The Initiate

by Louise Cooper

  "Lady..." Sashka was still staring down at Tarod, and the expression on her face was a peculiar mixture of resentment, pride and guile. "Might I have your permission to ride to the Castle with the escort party?"

  "Ride to the Castle? Child, whatever for?"

  Sashka tossed her hair back. "I believe I can give the High Initiate the clearest account of all that's happened here tonight. And -- I should like him to know that I was personally responsible for his enemy's capture."

  Kael immediately saw the drift of the girl's thoughts, and didn't know whether to give her a scalding reprimand for her arrogance or laugh at her sheer presumption. Then she recalled the wording of Keridil Toln's letter, the concern he had shown for her, and wryly reminded herself that Sashka's hopes and plans had been cruelly dashed from her grasp tonight -- however devious she might be, she at least deserved a second chance in recompense.

  "Very well," she conceded. "You can be chaperoned by Sister Erminet, as her services will be required on the journey."

  Sashka turned towards her, her face lit by a smile as sweet and innocent as a flower. "Thank you, Madam!"

  The party left at dawn, and comprised four burly laborers from the valley farmsteads, mounted on their heavy, placid horses and acutely aware of their elevated responsibility. They carried pitchforks and staves, holding them upright like lances, and formed a guard before and behind the two women -- Sashka and Sister Erminet -- and the chestnut mare, found grazing beyond the Cot walls, onto which Tarod had been tied.

  Sister Erminet's narcotics had ensured that Tarod stood no chance of regaining consciousness until the day was well advanced, and he was roped in the saddle with his hands bound beneath the mare's neck so that he lay with his face buried in her mane. After one brief, contemptuous glance at him Sashka didn't once trouble to look back as the small cavalcade wound its way up the valley sides towards the mountains rising grimly in the distance. She was still simmering with the anger of having been cheated, as she felt, but overtaking that was excitement at the prospect of meeting the High Initiate again, and under circumstances which held so much potential.

  The horses gained the rim of the valley and started along the road. As they went, Sashka felt something hard digging into her side which irritated her. She felt in her pouch -- the apparent source of the trouble -- and brought out the gold Initiate's badge which Tarod had given her. It seemed so long ago now, and the token meant nothing. For a moment or two she stared at the gold circle with its bisecting lightning flash as it lay in the palm of her hand. Then, with a careless gesture, she flung it aside into the undergrowth. The metal winked brilliantly among the grasses and one of the farm horses snorted and side-stepped, alarmed by the glittering, alien thing. Then a cloud passed across the crimson face of the sun, and the small gold light went out as the party continued on its way.

  Chapter 16

  "We owe you a debt, Sister-Novice Sashka Veyyil." The elderly Councillor took Sashka's hand and bowed over it in a manner normally reserved only for high-ranking -- and older -- women. "You have done us a great service, and the Circle's gratitude is entirely yours."

  Sashka suppressed her pride and pleasure under a mask of proper sobriety, and curtsied. "I believe that I did nothing more than my duty to Aeoris, sir. But I'm very honored by your kindness." As she spoke she glanced briefly and obliquely at the fair-haired man who stood a little apart from the others in the elegantly furnished room. He was the only one who hadn't yet spoken a word to her, and she was both disappointed and disquieted, wondering if she had upset or offended him in some way. After all, he had been a close friend to the man who now lay unconscious in a heavily guarded room in another wing of the Castle... but the letter, his letter, she reminded herself, had seemed to hold so much promise....

  Keridil saw the girl glance at him and his pulse quickened uncomfortably. The look in her eyes had combined appeal with challenge, but although he believed he had interpreted her meaning he was still reluctant to speak. Thus far he had allowed the Council elders to offer the elaborate thanks and praises that were due to Sashka, preferring to stay in the background until he was more sure of himself.

  He couldn't entirely banish the memory of the shock he had felt when the party from West High Land arrived at the Castle a scant hour ago. For a moment, confronted with Tarod's immobile figure bound to the mare's back without regard for respect or dignity, guilt had gnawed at him like a hungry rat. Then he saw Sashka, and the guilt was lost under an onslaught of other emotions.

