“And we’re still looking for this, whatever it is, this city of sorceresses? I think we ought to try and trace where the others have gone, try to find out where Acquilara could have taken them. If they’re being held for ransom, we can pay it. And if they want to fight, well, I’ll try that too.”
Rakhaila’s old filmed eyes turned to Cholayna. She said, “Ha’ ye a care what ye ask, sister; the goddess may gi’ it to ye.”
“I’ll take that chance, if you will guide me there,” said Cholayna quietly. “Marisela can take these others on to the City, or wherever they prefer to go. Will you guide me to whatever place Marisela believes our friends are being held?”
Rakhaila only gave a contemptuous, “Haw!” and turned away.
Jaelle and Camilla were sitting on their packs, eating meat bars. Magda heard them talking about Kyntha.
“She said, ‘Never name the evil you fear. ’ Does that mean such things as weather? Is it wrong to discuss the storm that’s coming?” Jaelle asked.
“Wrong? Of course not. Wise? Only if you can do something to avoid it. Certainly it is sensible to discuss precautions you can take. Apart from that, it only creates a self-fulfilling fear of something that can’t be helped. Don’t talk of how terrible the storm might be; think of what you can do to ride it out undamaged.”
“Then why did she tell us not to talk about Acquilara or even mention her name?”
Marisela smiled. Magda noticed it was the same cheerful, dimpled smile she used when she was instructing the young Renunciates in the Guild-house.
“I have spent too much of my life as a teacher,” she remarked, “I must be getting old; I am glad that there are wiser heads than mine to instruct you two. In brief, naming them could attract their attention; thoughts, as we know, have power.”
“But who are they, Marisela? I can just manage to believe in one benevolent Sisterhood demonstrating some interest in the affairs of women—”
“Of humankind, Camilla. Our sisters and our brothers as well.”
“But the idea that there is a rival organization dedicated to doing harm to humanity strains my belief!”
Marisela looked troubled. She said, “This is not the wisest place to discuss their doings. Let me say only that—Jaelle, you must have heard this among the Terrans as I heard it when I was in nurse’s training there— for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
“So they are a reaction to the good sorceresses, and do evil?”
“Not that simple. I can only say that they care not enough to do evil to humankind; they want what they want, that is all. They want power.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Jaelle argued. “You are always telling the young girls, in training session, that women have a right to claim power—”
“Power over themselves, my dear! That kind of power is in accord with the Sisterhood. We have only one aim; that in the fullness of time, everyone who comes to this world shall become everything that he or she can be or do or accomplish. We do not fall into the error of thinking that if only people would do this or thus, the world would thereby be made perfect. Perfection is for individuals, one at a time, we do not determine the way they choose to live. Nevertheless, when the Sisterhood sees long-term trends and dangers, they nurture— how shall I put it—tendencies which will break these patterns and give people a chance to live another way.” She smiled gently at Camilla and said, “I do not know; perhaps it was a part of the pattern that you should not have grown up to be the powerful Keeper you were so obviously born to be.”
“Keeper? I?” Camilla snorted indignantly. “Even had I grown to womanhood in my father’s house—my real father, that is, and after this I should be a fool if I did not suspect who he was… ”
“Right. Can you imagine yourself in the sorceress Leonie’s position?”
“I would rather—” Camilla began, drew a long breath, and said on a note of surprise, as if she had just this moment thought of it, “I would rather have wandered the roads all my life as a bandit’s sword-mate!”
“Exactly,” said Marisela, “but had you been reared in the silks and privileges of the royal house of Hastur, I doubt you would have felt that way, but would willingly have followed Leonie into Arilinn. Ah, Camilla, Camilla love, don’t fall into the error of thinking this was your destiny, ordained in stone before you were born. But if some God or well-meaning saint had put forth his hand to save you from your fate, where would you be today?”
Of course, Magda thought. It was the totality of her life that had made Camilla what she was.
