The Initiate

by Louise Cooper

  Seemingly from a vast distance someone called his name; he ignored the summons, brushed a servant out of his path and heard a surprised exclamation. As yet few of the Castle's inhabitants beyond Keridil and the more senior Council members had heard the details of Rhiman's and Themila's deaths; Keridil wanted the facts suppressed until Tarod was dead, and so no one made any attempt to stop him as he stormed to the hall's double doors and out into the courtyard.

  Bright sunlight dazzled his eyes and he stopped, confused. The only desire in his mind had been a savage, animal need to find Keridil and kill him, but reason was fighting its way back through the miasma in his brain. He might exact revenge, but he would still have the entire Circle to contend with -- and even he couldn't stand against their combined strength. He didn't want to die... his vengeance on Keridil must wait.

  Abruptly he turned and headed in the direction of the stables. It hadn't occurred to him to wonder where, in all the world, he might go; all that mattered was to get away from the Castle and the taint of misery and betrayal.

  His arrival at the stables caused the horses to stamp and kick in their stalls. Fin Tivan Bruall, who had been enjoying what he considered a well-earned doze among a heap of straw bales, woke with a start and began to swear roundly at the intruder who had upset him and his charges. One look at Tarod's face killed the curses on his tongue.

  "The chestnut mare," Tarod said icily. "Is she here?"

  "That bad-tempered beast? She's here, master, but -- "

  "Saddle her." Tarod rounded on the horsemaster as he began to protest again. "Don't argue with me, man, if you value your neck! Saddle her!"

  Fin's face lost its florid color and he scrambled to obey. The mare recognized her one-time rider and had caught something of his state of mind. She fought Fin as he struggled to fit saddle and bridle, snapping at him and rolling her eyes in agitation. By the time the horsemaster had manhandled her out into the courtyard she was sweating profusely and on the verge of panic.

  "Master, no man could ride her in this condition!" Fin pleaded breathlessly. "It'd be suicide!"

  Tarod strode forward and took hold of the mare's bridle. "Damn your flusterings!" He wrenched the mare's head round and, as she side-stepped in protest, pulled himself up into the saddle. The mare bucked and Tarod lashed her across the flank with the looped ends of the reins. At this moment he felt that he loathed every living thing in the entire world, and he wasn't about to be bested by an animal.

  Fin Tivan Bruall jumped aside as the mare plunged forward. Tarod was well aware that they were attracting attention from people in the courtyard, but if they wanted to stop him they had left it too late. He held the creature back by sheer force until they were almost at the Castle gates; then he gave her her head.

  The raucous echo of hooves on stone was almost deafening as the mare flung herself through the great arch and out on to the sward beyond. They headed at breakneck speed through the Maze, and the contours of the vast, brooding northern coast seemed to spring out of nowhere with giddying suddenness as the animal galloped onto the treacherous path of the causeway.

  Tarod wouldn't have cared if the mare's headlong flight had hurled them over the edge of the narrow granite bridge and down to the wild sea so far below. He was yelling at her now, lying flat along her neck and urging her harder, faster; almost goading her to kill them both. But she gained the far side safely, racing on across the Peninsula, and as they left the Castle behind, the blind, raging madness that had taken hold of Tarod at last began to fade and to be replaced by an emotion that wrenched him to the core.

  He had left behind everything he had ever known, severed the links which had bound him since childhood. They had spurned his loyalty, cursed him, condemned him... he was no longer a part of their world, but an outcast. Friendship had turned overnight to bitter enmity; his dearest mentor and only champion was dead... the Circle held nothing for him but pain.

  Where could he go? The Circle had been his life; he had no kin, no friends beyond its confines. All he had was one single belief, and one single hope.

  Sashka. By now she must have left her father's house to return to the Cot at West High Land and await him. He had no illusions that, once news was abroad, the Lady Kael Amion would join in the condemnation as vehemently as any Circle Initiate; but Lady Kael was neither Sashka's parent nor her guardian. And his beautiful, faithful, headstrong lover would pay no heed to the warnings or strictures of her elders, but would follow her own heart.

