She stared at the blood spreading into the snow. “I’m killing him,” she said softly.
“Yes,” Silvanus said.
“YOU mUSt CLOSe tHe WOUNDS, NOW,” RePeateD Silvanus.
Elaine pulled her fingers together almost like making a fist. The skin smoothed behind her movement. She drew her thumbs over the flesh, leveling the last few imperfections.
“Let me see what you’ve done, Elaine.” Silvanus’s voice was careful, gentle, the way you’d talk to a frightened child.
“He’s fine,” she said.
Thordin encircled her wrists and lifted her hands from the man’s neck. The blood ran onto his hands. He knelt, holding Elaine’s hands.
“You can let go of me, Thordin.”
He looked at Silvanus. The elf had wiped away the blood and was examining Randwulf’s neck. “It’s perfect.” He looked up as if just realizing that Thordin was holding on. “Release her, it is her first major healing. She got carried away. It happens.”
Thordin released her. He wiped the blood onto clean snow until his hands were clean.
Elaine knelt, holding her bloody hands in front of her. Blood trickled down her wrists into her sleeves and cooled quickly in the cold air. She rubbed her fingertips together. The sensation of congealing blood squeezing between her fingers was … interesting. She rubbed her hands together, slowly, studying the feel of it.
“Stop it, stop it!”
She looked up, startled. Jonathan was standing over her, face mottled with anger.
“You are corrupt.”
“Jonathan, it is often difficult to control such powers at first. She will do better with practice.”
“Practice? She nearly killed the boy.”
Silvanus nodded. “But she didn’t kill him.”
“I saw her face. We all did. She enjoyed it. Look at her, smearing blood on her hands.” His face mirrored the disgust in his voice.
Elaine lowered her bloody hands to her lap. Tears tightened her throat. It was hard after all these years. Once, only days ago, Jonathan’s opinion had meant more to her than anyone’s, even Blaine’s. Her brother could be foolish, leading with his heart rather than his head. She’d depended on Jonathan to help her think clearly, to see all sides of a subject. Now she knew there were some sides the great mage-finder didn’t want to understand. And one of them, sadly, was her own.
“She has done nothing wrong, Master Ambrose,” the wizard said. He was still kneeling on the ground near the elf. The smile was gone from his face. His blue eyes looked harsh and distant as a winter sky.
“I did not say she had.”
“Your face said more than your words.”
Jonathan turned away, anger making his movements abrupt. Tereza had come up sometime during the healing. Elaine hadn’t seen her come. Tereza touched his shoulder, but he pulled away from her. “I cannot change what I am. I cannot.”
“Jonathan, please …”
Elaine stood up, leaving both the wizard and her brother’s comforting touches behind. “Why do you protest, Tereza? You fear me, too. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Elaine, we love you,” Tereza said.
“But you still fear me.” Tears threatened to close her throat tight. No, no more crying. Blast it all, she was an adult. She didn’t need their approval. She wanted it, but didn’t need it.
“I know you would never hurt us,” Tereza said.
“Do you? Do you really?” She searched the older woman’s face, trying to judge the words. Elaine couldn’t read her thoughts at that moment and didn’t try to. Not out of fear of what she would find out, but out of politeness. If it was rude to eavesdrop, it had to be doubly rude to read another’s thoughts without permission.
“The evil is not in the girl,” the elf said.
Tereza looked down at him. “We don’t think she’s evil.”
“That’s a lie,” Elaine said. The tears trailed silently down her cheeks. Tereza’s mind had opened to her like a window. She thought that Elaine’s burgeoning powers had harmed the man. Tereza knew Elaine hadn’t meant to do it, but she had so little control. Images swam in Tereza’s mind of the night in the shed over the corpse of the murdered man.
Elaine looked at Jonathan. She riffled his mind like the pages of a book. Distrust, hatred, fear, prejudice. He loved Elaine, but his loathing of all things magic was deeply ingrained. How could he just abandon a lifetime of habit? A habit that had kept him alive and whole.
