by Kate Jacoby
It was the pain that sent him to sleep—and the pain that woke him. Aching, blinding pain in every fibre of his body. At least he was still alive.
“Come, Robert, sit up and drink this,” Martha’s lovely face beamed at him, her hand lifted his head. “It will warm you, wake you up properly.”
Liquid poured down his throat and he swallowed greedily. It tasted good. “What is it?”
“Never mind that.” Finnlay appeared behind Martha and Robert pushed himself up. He was lying on the floor of a shack, warmed by a crumbling fire. By the other wall lay Arlie and Micah, tended by Jenn.
“Arlie will be fine, Robert,” Martha smiled, bringing the cup to his lips again. “And Micah will be up and about by morning. He’s got a nasty gash on his head but it will heal. The important thing is that Arlie will live, thanks to you.”
“But we’ve got a problem, Robert,” Finnlay added, dropping his voice. “The storm will die out before morning. We can’t move Arlie that soon and if we stay here, those Guildesmen might find a way to get up this ridge.”
Robert took the cup from Martha and warmed his hands on the smooth pewter. Now it all made sense. “I’m sorry, brother, but even if I were completely fit, I couldn’t hold a mask for a whole day. Nobody could.”
“You’re still not thinking clearly. You don’t need to hold it for a whole day. Just when I sense them coming up the ridge. The point is, they could come at any time. You need to be up and ready if they do.”
Draining his cup, Robert nodded and handed it back to Martha for a refill. “How much time have we got?”
“A couple of hours, perhaps more. I don’t know. The wind has dropped and the rain alone won’t stop them. I’ve scouted the track up the ridge. If we can make it to the first pass before they find us, we’ll be able to hide on the plateau. After that, they won’t want to follow us any more.”
“No.” Robert’s eyes returned to the other side of the shack. Arlie lay propped up against the wall, his severed wrist bound against his chest. His face was pale and although his eyes were a little glazed, he watched Robert with something that resembled expectation.
Even after three years away it didn’t stop.
“Where are the horses?” Robert turned back to Finnlay and finished off his brew.
“There’s a lean-to just outside the door. I’ve dried them off and fed them but I haven’t had time to rub them down properly.”
“Well,” Robert sighed, “help your poor old brother to his feet, Finn. The exercise will warm me up.”
It was warmer in the lean-to than the shack—but six horses will do that, even in a storm. Robert tended to the nearest animal while Finnlay took the last. With every stroke of the brush, Robert’s muscles ached, but as he worked, the pain subsided and eventually disappeared. He was on the third animal before Finnlay spoke.
“That was some effort—what you did with the bridge. I mean, I know you’re the most powerful of us but I’ve never seen you do something that big before. I thought Micah was dead.”
“So did I,” Robert didn’t pause, “and I’d like to take credit for it but it wasn’t me.”
“But—” Finnlay straightened up, utterly confused.
Robert couldn’t help it. “You mean it wasn’t you?”
“Robert, honest, I didn’t touch the bridge ... What are you saying?”
Ducking under the horse’s head, Robert began brushing the other flank. Long even strokes helped organize his thoughts—even though those thoughts dismayed him. “I’m saying that Jenn did it. She has powers—and before you start arguing, think about it. Neither you nor Martha are strong enough for something like that and even if Arlie had been conscious, it would have been beyond him also. We know Micah has no talents—so it has to be Jenn.”
Finnlay’s face drained of colour as the idea sank in. “And I’ll bet she has no idea of what she’s done, either.”
“No.”
There was a brief pause—then a complete change. “She’ll have to be Sealed, Robert. You know what this could mean?” Finnlay was all for going straight back to the shack, but Robert stopped him.
“No.”
“Damn it, Robert!” Finnlay slammed his hand against the frail wooden wall, making the horses jump. “She’ll have to be Sealed—there’s nothing else for it. Don’t pretend you think we can ignore this. She’s strong—very strong. Strong enough to move a bridge that size. Could you have done it?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. The point is, I didn’t.”
