She turned back to him. “Loremaster Chon is dead?”
“Yes. Apparently killed by the same man that took me, and would have killed me too. The same man who used you. My ancestor, Bothan McFarland.” He took a deep breath. “You know him better as Bodann.”
She didn’t move, but Jason saw a sudden tenseness in the line of her shoulders and neck. “Bodann is one of your kinsmen?” she asked, an edge to her voice.
“Yeah,” he said. “After he found out we were related, he wanted me to join up with him. I was gonna do it too, until I found out he was behind what happened to my dad. When I told him no, he tried to kill me.”
“Yet you live,” Lenai said. “Is your power greater than his?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I haven’t even figured out how to use my power yet, if I even have any. For some reason, the Altered are involved in this whole mess. Nyala stopped Bothan and another Altered she called Regor from killing me. She brought me back here.”
She searched his face, then her gaze dropped to the floor. “Still,” she said, the edge gone from her voice, “if I had chosen another passageway, or if I had returned you to your quarters sooner…”
“You still don’t know what might have happened,” he said. “Listen, I’m not going to accept any apology, because nothing that happened was your fault.” He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. “If you still think you have to make something up to me,” he moved over to the stool and sank down on it, “then tell me who I can trust around here.”
She frowned. “I do not understand.”
“Look, my ancestor may have done some pretty bad things, but he told me stuff that Reyga and your High One held back. He also said things about the Circle that, if true, I can’t agree with. The fact is, I don’t know who’s telling the truth, who I can believe. There’s so much stuff going around in my head that I can barely even think.”
“I see.” She stared at him, secret thoughts lurking behind her dark eyes. Then she said, “I believe I may be able to help you in that respect, Jason Bennett, but you may not like what it will involve.”
*****
The chair slammed against the wall, splinters flying in all directions from the force of the impact. Pieces of wood and ceramic that had once been décor and mugs littered the floor around the chair. Gatlor glared at the wreckage, and then looked around for something else to throw. He had thought the cold rage from the day before was gone, but today, after his discussion with the High One, it filled him again. A knock at the door stopped him before he could find another projectile. Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open.
“Forgive me,” a smooth voice said, “but I sometimes find human rituals confusing. Does destroying your quarters make it easier to accept what happened yesterday?”
He scowled at Seerka as the cat-man stepped into the room. “No, but the punishment I deal out to my belongings does not get passed along to my men.”
Calador ducked into the room. “For which, I am certain, your men are grateful,” he said.
“I am quite certain.” He ground his teeth. “Is there a point to this intrusion, or should I just add you two to the pile?”
“A point?” Seerka asked. “Perhaps it is merely two soldiers checking on their commanding officer.”
“Or perhaps,” Calador added gently, “it is just two men checking on a friend.”
He looked at them without answering as his breathing gradually slowed to a more normal pace. Then he walked over and closed the door behind them.
Still facing the door, he balled his hand into a tight fist and lightly punched the hard wood. “All of the scouting parties were killed,” he said without turning. “All told, almost a thousand men and women were lost yesterday.”
“A terrible thing,” Seerka said.
“War is a terrible thing,” he answered, turning to them. “A terrible thing that destroys even the best of men.”
“All soldiers understand the risks of what they do,” Calador said. “Just as the members of the scouting parties understood the—”
“I have lost men before!” he snapped. “I understand duty and honor and risk as well as any man.” He sat heavily in the chair he had kicked. “But I have never lost so many in such a short time. And never to an enemy who seemed to know my plans as well as I did.”
“Aye,” Seerka said, “that is most disturbing.”
“Which?” he asked bitterly. “That we lost so many, or that we apparently have a spy among us?”
“Both, of course,” Seerka answered. “But only one can we change.”
“Even so,” Calador said, “but only if we can determine who the spy is. Do you have any suspicions?”
He shook his head. “No. It would have to be someone privy to our plans, and I mean all of our plans. That would only be the Circle and my officers.” He stood and began pacing the room. “But I cannot imagine anyone in either of those groups being a traitor.” He kicked a broken mug out of his path.
“Perhaps someone in the Amethyst Order?” Seerka suggested. “They could observe the meetings of the Circle through the eyes of a small animal, perhaps a mouse.”
“That is another possibility,” he agreed, still pacing.
“I do not envy the one who suggests that possibility to Loremaster Delani,” Calador said.
He grunted but didn’t answer. The Amethyst Loremaster would almost certainly see even the mere suggestion as an affront to her and her Order. She handpicked her students, and then only after a series of tests and interviews more rigorous than any other Order.
“Although, if that proves to be the case,” Seerka mused, “the guilty one may need more protection from Loremaster Delani than from you.”
He stopped pacing, thinking again about the men and women whose blood still stained the ground at the edge of the Scorched Plains. He looked at the Ferrin from under lowered brows as the cold invaded his soul once more. “Not by half,” he said in a voice that promised retribution.
Soul Searching
Jason and Lenai sat cross-legged on two cushions she had dropped on the floor. They faced in opposite directions, with his knee by her hip, and her knee by his hip. He felt his pulse quicken as she drew out her dagger and laid it across her lap.
