Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (27 page)

Ranira and the others sat in silence until Mist was finished. Arelnath frowned thoughtfully the entire time, and as soon as Mist reseated herself, the Cilhar woman spoke. “I am sorry, Mist. I have no right to judge your choices.”

“It is not entirely your fault,” Mist said tiredly. “I told you that the Shadow-born is spreading his power into the land itself, and his influence is strong enough to affect us here. I should have recognized the cause of this at once. I think there will be a great deal of dissension among friends this night.”

“The Shadow-born is doing this?” Arelnath frowned again. “I did not think even he could reach us here without the power of Drinn behind him.”

“This spell is not aimed at us alone, and he cannot reach us directly,” Mist replied. “I do not think Chaldon is looking for us himself. Even if he is, the warding spells will help to hide us. No one must go beyond the edges of this clearing; the warding spells cannot stretch beyond that.”

“And be particularly careful after dark,” she added sternly. “Chaldon is strongest then.”

R
ANIRA AND
S
HANDY GATHERED
wood while Arelnath and Jaren hunted for edible plants. None of them found much. The journey-loaf was long gone, so they had to be satisfied with a mouthful of wine each.

What little wood Ranira and Shandy had been able to find wouldn’t light at all. “I do not understand it,” Arelnath said after the fifth unsuccessful attempt to start a fire. “The wood is dry. It should not be this hard to light.”

“This is more of the Shadow-born’s work,” Mist said. “It is not specifically directed at us, but I fear there will be worse to come. This will not be a pleasant night.”

“I thought your warding spells would stop this,” Arelnath said crossly.

“I am not skilled enough to deflect all of the Shadow-born’s malice without his knowing, and I would prefer to avoid a direct confrontation if I can,” Mist replied. “I would not be strong enough to defeat a Shadow-born even were I at the height of my abilities, which I am not. I can hide us from the eyes and ears of the Templemen, and I can keep most of Chaldon’s spells of dissent from affecting us, but no more.”

“You have done far more than anyone could have expected,” Arelnath said hastily. “I do not seek to criticize.”

Mist laughed. “I did not imagine you did. We are all tired, cold, and hungry. It does not take a Shadow-born’s interference to make tempers short at such a time.”

“And have you any remedy for this condition, healer?” Jaren asked politely. “Other than a hot meal, a large fire, and a soft bed, that is. I doubt we shall find any of those here.”

“Unfortunately, those are the best remedies I know for this particular ailment,” Mist said with a smile. “We will have to sit close together. If we cannot have a fire, it is the only way we can keep warm.”

Arelnath sat back from the wood with a sigh. “Well, I don’t think we are going to have a fire,” she said. She rose to her feet and stretched briefly, then sat down beside the healer, adjusting her sword so she could reach it more easily. Jaren joined her, and Shandy followed a moment later. Ranira shifted but did not rise. She was willing to acknowledge her friendship with the three foreigners, but she was not quite ready to accept them as intimates, and no one in Drinn would approach a veiled woman so closely on any other terms. She remained where she was.

Arelnath looked crossly at Ranira. “Oh, come on. Do you want to wait until the fog soaks you? It will take you twice as long to get warm then.” She waved at the cloudy wisps that were beginning to creep in and out among the trees. “You will be cold and damp by the end of the night.”

Mist looked at Ranira and smiled encouragingly. “Come, child. I would hear more of the customs of Drinn. You need not fear to join us.”

Ranira gave in, and seated herself among the others. They made a small, crowded ring on the ground. Arelnath draped Erenal’s cloak over Mist; it was large enough to also partly cover Shandy and Jaren, who were sitting on either side of her. It also blocked some of the dampness that was beginning to penetrate their clothing.

“What is it you wish to know?” Ranira asked the healer.

“I am curious about the Midwinter Festival,” Mist said. “Had we known more of it, we might not have been trapped so easily. What can you tell us?”

“The Midwinter Festival is old,” Ranira replied. “Far older than the Empire of Chaldreth; maybe even older than Drinn.” She paused uncertainly. “The Festival lasts seven days. No one can leave Drinn during that time, though anyone who lives within the boundaries of the Empire can come in. The first day there are no rituals, but for the last six days everyone in the city must go to the Temple of Chaldon for the rites.”

