeptical corner within herself. This was not an easily explainable thing; it was more simply an experience. Struggling, she searched for the words to continue. “All things living — or once living — have an essence, an impression.” She faltered, then tried again. “It is like a cloak. It enfolds a person or a… or a plant… all of us.”

  “I understand,” Diana said quickly, and she did. At home the House n’Shea had witch healers who could see the life auras at will and who could touch and mold the flowing energies to repair damaged tissues and blood vessels. This was merely a non-mechanical technology that the Empire had never found the time for.

  “With a person, the thoughts and feelings, they leave patterns. I read these. I see the… emotions.” Elana glanced across the sun-bronzed face again and found the Amazon’s amarin was reassuring. “It is sometimes helpful to know if a stranger is a friend or foe; this I can do. Also, I can change these patterns for a time. In that way I create illusions.” She paused. “I could show you?”

  Diana nodded, but oddly she was thinking of how disconcerting it was going to be to always be looking at the top of that dark head.

  Elana’s concentration dropped to her small, cupped hands. For a moment her gaze intentionally became unfocused. Abruptly — with a whoosh — a flame leapt from her palms and swept around the hollow of her cradled grasp. Elana smiled, feeling an unexpected delight in the Amazon’s amazement.

  Fascinated, the older woman stepped near and cautiously held a hand over the dancing flames. “It’s cool.”

  Elana nodded her faint tip-of-the-head nod and then said, “Now it is hot.”

  She swept her hand through the flames again. Carelessly she passed too close and when Elana pulled the cupped fire away, it was not quickly enough. In pain and angered at her own foolishness, Diana sucked the air in through clenched teeth.

  “I beg your patience, Di’nay,” Elana murmured apologetically.

  “My fault,” Diana said with a strained smile, gripping her wrist. The side of her hand and little finger were scorched pink, and she glanced around. “Is there any water about?”

  “It is only an illusion,” Elana interjected quickly. “Watch.”

  The flames flickered suddenly into empty air, and just as rapidly the reddened skin faded into the familiar weathered brown. Within, Diana’s hand still felt roasted and throbbing, but as she felt this, the evidence of her eyes began to reassert the scrambled neural messages.

  “How long the illusion lasts once I have finished is a trick of the mind,” explained the younger woman gently. “If you concentrated — focused well enough, the skin would not scorch at all.”

  “How is it that it was cool then hot?”

  “As my intentions change, so does the… illusion.”

  “Can you project your intentions into another’s mind then?” “An illusion is my projection onto external things.”

  She had not answered the question, Diana realized immediately. Again she noticed the restless, avoiding gaze. “You can influence another’s mind only by locking eyes, can’t you?”

  Elana grew very still. “It also allows me to — read one’s amarin more clearly.”

  “How clearly?” Elana answered steadily, “Very clearly.”

  It certainly gave Diana something to think about, especially considering she was the spy here — alias Cultural Liaison.

  Elana turned on her heel, her attention rippling outward — startled. Diana watched curiously as she stood there motionless. “I must go,” Elana whispered and glanced upwards at the woman beside her.

  Diana nodded, remembering that she was not to have b
een there at all. She watched as Elana slipped back off into the feathery, leafed trees. There was grace in her fluid motion that reminded Diana of a wild Terran deer. Now where had that thought come from?

  A gravely crunch told her of approaching company. A figure cowled in heavy robes paused at the sight of Diana. The hood was tossed back, and with a voice that crackled with imperious authority, the woman called, “Your Commander would talk with you, Amazon. He awaits you in his shuttlecraft. I wonder, do you mistrust listening walls as much as he?”

  Diana smiled, reminded by this old woman of home and the crone witches in the House n’Shea. With a shrug of her lean frame she stepped forward. “No more than whispering trees.”

  A dry smile passed between them. “I am called Mistress here. I welcome you to this Keep.”

