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An avowed marking
.

“What the hell did you do?” Tiege asked.

“What needed to be done…brother.”

“It sure doesn’t make much of an impression,” Sophia said.

To her mind, the small, worn-down cottage in the middle of the jungle was a less than spectacular culmination to the arduous hike through the jungle. Vines covered almost the entire surface of the walls, some of which appeared to be crumbling. There were holes in the roof, the windows were only partially covered with broken shutters and the door stood partly ajar. The only welcoming element to the Scultresti’s home was the beams of moonlight filtering through the top of the tree canopy above them.

Melanthe waved a hand at Sophia’s comment. “That is just what the illusion wants you to think.”

Understanding, Sophia nodded. “Okay. Now what?”

“Now ye knock,” Derian said.

Realizing that they expected her to take the lead, Sophia blinked in surprise. They had seemed so familiar with the Scultresti that she assumed they would at least pave the way with an introduction.

“Oh,” she said, unable to think of another response. “Okay.”

Squaring her shoulders, she walked up to the door that appeared to be dangling from its hinges. She couldn’t help but consider the fact that at some point, her grandfather and Quincy had once taken these very same steps. That knowledge gave her the courage to knock.

“What is it?” came a male voice from the other side of the door.

“Um, hello. My name is Sophia. I wanted to—”

A hand suddenly reached out from behind the door, grabbed her upper arm and yanked her inside.

Her instincts almost had her shifting to protect herself, but she managed to control the impulse. She found herself standing alone in the middle of what was obviously
not
a poorly-maintained home.

She realized that a ball of light which hadn’t been visible from outside bounced on the ceiling. With a quick sweep of her eyes, she spotted a kitchen to her left with a neighboring dining area, a bed and nightstand to her right, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves straight in front her. Although she knew she should be focused on other things, her attention was captured by those books.

“Sophia, you said?”

The voice sounded from right behind her. She jumped and turned to face the Scultresti known as Hoygul.

He wasn’t all that much taller than her, a fact that surprised her. She had gone through life thinking that every male on the plane was exponentially bigger than her. It was something of a relief to not have to crane her neck to meet the male’s Scultresti-brown eyes. She noted that he wore a dark blue toga with brown sandals, and his strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. More importantly, his gaze was shrewd and assessing, but not aggressive.

She could do shrewd and assessing.

“Yes,” she said at last. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“You are not sorry to intrude, or you would not be here,” he argued.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m not sorry to intrude, though I do regret any inconvenience I’m causing you by being here.”

He studied her for a moment. “Very well. Continue.”

Wondering briefly what he would have said or done if she hadn’t given the response he sought, Sophia plowed gamely on. “I need the map to the library.”

Hoygul shook his head and made a tut-tut sound with his tongue. Walking over to his kitchen, he said, “And up to there you were doing so well.”

“I figured you would appreciate my honesty,” Sophia said, hoping she hadn’t already destroyed her chances of getting the map.

As Hoygul took a tea kettle and began filling it with water, he said, “Do you think I have no need or want for company?”

Feeling as though she was losing the thread of the conversation, Sophia looked around and said, “Well, I imagine you don’t get many visitors out here.”

“I receive plenty of visitors. Do you think those Mercesti out there know my location by mere happenstance?”

Sophia opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of an immediate rebuttal. For lack of anything better to say, she offered, “They’re a great group. How come you’ve never mentioned them to anyone?”

As he set the kettle over what appeared to be an unceasing flame in the small hearth beside the dining area, he said, “Will you mention them when all is said and done?”

Again, she floundered. Shaking her head, she said, “Only if they allow it.”

“There you have it.”

“Sir—”

“Hoygul.”

“Hoygul,” Sophia repeated. She struggled to catch up with him. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, she said, “You once helped my grandfather. Do you suppose you could find it within you to aid me?”

Glancing at her, he said, “I was curious whether you would mention your obvious connection to Saraqael.”

