Sister of the Dead

by J. C.

  Wynn leaned back and closed her eyes against the growing brilliance.

  She felt Chap's breath upon her face and sensed his light through her eyelids, and then his warm tongue swept over her closed eyes, one at a time.

  Wynn put her palms to the ground, steadying herself as the sensation of falling filled her up and then vanished. She lifted her head to gaze at the world around her.

  Before her was Chap, silvery gray and furry... and barely visible in the dark.

  "That's it?" Leesil asked. "He slobbers on her? Wynn, are you all right?"

  She could barely make him out. His white-blond hair was the easiest feature to see, but it looked the same as always.

  Wynn wanted throw her arms around Chap, but hesitated. What she had seen began to weigh upon her. The Fay had gathered upon Chap, heeded his call to heal her. Mixed with her shock was an undercurrent of fright that such a creature had been near her all through this journey.

  But now she saw only a dog, who licked his own nose and then sat on the ground with an exhausted grunt.

  * * * *

  Welstiel stayed hidden among the trees as he watched Magiere and a moderately well-dressed soldier help Leesil and Wynn along the road to the manor. The majay-hi was with them, and also an aging wolfhound. He could not hear much of Magiere's words, but she spoke to the soldier in a familiar manner, once clearly calling him Captain. Welstiel's impatience grew.

  His dream patron urged him to follow her, but he had listened to those black scales in his slumber for too many years. He was no closer to his goal for it. Magiere's search for her past stalled his pursuit of the jewel of his dreams and the future it hinted at.

  He understood why Magiere had stayed in this place. It was her nature to hunt the undead, wherever they were found. But why did she travel farther into this land, lingering in a place where some things still might wait to find her... to find him? As he watched Magiere and her companions enter the manor grounds, he decided there were answers he must seek for himself.

  His horse was gone, and he began the long walk back to where Chane had pitched their tent the previous dusk. Welstiel was not surprised to find both horses and his traveling companion waiting there for him. Chane sat on the ground outside the tent, his expression guarded. He was feeding his rat a handful of grain.

  "I thought it best to get the horses out of sight, " he said, as if nothing had happened.

  Welstiel looked down at him. "Did you play the hero and destroy the monster to save your lady fair?"

  Chane's left eye twitched. "Yes. "

  Welstiel decided not to press the issue of Chane's disobedience—not yet. Magiere was safe, and with the sorcerer gone, she would continue onward.

  "Of course, you made certain Wynn did not see you?"

  His companion hesitated. "I am no fool. "

  Welstiel stepped toward the tent. "It is dangerous to be so close to Magiere. The encounter has left them tired, particularly Leesil and the sage. I doubt they will leave at first light, but they will depart tomorrow. If she continues east, I need to know why. "

  Chane frowned. "You don't know where she's going. "

  "No... she should have turned north after leaving her village... or at least out of this land. "

  He offered this like a tidbit to a hungry dog, hoping to turn Chane's mind back onto their goal without telling him too much.

  "I saw her speak to a soldier from the manor, " Welstiel added. "Possibly the captain of the guard there. Did you ever assist your father in an interrogation?"

  "Yes. "

  "On occasion, I helped mine, as well. "

  "Of course you did, " Chane said bitterly. "One more thing we have in common. "

  Welstiel almost smiled.

  * * * *

  Wynn had been given a room in the manor with a large bed and a down comforter. The rare privacy and the small luxuries of a window heavily draped against the cold and a table on which to set her scribe's instruments should have been a pleasure or at least a relief.

  Beneath her short robe, breeches, and shirt, she wore a white cotton shift, which she normally managed to keep tucked in. Since leaving Bela, she had not abandoned her clothes to sleep in this loose cotton undergarment. Nights were too cold, and she was far too modest in company. The freedom to do so now, for this one night, should also have pleased her.

  It did not.

  She had written nothing in her journal concerning the undead sorcerer... or more of Magiere's nature, as Domin Tilswith would expect. She did not even warm up her crystal in the cold lamp on the bedside table. Instead, she closed her door tightly and crawled under the comforter, looking about the room's fixtures, so dim and normal in the low light of the single candle.

