The Initiate

by Louise Cooper

  "Come, Father." She squeezed his hands, smiling brilliantly and utterly disarming him. "This is a celebration. Don't frown at me -- let's enjoy the dance, and let the future take care of itself for a while!"

  "... It's a growing problem, High Initiate, and I don't mind admitting that our resources are sorely stretched in trying to stem the tide." The Margrave of Prospect Province grimaced and shook his greying head, staring down at his own silver-buckled shoes. "During the last two moonphases our towns and villages have suffered no less than five brigand raids -- and that's not counting any incidents which may not have reached my ears. It's almost as if all the diverse bands have formed themselves into some kind of organization... or that some outside force is motivating them."

  Keridil saw Tarod's quick frown and, glancing at him, nodded almost imperceptibly. The old Margrave's words had rung a disquieting bell in the intuitive depths of his mind, and Tarod's like feeling came as no surprise. He had already heard reports from two other provinces of the sudden and inexplicable increase in the activities of brigand groups. Trading caravans plundered; farmers' and herders' livestock decimated; small, remote villages raided and crops burned in the fields... it threatened to assume the proportions of an epidemic. And there seemed to be no rhyme or reason behind it; no emergence of a leader under whom the bands were uniting. The widely scattered outlaw bands had apparently increased their activities independently of each other, yet with a timing that suggested they were acting in concert. It had to be more than coincidence.

  "We protect the province folk as best we can, of course," the Margrave went on, sounding tired. "But we have only a limited number of volunteers at our disposal at any one time, and fewer still skilled men-at-arms to train them." His dark eyes met Keridil's briefly, and Keridil recognized the appeal in them -- he had already encountered it twice tonight. "If it were possible for a small number of Initiates, no more than two or three, to be amongst our numbers... the ability of the Castle's swordsmen is legendary..."

  Keridil sighed, wishing that he could do more than merely repeat the answer he had already given to the Margraves of Empty Province and the Great Eastern Flatlands. "Their abilities, sir, are unfortunately confined only to combat in the arena. Maybe if we were to look back through the records we'd find a time when Initiates had a role to play as enforcers of law as well as its champions, but," he smiled wryly, "our lands have been at peace for so long now that the role couldn't apply even should we wish it."

  "Nonetheless, the mere presence of men of the Circle -- "

  "Would do a good deal less to frighten a band of determined brigands than either you or I might wish," Keridil said. He felt frustrated by his inability to offer the man anything beyond advice and comfort; words would not remove Prospect's troubles, but they were all he had. After a moment or two he added, "I will, however, bring the matter personally to the attention of the High Margrave when we meet."

  "Of course... you'll be journeying to the Summer Isle when the celebrations are over..." The old man nodded, trying to make the best of it. "Well, High Initiate, I thank you for listening to me. I hadn't wanted to sour the festivities with our provincial problems, but -- "

  "You've done no such thing -- I'm indebted to you for drawing my attention to it."

  The Margrave turned to go, but Tarod suddenly spoke up. "The brigands, Margrave -- are they the sole source of trouble in Prospect?"

  The Margrave paused. "I'm sorry, I don't quite take your meaning..."

  "I wondered, sir, if you had experienced an equally sudden increase in other forms of mischief." He glanced at Keridil. "Something came to my ears earlier this evening, and our own experience bears it out... Margrave, has the incidence of Warps been increasing?"

  The old man licked his lips. "Now that you mention it... these past months -- since the death of the old High Initiate, in fact, if you'll pardon me, sir -- yes; there have been several Warps." He shivered abruptly. "They are something which one prefers to put out of one's mind as quickly as possible, and so I didn't think.... but surely there can be no possible connection between the two?"

  "No direct connection, no," Tarod agreed. "But I wonder if the sudden increase in both could be an indication of something which we're as yet unaware of."

  He was conscious of Keridil's keen stare, but the Margrave's expression was unhappily blank.

  "If there is a connection, sir, then Aeoris help us all!" he said feelingly. "But I confess the idea of it is beyond me!"

