“Anything else?” Delgart asked, his eyes still fixed on Marilee.
Blakstar closed his eyes and concentrated again. “It rained after that,” he said, “a sudden, warm downpour that lasted only minutes, but I felt as if all pain and anguish had been washed away, and I no longer felt filthy. I sewed my clothes together using some broken strips of leather lying on the ground beside me, then went and led my horse to the Mountain,” he finished, opening his eyes to look at them; he saw something pass between them, then Marilee’s eyes widened.
“That’s awful!” Marilee exclaimed, still looking at Delgart.
Delgart looked back at her, then got out of his bed on the side closest to her, holding out his left hand. She understood, and reached out with her right hand. Suddenly, the maimed sides of their faces drew together, a scream exploding from both mouths. When the two halves of the sign met and joined, the whole mark flashed an angry red, pulsing in time with their voices, as their screams grew and shrank. Blakstar leaped forward, jerking Delgart away from Marilee, both wethem crashing back onto Delgart’s bed.
“What were you doing?” Blakstar snapped, eyes wide.
Delgart panted. “I guess that answers the question,” he said.
“I think so,” Marilee said weakly.
“Will you two explain?” the kortexi asked, perplexed by their behavior.
“What you said made us wonder if a similar result would occur if we brought our half-marks together,” Delgart said. He looked at Marilee. “Perhaps we should switch places?”
“It seems all right,” she replied, “as long as we are not too close. Just don’t walk on my right side.”
Blakstar stood and walked back to his chair. “Yes,” he agreed, “you two should stay a safe distance from one another.” He thought for a moment. “I think Klaybear said something along those lines when he was telling us what happened in the glade; he brought the mark on his palm into contact with the reflection of the mark on his forehead, when he tried to cool his hand in the stream.”
Blakstar fell silent, withdrawing again into his own thoughts. After a few moments passed, Marilee sobbed again, causing Blakstar to look at her, then look at Delgart. Blakstar looked a question at Delgart, who shook his head and said nothing. Marilee continued to sob softly, face held in her hands. The kortexi turned to Thal, hoping for some response, but saw immediately there would be none. He looked back to the tray, but could not bring himself to eat anything else, or give any more to Thal. Moments dragged by in silence but for Marilee’s soft sobbing. When she stopped suddenly, he looked at her and saw her eyes wet and swollen but her cheeks flushed.
Marilee clutched the blanket covering her. “Why?” she exclaimed. “Why would this happen to us, to me? I haven’t done any more against Gar than anyone else has; why would I be singled out?”
Blakstar shrugged and looked at Thal. “Perhaps he could tell us,” he said.
“Maybe there is no ‘why’,” Delgart said, “maybe we were all in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Marilee shook her head, making her hair fly about. “Maybe that would account for one, or two, but not four of us here in this room today, two others here at this school, maybe others we don’t know about; that’s too many coincidences to believe it accidental. Why us, why here, why now?”
The door opened slowly, and the Headmaster, Myron slipped into the room, closing the door quickly behind him. He tapped the floor with his staff, then looked straight at Marilee. “Because, Marilee, you are the Chosen of the One, those destined to end the rule of Gar.”
“That’s not possible,” Marilee said, a look of horror on her face.
Her declaration caused Thal to stand on his feet. He looked around the room, but did not respond to their looks of concern. He started speaking, to himself at first, but the words soon became audible to the others: “not possible, not possible; it’s not possible; it’s not possible,” and as the phrase grew longer his voice grew louder, until he was shouting, “IT’S NOT POSSIBLE!” He turned and ran from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Myron tried to stop him but failed. He sighed and looked back at the others. “Sir Blakstar,” he began.
“Just ‘Blakstar’ is enough from you, Headmaster,” the kortexi said.
“It is who you are now,” Myron continued, “so you’ll have to get used to it. Have you given Thal some of the Waters?”
Blakstar’s eyes widened, then his face reddened. “No,” he admitted, silently berating himself for not thinking of it.
“We must follow Thal and see where he goes; I have a hunch,” Myron went on, “but we must give him some of the Waters. I think they may be the only thing that will help. You two stay here until we return.”
“What about my brother, Klaybear?” Delgart asked.
“The Council will not meet until the mekala can gather, and it will be several days before that will happen, so there is little you can do,” Myron replied. “Considering how you all have been marked, I think you would do more harm than good if you try to do anything, so stay here for now, out of sight.”
“And Klaybear’s wife, my sister-in-law?” Delgart asked, having trouble with the words.
Myron shook his head. “One of the apprentices said she thinks she saw her leave the school, but we did not find her at her home or traveling in between.” Myron raised a hand to stop Delgart. “You would do more harm than good, leaving this room, since very few of us accept that you are the chosen and not agents of Gar. I’ll make sure that no one but Avril and I can enter.”
Myron looked around after closing the door, then started moving toward the infirmary’s exit. Blakstar followed, taking note of the Headmaster’s caution; he gripped the hilt of his sword.
“Headmaster,” he spoke softly, “where do you think Thal went?”
“The telepad,” Myron replied, “he may try to return to his parents’ tower.” Myron opened a side door, pulling Blakstar quickly through.
