Sorceress of Faith (17 page)

“Thomas
Lindley, two weeks,” Marian repeated, moving her fingers under the words. To
the right of the time was a word in red. All down the list the last word was in
red or blue. It looked as if three-quarters of the words were blue, one-quarter
red. Marian indicated the word. “This means?”

“Returned,”
he said gruffly. “Thomas chose to return to the Exotique land.”

Marian’s
pulse picked up. “There’s a choice.” Alexa had said so, but Marian
needed—emotionally more than mentally—to have it confirmed.

Bossgond
angled his head to stare into her eyes. His own were dark pools of brown-black,
expressionless. “The individual chooses to stay or go. This list is currently
arranged according to the length of time between Summoning and the Snap.” He
pointed to the last name on the page, about halfway down the sheet, “Jessica
Smith.” His finger hovered over the time-period column. “Seven years, three
moons, twelve days,” Bossgond read.

“Seven
years!
The Snap took that long for her? Why?”

“No
one knows.”

The
last word for Jessica was “Stayed.” Marian imagined so. After seven years a
person would have a whole new life.

“Time
passes the same,” she said.

He
patted her shoulder with a knobby hand. “As far as we know, yes. Our time units
are nearly the same, also. Perhaps because our lands are close to each other
along the Dimensional Corridor.”

He
flicked a finger at the names and they rearranged themselves on the sheet. “Now
the names are arranged according to most recently Summoned person.”

Excellent.

At
the top, Marian read, “Alexa Fitzwalter,” scanned over to the far column and
saw the blue word “Stayed.” She was the latest Exotique. After her was Thomas.

Marian
scanned the list. “The Snap usually occurs between a week and six months.” Six
months was too long for her to wait. If she wasn’t back by the time Andrew
checked with her—probably as soon as he finished with the retreat—he’d move
heaven and earth to find her. She didn’t want to contemplate how her loss might
affect him, emotionally and physically.

She
took the sheet of paper. It felt slick and repulsive and she gasped, letting it
fall. Bossgond smiled humorlessly. “Parchment, made from a slayer.”

Marian
recalled the yellow-furred creature with poisonous spines.

Bossgond
picked it up and placed it back on the desk. “I know that Alexa told you of Lladrana’s—and
Amee’s—peril.”

For
comfort, Marian retrieved Tuck from Bossgond’s desk. He snuffled a little.
Cradling him in her hands, she met Bossgond’s eyes seriously. “You know of my
brother Andrew and his circumstances. I
must
be back home in a few weeks.
I want you to promise me that you will help me return, if my Snap doesn’t occur
before that time.”

Bossgond’s
lips tightened. “I don’t know of anyone who has returned to Exotique Terre
under any circumstances other than the Snap.”

Marian
nailed him with her gaze. “You are the oldest, most Powerful Sorcerer of
Lladrana. You can see my abode through your binoculars. Both Alexa and I have
passed through the Dimensional Corridor, so we can visualize it. She
understands my situation and will help me return. Among the three of us—and
anyone you think might help—I should be able to go back.”

He
looked pained. “You won’t change your mind?”

“No.
My brother’s health is at stake. He is my greatest priority.”

Bossgond
rose and paced to the black-shrouded binoculars and back. “I will do my best,
but Lladrana needs you.”

Marian
heard more than that from the melody linking them.
I need you
. Had he
already become attached to her? That was so sweet. She must admit that she’d
already developed an affection for him, as well as respecting him.

“Very
well,” he said. “I will request the Friends of the Singer look through their
Lorebooks and Oracle Archives for any information regarding your brother’s
disease, as well as requesting all data from the Tower Community. Occasionally
we have had Sorcerer or Sorceress Medicas. I will contact the Chief Medicas
attached to the Castle, the Cities and the Seamasters. If there are instances
of people who have or had your brother’s disease, I will learn of it, along
with all treatments or cures.”

Unexpected
tears stung her eyes. “Thank you.” But she was afraid to hope.

“We
are blood-bonded, as are you and Alexa. Though it has never happened, perhaps
you might be able to return to Amee.”

She
didn’t think she’d ever abandon Andrew, even if he were in perfect health, but
Bossgond seemed to expect something from her. “Perhaps. I
was
conducting
my own Ritual at the time the Marshalls Summoned me. I might have adequate
Power even in Exotique Terre to come back here.”

He
nodded briskly. “The Marshalls’ Power and ritual coincided with yours. Your
Power is raw and untaught. But by the time I finish instructing you, you could
be our first Interdimensional Traveler.”

A
gleam entered his eyes, and Marian got the sinking feeling that he had a new
career goal for her.

Oddly
enough, obtaining her doctorate and starting on an academic career—once her
heart’s desire—now seemed flat. What teased her mind, plucked at her emotions,
was the idea of becoming a Circlet Weather Sorceress and raising her own Tower.
She knew exactly the place where she’d build it, too—in the green glen that
called to her. She suppressed a sigh and refrained from shaking her head. She
couldn’t figure out how she could get everything she wanted.

“It
has been a long day for you,” Bossgond said. “I think you should retire and
rest.”

His
gaze slid to the binoculars again, and Marian sensed he wished to pursue his
studies alone. Would he check on her apartment? He now had Andrew’s
coordinates—would he watch Andrew? Could Bossgond possibly learn how to help
Andrew by observing her brother?

“I
am tired. Tuck and I will go to bed now.” On impulse, she kissed Bossgond’s
wrinkled cheek. “I could ask for no better teacher.” She thought she saw a
tinge of red under his golden skin.

“Perhaps
you’d rather have Alexa as your mentor.”

Marian
laughed. “I think she is an excellent Swordmarshall.” And would have made a
hot-shot attorney. “But I don’t think she has the patience to be a good
teacher.”