  As soon as the old man had taken his leave, Keridil turned on Tarod.

  "You've told me nothing of these suspicions of yours."

  "How could I? I hadn't heard the tales of the brigands before tonight. But now that I have, if I add them to our own recent experiences here at the Castle then I have a recipe which I don't like, Keridil. There's something afoot, and the smell of it sticks in the nostrils."

  "Logic surely dictates that there can be no conceivable connection between the Warps and brigand attacks, Tarod."

  "Damn logic!" Tarod said sharply, then lowered his voice, aware that people in the immediate vicinity were listening. "Logic is for the likes of the Margrave of Prospect -- and that's well and good; no one expects him to explore beyond the bounds of what he can touch and hear and see. But we're supposed to transcend such restrictions -- or are we beginning to forget our true purpose?"

  "That's nonsensical -- "

  "Is it, Keridil?" Tarod's green eyes glittered dangerously. "Or are we all deluding ourselves, here in our stronghold, with none to question us or judge us or find us wanting? Three Margraves have asked the circle's aid tonight, and what have we been able to offer them? Nothing! We're impotent! Gods, perhaps the old man was right -- perhaps we'd serve this land better as a force of mercenaries than we do as a community of sorcerers!"

  Though he tried not to show it Keridil was stung by the condemnation, not least because it echoed his own frustrations. The frequency of the Warp storms was something that had deeply troubled Jehrek -- and since his death the incidences had increased sharply. Yet the Circle's best efforts had brought them no nearer to understanding the reasons for the sudden change that seemed to be infecting the world, let alone its source. Tarod, however, was the first to voice the unease that had been growing in the marrow of Keridil's bones.

  "I know as well as you do what our sorcery has -- or perhaps rather has not -- achieved lately," he said quietly, meeting Tarod's gaze with candid eyes. "Do you have a better answer?"

  Tarod sighed. "Before one can form an answer, one first has to know the nature of the question."

  "Exactly. The gods alone know there's something afoot, something wrong. We've both heard the evidence of it tonight, if we needed confirmation. It's been hanging over us like a storm on the horizon, and since my father died -- "

  "I know." Tarod forced down the thought that had occurred to him too many times of late. Like Keridil he was sceptical about coincidence, and the fact that these disturbing events had gathered strength and intensity since the old High Initiate's passing was far from reassuring. Though he told himself time and again that there could surely be no link, he could not forget that bizarre, delirium-haunted encounter with the being called Yandros....

  He started as Keridil suddenly clapped him on the shoulder. "Tarod, this is neither the time nor the place to speculate. When the next seven days are over, I'm due to travel to the Summer Isle to pay my respects in person to the High Margrave. If I can impress on him the gravity of the problems in the provinces, we may at least make some move towards solving the situation on an exoteric level."

  "The High Margrave's little more than a child."

  "Nonetheless he still embodies temporal power. And I've heard that he has a reputation for intelligence, if not experience. It's the best I can do for the Margravates at present."

  "And the Warps?" Tarod asked softly.

  "Ah, the Warps... that's another matter, isn't it? I may be High Initiate, Tarod, but I'm realist enough to acknowledge
that as a sorcerer I'm a babe in arms by comparison to you. And if you have no answers, then the Circle is as impotent as you say."

  Tarod looked away, but before he did Keridil saw something in his friend's eyes that he could only interpret as pain. In an undertone, he added, "Don't distress yourself. Greater minds than ours have wrestled with the nature of the Warps for generation upon generation, and failed. There's no ignominy in that. And the frustration's something we've all learned to live with." From an anteroom a burst of laughter broke out, followed by the sounds of musical instruments being tuned. "Listen -- " Keridil said. "There are some who are determined to see the night through in more entertainment. Aeoris knows I've all but lost sight of the fact that today is intended as a celebration; but it's not too late to remedy that. Let's join the guests, Tarod. If we can forget for a while, the picture may seem less bleak by morning."