  “I am honored in the greeting. I am — ”

  “N’Athena, or the so-called Southern Trader, Tad Di’nay.” The Old Mistress gave her a speculative glance. “In truth, I’ve seldom thought favorably of off-worlders, Amazon. You and your Sisters, however, have an admirable reputation. I admit I am impressed.” She turned, leaving no room for comment. “This way.”

  Diana followed. Did everyone know of her then? Neither she nor Cleis had ever presumed they warranted more than the passing attentions of the Council of Ten. And the Empire had always harbored the fantasy that their cultural liaisons here were seldom watched and frequently forgotten. Although the Seers that Elana had mentioned as Blue Sights could certainly have supplied a few puzzle pieces, especially if they were as gifted as she suspected Elana to be. Actually, the fact that Elana was not a Seer might indicate she was not skilled enough — or perhaps still too young? Diana grinned wickedly. If she ever told Thomas, it would certainly give him something to fret about.

  † † †

  Elana slid the jerkin on over the tunic with a sigh. Between the black knit underclothes, the thick tunic, and the leather trappings she was almost unbearably hot. But the warmth would be welcomed later when the snows threatened.

  She suppressed another sigh, fastened the belt and stood quietly as the seamstress continued to fuss. “This will do,” Teena nodded, beaming happily. “This will do very nicely.”

  The dividing curtain swished aside to admit the Old Master. Elana turned to face her teacher, standing her tallest as he approached her with a scowl.

  “Too stiff.” She released the taut muscles, losing a fraction of height. “Better. The illusion’s in the confidence, not the bulk.”

  He walked about her, shaking his head, mindful of an obtuse flaw that he was needing to identify. “There!” The back of a finger slapped against the leather belt.

  Teena’s quick hands tugged and loosened the offender, pulling it from Elana’s waist. Puzzled she turned the wide band over, seeking the error.

  “The Amazon wears a soft suede belt,” the old man explained. “I suspect it may encase a hollow tube. It is three finger wide, I believe — ”

  “Less.”

  His bushy brows lifted, but he stared thoughtfully at the belt. He knew by habit not to challenge by meeting those eyes.

  “A lesser width may be best,” Teena said, hastening to bridge the silence. “The Amazon has a much greater stature. The belt would best be made to the Eldest’s proportions. Or the misfitted style may reveal her as an impostor.”

  “Yes, certainly. Tend to it. Is the fit comfortable?” the Old Master asked Elana suddenly.

  It was not what he wanted to know, Elana thought as she nodded slightly.

  The Old Master turned a fretting gaze to his pupil. For a moment he simply stared at her while she calmly rested her eyes on his bony chin. His lips pursed then as he fingered a wispy black wave of her hair. It was decidedly different from the Amazon’s cut. “It perhaps should be shortened,” he suggested, but it was clearly an idea and not an order. “The Amazon wears it close cut as a man traveling would.”

  “It suits her well as guise,” Elana agreed, glad to feel his intentions were not to force an immediate decision. She had a small, vain hope within her heart that Di’nay would approve of her long tresses.

  “Would you pass more as a man with it short, you think?”

  “Most likely not,” she allowed reluctantly. “It would still curl over-much.”

  “Yes,” he grunted, remembering a hearth accident she had suffered as a newly arrived youngster. A kettle of oil for frying bread had spilled and caught fire in the kitchen. The girl’s loose hair had singed and flamed. Thereafter her hair had been cropped close, the resulting tousle of short curls reminding him of the bushy tail of a pripper. It had been an enchanting sight combined with her blue-white eyes but not masculine.

  “You have often said,” Elana reminded him gingerly, “that the disguise is in the bravado. I could never match her height without resorting to my Sight, but at night or from a distance perspective is often blurred. Clad in trousers and a cloak, my hair covered by a hood, I would mislead many.”

  He grunted, pleased with her insight and nodded, sliding his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “So we will let the length be. Also, your lover of women may find it pleasing that you do not look too mannish.”

  “It will be as she requests.” If this Amazon preferred shorter hair, it would be less of a hardship to comply.

  “So, make yourself ready for this formality of choosing.” He startled her from her thoughts and she nodded. It would feel good to remove the warm underclothes.

