When Tuck screeched for attention, Marian walked over to him. He sniffed. She bent down and stroked him with her forefinger. He huffed.
“I thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t go outside,” she said. She couldn’t lose him.
“For one day and night only.” Since his black eyes bulged, they couldn’t slide slyly in her direction, but he tried.
“I see.” She bit her lip. “I was very, very scared when I knew you were outside.”
“Nightsky was with me.”
“Yes, thank you for bringing him with you.”
“We talk. He’s a good vo.” Tuck sat back on his haunches. “I wanted to see the ocean. I heard the ocean.” He opened his mouth and sound of surf—Earth’s waves—rolled out in counterpoint to the island’s. “I never saw the ocean.”
“Oceans are hard to come by in Colorado.”
“I only saw the front yard. It was little.”
“Yes, it was—is.” It was about a three-by-six-foot piece of grass at garden level. Suddenly, with all her heart, she wanted to be back there, back before everything started.
But Tuck twitched his whiskers and rubbed his paws as if dismissing the subject.
Bide well, Exotique, Bastien’s volaran dipped his head at her. Bastien returns.
Trepidation for herself was swallowed by fear for Alexa. “The battle’s over? Is Alexa all right?”
Most live.
Marian winced.
All you know well, live, said the pegasus.
Well, that was good news, though she felt sad for the strangers. She curtsied to the flying horse. “Thank you for that information, and for the excellent ri—flight here.” She thought she was doing well, acting naturally when her head buzzed with options—go and never return, go and heal Andrew and come back, go and bring Andrew back, stay and fight the nest. Surely the cowled figure in her dreams was this evil “master.”
The pegasus looked out to the ocean, then studied his surroundings in all direction. He bowed to her, whinnied and sent mental messages to Nightsky and Jaquar, then took off again, flying inland.
Jaquar glanced at Marian, his hand on Nightsky’s neck. “Nightsky is ready to go. We should leave shortly so I can consult with Bossgond and return before the evening meal.” He scowled. “You’re fretting. Do you want me to stay?”
“No. I want you to talk to Bossgond. But even more than that, I want you to bring him back here so I can talk to him.” By the time they returned, she’d have her thoughts in order.
He looked at her soberly. “I’ll do that. Return to the Tower. Go to my study and Sing ‘Open, water, access.’ The floor in one corner of the room will open to a large square pool. Practice Water.” Prof to student. The words reassured her enough to make a small joke.
“Still not willing to eat with Bossgond, even with the new cook?”
“I would rather eat with you,” Jaquar said simply.
Tuck grumbled.
“Oh, and Tuck,” Jaquar added.
“Bossgond called,” Tuck muttered. “Other Circlets called. Much noise. Worse than telephone and answering machine.” He made a high beeping noise like one of the sounds Marian’s PDA had programmed into it, and opened his mouth. “Call me at once on my new cell number 720-MRS-RICH,” issued from Tuck in Marian’s mother’s perfectly elocuted tones. Marian recalled she’d recorded the message with her PDA just in case she couldn’t remember the new phone number. As if she could forget MRS RICH.
Jaquar laid a hand on her shoulder, his face shadowed. “Your mother?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t understand the words, of course, but our link told me it was she. She doesn’t treat you as you should be treated, with respect.” And Marian felt his response to her mother’s message through the bond. He was grateful he’d had loving parents. Marian had reminded him of that.
“I must go,” he said. Gently, he pulled her into his arms. He tipped her chin up with one hand. “You are so lovely, inside and out.” Brushing a thumb over her lips, he said, “So very worthy of respect and love.”
25
Marian’s heart thudded hard as she stared into the deep blue of Jaquar’s eyes. The waves along the shore crashed, the odor of the briny ocean nearly overpowering the scent of man, of Jaquar, that she craved. All her senses were extraordinarily keen. She thought she could feel the weight of his gaze as it traveled over her face. Knew she could feel their auras, their Power, mingling. Their bond opened, emotions flowing between them. Tenderness. Respect. The faint edge of love.
