“Does it look familiar to you?” Laerdish almost taunted.
Marda cried out and rushed toward Ember with a despairing yell. She reached the edge of the circle where Ember stood and was thrown back by an energy field. She scrabbled at it like a crazed woman, screaming incoherently.
Ember watched, stunned. She hadn’t thought her mother really loved her. She’d spent a lifetime trying to squirrel out from under her thumb, but the panic and near insanity of her mother’s actions made it clear that Marda loved her very much. Ember’s mother pounded against the invisible wall and shrieked through her sobs.
“What have you done with my daughter?”
The instant the question was out of Marda’s lips, Ember found herself able to speak once again. She took advantage of it while she could.
“Mum! Mum, I am your daughter! I turned into a wolf to get away from Ian Covainis when he tried to kidnap me, and then Uncle Shad taught me to turn into a boy so Ian couldn’t find me, and then Uncle Shad found me a room, but I couldn’t bathe with the men because I didn’t have boy parts, so he told me to change back into a girl to get a bath, and so I did, and I saw you there, I talked to you, and then I changed back into a boy for my test, and now nobody believes I’m Ember because I look like some spy of C’Tan’s. Can you believe that?” Ember spat it all out in one breath as fast as she could.
Marda looked at her like she was crazy. “You’re Ember.” She laughed a little hysterically, then stopped as suddenly as she began. “Don’t you think I would know if my daughter was capable of this kind of magic? Wouldn’t a mother know?” Bitter tears rained from her eyes. Marda wiped at them with a closed fist.
“It only started the day I left. Remember when I changed the dress? I didn’t even know I could do things like that until that day, and then I was so scared when Ian caught me, I changed all of a sudden, just like Da—”
“Stop!” Marda covered her ears. Ember suddenly found her mouth frozen again. She wanted to grind her teeth in frustration, but she was denied even that pleasure.
“I would have known! I don’t know how you learned about the dress, but you are not my daughter! You can’t be! Now tell me where she is, and I may be able to convince the council to go easy on you, but if you do not tell me where she is, and right now, I will be there when they sentence and punish you, and I’ll be cheering them on and demanding more. Now, where is my daughter?”
“I am your daughter!” Ember cried back, freed again by the question. “Please, Mum, it’s me. Tell them to release me for just a few minutes, and I’ll change back to my real self. You’ll see it’s really me. I can prove it to you.”
“Or you might be a spy, trying to trick us so you can escape,” Laerdish answered for Marda. “We are not foolish enough to do such a thing, boy. You will stay bound until your guilt is proven.”
“Or innocence, perhaps,” another familiar voice responded. Ember’s fear eased with his arrival. It was Ezeker, Aldarin at his side. If anyone would know her from the inside out, it would be these two. Aldarin had already guessed the truth—maybe Ezeker would as well.
Laerdish spun to face the newcomers, his face reddening under Ezeker’s accusing eyes, but he controlled his expression and yielded the floor to Ezeker. He bowed himself back to his previously abandoned seat.
“But of course, headmaster,” the gaudy man fawned. “That is what I meant. Until guilt or innocence are proven.”
“You have overstepped your bounds, Laerdish. You had no call to begin this council without my presence,” Ezeker said in a low tone.
“I only stood in your place until you were found. I was assured you would be here shortly. Now that you have arrived, the floor is yours.”
Laerdish sat daintily despite his bulk, but Ember saw him glower at Ezeker when the headmaster’s back turned.
Headmaster. The meaning finally occurred to Ember. No wonder he had pushed her all these years—he was head of the mage academy, and she had never known, never even suspected. She wanted to ask him about it, but again the spell left her speechless and frozen until she was questioned.
“Just in case this truly is Ember Shandae, why don’t we return the pendant to her.” Ezeker did not make it a request. He stood next to Marda, his hand out, waiting.
“That is not my daughter, Ezeker, and you know it!” Marda snarled at him.
