Sorceress of Faith

by Robin D. Owens

  Jaquar looked surprised. “Indeed.”

  Marian’s stomach churned. Tests ahead. She wished she hadn’t known, and wondered if there was any mention of Testing for Scholar in her books upstairs—if she could find the notes and prepare somehow.

  “Come upstairs to my suite,” Bossgond said silkily, like a spider to a fly.

  Jaquar eyed him warily. “Why?”

  Bossgond snorted. “Because I want to speak to you alone.”

  Marian gripped the back of the chair. “You could talk to him here.”

  Waving her suggestion away with an impatient hand, Bossgond threw them both an admonishing look and started up the stairs. “Come, Jaquar.”

  The younger man made a half bow to Marian, then followed Bossgond.

  Bossgond’s voice floated down. “Marian, I want you to rearrange the western coastline of your continent in your planet ball, generate a force-three storm, then bring the sphere upstairs to us. Jaquar should see the results of your lessons with me and your level of expertise.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. He’d just assigned her two huge tasks and expected them to be carried out quickly! More, she would have to gather the storm, then hold it as she walked from her rooms to his. She calculated—it was a trip up twenty stairs. If she took it slow and breathed properly she might be able to do it.

  “Oh, and we will be talking in the ritual room at the top of the Tower,” Bossgond said.

  Her hands fisted. She couldn’t make another twenty stairs, a full two stories, could she?

  She heard Jaquar’s grunt of surprise. Something in the sound sent adrenaline coursing through her and she set her teeth. She didn’t have any time to waste. Everything she had must be focused on her task.

  She didn’t want to fail the old Circlet. More, she didn’t want to fail in front of Jaquar. A woman had her pride. Even though she’d been here only two and a half weeks, she refused to fail.

  For a moment she just stood, jaw clenched, then she heard a scrabbling noise and found Tuck sitting on his fat rump on her desk. He stared at her with wide black eyes, his paws clasped together. “I will help!”

  She deliberately relaxed her mouth, rolled her shoulders and eyed him. No doubt many people would dismiss the aid of a small rodent, no matter how magical, but Marian just nodded gravely. “Thank you.” Who knew what an animal who ate an atomball could do? Best to stretch his abilities as much as her own. Her pulse jumped at the thought that he might not want to return to Earth with her—something she didn’t want to think about, couldn’t think about, right now.

  Walking over to her desk chair, she settled into the fat cushion that was beginning to take on her form. She looked at Tuck. “How do you want to help?”

  He chittered a few seconds—his thinking sound, she’d learned—then said, “I will keep you calm.”

  “Keeping my hands from shaking as we take the terrarium up to Bossgond will be a great help. Thank you.”

  His nose wiggled. “I need food,” he squeaked slyly.

  With a chuckle she scooped him up, rubbed him against her cheek, then set him carefully down. “Come back to the desk when you’re done eating,” she said absently, already focused on the planet globe, parting the clouds to see the coastline. She took a moment to loosen her muscles, inhaled deeply and placed her hands on each side of the two-foot terrarium.

  Frowning, she nibbled her lower lip as she considered how extreme the alteration to the coast should be—or rather, how little alteration she could do that would be acceptable to Bossgond. The real test was gathering the storm and holding it so it didn’t break apart or go inland before she reached the two Sorcerers.

  From what she’d experienced on Lladrana, equality of the sexes was close, but some men would always innately believe that strength made them superior to women.

  Not Bossgond. He was an intellectual snob. As long as a person had Power, they were respected.

  Jaquar intimidated her because he was a Circlet, intelligent, handsome…and very attractive.

  There was that warning she’d received when they’d first touched. Perhaps she could recall the brief vision if she touched him again….

  “Four minutes, Marian,” Bossgond said through the speaking tube.

  Marian jolted—stared down at the west coast of the continent in her terrarium. Concentrating, she delicately warmed the globe, causing the polar ice cap to melt. It took time and mental effort, but better that she be late arriving than not get her project done.

