When the lesson ended, the drillmaster called her over while the rest of the advanced class went grumbling off to the baths.
“Just what were you trying during the exercises, Larrinar?” the woman demanded.
Awkwardly, Kayl tried to explain. To her surprise, the drill master listened patiently until she finished, then said, “Why?”
Kayl took a deep breath. “Because I want to be the best.”
“Do you.” The instructor studied her with interest. “Well, we’ll see. In the meantime, you can join the ri Luethold girl tonight for the extra work. And you’ll do the same every night until you stop making mistakes in the exercise pattern. You may go.”
Kayl went. “But I will be the best,” she whispered to herself as she hurried after her classmates.
“Me, too,” said a voice behind her.
Kayl stopped and turned, raising her sword automatically. She found herself facing a tiny, black-haired imp of a girl. Kayl recognized her in a vague sort of way; she was in a different section of Kayl’s own age group. “Sorry,” Kayl said, lowering her sword.
The girl grinned. “S’all right; I duck quick. What’re you going to be best at?”
“I’m a sword-wearer; what do you think?” Kayl replied with a touch of annoyance. She hadn’t meant to be overheard, and she was afraid she was going to be laughed at.
“There’s lots of possibilities,” the black-haired girl said seriously. “There’s swordplay, and knife work, and bare-hand, and throwing, and archery, and that’s not even all the fighting skills. So—which one are you going to be best at?”
“All of them,” Kayl said sharply, hoping that when she had her answer the girl would go away. “Fighting and tactics and—”
The girl interrupted with a crow of delight. “I knew it! I knew you were the right one! Come on, come on, you have to meet Varevice.”
She grabbed Kayl’s arm and succeeded in pulling her several steps before Kayl found the presence of mind to dig in her heels. “Wait a minute! Who are you? And what do you think you’re doing?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m Barthelmy. Varevice and I are putting a Star Cluster together.”
“Aren’t you in the same group as I am? It’ll be two years yet before we’re allowed to make up our Stars!”
“There’s nothing that says we can’t practice now. Besides, you have to start early if you want to be the best,” Barthelmy said sagely. “And we’re going to be the best.”
“And you want me to join? What makes you think I’m the best at anything?”
“You’re not, yet. None of us are. But we’re going to be.”
“How can you tell?” Kayl asked, intrigued.
“Well, first you pick out the people who are good. That part’s pretty easy. Then you pick out the ones who work, even though they’re already good. And then you look for someone who really wants to be the best.”
“Oh? And what do you want to be best at?”
Barthelmy tossed her head, sending witchlocks of black hair flying in all directions. “I’m a demon-friend,” she said defiantly. “And someday I’m going to go to Varna and make them let every one of their sklathran’sy go free.”
Kayl laughed in spite of herself. “All by yourself?”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid!” Barthelmy said. “That’s why I need to be part of the best Star in the whole Sisterhood.” She looked at Kayl anxiously. “Well? Will you at least come meet Varevice?”
Kayl hesitated, then nodded. She felt warmed by Barthelmy’s interest, and it couldn’t hurt to go along with her now. It would be two years before any of them were assigned to permanent Stars.
“Good!” Barthelmy said. She linked elbows with Kayl and did a little skip-kick as they started walking. “Now all we have to do is find the best healer, and we have our Star!”
* * *
Kayl sat beside the narrow window, grinning broadly and swirling the wine in her cup as she watched the others. All four of their tiny lamps were burning scented oil tonight in celebration.
“We did it!” Barthelmy crowed, raising her cup high.
“You’ve said that at least eight times since Mother Anaya told us we could be a Star,” Varevice pointed out, but she raised her own cup to join the salute.
“Well, I haven’t tired of hearing it yet,” Kayl said, joining them. “Come on, Evla, you too!”
Evla rose. Her slanted green eyes narrowed in amusement as she raised her cup. “How could I not? Someone must uphold the quality of our Star Cluster, and I would not leave that task to you humans!”