“Is Midwinter Festival the same everywhere in the Empire of Chaldreth?” Mist asked. Her eyes were intent.

“I think so. The Temple of Chaldon tries to get everyone to come to Drinn for Festival at least once every ten years.”

“So the entire Empire of Chaldreth is involved in this,” Mist said half to herself.

Ranira looked at her in surprise. “Of course. The Temple of Chaldon rules the Empire of Chaldreth. When there are changes in the rites, all of the lesser Temples must follow the rulings of the High Priest of the Temple in Drinn.” She hesitated for a moment. “All of the Temples offer sacrifices, though there was a time when only the Temple in Drinn did so. Drinn is still the only place which ever has a Bride of Chaldon, and even in Drinn it is not a common thing.”

“And is Drinn also the only city where no one is permitted to leave during Festival?”

“I don’t know. I have never been outside of Drinn for Festival.”

“I see.” Mist looked a little disappointed. “Tell me what you can of the rites in Drinn, then.”

Ranira spent some time describing the rites of the Temple of Chaldon to Mist. The healer questioned her closely, and she did not always seem pleased with the answers Ranira gave her. Eventually, Mist’s curiosity was satisfied, and Ranira was allowed to relax and attempt to sleep. This proved much more difficult than she had expected. The fog had thickened, making everyone just as damp and cold as Arelnath had promised. Insects that should have been in the middle of their winter rest appeared to bite and sting. Mist explained that this, too, was the work of the Shadow-born. The worst thing, for Ranira, was knowing that somewhere above the clouds and fog Kaldarin and Elewyth were both nearly full. Morning would bring the dawn of the last day of Midwinter Festival, when she would have been sacrificed to Chaldon as his Bride. Ranira shivered for most of the night, starting at every sound. At any moment, she was sure, a horde of Templemen would appear to drag her back to Drinn to face Gadrath and the altar.

Finally, Ranira managed a fitful doze. Almost at once she awoke, screaming. She looked around dazedly for the dark shape that had been pursuing her, but there was only the fog and the concerned faces of her companions.

“What is it?” Arelnath demanded.

“Only a dream,” Ranira said. Her voice was shaky; she tried again. “I am sorry I woke you all. It is bad enough trying to sleep out here without me making it worse, even if it has gotten warmer.”

“Warmer?” Arelnath said. “It hasn’t.”

Mist’s hand on Arelnath’s arm stopped the Cilhar woman in mid-sentence. “I think you had better tell us what frightened you.” Mist said. She looked at Ranira with a frown. “This is not the first time you have had such dreams, is it?”

“No,” Ranira admitted, thinking of her earlier nightmares.

“How often have they come to you?”

“Only since I left Drinn,” Ranira said after a moment’s thought. “You remember the first one—you said it was a Temple binding in my mind.” Her own words echoed around her, and Ranira looked at Mist in horror. “You said you had gotten rid of all the Temple spells! Didn’t you?”

“Calm yourself, Ranira,” Mist said. “I do not believe this is the work of the Temple of Chaldon. Tell me what you have dreamed since we left Drinn, and when, and perhaps then I can explain with some certainty.”

Uneasily, Ranira recalled her dreams. The nightmares rose before her eyes with vivid clarity. She began describing them, and Mist listened closely. When Ranira finished, the healer nodded.

“It is as I suspected,” she said. She looked closely at Ranira. “You are a Seer. It is a rare talent.” Arelnath’s low whistle of astonishment echoed Mist’s words. Ranira looked from one to the other.

“Seer? What is that?” she asked. “And why hasn’t this ever happened to me before?”

“A Seer is… one who knows the truth of things which are happening elsewhere,” Mist replied. “From what you describe, I fear the Temple of Chaldon is not finished with us. Have you never had true dreams before?”

True dreams?
“Not until I left Drinn,” Ranira said.

“Then something has wakened the talent in you since then.” Mist thought for a moment. “I suspect it is the magic you have been exposed to in the past few days. The Temple of Chaldon began the process with their drugs and binding spells, and my healing and warding spells have continued it. Your barriers against magic must be weakening.”

