The Exile and the Sorcerer

by Jane Fletcher

  “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I’ve been reading about Walderim back at the time when your people left. Apparently, the Protectorate attitude to sexual relationships appalled your ancestors. I suppose you feel the same?”

  “No...not at all. If anything, it’s better than the islands. When I see couples like Verron and Marith, I think they’re sweet. They treat each other as equals. They talk to each other. It must be nice to have a lover who can also be a friend.”

  Jemeryl ran her hand through her hair. Tevi’s response tied in with nothing she had read, unless Tevi was wilfully sidestepping the issue as a defensive strategy, in which case things might get explosive if Jemeryl prodded too far. But she had to try. “So if there’s a couple who are both the same sex, how do you feel about them?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Yes.”

  It looked as if Tevi bit back her first intended retort. “If I met such a couple and realised...?” She shrugged. “It would hardly be my place to condemn them. I suppose I’d mind my own business and pretend I’d noticed nothing. Which shouldn’t be hard. It’s not likely they’d be brazenly advertising what they were doing.”

  Comprehension caught Jemeryl by surprise. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, while her mind raced, adding together the odd comments and the conjectures. Everything seemed to add up to a coherent explanation. However, Bolitho’s experience warned against optimism. Locked in her culture’s inflexible beliefs, Tevi had been unable to see what was happening around her, let alone accept it.

  “What else do you want to know?” Tevi broke the silence.

  “Actually, I was thinking about tunnel vision. More as a metaphor than a medical complaint.”

  “What do you mean? My eyes are fine now.”

  Instead of replying, Jemeryl sat, reviewing her options—not that there were many. She had to take the risk of enlightening Tevi.

  “But you still only see part of the picture.” Jemeryl dropped her gaze. “Your confession this afternoon would have made no sense to me if I hadn’t read a report by a sorcerer who visited Walderim as a healer, two hundred and fifty years ago. What you said reminded me of some odd requests for treatment he’d received from folk who complained they were sexually attracted to people of their own gender.”

  “You mean you can cure it?”

  The intensity in Tevi’s voice stunned Jemeryl. A few seconds passed before she found her voice. “I don’t know. It would honestly never have occurred to me to try.”

  “What did this other sorcerer do?”

  “He suggested they move to the Protectorate, where it wouldn’t matter what sex their lovers were.”

  Jemeryl anxiously awaited the response, but instead of a violent outburst, Tevi only looked puzzled. “Why would he say that?”

  “Because it was true, and it still is. Having an exclusive preference for one gender is a bit unusual, but no one is going to get upset about it.”

  Tevi stared in bewilderment.

  Carefully Jemeryl asked, “You said you stayed with Sergo and her son, in their cottage. Who else lived there?”

  “Her sister.”

  “Who told you it was her sister?”

  “Well, maybe not her sister, but she was a close relative. They...” Tevi’s words died.

  Jemeryl held her breath, trying to guess which way Tevi’s reaction would go. She wished Bolitho’s report could give her more grounds to hope.

  For a long while, only unspoken questions formed on Tevi’s lips, but at last she burst out, “But you can’t let the world run like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You need a woman and a man to have children.”

  “True, but were babies in short supply in Storenseg? Because the reverse problem is generally much more common. Even with potions to help prevent unintended pregnancies, most relationships in which the partners are of different sexes produce twice as many children as they’re able to care for. Families hope some of their members will settle with a partner of the same sex to provide homes for the rest. For example, Sergo’s son was born to her brother.”

  “But it isn’t as...”

  Tevi’s voice faded as a confused kaleidoscope of emotions chased across her face, yet inflamed moral outrage did not appear to be one. Jemeryl decided to risk a few further comments. “When you made your confession this afternoon, I couldn’t see why you thought it would upset me. What I now don’t understand is how you could have spent a year on the mainland without noticing the way Protectorate families operate. It defies belief—even with the problem you have telling men and women apart.”

