Sorceress of Faith

by Robin D. Owens

  “I beg your pardon, Swordmarshall, but you were not in a very observant state at the time.” The healer still didn’t meet Alexa’s eyes.

  “Feycoocu, is this true?” asked Alexa.

  Yes, projected Sinafin mentally, strolling out from under Alexa’s chair as a long-haired white Persian cat.

  Alexa snorted. “I can see I won’t get any answers from you—you’re a cat.” Her mouth snapped shut, then she sent a fulminating glance around the room. “I won’t stand for such experiments, do you hear?”

  Thealia rose and took the little girl from Alexa, looking down at the Exotique Marshall. “We wanted to save our granddaughter.”

  Bastien curved an arm around Alexa and brought her against his body. “They tried something different to cure Nyja and it worked, evened out her Power flow.”

  Alexa fingered her baton.

  “You think her brain was affected beneficially by the jerir?” asked Marian.

  “Yes.”

  Marian trembled with excitement, with hope. “My brother’s disease is one of the nerves, particularly in the brain and the spinal cord.” But did a black-and-white’s fragmented Power flow have any resemblance to multiple sclerosis? Could the jerir liquid help Andrew? And would he have to have brain surgery in Lladrana to cure him?

  The Medica rose, then placed her hand on the journal. “These are copies of our notes regarding Nyja. She is an exceptional child, now.” She gave a half bow to the room and left, back straight.

  Marian stood and took the book, held it close. “Thank you,” she said to Thealia.

  Bossgond rose and snapped his fingers. All attention focused on him. He stood like a king, like the most Powerful magician in the world. “Exotique Marian was my Apprentice. I believe she has proven her worth to all of you. She would be an invaluable addition to the Tower and to all Lladrana in our fight against the Dark.”

  “I think you all know of her circumstances. She has an ill brother on Exotique Terre—Jaquar Dumont and other Circlets are prepared to return her to her home with the hope that we may Summon her back once again, and perhaps her brother, too. Who will stand with us in this endeavor?”

  Thealia laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I speak for myself and my Pairling in offering our aid.” She glanced around the room. “I would prefer if all the Marshalls agreed to be part of this Summoning, as we are the most trained in the technique.”

  “There are others to be Summoned in the future, too?” a Circlet said.

  Luthan rose. “The Song predicts that the battle against the Dark will be most effectively pursued and won if four other Exotiques are Summoned. The other segments of our society are interested in people who will work with them. The best times for the Summonings over the next two years are known.”

  Bossgond said, “The calculations regarding Exotique Circlet Marian’s travels through the Dimensional Corridor are specific to her and will not interfere with any other Summonings.”

  A burly-looking Swordmarshall rolled his shoulders. “More Summoning spells lie ahead of us. My Shield and I will participate in Summoning Circlet Marian. Good practice.”

  All of the other Marshalls murmured agreement. A huge burden of stress dropped from Marian’s shoulders. She exhaled a prayer of relief.

  Nodding at the Circlets, Bossgond said, “If you wish to take part in this exercise, both Sending and Summoning, please let me know.” He turned to Jaquar. “Come with me and we will refine our plans. Marian, we will be ready to speak with you in about an hour.”

  Everything was moving so quickly. And so well! Marian just stood and watched the others file out until only Alexa and Bastien were left.

  “We’ll be behind you all the way,” Alexa said. “If it can be done, it will be done.”

  “Thank you,” Marian said.

  Marian sat at the desk in her Castle apartment and studied the vial of jerir Chevalier Faucon had given her. It was a viscous dark liquid the consistency of thick maple syrup. When she held it up to the window, it was opaque to the light, but deep within the glass she thought she saw a sparkle or two. She didn’t know what that was, and nothing in the research notes mentioned sparkles.

  She’d already read the notes on baby Nyja, how much better the child had progressed after the submersion in the jerir than before. Drawings showed where the hole had been made in her skull. Marian had leafed through a fat volume on head injuries and surgery. Apparently the Castle Medicas had made that a specialty for generations.