“Before we begin, know this,” she said, holding his eyes with hers. “What we are about to do is Sho tu Ishta, the Ritual of Clarity. For generations, my people have practiced it in time of need. Ordinarily, a Shanthi would do this alone, although in needful circumstances two may perform it together.” Her gaze sharpened. “It is rarely done with those who do not have Shanthi blood in their veins.
“Be warned, Jason Bennett. This ritual will bare your soul. You will find yourself in a place where there are no lies. And because I am the one aiding you, I will be there as well. If I find that you are false and intend ill to Lore’s Haven and Teleria,” she laid her hand on the dagger, “I will end the ritual and kill you immediately.” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. “Knowing this,” she said, “do you still wish to proceed?”
He thought about what she’d said. What did she mean by a place where there are no lies? He didn’t think he had anything to hide, but he also knew he wasn’t exactly a saint. Plus, his feelings about the Circle were confused. What if he found out that his ancestor was right? Or what if she misinterpreted his confusion? If she thought he might go back to Bothan, he doubted he’d get a chance to explain himself.
“What is your answer?”
“What about you?” he asked, to give himself a little more time to think. “Since you’re doing this too, will I see your soul bared?”
For the first time since they’d taken their positions, she looked away. “Yes,” she answered, “my soul will be laid open for you to see as well. There is no way to hide during Sho tu Ishta.”
“So why are you offering to do this? Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but if your people are so private, why open yourself up like this to an outsider
?”
She turned back to him. “I too am uncertain of you,” she said. “In this way, my questions will have answers. If you are false, I will have removed a threat to the people I have sworn, and failed, to protect. This may redeem that failure in some small way. Or, it may be that you are honorable. If that is true, then allowing you to see me as no one else has may serve to redeem my failure to you. I am beset by shame on all sides. By doing this, mayhap I can cleanse some of it from me.”
“So this is just as much for you as for me.”
“Make no mistake, Jason Bennett. If I could fathom another way to accomplish the same ends, I would not offer this. But as this serves both of our purposes, Sho tu Ishta seems a fitting choice.”
“So what should I expect? What will happen?”
“I cannot say. It is different for each person. You will see and experience what is needful for you to find the clarity you seek. You may not like what you see. It can sometimes be a painful experience.”
“Painful?”
“Not bodily pain,” she explained. “Pain of the soul and spirit. The Sho tu Ishta can be harsh. It does not forgive.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Very well. Raise your hand.” She raised hers to show him, holding her upper arm level with the floor and her forearm and hand pointing toward the ceiling. He imitated her position. Then she opened up her hand. He saw her fingers elongate, the folds of skin under the knuckles opening up to reveal sucker-like structures. Before he could react, she grabbed his hand in hers, wrapping her lengthened fingers about his hand. He expected to feel a slimy or sticky sensation from the suckers, but was surprised when they only felt warm.
She dropped a loop of fabric over their clasped hands, letting it fall loosely about their wrists. Then she picked up her dagger and held the blade against her own forearm.
“Move your arm against the dagger so that it is held in place,” she said.
Gingerly, he did as she asked. Once his arm was against the edge of the blade, she let go of the dagger, and pulled the loop of cloth down firmly on their forearms, causing both of their arms to press against the blade.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Since you do not have Shanthi blood, we must share mine,” she said. Before he could protest, she jerked the dagger out.
He winced as the hot bite of the blade opened up his forearm, then gasped at an electric tingle that shot up his arm as her blood mingled with his. He would have pulled away, but her grip and the cloth held his arm solidly in place.
“Close your eyes,” she ordered, “and clear all thoughts from your mind. Think only on my words. You may feel light headed. Do not be afraid.”
As he closed his eyes, she started chanting in her native tongue. He didn’t think he would be able to clear his mind, but as he focused on the strange words, he felt his other thoughts slipping away. Within moments, his entire being rode on the current of words flowing from her lips. He felt as if he was floating up from the floor, buoyed by the rise and fall of her voice. Inside his eyelids, he started seeing swirls of color that reminded him of his arrival. This time, however, he was not afraid.
Then her words sucked the soul from his body.
*****
Sitting high in a tree outside of Lore’s Haven, the fortunewing raised its head. Jason Bennett and the Shanthi girl were joining in some sort of ritual. Perhaps this was the time it had been waiting for. It lifted from its perch and flew to the top of one of the towers of the keep.
Down below, the bird saw one of the humans on the wall glance up and then call to one of the other humans, gesturing toward it. The bird’s name was Crin, and it had never understood why humans acted as they did when they saw him. Crin flapped his wings once and settled his feathers more comfortably. This appeared to agitate the humans even more. Crin ignored them as he turned his attention back to the ritual inside.
*****
Jason found himself on an empty plain, the sky overhead filled with colors swirling wildly in a wind he couldn’t feel. Watching the churning sky made him dizzy so he looked away toward the horizon. There was something standing on the plain in the distance. It was the only thing he could see other than the flat surface on which he stood, so he started walking toward it. Then it occurred to him that he was alone.