  “You’re being serious? It’s not part of—”

  “Totally serious.”

  “But what do...” Again, Tevi’s voice trailed away. She pressed one hand against her forehead. Her eyes would not meet Jemeryl’s, but for the first time they seemed to be fully focused on the room around her.

  Despite Tevi’s obvious turmoil, Jemeryl was starting to relax. There were many other things they had to discuss, such as the quest, but they could wait. Better if Tevi had time to think, especially since there seemed a chance the islander might overturn her upbringing and reach a rational conclusion.

  Jemeryl got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Perhaps we’ll be able to talk things through tomorrow.”

  Tevi nodded in a dazed fashion. Jemeryl left her as she’d found her, still cross-legged on the floor, still staring into the flames, but the expression of despair had gone.

  *

  A quick check when Jemeryl awoke the next day revealed that Tevi was still asleep. There was no indication of how long she had sat up thinking or what the result had been. Hoping for the best, Jemeryl made plans for departure. Much in the castle would require careful dismantling.

  Just before midday Tevi emerged from her room, looking rather sheepish. Jemeryl prepared lunch, limiting her comments to the mundane, and waiting for the other woman to open the discussion. It did not take long once they were seated.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Tevi said between mouthfuls.

  “I’d rather thought you would. What conclusions have you reached?”

  “That a lot of things fall into place. Things Kimal told me, jokes I didn’t understand, things I heard and saw in the guildhall. Like a friend of mine, Cayell, talking of Big Papa and Little Papa. I just assumed ‘Big Papa’ was a wordplay on ‘Grandfather.’”

  “So now you’ve thought it over, how do you feel about the depraved behaviour of the Protectorate?” Jemeryl kept her tone light, although it was the most fundamental of the three questions she wanted to ask.

  “I feel I ought to be shocked, but somehow, I’m not,” Tevi answered thoughtfully. “There have been so many things we believed on the islands that don’t hold true on the mainland. This is just one more. I’m not sure what it means for me, though.”

  The appraisal was much calmer than Bolitho’s report had led Jemeryl to expect. With considerable relief, she moved on to her second question. “Might it mean that you don’t object to my accompanying you on your quest?”

  “I think I’ve...um. Sure, I don’t mind.” Tevi gave a half-shrug and started toying with the food. Something else was clearly on her mind. Jemeryl let her take her time. “Does everyone in the Protectorate take lovers from both sexes?”

  Jemeryl had the impression that Tevi was skirting around her real question. She answered carefully. “That would be a bit sweeping. I guess we all have preferences. Some go for blonds, some for women, some for manual workers. It’s not anyone else’s business.”

  “What about you?” Tevi’s eyes were fixed on her plate.

  The breath caught in Jemeryl’s throat. Her third question might be rapidly approaching. “Um...yes. As an apprentice in Lyremouth, I had affairs with my fellow students, both male and female. It wasn’t important to me which they were,” she said, adding mentally, As long as they were tall and dark haired.r />
  “When we leave, do you still think we should start by going to Lyremouth?”

  Jemeryl restrained her disappointment at Tevi’s abrupt change of subject. There would be plenty more opportunities. Rushing things was unwise. “Yes.”

  “Is there anything we need to get ready?”

  “Just a few extra supplies. If you go to the village, you can also reassure the locals you’re safe and give them the good news that I’m going. Use my pony as a pack animal. While you’re away, I’ll clear up around the place.”

  “What do we want?”

  “Depends on what’s going. Use your judgement. Why don’t you take Klara? If you get stuck, you could send her back with a message.”

  A short while later, Jemeryl stood on the battlements, watching Tevi ride down the overgrown path to the village. The ponies and rider disappeared through a gap in the outer walls of the castle. Jemeryl sedately descended the steps and entered the great hall. She paced to the centre of the room, and stood looking gravely around her at the piles of equipment. Then her composure broke, and a huge grin swept across her face. A volley of fireballs erupted from her fingertips as she indulged in a sorcerer’s pyrotechnic display of delight.

