Sorceress of Faith

by Robin D. Owens

  “Mo—Candace, do you realize you’re ill?” Marian couldn’t give up.

  “Oh, is that some of your New Age wisdom? I suppose you’ll prescribe some nice herbal tea for me.”

  Marian didn’t want her mother sick. Didn’t want Andrew sick. Didn’t want anyone she loved to die. “Let me review the doctor’s reports and we can…”

  Candace made a disgusted noise. “No. I’ll live my life as I see fit.”

  “You’re ill.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Let me help!” Marian cried, twisted inside.

  Whirling, Candace glared at her. “You’ve never been a help to me. You barely arrived tonight on time, and did so only because of the money.”

  “No. Not entirely—” Marian’s breath hitched.

  With a nod of satisfaction at the room, Candace went to the light bank and flipped all but one switch off, then strode to the double doors to the lobby. She and Marian went through at the same time.

  “Candace, I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk with you. Not now, and not later.”

  “A luncheon appointment.” Marian caught her hand, fragile as a bird’s.

  Candace wrenched her fingers away. “No.” She didn’t meet Marian’s gaze.

  Candace’s jaw firmed and Marian could barely see the scars of her last face-lift. Blue eyes the same color as her own scanned the lobby, then finally locked with Marian’s.

  “We simply don’t have anything to say to each other, Marian. We are too different.” Candace unlocked a closet, slipped on her fur coat and stroked it. Her hand trembled. Then she straightened her spine and headed to the front door. “Go away, Marian. I’ll let you know when you might be of use to me. Go back to your pitiful, lonely little life. You may know book learning, but you don’t understand anything about the real world or men.”

  “I—What about John? What does he think of the doctors’ reports?”

  Candace lifted her chin. “John supports me in all I do. As for you, I’ll transfer the last of your college fund Monday. Then we’ll be done with each other.”

  The words were like a blow. Harder than she’d ever heard from her mother. Impossible to bear without a cry of pain. “Why are you being so hateful?”

  Candace swept out of the lobby into the night; Marian keeping pace. “I’m not being hateful, I’m being honest. You want to drag me around to doctors, as if you know best and they can fix my life. My life is excellent. Your life is the one that needs fixing. By the way, that streak in your hair ages you.” She turned and locked the doors behind them.

  “Mother, I’m moving away.”

  Candace waved for her car parked a block down the street to pick her up. “Is that so? Out to California with Andrew, I suppose. Well, from what I understand the Californians are even more fitness conscious than Coloradans. You’ll have a hard time finding a man there.”

  More words she had to ignore. One last try. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. If ever.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she said. As if already forgetting her cruel words, she air-kissed Marian’s cheek as the chauffeur came around to open your door. “Bye-bye, Marian.” She slid into the back seat of the car.

  Just before the door closed, Marian saw the mask drop from Candace’s face. It sagged with fatigue and sickness. Candace didn’t know this might be the last time she’d see Marian. Candace really didn’t care.

  Hurt washed over Marian as the taillights of the car blurred in her vision. She stumbled to a bench flanking the doors to the hall. For a moment she just sat, absorbing the verbal slaps her mother had dealt her. Her shoulders slumped. There would be no rationalizing the words away, pretending they didn’t happen, pretending Candace didn’t mean them. With the closing of her car door, Candace had snapped the mother-daughter bond.

  It was so fragile it had disintegrated into dust, and any remnants would be blown away by the time Marian reached Boulder.

  The next day Marian awoke with a screaming headache and burning muscles. Daylight stabbed pain into her eyes. She stumbled from bed a couple of times to take aspirin, splash her face with cooling water, then return to sleep. Once, as she passed Tuck’s cage, she tested the theory that everything had been a fever dream and opened the plastic lid to find him.

  He was gone.

  A glance at the taped pentacle in the living room showed that her PDA was gone, too.

  She retreated to bed and slept the day and the night away.

  Sunday morning she awoke ravenous. Once again she checked what she could to see again if her time in Lladrana had been a dream.

  No Tuck.

  No PDA.

  And a beautiful purple velvet gown hung in her closet, with a container of jerir, a yellow stone and a crumpled piece of paper in the pocket.

  As she ate breakfast, she studied the parchment. It was parchment, made from some finely scraped animal skin. The ink had dried bright and vivid, unlike most standard Earth inks, more like the ink of illuminated manuscripts that were specially made—of ground semiprecious stones, weren’t they?

  The second thing she did was log onto the Internet and searched for “Lladrana,” “jerir,” “Circlet,” and any other unique words that might indicate other travelers.

  Nothing.

  No scientific data on Dimensional Corridors.

  She walked to campus and around it, enjoying the late-spring day, the comfortably familiar sounds and sights of other students. She stopped and stared at her department building and thought of her future there.

  After she made sure she was unobserved, she Sang a tiny wind into being. It swirled over a few grass blades, then died. The effort to call the wind was about triple what she would need to do the same on Amee. It left her hungry and with tendrils of a headache throbbing in the back of her skull.