Kayl laughed with the others. Evla had faultlessly imitated the aloof and occasionally superior tone adopted by many Shee when speaking with the human inhabitants of Lyra.
“To the best Star in the Sisterhood!” Barthelmy said, and drained her cup.
“To the success of two years of hard work,” Varevice said with satisfaction as she followed suit.
“To the friendship that brought us together, and the work that will keep us so,” Evla said softly, and sipped at her wine.
“To all of us,” Kayl said. She looked at their familiar faces and felt a lump rise in her throat. “To all of you. My family.” She held her cup aloft a moment more, then drained it dry.
“You’ve made quite a name for yourselves in the last three years,” Mother Anaya said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Your Wisdom,” Evla said for all of them.
“Normally we wouldn’t ask you to go out again so soon, but this is… rather special.” She paused. “You do have a choice.”
“Special in what way?” Kayl asked. She was their strategist and warrior, as Evla was healer and Varevice sorceress.
Mother Anaya’s mouth wrinkled in distaste. “For one thing, there will be several Varnans traveling with you.”
“Varnans!” Barthelmy said angrily. “But—”
“I know, child, but there’s no help for it,” Mother Anaya said. She sighed and sat back. “There’s something odd going on in the Windhome Mountains. Varna still lays claim to parts of that area; if we send a Star to investigate without their permission, we run the risk of starting a second Wizard’s War.”
“What sort of goings-on require the attention of a Star so urgently?” Varevice asked quietly.
“Magic. Something old, powerful, and very well hidden. The Elder Mothers discovered it by accident; some kind of echo effect in one of their spells.”
Varevice looked intrigued, but she had sense enough not to ask for the details and the theory of the spell immediately. Mother Anaya glanced at her sharply, then went on, “If it’s as powerful as the Elder Mothers think, I don’t have to tell you what will happen if the Circle of Silence hears of it. And it wouldn’t matter to them if they started another war.”
“We understand,” Varevice said. Kayl nodded her agreement. Barthelmy scowled angrily.
Evla put a restraining hand on Barthelmy’s arm. “You know it is important,” the healer said gently.
“Yes, but cooperating with Varnans?”
“The alternative would be worse.”
“Well… all right. I’ll go.”
“Then you’re all agreed.” Mother Anaya looked pleased. “I’ll let Mother Dalessi know. You’ll have a few days’ rest before the Varnan group arrives; make the most of it.”
“How many of them will there be?” Kayl asked.
“Three wizards, and five slaves.” Mother Anaya’s mouth wrinkled again, as if she found the word distasteful.
Barthelmy started to object again, but Kayl frowned her into silence. “And their names?”
“They didn’t give us the names of the slaves. The wizards will be Beshara al Allard, Glyndon shal Morag, and Kevran ker Rondal.”
The fire was almost out. Stiffly, Kayl rose and knelt on the stones of the inn’s hearth. Her fingers traced the familiar shapes, feeling for the hidden latch. When she found it, she hesitated. Then she scowled at her own indecision and pressed the catch.
For a moment she was afraid that the mechanism had rusted or jammed during the years it had gone unused. Then, without so much as a click, the stone in front of her dropped three fingers’ breadths into the floor and slid to one side. Kayl leaned forward and picked up the heavy, cloth-wrapped bundle in the cavity beneath it.
The hidden cache extended under the other hearthstones, and the bundle was a tight fit. Kayl had lost the knack of removing it quickly; she had to work it carefully back and forth until she found the angle that allowed her to lift it free. She set it gently on the hearth in front of her, and hesitated once more. Then she reached out and turned back the thick folds of oilcloth.
The dying fire gleamed golden from the hilt of a sheathed sword and sent back shining splinters from a rod of dark, oiled wood. The rod was a slender, unmarked cylinder; Kevran had never been one for decorations. The sword was a wicked-looking rapier with a hilt made of silvery metal. The hilt was inlaid with an eight-pointed star, with a milky stone at its center.
Kayl reached out and took the hilt of the rapier in her hand. It felt cool and familiar, and at the same time a little strange, like a half-forgotten dream. She drew the blade and stood, hefting it. Then she swung it in a hard, flat arc.
