Sorceress of Faith (23 page)

Marian
willed herself not to pale. She nodded.

“And
it riles Bastien when a man pays attention to Alyeka. Before she tamed him,
Bastien had a habit of irritating people. I am no exception.”

Marian
wouldn’t have called either Alexa or Bastien tame. The teapot finished turning
another circuit and settled itself on a small, solid wooden table in front of
them. Since the top was heavily scarred as if the table had been used for many
purposes, Marian didn’t move to protect the surface. Jaquar didn’t even seem to
notice that the pot might have left another unsightly mark. Sorcerer or not, he
was a real guy.

She
had let new magic distract her long enough—as it had far too often lately—so
she returned to her priority. “Do you know much about diseases or healing? I
can tell you my brother’s symptoms.”

But
he was shaking his head. “I am sorry. I have no skill in that area. I cannot
help you.”

Marian
nodded and sipped her tea. Disappointed again.

Jaquar
finished his drink, picked up the teapot and crossed the room. She could hear
him, but didn’t take her eyes off the view from the windows. Green land, a
winding stream, the ocean beyond. A lovely view. And nothing like the Flatirons
of Boulder or the mountains of Denver. Home.

An
odd clatter caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Jaquar pushing
a cart containing the spheres. “Why don’t they float like the teapot?” she
asked.

“Because
the teapot is imbued with generations of household magic and is used often. I
fashioned these planet spheres a while back in my first year as a Circlet when
I wanted to experiment with weather in a controlled environment. When I was
done, I removed the energy from them to use elsewhere.” He wedged the cart into
the space between her feet and the table, then waved a hand. It lowered to
angle over her chair like an adjustable desk.

Marian
chuckled. No, Lladrana wasn’t home, but it continued to be endlessly
fascinating. She
could
make a home here—even raise a Tower—if she didn’t
need to return to Andrew.

“Revive
the spheres,” Jaquar said.

Though
his tones were low and spoken like a request, Marian didn’t delude herself. The
downtime they’d spent together was finished and he now watched her with the
keen gaze of a judging prof.

It
was easier than she had anticipated, and obviously far less difficult for her
than Jaquar had expected. But the glass and the models—the land and cities and
dried plant life—all resonated of Jaquar, and Marian found the patterns simple
to work with, as if the man had familiar thought processes. In a few moments,
all three terrariums were vivid with “life”—and weather. The smallest jar
showed a pretty ocean lapping at newly plumped trees, opening and stretching
under bright sunlight and a sky with a few clouds…that spelled
Marian
in
English. It was a signature that she just couldn’t resist. The middle terrarium
was dark with rain and storm. The largest planet sphere had new continents,
oceans and trade winds.

Jaquar
studied her work from under lowered brows. He lifted his head, shaking it.
“Unbelievable.”

Marian
smiled sweetly.

“We
will definitely begin your practicum outside, tomorrow morning.”

Tuck
waddled up, squeaking something that Marian couldn’t understand because his
mouth was full and both of his cheek pouches were distended. He looked nearly
two-thirds bigger than usual.

“By
the Song!” Jaquar said. He squatted. “May I pick you up, Tuck?”

There
was mumbled hamster agreement.

Once
again Jaquar scrutinized the hamster nose-to-tail, paying particular attention
to his cheeks. “What a remarkable animal.”

Tuck
smirked.

Jaquar
looked to Marian, and for the first time she thought she saw him without any
mask. His eyes held a dark shadow, his faint smile had no practiced charm, his
whole body exuded interest and attraction.

“A
remarkable companion to a remarkable woman.”

Warmth
bloomed in Marian, both simple and complex. She felt pleasure at the sincere
compliment, and a low ache at the magnetism humming between them, all too
tempting to act upon.

Tuck
wriggled in Jaquar’s grasp. “Bed!”

It
was too close to Marian’s drifting thoughts. She straightened. “Yes, what of
the sleeping arrangements? I had my own apartment in Bossgond’s Tower.”

“My
Tower is just as well equipped as Bossgond’s,” he said. He gestured upward. “As
you know, my ritual room is the top of the Tower, as is customary. This room is
my study.” He waved a hand. “It has many windows and great light. I prefer
dimness in my personal rooms, so the lower three levels have only a few square windows.”
He hesitated. “I was quite young when I raised my Tower and gave little thought
to having an Apprentice. I have never taken one. But there’s a suite of
rooms—half the bottom floor—that should serve.”

He
held Tuck up to gaze into the hamster’s eyes. “Do you want to stay with Marian,
me, or have a little house here, Tuck?”

“A
house!” Tuck squeaked.

Jaquar
strode over to a shelf that held an elaborate model about four feet square. The
top was a church and attached buildings that looked like a monastery or
nunnery. But it was what was
below
the building that fascinated—a series
of tunnels and “underground” chambers. Some were stone vaults and paved, others
rough caverns. Marian glanced down to the brass plate at the bottom of the
model. It read “Portions of the Singer’s Abbey.”

“Portions?”
she asked.

He
grimaced. “The Friends of the Singers are the most secretive people in
Lladrana. Much to the Tower Community’s dismay, we don’t have accurate maps or
models of the Singer’s Abbey. This construct is the best we have.”

His
gaze met hers and they shook their heads in unison. No knowledge should be
hidden. It wasn’t right. She smiled, then his lips curved, too.

Tuck
squeaked and wiggled. “My house!”

“I
think he likes it,” Jaquar said. “One moment, Tuck, and I’ll take it off the
shelf. The model has its own stand that rises from the floor.” Jaquar handed
Tuck to Marian. The hamster quivered with excitement. Jaquar ran his hand down
the carved front support of the bookcase, found a sculpted cloud and turned it.
There was a soft
whirr
and a pedestal rose from the floor and sat in one
of the octagonal corners of the room.

