Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (20 page)

Mist leaned closer, and her eyes searched Ranira’s face. Satisfied, the woman nodded. “You will not have to do anything except be still, but you may find it easier if you are comfortable. I will begin as soon as you are prepared.”

Ranira shifted a little and looked up. “I am ready,” she said again. Would the woman never begin?

For a moment Mist looked at her. “Close your eyes, and try to relax,” she said finally. “I think it will be easier for both of us.”

Ranira obeyed. She heard Mist begin the chant. In her mind she pictured the woman bending over the white stone, as her voice wove a web of magic around them both. This time the chant was rhythmic but without distinguishable words. Ranira felt light-headed and lethargic at the same time, as if her mind was floating on a pool of thick honey. She felt something brush her face, light as a spider’s web, and the touch brushed her mind as well, sending a pang through her entire body.

The spider-touch came again, but it was not really unpleasant, and Ranira was too relaxed to object. More of the gentle, invisible threads caressed her face, each finding an anchor somewhere in her being. They felt like leaves around her mind, wrapping her in a cocoon of imaginary whispers.

A tremor ran through the web, disturbing her. Without thinking, she opened her eyes. At first the scene she saw made no sense to her bemused mind; then she blinked, and everything snapped back into its proper place. Mist was slumped beside her, partially supported by one of the bushes, her eyes closed and a half-smile on her lips. A faint silver-blue glow hung like a fog about the stone that dangled openly from the chain around her neck. Ranira reached for it like a child reaching for a glitter-toy.

A red flush stained the shadows on the ground, announcing Kaldarin’s rising. Suddenly the world exploded in pain. This time Ranira felt more than a heavy blow; the spell was like a sword cutting into her head, but the slicing stroke did not stop. She heard voices crying out around her, then realized that one of the screams was her own. But she was too caught up in pain to care.

Somewhere under the flooding anguish she could feel Mist, writhing with her as the pain went on and on.
But she’s a witch and I’m not,
Ranira thought hazily.
The Temple spell only works on witches, and I’m not a witch. Mist is a witch
—
and Arelnath
—
but not me!
Pain made it difficult to think, but the habit of denial was old and strong. Ranira clutched at the familiar rejection.
I am not a witch,
she insisted in her mind.
This should not be happening to me.

The pain began to abate. Ranira fought desperately and instinctively to keep the ground she had gained. Suddenly, the attack shifted; the memory of her parent’s execution rose vividly before her, filling her with a different kind of pain and distracting her from her efforts. For a moment, she heard their cries once again, smelled the sickening odor of burning flesh, and felt the heat of the flames. Then she thrust the scene away, trying to force it out of her mind before it reached the moment that had haunted her dreams for so long.

She almost succeeded—almost, but not quite. As if she stood once more in the courtyard of the Temple, she saw two figures clearly through a sudden gap in the smoke and flames; she reached out for them. A wave of fear and agony and protest swept out from them and engulfed her, then ceased in a shock that was more painful than the emotional storm that had preceded it. She  screamed as she felt again the deaths of the two people she had most loved and trusted. With all her strength, she threw the memory out of her mind, pushing it blindly toward whatever was waiting outside.

Like a distant echo, Ranira felt a cry of anger and hurt that ended abruptly. With that, the pain, both emotional and physical, ceased. Uncertain whether the memory she had just relived was the product of the Temple attack or an unpleasant reaction of her own mind, she sagged against the base of a bush, ignoring the scratches that the twigs were inflicting. At least it was over. Her head hurt, she was drenched in sweat, and she felt exhausted. It was a moment before she realized that someone was speaking to her.

“What’s the matter? Why was everyone yelling? Renra, are you all right?” Shandy was standing next to her, and she was surprised to see that the boy was in tears.

“I’m all right now,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. Her voice creaked as if it had not been used in days. She decided to try again. “It is over now, Shandy. But I am hungry again. Is there anything left to eat?”

Shandy nodded eagerly and scuttled off. Ranira sighed and put up a hand to straighten her veil. Only then did she realize that she was holding something. Puzzled, she lowered her hand without touching the veil, and opened it.

A dim glow hung like mist or fog around the white stone. She dropped it as if it were a Temple snake, then scrabbled desperately after the stone, afraid she would lose it in the leaves. She retrieved it easily and held it gingerly for a moment, wondering how Mist’s gem had come into her hand. Automatically she turned to look for Mist.