  *

  By early evening, the hall and study were empty—a considerable achievement even though one small sack was all she had to show for it. Jemeryl smiled as she deposited it on the table in the parlour. In reality, the bag was a gateway, rather than a container, through which items could be pushed into a suitable dimension. However, it was not quite so straightforward as the ungifted might imagine. It had taken only half a day to dispose of the equipment, but it would require much painstaking effort to unpack. Several reckless sorcerers had been killed by the impact of their belongings exploding through a carelessly opened dimensional gate.

  There was still no sign of Tevi. Jemeryl was wondering whether to eat or wait a while longer when Klara flew in.

  “Message from Tevi.”

  “What is it?”

  The magpie fluffed her feathers importantly. “Jem. The villagers want to hold a party in my honour. They kept insisting, so I agreed. Unless you object, I’ll stay here and bring the supplies up tomorrow.” Klara spoke in a fair imitation of Tevi’s lilting drawl.

  “She’s not coming back tonight?”

  “That was the general drift of it. There’s no point me carrying messages if you don’t listen.”

  “I just wanted confirmation. I was looking forward to seeing her.”

  Klara put her head on one side. “Do you want me to go back and say you object?”

  “Only if I can think of something plausible.”

  “You could join the party.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Maybe not.” Klara settled on Jemeryl’s shoulder. “Never mind. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Despondently, Jemeryl headed to the kitchen to prepare a lonely supper.

  *

  Jemeryl sat in front of the fire, flipping idly through the book on her lap. Ruff and Tumble lay asleep by her feet, and Klara was perched on the armrest. This was the way she had spent most evenings since arriving in the valley. Tonight, however, she could not concentrate. Once again, her eyes drifted away from the text.

  A rustle from Klara recalled Jemeryl to the parlour. Firelight glittered in the small black eyes, alive with the echo of Jemeryl’s own intellect. Unlike the bears and squirrels, Klara was a true familiar. The bond was so close that, effectively, Jemeryl performed part of her thinking in the magpie’s head.

  Many sorcerers viewed taking a familiar as a dangerous affectation. The effort of maintaining the bond often outweighed the benefits, and there were tales of sorcerers rendered catatonic when their familiars perished unexpectedly, although in Jemeryl’s opinion these stories were of dubious authenticity. Great care was needed in selecting a species. Cats were virtually the only mammals worth considering, although many types of reptile and bird were suitable.

  A magpie was an uncommon familiar, but Jemeryl was pleased with her choice. Klara combined acute senses with the useful abilities to fly and talk. A rueful expression crossed Jemeryl’s face. Tevi’s presence in the castle had made her realise how much she had fallen into the trap of treating Klara as a friend, even creating a sarcastic personality for the magpie. Talking to yourself was a bad habit, regardless of how you disguised it.

  Jemeryl sighed and discarded the book. Thoughts of Tevi had dispelled all hope of reading but brought another idea to mind. In response to an unspoken command, Klara hopped onto Jemeryl’s lap.

  There was one further advantage to having a familiar. Klara was permanently available for mind riding. Jemeryl closed her eyes and blocked out her own senses. After a second of disorientation, she refocused on the room from Klara’s viewpoint. For a moment she studied her own relaxed human face, devoid of expression in the trance, then she leapt upwards. Jemeryl’s wings caught the air, and she flew out of the room.

  Noise and light were spilling from the half-open door of the village hall. The gentle night breeze carried Jemeryl gliding over the huddled cottages and in through a large gap under the eaves. The magpie was invisible in the dark shadows beneath the thatched roof. She took a perch amid the rafters and settled down to watch, trying to ignore any pangs of guilt at such blatant snooping.

