EXILE'S RETURN

by Kate Jacoby

  Robert held up his hands to calm her. “You know I had to bring you here—for your own sake, no one else’s. But if you want to leave, we’ll do so—right now. Just drop the flames.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll kill yourself, me and everybody within a hundred paces if you try to keep this up much longer. There’s a lot you don’t understand about sorcery, so you’ll have to take my word.”

  Her eyes were bright and burning. “Trust you? Can I trust you? Will you tell me what a House Mark is?”

  “Of course. I’ll tell you anything you like. Just put the flames out first.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Tell me first. What is a House Mark?”

  “All right,” he nodded slowly. “Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t heard about them before, but I guess it’s possible. You know the twenty-three major Houses in the country, those families whose ancestry goes back to the old empire and beyond? Every one has a birthmark, significant to their House. Every child born in the direct line has one, with their own individual variation, but still clearly that of their House. The House Mark is always on the left shoulder, small and there from birth. This is what I am told you have.”

  “But how can I have one of those? My father was an innkeeper.”

  “We’ll have to investigate that later but right now . ..”

  She shook her head again, “No. I don’t believe you. I have a birthmark, yes, but it’s not anything like that.”

  “How do you know? Look, I promise you, I’m telling you the truth. I have a House Mark myself, so does Finnlay.”

  “Show me.”

  Robert unlaced the collar of his white shirt and pulled the cloth back to reveal his shoulder. There beside an old battle scar was a mark, a triangle split with a double bar from top to bottom. “That’s the Mark of Dunlorn,” he said quietly, his eyes on hers. “I am telling you the truth. Please drop the fire. I promise I’ll protect you.”

  She was silent a moment, then she nodded mutely. Suddenly a breath of fresh cool air wafted through the room and Robert realized the wall of flame blocking the door had gone. He turned quickly back to Jenn, half-expecting her to collapse again but she kept her steady gaze on him.

  “I’m fine and—I’m sorry.”

  Not taking his eyes from hers, he nodded, “That’s all right.”

  Seconds later Ayn and the others rushed into the room.

  Micah lifted the earthenware jug of wine and moved around the room filling the goblets with rich, spicy mead. Jenn, seated on a chair by the fire, watched him move carefully and discreetly from Ayn to Finnlay and Henry, to Wilf, Patric and Robert. She noticed the way the candlelight flickered across his freckled face, making his red hair a burnished gold. For all his sombre expression, Jenn got the impression that he was not deeply concerned over all that had happened, as though his belief ran so deep that he just knew it would all work out for the best. It was not the first time she had found his calm comforting.

  Robert resumed his seat beside her and glanced at her with reassurance. He’d not left her side since she had dropped the wall of flames that morning, but she couldn’t tell whether it was from concern for her welfare or for fear of her doing it again.

  Right now she just didn’t care. She was angry. Not just with these strangers, but also with herself. In all her life she had never felt fear strong enough to control her actions. But this morning, with those people ... and what they had said ... The worst part of it was, she really couldn’t work out what they’d said that had frightened her so.

  She never liked to admit she was scared, and had never done so aloud. She doubted she ever would—because it would be like giving up. Not just the situation, but a part of herself would be lost if she ever admitted to anybody that she was afraid. It was part of her shield, her armour against the world. Jenn is never scared, people said, and strangely enough, the less she showed fear, the less she thought about it, the less she felt it.

  For a moment, Jenn closed her eyes and wished herself back home. Back in the taproom of Father’s inn. The noises, the smell, the heat. So comforting, so familiar. The greatest danger was a fight breaking out and tables being broken. Father had always protected her from anything truly dangerous, so fear had never been a major part of her life. Only that day when the grey-haired man had come to visit Father, only then had she been deeply afraid—but then, she’d been only seven at the time. He’d come, talked to Father, watched Jenn. He’d stayed a week and never said a word to her, though his eyes were always on her. Jenn had hidden from him in the end until he’d left, but that dark piercing gaze remained with her to this day. It reminded her so much of the way these people looked at her.