The air sang softly as the sword cut through it, then was silent. Slowly, Kayl lowered the sword. She could feel the unaccustomed weight pulling at her muscles. Too much of that and she’d be sore tomorrow. The hilt pressed against her hand in all the wrong places; her calluses came from brooms and buckets now, not weapons.
It was foolish to think she might go back. Swordplay was a game for younger women. Kayl was thirty-six; even if she had kept in training, she would be starting to lose her edge. Experience could compensate for slowing reflexes and muscles that tired more easily, but her experience was nearly fifteen years in the past.
And even if she could harden her muscles and hone her reflexes once more, what could she do with Mark and Dara while she trained—and afterward? The life of a wandering warrior was hardly suitable for raising children. The Sisterhood would help, if she went back to them, but they would not be able to do anything about the separations that would be necessary when she had to go to Toltan or Rathane.
Kayl stared down at the sword. Then, even more slowly than before, she stooped and replaced it in the oilcloth bundle. Carefully, she set the bundle back into its hiding place beneath the hearth. Her fingers touched the latch, and the stone slid smoothly back into place. She stood and banked the fire with mechanical precision, then left the room without finishing the clearing up.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Kayl woke at dawn next day; her usual habits were reasserting themselves. A steady, drenching rain still fell outside her window. As she dressed in the semidarkness, Kayl thought of the mud and groaned. Mark was sure to drag it all over the inn if she didn’t watch him closely.
She finished dressing and went out into the serving room. The unwashed bowls and mugs reproached her with their silent presence. Kayl looked at them with resentment. Even an innkeeper ought to be allowed a few moments of self-indulgence now and then! Two of the mugs clacked together as she scooped them angrily off of one of the tables. Kayl blinked and shook herself. She was behaving as badly as Mark, sulking because the world would not turn to her liking. She set the mugs down more carefully and went on with her work.
The familiar tasks were oddly comforting. Kayl did them like a sleepwalker performing a ritual: light the fire, draw the water, open the shutters, sweep the floor. She did the children’s chores as well as her own. Mark and Dara were tired after two busy nights in a row; let them sleep for now.
The children emerged at last, just as two of the inn’s guests were leaving. Kayl collected her money and saw the guests off before turning back to Mark and Dara. Dara was frowning after the departing guests and chewing her lower lip. “Something wrong?” Kayl asked.
“Nnnnno. It’s just that we’ve only got one room full now. And that’s not enough; I heard you tell Bryn so once.”
“Two rooms,” Kayl corrected. “You’ve forgotten the man who arrived last night.” She caught herself just in time to avoid giving Glyndon’s name, and wondered again why he had asked for such secrecy.
“Oh.” Dara’s expression lightened. “That’s all right, then. Where’s breakfast?”
“Waiting for you in the kitchen. I’ve done most of your early chores, so you two can go right in and get started.”
“Done the chores?” Mark said, staring in bewildered surprise. “But—”
Dara dug her elbow into his ribs. When he turned to glare at her, she gave him a significant look. “Thanks, Mother,” she said. “Come on, Mark.”
“Thanks,” Mark echoed, and followed her.
Kayl watched them go, wondering what they’d been plotting this time. They ought to go to Currin’s for lessons today, and for once she wouldn’t have to worry about how to pay him. After two busy evenings, she had a pleasant surplus of coins. She frowned, wishing she could afford more than two afternoons of lessons each week. Perhaps if her luck held, and the inn stayed busy until people started heading for the Fall Fairs…
She heard a sound on the stair and looked up. It was Corrana, dressed once more in her black traveling robes. Kayl cleared her throat, knowing what was coming. “May I help you, Your Virtue?”
“I have hope of it. I have come for your decision.”
“I still don’t see why you want me,” Kayl temporized.
“Because you have been to the Twisted Tower,” Corrana said. “And because you were one of the best.”