  Her thoughts kept straying from her studies, particularly since she thought she’d absorbed everything she could about the jerir and healing. She continued to consider the people of Lladrana.

  The Marshalls and Circlets had ill-hidden their excitement at the information she’d given them. She suspected that they didn’t think the price she paid was too high and that the ends justified the means.

  Only Alexa, Bastien and Bossgond, the three closest to her, knew her trials and what it had cost her in terror and pain.

  As for Jaquar, he’d looked as if he had suffered every step of the way with her. She still could not banish him from her thoughts. She shifted in her seat as she thought of their lost bond.

  She tried to think about him in a logical fashion. Since she’d sensed facts about the Dark’s maw, had reviewed them, and then had come to conclusions about the inhabitants in a way that had helped all of Lladrana, hadn’t she also come to conclusions with Jaquar and Bossgond?

  Yes. She leaned back against the soft pillow back of the chair and closed her eyes, remembering the atmosphere of Jaquar’s Tower—the grief and rage and despair. She could believe him when he said his original plan was made in the craze of vengeance.

  Objectively, she could envision how the whole scheme unfolded…and how Jaquar might have backed off when his sorrow lessened and when he came to know her, as he’d said.

  After all, she’d only had that brief, deadly premonition about him once, the first time they’d met.

  But reason did nothing to ease the very real hurt.

  The little waterfall clock tinkled that it was time to join Bossgond and Jaquar in the chambers now allocated to the Tower, a suite of several rooms on the top floor of the west wall of the Keep. Prime space, she knew. She wished Tuck had been her PDA alarm clock and accompanied her, but after the meeting, Sinafin had carried him to the brithenwood garden.

  Marian hesitated to see Jaquar again, didn’t know what emotions would batter her. She set her shoulders, donning her most professional manner.

  Picking up the vial of jerir, she stared at it again, seeking the glimmers. They seemed to symbolize hope, and she took comfort from the small bottle. She put it in her pocket as an odd talisman and touched it as she walked to the Tower’s suite. She recalled how Alexa fingered her baton, and thought that if all went well, Marian herself would have a telescoping wand to hold and keep her fingers busy in the future.

  Though she ran her thumb only softly over the doorharp, they heard her, and Bossgond impatiently shouted, “Enter.” After a seconds’ hesitation, Marian set her fingers in the door latch and pulled it. The door opened outward and she slipped into the room, then closed the door behind her.

  Bossgond and Jaquar stood by a large library table under a bank of windows. The desk was covered with papers held down by various objects.

  The men were a study in contrasts—Jaquar big and handsome and young, Bossgond small and bony and wrinkled.

  But the sharpness in their eyes showed their minds, and Bossgond’s Song had an echoing depth and brilliance that Jaquar had not yet achieved.

  They were master Sorcerers.

  Now she was, too.

  Jaquar met her gaze with dark blue eyes shadowed with pain he made no effort to mask. She had to look away, especially since her loss of their bond throbbed with the same hurt.

  “Come here, come here,” said Bossgond. “Look at this sketch of the Dimensional Corridor that Jaquar and I have done.”

  She walked ove
r to the table. The white papers only emphasized the green of the fields and forests seen from the windows.

  The paper on top looked old. It showed an octagonal tube with round doors or portals on each side. She touched her forefinger to the drawing and inhaled sharply as the residual Song of the person who’d drawn this conjured up the brief vision she’d had of the corridor between worlds.

  “Yes,” she said. “It was like this, except I didn’t notice all the doors, or that there were other angles with portals.”

  Bossgond said, “We believe this corridor links eight worlds, all generally alike, and the easiest passage is between opposite doors. The drawing shows the axis of Exotique Terre and Amee as the angles that are ninety degrees to us, or straight up. We think the angles slowly rotate so that eventually Amee is closer to some other world than Exotique Terre, but it is only from Exotique Terre that we have Summoned others.”

