by Kate Jacoby
“Which you do every second night. ..”
“Which I do every second night,” Patric continued without missing a beat, “but this night, I had a bizarre dream. I saw you standing on a rock overlooking a golden desert. In front of you was a horde of the ungodlies, armed to the teeth. But they weren’t attacking or anything—they were just standing there, looking up at you. You stood there with your hands on your hips, shaking your head. Then you said, ”Well, if you’re going to be like that, I may as well go home.“”
Robert burst out laughing. “Where on earth did that come from? And you believed it? You saw it as a sign that I was coming home? By the gods, six weeks ago I hadn’t even thought about coming back.”
“Oh really?” Patric eyed him without humour. “Then I suppose it was just a coincidence.”
Robert held up his hands in appeal. “Oh, please, don’t start that again.”
“And I suppose it was just a coincidence you happened to be in the right place at the right time to help this strange girl get away from the Guilde? And yet another coincidence that she happens to develop powers the moment someone is in danger? And an even bigger coincidence that she split your ayarn when you were only hours from the Enclave?”
“What do you know of it?”
Patric shrugged and folded his arms. “I went and had a chat with Micah at the healer’s while you were closeted with Ayn. I thought I’d save you the trouble of telling the story a second time. The girl was with him. She didn’t have much to say for herself but that’s not surprising, really. I should point out, Robert, that your arrival with her in tow has caused quite an uproar around here. My advice is to stick around until spring while they sort her out. Besides, you and I have some work to catch up on. I’ve discovered some interesting literature on the legend of the Word of Destruction written by Amar Thraxis. You have no idea how many books remain from the devastated library, and hardly anyone ever looks at them any more. Mainly because they don’t give up instant answers to immediate problems. They’re all hooked on trusting the Key. It’s such a waste. I could show you now if you like. It’s quite amazing ...”
“Slow down, Pat,” Robert placed his cup on the floor. “I can’t afford to stay any more than a couple of days. Long enough for the Council to have a good think about Jenn. Whether she decides to stay here is her choice but I have to go home. I’ll attend the Gathering only because I’m here anyway, but don’t start getting ideas. If you want to catch up on work, my friend, then I suggest you try fulfilling your promise and come with me to Dunlorn.”
Patric was silent for a while, his eyes fixed on the cup in his hands. Then he said quietly, “They won’t leave you alone, you know. Selar, Vaughn or the Enclave. They’ll never give up until they’ve squeezed the last drop of blood out of you. The Enclave has never forgotten the first day you came here and they’re determined one day to get to the truth. If you really want to avoid that kind of involvement then I suggest you go now, while you still can. Go and leave Lusara for ever because, my friend, the time will come when you no longer have a choice.”
Jenn sat in a quiet corner, content to watch the casual comings and goings of people through the great cavern.
Beside her, Micah leaned back against the limestone wall, slowly making his way to the bottom of a mug of nutty brown ale.
She took in a tired breath and murmured, “So if all these people are sorcerers—or most of them—what do they do here? Sorcery?”
“Many things. There are those who work to keep the community going and there are others who are engaged in studies about sorcery and its history. For all that sorcery is feared and considered heresy by outsiders, sorcerers themselves are limited in what they can do. Most of them here believe they are capable of much more. Their studies are aimed at learning about their powers. They also strive to find the fabled Calyx, which is said to hold all the answers.”
“What’s a Calyx?”
“I’m told it dates back to the Dawn of Ages, when the first sorcerers walked the land. There are two books which mention its existence and what it can do, but no one here has ever seen it, nor even knows what it looks like. It is said it was lost before the battle with the empire, but Master Patric isn’t convinced. A lot of his work is involved in finding the Calyx.”
“And Finnlay?”
“He’s been obsessed with finding it from the moment he joined the Enclave. A lot of his journeys away from Dunlorn have been to search for other books, references, following any little trace he finds. It’s never far from his thoughts.”
“And that’s why he wants Robert to Stand the Circle? So he can help?”
Micah nodded. “There’s a whole wealth of lore belonging to these people, but a lot of it was lost in the fire. What they have now has been pieced together over five centuries. Really you would be far better off asking my master these questions. He knows all about it. He’s been studying it for years, along with Master Patric. Between them I think they probably know more about the history of sorcerers than anyone else here.”
Jenn nodded and glanced again at the door opposite. The cave ceiling came down in a rough curve and was met by a line of oak panelling going the length of the cavern. It was unusual in that it was the only room she had seen so far which had something so decorative. The door stood in the middle of the panelling, richly carved with images she could barely see in the candlelight. On the other side of that door, Robert and the Enclave council were talking about her—and had been for over an hour.
She sighed. It was pointless wondering about what would happen next, but that didn’t stop her chewing it over like a piece of tough beef. She couldn’t help it. The last few days had long surpassed her wildest nightmares. Glancing up at the man beside her, she said, “Micah, is it just me, or does this whole situation look unusually peculiar to you?”
