by C. L. Wilson
Lauriana went about her errands in a dazed fog, her body automatically carrying her from shop to shop while her mind kept playing and replaying those brief moments in the kitchen when she’d entered and seen…what? She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d seen. It had happened so fast, and she’d been tired after yet another night spent tossing and turning and waking from dreams she couldn’t remember but which left her with an awful feeling of impending doom.
Had Ellie moved the flowers…or had they moved themselves, as it had seemed at first glance? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was magic. That Ellysetta, her sweet kitling, had been weaving evil, unnatural magic, just like the Fey she’d always been so enamored of.
Oh, gods, why had she ever let Ellie nurture her fascination with the Fey? She could have stamped it out years ago, but she hadn’t. To see the way little Ellie’s eyes shone when Sol told her Fey tales of princesses and magic Fey giftfathers and the heroic quests of legendary Fey warriors of old…not even Lauriana’s deep aversion to magic had been impetus enough to rob her daughter of those happy moments. What was the harm, she’d thought, in letting a child enjoy a few stories?
You reap what you sow, Lauriana, and just look what your indulgence has wrought. A daughter betrothed to the worst Fey of them all…a daughter who is turning her back on everything you taught her and abandoning the Way of Light.
The thoughts preyed on Lauriana’s mind, beating at her relentlessly.
In desperation, she headed to the small West End chapel where she and her family worshiped, hoping Father Celinor might be able to offer some sort of guidance.
She should have known better. The young priest was as enamored of the Fey as Ellysetta.
No sooner had she begun to explain her fears than he’d begun defending the Fey, extolling their virtues and cautioning her not to condemn them for the extraordinary graces the gods had granted them.
“We are all the gods’ creatures, Madame Baristani,” he said. “Magic exists in the world because the gods deemed it should be so. Would you despise a flower for its perfume? No? Then why would you despise the Fey for possessing the magic they were born to have?”
“You’re from the south, aren’t you, Father?”
He looked a bit surprised, but nodded. “Yes, from the Tivali Valley, near the Elvian border. I’ve spent more than a few years in and around the company of magical races, and on the whole I’ve always found them to be honorable and worthy folk.”
“Well, I’m from the north,” she countered, “from Dolan near the Eld border. And I know for a fact that not all all magics are good. Nor are all gods, for that matter.”
“I’ll grant you that,” he agreed. “The Shadow Lord is evil, as are his followers—but we’re not talking about Shadowfolk. We’re talking about the Fey, and they have always been noble creatures. Not perfect—no living creatures are—but they do strive to be good. They follow the Way of Light.”
“How do you know that, Father? No human has set foot in the Fading Lands in a thousand years. None of us know what goes on behind the Faering Mists.”
He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up as well. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Madame Baristani. What I can do is offer you the use of the chapel’s Solarus. It’s not as grand as the one at the Cathedral, but I still find peace there when I am troubled.”
It wasn’t the advice she’d hoped for, but it was apparently the best he had to offer. She followed him to the chapel’s small Solarus and stepped inside. The door closed behind her, granting her privacy, and she moved to the altar at the center of the round room. Overhead, the mirrored ceiling and tiny dome set with numerous windows shone light down on the small statue of Adelis perched on the altar slab.
With a sigh, Lauriana knelt, bowed her head, and began to pray. For more than half a bell, she prayed. Sometimes kneeling, sometimes pacing, sometimes weeping, but the peace she sought was more elusive than smoke.
Father Celinor didn’t understand. He’d never seen the ugly side of magic. Not even Sol, a northerner like herself, truly understood. He’d lived his early years in the sheltered town of Callowill while she’d grown up in Dolan, a small and unfortunately strategic logging hamlet nestled in the shadow of two great forests, Greatwood and the dark Verlaine.
Far too many fierce, magical battles of the Wars had been fought on Dolan’s doorstep, and the terrible by-products of those clashes haunted Dolaners still. They knew firsthand the evils of magic. They suffered the attacks of lyrant, the vile, mutated descendants of long-tailed treecats corrupted by black Magery. They witnessed the horrors of children born with ungodly powers, and suffered the agony of giving them up for the good of the town because they knew a worse fate awaited them all if they did not.
