Sorceress of Faith (12 page)

Before
Jaquar’s parents died, Chalmon had considered himself the leader of their
generation of the Tower Community. Jaquar, like most, had gone his own way and
done small tasks for Chalmon as requested, and if they cost little.

That
had changed. Jaquar had never wanted to be a leader, barely had the patience to
deal with the idiosyncrasies of a group of individuals, but he hungered for
vengeance.

When
they reached Chalmon’s tidy study, Venetria rose and came forward. Jaquar
sensed she’d been with Chalmon since the debacle at the Marshalls’ Castle the
day before.

“Salutations,
Venetria.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “How did you two get here?”

Chalmon
waved a hand as if impatient with the question, any small talk. “I bought a
coach and Venetria bespelled it to fly. It will be a welcome addition to my
household.”

Venetria
frowned. “It’s
my
coach.”

“I
bought it.” Chalmon scowled at his lover.

“But
my flight spell is much more costly than the coach itself.”

“Why
didn’t you settle this between the two of you before?” asked Jaquar.

Chalmon
reddened. Venetria smiled in satisfaction. “Chalmon was in a hurry to get
into
the coach. All that Power compressed in that pentacle yesterday was so
invigorating
.”

Venetria
heaved a sigh, which raised her chest. She did have beautiful breasts. Almost
as beautiful as the Exotique’s, though Jaquar had no business thinking such
thoughts.

He
strode to the center of the room where a study table and several chairs sat,
unrolled one of the large sheets of paper he’d brought with him and placed it
on the table. “This is a diagram and map of Plane Eighteen. I’ve found it to be
the best for observing the nest. The master and monsters don’t sense us because
it is a few levels more spiritual—more
good
—than what they can achieve.”

“They
are too destructive for Eighteen?” Venetria asked. “I don’t do well in any
Plane lower than Twenty-four.” She slid Chalmon a glance. “Unless I’m angry at
Chalmon.”

Jaquar’s
mouth twisted. “I’ve reached upward to Eighty-two, as low as Eleven—which is
the Plane the horrors use most often.”

Chalmon
grunted. “Is that other roll level Eleven?”

“Yes.”
Jaquar moved the first map to one side of the table and set the second down.

As
he unrolled it, Chalmon placed a paperweight on each of the four corners and
studied the musical notation at the bottom of the chart. His nose wrinkled as
if smelling a bad odor.

“Foul,”
Chalmon said. He tapped the music and a low, grating hum and clashing notes
reverberated through the room. Venetria jumped and put her hands over her ears.

“You
probably shouldn’t have done that,” Jaquar said mildly.

Greasy
smoke hovered in the air. “You’re right.” Chalmon scowled. “Now they could
become aware of me, might have a direct path here. I’ll have to do a Ritual
Cleansing.” He glanced at Jaquar. “How do you make such maps without alerting
the monsters, the Master, the Dark itself?”

“Very
carefully.” He had no intention of revealing his secrets.

For
an instant, Chalmon’s face lightened with humor, then he sobered again and
nodded to chairs near the fireplace. They were simple and covered in royal
blue, Chalmon’s color. He waited until Jaquar and Venetria were seated, then
said, “I am not comfortable with your previous plan to train the new Exotique
and use her to infiltrate the nest.”

Relief
eased Jaquar’s tight muscles. Despite his lust for revenge, he’d had qualm,
too, since he met Marian. Her personal Song was so lovely.

Chalmon
continued. “I studied the information you sent regarding the recent
observations of the Dark’s nest. The Sorcerer who was watching last night said
there was a great stirring when Marian was Summoned. The Dark obviously knows
she’s arrived. We may not have time for her full training.”

Venetria
pursed her lips. “True. I hope Bossgond teaches her rapidly and well.”

Chalmon
said, “The Sorceress watching the nest this morning stated there has been
increased activity, as if more monsters would soon be released.” He squared his
shoulders. “I contacted the others. We—the group of us—agree that we may have
to move faster than anticipated.”