“Lenai?” he called. There was no answer, so he kept walking toward the distant object. As he got closer, he realized that it wasn’t one object, but three. Three mirrors stood in a semi-circle on the empty plain. He kept walking until he stood in the middle of them.
The mirror in front of him showed the empty plain behind him, but he was not represented in its reflection. He reached out his hand, thinking perhaps it was a portal rather than a mirror. His fingertips touched a hard, smooth surface. It was a mirror, but one that didn’t acknowledge him.
Looking at the one on his left, he saw himself, a malevolent grin on his face. Every so often, his image laughed silently. Suddenly, it lunged at him. He instinctively stepped back, but the image never left the mirror. When it saw him flinch, it started laughing soundlessly again.
He turned to the mirror on his right. His image there was serene, looking back at him calmly. It smiled and nodded to him, and then resumed its quiet study of him.
This is seriously weird, he thought. He turned back to the center mirror.
“So what now?”
Lenai’s voice answered him. “If you truly seek, you must enter.”
He looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Enter?” he called. “Enter what?”
His question fell into the silence, unanswered. Then the center mirror began to shimmer. Step into the mirror? How was he supposed to do that? He’d just touched it and it was solid. Oh well. With a little shake of his head, he stepped forward…
…and found himself facing Julie Peterson, a girl he’d known in school. She’d been his first kiss, and he’d been hers. It happened at a friend’s party one Saturday night. Now, as if seeing the experience as a passenger, he relived the following Monday.
He watched as she came up to him at his locker at school, all smiles and giggles. She told him how glad she was that he was her first kiss, how much she’d always liked him, and how special he had made her feel. He listened for a few minutes, embarrassed at the glances they were getting from students walking past. Then he blew her off, telling her she was nice and all, but he wasn’t interested in having a girlfriend.
He saw the hurt in her eyes, just for an instant. Then she shrugged and told him she was okay with that. Without waiting for an answer from him, she turned and walked away, pushing through the students crowding the hallway. Shortly afterwards, her family had moved away. He never saw her again.
Then the scene began again, only this time he saw it through Julie’s eyes. He felt her excitement at seeing him in the hallway, felt her relive the kiss in her mind as she approached him. He shared her tingling anticipation of walking hand in hand with him, and going to games and dances with him. For that moment, he was the only boy in the world that mattered, and she could only think about the two of them together.
Then he felt the crushing weight of his callous words as they shattered those feelings. He felt her struggle to put on the same careless expression he had worn, trying to pretend it didn’t matter, when it felt like her world was crumbling.
As she turned away, he came back to himself, shaken by what he’d learned. I was a jerk. They hadn’t spoken again before she moved away, but he’d told himself she was fine. Her pain had been so intense, and he had never given it a second thought.
Without transition, he saw himself arguing with his mother a couple of years later because she wouldn’t let him go to a different party. She was being completely unfair! She acted like he couldn’t take care of himself! What did she know about parties? He heard the angry words that he’d said just before stomping off to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.
Again, the scene replayed,
with him reliving it from his mother’s perspective. He felt her concern and worry for him. She’d been to plenty of parties and knew, just because of who was throwing this one, what to expect. He was surprised at the sadness he felt from her. She wanted to let him do the things he wanted, but knew this party wasn’t a good idea. Even if he didn’t understand her reasons, her responsibility as a parent was to do what was best for him, even when it made him angry with her.
Then, as with Julie, he felt the hurt his words and actions caused her. But even through her pain, he felt her love for him shining through. Her pain was a price she was willing to pay as long as she knew he was safe. She would love him forever, no matter what he might say or do to her.
As the memory faded, he swallowed hard, fighting back tears. Have I always been this selfish? He wanted to apologize, but knew he would never have the chance.
Another scene began. No, not again. I can’t do this. His protests were meaningless, as he relived time after time where he had been in conflict with another. Friends, girlfriends, parents, all were presented to him without mercy, showing him what he’d done, and how his actions and words affected others.
Eventually, the scenes became more recent. He saw his anger with Reyga on the journey to Lore’s Haven; replayed his initial conversation with the High One. He felt again his fury at the Circle for the death of his father, and his rude behavior toward the High One afterwards. He relived his encounters and conversations with his ancestor, and his experiences with Nyala.
In each instance he saw both perspectives. A glaring difference was that in his encounters with the Loremasters, he came to understand that they were dealing with an unknown in him, and the prophecy made them afraid of what he might do.
The ritual showed him that the decisions they made were based solely on their duties to those under their protection. He felt Reyga’s distress at having to withhold information from him, and the High One’s discomfort, even though the High One had truly felt he’d had no other choice. He saw that, no matter how he had acted toward them, they had never acted the same way in return. With the exception of Loremaster Chon, he had always been treated with courtesy and respect, even when he didn’t deserve it. And now Chon’s dead. He hoped that was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence.
From a Far Land Page 24