  “So I should ignore the other angular walls with doors if I am able to control my trip through the corridor.” She sure didn’t want to get stuck somewhere else, where dimensional travelers weren’t understood or welcomed. Dreadful scenarios flashed through her mind. She banished them, concentrated on the drawing.

  “That would be safest,” Jaquar said in a raspier tone than usual.

  “Indeed,” Bossgond said absently, riffling through a stack of papers.

  “The Dark knows of the corridor and can open it,” she whispered.

  Jaquar nodded abruptly. “Yes. Because it sent a render after Alexa. But we will protect you.” His words hummed with a solemn vow.

  Bossgond crowed when he found the page he wanted. “With the help of some of the other Circlets, we’ve calculated the days when you should be Sent and when we will Summon you back.”

  He shoved a paper at her. “This copy is for you, to take when we return you. These are the recent and upcoming dates that the Dimensional Corridor resonates best between Exotique Terre and Amee. As you can see, the best time to Send you would be the day after tomorrow, but that is far too soon to prepare us all for a Sending Ritual. If it were a Summoning, it would be different—we know how to connect and perform that spell, since we did so last night, but a Sending…no.”

  Marian took the paper and glanced down at it. She saw a bold red line-graph that peaked a couple of days from now, smaller apexes along the line. Lladranan dates were written horizontally beneath peaks and valleys. The largest peak, at the far left side of the paper, was the day the Marshalls had Summoned her. Another high mark was last night, when many of the Marshalls, Circlets and Chevaliers had pulled her from the nest.

  Bossgond tapped the page Marian held. “Also included is the specific hour that is best for our Summoning Rituals.” He looked at her from under lowered brows. “Since you were first Summoned when you were performing your own Ritual, I think it makes the connection between us and the chance for success all that stronger if you do so again. I have written the chant that we will be using to Summon you back, and the chant you should do at the same time.”

  Marian licked her lips. “I see.” She smiled weakly. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I’ve had help,” he said gruffly, nodding toward Jaquar but looking past him. “Circlet Dumont drafted the chant.” Bossgond’s voice turned stiff. “He knows you better in some ways than I do. Exotique Alyeka reviewed the words this morning.”

  “Quite an effort. My thanks,” Marian said. She, too, dipped her head to Jaquar but didn’t meet his eyes.

  Bossgond said, “Your task now is to place the dates of Exotique Terre beneath the Lladranan dates, so the time corresponds to the moons and days that are the most familiar to you.” He gestured to another small desk. “Do that now, and when you are finished, you can go.” He looked pointedly at Jaquar. “The tension in this room is too high.”

  “Yes, Bossgond,” Marian said. “When do you think you will Send me?”

  He pointed to a yellow star on a date six days ahead. “Here, within the week, and the Summoning a few days after that.”

  Marian stared at the paper in dismay. Those times were a lot less favorable than all the previous times, and she wanted it better—perfect—for Andrew. “It’s diminishing. Couldn’t we wait until it builds again? Surely it does.”

  “Yes,” Jaquar said flatly. “But the Chevaliers have already approached the Marshalls to do a joint Summoning for an Exotique of their own. I, and some other Circlets—but not Bossgond—have agreed to participate.”

  Marian forced herself not to tremble. “I see.” She attempted another smile. “My wanting to return to Exotique Terre and then come back here has placed a lot of stress on you all.”

  Jaquar strode forward, held out his hand as if to touch her, then dropped it. “We need you.” He cleared his throat. “Right, Bossgond?”

  “Yes. Go do your work, Marian.” Bossgond bent back over the table.

  She took the paper to the small desk, picked up a feather pen and tapped her cheek with it. The first, highest peak showed the date of her Summoning underneath. It had been the night of the full moon on Earth. She’d never forget the May night—the full moon, the day before Andrew left for his retreat, the date of the big charity ball that her mother had expected Marian to attend. She knew the date well, and though she had come to think in terms of the days of the Lladranan moons—moon months—she’d kept track of the time that had passed. It only took her a moment to finish.

  But before she could show it to Bossgond for his approval, the Castle’s klaxon sounded.