The unconscious echo of Barthelmy’s long-ago dream struck Kayl like a blow. “We failed at the Tower,” she said harshly. “And I’m not one of the best anymore, not after fifteen years without even practicing. You’ll have to look elsewhere, Your Virtue; I have no reason to go back to the Tower.”
Corrana sighed. “Will you at least come with me to Kith Alunel and hear the Elder Mothers’ reasons for wanting you to return to the Twisted Tower?”
“Kayl, don’t do it.”
Kayl turned her head, startled, to find Glyndon shal Morag standing on the stairs. “Glyndon, what—”
“Don’t go back,” Glyndon repeated. His face was pale, and he looked unwell. “Anywhere else, but not the Tower.”
“A Varnan!” Corrana said with loathing.
“A guest at this inn,” Kayl corrected. She was surprised that Corrana had placed Glyndon’s accent so quickly, but her main emotion was irritation. She had no wish to be caught in a confrontation between Corrana and Glyndon.
Corrana ignored her words. “So this is why you resist my appeal! I should have guessed. Your husband was also a Varnan, was he not?”
“Get out of here,” Kayl said in a voice of deadly calm. “Take your magic and your memories and go. And tell the Elder Mothers not to send anyone else. I’m staying here.”
“No!” Glyndon half fell the rest of the way down the stairs. “You musn’t stay, either.” He staggered to the nearest table, sank onto a bench, and hid his face in his hands.
Corrana’s expression changed to surprise, then wariness. When Glyndon did not move or look up, she leaned forward. “Don’t touch him!” Kayl said sharply as the sorceress reached for Glyndon.
“I mean no harm,” Corrana said coldly. “I only wish to know if he is unwell, as he seems.”
“He is,” Kayl said grimly. “Don’t touch him! You’ll only make it worse.”
Corrana’s eyes narrowed, but she let her hand drop. “You seem to know much of this ‘guest.’ ”
Kayl rose without replying and fetched a mug of wine. She set it on the table a handspan from Glyndon’s elbow and watched the Varnan carefully until he gave a deep, shuddering sigh. Then she said, “Glyndon. Drink.”
Glyndon lowered his hands and reached for the mug. He half drained it in three swallows. When he set it down, he still looked tired and worn, but some of the color had returned to his face. “Tha
nk you,” he said.
“I’m more interested in an explanation than in thanks,” Kayl said. “Particularly since you chose your time for this so carefully.”
“What?” Glyndon looked around. When he saw Corrana his shoulders sagged. “So. That much was real.”
“Who are you?” Corrana demanded.
“My name is Glyndon shal Morag.”
Corrana nodded. “You were one of the three Varnan wizards who went to the Windhome Mountains with the First Star of Kith Alunel,” she stated.
“Yes.”
“I see.” Corrana glanced at Kayl. “Now I understand more fully your willingness to take his advice.”
“You know nothing of the matter,” Kayl said.
“I know enough to apologize to you both for my hasty words.” Corrana looked from Kayl to Glyndon and went on with difficulty. “I have no love for Varnans, but I should not have spoken as I did. I am sorry.”
Glyndon nodded tiredly. “After fifteen years away from Varna, I’ve heard far worse than anything you said. For myself, consider it forgotten.”
Corrana dipped her head in acknowledgement, but her eyes stayed fixed on Kayl. “And you, sister?”
“I accept your apology as well,” Kayl said in a tight voice. “But if you are wise, you will not speak of my husband in that tone again.” Corrana nodded without speaking, and Kayl went on: “Now, I wish to speak with Glyndon. Alone.”
“No,” Corrana said calmly. “Not if it has bearing on my errand here.”
“You presume a good deal, Your Virtue.”
“I think not. Your friend overheard enough of our conversation to interrupt with some precision. I think that in simple justice I should hear his reasons.”
Kayl heard the determination in Corrana’s voice. She pressed her lips together, knowing that she could not keep the sorceress from staying. Glyndon might try, but that would precipitate just the confrontation Kayl had hoped to avoid. “This is a personal matter,” she said at last.
[Lyra 04] - Caught in Crystal Page 6