Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3)

by Holder, Angela

  Kevessa clenched her fists. “Go away. Just go and leave me alone. Unless you—no, I don’t want to hear it. Either you lied to me before or you’re lying to me now. But either way you’re both liars, and I don’t want to listen to anything else you have to say.”

  Nirel opened her mouth, but Vigorre silenced her with a hand on her arm. “We’ll leave. Come, Nirel. I’ll take you home.”

  Kevessa turned her back on them and stared into the fire. She listened to the rustle of Nirel’s skirts as she rose, then their footsteps, muffled at first as they crossed the luxurious Girodan carpet, sharper when they reached the richly polished wood of the floor. The door sighed open on its well-oiled hinges.

  Vigorre’s voice was quiet, but it reached her clearly. “I’m sorry, Kevessa. I wish…”

  Her head hurt, her stomach hurt, her heart hurt. She kept her voice coldly polite. “Good-night.”

  He sighed. “Good-night.” The door closed.

  Kevessa watched the flames dance. She wanted Nina. She wanted to cuddle the squirrel’s warm body against her chest, stroke her delicate head and feel her back arch into her scratching fingers, giggle as her silken tail tickled her nose. She wanted Nina’s cheerful voice in her mind, dismissing Nirel’s story for the ridiculous fabrication it surely must be. She wanted her baffled compassion when Kevessa poured out her grief over their friends’ betrayal. She wanted to know, with the certainty she’d felt only an hour ago, that she was doing the Mother’s will. That the Mother had chosen her and entrusted her with her power.

  She couldn’t have any of those things. At least not tonight, and not tomorrow. She owed Vigorre and Nirel that much. She would do as she’d promised, and spend Restday pondering everything they’d told her.

  By firstday morning she would have to reach a decision. If she decided they were lying, she would tell Nina and the other wizards everything and try to figure out why.

  If she decided they were telling the truth, there was a way out. A wizard who no longer wanted to serve the Mother could ask their familiar to break their bond. She could conceal her knowledge from Nina and ask for her freedom. In order to keep up the charade, Nina would have to comply. Overwhelming pain and three days of unconsciousness would be a small price to pay to be free of a demon.

  She swiped angrily at the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. If only there was someone she could talk to. Someone who would listen without judgement and help her sort out the evidence on both sides of the question without trying to influence her one way or the other. Someone who loved her and would support her no matter what she chose.

  The door opened. Kevessa turned, opening her mouth to pour out her frustration on Vigorre. How dare he return after she’d sent him away? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  But it wasn’t Vigorre or Nirel. It was her father.

  Gevan smiled wearily at her. “I hope your day was more productive than mine. We made a start on unraveling the riddle of diabetes, but it’s going to be a long, slow process.” For all the grumpiness of his words, she could tell he was delighted to have a new and challenging puzzle to attack. “Josiah’s got promise as a student, but he’s going to have to learn patience. He was crushed when Thanna ate sweetbreads and nothing happened. If it were that easy someone would have found the answer long since.” He broke into laughter. “You look so baffled. I promise, it all makes sense. But I doubt you’re interested in the explanation.”

  “I am, Father.” She wanted to hear all the details of his research. She wanted to find a cure for diabetes just as much as the other wizards did. But that could wait. “But please, can I tell you about something else first? It’s important, and I really need someone to listen.”

  “Of course, Kevessa,” he said, moving forward to put his arms around her. She leaned into his solid warm strength. “You can tell me anything.”

  Even if Vigorre and Nirel were right, the demons had done at least one good thing. Their existence was responsible for bringing her and her father closer together. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about this until I decide what to do.”

  Twenty-Four

  As soon as Vigorre climbed into the carriage and closed the door, Nirel rounded on him. “What were you thinking? I told you I never wanted to tell anyone else about what I saw! Now Kevessa’s going to tell Elkan everything, your cover will be blown, I’ll be in trouble with Ozor, the demons will be warned and probably come after us, and—” She broke off before she could blurt out the worst part, the part he could never be allowed to discover.