“But I don’t want to be a witch,” Ranira protested half-heartedly. She thought of the formless darkness that had chased her through her nightmares, and shuddered. “Can’t you stop it somehow?”

“You can no more deny your talents than you can change the color of your eyes,” Mist said. “But you can refuse to use them. It would be a pity if you did, but the choice is yours.”

“I—I see,” Ranira wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled into them.

After a moment, Mist sighed and turned toward Arelnath. “Try to sleep; it is not long until dawn.”

“Someone must keep watch,” the Cilhar woman reminded Mist. “You sleep.”

“It is your watch? I had forgotten,” Mist murmured. She shifted, settled back, and her breathing slowed.

Ranira stared unseeing into the darkness, her thoughts in turmoil. Magic seemed to be forcing its way into her life whether she willed it or not, and she was not sure whether she was glad or sorry. All her training revolted against her knowledge of what she was and could be, yet she could not deny her power or her dreams. How could she, when her own mind betrayed her as soon as she slept?

Indeed, how long had she been using her power without knowing it? Ranira thought back. She had known where Shandy would find the foreigners after he pulled her out of the river. And there were other things… But did it matter? Outside the Empire of Chaldreth, it seemed, witches were not feared and hated and burned.

For the first time, Ranira wondered what would happen to her if she actually managed to escape the Empire of Chaldreth completely. The idea frightened her; it refused to remain steady in her mind. Without intending to, her thoughts returned to the little circles of argument that were witchcraft and Drinn, magic and the Temple of Chaldon. She got very little sleep for the rest of the night.

When the gray light of morning dawned at last, it brought no comfort, and no sign of the Traders. Mist began pacing restlessly in spite of the chilling damp. Shortly after dawn, she announced her intention to go looking for Venran and his caravan. This declaration brought an immediate protest from Arelnath.

“None of us is strong enough to walk for very long,” Arelnath said. “And we are not even sure where Venran’s caravan is. If we hunt for them, we may miss him completely.”

“Something may have happened to him that will keep him from getting here in time,” Mist said. She glanced toward Ranira, who shifted uncomfortably.

“You will go out looking for Venran on the strength of Ranira’s dreams?” Arelnath said. “You cannot be serious. You can’t even be sure what they mean!”

Mist flushed, but she remained adamant. “What if Venran does not arrive before tonight? I
must
try to reach him before Chaldon strikes. If I wait, it may be too late.”

“And if he arrives here as soon as we are gone? You cannot be sure he won’t.”

“You do not understand,” Mist said softly. “I do not mean for you to come with me. You are correct; together we cannot move very rapidly. Alone, though, I have a much better chance of reaching us in time. And someone must stay here to explain to Venran if he arrives.”

“You cannot go out into Karadreme Forest alone,” Arelnath said firmly. “You will be lost as soon as you are out of sight. The Temple Speaker hired me to see that you return safely. I cannot let you do this.”

“The Temple Speaker does not know that the priests of Chaldon are going to attack him tonight with the power of a Shadow-born and a city full of people!” Mist replied in exasperation. “What else can I do to warn him?”

Arelnath considered. “Then, I am coming with you. I have at least a chance of guessing which direction Venran will be traveling; I have worked with him before.”

Mist shook her head. “You can tell me what you know, but you are not coming with me. We would go more slowly as two than I can travel alone. And you cannot leave the others alone here.”

Ranira almost resented Mist’s last words. Still, she had to admit that a boy, a former bondwoman with no fighting skills, and a weak and exhausted bodyguard would hardly be a match for another Templeman such as Erenal. “What if a Templeman finds you?” she asked the healer.

“I can weave spells enough to warn me if any such is near,” Mist replied. “Please, do not delay me further. I should have left last night.”

Arelnath shook her head. “And what of the spells that protect us here when you’re gone? I have not the skill to maintain them alone. You are right that I cannot leave Jaren and these others alone, but I cannot leave you, either. Would you have me forsworn?”

There was a long pause. “I will leave you my moonstone,” Mist said at last. “You can use it to trace me, if you need to. You have enough training for that, and I will set it to hold the protections until I return.” Her hands reached up to lift the golden chain from about her neck. She looked at it for a moment, then held it out to Arelnath.

“This means a great deal to you,” Arelnath said without touching the stone.