  31

  Bossgond and Jaquar looked toward the south and the volaran Landing Field. Marian jumped from her seat, stuffed the piece of paper in her pocket, the note wrapping around the vial of jerir.

  Hurrying to the windows, she reached them just in time to see the first flight of volarans take off—all the Marshalls. She caught her breath at the awe-inspiring flight. Sword and Shield Pairs in colorful battle armor flew, helms glistening.

  The Circlets watched in silence as Chevaliers followed the Marshalls, lifting into the sky.

  Marian bit her lip. “They fly to battle often, don’t they?” Her hand went to the paper in her pocket. “What if they are gone—or an alarm sounds during my Ritual?” She hated being so selfish, but didn’t want to contemplate failure.

  Again Jaquar lifted a hand as if to cup her shoulder. Again he didn’t touch her. Bossgond threw an arm around her and squeezed.

  “You are a Circlet, an Exotique. Lladrana needs you. The Tower needs you. I am sure the Marshalls will do as they did before—”

  “Summon us at night? Both Alexa and I were Summoned at night, and it is rare for the horrors to invade at night.” She was crushing the paper. “But all the rest of the good times to Summon are during the day.” She’d noticed that.

  “The Marshalls will commit to Summoning you and perhaps some of the more Powerful Chevaliers, too. If the alarm rings, others will go—lesser ranked Chevaliers.”

  Blood drained from her head. She leaned on Bossgond. “In that case, in sending Chevaliers without the most Powerful, I may be the cause of deaths.”

  “There are always priorities, some people who are more expendable than others. I assure you that the Marshalls protect Exotique Alexa more than any other person in their group, and they would do the same for you,” Bossgond said.

  Marian didn’t like that thought, wanted for an instant to be held by Jaquar instead of Bossgond, since his face had gone expressionless. She sensed he didn’t like that option, either.

  Straightening her spine, she stepped back. “I’m finished with my exercise.” She showed the crumpled paper to Bossgond. He glanced at it and grunted approval.

  “I saw the feycoocu flying with Alexa and Bastien, so Tuck should be back in my rooms,” Marian said. The strain of being with Jaquar, wanting him and their link, and disliking herself for that wanting, was becoming too much.

  “Tuck will probably not wish to be Sent back to Exotique Terre with you,” Jaquar said quietly. “May
I have your permission to ask him to stay in his house in my Tower?”

  Once more Marian had visions of Tuck being dissected by Earth scientists. “I don’t think he should return with me. You may ask him, and if I am not able to return to Lladrana after I am sent, I would like you to offer to be his companion.” She didn’t trust Bossgond entirely with Tuck, either.

  Jaquar bowed deeply. “I thank you for your faith in me in this matter.”

  Marian had no answer for that. She stared at Jaquar, wishing he’d been the incredible man she’d considered him, a man in her eyes that had fantasy aspects. Too good to be true. But he was all too human, and her disillusionment would take a while to fade. He had plotted her death.

  Her judgment of men sucked.

  Emotions churned inside her.

  She turned to Bossgond with one last question. “What’s next?”

  He scanned the room around him with approval. “It has been a long time since I stayed at the Castle, and I’ve never been given the freedom of their library.” He shrugged. “I don’t think they know what treasures they have. The closer I bond with them, the easier it will be for us to link during Rituals. Also—” he grinned “—they are an excellent source of monster parts for spell ingredients.”

  That was another thing she didn’t want to think of that might roil her feelings—Alexa and Bastien at war, fighting monsters, and claiming trophies of those that tried to kill them and were destroyed instead.

  “So you want to stay here?” Marian asked.

  “Yes. Some Circlets will visit me each day and we will tune to each other, facilitating a link when it becomes necessary.”

  “You want me to remain here for the six days until I’ll be Sent back to Exotique Terre?” Marian sank into a nearby chair, trying to ignore the hum of Jaquar’s Song that insisted on feathering along her nerves.

  “Yes. The Marshalls should become better acquainted with you, your Power, your skills.”

  Marian sighed and rubbed her arms. “Where are my things?”