  She had lied to Magiere, to Leesil, to the people here. She took credit for something she had not done... to save Chane... to keep Magiere from knowing he had followed them here.

  There was a knock at the door, but Wynn did not wish to see anyone.

  "It's me, " Magiere said from outside. "Can I come in?"

  "Of course, " Wynn answered, but her voice was reluctant. She reached for the cold lamp, lifted its glass, and rubbed the crystal without removing it. Its light grew, brightening the room. As she replaced the glass, the door cracked open and Magiere entered.

  She looked uncomfortable, hair down but uncombed, and wore only her loose white shirt and black breeches. A few cuts on her face were beginning to swell.

  "Do you have any of the healing salve with you?" she asked.

  More guilt for Wynn. She should have at least tended her companions' wounds before crawling into hiding.

  "Yes, I'm sorry. I should have thought of that earlier. It's in the side of my pack. "

  Magiere shook her head. "Don't apologize. We're all tired. "

  Wynn rummaged out the small tin of salve, as well as a hairbrush. Guilt overwhelmed her discomfort at Magiere's presence.

  "I can comb out your hair, if you like. It's full of burrs and twigs. "

  It wasn't that Wynn distrusted Magiere. She trusted the woman with her life, but the other half—the undead half— which even Magiere did not truly know or understand, weighed upon Wynn's fears. For the first time, Wynn felt resentful of her calling.

  She loved the pursuit of "knowing. " Nothing made her happier than gathering knowledge, but how could she document any of this as if it were some passing scholarly interest? The dark and dead half of Magiere frightened her as much as the pale woman's mysterious and bloody origin.

  Magiere glanced at the brush, seemed about to refuse, and then sighed. "Yes, thank you. "

  Wynn poured water from a pitcher into a porcelain basin upon the table. There was a hand towel folded beside it, and Wynn dabbed its corner in the water. She settled on the bed's edge beside Magiere, forcing her hand not to waver as she cleaned Magiere's scratches and applied the salve. It was good for both healing and pain.

  "Better, " Magiere said.

  Wynn climbed around behind Magiere and began combing out the tangles of black hair.

  "How is Leesil?" she asked.

  "Resting. All right, I think. I don't think Vordana took much from him in the fight, but we can't be sure. I'll make certain he eats well in the morning. "

  Wynn stopped brushing to gently pick at a burr with her fingertips.

  "You have beautiful hair, " she said, though its tendrils reminded her too much of the shadow ribbons in Magiere's essence. "Did Leesil tell you what he saw in the forest?"

  Magiere turned about, and Wynn pulled her hands back a little too quickly. She folded them in her lap, holding on to the brush with both.

  "No, " Magiere answered. "Did he tell you?"

  "He was incoherent, like you, but I think he saw his mother... dead. He said we were too late, and she was dead. "

  Magiere closed her eyes. "I should never have let Vordana trick me, never hesitated. If I'd cut that bastard down... Oh, Leesil. He's borne too much for me through all this. "

  She was silent
for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was the last thing Wynn wanted to hear.

  "What did you see tonight? What did you see in me that terrified you—hurt you?"

  Wynn's mouth went dry. "You didn't hurt me, Magiere. It was not—"

  'Tell me. I've nothing else but a chamber of bones in a decaying keep. So if you know something, tell me. "

  "It is not anything that I know, " Wynn said, fumbling for a way to explain. "Only what I saw... felt. "

  Magiere sat waiting.

  Wynn relented and told Magiere of the black shadow ribbons coiled in her spirit. Magiere barely reacted, gaze wandering the room to anywhere but Wynn's face. Perhaps she had accepted herself as part of the world's darkness. Wynn told her also of Chap, and how the second time she had seen him, he was not two images in her mantic sight, as was everything else. He was one clear luminous presence. When this distracted Magiere enough, Wynn told her of Leesil's sun-spark eyes amid the spirit mist of the world.