Micah let his back slide down the wall until he was sitting on the bench seat beside her. “No, it’s not just you. It is unusually peculiar.”
Jenn laughed. “Oh, good. I feel much better now. Now I know I’m not really crazy, but in a lot of trouble instead.”
“Well, in the immortal words of my master, things could be worse.”
She looked sideways at him for further clarification.
“It could be snowing,” he finished, deadpan.
“And that makes a big difference?”
“Certainly does. Can you imagine the mess it would make in here?” He shook his head as she laughed. “Besides, you’re not in trouble. They just don’t quite know what to make of you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It happens from time to time. I believe they had a similar problem with my master. Of course, I wasn’t around at the time but apparently there was some considerable consternation over how much more powerful he was compared to everyone else. For a while there, they thought things had taken a leap forward.”
“But?”
“Well,” Micah replied seriously, “in some ways he works with these people, but the truth is he’s not really a member of the Enclave. He’s never fully committed himself, never sworn the oath—that’s part of why Finnlay argues with him so much.”
Jenn sighed. “I don’t know. This is all so confusing. I’ll never understand it all.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Micah said, and drained his mug. “You have plenty of time to get used to your powers—if you choose to use them again. And then you can decide whether to stay and work here or continue on to wherever you want to go.”
“But if I...” but she never got to finish the sentence. At that moment, the door opposite opened and Robert waved them inside.
His gesture was simple, but for some reason the movement sent an uncomfortable tingle up her back. With Micah a step behind, she walked to the door. Inside the room was a long table around which were seated a dozen faces she’d not seen before and three she had, Finnlay, Robert’s friend Patric and Ayn. All of them were turned to watch her arrival. Behind them, the walls were covered with painti
ngs, richly coloured and undimmed with time. She wanted to pause and examine them, trace the detail with her hands, but the faces around the table were too compelling.
Robert closed the door behind Micah and moved to the head of the table.
“This is Jenn,” he said by way of introduction.
Jenn tried to study each of these people as they turned to study her, but the tingling in her back was worse now that she’d moved. It nagged at her attention, demanding she stretch to be rid of it.
“We’ve been told of your extraordinary effort at the bridge,” an old man to her left began. “It was a most courageous act.”
Feeling the intense scrutiny of those around the table, Jenn shifted from one foot to the other, hardly able to frame a thought, let alone a response.
“Can you tell us how you did it—or what made you think of it in the first place?”
“I...” Jenn began, trying to shake off the distraction which was now working its way up her neck, “I didn’t really think about it at all. I only thought about Micah.”
A murmur arose as glances between the strangers were exchanged.
“But did you feel the power as you pushed the bridge back?” A man on the opposite side of the table asked.
Like a finger touching the crown of her head, pain erupted in her skull. She reached for the empty seat in front of her and sank into it. “I felt ... nothing ... except—” she gasped and closed her eyes.
“Enough!” Robert moved quickly to her side, placing a hand on the back of her chair. “I warned you this wouldn’t work—now stop it!”
The pain gradually subsided to a dull throb, although her back still tingled. Slowly she breathed deeply, eventually opening her eyes.
“I said he would interfere, Ayn, but you assured me otherwise,” the man to Jenn’s left grumbled.
“Oh, be quiet, Wilf. Can’t you see the child’s in pain?” Ayn rose from her seat. “Robert’s right. We can’t force anything from her.”
A cup of wine was placed in Jenn’s hands and she looked up to find Robert’s apologetic face gazing down at her. She swallowed a mouthful and tried not to look at the others. What had they been doing to her? Why didn’t they say...
“This is ridiculous,” Wilf slapped his hand on the table. “How can we find out anything about her potential with this ... renegade standing watch over her?”
Robert straightened up and favoured the old man with a smile. “Well, I can always leave—but I’m afraid I’d have to take Jenn with me. She is, as my brother has so rightly pointed out, my responsibility.”
“Oh, really!” Wilf sat back.
“I told you to be quiet, Wilf, and I meant it. Robert is here at our invitation. If you think he won’t carry out his promise then I must assume you’ve forgotten that he never makes empty threats.” Ayn reached Robert’s side and, with a calm smile in his direction, she continued, “We’re faced with something we don’t understand—and a child who is probably terrified by these bullying tactics—not to mention a situation she knows nothing about. May I suggest we try talking to her?”
There were a few quietly smug faces around the table at that. Then another man leaned forward and said, “What about your ayarn, Robert? You said it split when she touched it.”
“Can you please,” Jenn said suddenly, wondering where the words were coming from, “stop talking about me as though I was not here.” The pounding in her head still threatened to overwhelm her and it was only a determined effort that kept her from crying out. The insistence of these people was so irritating! But there was the comfort of Micah standing behind her—and Robert’s imposing presence. Yes, she would happily answer all of their questions, but please, just let the pain stop.
There was a rustle of cloth and the scraping of a chair on the stone floor as the man rose to his feet. “I apologize, Jenn. I did not intend to be rude.”