“This is not the way we came in,” he said.
“No,” Myron replied. “This way is little used, and will take us to the courtyard less visibly.”
“If he intends to return to the tower, he’ll be gone before we get there,” Blakstar said.
“I think not,” Myron said, leading the kortexi down a series of narrow, twisting corridors, pausing at each turn and doorway to ensure the corridor ahead was empty. “Kalamar’s tower was surrounded by a special, protective field. If anything happened to him and Nelle, that field would become impenetrable for a time, preventing any entry using teka. Thal knows how to open the barriers, knows that he can only do it if he approaches on foot. Trying to go directly by teleportation is not possible, but in his current state of mind, he will not remember.”
“But if he tries, won’t he get trapped in rumepant?”
“Teleportation requires that the maghi, to put it simply, contact the pad to which he or she intends to go. Since that is not possible right now, Thal will be stuck here.” Myron opened a final door and pointed down to the pad and Thal sitting in the center of it.
Blakstar did not hesitate, but strode forward, removing the special flask from his belt. He knelt beside Thal, unstoppered the flask, and put it to his lips, tipping some of the precious fluid into his mouth. Thal drank reflexively, and when he swallowed the Waters of Life, his eyes opened wide and he started to rise. Blakstar put a hand firmly on his shoulder, and whispered to him. “Peace, my friend. The Waters of Life are potent,” he said.
Thal looked into the kortexi’s dark brown eyes, his blue eyes filling with tears. His head fell into his hands; he began to weep. “They are dead,” he sobbed.
The kortexi saw Myron kneel on his other side, putting a hand on the maghi’s other shoulder. “They died defending you and Blakstar, and your home. Their sacrifice makes it possible for us to go on, to keep fighting evil. They were great in life; they have become greater in death. I mourn with you for they have been my dear friends for most of my life.” Myron
looked up at Blakstar. “Help me get him to his feet; let’s get him back to the others where he can mourn his loss in private.”
Chapter 13
There is nothing worse than waiting blind for a battle to begin. . . .
Attributed to Fereghen Wulfrik, ruled 983-1027
Klare frowned as she left the school, unsatisfied by the response of the kailu on duty, who had assured her that there was nothing in the record of anyone entering or leaving the room where her brother-in-law rested last night, or where she had just left her husband and Headmaster Myron; the kailu did say that he would make a thorough check of the records and report to Master Avril anything unusual. Klare pulled her hood over her face, not caring for the way the gate guard leered at her as she passed through the wall surrounding the kailu school; most of the people moving through this quarter of Shigmar were heading toward the school and were the older students who lived in the same quarter of the city as she did, but she kept her face hidden as she passed into the southwest quarter, troubled by the events of the previous day and the morning and not wanting to be detained by anyone. Without really looking where she was going, she allowed her feet to carry her to her home, passing quickly inside without a backward glance and closing the door softly behind her. Inside, Klare went at once to the guest room, and seeing that the awemi still slept peacefully, she moved into the kitchen to prepare him something to eat. A few minutes later, she opened the door carrying a tray.
“Good morning,” Klare said pleasantly.
Tevvy opened his eyes and stretched, looking around at his surroundings. “It is good to be whole,” he noted, smiling at her.
“How do you feel?” Klare asked as she set the tray down on the bedside table.
“Quite good,” Tevvy replied, “you must be the mistress?”
Klare smiled sweetly. “I am Klaybear’s wife, Klarissa, but you can call me Klare,” she replied, her hands glowing green as she moved them over Tevvy from head to toe, examining him. When she came back to his head, she focused for a moment and found something that resisted her, as she had found in Delgart and Marilee, a patch of darkness that refused to be moved; however, given her experience with the others, she did not attempt to draw it out.
“You are also a kailu of Shigmar, I see,” Tevvy noted while Klare worked.
Klare did not reply until she had finished, but then she nodded. “Yes, and you appear to be quite healthy and fully healed.”
“Thank you, mistress,” Tevvy replied. “Where is your husband so I can thank him for rescuing me, although he did frighten me at first,” he went on, conversationally. “Have your masters managed to heal those strange marks?”
Klare paused to look at the awemi for a moment before she helped him to sit up and then placed the tray in front of him. “You haven’t told me your name,” she said.
Tevvy looked suddenly surprised. “My mother would be appalled!” he exclaimed. “I am Telvor ven Galagrude, but I’m usually called Tevvy,” he went on. “My father has a school for, uh, scouts in Rykelle; he and my mother used to help Headmaster Myron and Master Avril when they were all younger. Now that I have graduated from the school, father sent me to Headmaster Myron to aid his apprentices in their work, but I have been unable to get into the school and see the Headmaster: the guards will not let me pass, although I have a letter from my father.”
Klare smiled at him, sitting on the end of the bed. “Eat something,” she exhorted him. “Funny how these things always work out,” she noted softly, almost to herself.
“This smells wonderful,” Tevvy noted, taking up a fork and beginning to eat. He paused when Klare spoke softly to herself. “What do you mean?” he asked, then took a bite of the eggs.
