Shinobu noticed a figure moving in an upstairs bedroom. It was the girl in question. Alice. He could see the top of her head near the window.
“Not sure,” he said, and shrugged. “She seems to like me. She let me kiss her.”
“Did she? Was it nice?”
“It was.” Shinobu smiled again. As if there could be any question that kissing girls was nice.
“Look around the town a moment, Son. Please. Look at the houses, the people, the life they have. Once you become a Seeker, once you take your oath, you won’t see the world in the same way.”
Shinobu glanced around, amused with his father—he had seldom heard the man string this many sentences together at once—but also confused. “Dad, I don’t know what you mean. My whole life, Quin and I have—”
“I know. And I know what you feel for Quin.”
Shinobu felt his face flushing, and he looked away. He could speak freely about any girl…except that one.
“She’s my cousin,” he murmured.
“Cousins” was the word they had grown up using, though their blood relationship was not nearly as close as that. Alistair and Fiona were second cousins, which made Quin and Shinobu third cousins. And somewhere, many generations earlier, an ancestor had remarried, which meant they were only half as related as they seemed. Shinobu had made as careful a study of their connection as he could without calling attention to his interest. Nevertheless, Quin always called Alistair her uncle and Shinobu her cousin, which made him unlovable except as a family member. And though she thought he was “beautiful”—her word; he’d heard her use it—his beauty to her was like the beauty in a painting, something you admire but do not want to touch. It was the worst kind of beauty, he thought.
“Aye, she’s your cousin,” Alistair agreed softly, “and more. You’ve trained together since you were small. You won’t want to leave her. But”—he glanced through an opening between the curtains at the people inside the house—“there’s a girl in there who seems to like you. I want you to know, you could stay here if you wanted. You could stay, and I would go. I wouldn’t take it amiss. Briac might take it amiss, but I would deal with that. It’s your choice.”
Alistair’s eyes were pleading. Shinobu had never seen that look on his father’s face before. It made him uneasy, as though the ground beneath his feet were subtly shifting.
“Da, please tell me why you’re saying this.”
“I can’t,” he answered. “I’ve sworn my own oath.” His eyes were locked on Shinobu’s, as if willing his son to read his mind. “But know: if you choose to come back to the estate with me, life will be different. You might love a woman as I love your mother”—Shinobu noticed he used the present tense, and wondered how drunk Alistair was—“but she will never know all of you.”
This evening was supposed to be a celebration, but Shinobu felt his discomfort growing under his father’s searching look. Why couldn’t the big man break the tension with a giant belch or by peeing on someone’s doorstep? But there was no sign of amusement in his father’s face.
Shinobu decided the awkwardness would remain until he took his father seriously. He stepped back from the house, moving to the middle of the street so he could see Alice in her upstairs bedroom more clearly. She was bent over a desk, doing homework, maybe. She was a pretty girl, and nice, and she loved when Shinobu gave her attention. She said she had never met anyone like him, that no “gorgeous boy” had ever wanted to talk to her before.
Alistair was right. The world was full of people, and maybe a lot of them were happy. Certainly a lot of them were girls, and if he wanted, it would be easy to find the funniest, the prettiest, the happiest, and convince her to fall in love with him. But where would that leave him? Empty, he thought. There was one girl, the girl he had grown up with. Perhaps she would never love him like that, but already they shared a life, and a purpose. They would be like the Seekers of old, their skills and their good works becoming the stuff of legends. Tyrants beware, as the ancient Seekers had said. Shinobu and Quin would protect good people from harm. He could never leave that behind.
He turned and put his hands on Alistair’s arms. “Thank you, Father. I’ve made my choice. I want to go home.”
Shinobu was sure he was seeing a trick of the light, the dim and flickering streetlamp nearest them, because it looked for a moment as though Alistair was about to cry. Then his face cleared, and he nodded very gravely, as if the most important thing in the world had just been decided.
“Well then, my boy, let’s get back home.”
The day had been warm, but there was a deep chill in the night air as Quin followed her father along the path through the woods. They were finding their way by a trickle of moonlight that outlined the dark branches above them and gave shape to the small forest path.
There were owls in the woods, awake now and hunting. In the distance, as always, she could hear the faint sound of the river, curving along the point where the ruined castle lay, rolling around and down to the flatter land beyond their pastures and then moving on, to the distant loch and the sea.
She felt the forest floor through her shoes, soft, welcoming. She felt the night air on her hands and face. But there was more than that. She could feel the whole estate, the whole forest, the whole of Scotland. She was as big as all these things. She had worked half her life for this night. Everything she’d learned, all her training, had been leading her here. In a short time, she would take her oath, as so many generations of her family had done before her.
Though her father would never answer any questions about what she would do once she’d taken her oath, her head was filled with the old lore. Alistair had been a great one for telling stories, and as children, she and Shinobu had sat by the hearth on cold, dark nights as he’d regaled them with tales of Seekers who had toppled tyrant kings, Seekers who had freed ancient lands of terrible criminals, Seekers who had righted all manner of wrongs across Europe and elsewhere. She’d grown up knowing she was part of this ancient tradition.