“Either way, I’ll have to Seal her.”
“No.”
Finnlay came to a complete halt and stared at Robert. “Are you serious? You really want her to go on unsealed and unprotected? What if she meets Malachi? Without a Seal she’ll have nothing but raw shielding. I don’t care how strong she is, untrained, she’d never avoid detection by the weakest Malachi. Mineah’s breath, Robert, the Enclave itself is a day’s journey from here. The danger ...”
“For pity’s sake, brother, will you please calm down.” Robert sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how you ever made it to Adept status. You have enough trouble controlling your temper, let alone your powers. I didn’t say she wouldn’t be Sealed—but you will not do it, I will. I sincerely doubt there are any Malachi around here. They, more than anyone else, believe the tales of monsters and such which have always been associated with the Goleth, so you can calm down. Of course I have no intention of letting her loose on the countryside without any protection. She, like all of us, needs a Seal to warn her if Malachi approach her.”
“And if you Seal her,” Finnlay added, “she’ll be your candidate and since you’re not a sworn member of the Enclave you’re under no obligation to take her there. She’ll be under your protection alone. She won’t meet others of her kind and won’t join us. Despite the fact that Micah needs medical attention—which he could easily get at the Enclave—you’re still determined not to attend the Gathering, regardless of the circumstances. Is that it?”
“If you like,” Robert nodded wearily. “On the other hand, I could point out that she doesn’t like you very much—a fact for which you only have yourself to blame. And if she doesn’t like you, she’s hardly going to trust you, is she?”
Finnlay’s jaw jutted out in defiance but he didn’t pursue the point. “When will you do it?”
Robert shrugged, “Have you tried Seeking out those Guildesmen yet? Are they on their way up?”
“Last time I tried was just before you woke up. There was no sign of them.”
“Well,” Robert ducked his head out of the lean-to and glanced up at the dark sky, “the rain has stopped. We’ve about an hour before sunrise. I’ll do it now.”
Martha looked up when they got back into the shack. She glanced at Arlie then rose to speak to Robert. “I have to thank you, Robert. If you hadn’t helped us, Arlie would be dead.”
“What happened?” Robert drew her close to the fire and put another damp log on to the flames. “How did they pick you up in the first place?”
“We were waiting for Finnlay. He’d said he might catch up with us in Solmoss. I didn’t realize he’d gone to look for you. There’d been a fever in the village. It had already killed one child and three more were sick. You know what Arlie’s like, he can’t stop himself helping people if he can. So he made up a tonic—nothing more. He gave it to the children and they got a little better. Then those Guildesmen came into the village and started asking questions. They said it was against the law for anyone outside the Guilde to practise healing.”
“What? When did this happen?”
Martha replied. “I don’t know but they were very serious about it. The children were getting better but Arlie refused to leave them. So they arrested him. They didn’t even wait for a judge—they just tied him to the trium and...” her voice trailed off.
Robert nodded. So the Guilde had finally made a move against the Church. They wanted the hospice work out from under Church care. And why? Because any service offered by the G
uilde had to be paid for—and they would have no rivals. At least, not under Vaughn. And Domnhall had been unable to stop them.
What had he come back to?
“Anyway, Robert, I just want to say I’m glad you’re back in Lusara. We were afraid you would never return. As it is, you chose a good moment.”
“Did I?” Robert couldn’t look at her, couldn’t address the unspoken questions in her eyes. Instead he turned his attention back to the most pressing problem. This would have to be handled very delicately.
Jenn was seated beside Micah, spooning broth into his bruised mouth. Robert couldn’t help noticing how small and young she looked—even if she was a little old to be developing her talents for the first time. Usually this sort of thing happened at around ten or twelve or even younger. Jenn would have to be at least sixteen, if not older.
“Well, Micah, you look a little better. How do you feel?”
Micah glanced up, then winced. “Not so bad considering I’m still alive, my lord.”
