In the pale light, they could see that the once broken earth now lay smooth and uninterrupted, only faint breaks in the tall grass or a heap of dirt or gravel testifying to the reality of her and Blind Seer’s recent peril. As Blind Seer had done, Farborn structured his flight in a gradually expanding spiral.
“Farborn has reached near where the earth rejected us,” Blind Seer said by the cant of his ears. “Will it know of his passage?”
For the course of the one more partial spiral, it seemed as if their surroundings would indeed be indifferent to the small falcon’s passage. Then, although the ground remained still, the air itself took exception to Farborn’s flight. Increasingly violent gusts battered the merlin from above, seeking to drive him against the earth, which, as if a creature that could grow mouths at will, began to gape and snap.
Firekeeper was about to race to the bird’s rescue, but Blind Seer stayed her with teeth gripping the base of her leather top and a low growl.
“No, sweet Firekeeper! Let Farborn prove himself. That falcon would rather lose one of those elegant, sharp-edged wings or his very life than need rescue so early in our venture. And I think…”
What Blind Seer thought became evident a few breaths later. Farborn dove as he might in a courting dance, using a berm of earth thrust up after one of the ground’s snaps to block the greater force of the gusts. Then he spun, leveling out to sweep a middle passage above the snapping earth and the heaving air.
Blind Seer had remembered that—unlike the peregrine Elation who relied on dives and the weight of her body to fell her prey—the merlin most often snatched smaller birds directly from the air. That speed and the ability to refine his course served Farborn well in this crisis. Once the merlin’s retreat was confirmed, the attacks by earth and air diminished. By the time the bird had landed on his favored tree near the door, the attacking elements were settling back into their more usual seeming lack of purpose.
“So,” Arasan said, blowing gently on the handleless pottery mug of fruit-scented tea he cupped between his hands, “there is a ward, definitely a ward, but one meant more to warn than to slay.”
“That’s good, right?” Laria asked from where she leaned against the building’s wall and sipped her own tea. “I mean that these Rhinadei people don’t want to kill anyone who’s willing to retreat, right?”
“I wish I was so sure this indicates an unwillingness to kill,” Arasan admitted. “They might wish to interrogate any intruders. Remember, Varelle arrived alone to meet us. If it were not for those wards, Firekeeper and Blind Seer could have run beyond her reach. This would have forced Varelle either to fight or to neutralize the three of us before going after them. This way we were all neatly contained, giving her the opportunity to judge us.”
“Point.” Laria sighed. “I hope we passed her first examination.”
“Well,” the Meddler offered, “we didn’t attack her or threaten her. Hopefully, that counted in our favor.”
“I wonder,” Laria said, pouring herself more tea, “how long we’ll need to wait before she comes back. She’ll need to answer some of our questions then, right?”
“Let them,” Firekeeper suggested, “ask us their questions first. Humans give away so much by what they say or not say. We have already given this Varelle much to think on. Now, maybe, she will give us something in return.”
III
VARELLE RETURNED ON the later edge of her promised two days. Laria knew that she was not the only one who had begun to wonder if the Gatewatcher would return at all. Their days had not been idle, though. They had recorded all the inscriptions, drawn the gate building in detail, and mapped to within a handspan or so the warded area that was their prison.
Island born and island raised, Laria and Farborn found the geographic constraints on their activities easy to bear, as did Arasan who had lived much of the last decade on the Nexus Islands. Firekeeper and the Meddler clearly felt trapped. Laria found it impossible to tell what Blind Seer felt, since the wolf spent much time asleep or wrestling with Firekeeper, seeming at these times very little a sorcerer in training and very much a large dog.
Nonetheless, the wolf was the first to detect Varelle when she returned. The humans were outside, soaking up the sun’s warmth, since this early in the spring the interior of the domed structure that held the gate could get very chilly. Farborn had been almost obsessive about keeping watch over the gate, but the merlin did need to hunt. It was during one of his ventures out after the small seed-eaters that were plentiful in the tall grasses that the Gatewatcher made her reappearance.