Now she could see flames up ahead, a small fire in a clearing deep in the woods. Her father’s shape as he walked ahead of her was more distinct now, his broad shoulders defined by the orange glow of that fire.
Soon they emerged from the path into the open space. There was a tall standing stone in the middle of the clearing, covered with lichen and moss. That stone had been here before the ruined castle was built. It was from a time when the land had belonged to the Druids. Her father said their most distant ancestors had been Druids. Her family had been here that long.
In front of the standing stone, the fire burned brightly. Shinobu and Alistair were already there, as were the two Dreads. Quin had known there was no chance of John being with them this evening. Even if Briac was continuing John’s training—which of course he must be—John still had many things to learn before taking his oath. Even so, Quin’s heart sank at his absence. Some part of her had hoped for years that he would take this step alongside her and Shinobu. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. John will finish his training soon and follow us.
As Quin neared the group, she saw they were all dressed as she was, in simple black clothing, with leather armor over their chests and leather helmets. Despite their similar attire, the Dreads gave the appearance of belonging to another time entirely. Their shadowed eyes and motionless expressions made them look fierce and terrible in the firelight. If they were indeed a kind of Seeker judge, they seemed to be cut from an ancient and brutal cloth.
Quin moved to stand by Shinobu, and they glanced at each other. His hair was tucked inside his helmet, as hers was, and his dark eyes were in shadow, but she could tell he was working hard not to smile. His body was drawn up to its full height, as though his feet were about to leave the ground. She felt the same sense of anticipation and excitement. They nodded slightly to each other and knew without speaking that they were both thinking the same thing: This is it.
What would they be asked to do? Quin wondered. What
was the modern equivalent of the great deeds they had heard about as children? Certainly they would start small, with minor heroics. Wasn’t the world full of injustice? Surely there were countless small acts of bravery they could perform to help.
The Young Dread stirred the fire with those stately movements of hers, bringing the embers closer together and adding more wood above them. Then she took a long slender metal rod and placed the tip of it among the coals. Quin exhaled slowly. That piece of metal would be the final part of tonight’s ceremony. She reached out and tugged on Shinobu’s sleeve in a gesture of camaraderie. He responded by squeezing her hand. Then both watched the metal rod in the fire, waves of heat rising above it.
“Now we begin,” Briac said, in a voice that was not loud but still commanding. The two Dreads stood up from the fire and faced the other four. Shinobu and Quin turned toward their fathers.
Alistair stood by a large wooden chest that he had carried to the clearing. After throwing this trunk open, he began to draw out their weapons. He tossed her and Shinobu their whipswords. Until now, these had been kept locked in the training barn; from this moment forward, the whipswords would be theirs to keep. He threw them knives and daggers as well, then took some for himself.
Alistair flipped up a shelf within the trunk and exposed another layer of weapons. He pulled out several, which he laid on the forest floor. In the firelight Quin saw that they were modern guns.
Guns? She glanced at Shinobu, who was equally surprised. Of course they had trained with guns. They’d trained with almost every sort of weapon. Yet these were not the proper arms of a Seeker.
She watched Briac select two pistols and secure them in holsters so cleverly concealed among the folds of his clothing and armor that Quin had not noticed them before. Alistair did the same. Then Briac gestured to the apprentices.
“Will you choose any other weapons?”
“Will we need them, sir?” Shinobu asked, finding his voice before Quin could find hers.
“Likely not,” Briac said. “The choice is yours.”
Slowly Quin moved forward and selected a small pistol and holster, which she positioned at her lower back. Shinobu did not take a gun.
Alistair closed the trunk and stood to face them with Briac.
“We are honored tonight by the presence of these two,” Briac said formally, gesturing at the Dreads. He spoke as though he’d carefully memorized his words. “They have come here to witness the last stages of your training. Tonight they will observe the final formalities and administer your oath, if you are successful.”
Quin studied the Dreads again. They were armed already, though not with guns. The Young Dread’s right hand rested near her whipsword and her left near her long dagger. With her hair tucked away, she looked much younger than Quin, which made the blank look she wore disturbing, as though she were a child robbed of her natural emotions. The Big Dread had a very different expression, intense and expectant. Because he held his body so still, Quin had the impression that this was the only look he had ever worn, as if it had been carved into his features at the beginning of time.
“Our respected visitors are armed,” Briac went on, still speaking of the Dreads, “but they will not participate in the next actions unless forced by circumstance. Let us prove our worth by ensuring that does not happen. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed, sir,” Quin and Shinobu said together, though Quin had no idea to what they were agreeing.
“It is time to don our cloaks,” Briac told them.
These were the ritual words. Despite her confusion about the guns, Quin felt her excitement returning.
Briac and Alistair pulled on their own dark cloaks, fastening them about their shoulders. Turning to the apprentices, they placed cloaks around Quin and Shinobu as well. Quin felt the weight of the thick cloth envelop her. She thought, My life is finally about to begin.
