Son of Avonar (10 page)

Another quarter of an hour and Martin's eyelids fluttered; his cheeks grew rosy.

“Cut the binding now.” Karon's voice was no more than a whisper.

Gingerly, Tennice picked up the knife Karon had dropped and slit the strip of linen. Martin's arm exhibited no drop of blood, no mark; on Karon's arm was only a new pale scar among all the rest. Karon gently laid Martin on the rug and backed away, but remained on his knees, arms folded, shoulders hunched, looking pale and fragile, almost transparent. He did not raise his head.

Martin sat up slowly, rubbing his temples and blinking as he looked about the room. “What's going on here? Why so solemn? Stars and planets, Karon, you look like death.”

Karon, eyes still averted, said softly, “I think there are those not far from here who'll tell you that is exactly what I look like.”

Martin glanced from Karon to the rest of us, and only after an awkward moment did his puzzled gaze settle on the spilled glass of wine, the silver vial, and Karon grimly fastening his left sleeve as if he could hide what was there. “Oh, my friend, what have you done”—his voice was filled with shock and distress, but no surprise—“and what have I, in my unbounded self-pity, done to you?”

“If Evard is to be king, then he must have someone worthy to keep an eye on him, to be ready when his subjects take his full measure,”—Karon glanced at Martin, his smile as pale as the rest of him—“and we'd miss your entertainments so.”

“And did you tell these others what you were about?”

Karon laughed ruefully and blotted his neck with the remains of his handkerchief. “I thought it best to surprise them with it. More in keeping with the Windham tradition of puzzles and mysteries. I thought that if I were to reveal my little secret, I'd best get some good out of it and make sure you were here to defend me.” His color was returning.

“And what did you think we would do?” asked Julia, abruptly sitting herself on the carpet between the two men and grasping one hand from each, forcing Karon to look at her. “Such faith you have in your friends!”

Tennice stood behind Karon and laid a long, thin hand on his shoulder. “Have you listened to nothing we've said these past two years? We know what kind of man you are, and nothing you've revealed this night makes any change in it.” Then Tanager sagged onto the couch cushions, saying sorcery must not be all it was made out to be, as it looked more like work than the devilish fun he'd been led to believe.

I sat on the hearth stool, trying to comprehend what it was I had witnessed. Nothing was as it had been. The world had changed as surely and irrevocably as if I had been struck deaf or blind, or had been roused from deafness to hearing or blindness to sight. But, just as Tennice had said, I knew this man. “Martin, I think there are some inaccuracies in the lessons I've been taught. I certainly hope someone has plans to set me straight.”

The night of Karon's revelation was a night of intoxication. We were four initiates caught up in the heady exhilaration of mystery and conspiracy. As our questions flew about the library like autumn leaves in a whirlwind, Karon pleaded that we had no time to waste. “I must go. Give me an hour. Then go to a sheriff, tell him my name, and report what you've seen. I'll not have you compromised for me. Every moment you delay increases your danger.”

Julia was weeping, trying to thank Karon for saving Martin's life, and asking what refreshment might relieve the toll his night's work had so clearly taken on him. Tanager swore to slit the throat of any man who said that what we had seen was anything but holy, and began reviewing the events aloud as if we had not witnessed them for ourselves. “Stars of night, man, you've got to tell us how you do it,” he said. “You can't just leave it.” Even Tennice pushed his brother aside and said he'd appreciate knowing one thing: Could Karon just tell him whether it was one of the Twins, or the First God Arot himself, or some unknown god who guided his hand in such works, or was it, instead, some factor of the blood?

I was so filled with wonder, I could not decide what to ask first, so I just kept mumbling that no one in that room could ever be so cowardly as to betray him to the law. He could never have heard me above the clamor. We might have continued all night in such fashion, but Karon looked more distressed by the moment and cast a pleading glance at Martin, even as he tried to disentangle himself from our exuberant circle.