Lauriana’s own sister Bessinita, a normally laughing, sweet-natured child of two, had been abandoned in the dark shadows of the Verlaine after she’d thrown a fit of childish temper while playing with a neighbor’s child. That fit had sparked a fire that burned down the neighbor’s house, nearly killed the neighbor’s wife, and left the neighbor’s child badly scarred.
So when Lauriana had found Ellysetta sitting under that tree north of Norban so many years ago, she’d known exactly what it meant. She’d known she should just turn and walk away. But the child’s cap of ringlets and big, solemn eyes had dredged up such tearful memories of sweet Bess that Lauriana couldn’t bring herself to walk past.
She’d made a bargain with the Lord of Light. If He would keep the child’s magic leashed, Lauriana would raise the little girl in the Way of Light and do everything in her power to ensure that the child never strayed from the Bright Path.
She’d asked Him for a sign, and a shaft of sunlight had broken through the canopy of trees and shone directly on the baby, illuminating her curls like a halo of gold and flame. That was when Lauriana knew she’d been meant to find this child, that she’d been meant to save her as she could not save her sister Bess.
She’d kept her side of the bargain. She’d raised Ellie in the church, loved her with all her heart, and taught her to fear and reject magic. And though it had been like driving knives into her own flesh, she’d even turned her precious child over to the exorcists when those evil childhood seizures seemed proof that darkness was winning its bid for Ellie’s soul.
And now the sweet baby girl whose soul Lauriana had vowed to save, the daughter she’d raised in Light, was turning her back on all that her mother had taught her, lured by the beautiful illusion of the Fey.
Lauriana wanted to weep and scream and snatch her precious child out of harm’s way, but she could not. King Dorian had declared Ellysetta to be the Fey king’s bride, and there was nothing Lauriana could do about it. A woodcarver’s wife could not flout the will of one king, let alone two. She had Lillis and Lorelle to think of, too.
“Please,” she whispered, looking up at the shafts of sunlight shining in from the windows of the Solarus’s tiny dome. “Please, help me. Show me how to protect her. Give me a sign.”
But this time, the Bright Lord remained silent.
Weary and full of despair, no less troubled than when she’d begun her prayers, she exited the Solarus. Father Celinor stood near the doorway, his blue eyes gentle and compassionate.
“She’s a good girl, Madame Baristani,” he said. “I don’t think you have to worry about her losing her path among the Fey, no matter what the pamphleteers and rabble-rousers are claiming. Once tempers calm and people starting thinking again instead of reacting in fear to these dahl’reisen threats, they’ll remember that the Fey are soldiers of the Light.”
“I hope you’re right, Father,” Lauriana murmured.
He patted her hand. “Trust the Bright Lord to protect the souls in his keeping.”
She nodded with obedience but no sincerity and took her leave. Outside on the street, her doubts and fears rose up again, and she went about her errands in a cloud of despair, desperate to find a way to save Ellie but
helpless to know how to go about it. She even, gods help her, considered approaching the Brethren of Radiance, but the moment she came within sight of their wild, wailing followers, she turned and fled. Desperate she might be, but not desperate enough to trade magic for madness.
All the while, the Shadow Seer’s warning rang hauntingly in her ears: Save her, mother. Only you can save her.
When she left Maestra Binchi’s shop on Queen’s Street after finishing the final fitting of her gown for the wedding, she broke down into helpless tears. She’d just tried on the most beautiful gown she’d ever worn, custom-tailored for her by the country’s leading Maestra of fashion. It should have been one of the giddiest, most exciting experiences of her life, a prelude to the even happier event of her oldest daughter’s nuptial celebration. Instead, as she’d stood there, draped in exquisite, costly silks, all she could think was, Will I dance in silk and jewels while I send my daughter to her doom?