Anger
stirred inside Jaquar. “Sounds as if you were busy during my trip from my
island this evening.”

Eyes
steely, Chalmon said, “From the Power I felt surrounding the Exotique, she is
strong enough and
Exotique
enough to penetrate the magical shield
keeping the rest of us at bay.”

“I
want her trained up to Circlet status first,” Jaquar insisted. “It would be
foolish to throw away such a fearsome weapon as Marian without learning all she
is capable of.” He stood and paced. “Has it occurred to you that the Master is
baiting a trap? And he wants us to do just as we planned—send the new Exotique
Marian to her destruction instead of guarding her and using her? She’s Powerful
and could be the worst danger to him if she develops into a Circlet, unites us
and fights with us and Exotique Alyeka.”

Chalmon
shifted his shoulders. “That may well be true, but I’m sure she could hurt the
nest, and you saw what
one
sangvile did. Its damage is exponential. If
the Master releases several—”

“We
are
watching
. We will know when the horrors leave the nest maw. We know
how to defeat all the monsters we’ve encountered so far, including the
sangvile, including the dreeth. I do not want to act in haste!”

Venetria
and Chalmon exchanged glances.

“We
should definitely spend more time with her and learn her Powers before we
solidify our plans,” Venetria said. She grimaced. “I suppose we should visit
Bossgond.”

“He’ll
probably be having many people dropping by—Circlets of the Tower and Marshalls,
too. Nothing will stop Exotique Alyeka from greeting another from her old
world.” Jaquar smiled as he recalled the small woman’s excitement the previous
day. “And since Alyeka doesn’t fly well, her husband, Bastien, will bring her.
As a black-and-white, Bastien has a wide streak of curiosity himself.”

Jaquar
chuckled. “Yes, Bossgond’s Tower may become a busy place. Enough to make him
cranky. I plan to go see him and Marian myself.”

V
enetria and
Chalmon watched Jaquar leave. As they stood at the top of the tower, Chalmon’s
fingers tightened on hers, his profile went stern. The Song between them was
rough and uneven as their thoughts and desires conflicted. As usual.

“I
didn’t ask to be jolted out of my complacency and into the knowledge of great
danger.”

She
jerked her hand from his and turned away from the window. “I’m sorry I burdened
you when my aunt died, made you face what the sangvile could do to us,” she
said stiffly. “I must go.” She’d wanted to stay, had felt protected and warm
here, even though his furnishings were not to her taste. He’d never noticed
that, of course. She digressed from the topic he’d introduced, but she didn’t
want to think about what plans he might propose.

He
grasped her, both hands on her shoulders. “Jaquar is deviating from his
original tune in this.”

“Easier
to consider harm to an unknown person than someone we’ve met.”

“A
very beautiful woman who has an intriguing Song. Who he held in his arms, who
spun notes with him even during a short interval.” Now Chalmon gazed beyond
her. “But if Jaquar retreats from this plan, I will not.” His hawkish stare met
hers again, pinned her. “What of you?”

“I
don’t know.”

M
arian woke at
the feel of a cool, damp, herbal-scented cloth wiping her face. Bossgond stared
down at her, concerned.

“It’s
only been a few minutes, and is still evening,” he said in a raspy voice. “Let
us adjourn to my chambers.”

Testing
her arms and legs, Marian stretched. Her limbs worked fine, though her insides
felt a little hollow.

She
took Bossgond’s hand and rose, stood a moment, but no dizziness occurred.
Smiling at her master, a man whose bark was worse than his bite from all she’d
learned of him, she went with him back down to his study.

It
seemed even more comfortable since Marian had experienced the Power it had
taken to raise the Tower, the money—known here as zhiv—to furnish it.

Attentive,
Bossgond settled Marian in the nest of pillows in the center of the room, then
brought her coffee. She’d discovered through their bonding that coffee wasn’t
rare—not as rare as tea—but Bossgond considered it a treat.