“Silence, all of you!” Martin bellowed. “Karon, step into the garden for a moment—no farther, mind you! We must give these nattering fools a chance to think.”

Only when an exasperated Karon had retreated through the garden doors did Martin turn to us. “Sit down and listen, friends. This is perhaps the most dangerous night of your young lives, and I'll not have you go forward without stopping for one moment to give it some serious consideration.”

Once we had obediently sat ourselves on the overstuffed couches, sobered by his serious tone, he went on. “This is the law of Leire—and Tennice can correct me if I miss a word or two. To harbor a sorcerer, to knowingly speak with a sorcerer or listen willingly to one word from his mouth is punishable by death—not the unspeakable death Karon will suffer if news of this night's deed escapes this room, but death, nonetheless. To my everlasting shame, my weak and selfish impulse has put him and you in this danger. He has risked the stake, the burning of his living flesh . . . and every conceivable torment that could make even such horror as that a welcome gift . . . to save my pitiful life. Yet I know him well, and the last thing he would wish is to buy his safety with ours. Every moment that we delay in turning him over condemns us alongside him. You must think soberly of your lives and your futures. If you do not accuse him as he insists, then every breath you take from this night forward will have a binder on it, every word you speak will be restricted, every truth to which you swear will be tainted by the shadow of a lie, a secret, a withholding. No soul beyond this room can ever hear this tale, be it husband, wife, child, or lover. Never. Ever. Or we are all forfeit. Now, hold your peace until I give you leave. Think carefully.”

We obeyed his command in seeming. But one glance at each well-known face told the answer. No one of us would ever preserve his own life by setting the hounds on Karon. When Martin released us from our silence, we told him exactly that. Yet even as we released our pent-up indignation—that Martin might, in the remotest chance, believe one of us could be such a craven coward—my cousin confronted each of us individually, asking if we would swear to keep Karon's secret, be damned whatever came. Each one agreed. He came to me last.

“And you, my dear cousin. Never would I knowingly have faced you with this circumstance. To require you to carry such a burden into a marriage . . .”

“There is no burden here, Martin,” I said. “Every time I'm at Windham my world grows larger. Who better to understand truth than one who might be queen?”

There. I'd said it. The fact that could not be lost in the excitement of the night.

Martin smiled at me fondly. But behind the lines that five and forty years of good humor had written on his kind face was pain and worldly wisdom that I could recognize, though not yet understand. “If I'd only kept that thought in my head a few hours ago, perhaps I could have spared Karon and all of you the consequences of my unforgivable cowardice. Go fetch him, and we'll let him tell you more of truth.” Tennice and Julia poured brandy, while I hurried toward the garden door.

 

I found Karon stretched out on his back in the grass, his arms behind his head, gazing upon the stars that were scattered like diamond dust on the black velvet sky. Not wishing to startle him, I approached quietly, and so I glimpsed the expression on his face before he was aware of me. Not fear. Not anxiety. Only yearning—the same hunger I glimpsed when he walked with me in the garden or at the times when he stepped back from our laughter in Martin's drawing room and embraced our company with his eyes. In seeing him devouring the glory of that night, and in thinking of all I knew of him and all I had witnessed, both the essential question and its answer sprang up wholly formed in my head. I believed I might already understand what he would tell us.

I cleared my throat and sat down on the grass, wrapping my arms about my knees and waiting a moment to see if he would look around. He kept his eyes on the sky, but he blinked and shifted his arms protectively across his chest, so I knew he was aware of me. “You're replenishing yourself,” I said, venturing my theory. “Replacing what you spent on Martin.”

“Yes.”

“That's what it's all about. What you are all about. Beauty, joy, friendship . . . these things you are able to cache within yourself . . . and then spend.”

“Life. All of it. Pain and sorrow are wonders, also. But, of course, beauty is easier.” He rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand, smiling as one will do to soften a hard truth.

“And the spending . . . is sorcery.”

“Exactly so.”