  Tarod regarded him briefly, then shook his dark head. "Keridil, I'm sorry. You're right; we are here to celebrate, and I'm at fault for letting other things take too strong a hold." He smiled as from the adjacent room someone began to play a manzon, the long-necked, seven-stringed instrument that demanded a high degree of musical ability. The player was skilled, and moments later a woman's voice joined in with an old, haunting song that Tarod knew well. Without a further word he clapped Keridil on the shoulder and the two men moved towards the room.

  As they entered the dimly lit chamber, Tarod wished profoundly that he could rid his mind of the doubts and fears that plagued him, and which had been at the root of his unease tonight. He hadn't intended to burden Keridil with his suspicions today of all days, but somehow the words had been out before he could stop them. And over and beyond the evidence which he had heard tonight from the Margraves there was an inner conviction of something savagely, terribly wrong which refused to be shaken. Try as he might he couldn't defy the feeling; nor could he counter the certainty that recent events were inextricably linked with Yandros's strange prediction concerning the quest which he would be called upon to fulfill.

  Frustration welled in him and he clenched both hands, feeling the contours of his ring dig sharply into his left palm. He sensed and suspected so much, yet knew nothing -- and the long days of waiting for some sign, some move from whatever power Yandros wielded was becoming almost more than he could bear.

  Abruptly he pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. He was tired, and the gesture was an attempt to banish weariness as well as the unpleasant trains of thought. He hadn't been attending to the music or his surroundings, but as the song ended he was surprised by the strength of the applause that followed, and realized that the room was quite crowded. Keridil was clapping enthusiastically, lending his voice to the chorus that called for more, and for the first time Tarod looked towards the small space in the center of the room where the impromptu performers sat. The manzon-player was hunched over his instrument making fine adjustments to the tuning, and the low candlelight, catching and winking on a single small gold spear that hung from one ear, marked him as Ranil Trynan, son of one of the Castle stewards. How he had inveigled his way into such a company was a mystery, but his skills as a musician opened doors that would otherwise be barred to him, and when he finally looked up the smile on his thin, sly face showed that he considered himself in his natural element.

  Yet despite Ranil's obvious satisfaction it was the singer at his side who drew the more attention. For a few moments Tarod didn't recognize the tall young woman with the soft contralto voice, for she had changed her gown and cast off the Sister-Novice's veil. Then she looked up, and Sashka's dark brown eyes met his gaze with a challenge that he remembered from their earlier encounter.

  Tarod's lips curved in a cool smile, and he was gratified to see her blush in response. Then she made an imperious gesture to Ranil and the young musician played the opening chords of a song that was currently popular in West High Land; a complex melody demanding the utmost from player and vocalist alike. Sashka began to sing, and one or two of the more knowledgeable among the listeners immediately applauded her courage at attempting such a difficult piece. Tarod felt the music soothing his ruffled emotions; half closing his green eyes he allowed it to take a hold of his mind, carrying him along with the rest of the audience, until Keridil's voice in his ear broke the reverie.

  "She sings sweeter than anyone I've heard in many a long month... is she a bard, I wonder?"

  Without thinking, Tarod shook his head. "No. She's a Novice, from the West High Land Cot."

  "Oh, yes..." Keridil grinned. "Now I've placed her -- she's the one you were dancing with after the banquet ended. I compliment you on your good taste, Tarod. What is her name?"

  Aware that Keridil was good-naturedly trying to embarrass him, Tarod returned the grin with an utterly impassive stare. "Sashka Veyyil."

  "Not the Veyyil Saravins?" The High Initiate raised his eyebrows. "Then she's a catch, right enough!" He paused. "And beautiful, too... there's a rare look about her; as if she could present a challenge to any man." His tone was wry as he added, "She's a far cry from the Inista Jairs of this world."

  "Yes," said Tarod non-committally.

  Keridil was silent for a while as they both listened to the music. Then, in a slightly different undertone, he said, "It would be unwise to cross her clan. They're very influential."

  Tarod frowned, glancing at him. There had been something in Keridil's voice that hinted at jealousy, and that was unlike him.