“You have been unable to see the Headmaster,” Klare replied, “and who should rescue you, but the Headmaster’s senior apprentice.”
Tevvy paused again. “Master Klaybear is the Headmaster’s apprentice?” he asked, looking slightly surprised.
Klare nodded. “One of them,” she admitted, “and the most senior of his apprentices. To answer your other questions, no, they have not been able to heal my husband, and I am troubled by the fact, and what we found,” she frowned, looking troubled.
“Anything I can do to help?” Tevvy asked. “It is the least I can do for what you both have done for me, and for helping me to see the Headmaster,” he added, grinning impishly, which made him appear to Klare like a naughty child; this look caused Klare to laugh.
“I don’t know how you can help, Tevvy,” Klare replied, “because I don’t really know what a scout is, beyond the scout of a seklesi patrol, but I sense that you mean something different.”
“Well,” Tevvy began, “we are similar to the scouts in a seklesi patrol. In fact, we spend several months actually working in the field with a seklesi patrol; I was fortunate to have served with your brother-in-law, Rokwolf, and I’m sorry to hear that he is injured; what happened?”
“No, not Rokwolf,” Klare replied. “He and my husband have an older brother, named Delgart, who was taken in a pirate raid on their village many years ago. He was found yesterday, injured, and was brought here for healing.”
Tevvy nodded. “Anyway, a scout of my kind can do more than the regular scout, since I can also sneak into places that are secure, open locks without the key, find and disable traps. . . .” He would have gone on, but was interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door. Both of them looked toward the sound. “Expecting someone?” Tevvy asked, eyebrows rising.
Klare frowned and got up. “No, no one knows I’m here,” she said as she started to leave, “at least I didn’t think anyone knew.”
“Be careful, Mistress Klare,” Tevvy said, looking worried, “I have a bad feeling about this, and my feelings have never been wrong.”
Klare nodded, gave him a reassuring smile, then left the room. When she opened the front door, she was surprised to see Ghelvon’s apprentice standing there, wiping his face with a green silk handkerchief.
“Malkonik, why are you here?” she asked, trying to cover her surprise.
He smirked and put away his sodden handkerchief. “I have a message from your master,” he said, looking past her into the house.
“You? Why would he send you?” she asked incredulously.
“I was available,” he replied, then fell silent, still smirking.
Klare eyed him, her suspicions aroused. “I don’t believe you,” she said after a moment.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he noted, beginning to turn away. “I’ll go back and tell him.”
“What’s the message?” she snapped, suddenly angry at him and his manner.
He stopped and looked back at her. “He wants you to come at once,” he said, the smirk becoming a grin. “My master just discovered a case of that disease you study.”
She looked at him again for a long moment before answering. “I’ll be there shortly,” she said, “once I finish here.”
“He said I am to bring you now,” he noted, his grin widening to show his teeth.
“Fine,” she said, “wait here.” She closed the door, leaving Malkonik waiting on the porch, and went back to their guest room.
“A messenger from the school,” she said on entering, “I have to go back, but I will return and check on you as soon as I can, at least in time to fix you some lunch, but if not, feel free to eat whatever you can find.”
“Don’t worry,” Tevvy replied, “I was well-instructed by my mother to take care of myself.”
“Rest now,” Klare smiled and turned to leave, “and I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Tevvy touched her arm, his small face wrinkled as he looked up at her. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “Is the messenger someone you can trust?”
The question, and the concern on Tevvy’s face, caused Klare to pause before she replied. “I’m pretty sure I can trust one of my fellow students,” she noted, gently patting Tevvy’s hand, “and we are inside Shigmar; besides, I, too, can take
care of myself,” she added as she left the room.
Klare closed the door to her home and turned to follow Malkonik back to the school.
“You said my master sent you,” Klare noted. “but never explained how he came to select you as a messenger, since you are Master Ghelvon’s apprentice.”
“The case is one of the guards,” Malkonik replied, “and so my master sent me to inform Master Avril, who agreed with my master that I should be sent to you; he said you had been studying this particular disease, and that I should come and get you at once, since my master told him that the disease was in its first stages,” he finished, taking out and mopping his brow with his green silk handkerchief.
Klare watched Malkonik while he spoke, taking note of the way his eyes kept glancing at her and then looking away. Klare stopped suddenly. “Is this another one of your games?” she asked when he stopped and turned.
Malkonik looked at her blankly, the grin sliding off his face. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, again taking out the green silk handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his brow.
Klare looked at him a moment, noticing his action and look. “Have you forgotten that I am happily married?”
Malkonik’s eyes widened, and then he laughed. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked. “Of course I haven’t forgotten, but you are still arrogant enough to think that I, like the others, still desire you: I came as a messenger, nothing more. If you want to study this case, then come with me; otherwise, I will return and inform your master that you were unwilling to go with me and why!” He turned and walked on.
Klare watched Ghelvon’s apprentice walk away before following, pondering what he had told her; she moved after him, following him into the southern quarter of Shigmar, but stopped when Malkonik turned north instead of entering the school grounds.
“Where are you going?” Klare called to him. “The school is that way,” she added, pointing toward the wall and gate.
The Redemption, Volume 1 Page 20