“I want to know. About you. About all of it. Why have we been so deceived?”

That sorcery equated with evil was a fundamental construct of the universe, a fact as sure as that time moved forward and not back. No history or science was required to prove it any more than history was required to say the earth was solid beneath our feet or the ocean fluid. Not only our priests condemned sorcery, naming it as one of the abominations of the earth that Arot had tamed in the Beginnings, but our kings and wise men, our mothers and grandmothers, men of science and warriors, believers and unbelievers agreed that it was a perversion of nature. Now, in one short hour everything had changed, and the gap in my knowledge of the world was so vast, so stark, I believed my head must cave in. This man and the healing I had seen him work were as far from evil as anything I had ever known.

Karon sat up and, after one quick glance at me, dropped his eyes and began picking at the grass. “I wanted to tell you—and the others—but because of how things were with you . . . your future . . . it made no sense. And then today, I should have sent you all away, but I didn't even think of it. After so many years, not to think of it . . . Maybe it was because I wanted you to understand.” He shook his head wonderingly and expelled a quick breath. “I always thought it would be so hard to explain, but I should have known you would put the pieces together. Even Martin took a while to understand the connection you've just seen.”

Why was it that those of Martin's circle were forever underestimating me? “I would imagine that Martin had neither the patience nor the incentive to observe you as closely as I have over the past two years,” I said. “There are some things at which a woman is an expert before she is eighty!”

The words came out more prim and bristly than I intended, but Karon burst out laughing and I felt myself consumed by his remarkable eyes. “Oh, gods, Seri, how I love you! What I wouldn't give—ah!” He bit off his words and looked vexed. “Damn! My tongue will not keep still. My habits are all askew tonight.”

He jumped to his feet and offered me his arm, instantly sober and contained. “Come,” he said softly. “The others will remember all their training and believe I've eaten you.” I allowed him to pull me off the grass, but I did not take my eyes from him. Everything was changed yet again by that moment's revelation. Though he avoided my gaze and swallowed his words as if to recall them, nothing would erase what I had just heard. Truth. As clear as the clean-washed night.

We strolled across the garden, up the steps, and into the library, but I might have been treading on cloud or water for all I knew. Only when we halted in the middle of the library did I wrench my eyes from Karon's face. The others were staring at us, sipping brandy, and waiting. I could not think what they were waiting for.

“We thought perhaps you two had wandered into some other garden,” said Julia, her head tilted, peering at us thoughtfully.

“This exceptional young woman would not get lost in Hierant's Maze,” said Karon, releasing my arm and immediately retreating toward the hearth. “She has been explaining her theories of sorcery to me.”

As I sank to the leather couch beside Julia, Martin widened his eyes and waggled his eyebrows at her. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, but before my cousin could come out with whatever clever jibe he was concocting, Karon drew the group's attention back in his direction. “So have you decided, sensibly, that I must be on my way?”

Oh yes, the grim reality of the night. Somehow I could no longer grasp it.

Tennice snorted. “Seri! You didn't get even that far in almost an hour?” Everyone but Karon and I laughed, and my face flamed hotter.

“There was no time,” Karon said, clasping his hands behind his back. “The young lady was busy reading my soul and reciting to me its inner workings, telling me I must explain a few things more so as to advance her education.”

“Well,” said Martin, “since Seri was distracted from her task, I'll tell you that these young lions have sworn on their lives and honor—and most importantly, their tongues—that your secret does not go beyond this room. They understand the consequences for you and for themselves if it should. So it's up to you. We will take the risk of having you here. If you are willing to take the risk of our silence, then there's no need for you to go.”

“I've traveled enough for the present,” said Karon, softly, and the great hand which had been clenching my heart and stomach released its grip.

Martin laid his hand on Karon's shoulder. “If you're to be with us for a while longer, and since I don't think any of us are yet ready for sleep, then perhaps, as Seri suggests, it's a good time to tell your friends the history they never learned.”