  It looked as if the entire local population was squeezed in below. Spotting Tevi in the chaos was not easy, even with Klara’s keen eyesight. Eventually, Jemeryl saw her, surrounded by a group of admirers. To judge by her actions, Tevi was recounting the tale of the hunt for the basilisk. The young mercenary was obviously the toast of the village. Jemeryl was amused to see Tevi’s bashful response to the constant stream of people offering praise and patting her back.

  Several young people were paying Tevi even more attention than the rest, their intentions clear. Jemeryl was unconcerned, even at the efforts of one especially persistent young woman. Tevi’s reticence, combined with Bolitho’s experience, reassured Jemeryl that competition presented no imminent threat to her hopes for Tevi.

  The revelry got more boisterous as the night progressed. Bodies littered the edges of the hall, collapsed in drunken stupor. Children were sent to their beds. From her vantage point, Jemeryl saw Tevi squeeze through to where the beer barrels were stacked. As Tevi refilled her tankard, the young woman again appeared at her side.

  The pair talked while they moved away to a clear spot. Tevi’s neck was bent to catch what the shorter woman was saying over the hubbub. Jemeryl ruffled her feathers, hit by a twinge of jealousy. She did not need to hear the conversation to know that the villager was flirting outrageously. Whatever was said caused Tevi to look embarrassed, which she covered by taking a hasty gulp from her tankard.

  “You’re wasting your time, young lady,” Jemeryl muttered. “At least, I sincerely hope you are.”

  Unaware of the watcher above, the unknown villager brushed blond hair back from her face. Her eyes danced with amusement as she stepped closer to Tevi. Jemeryl confidently expected the shy islander to back off. Instead, Tevi put her free arm around the woman and kissed her on the lips.

  In a jarring storm of sensation, Jemeryl wrenched herself back to the castle, leaving Klara to return on her own. The dislocation made her nauseous. The parlour spun and then settled. Even before she was fully attuned to her surroundings, Jemeryl had lurched to her feet, disturbing the squirrels that had settled on her lap in her absence.

  Jemeryl’s first intention was to rush headlong to the village. Common sense stopped her before she had taken three steps. All knowledge of human nature told her that such an intrusion was highly unlikely to achieve good results. It was not possible to dismiss the villager and forcibly claim Tevi’s affection—not by any method the Coven permitted. She had to leave Tevi and the villager free to do as they wished.

  Jemeryl sank back into her chair. Summoning all her self-discipline, she tried not to think of Tevi or of what might be going
on in the village hall. Her efforts met with utter failure. The night dragged by while the fire burned low. Klara returned from the village but wisely made no comment.

  The image of Tevi kissing the villager kept slicing through Jemeryl’s thoughts. Visions of what might follow stung like acid in the cuts. It became too much to bear. Jemeryl went to her stock of herbs and prepared a sleeping draught. Tomorrow, I’ll have Tevi back with me, she told herself. We’ll leave the valley and the villager behind. It’s pointless to sit up brooding. I’m going to sleep. Her face crumpled. Was it too much to hope that Tevi was also sleeping, considering what else she might be doing at that moment?

  *

  The honking of migrating geese woke Jemeryl at first light. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Memories of the previous night flooded back. Jemeryl pulled a pillow over her face in a futile attempt to block them out. There was no point trying to get back to sleep. She tossed the bedclothes aside and swung her feet onto the floor.

  Tevi should be returning soon. It might be wise to prepare herself for the meeting. Although preparations would probably be as much use as hiding her face in a pillow.

  Concentrating on sorting and packing was hard, especially as time went by with no sign of Tevi. In the end, Jemeryl abandoned all pretence of working and stood by an upstairs window watching the path to the village. An eternity passed before her vigil was rewarded with the sight of a lone rider leading a second pony towards the castle. Jemeryl leapt down the stairs and was waiting outside the great hall when Tevi finally arrived in the courtyard.

  Even before the pony came to a standstill, Tevi slipped off its back and trotted over to greet Jemeryl, her broad smile reflecting obvious high spirits. “Sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, but I had a late night and I overslept.”