From a High Tower (27 page)

It examined
her,
in that moment. Examined every nuance of thought, every hint of feeling. Scoured the moment, looking . . . looking . . . for something.

The memory inched forward, to the next moment, when the sylphs had told her that the Hauptmann was not moving.

Once again, she felt everything about that memory being scoured, examined, taken apart, reexamined.

The memory inched forward, slowly, agonizingly, those all-seeing Eyes watching, watching for . . . what? She couldn't tell. She was inside the memory, and yet outside of it. Experiencing it again, able to feel and think everything she had felt and thought at the time, and yet somehow outside of it, as much a spectator as that Being was.

Then she was out the window, and her memories sped up again, flying past, so that she could only recognize a moment here, a moment there, and in that recognition they were gone again.

Then she got a glimpse of the mountaintop of this morning, of the Great Air Elementals, of the Thunderbird, and then . . .

Then it was over. And she was back to being herself and not a compendium of remembrances, hanging in front of those fathomless eyes.

“Would you have done what you did a second time?”

The Being didn't just mean inadvertently killing the Hauptmann. It meant
everything.

“Without knowing what I know now, how would I have been able to change anything?” she asked, honestly. “I am absolutely responsible for the death of that man, no matter what Rosamund and Tante Gretchen say. But without having had some way to see the future, I don't know what else I could have done besides allow myself to be . . .” She choked on the word. She still couldn't bear to say it. “I can be responsible, regret it, and still know I would have had to act to save myself, all at the same time!” she said, at last. “And I
am
responsible, and I
do
regret it, and I wish there was a way to change it. But not at the cost of letting myself become someone's victim.”

“Interesting.”

“It is the truth,” she said, meeting those Eyes squarely.

“It is.”
There was a very, very long silence.

“I will never, ever, ask an Elemental to harm someone again,” she said into that silence. “If harm is to be done, I will do it myself. It is not fair to ask
them
to be used as a weapon. If I had the chance to do that over again, that is what I would do.”

“Ahhhhhhhhh.”
Another long silence.
“And if they elect to provide . . . aid . . . on their own?”

“I don't know.” How to answer
that
question? “I suppose it would depend entirely on what was happening. I think I would try to prevent them from hurting another human but . . . I don't know.” She felt absolutely helpless. What was the right answer? Was there a right answer? “Coercing them to keep them from harming someone is still coercion! I won't do that! I won't! They are free creatures and how can I enslave them even if I think it's for their own good? How is that right?”

“How, indeed.”

“Friends are not slaves,” she said, finally. “And no friend would make another a slave. That's all I know.” She looked deeply into those Eyes. “I'm not very wise. I'm not very old. I'm often not right. But I . . . try my best to
do
what is right.”

“You have been heard.”

The
sound
came again, and the Being . . . dissolved away. And she dissolved into sleep.

I
N
the morning, she wasn't sure if she had passed or failed her tests. But Air Magic came to her just as easily, and there were pixies frisking about the inside of the
vardo
when she pulled back the bed-curtain, so she could only assume with that evidence that at least she had not failed.

The feeling of uncertainty passed, as the camp woke around her and everyone went back to the daily business of the shows. She incorporated the card-cutting trick into her act that very day, but the whole time, during her turns and in the breaks, she thought about what that Being had asked her. And what she had, more or less, promised.

That was when she decided that yes, there
was
something she could do that would keep her from ever having an Air Elemental in the position of having to decide to kill for her.

And that was, to make sure she had such control over her
own
powers that if any killing was to be done, she would be the one with the skills and the will to do it.

And that meant no more relying on the sylphs or the other Air Elementals to help her with things she could control herself. It was time to learn how to control every single aspect of Air, from snuffing a candle to calling a storm. After all, it was just a matter of control and practice, right?
And how do you become good at anything?
she reminded herself.
Practice, practice, practice.

The entire run at Bad Schoensee was a success. And the two weeks in the sun and under clear skies did wonders for everyone. It was quite clear at this point that the folks who hailed from the American plains had very much missed the sun; everyone was more cheerful, from the cooks to the band. The buffalo fattened up on the lush meadow grasses, and became even more docile thanks to Rosa's intervention with them. The horses acquired glossy coats and a definite spring to their step, even the ones used for “bronco busting.” By the time they were ready to pack up and leave for their next venue, they were all more rested and in better fettle than when they had arrived, despite the two weeks of two shows every day.

