Keepers of the Flame (18 page)

“I
thank you again for Summoning the Exotique Medica,” Cley said.

“Keeping
the Exotiques has always been a problem,” Sevair reflected as he thought of the
battle ahead. He and the other City and Townmasters had gone ’round and ’round
that issue. What if the one they Summoned was the one to return? So far
Lladrana had been lucky, or fought hard, to ensure that the Exotiques stayed.
Someday luck would run out.

The
farmer looked at him, a slight smile curving his lips and showing in his eyes.
“Ayes, I know people and that Exotique Medica I saw is the type who is always
on the move, never still.” He snorted, shook his head. “Purple hair.”

Sevair
winced.

K
oz smiled at
Bri, quick and charming, and it lit his eyes. He leaned back against the red
leather of the booth and swallowed a mouthful of ale. When he was done, he
said, “You are the only one who’s ever asked me how it felt to have my mind and
soul transferred to a different body.”

Bri
blinked. “Really?”

He
nodded. “Really. Marian doesn’t like to talk about it. Since it bothers Marian,
no one else does. Not one Circlet or medica. Guess they think it would bother
me, too.” Shifting in his seat, he said, “It was a traumatic day all around.”
He grimaced. “She calls me Koz, but still thinks of me as Andrew.”

“Aren’t
you Andrew?”

“Mostly.”
He thumped his chest. “But the body is Lladranan, and Koz.” He shrugged. “I
have some shadow memories of the Koz-soul.” Sadness draped his features. “He
loved his Pairling, his Shield, very much.”

“How
does it feel?” Bri went back to her original question.

He
straightened. Fire lit his eyes. “Good. It feels
good
.” Then he raised a
hand. “No, it feels
great
. I had multiple sclerosis, my body was
deteriorating. It was only a matter of time before I had to make choices.”

Bri
understood that suicide was often a decision MS sufferers chose. Her throat
closed. She took another sip of tea, let it trickle down, warm her, soothe her.

“And
now?”

Koz
stretched luxuriously, as if savoring the extension of every muscle, the
stretch of every tendon. “Koz was in prime shape.” His grin flashed again. “A
little older than me, but I didn’t mind that at all. He had an athletic life as
a Chevalier in Alexa’s household. Andrew’d contracted MS early, had never been
able to be active.” He inhaled deeply, expanding his muscular chest, let the
breath out through flared nostrils. “Lots of room in here.”

Then
he tapped his head. “Hadn’t developed as much brain power. I could
feel
new synapses linking.”

“You
had muscle and motor memory, of course.”

“Yeah,
and learning that was tough, too. How to walk like a healthy Lladranan, while
my mind remembered creeping around with canes. I worked out like crazy those
first months, pushed the physical limits of the body, just to determine them.”
Again he slapped his chest, grinned. “Now all circuits are fully integrated.”

“I
didn’t see the Lorebook of Exotique Koz in my to-be-read stack.”

He
stared at her in surprise. “I didn’t write one.”

Elizabeth
wasn’t the only one fascinated with medicine, interested in new techniques, the
only one who’d received the “love of learning” gene from their parents. “Write
it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”
Bri swallowed the last of her tea. There was no pot on the table to refresh the
drink; she waggled her cup. “So, what’s good here?”

“I
like the ale. Marian goes for the mead. More tea?”

“No
thanks.” Not yet. She’d have to look up and study the monsters before she left,
planned on being pleasantly tipsy before she did. “Where’s our food?”

As
if waiting for that signal, the burgers were slid in front of them. Bri’s plate
had a colorful side of steamed vegetables, some of which she didn’t recognize.
She speared a long green thing that wasn’t quite a green bean or pea pod.
Chewed. Yum.

Pointing
her fork at Koz, she said, “Tell me stories.”

He
gestured to a door across the way, at the end of the bar. “There’s a room full
of banners and plaques of the ones who have died fighting in the last three
years.”

She
swallowed hard, ordered ale. “Let’s start with cheerful stories.” Then she
turned and looked at the bar, catching most of the Chevaliers there off-guard
staring at her. Waving her fork, she said, “All of you tell me stories of
Lladrana.”

T
hough Sevair was
not much of a landsman, he and his coach driver helped the family with their
evening chores. Later they sat at the table when the Song of thanks was sung
and ate the dinner another daughter who’d stayed home had prepared. Countryfolk
supped early and Sevair walked in the evening while his coachman and horses
rested before the trip back to Castleton.

When
he looked west, the city was a few slight spires and towers in the distance.
The spires from the large church he was decorating, the towers of the old city
wall that he’d repaired, or new in the south of the city as it had grown, that
he had helped build. His heart tightened. He loved the place. His parents had
died when he was sixteen and in his last year as a journeyman, and he’d
transferred all his caring to the town. The town would never abandon him like
his sister and his parents, never fail him. Another shard of pain as he thought
of the young man who was now the Master for the Dark. He had not seen the
youth’s underlying weakness, the crack that made a piece of stone worthless for
sculpting.

He’d
begun to care about that one, too, and had been betrayed for the worst evil in
the universe.

Now,
for whatever reason, he felt a fascination for the Exotique Medica, Bri. He,
too, knew her sort—free as the wind, ignoring ties—yet he’d heard the twins
were adamant that they must return to the Exotique land because of their
parents. That spoke of love and loyalty.

But
he watched the sun send shafts of light onto his work in the city and reclaimed
his serenity. He had done his best with Jumme, as he did his best with every
responsibility set on his shoulders.

The
town dimmed into the shade of sunset and now the Marshalls’ Castle was lit with
gold, a tumble of large blocks. When the sun moved lower and the shade on the
Castle and the town moved to dark, he didn’t like the symbolism and turned
away.