“That
location matches the geographical placement of the Singer’s Abbey in relation
to the sun,” Jaquar said.

Tuck
clapped his paws in delight, causing notes like glass windchimes to tremble
through the room.

Marian
chuckled and walked over to the heavily carved stand that consisted of a
bottom, four pillared legs and an open top with inset grooves for the model.

Jaquar
overtook them and carefully placed the dollhouse on the stand, then stooped,
reached up and hooked his fingers into the bottom of the construct. With a
pull, a small ramp descended to the floor. He grunted, then looked askance at
Tuck.

“When
old Sorceress Entanra gave this to me, neither of us knew why she’d included
the staircase.” He stood and dusted his hands off. “There are several Lladranan
noble families that have a touch of foresight, and she came from one of them.”

“Put
me down, down,
down!
” Tuck demanded. He obviously yearned to try the
staircase made just for him. Marian set him on the floor. He ran to the little
wooden ramp and climbed it until he disappeared into the model.

“Entanra
was of the Chiladees—Bastien’s mother’s family,” Jaquar said.

Marian
shot him a startled glance. “Bastien has the gift of foresight?”

Jaquar
grunted as he tested the fit of the model in the stand. It was solid. “No, but
his brother Luthan Vauxveau does. You might remember that if you happen to meet
him.” Jaquar tapped a finger on the chapel. “He’s a noble Chevalier with land
and volarans of his own, but he’s also the representative of the Singer to the
Marshalls’ Council. The Marshalls usually lead Lladrana—they are the ones who
like to do that sort of thing.”

“Ah.”

“Chevaliers
of the Field are our main fighting force—knights who ride horses or fly
volarans.”

At
that point, Tuck popped out of one of the holes in the cavern bottom and wound
his way up to a large chamber, sniffing madly all the way and making his usual
comments to himself. “This is dusty, no good. Smells like incense here, not
nice for food. Where to store the food?” He stopped and turned to them,
clasping his paws.

“Thank
you, Jaquar. Thank you, Marian. This is a wonderful house!” Then he hopped into
a tunnel that vanished into the depths of the model.

Marian
frowned. “Is there somewhere we could see the whole thing if we wanted?” A
twinge of abandonment rushed through her.

Jaquar
shrugged. “Each side provides a different angle, of course, and if absolutely
necessary, the model is constructed in different, interlocking-spell layers and
could be disassembled, but I would prefer not to do that. Does having Tuck up
here in my study instead of your rooms bother you?”

Marian
shifted. “A little.” Jaquar’s eyes had deepened into sapphire. “I lost him
during the Summoning. He was trapped in his ball—his vehicle—and the wind took
him away.” She choked. “I thought he was dead.”

“How
did you find him?”

“The
feycoocu told me where to look. He was on Bossgond’s island.”

Eyes
widening, Jaquar said, “How did he get there?”

“I
don’t know.” She shivered. “I don’t know,” she repeated in a whisper. She
glanced at the new hamster house. “I asked Tuck, but he only vaguely recalls
when he was just an animal.”

“Hmm,”
Jaquar said. “He should be safe enough in the model, and in this Tower.
Outdoors is another matter.”

Marian
fisted her hands. “I don’t know if I could lose him now. He’s a real
companion.” She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to leave him here on Amee
when she went back. More and more she feared that Tuck wouldn’t want to return
to Earth.

“Sleep!”
came Tuck’s high voice, and as Marian turned to look at the model of Singer’s
Abbey, the light in it dimmed. That gave her a jolt, too. Hamsters were
nocturnal, but since he’d awakened after feasting on the atomball, Tuck had
become more diurnal. And he had enough Power to dim the light in his own house.

“You
worry too much,” Jaquar said. He reached out and took her closed fingers in his
large, elegantly long-fingered hands, lifting one of her hands, then another to
his lips.

With
the brush of his mouth on her fingers, an intricate Song bloomed between them,
full-bodied, with a long melodic line.

Marian
shivered. Her hands opened and her fingers twined with his. As they joined palm
to palm, a current of music twisted between them.

The
intensity of feeling, and the orchestral music, built until her every nerve
ending shivered.

“Dance
with me,” he said, voice low.

That
was the last thing she’d expected.

Slowly,
slowly, he raised her left hand to the top of his shoulder. His smile was edged
with challenge and irony—and she sensed he dared both himself and her.

Jaquar’s
smile looked more ironic than amused. Then he stared down at her. “You’re
surprised. Odd.”

“I’m
not used to…to melodies between people.”

“But
your people cherish music. I know this is so, because I know Alyeka.”

“Our…Power…doesn’t
manifest itself in music.” It was all Marian could say. She didn’t really know
how strong or how pervasive true magic was on Earth. Surely it was secret
knowledge, practiced by only a very few.

“Do
you dance?” he asked.

With
the words came a rush of kindness, interest, attraction from him. She grew
light-headed.

“Yes,”
she said.

He
set his left hand on her waist, in waltz formation. Did they waltz here? Did
Lladranans bring the waltz to Earth or vice versa? Or did an Exotique learn it
and take it home during a Snap?

The
music between them surged, developed undertones, harmonies. Jaquar swept her
into a waltz, and the only music they heard was that which they made between
themselves.

He
was graceful, supple, his steps wooing. More than the turns made her dizzy.
She’d never felt so womanly, so pretty. Nothing in his gaze, his touch, his
aura made her feel too tall, or too plump.

Along
with that came another realization—no one on Lladrana had looked at her with
critical eyes. Bossgond had studied her work and snorted at her early efforts,
but he’d never examined her person with a judgmental gaze.

No
one seemed to think she was overweight and out of shape. Her body didn’t seem
to matter.

She
felt beautiful.

And
the man dancing with her was achingly alluring.