“I did not harm Randwulf, not on purpose. I have never harmed anyone. I would never harm anyone. I don’t even know how to use magic to harm someone.” With each word she spoke, she felt the hopelessness of it. They did not believe her. They no longer trusted her. They thought she had tried to kill Randwulf, deliberately. Both of them, it had been their first thought.
“When we go … back”—she had almost said home—“from Cortton, I’ll leave.”
“No,” Tereza said. She stepped forward, reaching for Elaine.
Elaine held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “I can read your thoughts. I know what you think of me.”
Tereza grabbed her into a fierce hug. “I cannot control my thoughts, Elaine, but do not leave, not like this. Jonathan and I will learn to.… It will be all right.”
Elaine pushed her to arm’s length. “Jonathan and you will learn to what? Tolerate me? Not hate what I’m becoming? Not fear me?” She shook her head and stepped back, out of reach. She turned to the wizard. “If it’s all right with you, Gersalius, we could go back to your home. I could live there while you teach me. If that’s all right.”
She realized for the first time that she should have asked the wizard in private. What if he said no? What if he didn’t want her either? She shook her head, fighting not to cry again.
Gersalius stood up, taking her hand in his. “You are most welcome in my house, Elaine Clairn, always.”
Blaine gripped her shoulder. “Will you have me, as well, Gersalius?”
The wizard raised an eyebrow. “You have some natural calling to animals and plants, but you are no mage.”
“I don’t come to learn magic. I come to keep you company.”
“You are welcome in my home.” He glanced at Jonathan and Tereza. “Remember this, that it was not magic that drove them away, but prejudice.”
Tereza turned away and walked very fast toward the tents. Jonathan just stood there. He didn’t seem to know what to say or even what to do. Elaine had never seen him at such a loss.
“You have commitments, Blaine,” Jonathan said at last. Elaine knew what he meant. The brotherhood. She had asked to join, but Jonathan had talked her out of it. She had no knowledge of weaponry, no real way of defending herself. Her visions, though useful, left her sick and bedridden for hours or days. But that had changed.
“If Thordin wants another partner, he can pair with Konrad,” Blaine said.
“Konrad’s all right, but I don’t want another partner,” Thordin said. The fighter stood up, half between the three of them, as if he could stop what was about to happen.
“I’m sorry, Thordin,” Blaine said.
“And who will be your new partner?” Jonathan asked.
“I will be,” Elaine said.
Jonathan turned to her, frowning. “We’ve discussed this before, Elaine. You are not suited …”
“I had a vision yesterday. I was not bedridden. Gersalius is teaching me to control my powers.”
“You still have no way to defend yourself. What if Blaine is not with you? Who will protect you?”
Gersalius gave a small chuckle.
“What is it, wizard?”
“Elaine is powerful, mage-finder. She will be able to take care of herself once she is trained.”
“You see, Jonathan, all your objections are gone just like that,” Elaine said. There was a large, hot stab of satisfaction at that. She wasn’t helpless anymore.
“This is not the time or place to discuss this,” Jonathan said. He was right. They were
talking nearly openly about a supposed secret organization. But she wanted to finish this conversation. She wanted Jonathan to feel her anger. Elaine wanted him to hear her anger.
The thought was enough. I will be Blaine’s new partner.
Jonathan paled, his breath coming in a sharp jab of panic. Thordin grabbed his arm to steady him. “What’s wrong, Jonathan?”
He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
You are hearing my words, Jonathan, nothing more. It won’t hurt you. Think something, and I will hear it. Let us finish this between us, here and now.
His skin looked gray. Elaine could feel his stomach knot with fear at her presence in his mind. She didn’t care anymore. “Answer me, Jonathan,” she said out loud.
“Are you doing this?” Thordin asked.
“He can read my thoughts as I can read his, that is all. It doesn’t hurt. It is his own fear that is harming him.”
“Elaine, don’t do this,” Blaine said.
“I have to.”
Jonathan swallowed hard, fighting nausea. Finally, he thought, very carefully. The brotherhood would never accept such as you as one of their agents.
They have used wizards before.
He shook his head as if he could block out the sound, but he couldn’t. Elaine suddenly knew that he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, not if she wanted to be there. They will not use you.