  He needed her now, as never before. Once they were together again they could make plans and decide what was to be done -- their future would be very different now, but whatever happened they would never need to part again....

  The mare had slowed, her wildness expended. More gently than before, but with if anything a greater determination, Tarod gathered up the reins and urged her forward, towards the narrow and dangerous road that led deep into the heart of the mountains.

  Chapter 15

  Even with full winter approaching, and the few trees that grew this far north already stripped of their leaves, the garden of the West High Land Sisterhood Cot was a pleasant place to spend an hour or two. Sashka had come out from the recreation hall, where she and the other Novices were expected to pass their free time amusing themselves with pastimes suited to girls of their elevated station, and was thankful to have escaped from what she considered the inanities of her peers. During her visit to her parents she had almost forgotten how tedious life in the Cot could be. Whichever way she turned she came face to face with authority in one form or another; and for a girl used to having her own way in all things the strictures of the Sisterhood could be very irritating indeed.

  She smiled to herself as she walked slowly down one of the paved paths of the garden, stopping to pick a late flower from one of the well-tended shrubs. In truth, she had to admit to herself that there were other factors involved in her rapidly changing attitude towards the Sisterhood. Tarod had opened her eyes to horizons that stretched far beyond anything she had previously imagined; now the Sisterhood -- once the peak of her ambitions -- seemed like a pale substitute compared to her taste of the Circle and its ways.

  She slipped a hand into her waist-pouch and for the five hundredth time fingered the Initiate's gold badge hidden there. She remembered her father's reaction to the love-token with satisfaction; it had been her final triumph over any lingering disapproval or doubt, and since proudly displaying it she had heard nothing but praise for the high-ranking Adept who was about to honor their clan with his name, and urgent pleas that she should bid him welcome to their house at the earliest possible opportunity.

  The one small discontent that nagged at her was the fact that as yet Tarod had not fulfilled his promise to come and claim her. That had been partly behind her sudden decision to return to West High Land; her parents' entreaties were becoming tiresome and she had longed for the comparative solitude of the Cot in its isolated valley. She still had no doubts that he would come as soon as he could, but it would do him no harm to arrive at her father's house and find her gone. A promise, Sashka reflected, was a promise; if Circle business had kept him at the Star Peninsula longer than he'd anticipated, then he would have to learn that her needs took precedence over anything the Castle might demand of him.

  However, she had quickly realized that she was as restless at the Cot as she had ever been in her parents' household. And her state of mind wasn't helped by the eager curiosity of her fellow Novices, who were agog with banal questions about the Adept to whom she had pledged herself, or by the tacit but unmistakable disapproval of the Senior Sister, the Lady Kael Amion.

  Sashka remembered her interview in Lady Kael's study with some discomfort. The Lady had proffered congratulations, obviously feeling that she had no option in the matter, but her manner had been distant, almost cold. Sashka had been bold enough to ask her outright if she disapproved of the alliance, and Lady Kael had come close to losing her temper -- something rare in such a normally stoica
l character.

  "The advisability or otherwise of your marriage is the concern of your clan, Sashka," she had rejoined tartly. "All I can say is that, as a Novice of this Sisterhood, you should by now have learned a wisdom and a judgment that is denied to less fortunate women. I hope that you'll use it to your own best advantage."

  Sashka had pondered the old Senior's words for some days before deciding that her admonition stemmed from nothing more than jealousy. Lady Kael had never married, and the younger girls were fond of speculating on the manner of disappointments she must have suffered in her youth. It amused Sashka to reflect that, were Kael fifty years younger, she would probably have made a play for Tarod herself.

  "Sashka!" A breathless voice hailed her from some distance away, and Sashka stopped, turning. Vetke Ansillyn, her closest friend and study-companion at the Cot, was puffing along the path towards her, hampered by her skirts and an excess of weight. Her face was bright scarlet, and she looked agitated.