  Listening to her story, which she told with a quiet calm that greatly impressed him, the old hopes began to stir afresh in Keridil's mind. He no longer had cause to be jealous -- Sashka had broken all ties with Tarod of her own volition, and was free again. If her change of heart was genuine -- and Keridil had no reason to believe otherwise -- then the frustratingly unreachable had suddenly become a possibility.

  He realized that he was staring at her like some callow stable lad, and hurriedly averted his gaze. If he could just find the opportunity to speak to her alone....

  Sashka, too, was harboring similar thoughts. Although she revelled in the praise heaped on her by the Councillors, she nonetheless wished the old men would have done with their speeches and go. She wanted the chance to look more openly around this room, which she gathered was the High Initiate's personal study; and she wanted a chance to speak to the High Initiate without the encumbrance of so many observers -- and most of all without the encumbrance of her chaperone.

  Sashka made no secret of the fact that she loathed and despised Sister Erminet Rowald. Skilled herbalist she might be, but in Sashka's view she was also a withered, viper-tongued martinet whose suspicious mind and prying eyes missed no breach, however small, of her own exacting standards. She could be sure that Sister Erminet would report every detail of her encounter with the High Initiate back to Kael Amion, enriching the mixture with her own acerbic observations. And Sister Erminet would be unlikely in the extreme to allow her charge to leave her sight for a moment....

  Sashka jumped when the elderly Sister suddenly spoke, as though activated by her sour thoughts.

  "Sirs, if you will permit me, I really think I should return to my patient." Throughout the journey she had primly referred to Tarod as a 'patient.' "Your physician is, of course, a fine man; but as I've attended to the necessities thus far..." She pursed her mouth in an eloquent dismissal of Grevard's capabilities and added, "I'd never forgive myself if anything were to go amiss now."

  Before any of the Councillors could reply, Keridil stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Sister," he said, smiling an apology. "We've been selfish in detaining you -- you've had a long and difficult journey. As soon as you've satisfied yourself that all's well, you must take time to rest. Gentlemen," he nodded to the Councillors, "we must take our leave of the good Sisters until later."

  Sister Erminet was impervious to charm. Firmly, she repeated, "I must attend to my patient first, High Initiate. With respect. Perhaps if one of your womenfolk can take charge of Sashka -- "

  "Gladly. But -- with your permission, of course -- I'd appreciate the chance to speak with her alone for a few minutes." He drew the Sister a little aside so that they couldn't be overheard. "It's a necessity I regret, but she must be questioned more fully -- there may be details that only she can tell us which have a bearing on this dismal affair. And I suspect she's less likely to feel intimidated if she isn't surrounded by inquisitors."

  Sister Erminet inclined her head. "It's as you wish, High Initiate, naturally." Then she glanced up and her eyes were suddenly candid. "I don't pretend to understand the girl's motives in doing what she did, however dutiful. There's something unnatural in a betrayal of that nature."

  Keridil felt himself coloring. "Nonetheless, we've very good reason to be grateful to her, Sister. So possibly the whys and wherefores are less... relevant than they otherwise might have been."

  She cast her gaze down. "Quite so."

  Sashka offered a silent prayer of than
ks as she watched Sister Erminet leave the study with the Councillors following in her wake. The small miracle she had hardly dared hope for had happened: she was alone with Keridil.

  For what seemed to her a very long time they stood facing each other, neither speaking. Finally, it was Keridil who broke the silence.

  "I'm glad to have this chance to thank you personally," he said quietly.

  Sashka stared down at her own clasped hands. "I appreciate your kindness. High Initiate. Under the circumstances, I wondered if -- you might perhaps not feel -- " She stopped, licking her lips uneasily.

  Keridil sighed. "Tarod and I were friends since childhood," he said. "I won't deny that the decision I made has been one of the hardest of my life -- but your decision must have been infinitely harder."

  This, she knew, was the test. Keridil wanted -- perhaps even needed -- to know that the severance of her ties with Tarod was truly final. Her answer now could be crucial... and she hoped she hadn't misjudged his motives.