Blaine will speak for me.
And I will speak against you.
So be it, Jonathan.
He had regained his color and his temper. “I will do everything I can to see that people know you for the corruption you are.” He turned stiffly and walked slowly, deliberately away.
“You shouldn’t have entered his mind,” Gersalius said.
Elaine watched Jonathan’s stiff back march away. “No more games, Gersalius. I am what I am. Jonathan could never accept that.”
“He might have, in time, but now …” he let the thought trail off. His eyes watched her, concerned, worried.
“Now, I’ve made sure he thinks me evil.”
“Yes, why?”
She shook her head, not sure she could explain. “I grew tired of the glances, of having to guess what they thought. Oh, I don’t know what made me do it, but it’s done. He’ll never forgive me.” Stupidly, tears stung her eyes. It had been her choice; why was she crying about it?
“You have indeed burned your proverbial bridges,” Gersalius said. He smiled and clapped her shoulder. “You’ll find my home less grand than your old one, but it will serve until you are master over your magic.”
She turned to Blaine. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a halfhearted smile. “I have never seen you lose your temper before. It was impressive, but why Jonathan? Why today?”
“You can stay with them. There’s no need in both of us losing our home.”
He shook his head, face grim. “No, you are my family. If you are no longer welcome, neither am I.”
“Konrad has refused to partner with anyone since his wife died,” Thordin said. “You might need another sword at your back.”
Elaine looked at him, surprised. “You’d come with us?”
He shrugged. “Jonathan’s upset now, but if anything happened to the two of you, he’d never forgive himself. I’d never forgive me, either. Better to go along and make sure you two are safe.”
Blaine gave him a rough hug. “You old softie, you.”
Thordin just grinned.
“Gersalius, is it all right if Thordin comes, too?” Elaine asked.
“Well, I admit I hadn’t planned on expanding my household quite this much.” At the look on the twins’ faces, he smiled. “But who am I to refuse a stout sword arm to protect my back?”
Thordin slapped him on the back hard enough to send him staggering. “You’re a good man, for a wizard.”
Gersalius gave a half-cough. “Well, with such ringing endorsement, we’ll be just one happy family.”
At that, Elaine’s smile faded. They had been a family, but no longer. Why had she forced Jonathan like that? It was unlike her. She shook her head. Was it the magic? Was Jonathan right, and the magic was controlling her? What if Jonathan was right and she was being corrupted? What if she was corrupting everyone around her? She had just succeeded in breaking up one of the most successful cells that the brotherhood had ever had. A house divided upon itself cannot stand. Elaine couldn’t remember who had said that. She hoped that whoever it was was wrong.
tWILIgHt LaY IN tHICK PURPLe CLOUDS aCROSS tHe sky. The snow that had threatened all day began to drift down in huge, fluffy flakes, like the down of some gigantic goose. The village of Cortton lay in a small valley. Lights glimmered from windows here and there. Chimney smoke rose into the fading light to mingle with the purplish clouds.
Jonathan tried once again to explain to Silvanus and his party what lay ahead of them. The elf was mounted just behind him, sharing his horse. Jonathan turned in the saddle and found the elf’s disconcerting eyes inches from his own. “There is a plague in the village below. You might live longer if you went on to the next town. Another day will see you to Tekla.”
“If there is a plague, where else should a healer be?” Silvanus said. He made a gesture with his half-grown arm.
“I cannot argue that a true healer would be very helpful, but I want you to understand what may lie ahead.”
“I appreciate your concern, Jonathan, but we have faced evil before. We have even faced the walking dead before and lived to tell the tale.”
Jonathan stared into that strange face and tried to read the expression. Silvanus seemed so confident. The mage-finder remembered being confident once, secure in his own beliefs, but that was before. He glanced back, eyes searching for Elaine. Her yellow hair glowed in the dying light. She rode behind Blaine, having generously offered her horse to the large, mustached man. Her hair glowed against the white of Blaine’s hood, and Elaine seemed to feel his eyes upon her, for she turned to look at him.