He bent his head and his lips touched hers softly, yet a yearning stormed through her. His lips pressed hers, withdrew.
He stepped back. “I must go. If I stay an instant longer, we will mate on the sea.”
She nodded.
Jaquar took another step back. “Go to the Tower. Beware of other Circlets.” He ran for Nightsky and jumped onto the volaran’s back. The flying horse leaped into the sky, lifting with wings and Power. They flew in the direction of Alf Island and Bossgond. Jaquar lifted a hand to wave.
I’ll be back before dinner! he sent, mind to mind.
Fear spiking again, Marian didn’t wave back.
Tuck gave a tiny growl to attract her attention. He looked up at her, his face furrowed in a hamster scowl. “You left me alone a long time,” Tuck accused shrilly. Marian picked him up, but he wouldn’t settle in her hands and he nipped the fleshy part of her thumb in irritation.
“Ouch!”
“Serves you right,” Tuck said. “I was lonely. I was afraid for you. Many speak through the glass ball but not you and not Jaquar.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sat back on her hand, his little chest puffed out. “I am your companion now. Sinafin says so.”
“And of course Sinafin is always right,” Marian murmured.
Tuck nodded. “Yes.”
Marian sniffed.
Tuck had a hard time narrowing his bulbous eyes, but he tried.
Marian chuckled.
“You remember that she is teaching me, and when you raise your Tower I can become a feycoocu.”
All humor faded before renewed anxiety. What did Sinafin know? What would the feycoocu tell Marian if she asked? She stared at Tuck. What did he know and what would he tell her?
“Let’s go back to the Tower and have a little talk.”
“And food,” Tuck said.
She’d bribe him with anything. “And coffee.”
Tuck scrabbled up to her shoulder, set his pointy claws through the material of her gown, tugged at her hair.
“Ouch!” Marian said. “Let me make a pocket for you.” So she did, right above her breasts.
Tuck settled himself inside. “Nice. Warm. Heart sounds good. I’ll take a nap.” He wriggled a couple of minutes more.
Marian eyed the cove, almost wanting to see if her mastery of Water worked here, too.
Almost. She decided that Jaquar’s pool would be another good test.
She found the path from the beach to the interior of the island. Nibbling her lip, she visualized a map and thought this beach must be on the southwest portion of the island.
The sun’s warmth soaked into her, reaching every cell. She was a Circlet and specialized in Fire! Lightning, as a matter of fact. Now she only had to prove she had mastered Water.
How much would she be able to do in Jaquar’s study? She thought one of the reasons that she hadn’t been able to manage Water was the pressure of having Jaquar watch her—and judge her work. Always disliking error, she became paranoid about making mistakes while in his company. She’d never had an intimate relationship with a prof before—not that he was much like any teacher she’d known.
The attraction between them was so strong—not only physically, but of like minds and values. She had the idea that if she was given a choice between furthering her studies in Power or having Jaquar as a lover, she’d choose the man. That notion scraped her nerves—it sounded too much like her mother, who needed an admiring man around at all ti
mes.
So Marian stretched her legs on the walk back to the Tower. Her body was toning up, as much due to daily exercise as the calories she and Jaquar burned off in bed. He was such a fabulous lover.
But no doubt he’d want to see how she progressed with her lessons in Water. She grinned. She was hoping to show him she’d mastered it!
To bolster her confidence she crafted and refined a tune, and hummed what she whimsically called “Marian’s Rain.” It was both a mnemonic song to prod her memory for the right steps, the right feelings, she should have when practicing the cycle of seawater to rain, and a Powerful Songspell.
She was nearing the protective circle around the Tower when she stopped and stared at a carriage, without horses or volarans or even wheels, sitting in the meadow. It was an elegant equipage of bright green and gold with small pink-and-white striped flags on each corner.
Before she could figure out what it was, the Circlets Chalmon and Venetria walked from the direction of the Tower, calling, “Marian!”