  Turning towards the window, she said. "Tarod and I would have been married here in the Castle. He told me that you had agreed to officiate."

  "Yes... Do you still wish it could be, Sashka?"

  "No." Her answer was so immediate and so firm, that it surprised him. Then she added, still not looking at him, "You see -- he told me. Far more than was in your letter. In fact, I don't believe he hid anything from me."

  "Then you know about... Rhiman Han?"

  "The man he killed? Yes. He told me that, too."

  Keridil believed he was beginning to understand. Only a few days ago, in this very room, he had asked Tarod point-blank whether Sashka had anything to fear from him. Tarod had vehemently denied the possibility; but it seemed that Sashka felt differently -- and fear, Keridil knew, was a soul-eating destroyer. Suddenly he pitied the girl; and with pity came a resurgence of the other feelings.

  "Sashka..." He moved towards her and tentatively laid a hand on her shoulder. He'd intended the gesture to be -- or at least seem -- nothing more than kindly, but she half turned towards him, so that he could see the warmth and hope in her dark eyes.

  "I'm sorry..." he said indistinctly. "You must have suffered so much..."

  She gave a little shrug. "It hardly seems to matter now. It is as though this has all been a bad dream... and besides, my troubles are of no consequence to you. High Initiate."

  "Keridil," he corrected her gently. "And you do yourself an injustice, Sashka -- your troubles are of consequence." His hand still touched her shoulder, and she made no attempt to move away. So softly that her voice was hardly audible she asked, "What will happen to Tarod, now?"

  Keridil hesitated. He was anxious not to upset her, and yet the question couldn't be avoided forever. She'd learn the truth before long, even if he tried to hide it from her now.

  He said, "The Council of Adepts has condemned him, Sashka. There was no other choice."

  "Then he'll die?"

  "Yes..."

  She nodded slowly, as though giving herself time to absorb the fact. Then she said, "How?"

  "It might be better if you weren't to know." Keridil was thankful that at this moment she wasn't watching his face. "It'll be a Circle matter. I would have wished it otherwise, but... certain procedures must be followed."

  Sashka turned to look up at him, her dark eyes narrowed. "In dealing with a demon?"

  Keridil stared at her in consternation, and her look became almost challenging. "It's the truth, isn't it, Keridil? Please, don't try to spare my feelings! A man whose soul resides in the stone of a ring can't be truly human, can he?" She stepped away, back towards the window. "I've thought a great deal about it on the journey from the Cot, and I believe I'm strong enough to face cold facts. If I'd wed Tarod, I would have wed a demon." She looked at him again. "Isn't that true?"

  True, yes, Keridil thought; or close enough to the truth... Aloud, he said, "You're very courageous, Sashka. Few women could face that thought with such equanimity."

  She smiled bleakly. "What could I gain by deluding myself? I prefer to give thanks for my good fortune in finding out before it was too late."

  "Yet there must be regret."

  "Oh, regret; yes. Though maybe not quite the degree of regret that you might think, Keridil."

  He felt his pulse quickening and wished that the room didn't seem so stifling. "No?"

  Sashka shook her head. "Even before this, I'd wondered, asked myself, was I doing right in pledging myself to Tarod? And the answer troubled me a great deal."

  "But you loved him," Keridil reminded her. Some perverse part of his mind had to challenge every statement, doubt every hope.

  Sashka smiled. "I admired him; and I believed admiration and love were one and the same. I was wrong. And now, I think that we would have made each other very unhappy.''

  It was a statement that even in his wildest fantasies Keridil hadn't expected to hear from her lips. Somewhere at the back of his brain a small voice protested that her change of heart seemed too glib, or even callous; but it was overridden by the rising tide of infatuation with the beautiful girl and he pushed it aside.

  "Perhaps," he said gently, "I can help to assuage just a little of your unhappiness?"

  She lowered her gaze demurely. "You're very kind."

  "Not kind -- selfish." He took her hand. "If you'll do me the honor of dining with me tonight... I can arrange for a meal to be served to us here, alone."

  A flicker of amusement showed in Sashka's eyes. "Sister Erminet will be outraged."