  They were different, these sorcerers, different to normal people. At first she’d thought it was because they were sorcerers and she found herself understanding why people had always been afraid of them. Then she’d thought that perhaps it was because they lived way up here, away from normal society. But then she realized it was because they were sorcerers after all.

  And now she was truly one of them.

  Any last vestige of doubt she’d had disappeared as surely as if those flames had burned them away. So, they’d been right after all. She had moved that bridge and split the stone—and put it back together. It had been her. But why hadn’t she known? Why had it just started? What had made it happen in the first place? She’d been in difficult situations before and nothing like that had ever happened. There had even been a couple of times when she’d wished . ..

  She folded her hands on her lap and willed herself to be calm. It would not do to go losing herself again at this stage. No. Now was the time to hold on to her anger and to use it. This time she was determined to get some answers. For the moment she couldn’t decide which was worse, being caught by those Guilde soldiers—or being saved by Robert Douglas, Earl of Dunlorn. Since the former would have lost her at least an arm and the latter, it seemed, her freedom, it was a difficult choice. So she kept her eyes on the comforting presence of Micah pouring wine.

  “You all know what happened this morning,” Robert began.

  Jenn nodded absently as Micah finished and took up a place behind Robert’s chair. She turned her attention to the faces around the room. Wilf, with his creased and podgy face screwed up with what she could only assume was anger, kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind her. Henry was more subtle. His expression was one of sincerity, as though this was all just some huge misunderstanding that could be easily cleared up. Patric appeared merely interested but Ayn kept brushing her hair back from her face. Of all of them, she looked the most uncomfortable.

  Finnlay sat by the opposite wall, eyes downcast and grim. Although there was a very close resemblance between the brothers, at this moment, Finnlay looked like a complete stranger. His dark hair fell across his face, obscuring his burning brown eyes. She knew they were burning—what else would they do? Without thinking, she said, “What are you going to do now?”

  Finnlay started, assuming—correctly—that the question was meant specifically for him, but before he could answer, Henry sat forward and spoke.

  “Well that depends largely on you, my dear. On what you want to do.”

  Jenn looked at him, appreciating his kindly face, his gentle tone. “Me? How can I decide anything? And what difference would it make anyway? You’ve already decided what’s to become of me. Finnlay is determined that I stay here. He thinks he can sway his brother to leave without me and it’s not just him. Go on, deny it. Deny that you’re all thinking how much I can do for you here.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Robert trying hard to conceal a smile. In that moment, she decided. She could trust him after all. If he hadn’t tried to hide the smile, or if he’d said anything at all, it would have been different. But he hadn’t. Instead, he seemed to hold the opinion that she had the right to determine her own future—unlike these others. Perhaps that was really why he didn’t fully belong to the Enclave. Perhaps t
hat’s what he didn’t agree with.

  Henry slowly shook his head, “No, I would be a liar if I said I’d not thought about how much you could help us. You must understand, child, you have a unique talent.”

  “Unique? How?”

  Henry raised his eyebrows, offering the question to someone else. The others, however, remained silent. “Well, the power you have, we all have—is inside you. You were born with it and you will die with it. We don’t really know what it is exactly, or what makes one person have it and another not—but we do know that it’s a raw power and one that’s fuelled by your own body. If you use it too much, you’ll quickly become exhausted—beyond that, it will kill you. Believe me, it has happened. That is why we use an ayarn. It reduces the amount of energy we use, at the same time protecting us from a backlash. The stone itself is nothing special. We choose them at random—then put them through a process which bends them to our needs.”

  He paused to take a sip of wine then turned back to her. “You need to understand all this in order to appreciate how we see your abilities. You’ve performed at least four workings of enormous power without the aid of an ayarn, or a shield of any kind. You should be dead—and after this morning, us along with you.”

  There was no reproach in his voice, but Jenn held his gaze before looking away. Her eyes rested on Finnlay a moment longer, but he refused to look at her. She let him smoulder in silence. “All right, so we’re not all dead. What does that mean? Why am I so different?”