  She’d been avoiding weighty concepts, disturbed emotions, trying to be steady and stable all day long. But she’d have to decide what to do soon. Tomorrow was Monday. She couldn’t see herself going in to work at the Engineering Department.

  She had time, a little voice inside her whispered as she walked back to her apartment. She had nearly three weeks.

  During lunch, she studied the timeline again and saw a day circled in brilliant blue, with a notation in Bossgond’s hand. “Summon Marian and Andrew back to Lladrana.”

  Invisible ink, of course. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Everything fell into place. Bossgond had seen her through his dimensional binoculars on Earth when she’d been in Lladrana. Naturally he’d correctly deduced what had happened, but had said nothing to her in case he might change what was or what might be.

  Still, it made her shudder.

  That afternoon, she went over her finances. They were in good shape and if she received the last of her college fund tomorrow she’d have plenty to live on before she was Summoned to Lladrana.

  If she went. The day had been delightful. She’d steeped herself in the rich and sustaining essence of Earth, of her life as it had been.

  The choice before her was just too gigantic for her to act hastily. She decided to quit her work-study job. Spring semester had just ended, and though she’d planned on registering for summer classes if she received her college fund, she could delay a while.

  So she tidied her apartment and late in the evening began a tentative list of what she’d like to take to Lladrana, if she decided to return. When it was finished, she figured it would take a moving van to transport. Probably the most she could carry was a backpack, and Andrew, too.

  Her sleep that night was peaceful and she awoke refreshed. Her first order of business was quitting her work-study job. She’d finished a big project and summer school would be light. Though the Dean was naturally grumpy about replacing her, he didn’t seem too concerned.

  Again she walked around the campus, strolled along downtown Boulder, enjoyed herself and considered her two lives. Everything seemed so clear in Lladrana.

  She could have magic
here. But could she integrate it into the life she’d planned? Not easily. Marian suspected that her trials in the Dark’s maw was only the overture for a long opera. If she was to play her proper role in Lladrana, she’d be integrally involved in defeating the Dark. She already felt like she might have a bull’s-eye painted on her.

  And there was Jaquar. She didn’t want to much think about him, either, but great quests would entail many other “greats”—sacrifices, betrayals, triumphs. She’d never had a man like him before and didn’t think there was one walking the streets of Boulder who could compare.

  She sat at her kitchen table and made a list—pros and cons for returning to Lladrana or staying on Earth.

  Lladrana won.

  With trembling fingers, she opened the Lorebook of Knot-Weapons. The volume was well organized, with simple knots first. It showed a picture of the knot, the description of its use including effects and damage, then gave visual instructions on how to tie the knot step by step. When Marian touched those pictures, a faint haze appeared as if a holographic picture should be projected. Not enough Power on Earth—though if Marian sent her own Power through her fingertips, she could see the “movie”—hands slowly tying the knots.

  Dread tightening her muscles, Marian continued to turn the pages. Her knot was the third from the end, “City Destroyer.” Her mouth dried and she edged away from the book, setting her fisted hands on her lap. There was a long “Warning” section, describing how to encase the user of the weapon in a Powerful shield before its use. The shield chant looked complex and demanded perfect pitch. Which Marian didn’t have.

  Mouth dry, Marian scraped her chair back and went to the kitchen for a glass of filtered water, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she’d untied the knot.

  It would have destroyed the maw—at the cost of her life.

  The whole matter smacked of fate.

  She’d have to use the book in the future, hopefully when she was very, very Powerful and had found someone to shield her. With friends, maybe—though she didn’t think Alexa had perfect pitch, either.

  Of course Andrew was her priority. She was sure she could convince him to return with her, but she’d have to ensure he believed her first. Could she connect with him in the Lladranan way? Let him feel her experiences?

  She was happy and excited, until she called and spoke with Andrew’s doctor.

  “I’m glad you phoned,” Dr. Chan said. “Since Andrew authorized me to tell you everything, I’ll be blunt. His health is poor. He’s underweight and vulnerable to infection. He has fallen several times the past few months and has been lucky not to break a bone. The intervals of time between attacks are shortening and the flare-ups are more intense and longer.”

  Marian clutched the phone. She hadn’t known. It didn’t sound good. If Andrew believed his mind was failing…She shuddered.

  34

  Marian forced herself to wait before going to California. Time had to elapse so she wouldn’t see herself in Bossgond’s binoculars. She kept herself busy changing her life.

  She readied herself, poring over the Ritual chant Bossgond had written, retrieved the hard-copy notes of the Ritual she’d written for herself and refined it to dovetail with the Lladranans’, and prepared the pentagram.

  And she practiced. By the time the Marshalls and Sorcerers and others would Summon her and Andrew, she would be letter-perfect in her own Ritual.

  Echoes of Lladrana reverberated in her days. One morning she found herself tense and nervous, then felt giddy with relief. When she looked at the timeline, she saw she’d Tested for Scholar that morning on Lladrana. So she bought a huge calendar and filled in the blocks with what she recalled of each day there, so she could “listen” for the echoes, feel the resonance of the emotions affecting her in Lladrana.

  Finally, she took a flight to Andrew’s ranch home in San Mateo, California.