As
he walked back to the house, he noticed patches of small-leafed groundcover,
the green-gray stuff that had begun appearing in the city parks, neighborhood
squares and rounds this spring. The flowers were tiny white bells. He stopped.
This was new, as were the potatoes that the Exotiques had brought.

Had
the previous Exotiques carried with them seeds of something else? Was this
Exotique stuff? He’d read their Lorebooks. Alexa had come from a snowy place,
still winter in her land. Marian had arrived nude from her city dwelling. But
Calli had been Summoned in full summer, from the outdoors.

He’d
seen the plant often. Something Exotique, or something worse? Something else
sent from the Dark? Like the horrors. Like the sangviles. Like the frinks.

The
frinks that fell with the rain. Small metallic worms, most of which died when
they hit the ground. Some that didn’t. He’d always been the most wary of men
with regard to the frinks.

He
narrowed his eyes, picked up a long branch and combed through the sprigs of the
plant.

A
puff of spores released, glinting in the evening. Sickness could be caused by
plants, couldn’t it? The runny eyes and stuffed nose and headaches some people
experienced during the spring and fall. He worked at the plant, uncovering the
top tangle of leaves to see underneath where nothing else grew. Bare earth was
revealed, along with the shine of something metallic that caught the last ray
of the dying sun.

With
his stick, he separated it out, a small circular section of a frink.

His
heart lurched, settled, but fear poured through his veins.

Animal
couldn’t turn to vegetable. Not usually.

But
the frinks weren’t animal, they were horrors. Who knew the limits of the Dark?
Certainly not he. Couldn’t a frink carry a seed with it? Embedded in its body,
perhaps?

He
had to tell others about this. Now.

His
jaw set. The sooner he reported this to the Castle, the sooner the whole of
Lladrana could be on the watch for this demon-weed and eradicate it. They’d
have to find a way to destroy it. Now. Fast.

It
seemed even as he watched, new sprigs unfurled from the main stem. How much of
this stuff was in Lladrana?

He
shouted for his coachman, and the man came running. Stopped several feet from
him, looking wary.

“I
must return to Castleton immediately. I can’t wait for you. Come later at your
own speed.”

“But…but…”
the man sputtered.

Sevair
cut him off with a gesture. “Warn the farmer and his family to avoid these
patches of vegetation.” Sevair pointed to the inoffensive-looking plant. “Frink
spawn.”

His
coachman, who had been peering bewilderedly at the spot, snapped upright and
took a step back. He saluted, old habits of a Castle soldier. “How will you—”

But
Sevair’s mind had already solved that problem. He called mentally
Mud!

There
was a slight hesitation, then a cheerfully excited,
Citymaster?
from the
volaran.

I
need you here, now! Can you come to my Song?

Ayes!
Night flying!

He
thought he could almost hear her hooves kick against the latch of her stall,
open the door.

I
come!

T
he rest of Bri’s
meal passed in good company, and with her openness, Chevaliers came and went at
their table. As light globes came on in the corners of the room, Bri knew that
time passed. The door opened and let in darkness and cold air. Koz finally left
since he was on rotation to fly to the next battle, making it evident with a
kiss on her hand that he wanted to be more than friends.

With
a challenging gaze, one of the male Chevaliers said, “This isn’t the only
tavern in Lladrana.”

She
stared at him. Obviously a test of her mettle. A pub crawl. She snorted. As if
she hadn’t done that a few times. She shoved her mug away. “All right.” She
stood and he did, too. He was much taller. “Show me,” she said.

The
tavern roared with laughter and bets. Bri had no intention of getting drunk,
she’d just buy—have someone else buy—a drink and take a swallow or two.

On
her way out she stopped and looked up again. The magic light let her study the
monsters, assess their size, all larger than men, and their danger—deadly.

Then
she was swept away. The hour—hours?—grew later and the stars shimmered through
mist veiling them and the velvet black sky.

Most
of the other off-duty Chevaliers, including her challenger, lasted through four
taverns, and Tuckerinal had dragged along.

When
Bri and the ex-hamster exited the last club alone, she giggled in tipsy
triumph. Blinking, she realized she had no idea where she was.

Before
she could ask Tuckerinal, a large hawk lit on the top of a nearby fence and
chittered at him.

My
mate
,
he said.

I
am Sinafinal
,
the bird said.

Bri
blinked at the hawk. Its feathers seemed to have a deep blue sheen like nothing
she’d seen before.

The
bird clacked her beak, sending Bri a beady-eyed stare.
Tuckerinal should
have returned an hour ago!

“Not
my problem,” Bri said thickly. “Didn’t know that, did I? No.” She shook her
head.

She
and the hawk stared at each other. Then the world tipped a little and Bri
steadied herself with a hand against the cold stone wall of the tavern. A
flapping noise came and she watched another hawk land beside Sinafinal. This
one had a dark red
magical
color to its feathers. Tuckerinal.

The
two seemed to glow oddly, a
dark
glow, as if they gathered starlight and
absorbed it and the absence of the light wavered around them.

It
was a good night,
Tuckerinal said.

We
will talk later
,
Sinafinal said to Bri, then lifted into flight.
It is time
.

Bri
watched the two fey-coo-cus spiral up into the night sky and her breath caught.
They were very magical with that dark glow surrounding them, very beautiful. As
was the sky, with a brilliant arc of stars that could only be a tiny portion of
an arm of a galaxy. Twinkling points of light flung across midnight blue like
glittering diamond chips on a gauzy scarf. She stood there gazing into the sky
long after the birds disappeared.