“You should keep still,” Jenn chided him, bringing another spoon of soup to his mouth. “Eat, you need your strength.”
“Listen to her, Micah,” Finnlay added pointedly, “she knows what she’s talking about.”
Jenn glanced at him quizzically, but it was Micah who asked what he’d meant.
“I can’t really tell you, Micah,” Finnlay shrugged. “I’m not the one who can move bridges.”
“Finnlay,” Robert said wearily.
“My lord?” Micah frowned.
Robert settled on the floor by the fire and sent a warning glance to both Arlie and Martha. She sat beside her husband, taking his good hand in hers. Unlike Finnlay, she seemed to sense the need for quiet.
But Finnlay couldn’t keep silent. “Jenn saved your life, Micah. She pulled that bridge back together long enough to get you to safety—using sorcery!”
“That’s enough, Finn!” Robert snapped, but the damage was done. Over the space of a few seconds, Jenn turned pale and her eyes widened. His brother was ham-fisted and belligerent—and had absolutely no sense of timing. If they weren’t careful, they would scare the poor girl half to death. When would Finn learn that his way was not the only way to do something?
“Me?” Jenn murmured vacantly. “What do you mean—sorcery? I don’t understand...”
Robert shook his head slowly, throwing a searing glance in Finnlay’s direction. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Her hands trembling now, Jenn laid the bowl down on the ground. “You’re accusing me of sorcery? But everybody knows there’s no such thing any more. All the sorcerers were killed off centuries ago. It’s been more than a hundred years since anyone even saw one. How could I...” her voice trailed off as she glanced away. When she turned back, there was a mixture of anger and defiance in her eyes. “You would turn me over to the Guilde after all?”
“By the gods, no!” Robert held up his hands. “I, of all people would never do that.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
Micah eased himself up to half-sit against the wall. “I’d like some more of that broth if you don’t mind.” As Jenn tore her gaze away from Robert, Micah added, “My lord, are you sure about this?”
Robert nodded, emptying his bowl. “I’m afraid so. Jenn, do you know what happened at the bridge?”
She glanced at him, still suspicious. “It was falling. That’s all.”
“What about the moment it moved level again. Do you remember that?”
“I ... remember wishing it would—that’s all, I swear. I just wanted to get Micah to safety. What’s the harm in wishing for something?”
“Aye, what indeed?” Robert almost smiled at the innocent question—but stopped himself in time. Instead, he reached into his bag and brought out a flask of wine. “So you don’t remember doing anything ... more? Anything unusual?”
“Like what?”
“So you just wished the bridge would hold?”
“Yes. Didn’t you?”
Robert glanced at Finnlay who raised his eyebrows and asked, “That’s it? No preparation? No ayarn?”
Robert held up a hand to quieten him. “It seems so. I don’t suppose you’ve ever done anything like that before?”
“All I did was wish the bridge would hold. If that’s a crime then, no. I’ll never do it again.”
This time, Robert did smile. “Oh, I think you will. But have no fear, we won’t be handing you to the Guilde. You see, what you did tonight is, well—here, let me show you.”
Not taking his eyes from her face, he flicked his left wrist in a movement so familiar now he could do it in his sleep. He held up his hand for her to see. “Do you know what this is?”
“It looks like a stone from a river. A white stone,” she replied, edging closer despite her obvious wariness.
“That’s exactly what it is—or rather, what it was. Now, with some help, it has become an ayarn.” He paused. This was the point of no return. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “It is a tool sorcerers use to focus and direct their powers. It can also act as a shield to hide discovery by another sorcerer. It’s nothing special in itself, nothing more than a common stone—but no sorcerer is ever without one.”
Her mouth opened—then snapped shut as the meaning of his words sank in. Abruptly she said, “I don’t believe you. Sorcery doesn’t exist any more. If it did people would know about it—and they don’t. This is just some stupid game.”