  As she went into his office, she noted the additional equipment for his deteriorating health. Canes and walkers stood in every room, his computer had a voice-recognition system for when his fingers lost mobility and an ergonomic keyboard for when his voice slurred. The sight of these made her eyes sting. No one should have to live this way, fall before an encroaching disease.

  Marian called the retreat. When a counselor answered, Marian left a message that she had an emergency and needed Andrew, then gave his phone number as a contact.

  He called a couple of hours later, sounding worried. “What’s up, sis?”

  “I need you, Andrew.”

  He swore. “I knew there was something going on that you weren’t telling me about.”

  “I’m not the only one who’s been hiding things,” she said. “I spoke with Dr. Chan.”

  There was silence.

  “I love you, Andrew, and I need to talk to you—about some life changes I am considering.”

  “You!”

  “Yes. I’ve quit my work-study job and dropped out of school. I’ve been out of the country and have another…vocational offer, but whether I pursue that or just transfer to a California university is up to you. I want to get your opinion.”

  “Huh,” Andrew said. “This can’t wait until after my retreat?”

  “I’m afraid not. The timing is difficult.” She took a breath.

  “And I spoke to people where I was about you and received a herbal medicine that might help.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  Again there was a long silence. It scraped Marian’s nerves until she burst out, “Andrew, so much has happened. Such incredible events. I can’t…I can’t discuss this on the phone.” To her horror tears clogged her throat.

  “Shh, sis. I’ll come home. You’re at—my house, right?”

  “Yes.” She sniffled.

  “You want to make the arrangements for a plane and car, or do you want me to?”

  “I’ve got all the details ready.”

  “Of course, give ’em to me. I have a pencil and paper.”

  So she did.

  “Looks good,” Andrew said, then paused. “Thanks, Marian.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Thanks for saying you need me, for calling me with your news and making me feel…strong.”

  “You are strong, Andrew.”

  He snorted. “Not many people treat me like that, though. I love you—see you later.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As soon as she hung up, a tide of exhaustion overwhelmed her and she slipped into the guest bed and slept. And dreamed of Jaquar playing with her in a storm…

  Marian woke to a commotion at the front door as Andrew paid off his driver and disengaged the alarm system. She dressed in her purple robe and hurried into the living room.

  Andrew closed the door behind him and locked it, then took the walker standing by the door and leaned heavily on it as he stared at Marian. “My God, you look different.”

  She ran to him, trying not to show her shock at his thinness and infirmity. “I’m so glad to see you!” She hugged him gingerly, then returned to his comment. “Different how?”

  Slowly he shook his head. “There’s the hair, of course. That silver streak is very striking. Natural?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad. Guess you really did have weird stuff going on.”

  Marian raised her eyebrows. “You thought I lied about it?”

  “Fibbed.” He smiled slightly. “Thought you were worried about me and spinning a tale to come live with me or something.” He shook his head again. “You look…trimmer. In shape.” He flushed.

  “That’s okay. Any more comments about my appearance?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You look more yourself. But more…You glow. You aren’t pregnant or anything, are you? If you are and the guy dumped you, I’ll kill him!” His expression grew fierce.

  Marian took a step back in surprise. “No. Not pregnant.”

  “But there was a guy, I can tell.”

&nb
sp; Andrew took a couple of clumping steps toward her, and she realized he was very tired.

  She wanted to rush to him and help, but instead indicated his recliner and took the one on the other side of the table.

  He stumped to the recliner and lowered himself into it, still keeping his eyes on her face. “Did the jerk dump you?”

  Clearing her throat, she shook her head. She had cut the bond between herself and Jaquar. “No, I dumped him.”

  “Wanna talk about it?” Andrew relaxed back into the recliner and shut his eyes.

  “Not particularly.”

  “All right.”

  “Do you want me to—” But he was asleep.

  For a time she watched him sleep. So beloved, this brother of hers. He’d been the only loving and stable person in her life. But she was deeply afraid for his health.

  He was so much worse than she’d known. Or perhaps she was just looking at him with new eyes. Her mouth firmed. There wasn’t much here that could help him, but maybe on Lladrana…She’d try anything to cure him. Dipping in, or perhaps even drinking the magical jerir. Paying the Marshalls any price to do a group Healing. The same with the Circlets. And the Friends of the Singer. Perhaps the Singer herself had Powers, could channel the Power of the Song to help Andrew.

  Her options and methods might have changed, but her priority remained the same.

  Since he was sleeping and she needed to do something, she went into the kitchen and took out a frozen casserole. It could warm until he awoke.

  She picked up his duffel and unpacked it, set his medications on the table by his elbow with a glass of water and put the dirty laundry in the washer. She was transferring his clothes to the dryer when he called her name. She finished her task and walked to the living room.

  “So, I didn’t dream you,” he said.

  Leaning against the arch that separated the living room from the kitchen, Marian smiled at him. “No.”

  He rubbed his face, moved the recliner upright and drank some of the water. Serious gaze fixed on her, he said, “Sit down. Tell me what changed you and what you want to do about it. What you want me to do about it.” A corner of his mouth lifted as if in pride that she’d asked for his help.