  Melting the ice cap raised the water level of the ocean and changed all the coastlines of her continent, but she was following the rules. As she watched the ice liquefy, she let out a slow and steady breath, blowing at the terrarium. She used this to symbolize a rising wind—energy she sent to stir the air and whip up the seas until a force-three storm whirled in the ocean, sucking in clouds and water.

  She moved a little faster and harder than she’d thought, and the storm whirled apart. Teeth clamped again, she struggled to keep the energy steady, growing, spinning the storm off the coast.

  A few seconds later she heard a squeak and automatically angled her foot and leg so Tuck would have easy climbing. He hurried up her gown to her shoulder, then placed a tiny, clawed paw on her neck. The paw was cold.

  But it calmed her. Since most of her mind was engaged in her task, she didn’t hold back when Tuck’s energy touched hers—a burst of light on her shoulder, stronger than she’d expected, a tiny rush of tuneful notes.

  “Sinafin is teaching me,” he said.

  Her attention almost wandered. She kept it steady, forced extraneous thoughts from her mind.

  “She says when you raise your Tower, I might become a feycoocu.”

  No! Marian would not listen. “Are you trying to distract me?”

  He squeaked a chuckle. “Payback for all those times I rattled in my cage and needed food and you were studying.” He sniffed, then licked a drop of sweat that had beaded around her hairline.

  “Time to go,” she said.

  Slowly, slowly she stood, lifted the planet globe.

  It tipped.

  She righted it, expelled a shaky breath. Dropping it would be disastrous.

  With tiny, cautious steps, mind on holding the storm, tension settling between her shoulders, she moved from the desk to the door. And stopped.

  She’d have to separate some energy from the storm to open the door latch, or shift the globe to lie along an arm, use her left fingers to push the latch…

  “I will open the door,” said Tuck.

  It flew open and slammed against the hall wall. His whole little body felt warm—with embarrassment?

  “Thanks,” Marian croaked.

  Male shouts came from above. Jaquar’s “No, I won’t!” startled her, and the planet globe joggled. Marian gasped, struggled to keep the storm steady. She pursed her lips in irritation that the men couldn’t leave her to do her work in peace.

  Her head ached as she climbed the stairs; her arms tensed with the strain. The forty steps seemed interminable, draining. Her whole body trembled and she panted by the time she reached the ritual room.

  Again Tuck handled the door. The harp strings sang, the latch slowly compressed, the door inched open.

  When it was wide enough for her to walk through—a graceful glide was beyond her—she carried the terrarium in, looking only at her planet, ignoring the men except as shadowed bulks she had to negotiate around to reach a waist-high table near the pentagram rug.

  “Let the storm go, Marian, but no destruction to the land or trees.”

  That would mean keeping the Wind and Lightning in the sky or moving the storm farther out to the sea. Marian clenched her fingers around the glass. Sweat trickled from her temple and was absorbed by her hair.

  She couldn’t do it. She was going to fail. The storm started slipping from her grasp, moved quickly inland, and lightning struck just outside the city in forks that would soon ignite trees—her anxiety fueled the storm. If she w
asn’t careful, there’d be an earthquake, tornado and tidal wave. Heat crawled up her face.

  Her neck strained as she angled her head to focus on the planet ball. For an instant, she thought she’d grabbed control. Then the outside of the city went up in flames, and a few seconds later the tidal wave put out the fire.

  “Very impressive,” Jaquar said.

  She bit her lip. She wanted to shut her eyes, or cry, or scream. Maybe even all three.

  Gasping in a breath, she relaxed her hard, frozen grip on the glass, finger by finger, cleared her mind of outside distractions and sent calm through herself and the ball. The damage had been done. She’d averted an earthquake, but the city model was in ruins.

  As far as she was concerned it had been a pop quiz, and she hated those. She’d had no time to prepare. If she’d known in advance, she could have practiced. The wind peaked again and she forced her thoughts away from self-recrimination to slowly heat the land and dry it.

  “Now restore the coastline to its previous form that you showed me this morning,” Bossgond ordered in a steely voice.

  She almost lifted her eyes to stare at him. He must be kidding—or she wished he was. But his energy beating at her was stern, forceful.