Their next destination was Todtnau, another alpine village. Between here and there . . . was more dense forest. But they headed out on their journey feeling more than ready to deal with the dark and gloom for a couple of days.

It helped that the forest they wound their way through on the first day was cut back from the road a bit, and there was none of that
uncanny
feeling about it. Every time Giselle looked up from her book to make sure her horses weren't lagging, she caught glimpses of sylphs, pixies, and zephyrs among the trees. Probably there was just as high a population of Earth Elementals, she just wasn't seeing them.

They found a sunlit meadow big enough to make a decent camp in halfway between Bad Schoensee and Todtnau. There was no water source in the meadow itself, but there was a spring not so far up the valley that it was
too
much effort to get the water barrels filled with the help of a wagon and horses. The more that they traveled, the more Giselle was glad she had chosen a
vardo
to live in, instead of a tent. While the
vardo
could get a little stuffy once the sun was beating down on it, and she certainly was a bit short on room, setting up at a campsite was merely a matter of parking where she was directed to go and unharnessing the horses to take them to the common area for tying up overnight.

Because she could set up so quickly, Giselle got in her practice before supper, and afterward had been planning on an extended read in Rosa's Bruderschaft book. But Rosa had other plans in mind, it seemed, for she rounded up not only Giselle but Captain Cody as soon as dinner was over.

Giselle followed her when she beckoned, and the two of them caught the Captain just before he left the mess tent. “I wanted you both to see something,” Rosa said, looking mysterious. “Someone. Both, really. He lives not too far away from here.”

“Someone who's also some
thing?”
Cody said quizzically, tilting his hat back on his head. “Now y'all got my attention.”

Rosa grinned. Giselle reflected that there was a lot less verbal prodding going on between them, now, which made things much more pleasant all around. During their time in Bad Schoensee, it seemed she had gotten tired of “testing” him—or was satisfied with her results. “Come along, then, it will be worth your while,” she said. “It's a nice walk, and I promise that there won't be any
Vilis
along the way.”

The Captain mock-shuddered. “Iffen I never see another of them, it'll be too soon,” he admitted. “But . . . walkin'? Couldn't we ride?”

She shook her head. “Not advisable. Where we're going is fine for walking, but if the poor horse shied or slipped, it would mean a dead horse.”

He shook his head. “Hang if I know why you people like walkin' so much, but all right. I'm game.”

Rosa led the way up the path that led to the spring, shouldering a rucksack that she picked up from her
vardo
on the way. Light tree cover began right at the edge of the clearing, but it looked as if people camped here regularly, so the path was well trodden and clear. The trees were in full leaf now; they were just into June and proper summer. There were flowers in the meadow, and even things like violets under the trees, and as an Air Master Giselle was acutely sensitive to their delicate perfumes.

The path itself was not beaten down to hard earth, just flattened grass, which was nice for the feet. Rosa was right, it was a very pleasant walk, and even better, it didn't get appreciably cooler or damper as the sun dropped behind the mountains. This valley evidently held the sun most of the day, which meant it kept some of the warmth well into the night.

The spring gurgled out of a cleft in the rock only about a foot off the ground and formed quite a respectable stream. Once they reached the spring, the path traveled alongside the swiftly flowing stream that it fed. The water looked very inviting, and Giselle stopped just long enough to scoop up a handful to drink. She expected it to be cold, but it was just pleasantly cool. The stream descended into a steep gorge, but the path continued along the edge, with the cliff to their left and the upward slope of the mountain to their right.

I can see why she said no horses.
The path was quite narrow: perfectly safe for humans to walk on single-file, but one slip and a horse would have been over the edge of the gorge. Giselle caught glimpses of little Air Elementals flitting through the branches of the trees growing up the slope, watching her with avid curiosity, and to her surprise, also caught sight of small Earth Elementals in the underbrush. The latter paid no attention to her, of course, but she was rather surprised that she could see them at all, since they were trying to remain hidden. Perhaps this was another manifestation of her increased powers?

At any event, just as the sky overhead began to darken a little as a herald to sunset, they reached a gray stone bridge that spanned the gorge. It looked old, very old. She couldn't figure out what style it was, who could have built it, and almost as importantly,
why
they would have done so out here in the middle of nowhere. It was only wide enough for a single person, but it did have low curbs on either side. Ferns grew up all around it, and probably down the side of the gorge as well. Here Rosa halted them.