  He didn’t seem to notice her hesitation. “It was our only chance to save Kevessa. I spring the trap tonight, Nirel. Keeper Yoran has it all set up. I’m supposed to fetch a wizard from the palace by telling them Nathenarre’s in labor early. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what he planned, but his men are going to separate the wizard from his familiar and kill them both. Then I’m supposed to bring the others, one by one. Including Kevessa, except I made him promise to spare her if I could get her away.”

  She stared at him, just able to make out his face in the dim light from the street lamps. “That’s why you were so insistent about her going home and leaving Nina behind.”

  This was a disaster. If the wizards were killed, she’d lose her opportunity to provoke a conflict that would result in the Matriarch sending the Armada against Tevenar. She’d been so close this afternoon. Josiah had reacted to her taunts exactly the way she’d hoped. A few more minutes and he would have joined Kevessa in storming the dungeon to free the prisoners. The Matriarch would have exploded in fury against those who dared defy her power. War would have been inevitable.

  Master Elkan had spoiled everything with his level-headed good sense. But she would figure out a way to break through his control eventually. The conflict simmering between him and the Matriarch was obvious. She just had to find a way to bring it to a boil.

  But not if Yoran Lirolla killed him. Then the Matriarch’s fury would fall on the Purifiers. That would do the Faithful’s cause no good.

  She fought to keep her reaction off her face. She couldn’t let Vigorre guess she didn’t want the wizards eliminated as much as he did. And she was still angry about the way he’d forced her to repeat her story to Kevessa. The more she had to talk about it, the greater chance someone would figure out she was lying.

  She clenched her fists. “You didn’t have to bring me into it.”

  Vigorre put an arm around her. She wanted to shrug it away, but she made herself be still. “I had to let her know the truth. Otherwise she would have been devastated when Nina was killed. This way—maybe she’ll be able to accept it’s for the best.” He swallowed. “If she believes us. I don’t think we convinced her.”

  Nirel pulled away. “I knew she wouldn’t. Don’t you think I would have told her long since if I thought she would?”

  “I guess so.” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I had to try.” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. His fingers were warm as he massaged her palm. “If Yoran succeeds in killing all the demons tonight, it should be safe for you to go public with your story. We’ll protect you from Ozor.”

  Would that serve? Nirel made swift mental calculations, reviewing how the various parties might react. Yoran Lirolla would be as eager to believe as Vigorre had been. But he was obsessed with gaining power in Ramunna and would likely be content to let Tevenar be forgotten. Would the Matriarch be angry enough at having been deceived to go to war far across the sea? Not if this pregnancy was threatened the way her others had been. Then she’d be desperate to get the help of another wizard before it was too late. But maybe if her child remained healthy she could be persuaded…

  She shrugged. “Just don’t tell anyone without asking me this time!”

  “I won’t.” She let him pull her against his side and turned her face to accept his kiss. His touch stirred her as always, even through her anger. More than usual, in fact.

  She pulled back and turned away, her heart racing. Vi
gorre was breathing hard. After a moment he cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough. “I was having second thoughts about what Keeper Yoran asked me to do. I wasn’t sure if I could betray Master Elkan and Josiah. But hearing again what the demons did to you—it made me remember why I have to.”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her mind raced. Was there something she could say that would shake his confidence enough to deter him from obeying Yoran’s orders without casting doubt on her story?

  A thought occurred to her. She had only a moment to ponder the possible ramifications, but it seemed as if it might work and would at least do no harm. She kept her voice tentative, even a little shaky. “You know, I was only trying to come up with arguments that would persuade Kevessa, but I think I might have actually figured something out. Maybe the demons really do erase their wizards’ memories. It would explain so much. Maybe Master Elkan and Josiah truly have no idea that Tobi and Sar are demons.”

  “I’m sure Kevessa’s not lying. She really doesn’t know.”