  "I wish I'd seen him the way you did, " Magiere said, and her expression softened. "I didn't really come here for the salve. I wanted to... to apologize for what I said back in Bela when you insisted on coming with us. I thought you'd be in the way, but your knowledge and skills have been so useful, and not just in dealing with Chap. Leesil and I, and even Chap, were outwitted tonight. If you hadn't been here, I don't know if either of us would still be alive. The townsfolk are going to give me the credit for this, and they won't understand anything else. And so I wanted to tell you this now and to thank you. "

  The words were so out of place for Magiere that Wynn's guilt grew again. For all they had learned of what Magiere was, she had no choice in that. She was trying to live a life beyond what had been forced upon her. Yet here she was, thanking Wynn, who was a liar and a secret observer.

  Wynn had lied for Chane. Once such an enormous deception was spoken, there was no turning back. The truth would only abolish Magiere's trust, and possibly cost Chane his head.

  "Let me finish your hair, " Wynn whispered. "Then we should both get some sleep. "

  Magiere turned around, and Wynn worked the burr from her hair.

  "And Wynn..., " Magiere said, in her more usual abrupt manner, "no more magic for you. "

  Wynn sighed, nodding her head. "Agreed. "

  Chapter 10

  At dawn, Magiere left Leesil sleeping in their upstairs room and walked into the main hall to be accosted by Elena.

  "Our thanks aren't nearly enough. There is nothing we can do to repay you. " The girl grasped Magiere's hands, nearly hopping up and down.

  Lord Stefan stood near the hearth. He wasn't so enthusiastic, but Magiere preferred his silence. She'd seen his current expression many times while on the game. Village elders begged for her help, but once she finished, they were far more eager for her departure. Stefan had the same look about him.

  Magiere pulled her hand from Elena's grip in embarrassment but tried to be gracious as she asked about breakfast.

  "I'll fetch some hot porridge and fresh bread, " Elena said, and she scurried toward the corridor.

  "Wait a little, Elena, " Captain Geza said, and he stood up from his seat at the table, and turned to Magiere. "There is something I'd like to show you before breakfast. Will you follow me?"

  Magiere preferred Geza amongst all who lived in this manor. She followed as he led her outside and across the manor grounds to the stable. In front of its wide doors stood a fine wagon. The long driver's seat was covered with padded leather, and two gray horses were tied nearby. A stable boy was brushing out their lush coats.

  Geza gestured to the wagon. "Elena told me you returned the household money and the people's coin. I'm not noble but I'm far from destitute. Stefan is young and foolish, but my success depends on his, so at times I've supported him when I should not. This is my wagon, and I give it to you. Not as a gift but as proper payment, and you cannot refuse. "

  He stepped closer to the team of gray horses, one stocky and the other more slender and graceful.

  "This is Port, " Geza said, "because he is so portly. And this is Imp, because she reminds me of my grandmother's tales of fairy mounts. I trained them myself. They will serve you well. "

  Magiere stepped closer, and Port swung his massive head to look at her. His eyes were clear and calm. Imp reached out her head to chew on her partner's halter. She was beautiful, with a nose like gray velvet.

  "These are dear to you, " Magiere said to Geza. "I can't take them. "

  "I heard that your partner detests riding and is still ragged from last night. There are no barges due until the new moon. We owe you—I owe you. Elena is all I have, and I could not persuade her to leave and go back to Keonsk. If you had not come along... "

  He sighed, and pulled a small folded parchment from his vestment.

  'Take the wagon and team. You earned them. And there is something more I wish to show you now that we're away from the others. You are going on to Keonsk?"

  "Yes. "

  "Why?" he asked, and when she frowned at his question, he rushed on. "I thought perhaps our fates had been connected. That is why I ask. "

  Magiere didn't see Geza as a man given to deceptions, but his comment was confusing nonetheless.

  "I'm seeking information about my family, my father. That's all. There may be records in Keonsk. "

  "I see, " he answered, disappointed, and held out the parchment to her. "Then you know nothing of this. "

  "I don't read well, " Magiere said.