The healer lay unconscious beside her, one arm outstretched as if in protest. A thread of blood traced a line from the corner of her mouth to the ground. Ranira would have believed the woman dead if she had not seen the folds of Mist’s robe slowly shifting in the moonlight as her breath came and went.

She stretched a hand toward Mist, then paused. The last time the Temple had attacked, Mist had gone into some sort of trance, and Arelnath had not tried to rouse her. This did not look much like a voluntary trance, but Ranira hesitated.

Perhaps Mist should be left alone now as well. Still undecided, she turned to look for Arelnath.

The Cilhar woman was sprawled across Jaren, but even as Ranira watched, she began to stir. Ranira was starting to crawl toward them when Shandy reappeared. “There’s a little of the last chicken, and I found a bush with redberries on it. What are you doing with that thing?” the boy said, frowning disapprovingly at the dimly glowing white stone.

“Waiting for Mist to wake up,” Ranira said. “Stay here a moment, Shandy. I want to talk to Arelnath.”

“That thing’s magic,” Shandy said, ignoring Ranira’s instructions. “You should throw it away. Magic is dangerous.”

“Magic is dangerous? Oh, Shandy.” Ranira laughed a little hysterically.

“What is all the amusement about?” a weak voice said from behind Shandy. “I could use a laugh right now. Oh, my head.”

Ranira stopped laughing and pushed past Shandy to where Arelnath was shakily sitting up. “On second thought, don’t tell me,” the woman said as Ranira reached her. “If I laugh now, my head will probably explode. You seem to have come through all right,” she observed a little enviously. “How is Mist?”

“She is alive, but she is unconscious again,” Ranira replied. “I didn’t want to try waking her, because I wasn’t sure whether she was doing it on purpose or not.”

“On purpose?” Arelnath shook her head, then winced. “Oh, you mean the life-trance. Just a moment, and I will see.” She moved to crawl in Mist’s direction. Ranira was appalled to see how weak she seemed. Ranira slid around to touch Shandy’s shoulder as Arelnath bent over Mist.

“Were there more of the redberries?” Ranira asked in a low voice.

“Lots,” Shandy said. He looked over at Arelnath, who was too preoccupied with her companion to notice. “You sure you want me to get more for them?”

“Shandy!” Ranira was shocked. “They have helped us over and over. We never would have gotten out of Drinn if Mist hadn’t healed my leg and then held the snakes off while Jaren and Arelnath towed us through the river.”

“And Jaren got bit by a snake, and Mist was too sick to walk afterward,” Shandy said. “They’re witches, and Chaldon doesn’t like witches.”

“Well, I do not like Chaldon,” Ranira snapped. “Or his Temple. What is the matter with you, Shandy? You act as if you would be glad to see the Temple guards catch us all.”

“Not you, Renra!” Shandy said, horrified. “Just the witches. Witches are bad luck.”

“Mist and Arelnath say I’m a witch, too,” Ranira said angrily. “I suppose if they turn out to be right, you will give us all to the Temple and go off to enjoy yourself while they burn us. There is probably a big reward.”

“Ah, Renra,” Shandy said in genuine distress. “I wouldn’t do that. Anyway, you aren’t any witch. They’re wrong.”

“Maybe.” Ranira was beginning to wonder, but this was hardly the time to explain to Shandy. She fingered the white stone absently as she looked at him. “Letting them starve would be just as bad. Maybe worse. You wouldn’t have to watch if you turned them over to the Temple.”

“I told you I wouldn’t do that!” Shandy said sullenly. “I don’t blab to the Temple. I didn’t mean to starve them either. I brought the chickens back, didn’t I?”

“You don’t think about what you are saying enough,” she told him. “Go get the redberries. Or if you don’t want to, tell me where they are and I’ll get them.”

“Ah, Renra,” Shandy said disgustedly. “I’ll go.” Ranira thought she heard him mutter something about magic as he walked, but she was not certain, so she let him go without saying anything more. She watched until he disappeared among the bushes, then turned back to Arelnath and Mist.

Arelnath was watching her. “Problems?” she asked as Ranira reached her side.