  Encouraged, Nirel went on. “I’ve never caught either of them saying or doing anything even a tiny bit different from what you’d expect if the familiars were actually from the Mother. They must really believe it.”

  Vigorre nodded, and his arm tightened around Nirel. “It’s certainly easier to believe they’re deceived than that they’re deceiving us. Master Elkan—I’ve never met anyone more devoted to the Mother.”

  “He’s just like you, tempted because he wants the power to help people. He doesn’t know he’s being used.” She took a deep breath. “Does he deserve to die any more than Kevessa does?”

  “Of course not.” Vigorre’s voice was strained. “But what choice do we have? Whether he knows it or not, the demons are using him to conquer Ramunna. They have to be stopped.”

  “But there’s got to be a better way than murdering someone who’s only an unwitting tool. Can’t you persuade Keeper Yoran to kill just the demons, not the wizards?”

  “Maybe.” Vigorre dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “But not tonight. I won’t get a chance to speak to his men before they attack. And I doubt they’d listen to me if I could. They’re sworn to obey Keeper Yoran the same as I am.”

  Nirel’s heart caught at the anguish in his voice. “So don’t do it. Come up with some excuse for Keeper Yoran why you were prevented from acting tonight. Wait until you can talk to him and make your case.”

  He pulled away from her and stared out the window at the passing buildings. “You don’t understand, Nirel. I swore to obey him, in the Mother’s name. He gave me my orders. I have to follow them.”

  “But he’s wrong,” Nirel said, her voice fierce. “He’s ordering you to do something evil. It’s your duty to disobey.”

  He gave a huff of bleak laughter. “That must be a Tevenaran idea, because it’s certainly not what I’ve been taught. My duty is to obey the Mother and those who speak for her.”

  “It’s your duty to make up your own mind about what’s right and do it, no matter what those in authority command you.” It was so easy to put conviction in her voice. Did some part of her still believe that? Elder Davon might not consider her words heresy, but the rest of the Faithful would. Obedience was everything in her Faith, to the Lord of Justice and those who spoke with his voice. “In Tevenar or Ramunna.”

  He cupped her cheek with a strong hand. “You always do, don’t you? And you won’t let anyone stop you. Not Ozor, not your father, not the demons. Not even the Lord of Demons himself, I expect.”

  “Nor the Mother,” she said pointedly. “Not if what I’d sworn in her name led me to do something stupid.”

  He chuckled, stroking her cheek and letting his arm settle around her shoulder again. “Point taken. I’ll think about it.”

  “I mean it, Vigorre. I know you. You can’t do this. You can’t betray a friend, and Master Elkan and Josiah have become your friends. If you do, it will hurt you terribly. I can’t bear for that to happen.”

  “I said I’ll think about it.” His tone firmly shut down that line of conversation.

  She was striving to think of some other way to persuade him when with a tone of forced casualness he changed the subject. “Kevessa made a good point. I wonder why the demons didn’t erase your memories of what you saw. I suppose they wanted to intimidate you, to scare you so badly you wouldn’t try to escape again. But they risked a lot by allowing you to remember once you were back among other people.”

  She forced her voice past the tightness in her throat. “They didn’t expect us to live long enough for it to make a difference.” She hated having to lie to him this way. She wasn’t very good at it. Telling a prepared story was one thing. Making up convincing answers on the fly was something else entirely. “Please, I don’t want—”

  He patted her shoulder. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but I promise, you’ll feel better if you do. Part of Keeper training is learning to counsel people who’ve been through traumatic events. It’s always better to talk it out with someone you can trust. So what do you think? My guess is that erasing memories takes a lot of energy, and they didn’t want to weaken themselves while they were keeping you captive. Although that doesn’t explain why they still didn’t once they brought you to the prison. You could have told anyone, the guards, the other prisoners, the servants who brought meals and emptied the chamberpots…” His voice, which had started out bright and conversational, faltered. “Why didn’t Ozor want you to tell those people about the demons’ true nature? It’s not like any of you had much to lose at that point.”