“I know no such thing, Marda, and if you’d let your heart get out of the way of your head, you’d know the same. Now give me the pendant.”
“But—” she started.
“Give me the pendant,” he demanded, more forcefully.
Marda glared, then threw the pendant into his hand and stormed away to stand by the door. Ezeker turned and nodded to the two front guards, who nodded in return. They pulled their swords and put the tips of them together on the floor, forming a “V.” There was a flash where the tips met before they pulled the swords upward to man height, and then apart, leaving a glimmering shield of blue between them. It stood as a portal through the shield that kept Ember separate. Ezeker moved purposefully toward that glowing blue doorway despite the objections sounding behind him, led mostly by Laerdish.
“Sir, I must insist—” the large man shouted, clambering to his feet.
Ezeker stopped in the doorway, one foot on Ember’s side, a snarl of crackling energy surrounding his leg. “Let things be, Laerdish. I’m safe enough here. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, now, would you?” he said over his shoulder. Laerdish didn’t respond, though he continued to advance. Ezeker took two steps forward, the energy surrounding his body for a moment so his hair and beard stood out around him. Once he was inside, the guards quickly lowered their swords back to the floor, and the portal collapsed. Laerdish stood on the other side, glowering but unable to get through.
Ezeker approached Ember, his eyes wary, but hopeful. “Is it really you, child?”
His question freed her from the spell, and she nearly sobbed with relief. “Yes, Uncle Ezzie, it’s me! Please get me out of here. I can’t move or speak unless someone asks me a question, and it makes it awfully hard to defend myself. Mum doesn’t even believe me.”
“It’s the manacles, child. They dampen your magic and will. The only problem is proving to the council that you are indeed the Ember Shandae I know and love. They won’t accept your word for it, nor mine either, I’m afraid, and most things you could say to prove your identity could have been received from another source. Is there anyone who has known you as both your male and female self, child?”
“Yes! Uncle Shad has seen me, but I don’t know where he is. He was staying in the council house, but he didn’t come when I passed his room and screamed at him.”
Ezeker seemed startled. “Shad? You mean White Shadow of the Bendanatu? You’ve met him?”
Ember nodded vigorously. “Yes, Uncle Shad saved me when I escaped from Ian Covainis after he kidnapped me and I turned into a wolf. He’s traveling with a mute named DeMunth—”
Ezeker threw back his head and started to laugh. Ember was not sure why, and it offended her.
“Ezeker! This is no time to be laughing!”
“No, child, you are wrong. This is the perfect time to be laughing. Aldarin! Come here, my boy!” Ezeker called out to Ember’s stepbrother, who stood silently by the doorway. He came quickly, his armor clanking. He winked at Ember when he got close enough for her to see. Ezeker gestured for the guards to open the portal, and once more they created the glimmering blue doorway with their swords. The old mage stuck his head through the wall and whispered to his captain of the guard. In a matter of seconds, Aldarin was grinning from ear to ear.
“As you wish, master.” He nodded once and backed away, bowing, then turned and strode purposefully through the double doors.
Ezeker stepped back from the portal as it dissolved, and turned to Ember. “I cannot take those manacles off until a majority of the council approves it, and at this moment, that is not the way things stand. Laerdish has done some damage
to your reputation, but that is something we may still be able to repair. We can free you and get you into the academy in one swoop. Will you work with me?”
“Of course, but why do you believe me when even Mum doesn’t?”
Ezeker stepped forward and put the pendant around her neck, then winked at her as it sank beneath her skin once again. “Because I know you better than anyone thinks, Ember. I know your potential, I know your spirit—and I know you are the only person alive who would dare to call me ‘Uncle Ezzie’ without pause.”
Ember grinned back at him, relief washing over her. “So tell me what to do, Uncle Ezzie, so I can get out of here.”
“First, I need you to read the colors of all the magi. It will be a lot of work, but I need you to prove that you are capable of being that which your test claims.”