He
smiled faintly as he took her arm and walked her to the door.

“Besides—”
Marian stopped “—she is very busy—fighting. She said some Sorcerers and
Sorceresses fight, too?”

“That
was true of the last large battle, when Alexa requested help from the Tower
Community.” He waved a hand. “Jaquar Dumont organized our contribution. At that
time the fence posts were still falling and no one knew how to make new ones.
The magical shield along the north boundary of Lladrana was failing. A large
number of horrors had massed to invade.”

Marian’s
imagination painted a vivid picture of the conditions.

Bossgond
finished, “So some of the younger Sorcerers and Sorceresses used their Power in
battle.”

Marian’s
admiration for Alexa increased. She’d literally saved the country—how had she
felt as Joan of Arc? Marian wanted to know the woman better.

Another
wish that would not be fulfilled….Time was too short for everything Marian
wanted to do, to learn, to explore.

“But
during the battle, Exotique Alyeka discovered how to create the fence posts.”
Bossgond looked grim. “Every Sorcerer and Sorceress of the Tower made twenty
copies of the information as to how the fence posts are made, how the border
shield is energized. We sent Lorebooks to every contact we had in the other
Communities. The knowledge will
never
be lost again.”

“A
very good thing,” Marian said quietly.

“Essential.”
Bossgond opened the door and ushered her out with a small bow. He hesitated,
then said, “Sleep well, and the hamster, too.”

Marian
smiled. “We will. Sweet dreams.”

Bossgond
looked a little startled, and Marian went down the stairs, smiling. It was good
to surprise a teacher now and then—keep him on his toes.

T
he next morning,
Marian awoke to a small squeaky voice calling, “Here’s Food! Here’s Food!” She
blinked and struggled from sleep, and the words went on and on. Cocking her
head, she realized the voice was close—coming from the table she’d brought into
her bedroom.

Coming
from Tuck’s aquarium.

A
shiver feathered down her spine. Time to brace herself for more magic.

Slowly
she walked over to the glass cage. Tuck rose and placed his little pink paws on
the glass. He smiled.

He
was not just a hamster anymore. She didn’t know what he was, but she knew he’d
changed—become a companion to her.

“Hello,
Tuck,” she said.

“Hel-lo,
Here’s Food.” He beamed. “Hun-gry.”

11

M
arian stared
into the old aquarium. Tuck had just spoken to her in squeaks she could
understand! She blinked. “My name’s Marian.”

“Here’s
Food,” he said.

Glancing
at the corner of the cage where he kept his food, she saw his hoard wasn’t as
large as he preferred. She left the bedroom for the “kitchen” area of her
circular loft and pulled out a small bowl of nuts and dried fruit that Bossgond
had given her. Taking the handful, she went back to the aquarium.

“Here’s
food,” she said, and stopped to listen to her own words. Tuck associated her
with food, with those words. No wonder he called her that.

She
shrugged and put the handful of food in his cage.

He
hurried over and began arranging it, eating an especially tasty piece now and
then. She stood and watched. A few moments later he was done. Then he paced the
cage. She’d lined it with shredded paper. “No fun,” he said.

The
hamster had vocal cords. She wondered if she would ever be able to study them.
Then again, she didn’t know what human vocal cords looked like, and there were
plenty of other topics that demanded her attention.

He
squeaked, “Out!”

“If
I let you roam, will you stay, or run off so I will never find you?”

He
scrabbled against the glass. “I will stay in this place.”

“This
room,” she said firmly. “No crawling down any pipes, wiggling into any holes in
the floor or walls and not returning.” She shook a finger at him, even as she
wondered if he could understand her.
How
he could understand her. Only
one answer occurred.

Magic.

Tuck
wrinkled his nose. “Bad house. Want new one.”

It
might be interesting to make him a little house, without a cage. She’d feel
better if he were off the floor, but he climbed well—a low table would be fine.

“Out!
Out! Out!”

“All
right!” She scooped him up and placed him on the floor. She’d really have to
learn to mind her step. He had only roamed her apartment in his ball. “Do you
want your ball?” Bossgond still had it.

Tuck
ran under the wardrobe. Gleaming black eyes peered out at her. “No.”

Marian
sighed. “All right, but be aware that I might not see you, so you have to be
careful underfoot.”

“Yes.
More food.
Soft
food.”

She
smiled, figuring “soft food” meant a bit of cheese or egg or fresh vegetables.
“I don’t have any here. I’ll check with Bossgond.” She headed for the speaking
tube.

“Old
man teacher,” Tuck said.

“Yes.”

“He
smells funny.”

Marian
stopped at the edge of the stained-glass partition and looked back into the
bedroom. As she watched, Tuck appeared, crawling up the far side of her
bedspread to explore her bed. He sat, Buddhalike, in the middle of her bed,
paws clasped.

“Smells
funny how?”

Tuck
sniffed. “Mostly big sweet smell, then man smell, then old smell.”

“Ah.”

The
hamster blinked at her and smiled. “You smell sweeter.”

To
her amazement, Marian found herself dipping a curtsy, smiling herself. “Thank
you, Tuck.”

“More
food.”

She
laughed. Cocking her head, she quieted her thoughts to sense Bossgond. His
thoughts sparked, indicating he was awake.

She
went to the tube and spoke into it. “Tuck and I are hungry.”

Bossgond
grunted. “The oeuf is ready. You can share it with him.”

Marian
grimaced at the thought of the tasteless omelette. “We’ll be right up.” She
hurried to wash and dress, then picked Tuck up from her bed.

“Shoulder,”
he said.

Looking
at him askance, she said, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to fall.”

“I
will not fall.”

Marian
shrugged, then made a note not to do that when Tuck was riding her shoulder.
She set him on her right shoulder and winced as his sharp little claws dug
through the material.