Camilla asked, “Did you know? Before this?”
“I knew of you, till this very day only what you chose to tell me, Camilla, and what once I read in your mind and heart when you were—broadcasting; believe me, I have never invaded your privacy. What you were is of no interest to me.”
Jaelle said aggressively, “I suppose now you will say that the Sisterhood chose to save my life and Magda’s for some reason—”
“I am not privy to all their reasons! Shaya, child, I am only one who serves them, one of many messengers. I am free to guess, no more. Perhaps they felt some long-term purpose would be served that the daughter of Aillard should bear a child lest her laran be lost to the world forever. Perhaps they wished some psychic gift of the Terrans to be strengthened in the Forbidden Tower and thus brought Magda there after she had decided she wished for a child, so her little Shaya would be reared among those who would foster her laran. Perhaps some one of them succumbed, as I do even when I know it might be better not, to the simple wish to save a life. Who can tell? They too are only human, and make mistakes, though they can see further than we do. But no one is perfect. Perfectable, maybe, in the fullness of time. Not perfect.”
“Yet after they went to all the trouble of saving Lexie’s life they let her fall into the hands of—Acquilara? I’m sorry, Marisela, I just can’t believe that.”
“I never asked you to believe anything,” said Marisela, suddenly indifferent, and rose to her feet. “Except that just now, I believe Rakhaila wants us to move on, and my legs are cramped from sitting down. Can I help you pack the kettle?”
As they went on Magda had plenty to think about. If what they said about laran in those of Terran blood was true, she thought, I am surprised that I was not somehow pushed into having Andrew’s child; heaven knows, he has about the strongest laran of any Terran I have ever known. But evidently they allow total free will. They left me to destiny. And I have heard that the Syrtis are an old Hastur sect; so Shaya is kinswoman to Camilla by blood as well as to Jaelle by the laws of a freemate’s oath.
That was reassuring. If anything happens to me, Shaya will have kinfolk who will care for her. She and Cleindori are sisters indeed.
Jaelle said, “I’ll take the chervine now for a bit, breda,” and Magda relinquished the rein, moving forward to walk at Marisela’s side. The path was leading upward now, edging alongside a mountain trail with long switchbacks, hugging a stone cliff from which, sometimes, loose rocks bounced downward; but the trail at this point was covered with an overhang and Rakhaila strode confidently along it as if she could see every step of her way.
“Want to walk on the inside?” Marisela asked. “As I remember, heights bother you.”
“A little,” Magda said, and accepted, and they strode along side by side for a time, without talking. At last Magda asked:
“Marisela, these—I won’t name them; you know who I mean—” the picture of Acquilara was in her mind, in the curious bluish glow of her nightmare, “May I ask just one thing? Why would anyone—want to go that way? Are they the ones who, maybe, tried to—to look for the real Sisterhood and failed? And this was easier?”
“Oh, no, my dear. It takes much, much more strength and power to do evil than to do good, you see.”
“Why is that? I heard that evil was just being weak, taking the path of least resistance—”
“Goodness, no. That’s just being weak, fearful, selfish…
in a word, human, imperfect. If being weak were a crime we’d all stand before the judges. That’s excusable. Terrible sometimes, but certainly excusable. The thing is, people who are good, or are trying to do good the best way they can, they’re working with nature, see? To work up the power to do positive evil, you have to go against nature, and that’s much, much harder. There are resistances, and you have to work up momentum against the whole flow of nature.”
This was a new idea to Magda, that good was simply fulfilling nature’s plan and evil was anything which worked against it. She was sure she did not entirely understand it, for Marisela was a midwife and a nurse and, taken to extremes, this could be interpreted as a prohibition against saving lives, which Marisela had spent her whole life doing. She decided she would have to talk further about it some time with her friend. She was never to have the chance.
They were taking a long dip now, along the steep trail, into a long valley below the timberline. Before they dipped into the trees, Marisela called softly to Rakhaila to halt a moment, and pointed upward. Across the valley was a long line of steep ice cliffs, shining in the crimson brilliance of the sun.