Then, with smooth, measured motions, Briac drew an object from within his own cloak. All eyes turned to stare at it.
It was a long dagger made of pale stone.
Quin realized she was holding her breath. The dagger was about a foot long and quite dull, clearly not made for cutting. Its handle was cylindrical, built of several stone discs that had been stacked on top of one another—dials that Quin knew could each be turned independently. The dagger was bathed in the orange light of the fire, which it seemed to drain of color and to magnify, creating a pale light around its blade.
It was called an athame. The tool of the Seeker. John had poked fun at Briac’s description—“the most valuable artifact of mankind”—but there was nothing amusing about the ancient dagger now.
Quin had seen this athame twice before, both times with Shinobu, when they’d done especially well in a practice fight. Both times, they had gotten only a brief glimpse. Now her training with the stone dagger was about to begin. In all of human history, only sworn Seekers had ever used it. It lay at the heart of their power.
“The athame,” Briac recited. “The finder of hidden ways.”
Then, quite unexpectedly, he pulled another object from his cloak. This one was not a dagger, though it was something similar. It was made of the same pale stone, slightly longer than the athame, with a simple handgrip at one end, and a flat, dull, gently curving blade.
Quin and Shinobu glanced at each other in surprise. They had never seen or heard of this object before—Briac had kept it entirely secret, a final mystery before they took their oaths.
“The lightning rod,” Briac intoned. “Companion of the athame, whose touch allows the athame to come to life.” He held the implement up for another moment as they stared at it. Then he asked, “Are your weapons ready?”
A final check of their weapons, and Shinobu, Quin, and Alistair answered as one, “Ready!”
The Dreads did not move or respond. They were simply watching.
Briac slid the lightning rod back into his cloak. Then he adjusted the dials that formed the haft of the athame. Each dial had many faces, and on each face was a symbol. Briac was lining up a specific set of symbols along the handgrip.
“Do not think! Do not hesitate!” commanded Alistair. “Hesitation is the enemy of the Seeker!”
I will not hesitate! I will not hesitate! Quin told herself. She glanced at Shinobu and knew he was repeating the same words in his own mind.
“Prepare yer chants!” called Alistair.
Briac held the athame and lightning rod above his head and struck them together. At the moment of their impact there was a vibration from the athame, low and penetrating. It filled the space around them and grew, resonating throughout the clearing. The stone dagger was coming alive.
Briac moved the athame, directing the vibration. With it, he drew a huge circle in the air before them. And as he drew it, it became not a circle but a circular doorway, a humming hole in the fabric of the world, opening onto blackness beyond.
An anomaly, Quin thought, amazed to see it just as her father had described it. The doorway he had drawn would take them from here to There.
The border of the circle swirled in tendrils of black and white, the ragged edges of the world cut through by the vibrations of the athame. Then the edges tightened into a solid line, framing the gateway and seeming to pulse with energy that flowed inward, toward the blackness beyond.
Quin began her chant, and next to her Shinobu did the same.
“Knowledge of self
Knowledge of home
A clear picture of
Where I came from
Where I will go
And the speed of things between
Will see me safely back.”
One by one, the Seekers and the Dreads moved through the anomaly. Quin was last, stepping over the edge of the opening and into the darkness on the other side. When she had crossed through, she turned. Behind her, the anomaly hummed, and the humming began to lose its rhythm. She could still see the woods and the firelight through that circle. Then, slowly, the tendrils of black and white stre
tched out, shuddered as they grew into each other, and the opening was gone. They were in darkness.
I am a Seeker of the dark and hidden ways between, she thought. Evildoers beware…
She began to feel a strange tug on her mind, almost a relaxing of her mental control, a sensation of time changing, growing longer, slowing down. A sense of eternity washed over her, like the cool waters of a lake. She could imagine losing herself in those waters…
She forced herself to begin her chant again:
“Knowledge of self
Knowledge of home
A clear picture of
Where I came from
Where I will go
And the speed of things between
Will see me safely back.”
The chant brought her back to herself. She was Quin. She was now.
They were There, and the only sounds were of her companions breathing. Very little was visible except for the athame itself, glowing faintly. She could discern, just barely, the shape of her father’s hands upon it, shifting the dials in the haft again, choosing a new set of symbols. And then she heard the athame and lightning rod strike each other. Once again the dagger’s vibration enveloped them all.
In the darkness, she watched the athame making a circular slash, cutting its way from where they were, from no-space, from no-where, from no-when, from between, from There, back into the world.
A new anomaly opened in front of them, a circle framed once more in pulsing tendrils of black and white, but this time the energy of the cut seemed to flow outward, from the darkness into the world. Through the opening was visible a wide expanse of lawn rolling through gardens and down to an enormous manor house in the distance. The house was quiet. It was the middle of the night.
They stepped through the anomaly and onto the grass. Quin watched the doorway behind them lose its stability and collapse in upon itself, the edges growing together in a discordant hum, disappearing. She turned and found Shinobu standing next to her, also watching.
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