  “We’ll wait for you in the anteroom. The off-worlders are already in the Hall.”

  As he left her to change she felt the insides of her stomach flutter and her shoulders tensed. Her control clamped down sternly and calmed the tremors. She had the Blue Sight; her wayward anxiety would not be welcomed by the others. Yet beneath the rational wall, her uneasiness persisted. Di’nay had not actually named her as Shadowmate nor promised such naming, although she expected it. Yet afterwards?

  Absently she exchanged the trader’s clothing for her familiar garb, finally facing the issue of what followed if she was chosen. Bonding was simultaneously the goal and the dread of all the trainees. It was painful. But more important, it was the last moment in destiny to question their path. It was their final opportunity to reject the luring seduction of the wanderlust.

  For many it was a time of soul-searching. There were those who had grown old in desire while waiting to be chosen or those who swayed between two mistresses of fate — for these, some withdrew and the task of Shadow was reappointed. Always they would have places in the Keep as teachers or Council advisors, or they were free, as her parents had been, to follow a way separate from the stone walls.

  But for those that remained unswayed, it meant an end to the life — and the rule of the Council and Keep. It meant adventure and commitment with the appointed other. It meant the unknown.

  Elana unrolled the soft suede of her boot as she drew it up and over her calf. She fastened the thongs as her blue gaze unfocused. The vividness of those brown eyes had stared at her for more than two tenmoon seasons now; it had been a haunting that had surged to the intensity of obsession on occasion. And today in the garden they had finally met. Yet as she had stared into that dark gaze to touch that familiar strength so tempered with kindness… she had also found a weariness, a desire for home. A desire that warred with a sense of duty and responsibility towards all life.

  A frown of resolve hardened Elana’s conviction. She would not hold this woman to Aggar by unbidden chains of the lifebond. Di’nay had not requested interference. Inconsiderate ploys of the Fates would not darken the rest of this Amazon’s life — she would not be exiled from her place of birth. Elana would not permit it!

  No! Di’nay’s choice must be freely made. Just as she was now choosing her own path with this Amazon, Di’nay must choose if they were to remain together. She must not be coerced. She would not be told of the fatal consequences of their final parting.

  A faint smile twisted Elana’s lips. Such noble int
entions… the unspoken assumption that she would live to deal with such consequences? The Maltar would chuckle that she, a mere woman of twelve tenmoons, would deem to challenge any of his strongholds with so little concern for the task. Yes, it would amuse him greatly. In truth then, it was better to attend to the coming trials; the future mists would clear at their own leisure.

  † † †

  Chapter Seven

  The Council Speaker and the aged Mistress escorted Diana and Commander Baily along the stone corridors in silence. The upper windows showed that the sun had set in a sparsely clouded sky, and the early moon had already risen high enough to cast her reflected light, sparing Aggar from the fall of dense night. For once Colonel Thomas Baily was appropriately mute.

  The fiasco of naming her Shadowmate had unnerved Diana more than she would admit. Baily’s display of temper at discovering the Council’s three prospects were all women had been singularly insulting to both Diana and their hosts. The sole redeeming grace had been his poor command of the language and only Diana had borne the brunt of his stupidity. The Council Speaker had been unbending, however; these three were the most qualified candidates for this mission, and in the end, necessity had silenced Thomas. But any tolerance for him that Diana had allowed to develop as she anticipated her retirement had been obliterated.

  It made her no less uncomfortable to know that Elana had grasped something of their exchange.

  The procession halted. The wooden bolt lifted easily under the Speaker’s hand, and the four of them entered a small foyer. At the sound of the latch a woman near Diana’s age appeared from behind a curtain. She smiled warmly at the Amazon but extended her hands only to the Mistress. Her sleeveless mantle shimmered over the long gown — a satin mantle. The fabric registered vaguely with Diana; it was a rare material in this region.

  “Your gracious escort is honorably acknowledged,” the woman addressed the men, her words ringing with a ritualistic resonance. “May your parting be without worry and your thoughts of blessing hasten the bonding.”