A familiar voice called her name, “Madame Baristani?”
She looked up, scrubbing her tears away with the palms of her hands. Selianne was standing on the sidewalk, not far from Maestra Binchi’s shop door. She carried a bag filled with parcels and was watching Lauriana with a worried expression.
“Madame Baristani, are you all right?”
“Oh, Selianne.” She began to weep again. Here was someone who shared both Lauriana’s love for Ellie and her fear of the Fey. Here was someone she could talk to, someone who would understand. “No, kitling, I don’t think I am all right.”
Selianne stepped closer and slipped a comforting arm around Lauriana’s shoulders. “Come with me, Madame Baristani.” She glanced around at the storefronts surrounding them. “There’s Narra’s tea shop. Why don’t we share a nice pot of tea, and you can tell me what’s troubling you.”
Two bells later, Lauriana knelt beside Selianne and Ellysetta at the altar in the Grand Cathedral of Light, her head bowed in prayer, sneaking glances at Greatfather Tivrest. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope.
“I think you should speak to the archbishop,” Selianne had suggested after Lauriana poured out her litany of fears in Narra’s tea shop. “He’s a sensible man, and a godly one. He’s even powerful enough in the church to challenge King Dorian to protect the souls in his care. Talk to him. Tell him everything you’ve told me. I’d be surprised if he can’t help.”
Now, looking at him as he stood at the altar, stern and strong in his faith, she knew Selianne was right.
The archbishop was no blind admirer of the Fey like Celinor, nor a wild-eyed fanatic like the Fey-hating Brethren of Radiance. He was a sensible, orthodox man, a disciplined soldier of the Light, and a noble as powerful as any in King Dorian’s court.
If any man could help her save Ellie, Greatfather Tivrest could.
He sketched the sign of the Lord of Light and intoned the final blessing of today’s devotions. “Arise, daughters,” he said when he was done, “and walk in Light.”
The three women rose, and the air of formal ceremony faded.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Selianne said, rubbing her hands together and flexing the fingers that had been clasped in prayer for most of the last bell. “Tomorrow is the Bride’s Blessing. Are you ready, Ell?”
Ellysetta nodded. “I think so.”
“Nervous?”
“A little.”
“It gets worse when it’s time for the actual wedding.”
They all laughed, including Lauriana. Ellie’s expression grew a little more solemn. “You seem to be feeling better now, Mama.”
“I am.” From the corner of her eye, Lauriana saw the archbishop turn to descend from the altar. She pressed a quick kiss on Ellie’s cheek, then Selianne’s. “You girls run on. I’m just going to have a word with Greatfather Tivrest.” She hurried towards him. “Your Grace? Can you spare a moment, please?”
“I wonder what that’s about,” Ellysetta murmured to Selianne.
Her friend shrugged. “Wedding stuff, most likely. I’d better be going. Gerwyn’s out of town, so Mama’s watching the children.”
“Still? He’s been gone for days.”
Selianne nodded glumly. “I know. I miss him terribly.”
Ellysetta felt the tingle of magic as the Fey tore down the barriers around the isle, then a familiar rush of emotion and power. What was Rain doing here? He’d always waited until she returned home before he collected her for their daily courtship bells. “Sel, Rain’s here.”
Poor Selianne looked as if someone had jabbed her with a knife. “I, uh…I think I’ll go out the back.” She turned and fled.
Ellysetta watched her disappear. She supposed it was a good thing, after all, that Selianne wasn’t going to attend the wedding. It wouldn’t look good to have her Honoria faint from fear of the groom during the ceremony. Of course, it would look even worse to have the groom murder the Honoria because he read her mind and discovered she was part Eld. At least, she and her best friend had been able to share this much—and thank the Bright Lord that Rain’s dire predictions about the Mages consuming Selianne’s soul had not come true.
She gave a quick, fanning wave, marshaled her thoughts, and hurried out of the cathedral into the bright sunlight where Rain stood waiting on the manicured lawn.