“The Wall Around the World,” she said.
They drew together, watching, stunned. Vanessa drew a long, overawed breath. But all she could find to say was, “They look—bigger than they do from a plane in M-and-Ex.”
That was an understatement. They seemed to go on forever, far past sight. Magda thought, God, we’re not going over that, not on foot, are we?
Rakhaila gestured impatiently and set off at a swinging pace that took her out of sight among the trees. Camilla and Jaelle followed, but Cholayna dropped back beside Magda and Vanessa.
“I shall be glad to be going downhill,” she said.
“Tired?”
“Not as much as I thought I should be.” Cholayna smiled at her. “In a way I am more glad than ever that I came, if I could only stop worrying about Lexie.”
“This must have been what she saw,” said Vanessa. “It was worth it, just to see this. And we’re going across it!” She made a small sound of incredulous delight.
“And in line of duty too,” Cholayna said dryly. “Who was talking about rewards and wangling a working holiday, Vanessa?”
It was a pleasure Magda could gladly have dispensed with, but she would not spoil Vanessa’s enjoyment. They were between the trees now, some growing at crazy angles on the slope below, others hanging thickly over the trail, darkening the bright sunlight; but it gave some shelter, too, from the wind. Rakhaila, with Camilla and Jaelle, were out of sight. Marisela turned back to gesture toward the three Terrans to hurry, and for a moment her face, smiling gaily, was frozen for Magda in sudden horror and then blotted out in a shower of blood. Her eyes were still staring; in a split second of shock Magda remembered reading somewhere that the eyes of a corpse could see for some twenty seconds after death.
Then somewhere Acquilara’s gloating laugh echoed in her ears and she was dragged backward and down without a chance to struggle. She heard Cholayna’s smothered gasp, the only sound she could hear—Marisela had died without a chance to scream.
I had no chance either, she thought, insanely aggrieved, before the world became dark and silent.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
The first thing she remembered was, Dying hurts, but death won’t. But it did, she thought. Her arms and back felt battered, and she was sure at least one leg had been skinned.
I thought, if I died, I’d find myself in the Overworld. Cleindori said she was there before she was born. Or was that a child’s dream?
Too bad. It was a beautiful idea. She was sure now that the reality would be less pleasant. But where was Marisela? If they had been killed together, shouldn’t they be together now?
After a long time there began to be an orange glow, and from the distance she heard a voice.
“You bungled it, as usual. I especially wanted the other one alive, the midwife.”
Acquilara’s voice. Of course. What else?
“Shall we kill this one now, then?”
“No. I can find a use for her.”
After a measurable interval Magda thought, but they’re talking about me.
The next thought came also after a perceptible time. If they are considering killing me, then, obviously, I’m not dead.
And then she did not remember anything more for a long time.
When she woke again she was afraid she was blind. Darkness surrounded her, and silence except for a faraway dripping of water. Magda listened carefully, and after a time she heard soft raspy breathing. There was someone else beside her, sleeping. Sleeping, she thought indignantly, when Marisela has been killed, when I have been captured and beaten. How can they sleep? Then she remembered she had been sleeping or unconscious herself for a considerable time. Maybe she wasn’t blind. Maybe it was dark where she was, she and the other sleeper. She didn’t know… her eyes were closed.
As soon as that thought occurred to her, she opened her eyes.
She was lying in a cave. Above her great pale stalactites stabbed down from the roof, shadowing each other for as far as she could see, like pillars of some great Temple. In the distance there was a glow of fire flickering and throwing strange images and shadows.
She was covered with a thick fur blanket, but not tied up, as far as she could tell. That made sense. Who could run away, where could anyone go in this climate? She turned over; by the dim flickering light she could make out two blanket-wrapped forms sleeping beside her on the floor. Captors? Or fellow captives? There was not really enough light to recognize anyone. She felt at her waist and found that her dagger was gone.