  "I've no intention of crossing them," he said. "Gods, I only encountered the girl for the first time this evening!"

  "Nonetheless, she's singing this song for you and you alone -- I can see it in her eyes," Keridil countered. "I suspect that any light affair with that one could lead to trouble."

  A cold anger rose in Tarod, and his eyes glittered as he looked at the other man. Keridil's uncharacteristic sour envy rankled, and he took even less kindly to the implication that his own ethics were under scrutiny.

  "I imagine the lady's of age and can decide her own preferences," he said icily. "Although, of course, if you feel that my reputation's dubious it's obviously your solemn duty to warn her against me. That is, if you think that she'll be deterred by it."

  Before Keridil could answer, he had brushed past and was making his way through the crowded room towards the window, from where he would have a better vantage point. Sashka's gaze followed him, and when she thought she had caught his eye she allowed her expression to break into a sweet, hesitant smile.

  "Sashka." Tarod took the girl's hand and bowed over it. "Thank you for your singing. You've changed what would otherwise have been a dull and dreary occasion into something that I'll cherish."

  Even as he spoke he was surprised to find the compliment coming so easily and so genuinely. He had always been capable of playing the courtier but rarely chose to do so; when he did, a cynical part of his mind was well aware that the words were a glib means to a purely self-indulgent end. Yet somehow, faced by this girl with her patrician face and candid eyes, he could do nothing other than speak the truth. In the space of two brief meetings she had had a profound effect on him, and the resulting sense of vulnerability was something Tarod was unused to.

  Sashka lowered her gaze, allowing only a small part of her delight to show in her expression. "Thank you. But I fear I'm badly out of practice -- my studies don't allow a great deal of time for other pleasures."

  "You underestimate your talent." He was still holding her hand, and from the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of Keridil watching them from across the room. The night's entertainment was finally over and the revellers drifting away to their beds, though a few diehards still sat drinking and talking quietly near the banked-down fire. Sashka's father was not in evidence, nor any senior Sisters, and Sashka herself showed no wish to leave.

  "I had hoped," she said softly, "that I might have danced with you again tonight. But it seemed you were too busy to rescue me a second time."

  He smiled thinly. "In th
e face of your father's disapproval? I wouldn't incur the wrath of a Veyyil Saravin!"

  "Oh, that..." Sashka had the good grace to flush slightly. "You mustn't mind his manner -- he was simply annoyed with me because he had planned to introduce me to your High Initiate and I was nowhere to be found."

  Involuntarily, Tarod glanced at the place where Keridil had been standing, but the other man had moved away. A flicker of the old anger returned and he replied coolly, "If that was what you wished, you need only have asked."

  "I didn't say it was what I wished." Now Sashka's eyes issued an unmistakable challenge. "And I think I'm of an age to make my own decisions in such matters."

  The anger faded and vanished, and Tarod laughed gently. "Lady, I wouldn't dream of doubting it!"

  "Then perhaps we might resume what was so abruptly curtailed earlier?"

  Tarod was aware that this girl was using her charm and skill to maneuver him, but her wiles hardly seemed to matter. He had a powerful desire to touch her, push his hands through the heavy masses of copper-brown hair, taste her, explore her, find out what true manner of woman hid beneath the beauty and the guile. It was a heady sensation, new to him, and he wasn't sure how best to react to it.

  Sashka, however, had no doubts. Her second meeting with the tall, dark Adept had more than confirmed the first impressions she had formed, and now that she had another opportunity to express her interest without family interference she was determined to make the most of it. Seeing Tarod hesitate at her blunt question, she added, pitching her voice very low, "My father and mother are long abed, but I couldn't sleep if I tried. I am too... stimulated."

  The words were ambiguous to say the least, and Tarod smiled, taking her hand once again. "So how may I entertain you?"

  She made a small shrug that somehow conveyed far more than was obvious on the surface. "I should like to walk for a while," she said. "It's such a fine night... I've heard that there are many hundreds of people camped beyond the Castle walls. Their fires must be a spectacular sight."