Exile's Return (Book 1) (55 page)

‘And now?’

Robert glanced at him evasively. ‘I still don’t understand how you came to the conclusion in the first place. The House Marks have been around so long now, most people ignore them completely. There’s never been any proof that there is a link with sorcery. Quite the opposite, in fact. However,’ Robert paused, his hand reaching up to lift the tassel from a scroll, ‘if we assumed from the beginning that the Marklord invented the Marks for a reason, then it might just make sense.’

‘Forgive me, brother,’ Finnlay said, ‘but I don’t follow your logic. How can that make sense?’

‘Well,’ Robert turned around with a grin, more like his old self than Patric had dared hope, ‘perhaps he wanted to identify several families in perpetuity in order to keep track of their offspring. It might have nothing to do with sorcery, but only property.’

Finnlay shook his head. ‘By why keep track? Why would you want to?’

But Patric had an answer. He darted around the bench and brushed his hair from his eyes. ‘Wait. If we assume for a moment that there is a connection between the Marks and sorcery – then the Marks would be a good means by which to ensure the Bondings.’

‘What?’ Robert looked startled for a moment, then burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I do like coming here, Pat! You’ve always got something new for me. It’s such a delight listening to you. You’re the only person I know who can conjure a complete theory of our history out of thin air!’

Still laughing, Robert bent to examine a shelf of bound books, but Patric wasn’t so easily put off. ‘Tell me, is Jenn still showing all the signs of enormous power?’

‘Yes. Why?’

Patric hardly knew why he’d asked the question. There was something there, nagging at the back of his mind, and he had no choice but to pursue it. ‘It makes sense to me. Remember, Bonding was a very important part of our history at one time. No marriages were performed unless the couples were Bonded. We know the Marklord worked with the earliest sorcerers, so why shouldn’t he create something like the House Marks? If Bonding was so vital, he’d want to make sure it continued, regardless of what happened. I know we lost a lot of our lore when the Enclave was founded and the rest of this library burned to ashes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Bonding no longer exists. After all, we don’t know what the Marks are for and yet they continue to persist in each generation.’

‘But,’ Finnlay objected, ‘we don’t even know what Bonding is. Who’s to say it wasn’t just a symbolic ceremony like betrothal is today.’

‘There’s nothing symbolic about betrothal, Finnlay,’ Patric argued. ‘In law it’s considered just as binding as marriage. There is a deeper meaning and function than simple ceremony. It was designed to join the incumbents together when they were too young to marry, to bind their families
together. A firm promise and contract for the future. Bonding could easily be the arcane equivalent, designed to make sure that two particular people would marry.’

‘Except for one thing,’ Robert pointed out. ‘We’re just assuming there’s a connection between the Marks and sorcery because we’re assuming that Thraxis and the Marklord are the same person – and that Thraxis created the Calyx specifically for sorcerers. We’re completely ignoring the three hundred years between them and basing one assumption on another without proof for any of it. The silver rod we found by accident is no guarantee that we are on the right track to find the Calyx – and we don’t even know that Thraxis put it in that damned cave. But even it if was all true – even if the Marklord did create the Marks to keep track of offspring, there’s no suggestion that he had anything to do with Bonding. That’s an ancient sorcerers’ tradition we know almost nothing about. The Marks still persist today, as does sorcery, but Bonding doesn’t. If you were right, Bonding would have no choice but to exist. Everyone with a House Mark would be a sorcerer and every sorcerer alive would be Bonded.’

‘Perhaps some are,’ Patric murmured, the words tumbling forward without thought. ‘Or rather, only those sorcerers with House Marks. I think you and Jenn are Bonded.’

Robert froze. His eyes grew flinty, his breathing was silent. Only the flickering oil lamp showed any signs of movement.

In the silence, Patric gathered his courage together and put forward his evidence. ‘Let’s look at it objectively. You help this girl out, save her from the Guilde. Next thing, it turns out she’s got talents. Before you can blink an eye, she’s split your
ayarn
then, just as you’re trying to work out what it all means, she puts the
ayarn
back together. Something happened there, Robert. Something important. Now you tell me she’s still growing in power and I suspect, doing things you aren’t even telling me about. Even Finnlay noticed some deeper level of communication between you and Jenn. I’ve only just seen it, the pattern going through all this. That business with your
ayarn
set and completed the Bonding,
just as though it had been a proper ritual. You both have House Marks, you’re the two most powerful sorcerers in the land – you have to be Bonded.’