Robert shook his head slowly. “Just watch.” He took another deep breath and focused his eyes on the stone. With comfortable familiarity, he reached down deep inside himself to the place where his power dwelt. Raw and formidable, its strength was controlled only by the ayarn—and years of practice. Even now, after all this time, Robert was still awed by the potency of its force, the ease with which he wielded the power. It provided him with his sharpened Senses, the strength to perform the impossible—and more problems than he cared to admit. Nevertheless, he would never choose to be without it. It was too much a part of him, of his soul.
Feeling Jenn’s eyes upon him, Robert pushed the power into action, sent it through the ayarn. As the seconds passed, the firelight died away.
Then—slowly—a tiny blue light appeared in the centre of the stone. At first it grew only gradually, then quicker, until it became a narrow rod rising from his hand. It rose higher and higher until it almost reached the roof and then it suddenly burst, plunging them all into darkness again. There was a breath of wind and the fire sprang to life once more.
Robert looked up from the ayarn and found Jenn staring at him, her eyes open in wonder. “That ... that was sorcery? That’s why you think I moved the bridge? Because you’re a...”
“Exactly.”
She put the pieces together. “That’s how you knew about Arlie’s punishment—because it’s not just a story to you—and that’s why you helped me even when you knew it was the Guilde who were chasing me? Because it was the Guilde who killed the last of the sorcerers.”
She stopped for a second, glancing away. Then her eyes darted back to him. “Is that what happened before you left Lusara? Did the Guilde find out what you are?”
“What?” Robert scrambled to keep up with her but she’d already moved on.
“And you think I am a sorcerer?” She laughed ironically. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how you think I did something to that bridge. Why could it not have been you? Or your brother?”
“Because once you know you have powers, you know when you’re using them. Often the first time comes as a surprise. It did with me—of course, what I did was nowhere as spectacular as what you did today.”
“And you’re sure it was me?”
“Positive.”
She shook her head again and slumped back against the wall. Beside her, Micah companionably reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the idea.”
She turned on him, suddenly suspicious. “Not you, too?”
He
shook his head, “Alas, no. Sometimes I feel quite left out.”
Jenn stared at him for a moment then began laughing again.
“I don’t see what’s so amusing,” Finnlay grunted.
Jenn ignored him. “So I pulled the bridge back long enough to get Micah across?”
“Yes,” Robert replied. “You did it using the same kind of power that my brother and I have. There are not many of us around any more and we like to keep our existence secret—for obvious reasons.”
She thought about that for a moment then, frowning slightly, she moved forward. “And what was that thing you had, that stone? Can I see it?”
Feeling Finnlay’s eyes on him, Robert held it out for her to take a closer look. With any luck, this wouldn’t be too difficult.
Her hand reached out but she paused. “May I touch it?”
“Of course,” he said casually, “it’s just a stone.”
Moving a little closer she said softly, “But how did you make that light? How...” Her fingers hovered above the ayarn and Robert felt a strange tingle in his hand. He frowned, not recognizing the sensation. The tingling intensified as her hand came closer and he was about to say something when she touched it—and a flash of light shot out of his palm throwing him back hard against the wall. For a second he lay there dazed, then everything went black.
“Robert! Robert, can you hear me?”
Grey fog clouded his eyes, a morass of wallowing shadows. He struggled against them, trying to clear his vision. As they gradually subsided he became aware of a searing pain running up his left arm, pounding in his head.
“Robert!”
“Yes ... I hear you ... Finn,” he croaked. Turning his eyes towards the voice, Robert could see the concerned face of his brother and above him the thatched roof of the shack. He pushed himself up and groaned as the throbbing in his head intensified.
“Don’t move.” Finnlay reached over for a water bottle and held it to Robert’s mouth.
The cool liquid was like a balm on his burning throat and he drank greedily. As he handed the bottle back to Finnlay, he turned to the other side of the room. “Jenn,” he said suddenly, moving to get up. “Is she...?” Martha crouched over the girl. “She’s alive. Unconscious, but alive.”