  She had no energy to do the task he required. Another failure loomed. Her dress stuck to her, then released the scent of fresh flowers, and she flushed again—they knew she sweated. She snatched at the heat of her body for energy and re-formed a third of her coastline.

  Now she was cold, her knees trembling. She’d fall down soon.

  “Sunlight,” squeaked Tuck in her ear. His fur was warm by her neck. He was the best male in the room, no question.

  Good idea. She lifted the globe and paced to a patch of sunlight slanting through a tower window. The warmth felt good on her back, more, it gave her energy. She thought she could feel it sifting through the ends of her hair.

  Collecting threads of Power from the sun’s warmth, the light that surrounded her, she visualized the strands braiding into a rope. A link from the sun through her, to her hands, to energy forming inside the planet ball.

  She hummed low, under her breath, then a little louder as Power crackled between her hands, became a pressurized force that reclaimed land from the ocean, solidified it, carved it into its former configurations.

  Again her dress released fragrance, but Marian barely noticed it. She was concentrating on her world, the eastern coast of her continent. She sculpted a cliff here in the north, making it more sheer, a rocky outcropping appeared in the south. She re-formed the caves and arches she’d enjoyed creating—why had she done that? It was fierce, intricate work. Finally the last rock jutted from the sea.

  With the realization that she was through, her hands turned slippery, weakness threatened. She couldn’t drop the sphere! No! Hastily she tottered back toward the table to put the terrarium on it. The glass slid from her hands and landed with a clank. But nothing worse happened.

  She let her knees fold and she sank to the floor. Not caring about appearances, she wiped her sleeve across her forehead. Only then did she turn to look at the men.

  They were inspecting her planet.

  “What say you, Circlet Jaquar?” Bossgond’s voice held a note of challenge.

  “It’s a little too pretty. Obviously made by a woman,” Jaquar said.

  Tuck ran down her gown to her lap, down her dress to the floor, crossed to the table and swarmed up the carved leg. From there he jumped for Jaquar’s hand and hung on with all four teeth.

  “Yow!” Jaquar shook his hand. Tuck bit deeper, then was thrown off.

  Marian instinctively reached out—a small ball of golden yellow coalesced around Tuck and brought him to her. She held him in one palm and stroked him with an index finger.

  “How dare you hurt my friend!”

  Jaquar smoldered at her. “Whatever it is, it attacked me.” He fashioned a bandage around his hand. “Bad bite.”

  “Rodent teeth are quite sharp. They grow continually, you know.”

  Jaquar’s eyes flashed with pain and anger as he turned to her. He swore hot and long, but since Marian didn’t know any of the words except merde, she just smiled blandly.

  “What is that thing?” asked Jaquar.

  She lifted Tuck and stroked her cheek with his small body. “He is my friend.”

  Jaquar snorted, narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought it had the brain power to understand me—but it did, didn’t it? It’s sentient, and has the beginnings of a personal Song.”

  “Tuck—that’s his name—ate an atomball.”

  Jaquar’s eyes rounded, his stare fixed on the hamster. “Remarkable,” he murmured.

  “Let us return to the point, Circlet Jaquar. Do you agree that Apprentice Marian has passed her Testing to become of Scholar status?”

  Shaking his head, Jaquar tapped the glass. “She didn’t make Circlet level. Her control was poor.”

  “But she did succeed in her Tests to name her a Scholar.”

  Jaquar sent her and Tuck a hard gaze, cradled his hand. “It’s only been a little over two weeks since she arrived!”

  “Time is not relevant. Power and mastery of her art is. She passed the Scholar Tests.”

  “Yes,” Jaquar agreed reluctantly. “She is no longer a mere Apprentice.”

  Giddy delight filled her and Marian was glad she was sitting. Her muscles were relaxing so much that she might flop to the ground. That would not be very graceful, but she was so happy, she didn’t care.

  Bossgond inclined his head to Jaquar. “We agree she is of Scholar status, then.” Her teacher looked down at her. He was a short man, but seemed to loom over her. “Marian, you will go to the hot spring baths in the lowest level of the Tower and cleanse yourself while I prepare the Ritual from Apprentice to Scholar.”