If Blind Seer greeted her with a low rumbling growl, Laria could hardly blame him, for on Varelle’s heels as she stepped into visibility were two large, broad-shouldered figures clad head to foot in smooth-surfaced, insectoid-styled armor. That each carried a long-shafted barbed spear and wore an oval shield over their left arm did not help them seem particularly unthreatening.
Varelle remained unarmed and unarmored as she had been before, but not one of them doubted that from the first the Gatewatcher had been thoroughly protected. Only a fool would confront strangers without a means of defense and, whatever else these people of Rhinadei were, Laria didn’t think they were fools.
As she walked forward, Varelle raised both hands in a “no weapons” gesture that was rendered empty by her definitely armed escort.
“I’m sorry I took so long to return. Your advent, while not unanticipated, generated tremendous debate.”
“Fruitful debate, I hope,” Arasan replied in his most polished manner, “for us as well as for you and your associates. Will you introduce us?”
Varelle’s deep sigh seemed to indicate that she was not precisely happy at having an escort. “This is Wjem and this is Mata. They are here as much to bear witness to my actions as to offer any threat to you.”
“When first you came, we do not offer threat,” Firekeeper said, her words husky with a growl to match Blind Seer’s. “Why would we change?”
“Because I am here to present you with the terms by which you may enter more of Rhinadei than this building and its grounds. There was concern that if you did not care for our terms, you might attempt to force the issue.”
“By taking hostage,” Firekeeper said. “Using love to bind is a cruel, human tactic. Wolves are more honest.”
“Perhaps.” Varelle’s tone was coolly noncommittal. “Would you care to hear our terms?”
Nods from Firekeeper and Blind Seer, a jerking bob from Farborn, who had come to rest on the tree near the door, and Arasan’s courtly, “We would welcome it,” were echoed by Laria’s soft “Sure.”
They gathered in the building, seating themselves on unrolled bedding. Firekeeper sat with her arm thrown loosely over Blind Seer’s back, while the wolf stretched full-length on the stone tiles. They both appeared completely relaxed, but Laria had seen the pair spring into action from just this pose. Farborn glided to perch on the ledge where dome met walls.
Varelle flourished open a campstool that Wjem presented her, then seated herself to face them, ignoring the armored pair who flanked her a pace behind, their spears at rest but not at ease.
Blind Seer eyed Wjem and Mata, and panted what Laria suspected was laughter, especially when Firekeeper reached to gently tweak one of his perked, slightly forward-tilted ears.
Varelle began her explanation before she was settled. “My understanding is that you came through the gate to learn where it led, as well as what manner of people—if any—lived on the other side. A secondary goal was this search Firekeeper mentioned—to find people who practiced spellcasting that did not rely upon blood magic.”
Nods from Arasan and Laria, but Firekeeper didn’t make even that token response. According to what Laria had learned, Firekeeper was much more tolerant of human chatter than she once had been, so Laria wondered. Was the wolf-woman really as bored as she seemed or was this a ploy to make, if not Varelle, her armored companions, underestimate her?
Varelle to
ok out a scroll tube and uncoiled a stiff sheet of parchment from within. As she spoke, she periodically consulted it.
“Surely you may consider the first part of your mission complete. You know where the gate leads, and have probably deduced that these lands are on the far side of the world. Therefore, we offer no immediate threat either to you of the Nexus Islands or to your allies whether in the Old World or the New. The reason the gate was sealed on this side is because we felt no need for contact with other cultures.
“However”—Varelle raised one finger— “now that contact has been made between us, and even though that contact seems to be from the most innocent of intents, we of Rhinadei are not children to believe that we can stick our heads under a pillow and what is out of sight will truly vanish. Indeed, during the debates over the last two days, some pointed out that a refusal to initiate at least limited contact with you and those you represent might arouse the very interest some of our number wish to discourage.”