Beware of other Circlets. Fear gripped her. They were between her and the Tower! But she could run, find a place to stop and open the protective circle. Escape.
She turned and raced. A hot splinter of pain speared into the back of her right shoulder.
Dizziness. The ground rose up. She managed to land on her side, sparing Tuck. Tuck…stay…still.
She fought unconsciousness, but wished she hadn’t when she heard Chalmon say, “This was all Jaquar’s plan. I wish he’d stayed to carry it through.”
His voice rang with sincerity, and Marian knew he’d spoken the truth.
Marian woke suddenly and completely. She stood in the center of the smallest of several pentacles increasing in size that were incised into the flagstones of a huge courtyard between stone theater seats open to the evening sky.
To her right, beyond the courtyard, was an opening to the theater where the carriage sat. To her left was a dilapidated Tower. She recognized this place. Parteger Island, the Tower Community gathering place.
It would soon be full dark, yet it was still light enough for Marian to see about thirty people watching her.
Trapped.
26
Tuck stared up at her with wide eyes from her bodice pocket.
About twenty people stepped up to an outer circle about six feet from her. They placed their palms out, spread-fingered as if holding her in place.
Marian’s breath stopped. She threw herself bodily against the barrier.
It didn’t give. They had her caught inside the pentacle.
“Line up around the pentacle, immediately,” Chalmon commanded those who hung back. He stood on the inner circle closest to her, along with Venetria and three other Circlets—just beyond arm’s length, though she reached and reached with fingers curved like claws.
Fear dried her mouth, buzzed in her head as she strove to reason at what was happening. She’d wanted to be Sent home to Boulder. It looked like she was going somewhere else, and she trembled to imagine where.
A young man looked uneasy. “I don’t know about this—”
“If you won’t stand with us, stay out of the way or leave.” Chalmon’s voice was hard. “The best estimate is that the Dark maw will open and release monsters, including sangviles targeted at us, before morning. We must prevent this!”
“I don’t like this,” a woman said. “I’m only a Scholar, and wasn’t told of this. I won’t do it. An Exotique is a precious resource, and this is gross betrayal.”
Damn right. Marian struggled to break free of the bonds again, this time buffeting the forcefield with her mind. Her Power fluttered like a butterfly inside a killing jar, though she saw sweat running from the Circlet’s headbands down their faces.
One against far too many. She could hardly breathe. She didn’t know what was going on, but sensed it was very, very bad.
“Where are her teachers—Bossgond, Jaquar?”
Good questions. Venetria raised her voice and began an intricately toned spellchant that drowned out others, and the Power wove thick around her. Marian’s palms dampened. Where was Jaquar?
“This was Jaquar’s plan in the first place,” Chalmon said. “He’s been informed of the danger of the nest opening shortly, and is on his way.”
Oh God. Doomed.
Just like that first premonition she had when she arrived in Lladrana. She wanted to shriek. She fisted her hands and flung mental bolts of Power toward the shield, fueled by sheer hurt and anger and fear. The invisible trap held.
“We must link and conduct the Ritual now. Join us or not.” Chalmon stepped into place, slapping his right hand into Venetria’s left. All around the circle people linked hands.
The Song swelled, added harmonies. Marian was caged with pulsing beams of red light sounding like the rush of a mighty river. She swayed, glassy-eyed, as if not only her body was captured and controlled, but her mind, too.
When she saw Jaquar running toward her, she sent him loathing, her mouth open with a silent shriek of horror and betrayal.
He stumbled. His gaze bored into hers. His face was all angles, tight expression. She couldn’t read him.
She couldn’t face him, either. Underlying her fear, her rage, her desperation was the burning acid of his lying and treachery.
She’d turned her back on him! Jaquar’s fury at the others dimmed beside his anger at himself. He should have told her what he’d originally planned, but he hadn’t wanted to see her respect for him destroyed.
Fool.
He had to reach her, prevent the others from Sending her, or go with her into the maw.
No price was too much to pay.