Beside her, Jenn could sense rather than hear Robert’s soft laughter. Starting afresh, he answered the original question. “Aye, Henry, the stone was split clean in two.”
“May we see it?”
As Robert reached inside his shirt for the stone, Jenn went to take another mouthful of wine but stopped with the cup halfway to her mouth as a strange ringing seemed to fill the room. She glanced furtively at the others but they were either accustomed to it—or hadn’t heard it. Her eyes stopped on Robert, or rather, on the stone in his hand. As it came free of the cloth, the ringing grew louder and louder until the crash and tumble of a thousand church bells filled her mind. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from the stone. She could hear voices, but they were far away and she couldn’t really understand the words. All she knew was the stone and the bells, the tingling in her back and the pain in her head.
On and on it went as the stone was held up for the others to see, then placed on the table before her. Still she couldn’t take her eyes from it. It drew her gaze like a beacon in the night, narrowing down until her entire world was encompassed by that single river stone, smooth, washed and split in two. Then a hand—her own hand—reached out and grasped hold of the two pieces, her fingers tightening around the stone as though they had a will of their own.
Suddenly she felt trapped, like a caged animal, the touch of cold steel and brooding stone against her cheek. The pounding suddenly clarified and became the sound of a galloping horse while around her was the scent of damp moss and rotting leaves, then—
Silence. The ringing bells had gone, the pressure, the pain all vanished. Suspended in time, she breathed cool fresh air. She let it fill her lungs with new vitality, stretching to every fibre of her body. Her head was clear, crisp and sharp.
She opened her eyes.
Robert was kneeling beside her, his eyes fixed on her face. She met his gaze and for a moment—just a split second—she felt she could almost read his thoughts, almost see deep into those dark green eyes. Then she looked down at her hand and mumbled, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have touched it but...”
She opened her palm and held up the ayarn, solid and whole once more.
The room exploded in uproar. Councillors stood and rushed forward, but Robert held up his hand, silencing them all. Then, very carefully, he reached out for the stone, but as his fingers came close to it, the stone gave out a tiny, almost invisible flash of light which died as quickly as it had lived.
The stone dropped into his hand and as she let go of it, Jenn felt incredibly tired. She tried to stand but her legs had lost their will. Dizzy and sick, she stumbled and would have fallen, but Micah caught her. He lifted her in his arms and then her eyes closed and she lost herself to oblivion.
Robert stood in the doorway of Ayn’s bedroom while Finnlay hovered behind. Patric and Micah waited in the next room. Ayn, leaning on her walking stick, settled the covers around Jenn’s neck. Then, with a gentle hand on the girl’s forehead, she turned and shepherded them out, closing the door behind her.
“She’s almost asleep.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Robert asked, afraid to trust to so simple an explanation.
“Robert,” Ayn said wearily, “I’m a Healer, trust me—Jenn is fine.”
He waited for her to sink into the comfort of a padded chair, then said, “I’m sorry.”
“What for? For bringing her here? Those old fools haven’t had so much fun since the day I brought you into the hall and the Key spoke to you in front of them all! Things do get a little dull around here sometimes, you know.”
Robert perched on a stool and clasped his hands together. “Yes, I suppose you’re right—and things could be worse.”
“Please,” Micah raised both hands in appeal, “don’t say that again.”
Laughing softly, Robert nodded submission.
Finnlay had hardly moved from the bedroom door, but now he took a few steps forward to a seat opposite Robert. “So what did she do? How did she put your ayarn back together?”
“I don’t know. I mean, how did she split it in the first place? I
f we knew that, we’d be halfway to understanding.”
Patric leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. “Well, since she obviously doesn’t need an ayarn as we do, then perhaps she has some kind of antipathy towards it. Then again, that doesn’t explain her putting it back together again. Robert, have you tested it? Does it still work the way it used to?”
Robert briefly closed his eyes and sent his senses out through the door and into the tunnels of the Enclave. Here and there he caught familiar auras. After a few seconds he returned, and opening his eyes again, said, “Yes, perfectly.”
Ayn was staring at him with a frozen expression, but it was Patric who spoke. “You can do that? Without even taking your ayarn out?”
“Come on, Patric, don’t digress,” Robert shook his head. “We were talking about Jenn. Whatever she did to my ayarn seems to have had no effect on it.”
With a huge sigh, Patric shook his head, “Then we’re back where we started.”
“I just want to know one thing,” Finnlay held up his hands and sat forward, his gaze intent on Robert. “What are you going to do now?”
“Do?” Robert passed a weary hand over his forehead. He could be wrong, but he had a sneaking suspicion another argument was brewing. But this time he was not in the mood.
“About Jenn.”
“I’m sorry, Finn, but I don’t understand the question. Are you under the impression that there is something I should do?”
“Oh, for Mineah’s sake, Robert! I’m asking if you still intend to take her to some town in the middle of nowhere.”
Robert looked up at Finnlay. For some reason, he suddenly felt very cold. Not his flesh—his body—but inside. Deep inside. “Yes, if that’s what she wants.”