Wjem, the armored figure to Varelle’s left, shifted slightly. Laria wondered if Varelle’s last words had significantly departed from her prepared script. If so, what warning was contained in that short phrase?
Or maybe I’m simply paranoid, Laria thought, swallowing a grin that might be misinterpreted. That armor looks very dramatic, but it’s probably stifling.
Varelle continued speaking. “After much discussion, it was decided that if you wish more extensive contact with us, then you must meet a challenge of our choosing. I will warn you here and now—it will be dangerous. If you do not succeed, it could well cost you your lives.”
“Sounds like something from a ballad,” Arasan commented, his manner easy. “Mysterious emissary, possibly mortal challenge. If we succeed at this challenge, what will we gain?”
Varelle’s lips shaped a slight smile. “If you succeed, then you will be treated as guests and given opportunity to learn more about Rhinadei. Perhaps commerce between our groups will begin then, perhaps not. At the very least, you will fully understand why that gate was so hidden, so sealed, so—we had hoped—forgotten. We might even suggest someone who could teach you about forms of magic that don’t involve the use of blood.”
Laria frowned to herself. Although Varelle had done her best to hide it, when she’d mentioned a teacher, she’d seemed excited? Agitated? Although Laria wasn’t sure about the emotion, she felt certain the bland phrasing hid something. Arasan must have noticed, too, but when he spoke he gave no indication. Laria heard the Meddler in his next question.
“And if one or more of us does not choose to take up this challenge, what happens to those?”
“Let us speak of that after you have heard what the challenge will be,” Varelle countered. “You will be better equipped to know whether or not you care to participate.”
Arasan glanced at the others, but met with no response other than a slight “We want to know, right?” shrug from Laria. Actually, what Varelle would see as a lack of response might not actually be the case. Laria had long suspected that the Meddler and Firekeeper could talk between themselves without being heard by others; the Beasts certainly could do so.
“Very well,” Arasan replied. “Tell us what this challenge is.”
Varelle glanced at the sheet of paper and began to read aloud. Something in her tone—perhaps how very careful she was to keep it even, not expressing opinions even through inflections—made Laria think that Varelle felt some disagreement with what was written there.
But is it with the challenge itself or that a challenge is being offered? Might Varelle feel that her role as Gatewatcher—as the one who judges newcomers—has been usurped?
“You have already witnessed how, outside of a certain physical boundary, the very earth and air contest your passage?” Varelle looked for a response, but this time not even Arasan and Laria offered polite nods, only waited braced for what would come next. “The challenge is to cross out of this area, then make your way to the vale that is contained between the peak of the two mountains we call the Giant’s Last Stand.”
Laria recalled seeing two mountain-high columns of stone, so perfectly matched for height and breadth that it wasn’t hard to imagine them as the legs of a giant cut off mid-thigh.
Varelle continued, “You may make this crossing in any way you choose but for one—you may not employ blood magic.”
This time Varelle’s words did receive a response—a huff from Firekeeper and a flapping of Farborn’s wings. Then Arasan repeated his earlier question.
“And if all of our company does not wish to take the risk such a crossing would entail?”
“No one is required to accept the challenge.”
“Will we be permitted to return home?”
“Under certain terms. If you do not take the challenge, you must submit to a seal on how much you may communicate—by speech, action, or written means—of what you experienced here. Instead of remembering what actually happened, you will recall that the gate led to nowhere of interest. We will even provide details of why—perhaps an isolated landmass tormented by erratic weather that, after some exploration, you realized was an isolated island. For our own part, we will re-seal—more strongly—the gate on our side.”
Arasan retorted, “That solution assumes that all of us will be in accord as to what action to take. What if our numbers are split?”
“Then those who choose not to partake will remain here, under watch, but treated as guests, not prisoners.”
Laria shook her head. “Except that those people would be prisoners, because they would be held here, right?”