Hearing her grandfather’s name had unexpected emotion flooding through Sophia. Her parents hadn’t known her grandfather and she had always hesitated to bring her many questions to Quincy, the one person who knew him best. Finding herself in the presence of a being who had once met him had her moving into the kitchen and catching the Scultresti’s gaze.

“What was he like?” she asked.

For once, Hoygul appeared less sure of himself. He placed a few containers that she assumed contained sugar, honey and cream on the table. Then he rested his hands on the back of one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table as he collected his thoughts.

“He was passionate,” he said eventually, “which is more than I can say for most Estilorians. He knew he had exhausted all other options to save Kate and he found himself on my doorstep.”

Tears burned Sophia’s eyes. He remembered her grandmother’s name. She knew he had probably been told about the results of his “gift” of the map to Saraqael, since he didn’t seem surprised to see a female from a new class standing in front of him. But he said it so casually, as though in his mind Saraqael and Kate had been destined to be together, regardless of the tragic circumstances.

“Yeah. Quincy mentioned that,” she said.

“Ah—the other Corgloresti.” Hoygul nodded. “He was not passionate like Saraqael. I would never have given the map to him alone.”

Although she wasn’t sure why, Sophia found herself frowning over the comment. “Quincy’s a very passionate male.”

He made a sound of clear disagreement. “He had nothing resembling passion in him.”

“You just didn’t know what to look for,” she argued. “Believe me, he’s full of passion.”

“Is that so?”

Feeling her cheeks heat under the Scultresti’s pointed gaze, she nodded.

He turned to focus on a shelf of teacups. “Do you love him?”

“Yes.” Despite the abruptness of the question, the response came quite easily to Sophia’s lips…a fact that made her chest hurt. “I only wish I had realized it sooner.”

Placing three cups on the table, he said, “How interesting.”

This wasn’t at all what she expected. She glanced around as Hoygul added tea leaves to the water, wondering if she could find clues regarding how she could get the map. She felt time ticking away like drips of water through a cupped hand.

“Please, sir—” she started to say.

“Why do you seek the map?”

Thrilled that they were finally on a pertinent topic, she answered, “There’s a Mercesti trying to get to a piece of the Elder—”

“You know that the elders have already been here to communicate with me about this, do you not?” he interrupted.

“Um…yes.”

“Then you might try a different approach, since theirs failed to sway me.”

Feeling like an incompetent dolt, she held his gaze and scrambled to think of how she could possibly convince him to help her when the elders had failed to do so. Realizing that for the first time in her existence logic wasn’t going to help her, she decided to throw it out the proverbial window.

“I need to save my cousin and my friend. I think they’ve been led to someone wishing them harm…most likely the same Mercesti seeking the Elder Scroll.”

Hoygul studied her. “Then this isn’t about saving the entire plane from someone bent on destroying it?”

“Not really,” Sophia admitted. “Right now, I just want to save Tate and Ariana.”

“Hmm.”

Several minutes passed in silence as Hoygul stood beside the kettle waiting for it to boil. She couldn’t help but sense that he was leaning in the direction of not helping her. After what Quincy had told everyone regarding his own encounter with the Scultresti, she realized that the rationale for sharing the map was rather specific.

It had her mind churning, and when he finally pulled the kettle from the flame and gave her a look that she sensed was a prelude to denying her request, she said, “Did you know that Penelope once styled my Aunt Amber’s hair?”

The tea kettle rattled as he set it on the table on a round, brown disc that was meant to contain it. “Did she?”

“Yep,” she said conversationally. “It was just before my Aunt Skye and Uncle Caleb’s wedding.”

“Is that so?”

Seeing the effect her words had on the otherwise unflappable male, she continued, “And did you also know that I’ll be heading to Central soon to be paired with my very own Lekwuesti?”

Hoygul’s sharp brown eyes met hers. “I see.”

Not wanting the male to think that she was trying to manipulate him, she moved closer, her hands intertwined. “Hoygul, I’m happy to pass along any messages you might have for Penelope. Quincy mentioned that you asked my grandfather a question to which Penelope was the answer. Because I assume you’re the hero, Odysseus, awaiting the connection with Penelope, I would love to see you reunited.”