“Did you miss me so much?” she asked, a teasing smile on her face.
“Have I been such a poor suitor that you must ask?” His teeth flashed in a smoldering smile, and his voice lowered to a throaty purr. “I shall endeavor to do better.”
Oh, my. She knew that look, that tone. Her cheeks flushed scarlet.
He laughed softly and moved close so that his body almost touched hers, but didn’t; energy zinged between them all the same. Teasing her.
Her eyes narrowed. Two could play that game. He’d even taught her how. Mindful of being in a public place, she didn’t use her hands. She just closed her eyes, concentrated, and sent her essence rolling over in him in pulsating waves. His breath hissed on a sharp intake, and she smiled in satisfaction as she felt the rewarding stun to his senses.
When he caught his breath, he regarded her with glowing, half-closed eyes. “If I’m very, very good, shei’tani, will you do that again when we’re alone?”
She laughed. Without a care for their public location or the worshipers walking past them, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.
The teasing passion in his eyes softened to a different, more tender emotion, one that made her heart skip a beat. His hand trailed down the side of her face, brushing back spiraling tendrils of hair. “Come, shei’tani, dance the skies with your mate.”
He didn’t escort her outside beyond the city walls as he usually did. Instead, he Changed right there on the cathedral lawn, much to the outrage of the priests who saw him. Ellysetta barely noticed. She settled into place on Rain’s back and together they sprang into the sky.
“You see what I mean, Your Grace?” Lauriana pointed out the window at the disappearing shadow of the Fey king’s tairen form. “He calls his magic right here, on holy ground, with no respect for our beliefs or our ways. He’s encouraging Ellie to try magic as well. I’m sure of it. She’s so in love with him, she’ll do anything to please him. I fear that in time she’d even turn her back on the Bright Path if he asked it of her.”
Greatfather Tivrest turned away from the window and paced across his private office, his brows drawn together in an expression that was half scowl, half thoughtful deliberation. “It is perhaps providential, Madame Baristani, that you came to me today to discuss your fears.” He glanced up, apparently having come to some sort of decision. “Will you follow me, please?”
He lit an oil lamp from his desk and led her to a small, windowless room adjoining his office. Long velvet drapes hung from floor to ceiling to ward off the chill of the ancient stone walls, and a small altar sat in one corner, its stone surface cluttered with dozens of red candles. The room still smelled of smoke and sago flowers as if someon
e had been burning those altar candles only recently.
Moving to the left wall, he parted the drapes to reveal a small metal door that he proceeded to unlock with a key he pulled from a pocket inside his robes. The door swung inward, opening to a narrow, curving stone stairway. A dim glow of light shone up from the darkness below
“You are not the first to approach me this morning concerned about the safety of your daughter’s soul,” he said as they descended. “Three brothers from the north came to see me as well.” The stairs opened up to a small room furnished with a simple wooden table and chairs. The room’s occupants—three men in scarlet robes—rose to their feet and turned to greet them as Lauriana and the archbishop entered.
“This,” Greatfather Tivrest said, indicating the older of the two, “is Father Lucial Bellamy, head of the Order of Adelis. And this”—he gestured to the younger, white-haired priest at his side—“is Father Nivane, one of the brothers in his service. And the father standing in the shadows over there is Father Brevard.” Father Brevard did not move from the shadows, nor remove the hood concealing his face.
Lauriana had never met any of the three men before, but even without the Greatfather’s mention of their Order, the first glimpse of their scarlet robes had told her who—or rather what—they were.
Exorcists.
CHAPTER TEN
“No.” Lauriana’s feet began to move of their own volition, backing away from the men in their bloodred robes.
“Father Bellamy heard of your daughter’s betrothal to the Tairen Soul,” the archbishop said. “He came here to Celieria City as soon as he received the news. He says her name is not unfamiliar to his Order.”
Lauriana’s frightened gaze darted from one priest to the other. “I—” Her throat tightened, choking off her voice. Her knees went weak, and she reached out to grab the wall for support.