Sorceress of Faith (29 page)

When
no one denied his logic, he bowed to them all, turned and left.

Just
before he shut the outer door behind him, he heard Chalmon say thoughtfully,
“Do you think Jaquar’s bonded with our new Exotique, too?”

“There
is definitely a chord sounding between them,” Venetria said.

Jaquar
closed the door, smiling a little. He had won the game, and Marian would never
know the depths he had sunk to, when ravaged by grief.

F
or Marian, the
books hadn’t been too hard to read after all. At first, the sight of the words
seemed to sear into her head as if they were written in neon. But when she put
her finger on the words, trying to learn the alphabet and sound them out, she
heard the sound-songs of them in her mind.

By
the time she felt too exhausted to continue her search through the Medical
texts, she knew how to read. Some of the more complex words still stymied her,
and connotations and concepts might be difficult, but overall, she was pleased
with her work. She didn’t think she’d be able to read aloud anytime soon,
though. And as she dressed in her nightgown and climbed into her bed, she
wondered how soon the language of Lladranan—reading and speaking—would vanish
from her mind when she returned to Earth. Would she go to France in the future
and speak with a Lladranan accent? Or would she have to relearn French?

She
smiled to herself as sleep crept close. Her concentration had been intense, and
with the unaccustomed activities of the day, she hadn’t been able to read more
than a couple of hours—not even long enough to listen to the entire “Magic
Flute.” But she had found small traces of information regarding something the
Lladranans called “cortifremi,” which sounded like MS. As she slipped into
sleep, hope filled her that she’d be able to find a magical—Powerful—cure she
could apply to her brother.

She
awoke to stifling dark and stark terror. The horrible sound of swooping wings
accompanied the brush of dusty feathers on her face. She screamed and heard no
sound.

This
was not a nightmare. She was awake, cold sweat coating her body. She couldn’t
move.

The
thing
perched on the bottom frame of her sleigh bed, eyes gleaming.

18

C
lutching the
covers until her fingers hurt, Marian stared at the bird. A black vulture with
a bare red head.

It
stared back. There was something about the tilt of its head, the glow of its
eyes, the…the…delicacy of its Song. It loomed about a foot high. Weren’t
vultures bigger?

Sinafin?
Marian sent the
being a mental call. Sweet relief poured through her.

The
glittering black gaze pierced her. She could have sworn a splinter of pain
entered her chest.

Are
you sure?
whispered like dry dust in her mind.

Marian
wasn’t at all sure.

The
bird lifted wings and sidestepped down the footboard with the sound of sharp
claws scritching against the wood, raising gooseflesh on Marian’s arms. Her
heart thundered in her ears.
What do you want?
Even if she could move,
she didn’t know if she’d be able to speak.

Are
you trying to talk to me?
asked the creature.
I can’t hear you. Try harder
.

The
tone slapped her mentally—an order, nearly a compulsion.

Sinafin?
Marian
mind-whispered.

A
flash of blue lightning blinded Marian, and when the spots faded from her
vision she saw the creature was now dead white, a skeletal thing. Only the eyes
were alive, and they were cold and demanding.

But
Marian knew what it was. It
was
the magical shapeshifter, the feycoocu.
Sinafin. What did the being want of her? Marian could think only of Alexa’s
parting words.
Sinafin can be trusted to do what is best for Lladrana
.

I
can’t hear you
.
Lightning flashed again and, blinking, Marian saw the vulture was now covered
in a long black robe, a cowl draped over its head, showing only beak and
glowing red eyes that stared at her inimically.

It
clicked its beak in threat. Marian moaned. No sound emerged.
She could make
no sound!

I
can’t hear you. You must call louder
. The vulture hopped down from the rail,
robe flapping, and lit on her feet. Claws curled over her toes. It felt heavy,
pressing hard against her feet. Marian shrieked silently in her head.

Marian
watched in horror as it extended one clawed foot and set it down on her ankle.
It would walk up her body! She thought her heart would burst from the terror.

Her
mind gibbered, then put syllables together in a mental cry.
Sinafin!

I
can barely hear you. Try harder
. Another step and it settled on her
ankles, not heavy now, but moving with a dry rustling that made Marian tremble.

Sinafin!

Better.
Try again
.

SINAFIN
.

It
stopped, foot raised, ready to step up on her shin. Its beak opened in what
appeared to be a grotesque smile.

SINAFIN!
Marian screamed
with her mind. Pushed aside fear to grasp at the elusive wild Song of the small
magical being.
SINAFIN!

Marian
envisioned it as a
she
, a pretty fairy.
SINAFIN, FEYCOOCU!
The
bed seemed to vibrate with the force of her mind-call.

The
vulture flew—backward—to the footboard. Tilted its head.
Louder—use all your
senses, all your will
.

The
feycoocu was a fairy, with black hair and blue wings, with a wild, delicate,
fascinating Song. She had smelled of…of…a spicy floral scent. She was
not
heavy, she was light. An…aura…a rainbow of Power surrounded her. Marian
clutched the knowledge to her, built the little being as a three-dimensional
entity. Marian used all her senses. Holding the image of the feycoocu in her
mind, Marian yelled,
SINAFIN!

The
Tower itself seemed to tremble with the reverberation of her cry.

Sinafin
perched on the curving wood of the footboard.
That might do
. Her wings
were hunched up around her head.

You
have learned your lesson
. The bird shot by Marian, curved beak skimming her
face, leaving a tingle.
Tell no one of this
. It disappeared through the
wall above Marian’s head.