“If you choose to see it that way. If the challenge was not met, eventually the holdouts would be permitted to leave, but only under the terms we have already outlined. Surely you see that we must protect ourselves. If we let those who are not willing to prove themselves go back to the Nexus Islands and report what they have learned—scant as that may be—who is to say what they may bring down on us?”
“That makes sense,” Laria grudgingly agreed.
Firekeeper spoke for the first time. “Can we go back, bring others who may be more suited to this challenge?”
“No. Some or all of those already here are the only ones we will permit to cross our borders.”
Turning to Firekeeper and Laria, Arasan shrugged. “We could ask for privacy to confer, but since we have no means of knowing if we would really be private, we might as well discuss here and now.”
Firekeeper’s nod was sharp and decisive. “Let Blind Seer and me go. Maybe Farborn, too, if for no other reason than he can carry a message back to you if we fail.”
“No!” Laria was almost astonished to realize her mind was made up. “I want to go with you. I could help. What if Blind Seer fell again? Extra hands would be useful, right?”
“You are not useless,” Firekeeper agreed. “Think you this challenge is something where your gifts might serve?”
“They might,” Laria replied. She glanced at Varelle, then at the impassive armored figures. “You know I am very good at some sorts of scouting.”
Firekeeper grinned, that teeth-bared wolf smile that was wicked and merry at once.
“So you are.” She faced Arasan. “And you? Will you run with us or remain to bear tales to those at home? Either choice has value.”
“I’ll go,” Arasan replied. He looked at Varelle. “But you should know. If we all vanish, then your gate will be assaulted again and again until those who sent us learn our fate. The people of the Nexus Islands are very loyal to their own. Consider that before you and those you speak for make this challenge unfair.”
“Is that a threat?”
Arasan shook his head. “It is a courtesy. Hard as it may be for you to believe, Firekeeper is too well loved for her to vanish and expect none to seek to know her fate.”
Varelle looked amused. “Just her? Does the loyalty of the Nexus Islands not extend to the rest of you?”
“Let us say, that Firekeeper in particular would be sought fo
r,” Arasan replied. He twinkled as if wishing he could share a private joke. “Maybe when your people and ours become friends, you will understand.”
Varelle laughed. “I hope I will—sincerely so. Very well. I will bear word of both your acceptance and your warning.”
She was turning away when Firekeeper interrupted her.
“How long before this challenge starts?”
“By tomorrow’s dawn,” Varelle said and her words held the ring of a promise. “You will be given as many hours of daylight as possible to begin your journey, that I can assure you. If any protest my decision on this point, I will stress the need for this to be a true challenge, not an execution wrapped in fair words.”
When first light pinked the horizon, the small group left the domed building, moved quickly across the garden, and then stepped across the unmarked boundary. Firekeeper and Blind Seer were in the middle of their line, with Laria to Blind Seer’s left and Arasan/the Meddler to Firekeeper’s right. Farborn rested on Firekeeper’s leather-padded shoulder. Laria had been surprised when the wolves did not automatically insist on taking point. When questioned, Firekeeper had flashed her teeth in one of those oddly wolfish smiles and shrugged.
“We two know no more, maybe less, than you and Arasan. Where we were born, except for a few talents, there is no magic, no spells. Fear caused by the rumor of a few left-behind enchanted artifacts drove five nations to fight or threaten war. You and Arasan must be our teacher in this magical land, or so we think. Farborn has said that when there is need he will scout for us all, although not too far ahead.”
Something in the wolf-woman’s tone as she said this last made Laria think that there had been some unheard argument between the wolves and Farborn regarding just how far the merlin should range. Laria walked slowly forward, hoping that she wouldn’t fall short of the others’ expectations. She fought back an urge to reach out and rest her hand on Blind Seer’s back as she had seen Firekeeper do so many times. After all, she wouldn’t reach out to hold Arasan’s hand so, if she touched the wolf, it would be because on some level she didn’t respect him as a person. And he was a person, Firekeeper’s person…
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