“Stand back, and don't do anything,” she cautioned, and putting two fingers into her mouth gave a peculiar, shrill whistle.

The sound echoed down into the gorge. A few birds flew up out of it, startled by the noise, but for a moment nothing else happened.

Then . . . another sound altogether echoed up out of the depths of the gorge. It sounded like . . . rocks scraping together. Giselle cocked her head to one side and glanced over at Rosa. Rosa gazed at the gorge, not at all alarmed, but as if she had been expecting this very thing.

After a few moments of this, something came up over the edge. It looked like a huge rock . . .

...no, it looked like a huge
head . . .
and she nearly jumped out of her skin as she recognized it from tales and Rosa's book.

Holy Mother of God! It's a
troll!

“Jumpin' Jesus . . . what the
hell?”
Cody said, but not terribly loudly, though he had one hand on the pistol he always wore, though what use a little lead slug would be against a
troll
Giselle could not imagine.

But Rosa was practically skipping
toward
the creature, a huge smile on her face.

Well obviously . . . this is what she wanted us to see.

“Pieter!” she cried, as the troll heaved the last of his bulk up over the edge of the gorge, and simply stood there, grinning at her. “Pieter, it has been too long!”

The troll looked like nothing more or less than a statue hewn roughly out of granite, with a little moss for hair. It had a huge bulbous nose, and when it smiled, even its teeth looked like two rows of rocks. It was clothed, more or less, in a shapeless garment that looked as if it had been made out of bark.

“Greetings, Red Cloak,”
the creature rumbled. Its voice sounded like rocks tumbling down a hillside, and yet, somehow, Giselle could understand it.
“Pieter has been very, very good. Pieter has not frightened anyone, and Pieter has only eaten goats Pieter got from Pieter's own flock.”

“You
have
been good!” Rosa exclaimed. “Pieter, these are my friends. This is Giselle,” she continued, waving her hand at Giselle. “And this is Cody.”

“Friends of Red Cloak? Hunters?”
the troll asked. He raised his head a little, and stared at them, eyebrow slowly rising.

“No, not Hunters, but they have Power.” Rosa gestured to the two of them to come closer to the troll. Trusting her friend completely, Giselle stepped right up, close enough to touch the creature. Cody was a little more wary, staying the length of the troll's arm away. From close up, the troll was . . . somehow less intimidating. She shouldn't have been able to make out an expression on his rocky face, and yet, she could. It was benign. She would have said, gentle, if she hadn't been standing underneath a towering form that was at least four times as tall as she was.

“Remember that I said that you couldn't always tell if an Elemental was good or bad? Pieter is a case in point. Most trolls are incredibly dangerous. Pieter, on the other hand, has been an ally of the Bruderschaft for centuries.” Rosa patted Pieter's hand, which lay on the ground beside her and was nearly as big as she was. Pieter's arms were very much longer than his stubby legs, so as he stood there, his hands were palm-down on the ground.

“Pieter is old,”
Pieter agreed, nodding slowly.
“Pieter guards the bridge. Pieter keeps bad things from crossing.”

“Trolls are traditionally found around bridges, and usually demand a toll of something living to cross it,” Rosa continued. “Pieter, on the other hand, has been a shepherd for as long as I am aware. The Brotherhood brings him goats, or sometimes he buys them when he needs to replenish his herd. When any of us gets into trouble around here, and we're being chased, we lead our pursuer here, to the bridge, and Pieter usually makes short work of them.”

“Pieter guards the bridge,”
Pieter agreed.

“Can I touch you?” Giselle asked, fascinated.

Pieter nodded and made a vague noise; there were no words in it, but the general tenor was that he was fine with being touched. Giselle reached out and touched his hand. It felt exactly like sun-warmed rock. “Are you made of rock?” she asked, looking up into his craggy face. He had a nose like an elongated boulder, a split below it for a mouth, and two solid black orbs under overhanging moss-covered juts for eyes. His . . . skin, if you could call it that, was the texture of a water-worn boulder, a bit rough, but not unpleasantly so. Only his eyes were shiny, but despite the fact that they were as black as night, they somehow looked kindly.