As Robert’s face grew dark, Finnlay moved forward, suddenly nervous. He raised his hand. ‘Patric, I don’t think you should …’

‘No,’ Robert murmured, coming forward slowly, ‘I don’t think you should continue either.’

‘But you can’t close your eyes to the truth, Robert. Can all this be a coincidence? You said her powers are growing. Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything that would prove that I’m wrong? Please, go ahead. You know how I love to be set straight.’

‘Patric!’ Finnlay snapped, ‘Stop it. That’s enough.’

‘More than enough.’ Robert met Patric’s gaze for a long time, but there was no menace there. Only something deeper, like sorrow, but Patric couldn’t be sure.

Robert picked up the silver rod and tucked it in his belt. His voice heavy and weary, he said, ‘I was right: you spend too much time buried in your books. You know nothing about life outside, and so everything seems to have these neat little patterns to them – patterns you love to create. We know almost nothing about Bonding. “Setting”? “Completing”? How would you know? What if I hadn’t been there when she came through that forest? What if we’d never met? What if it had been Finnlay who’d tried Sealing her? How can Bonding still work under these kinds of conditions, and what’s the point of it anyway – especially after all these years? There is no history of sorcery in either my family or Jenn’s. How can the Marks and sorcery possibly be connected? I tell you, Patric, you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Patric took in a swift breath and moved closer to Robert, more certain now than ever before. ‘I may not know, Robert, but you do.’

Robert’s head jerked up – then Finnlay stepped between them. ‘Patric, I told you that was enough. Leave it alone.’

‘Why are you protecting him?’

‘Because he’s my brother, Patric,’ Finnlay replied with half a smile. He turned back to Robert then, the smile gone. ‘The council is waiting for you. They want to talk to you.’

‘Good,’ Robert nodded, the shadow in his eyes suddenly gone, ‘I want to talk to them, too. But first, I’m going for a walk. You can tell them I’ll be down soon.’

*

It was night. Patric hadn’t said anything about it being dark outside, so by the awesome display of stars visible from the mountain top took Robert by surprise. He stopped in the middle of the field and tipped his head back as far as he could, just to see it all in one go. The sight was breathtaking. The air was so clear and crisp, so much better for thinking than that inside the caves.

It all seemed to revolve around Jenn, didn’t it? The abductions, the mindspeech, the strange presence at court: everything. An odd fate for a girl who’d grown up far from here, knowing nothing of this world.

And now there was Patric. Bonding.

By the gods, no!

It was impossible that he and Jenn … that it could happen twice. And the last time Berenice … he’d killed her. And if he and Jenn were Bonded then would he kill her too? And all because the Key had said … that …

But Finnlay had said Robert had only assumed it was supposed to be Berenice. Hadn’t Finn said that the Key might have meant someone else?

Damn! The Key. Those two messages, dual curses, doubly damned. And why? So he could live his life alone, for ever controlling the demon within? The demon the Key had given him?

And why did the Key hate him so much, why did it want to manipulate him amd force him to do its bidding?

Serin’s blood, what did the Key want from him?

Gasping for air, Robert sank to his knees, buried his hands in the dew-covered grass. It was soft and cool, like fine-ground flour. He wanted to lie in it, like a child, to drown in that comfort just like that dream of the sea.

He shouldn’t keep asking why. There was no point. He would never get any answers without asking the Key – and he refused to approach it again. It would only inflict more damage, tell him more things he didn’t want to know, manipulate him again, impair his resolve to stay uninvolved …

And how uninvolved was he, really? The truth was, he was still in the middle of it, despite his efforts. No wonder they all refused to believe him, to leave him alone. And after what Jenn had said about needing to act?

Yes, it all came back to her, and Patric had been right about so many things. Was he right about this?