“L-light,”
Marian gasped, and all the wall sconces, every candle and both fireplaces
flared to life.

It
wasn’t enough. She was chilled and could think of no spells that would warm her.

She
was so cold she couldn’t think—from the terror? Had Sinafin harmed her somehow?

As
the trembling subsided, Marian began to scrape together some logic and reason.
If Sinafin acted in the best interests of Lladrana, why had she terrorized
Marian? How could that help the land?

And
she wasn’t going to let a—a
vulture
intimidate her, keep her quiet. No.
Sinafin wouldn’t hurt her. If Sinafin was once a creature like Tuck—or if Tuck
could metamorphose into a being like Sinafin—a feycoocu was not an evil or cruel
entity. The reasoning cut through the last dregs of terror, let other thoughts
well up—how Marian had initially been amused and pleased with Sinafin, had
sensed that the fairy had been concerned for her, later approved of her.

Sinafin
had said she loved Alexa. A being like that wouldn’t torture without reason.
Would she?

“L
et’s send the
hamster ball to the Dark nest,” Chalmon said calmly as soon as they heard
Jaquar’s volaran take to the skies.

Venetria
jerked. “What? We decided to follow a different plan.”

“No,”
said Chalmon calmly. “Jaquar decided to remove himself from his original plan
and try another. It has merits, but he’ll fail. The Marshalls won’t listen to
him, and even if they do, they will take time to think and act. Didn’t they
wait nearly a year before informing the rest of Lladrana that the fence posts
were falling? Summoning an Exotique was their last, most desperate solution to
the problem.”

“They
are committed to fighting the Dark now,” Venetria said. “There are many more of
them. They’ll listen to Jaquar and move quickly.” She was speaking fast, but
she liked the new plan, didn’t want the worry and guilt that had enveloped her
when she’d considered the old solution to the Dark.

Chalmon
snorted. “Have you ever heard of a Marshall plane-walking? They won’t cooperate
with us, and they won’t want to fight on an ephemeral plane.”

“But
we don’t have the experience of the Marshalls in working together to do a
Sending or a Summoning. We might not be able to send the Exotique into the
nest.”

He
raised his eyebrows. “That’s why we need to follow through with the
experiment.” He glanced at the water clock. “Other Scholars and Circlets who
agree with me will be arriving momentarily to help.”

“Tonight?”
Venetria said blankly.

Chalmon
brushed a soft kiss over her mouth, the pure tenderness in the stream of his
Song softening her.

Then
the doorharp trilled and Bossgond answered to the first of fifteen people.
Venetria watched, torn, as he calmly prepared for plane-walking, a skill he
wasn’t proficient in. Finally, he was ready, and gestured the others to ascend
to his Ritual room on the top floor.

That
had been open and ready, too, and Chalmon hadn’t told her.

“I
know you are conflicted on this matter. I want to make it as easy as possible
for you.” He held out his hand. “I need our Song, too.”

“What
plane do you visit?” she asked dully.

“The
fifteenth.”

“One
Jaquar does not frequent.”

Chalmon
shrugged and his lips thinned. “You insist on remaining at your vulnerable
Tower. I will protect you with my last breath.”

She
tossed her head. “You want information about the Dark—”

“We
all do.”

“You
want to destroy the Dark’s nest.”

“A
worthy ambition.”

“Not
if it means sacrificing an innocent woman!”

“We’ve
had this discussion.” He dropped his hand and turned to the door. “Come or
stay.”

“What
if I say I will live with you until the Dark is destroyed?”

He
turned away, glittering gaze meeting hers. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Promise
on your keystone?”

“Yes.”

He
inhaled deeply, then let out the breath. “Then I’ll say we should go forward
with this experiment, just to see what happens.”

“Will
you consider Jaquar’s new plan?”

“We
will wait and watch.”

How
long? She didn’t want to push him, because then he would turn intractable. A
great weight bowed her down. She would be making hard choices. Walking up to
him, she put her hand in his. “I’ll come.”

The
Ritual passed quickly, as if each person had been practicing it. Only Venetria
and Chalmon and a third Circlet with an explosive arrow would actually travel,
the rest sang Songs that bonded them temporarily to Chalmon, sending him
strength. He, in turn, would allow those left behind to experience what he did.
He held the strange orb of the Exotique’s companion in his hand. It still
smelled.

Venetria
struggled to stay on the fifteenth plane, and Chalmon helped her. Finally they
reached the observation point overlooking the Dark’s maw.

Watch
for me, and tell me the next time the shield darkens
.

Her
form wavering, Venetria watched.
Now!
she cried.

With
a mental grunt of effort, Chalmon threw the clear hollow ball at the nest.
Another Circlet lobbed the small arrow of an explosive spell.

The
ball penetrated the shield.

The
seething maw stilled.

The
arrow broke as it hit the shield.

It
worked!
the other Circlet screamed.
Exotique essence harms the nest.

Venetria
lost control, and Chalmon and the other had to hold her within this plane.

But
the arrow failed. The Exotique Terre artifact was not strong enough
. Chalmon’s
mental voice held the hollow echoes of doom.
Watch the nest
, ordered
Chalmon.
Send me word when it is active once more
. He cut all the
strands but Venetria’s that sent him energy with a sweep of his arm. His form
shuddered, wisped into nothing. She followed, fearing what would come back to
his tower, where she would stay with him.

F
inally Marian
called Alexa.
Alexa!
she shouted.