  "It's from my brother in the southeast of the Antes province, this province. His lord's fief was taken by a brown-robed man he had never met. Not a noble but with a letter of authority from Baron Buscan. And he is not the only one. I've heard similar from other places within the Antes province, and in the east of Droevinka, as well. "

  "Buscan is sending out sorcerers?" Magiere asked. "Like Vordana?"

  "I do not know what they are, and Vordana is the only one I've met. I only know what my brother has told me. There are men being sent out to unseat our nobles, one by one, and they have papers from the royal court. "

  "What does this have to do with me?" Magiere asked, not caring for the direction Geza was leading. She had little interest in the endless infighting of the noble houses.

  "Would you look into this when you reach Keonsk? You and yours stopped Vordana here and might be able to take action others cannot. Just see if my brother is correct. "

  Magiere wasn't certain how to respond, but her Aunt Bieja lived too nearby for comfort and Magiere found Geza's suspicions unsettling.

  "I doubt Buscan would give us an audience, " she replied. "Or think us more than a nuisance, but if a chance arises... "

  Geza inclined his head, satisfied, and he walked with her back to the manor for breakfast.

  The morning passed swiftly. Wynn helped pack the wagon, and by late afternoon they were ready to leave. Leesil was silent for the day, and it was obvious to Magiere that his delusion of the night before still plagued him. For her own part, she couldn't rid herself of seeing Leesil offering himself up to her like a sacrifice. Talking would have to wait—but talk they would, for his sake.

  As they pulled the wagon around before the manor, Stefan stood in its doorway as Elena came out to see them off. If Wynn was right concerning what Vordana had done to Stefan, he would never again leave that house. Elena looked up at the dipping sun.

  "You should really stay the night and set out tomorrow. You will not get far today. "

  Magiere glanced at Leesil sitting quietly beside her on the wagon bench. He was still lost in his thoughts.

  "No, we need to move on, " she answered Elena. "Geza says the roads between here and Keonsk are smooth and dry. We'll keep going into the early evening and gain some ground. "

  Chap nuzzled Shade once more and ran for the wagon, leaping into the back to settle beside Wynn. He laid his head in her lap.

  Magiere offered polite farewells, snapped the reins, and Port and Imp pulled them down the
inland road. When they reached Pudurlatsat and turned east along the main road, Magiere shifted the reins to one hand and grasped Leesil's closest hand with her other. He gripped her palm instantly.

  She held on to him until dusk.

  * * * *

  Chane awoke precisely at dusk and sat watching Welstiel slumber. He had done the same thing night after night. More recently, his companion had ceased mumbling and thrashing in his dormancy.

  Welstiel had become no less an obstacle to Chane's freedom than Toret had been, expecting obedience, though he could not will it as Toret had. Chane had no money and no where else to go, until Welstiel delivered his promised payment and letters of introduction. With such, Chane could seek a new existence, perhaps journey to one of the main branches for the Guild of Sagecraft.

  For all Chane's reluctance to be Welstiel's puppet, he had little choice but to obey—for now. And he became more and more curious about the artifact that Welstiel sought.

  But behind all this lingered a downfallen moment in the dark smithy.

  Wynn had turned him away.

  Part of him was strangely full of sorrow, and he was not normally given to melancholy. Wynn followed her conscience, and her clear wish to protect him from Magiere hung constantly in Chane's thoughts. A naive notion, as he needed no protection, but still...

  In that moment, the possibility of returning to Bela with Wynn had slipped out before he realized what he was saying. He should not have allowed himself such a fantasy nor pushed it upon her. She was a true intellect and understood that truths could never be forgotten—there was no way to change what was. Like trying to take back words that had already been spoken.

  His father's cruelty had taught him to defend himself, to look out for himself above all others. Wynn was the only person besides his mother that he'd ever wished to protect more than himself. He'd failed his mother; he might yet save Wynn.

  Welstiel stirred, and Chane cautiously tapped his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

  "Yes. We should ready ourselves. "

  "Do you wish to pack, or are we returning here?"