“Which is?”
“Why, a white mage, of course,” he said.
“A what?” she asked, her mind just now grasping the impossible, though why she hadn’t connected the thoughts before, she didn’t know. “But Uncle Shad told me there hasn’t been a white mage for three thousand years. Nobody knows anything about them, so how can I be one?”
“We know a little. We know they are able to do all the magic—and we have the test in place that tells us how to recognize one. If you are truly able to see all the colors of magic, as the test shows, then you are a white mage.” He watched her closely.
The room spun around her for a moment, and Ember reached out for something to steady herself before the floor got too close. Ezeker took her arm and held her up until her vision cleared. “I’m a white mage?” she said, her mind still trying to grasp the implications.
“But of course. What else could you be, child?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t . . . I mean, I never really thought about it, I guess.”
“Well, you’d better think about it now, Ember, because the potential is definitely there, and it is something you need to learn quickly. Not only does our world need your help in healing, but until you understand your capabilities, you are in danger—and not only from the followers of S’Kotos. There are many who will wish to undermine or destroy you for what you are—not because you are a threat to them, but because your power is greater and your experience less. They will destroy you out of envy and spite. Think now and think hard, Ember, because what you decide will change your life and anger a lot of people. You can choose to become a mage and harness the power you’ve been given, or you can choose to deny it and close yourself to the world of magic. The one makes you free, but the other is much, much safer. There is a whole other world out there waiting to be discovered and used. Perhaps even . . . well, we’ll go there later. Right now I am asking only three things of you. One—tell each of the council members the colors you see around them. Two—decide whether or not you want to be a mage. And three—trust me.”
Ember was overwhelmed by his requests. They seemed so simple, and yet they were not. She didn’t think identifying the council members would be difficult, and trusting Ezeker was never an issue, but deciding whether to become a mage or not scared her. She had thought she wanted nothing more than that, but her experiences of the past hour had shown her a different side to the mage world, a place where you could not automatically trust someone just because they were a mage, a place where people would use you to elevate themselves, or put you down because they couldn’t stand the idea of your power. Did she really want to be a part of that world? Did she really want to give up the life she had known to live and study amongst people like this?
Ember pondered for a long moment, searching her heart and soul to feel which way was best, and in the end it all came down to one thing.
The magic.
For Ember, the magic had nothing to do with power, stature, or political maneuverings, and had everything to do with helping people and soaring free. She could not be anything different than what she was.
She was a white mage.
Ember nodded slowly to Ezeker. “I will accept, Uncle Ezzie. I’ll do as you ask.”
He didn’t smile. “Are you sure, child? This is a serious commitment, a thing you never can run away from, and it will change you forever,” he reminded her, placing a gnarled hand on her shoulder.
She straightened and met his eye. “I know. It’s worth it, Ezeker. It’s what I’ve been waiting for my entire life. It’s who I am. I have to do this, no matter where it leads me.”
Ezeker smiled then, a soft, proud smile, and squeezed her shoulders tight in a grandfatherly hug. “I’m proud of you, child,” he whispered in her ear and let her go.
At that moment the big double doors swung open again, and Ember’s champions swaggered into the room, looking none too happy.
“Have I missed the party?” Shad asked the assembly, slamming a menacing-looking cudgel into his oversized hand. DeMunth looked deadly beside him with a drawn sword and glowing golden armor shielding him. “Because I hate to miss a party, and it seems you left my name off the list.”
Shad glared at Laerdish. “Let her go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kayla shivered and pulled her damp woolen cloak closer about her shoulders. It did no good, but instinct made her try. She trudged down the tube of air that carved itself out of the ocean’s bottom, feet dragging and sinking into the sand with a light swish. What had begun as an exciting adventure, a journey to the home of her father, had lost its excitement and interest for her not even thirty minutes into it. There was nowhere to go but onward, and she was sick of even the glimmer of faint blue light that guided her steps. She was about to fall to the creamy sand and refuse to take even one more step when T’Kato called a halt.