  Mercilessly, Sashka made no attempt to ease Vetke's distress by going to meet her. She merely stood where she was, idly pulling the petals from the flower she had picked, until the plump girl panted to a halt beside her.

  "Sashka, the Novices have been looking everywhere for you! The Lady wants to see you in her study, at once!"

  "The Lady... ?" Sashka frowned. Whatever could the Lady Kael want with her... ?

  "Oh Sashka, I hope it's not bad news!" Vetke was agog with curiosity. Uneasily, Sashka brushed her aside.

  "Good or bad, you'll know soon enough, the way gossip travels in this place..." She started off along the path, Vetke in pursuit. Sashka's long stride soon outdistanced the other girl, and in the empty main corridor of the Cot she broke into a run until she arrived outside the Senior's door. Her knock produced an instant response, and she entered to find Kael Amion seated at her desk, her face pale. In her hand she held an unfolded letter, and before she laid it down Sashka thought she glimpsed the High Initiate's seal on the outside.

  "You sent for me, Madam?" Despite her avowed contempt of authority it was a reflex for Sashka to curtsey; few dared openly treat a Senior of the Sisterhood with anything less than the utmost respect.

  "Sashka..." Kael Amion rose, and her voice was filled with a concern and sympathy that made the girl quake inwardly. "Sit down, please. I'm afraid I have news to tell you that is not at all happy."

  Her father? Her mother? Not Tarod, please Aeoris, not Tarod... Sashka sank into the nearest chair, white-faced.

  Lady Kael spoke slowly, her wrinkled face taut with an emotion Sashka couldn't interpret. "I have today received an urgent letter from the High Initiate in person, and its contents have disturbed me deeply. It's not my habit to allow Novices to be privy to correspondence of such a high order... but under the circumstances, I believe you have a right to know the letter's contents." With an abrupt gesture she thrust the parchment towards Sashka.

  The girl took it with shaking hands. At first, absurdly, her only coherent thought was that Keridil Toln wrote in a neat and graceful hand, well suited to his position... then she shook her head to clear it, and forced herself to take in the words.

  For a very long time there was silence in the Lady's study. A stray shaft of sunlight struck through the window onto Sashka's bowed head, making her hair glow like copper. Kael Amion watched the girl carefully and shrewdly. There was so much more she herself could add to the letter's contents; whether she spoke out or kept silent would depend on the girl's reaction....

  Eventually, Sashka looked up. Tears glittered in her eyes, and her mouth twisted into a grimace as she hissed under her breath. 'Wo! I don't believe a word... Lady, I don't believe it!"

  It was no worse than Kael had expected. After all, the girl had thought herself betrothed to this serpent in their midst -- no one could expect her to accept the truth immediately when it had been thrown so unexpectedly at her feet.

  "Sashka... my child, listen to me. I understand your feeling -- but the High Initiate is a man of justice and honor." She licked her lips. "You must know that he has been a close friend to your -- to the Adept Tarod since they were both children. It is as hard for him to make this statement as it is for you to accept it."

  Chaos... The word seemed to burn into Sashka's brain. Tarod, a denizen of Chaos, not truly human... She tried to find the words of protest she wanted, but they refused to come; in sheer frustration she burst into a storm of tears, and was only dimly aware of Lady Kael moving stiffly round the desk to hold her and comfort her as though she were a small child.

  At last the storm subsided and she gulped noisily into a handkerchief, finally dabbing angrily at her eyes, aware even through her unhappiness that blotched cheeks did nothing for her beauty.

  "Better?" Kael Amion asked gently.

  "Y-yes... thank you, Madam..."

  "I know it must have come as a terrible shock to you, Sashka, but you must believe that the High Initiate is in earnest." Kael took the parchment from the girl, smoothed it, glanced over the last few paragraphs again. "He says there can be no possible doubt -- that Tarod himself doesn't deny the truth of these allegations. And he asks me to convey to you his deepest sympathies. He particularly mentions you, Sashka -- he clearly thinks a good deal of you."