It didn’t matter. The Key had started all this, but just as he had all his life, Robert would resist it with his last breath. Just as he’d resisted the demon. It was the only way forward he had. The only way to defy the future the Key had given him. He had to stay uninvolved. He had to stay away from Jenn. More to the point, he had to keep her away from the Key. It was the only way to keep her safe.

Robert closed his eyes against the beautiful sky and shut it all out. He took a deep breath, and then another. He got to his feet, but felt no desire to go back and face the council. It was obvious what they wanted, and even more obvious what they would do. He would have to brace himself, put on that public face, once again be the man they all knew. He had no appetite for it, but standing out here in the chill air wasn’t going to help.

He turned for the tunnel, then paused. Perhaps this was a good time to try. Now, when there was no interruption, and where no one would see him.

He focused his mind clearly and precisely. Then, feeling new levels of energy course through his body, he sent out a single, silent word.

Jenny?

Nothing. It was too far. He couldn’t do it – but he had to. He had to make sure everything had worked out.

Again he focused his thoughts, drew in his breath. Tightly now, he unleashed the thought, pushing it every league of
the distance between them. He called her name. Again there was nothing … then suddenly—

Robert? By the gods, where are you? I thought you were going to the Enclave!

I’m standing on top of the Goleth right now. I had a quiet moment and thought I’d try. The distance is hard to push through, but it does work. I just wanted to tell you we made it safely. I’m about to go and speak to the council, but they already know the gist of what happened from Finnlay.

And your injuries?

All healed. Have you had any trouble? Did your father believe the story?

Yes. He was angry that I went with you but I expected that. But, I have to warn you. We’ve had the Guilde here, asking questions. They’ve sent Osbert down to Kilphedir to investigate and …

What?

They’re looking for a boy who was caught in the grounds of the prison.

Hell!

They don’t know it was me – but, Robert, you must be careful! Once they finish in the village, they’ll be on their way to Dunlorn to question you. You have to get back quickly. If they find you still haven’t returned they’ll assume the worst.

I’ll leave in the morning.

I wrote to your mother and Micah but I hope you tell them both the truth when you get back.

I’ll tell Micah the truth, but I can only afford to tell her Finn’s alive. It’s just not safe any more. Listen …

What?

I’m afraid I won’t be coming back – not for a long time. Perhaps never.

Silence.

Jenny?

I’m here. Why?

I can’t explain. I’m sorry.

Silence again.
Jenny? What’s wrong?

Nothing. You do what you have to do and don’t worry about
me. I’ll survive – I always do. Take care, Robert.
And just like that she was gone.

If this wasn’t Bonding, why did he suddenly feel so empty?

*

A single drop of wax tipped over the brim of the candle and slithered down the side, finally hardening on the pewter holder. It joined the yellow mess along the decorated rim standing testament to the long hours of discussion. Finnlay was mesmerized by the candle, watching every tiny movement of the flame as it danced and flickered with the currents of the air. Beside him he could hear the hum of murmured conversation, but after two hours of waiting for Robert, Finnlay found his attention drifting.

The council chamber was only half full now as many of the others had gone to bed. Besides Ayn, Wilf and Henry, Arlie Baldwyn, Patric and Acelin were still there, content to wait as long as necessary. Finnlay had endured their questions, their probing for answers he could only guess at. Robert would come soon, yes. He’d speak to the council – and then he would leave and return to Dunlorn. It was a luxury Finnlay would never have again.

A pang of regret and despair ran through him and he struggled against the bitterness which threatened to consume him. If only Robert had not fallen, if only they’d not seen his ring, if only he’d never found that damned manuscript in the first place …

And his
ayarn.
That too was lost. Well, he could always make another one, although he’d have to recover a little energy before he did. But the ring – his family ring – was gone for ever. Irreplaceable … and probably now in the hands of the Guilde. The only real evidence they had with which to damn him.

He could go on and on, but in the end, what difference would it make? He’d always known the danger of being a sorcerer, always been wholly aware of what would happen if he were ever found out. Somehow, however, he’d always assumed that if anyone would be discovered, it would be
Robert, rather than himself. It was strange how life worked its way through you.