Ranira sighed. “I don’t think Shandy likes you very much. I don’t know why. He wasn’t acting like this in Drinn.”

“Drinn was his home,” Arelnath said. “There, he was our guide. We could not have remained hidden for an entire day without his help, and he knew it. Now he feels insecure, for he is no longer necessary. Is it any wonder he resents us?”

Ranira said nothing. Arelnath’s analysis was uncomfortably close to what she herself had been thinking, and she had the uneasy feeling that the other woman knew it. She almost missed Arelnath’s next sentence.

“I think, too, that Shandy is jealous of us,” Arelnath went on.

“Jealous?” Ranira frowned. “Why should he be jealous?”

“Shandy sees you worrying about Mist and helping us,” Arelnath replied. “You were a special friend to him in Drinn, were you not? It is not surprising that he feels threatened, when his best and only friend turns away from him to strangers. And witches as well—which makes it worse.”

“I will have to talk to him,” Ranira said. She was surprised by Arelnath’s explanation, but she could see how it fit Shandy’s behavior. Still, he should know better. Did he think she was going to forget two years of friendship just because the three foreigners had helped her? “How is Mist?” she asked.

“Badly hurt, but alive,” Arelnath replied. “Your help was at least that much use. I think we should try to wake her; this is no willing trance.”

“Will this help any?” Ranira asked, holding out the white stone. Its steady, unexplained glow made her uneasy. She was suddenly anxious to be rid of it.

“Mist’s moonstone! What were you doing with that?” Without waiting for an answer, Arelnath took the stone from Ranira’s hand and frowned at it. There was no trace of the chain that had suspended it from Mist’s neck. Arelnath threw a puzzled glance at Ranira, then ran her hand around Mist’s neck. Almost at once, she lifted the glinting, threadlike chain from the folds of Mist’s gown.

The puzzled expression on Arelnath’s face deepened. She brought the dimly glowing stone close to the chain, and to Ranira’s eyes the two seemed to leap out of Arelnath’s hands. There was a barely audible click as chain and stone met. Then the moonstone was dangling from the chain once more. Arelnath released her hold on the chain, and the necklace slid out of sight again.

“That should help a little,” Arelnath said. She reached under Mist’s body and winced as she tried to move the other woman. Ranira hurried to help, glad to be of some use. Between the two of then, they succeeded in bringing Mist back to consciousness, but only just. The healer was disoriented and spoke only a few words, which made no sense at all to Ranira. They managed to feed her a few of Shandy’s redberries before she slipped into unconsciousness again, but they could not rouse her a second time.

Arelnath abandoned her efforts to reawaken Mist just as Shandy returned. She accepted the boy’s grudging offer of the redberries he had collected, then lay down beside Jaren once more and quickly fell asleep. Ranira, still munching redberries, was surprised and disturbed; Arelnath was not a consistently pleasant companion, but she had always seemed energetic. The Temple attack must have been more wearing than Ranira had supposed.

A snore from beside Ranira broke in on her thoughts—Shandy, too, had fallen asleep again. There would be no talking to the boy tonight. She might as well go to sleep herself. Feeling singularly dissatisfied, she finished the berries and curled up on the ground next to him.

C
OLD SUNLIGHT SIFTING THROUGH
the bushes woke Ranira. She shivered as the last shreds of the nightmare evaporated, and the movement brought her fully awake. With a sigh, she relaxed. At least this time the dream—a black-clad man with dagger in hand, chasing her while Gadrath watched—had not been vivid enough to make her scream and disturb the others. A strand of hair tickled her nose as she sat up—her braid needed to be remade. She put the dream out of her mind and looked around.

Arelnath was already awake, sitting beside Jaren and absently chewing redberries. The cause of her abstractedness was not immediately obvious, and Ranira hesitated to break the silence. She shifted uneasily. The faint rustle of movement brought Arelnath’s head around.

“He is worse again,” Arelnath said without preamble. “I do not think he will last four days. It has only been one and a half since he was bitten.”

“It is the cold and the traveling,” Ranira said. “It weakens him and makes the poison act more quickly. If we could find a place to stay…”

“With Temple guards chasing us? It would be death for us all if we stayed in one spot more than a night.”

A rustle in the bushes beside Arelnath announced Shandy’s arrival. “Renra! I thought you’d wake up soon. I brought you some more berries.”