  The words broke through Sashka's confused misery and she remembered Keridil's phrasing. "Please convey my warmest regards to the lady Sashka Veyyil, and my deepest sympathies in what must be for her a time of the gravest trial." A message from the High Initiate, to her in person... and she hadn't even known that he was aware of her existence....

  "My child." Kael Amion had retaken her seat behind the desk, but leaned forward to take hold of Sashka's hands. "You must see that this casts an entirely different light on your marriage plans. The Gods know it's a hard thing for me to say, but -- "

  Sashka interrupted her. "Lady, has -- has my father been told of this?"

  Kael blinked. "No -- I only received the High Initiate's letter this very morning. But he will have to know, Sashka. You can't hope to keep such news from him."

  A faint note of censure had crept into her voice, and Sashka swallowed. "I -- I didn't mean..." She felt the tears starting again and forced them back.

  Kael saw the seeds of rebellion, and decided that they must be stopped before they could germinate and take root. She had privately worried about her Novice's forth-coming marriage since the news had been imparted to her; and Keridil's letter served to confirm, albeit in a way she would never have dreamed possible, the fears and doubts she had long harbored about Tarod. She reflected bitterly that most of the blame for Tarod's rise to prominence in the Circle could be laid at her own door; had she not given succor to the waif lost in the northwestern mountains so many years ago, it was unlikely he would have survived to bring this havoc on them all. It was an unworthy thought, particularly as the child had saved her own life and several others; but Kael was essentially a pragmatist, and wished that her seeing powers had not failed her so badly on that fateful night.

  She turned her attention to Sashka once more. The girl was staring at her, but Kael had the impression that her brain made no sense of what she saw. Shock -- it was understandable, but the girl had to be brought out of it as quickly as possible and made to see reason. Otherwise, her headstrong nature might begin to assert itself and all manner of foolish, defiant notions could enter her head.

  "Sashka," she said sternly, "one thing must be made clear from the very beginning. Your marriage cannot now possibly take place."

  Sashka half rose from her chair in protest. "But -- "

  "No! I will have no argument. I know it's hard for you now, but in time you'll understand and be thankful. To marry this man would be to throw away your entire future; everything that both your father's and your mother's clans have worked for generations to achieve. The Circle won't tolerate such a creature among them, and even a high Adept isn't a law unto himself. At best this man is likely to be stripped of his rank and banished from the Circle. At wor
st..." she hesitated. "There has been no execution at the Castle in the memory of any living person, but the precedent isn't unknown."

  Sashka was silent.

  "It would be within the High Initiate's jurisdiction to order his death," Kael continued. "Keridil Toln is a just man, but this," she tapped the parchment for emphasis, "is something beyond crime. It is a sacrilege and a blasphemy against our lord Aeoris. Even if Tarod is allowed to live, he will be an outcast, a pariah. Would you wish to ally yourself with such a one, and incur the scorn of Aeoris to become an outcast at his side?''

  Still Sashka said nothing, and Lady Kael knew that her words had gone home. The Veyyil Saravins were a proud and ambitious family, and this girl had inherited her fair share of their traits -- the idea that standing by Tarod would lose her honor, position and prospects would make its mark once she had had time to consider its implications. If she could add just a small flavor of fear to the recipe, Kael thought, her duty would be done.

  "My dear." She settled herself more comfortably. "You probably don't know this, but I myself have had direct experience of the sorcery of which Tarod is capable and of which the High Initiate writes so shockingly in his letter.''

  Sashka looked up in surprise. "You, Madam?"

  "Yes. It was many years ago, and he was no more than a scrap of a child -- but even then his powers were appallingly evident. Listen to me, and I'll tell you the story..."

  The chestnut mare slithered to a halt on the wet and slippery shale and hung her head, panting for breath. Tarod felt the convulsive heaving of her sides under him and wondered if her wind was broken. He hoped not -- he had long recovered from his bout of angry resentment towards the animal; and besides, he might well need her services again before too long.