“Hold up, Kayla. Let’s rest for a bit.” He dropped the satchels and squatted down. Kayla didn’t have a bag to drop, thankfully or regretfully—she hadn’t decided which yet, but she did collapse to the sand, her knees giving completely out about halfway down. At that moment she couldn’t have cared less; she was too grateful for the break. She only wished she could stop her chattering teeth and trembling hands. Her fingernails were turning a faint blue, or so she thought. It was hard to tell, with the dim sapphire-tinted light that sifted through the water surrounding them.
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped the cloak around her legs, trying to trap even a marginal amount of body heat in the closed wool. It helped a little, and the shaking in her hands seemed to decrease.
Sarali squatted by her then, her hand outstretched. “Eat a bit o’ this, lass. Tisn’t much, but it will be strengthenin’ ye a wee bit, though the taste leaves much to be desired.”
Kayla reluctantly took the soggy-looking mess Sarali held out and sniffed. It didn’t smell any better than it looked—oats, nuts, and berries pressed into bars, now more resembling a badly-made bowl of porridge than anything else, and if there was anything Kayla hated, it was porridge. Still . . . it was food, and she had eaten nothing in who knew how long. She had lost track of the hours in this dark and never-ending tunnel. She took a tentative bite, chewed slowly, and had to agree with Sarali. It certainly didn’t taste good—soggy oats with all sweetness washed away, and only the nuts and berries to give it any flavor. She ate it anyway and had to admit that she did feel better with something in her belly, a bit more energized, though not quite ready to move. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready to move again, she was so tired.
“Sip this,” T’Kato said, handing her a small cup. Kayla almost spilled it with a sneeze. It smelled awful. Vile. She tried to give the cup back to T’Kato, shaking her head, but he pushed it back. “It’s not as bad as it smells. It will warm you up, trust me.“ He helped lift the cup to her lips. She tried to take just a teeny amount, but T’Kato tipped the cup, and Kayla’s face would have been washed with the mixture if she had not opened her mouth and gulped it down. The mixture burned all the way. Even when she stopped drinking, her mouth burned. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she couldn’t close her mouth with the fire that seem
ed to be pouring from it. Finally she caught her breath enough to gasp, “What are you trying to do, poison me? What’s in that?”
T’Kato smiled. “It’s a chili drink my people favor, made from certain warming herbs and hot peppers. It’s not much for flavor when you drink it straight like this, I know, but it will keep you warm and stop those shivers.“
It wasn’t exactly the way she had wanted to warm up and was nothing compared to a cozy fire and bear skin rug, but it would do under the circumstances—though she couldn’t quite bring herself to thank the man. He had tricked her, after all, asking her to trust him. She’d think twice before doing that again.
Kayla leaned her head on her knees and closed her eyes to rest for a moment. It was hard to comprehend all that had transpired in the past three days. The emotion and longing that swept over her was like nothing she had known before. Tears leaked down between her knees, and she tried to hide the sniffles. It was childish to cry like this. She knew it, but could not stop the stream of tears. All she wanted at that moment was to be held in Brant’s arms, or to feel the warmth of her mother’s smile. She didn’t even know if either of them was still alive, and not knowing was hardest of all.
What if Brant had died from his fall? What if C’Tan discovered her mother’s identity? What if, what if, what if . . . it circled in her mind like a vulture, but no matter how she tried, she could not seem to shake the questions or the feelings that attacked her in waves.
Kayla felt a hand on her shoulder, a small hand, light and petite. Sarali, she knew, though she did not look up from her huddled misery. Somehow the cat woman seemed to know her feelings and sat beside her, not saying a word, slowly caressing her back, up and down, up and down, like Kayla’s mother used to do at bedtime. It was soothing, comforting in a way no words could have been. It pulled her mind from her troubles and sent her drifting into sleep.
The Sapphire Flute Page 29