  She stared. Tuck ran from her hands up to her shoulder, then said, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” He patted her face with tiny claw-tipped paws that snapped her from her amazement. She blinked, nodded and rose stiffly to her feet. Tuck hung on to her gown.

  Hesitating at the door, she looked back at the men. Bossgond was placing a light wooden altar in the center of the star, intent upon his work. Jaquar met her gaze from under lowered brows, his blue eyes brilliant. From the tune linking them, she sensed frustration, but pride in her, a touch of incredulity that she’d already become a Scholar.

  She dipped a half curtsy and left the ritual room, then hurried to her own chambers where she took a towel, her favorite soap that smelled of lavender, and a clean gown and underwear to put on. When Alexa had offered to have someone make bras and panties for Marian, she’d jumped at the offer and the garments had arrived a few days later. Now Marian had enough underthings to last out her stay. She kept the bras just in case her magical robes failed.

  Though she yearned for a long soak in the hottest pool, to reflect on her Tests and what she should have done better, Marian bathed quickly but thoroughly in the coolest pool—she had no wish to appear lobster-red before the men—and dried and dressed in panties and robe. She was pleased that she wasn’t out of breath by the time she climbed the five stories.

  The room was lit by indirect sunlight and candles when she entered. Bossgond stood in the top point of the star, wearing a golden robe that matched his hair. Jaquar stood to the south, between the two lower star-points, and had changed into a maroon robe. Both robes were tied with belts of string and had no ornamentation. They both wore embossed golden circlets around their foreheads.

  Bossgond bowed to Marian, Jaquar did the same. With a dull, silver-handled knife, Bossgond indicated to Marian that she should stand at the left point of the star, the east.

  The incense was strong, and mixed with her triumph and relief and exhilaration. She was giddy. Giggles caught in her throat. She’d done it! She’d passed her Apprentice tests and become a Scholar, on her way to being a Circlet. She felt prouder than if she’d aced her doctoral dissertation. She wondered if she’d get
a robe with a hood—Marian shook the fuzzy thoughts away. She swayed. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at the scented smoke filling the ritual room. Was that what made her feel dizzy? Blinking hard, she turned her head to Bossgond. He stared at her with an avuncular expression.

  She glanced at Jaquar. His eyelids were lowered so that only a deep-blue glint showed. A flush showed under his skin, and his mouth curved. He looked as if he was admiring her.

  Tuck squeaked loudly in her ear. His claws dug into her neck and the sharp pain focused reality around her.

  “She is here, she is here, she is here!” Tuck’s high, piping voice hurt Marian’s ears.

  A neon-purple bat swooped through the window.

  Marian blinked.

  It hadn’t swooped through an open window.

  The bat zoomed around the Tower room, dizzying Marian again. She couldn’t watch.

  Very good, Sinafin broadcast mentally. Everyone turned to her. The magical shapechanger stood by the planet globe in fairy form. Leaning toward it, she stared inside and nodded. Very good, indeed.

  “You are here!” Tuck hopped up and down on Marian’s shoulder.

  Vaguely she recalled that he’d said something about becoming a feycoocu like Sinafin. Marian wanted to lift her hand to him, catch him close to her heart and keep him, protect him from any major change. Any further major change. But her limbs were too heavy. Was it the incense?

  She stared fixedly at Sinafin, seeing a huge golden aura surround the fairy, mirrored in small glitters that floated in the air of the chamber.

  Sinafin flew from the table to perch on Marian’s other shoulder. She was lighter than Tuck. The hamster scrambled around her neck to meet the fairy.

  Turning her head, Marian watched as Tuck held up bloody paws to Sinafin.

  You have blooded the new Sorceress. Good, Sinafin said approvingly. Dipping her head, the fairy lapped blood from Tuck’s paws. He did the same.

  Blood. Her blood, Marian thought. Eeeew.

  13

  Sinafin sent mentally, Bossgond and Jaquar, let us proceed with the ceremony raising Marian from Apprentice to Scholar. I will witness for the Marshalls, since Marian will be working closely with Exotique Alexa.