Jonathan looked away before their eyes could meet. He didn’t want her inside his mind again. The thought made him shudder as if something had slithered over his foot in the dark. She’d had no right to invade him like that. It was evil. Yet, he wanted to mend things between them, but didn’t know how.
Short of her magic’s disappearing overnight, Jonathan wasn’t sure things between them could ever heal. He hadn’t anticipated Blaine’s taking her side, but should have. He’d been blind not to expect that. But Thordin? That had been a complete surprise. Their cell of the brotherhood had more successes than any other—more monsters slain, evil wizards prosecuted, charlatans unmasked. They were a good team. The fact that Elaine’s magic had broken them up was proof enough that her witchcraft was a corrupting influence.
He stared down at the lights. Putting to rest the dead of Cortton would be their last task as a family. He was the head of this family. The leader of all who obeyed the brotherhood in his house. So why could he not find a way out of this moral dilemma? It was like watching a wagon barreling down a narrow path. He knew it was going to go careening off into space to smash to the rocks below, but could not stop it, not by wishing or screaming. It was an accident happening slowly before his eyes, and he could do nothing to stop it.
He could not solve his own problems, but he could help this village. Jonathan would have rather faced a dozen zombies than strife in his own household. Perhaps he might yet defeat both.
“Do you still worry over the girl?” Silvanus asked.
Jonathan wanted to say no, but nodded.
“Averil is often strong willed. We quarrel, but we make up. They never stop being our children, no matter how angry we get.”
“This not a fight over an inappropriate suitor,” Jonathan said. “She invaded my mind without my permission. She showed that she would abuse her power.”
“She is what … eighteen of your years? She is young. You are the one with the patience and wisdom of years. It is your task to
heal this fight, not hers.”
“Is that the way you deal with Averil?”
“Yes.” That one word sounded tired, as if the good advice was harder to swallow than to dish out.
Jonathan glanced back. Elaine was looking at him. He held her gaze for a moment, then looked away. Did her eyes seek him as his did her? Did she long to mend this quarrel? If so, why had she done it? He could have ignored much, but not this outright invasion. She had to know that. It was almost as if she had done it deliberately.
“I cannot mend this,” he said, at last.
“Will not,” the elf said.
Jonathan nodded. “Will not.” He kicked the horse forward. It began winding down the path.
“Pride is a cold thing, my friend.”
“It is not pride.”
The elf’s voice came close to his ear, like his own conscience. “Then what is it, if not pride?”
It was fear, but Jonathan didn’t know how to explain that to the elf. Silvanus’s dead wife had been a witch, a human mage. If the elf could love, bed, and father a child with a magic-user, he would not understand Jonathan’s fear.
“Please, Jonathan, you have been so kind to us. I will listen with an open mind. You can use my ear to bounce ideas from, until you find a way to approach Elaine.”
It sounded so reasonable. Jonathan didn’t feel in the least reasonable. How to explain his fear to someone who did not share it in the least?
The sun died in a flash of golden blood in the purple clouds. As they rode down the hillside, the light slipped away from them. Konrad rode ahead, his figure growing dimmer, blending with the coming dark. Konrad was the only one of them who wasn’t riding double. He and the paladin. The paladin was simply too large to share. Konrad simply hadn’t offered.
“My parents were slain by magic.” Jonathan said, at last.
“As was my wife,” Silvanus said.
Jonathan shook his head. How to explain? “No, they were not just killed. They were degraded, tormented.”
“Tell me, my friend.”
But he did not want to. This grief was too intimate. Even after nearly forty years, the wound was still raw. His mother had been a gypsy like Tereza. Perhaps that was why from the first her dark hair and rich voice had captivated him. Do we not all spend our lives trying to get back to happier days? Of course, if that was all Jonathan had wanted, he wouldn’t have joined the brotherhood. He wouldn’t have become a mage-finder. He would have taken Tereza and found some quiet corner and hidden away. But he hadn’t, perhaps because he believed that the evil would find him. Those who did not seek out evil to slay it, would be sought out by evil. Better to face it, hunt it down, than to be caught unawares.
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