  She had to fall back on her default answer. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell us.”

  “Why did you listen to him, then?”

  He sounded genuinely curious, not suspicious, but that would change if she couldn’t get him to stop delving into the details of events that had never happened. Her story had never been designed to hold up under close scrutiny. “I was afraid. I hoped he had some plan to escape. Please, I don’t—”

  “How did you escape, anyway? I think you said a flood destroyed the prison? How did you survive?”

  She vividly remembered running across the narrow plank bridge over the rushing torrent, golden light sparking warm around her feet, boards tearing away behind her as Elkan and Sar approached exhaustion. Josiah had crossed the flood to the tiny doomed spit of land to help rescue her and the other people trapped there, including Ozor and the rest. Master Elkan had been prepared to give his life to save them. Josiah had told her how only Sar’s quick thinking had brought them all through it alive, at the cost of his bond with Elkan.

  She couldn’t tell Vigorre any of that. No stretch of her imagination could attribute the wizards’ actions that day to motives plausible for demons and their slaves.

  She waved her hand vaguely. “It was dark and everything was confused.” Even the way the guards had thrown open the prison doors to give the captives a chance of survival cast doubt on her portrayal of a land ruled by evil. Better to skip it. “Ozor kept us together. When the water broke down the wall he and Tereid helped us over it. The guards had run off.”

  His arms tightened around her. “You must have been terrified.”

  She didn’t have to fake her shiver. “Yes. Please, can we—”

  “I don’t care what I have to do. The demons have to be stopped. They’ve hurt you too many times already; I won’t let them hurt you again. If that means leading Elkan and Josiah to their deaths, so be it.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he plowed on relentlessly. “Did you know him well, the man the demons killed? Mar—” He paused. “That’s odd. I thought you said his name was Marom? But just now you called him Malon.”

  Nirel’s stomach lurched and her pulse pounded in her ears. Had she really made such a stupid mistake? She tried to remember that night back in the fall, but it was a blur. Elder Davon had asked her to add authentic Tevenaran details to the story he gave her, so she’d borrowed the name of a shopk
eeper her family used to sell cheese to on their rare trips to Tathorlith. She could picture the man’s rotund stomach and ale-reddened nose, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember which name was right.

  No choice but to brazen her way through. She looked blankly at Vigorre. “Of course I called him Malon. That was his name. You remembered it wrong.”

  His brow creased. “No, I remember thinking how strange it sounded, with that funny growling ‘r’ in the middle, how I wouldn’t even be able to pronounce it. I still don’t think I’m saying it right. It probably sounds like I’m calling him ‘Marrom.’” He used the long rolling “r” common in Ramunnan, that Nirel had struggled so hard to learn to say correctly.

  She jumped on the idea. “My accent was horrible back then. You probably couldn’t understand half of what I was saying. I bet everyone at the ball was laughing behind my back.”

  He shook his head, looking even more baffled. “No, your Ramunnan was excellent. I remember being impressed that you’d learned it so quickly. And besides, even in an accent as bad as Josiah’s, Malon doesn’t sound much like Mar—”

  “I think I know his name better than you!” Nirel clamped down on her panic and fought to control her voice. “I never called him Marom. You’re remembering wrong, is all. It’s not surprising, people do it all the time. Ask Master Elkan to tell you about the trial where a window showed—” She broke off. He couldn’t really intend to help Yoran Lirolla murder Elkan and Josiah, could he? They might wield the Lady’s corrupt power, but they weren’t bad people. She’d never meant for them to get hurt, never realized Elder Davon’s plan would put them in so much danger. It seemed obvious now that she should have.

  Vigorre stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged and looked out the carriage window. “I guess I must be.”

  She hurried to shift his mind from the subject. “To answer your question, no, I didn’t know him well. He’d only joined the band a short time before. And Father never let me talk to the men more than absolutely necessary.”