Her head tilted away from him. The Song between them ceased with a sudden, sharp shock. She’d cut the link.
Agony whipped through him—pain at the severing of the sex bond and all the emotions that had attached to it and spun delicately between them.
She shuddered time and again, hunched her shoulders, but did not face him.
He reached the outer circle of Circlets and Scholars and they blocked him—moving, dancing, arms linked. With gritted teeth he grabbed the clasped hands of a man and a woman passing by, inserted himself into the energy stream and winced when a crash of cymbals ripped through him.
But they hauled him up, kept him on his feet, moving forward in the circle. His mind wheeling to find balance, to think.
The loud chant diminished as it transformed to a voiceless Songspell that traveled mind to mind and was below hearing. He reached for the meaning of the words, struggled to comprehend, to counter.
But he could not stop it. The melody being forged was too great, created by Powerful, determined people, for once in concert. They were Sending Marian to explore and harm the nest—atop the shoulder of her gown was a tiny crystal ball that would relay the sights and sounds of the Dark’s headquarters to waiting observers.
He broke from the outer circle, ignoring the cries of the participants as he wrecked their energy flow, and staggered toward the inner circle. One glance at the five people and he had another thing to be thankful for.
Bossgond wasn’t there. They had spent some time discussing the rumors he’d heard of Jaquar’s original plan, then how to watch the nest. They’d come to no conclusions about how to attack or destroy it quickly. Then the old mage had drawn Jaquar into a long discussion about the Dimensional Corridor and Sending Marian back to Exotique Terre. Jaquar had returned to his Tower later than he’d planned, to hear Chalmon’s curt call. Doubt had crept into Jaquar’s mind as to whether Bossgond had delayed him on purpose. But no, he hadn’t betrayed Marian. Her mentor hadn’t betrayed her.
No, Jaquar, her lover, had.
Narrowing his eyes, Jaquar gauged his timing to push into the inner circle, past the swirling figures to the pentacle and Marian. The Sorcerers and Sorceresses of this round danced with hands clasped but arms outstretched between them. And with each step, the music rose, nearing a crescendo.
There! Jaquar
flung himself between two tall men, under their arms, into a stinging, ear-pounding thump of a drum. Bang! He pushed, penetrated the field, fell to his hands and knees, felt warm blood run from his nose.
He lurched to his feet, hurtled forward to the red-sphere cage surrounding Marian. He reached it, tried to penetrate the forcefield. Cacophony pounded through him—hissing, screaming, noise. He pressed onward. He had just touched Marian’s fingers when Venetria ordered, “Go!”
Chalmon’s deep voice followed. “Go!”
Jaquar grabbed for Marian’s hand. Missed.
“Go!” chanted a third Sorcerer.
The spell cloth encasing the weapon-knot Jaquar had snatched from his Tower fell from his fingers into Marian’s palm. It was the strongest weapon he could give her.
Her hand jerked closed over the thread.
Once again she turned terror-filled eyes upon him, and he knew in that instant that she thought his actions, too, had been part of the spell, of the plan.
“No!” he screamed, but he didn’t know whether she heard him before she vanished.
Utter silence descended—except for the echoing of his last no, around the stone theater of Parteger Island.
At the last minute, when terror overcame the haze in her mind, Marian understood that the Power flow was uneven, flawed. Unlike the Marshalls, this group wasn’t accustomed to working together. Further, none of them entirely trusted one another or the process of connection.
Deep inside, Marian screamed. It was bad enough that she was the puppet and the tool of this group. To know that they might be incompetent in their spell was terrifying.
What would happen to her?
Off balance, the Circlets’ minds and will yet managed to merge for one clear moment, and they flung Marian to the Dark maw. She shivered and shuddered and spun through planes of existence she hadn’t known about but recognized through the touches of minds against hers.
Wind didn’t take her—she could have mastered it. Lightning didn’t sweep her through the night—she could have bent that to her will. She traveled on the push of minds, on the waves of sound of a mighty Songspell.
Sorceress of Faith Page 30