There was a very long pause, during which time Hoygul busied himself pouring tea into the cups. Sophia fought the urge to wring her hands as she awaited his next words.

Finally, he again caught her gaze. “Well? You see this table is set for three do you not? Go and get Melanthe.”

A blast of pain pulled Ariana from sleep.

Her eyes popped open as she instinctively curled into the fetal position, protecting her vulnerable midsection. Panting over the blow, she glanced up and found a Mercesti staring down at her.

“Get up,” he snapped. “We hunger.”

Having learned long ago that delays resulted in more punishment, she hurriedly got to her feet and turned to face Eirik. The Mercesti leader had crouched beside Tate, who still appeared to be sleeping.

Rushing over, she asked, “What can I get you, my lord?”

When he looked at her, she reached down and vigorously shook Tate by the shoulders. Relief rushed through her when Tate stirred.

“A stew, perhaps?” she asked, careful to hold Eirik’s gaze. “Maybe a—”

As Tate slowly levered herself up, Eirik reached out and seized Ariana around the throat. Grasping at his arm, she struggled to catch a breath.

“You ruined my fun,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed, remaining as still as she could. She knew that flailing and carrying on only added to the punishment. “I only wanted to serve you, my lord.”

He tossed her from him. She landed with a thud beside Tate, who had moved into a sitting position and was working on rearranging the mass of hair covering most of her face.

“You females need to serve all of us a meal. Then we will continue on.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ariana said, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.

The moment he turned to speak with the being masquerading as Kanika, Ariana cast a light and turned to Tate. “Okay, we must—”

She stopped when she got a good look at Tate’s face.

“What?” Tate asked.

“You—you have red markings around your eyes.”

With a look of disbelief, Tate instinctively reached up to touch her cheekbones. Her eyes shifted to the ring she now wore on her left ring finger.

“Holy crap,” she said, her eyes wide. “I thought we only did it in the dream.”

Glancing around, Ariana realized there were some Mercesti focused on them. She hurriedly generated a soup tureen and began using her power to create a stew to fill it. When everyone appeared satisfied that they would be fed and turned their attention to other tasks, she looked again at Tate.

“What did you do?” she whispered as she created bowls and spoons.

Her eyes latched onto the glaring red arrows now lancing through Tate’s cinquefoils. The mark of the Mercesti on Tiege’s sister made her stomach churn. Glancing away to try and collect herself, she spotted Knorbis, whose gaze was centered on them. She gave him a look that told him just what she thought about their current situation as she awaited Tate’s response.

“I avowed myself to Sparky,” Tate responded. “He thought if we did it in the dream, he’d be able to hear my thoughts once we woke up.”

Dropping the ladle she’d just created, Ariana gaped at her. “But you weren’t physically touching. That’s impossible.”

“Apparently it isn’t.”

Not knowing what to say, as the evidence of the ring and the new markings indicated that Tate was right, she managed, “Have you lost your mind?”

Tate’s gaze remained focused on the silver ring she wore. She appeared lost in thought. Then she murmured, “No.”

Knowing they didn’t have the luxury of time to discuss it any further, Ariana reached up to touch both sides of Tate’s face. Praying she had enough ability to match Tate’s skin tone, she generated the Lekwuesti form of a cosmetic to cover the red arrows around her eyes, as well as the symbol that surely marked her right shoulder blade.

“What are you doing?”

Eirik’s voice had Ariana flinching and removing her hands from Tate’s face. Her mind raced to come up with some kind of explanation.

“I asked her to get rid of the bags under my eyes,” Tate said. “You seem to want to run us into the ground, but that doesn’t mean we have to look the part.”

Silence filled the clearing as they awaited Eirik’s response. Finally, he said, “Finish serving us. Then you will take us the rest of the way to the remaining scroll piece.” His gaze shifted between Tate and Ariana. “I do not care what it takes. This next trip, you had better get us to what I seek or you will suffer the consequences.”