“Shaya?” she whispered, and one of the motionless bundles stirred.
“Who is it? Is there someone else here?”
“Vanessa, it’s Magda,” she whispered. “Did they get all of us?”
“They have Cholayna. She hasn’t stirred; I think they may have hit her too hard.” Magda could tell that Vanessa had been crying. “I can’t hear her breathing. Oh, Magda, they killed Marisela!”
“I know. I saw.” Magda’s throat was tight. Marisela had been her friend since almost the very first day in Thendara Guild-house; they had worked together to found the Bridge Society. She could not believe the suddenness with which that innocent life had been snuffed out.
Why. why?
She said they were evil. She was right. I cannot remember that Marisela ever harmed anyone, or so much as spoke an unkind word; not in my hearing, anyhow.
And now they might have killed Cholayna as well. She crawled closer to Vanessa. “Are you hurt, breda?” She wondered why she had never called Vanessa by this simple sisterly word before this.
“I’m—not sure. Not badly, I think, but there’s a lump on my head. They must have hit me just hard enough to put me out. As far as I can tell most of my reflexes are intact. Everything works when I wiggle it.”
Magda’s eyes stung. How practical, and how like Vanessa. “Are any of the others here?”
“If they are, I can’t see them. They could—” again Vanessa’s voice quavered and Magda knew she was crying again, “they could all be dead, except us. If they’d kill Marisela—”
Magda hugged her gently in the dark. “Don’t cry, breda. It’s terrible, they’re terrible, but we can’t do her any good now with crying. Let’s just make sure they don’t have a chance to do any more killing. Did they take your knife?”
Vanessa managed to stop crying. She can cry for Marisela, Magda thought. I can’t. Yet I loved her. She knew she had not yet really begun to feel the loss. And she faced the knowledge that Jaelle and Camilla might be dead as well. All the more reason to care for Vanessa, and Cholayna if she was still alive. She repeated softly, “Did they take your knife? They took mine.”
“They have the knife I was wearing in my belt. I have a little one in my coat pocket and as far as I know they haven’t got that one, not yet,”
“Look a
nd see,” Magda whispered back urgently, “and I’ll see if Cholayna is—is breathing.”
Vanessa began groggily searching her pockets, while Magda crept toward the inert bundle that was Cholayna Ares.
“Cholayna!” She touched the woman’s hand warily. It was icy cold. The chill of a corpse? Then it occurred to Magda that it was very cold in the cave—though not nearly as cold as outside in the wind—and her own hands were nearly freezing. She fumbled to open Cholayna’s coat, thrust her hand inside and felt warmth, living warmth. She bent her head close, and could hear, very faintly, the sound of breathing.
Perhaps asleep, perhaps unconscious but Cholayna was alive. She relayed this information to Vanessa in a whisper.
“Oh, thank God,” Vanessa whispered, and Magda feared that she would begin to cry again.
She said hastily, “We can’t do anything until we know what kind of shape she’s in. I’ll try to wake her.”
With a possible head injury she did not dare shake her. She murmured her name repeatedly, stroked her face, chafed the icy hands between her own, and finally Cholayna stirred a little, with a painful catch of breath. She opened her eyes and stared straight at Magda without recognition.
“Let go of me—! You murdering devils—” It was obvious that Cholayna was trying to scream at the top of her voice; but the scream was no more than a pitiful whisper. It was equally obvious to Magda that if she did manage to scream, she would alert their captors, who could not be far off. She hugged Cholayna in her arms, trying to restrain the woman’s struggles, saying softly and insistently, “It’s all right, Cholayna. Be quiet, be quiet, I’m here with you, Vanessa’s here, we won’t let anyone hurt you.” She repeated this over and over until at last Cholayna stopped fighting her and recognition came into her eyes
“Magda?” She blinked, put her hand to her head. “What’s happened? Where are we?”
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 110