He
sat opposite her, his wrinkled cheeks faintly flushed. “We
are
bonded,
but not as deeply as usual between Master and Apprentice. To compensate for my
failure to complete the full bonding I will show you something special tomorrow
morning.”

Marian
stared at him, recognizing that his self-condemnation at such a “failure,”
wasn’t attractive. He’d done his best, hadn’t he? They
did
have a bond,
a Song, and it felt strong to her. He’d done neither of them harm. In fact,
harm to him had been averted, since the strangeness of Earth had threatened his
sanity. Yet he expected her to condemn him? She didn’t know what to say.

He
waved a hand irritably. “You may go.”

So
she curtsied and left. Head crammed full of the day’s experiences, she wound
down the stairs thinking that she should keep a journal. She entered her room
in full dark, but before the door closed behind her, a soft light flickered on.

A
lantern atop the large desk glowed—bright on the first blank pages of an open
book. Marian’s mouth dropped open, but she was too tired to make a sound, too
weary to mess with the feather pen sitting in the pretty gold-edged glass
inkwell.

Instead
she went behind the stained-glass partition to her bedroom and removed her
clothes and shoes, folding her dress up as she’d found it. Not a wrinkle or a
speck of dirt marred the cloth. On one of the lower shelves she found a pile of
pale gowns that looked like nightwear, and drew one on, sighing with tired
pleasure as the soft material whispered over her skin. When she climbed into
bed and found the sheets warm, she chuckled. Magic could provide incredible
luxury.

Trying
her own Power, she said, “Lights out,” and smiled as darkness enveloped her
loft.

Just
before she fell asleep, a thought occurred to her: all her skill in being able
to shape weather would not help Andrew.

I
n the morning
Marian found a little golden tattoo of a bird on the inside of her left wrist,
but no other scar. When she tried to converse with Bossgond at breakfast, he
replied in grunts, and she decided he was naturally a grumpy old man who’d
tried to tone down his manner for the past couple of days. She much preferred
his slight deception to her mother’s hypocrisy. They ate another bland cheese
omelette and coffee.

She
must remember to get them a cook.

After
breakfast her heart pumped hard as he gestured to the oversize binoculars—the
ones he used to watch Earth. They had their own stand of polished brass. The
instrument itself was of copper-inlaid brass and shone—obviously Bossgond’s
pride and joy. The eyepieces were the right size; it was the other end that
held great lenses, each about three feet in diameter.

Bossgond
went to the stand and adjusted gleaming gears. “I’ve been observing your
Exotique Terre for half a year now—as soon as a Circlet reported that destiny
tunes indicated more Exotiques would be Summoned.”

“Oh?”
Marian encouraged.

“Then
the Marshalls Summoned the first Exotique as expected, to keep and train as one
of their own, and indications appeared that we, the Tower Community of Circlets,
should accept the next Exotique as one of us.”

He
was leaving a lot out, Marian was sure, but right now all her attention was
focused on the binoculars. She bit her lip, waiting impatiently.

Bossgond
tapped the fancy brass instrument. “This is still focused on your former abode.
See for yourself.”

8

C
areful not to
joggle the binoculars, Marian bent to peer through the eyepiece.

Her
breath caught as she saw the gray carpet of her apartment, the taped red star.
The incense smoke had long since dissipated, but the little power-light for her
sound system was still on. Her PDA was in the middle of the pentacle.

Drawing
back, she nibbled her bottom lip, glanced at Bossgond. “I know it’s been only
two days, but my brother is very sick. Could I check on him?”

He
stared at her in silence, and she wondered how much he’d received and
understood about Andrew. She kept her eyes on his. She wouldn’t back down.
Bossgond’s eyes narrowed.

“How
far away is your brother?”

Marian
spread her hands. “Across the country from me. My home is in the middle of a
great land mass—”