  "I'll tell Sister Erminet that I wish to spare you from the ordeal of public attention. I'm not above using my rank to get her agreement."

  Sashka giggled, stifling it with a hand over her mouth, and the High Initiate grinned. "There -- I've made you laugh in spite of your tribulations! That's a good beginning."

  "Yes," she agreed more soberly, but with an answering warm smile. "A very good beginning."

  "Sashka..."

  Sister Erminet turned, startled by the unexpected voice, and saw the man on the bed beginning to stir. She muttered an imprecation under her breath, and reached towards the array of phials and pots on the table at her side. By rights he should have remained unconscious at least until evening; he must have the constitution of a northern-bred horse to have shaken off her last dosage of narcotics so quickly.

  Rolling up her sleeves, she began to mix together pinches of two different powders from her own supply and to blend the result into a cup of wine. In her long experience she had discovered that even the most recalcitrant of patients could usually be persuaded to take wine....

  "Sashka..."

  The voice came again, stronger this time though still slurred with the effects of the drug. Sister Erminet abandoned her preparations and crossed to the bed, where she stared down for a moment before expertly pulling up one of Tarod's eyelids. The eye was glazed; he could see nothing, and she doubted that he had any control over his limbs as yet, which made him harmless enough. She was about to move back to her table when a hand suddenly reached up and, weakly but surely, gripped her arm.

  "Please..."

  "Aeoris!" Erminet's heart lurched painfully in shock, and Tarod's eyes opened.

  He couldn't see her. His mind was fighting a losing battle against a fog of numbing confusion, he had no more strength than a small child -- but he was aware of her presence, and an unerring instinct told him that he was back in the Castle. He couldn't reason why that thought should fill him with anger and dread, and part of him wanted to laugh at his own foolishness.

  "Castle," he said.

  Sister Erminet's mouth pursed. "Yes, we're in the Castle. Though the Gods alone know if you're capable of understanding what that means. You shouldn't be." She eyed her collection of drugs suspiciously.

  "Sashka -- had to tell Sashka." Gradually his mind was clearing a little, though any coherent memory of recent events still eluded him.

  Sister Erminet didn't answer. She had already made up her mind to dose h
er charge with a further potion that would keep him physically helpless, while allowing him to maintain a reasonable degree of mental coherence. Too much tampering with the brain could be very dangerous, and her own ethics wouldn't permit her to risk damaging her patient in any way.

  "Here," she said briskly, "drink this, if you can." She thanked good fortune that Tarod was still too confused to argue, and watched with relief as he swallowed the contents of the wine-cup that she held to his lips. A seventh-rank Adept wasn't a man to be trifled with at the best of times; and if half the tales she had heard about this one were true then she wouldn't wish to meet him face to face if he regained his full sensibilities. She took the cup away, returned it to the table -- and when she turned back again she was shocked to see that the green eyes were fully open, intelligent, and fixed in an unwavering gaze on her face.

  Tarod said harshly, "Who are you?"

  The Sister-Senior took a deep breath to calm herself. "I am Sister Erminet Rowald. You've been put in my charge until further notice -- no, please don't try to move. I'm afraid you'll find you're not capable."

  Tarod had attempted to raise one arm, but found the effort beyond him. For a moment he all but panicked: then he realized what was afoot.

  "You're a herbalist." His mouth curled in a chilly, humorless smile, though it took a great effort. "You've drugged me."

  "On the orders of the High Initiate and the Lady Kael Amion, yes." Sister Erminet paused, then suddenly returned the smile wryly. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?" He almost spat the word, and she shrugged her narrow, sinewy shoulders.

  "Spurn my sympathy if it pleases you, Adept, but you'll find it from few other quarters here."

  Tarod was beginning to piece together the fragments of his twisted jigsaw of memory. He remembered the stave that had felled him... and the hand that had wielded it. A terrible sensation that he couldn't identify swelled suffocatingly within him, and he whispered, "Where is Sashka...?"

  Sister Erminet had learned enough of the background to Tarod's story to take an inspired guess at the remainder, and she frowned. "Take my advice, and don't trouble yourself about Sister-Novitiate Sashka."