  She asked the question gravely and was a little put out when Robert chuckled quietly at her side. She turned her head and said archly, “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

  Rather than look ashamed, his smile widened. He shook his head in apology. “I’m sorry. One day, I promise you, you will understand why I laugh. For the moment though, take no notice of me.”

  There was a pause, then Henry addressed her last question. “I don’t know why you can do the things you do. Answers like that take time—and others, like why at your age you should suddenly develop powers. Normally the signs are there at a much earlier age, about five or six.”

  “You’re making the assumption,” Wilf grunted from his seat, “that she is in fact a sorcerer.”

  All eyes turned to him and he continued, “After all, we know so little about what we do. Who’s to say that she doesn’t have some other kind of power? Something we’ve never seen before.”

  “What other kind is there?” Jenn asked him directly.

  “How should I know? I’m only saying that we know just enough to know we don’t know everything.”

  “I think you’re trying to make this unnecessarily complicated,” Ayn murmured. “Don’t confuse her with any more possibilities, please.”

  Henry held up his hand to forestall the discussion digressing. “The point I’m trying to make is, that there is a lot we could learn about your powers if you were to stay here, with us. You would be a full member of the Enclave and receive all the training and education you need. You would have the opportunity to achieve your full potential—whatever that may be.”

  Jenn couldn’t miss the way Robert stiffened at this proposal. He kept his face schooled and said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. She didn’t understand his reasons, she only knew that if she asked him, he would suggest that she not stay at the Enclave. She burned to know why, but knew she would have to wait for the right moment to ask him.

  She turned back to Henry. “I understand all that. What I don’t understand is why my having this House Mark should affect it all.”

  Silence.

  Jenn glanced at each of them, but they all found somewhere else to look. Exasperated, she turned to Robert.

  He shrugged and held out his hands to the fire. “I’m afraid I didn’t fully explain the significance to you this morning. I was anxious for your safety and I didn’t want to go into lengthy explanations. However, what I omitted to say was that—you have a House Mark for a reason. As I said, only those in the direct line of descent bear the Mark. I do, but my cousin does not, if you understand.”

  “Yes, but...”

  Patric suddenly lost his cool detachment and leaned forward, his eyes alight. “For you to have a House Mark means that you must be the daughter of the head of one of those Houses.”

  Jenn held her breath as his words sunk in. She hadn’t really thought about it much since the morning, but now she did, of course it made sense. She glanced at Finnlay again, but his face was in profile as he stared at the stone floor. There was something going on here that she didn’t know about. “Which House?” she asked simply.

  Robert took in a breath. “From the description, I’d say an eastern one, near my own. However, considering your age and the style of the Mark, I have to say I believe you are a daughter of the House of Elita. Your father is Jacob Ross, Earl of Elita.”

  Jenn’s heart began to race. “My father? But ... how can that be? Surely...”

  “How much do you remember of the Troubles?”

  “The Troubles? What has that to do with it?”

  Robert waited for her reply.

  “I don’t really remember much at all. The Houses were at war with each other. King Edward tried to restore order but he wasn’t strong enough to do much more than watch. After three years, Selar invaded. That’s all I know.” She watched him, mystified, waiting for clarification.

  Robert nodded. “Before Selar came nearly all the houses were involved in the Troubles. Feud built upon Feud. Then there is the little-known fact that raids were carried out on one House after another—raids designed not only to wreak havoc on the enemy but also to kidnap a child of each House. Preferably the heir. Those children have never been seen again.”

  Jenn shook her head slowly. “I’ve never heard that. How many were taken?”

  “Seventeen confirmed kidnappings in all. The thing is, Jenn, all those taken were boys of around the age of three or four. Only one girl was ever taken. You.”

  “But I remember growing up at Shan Moss. I remember my father as far back as I can. If I was taken the same as those others, why can I remember so much?”

  Finnlay chose this moment to enter the discussion. “Wait a moment, Robert. I don’t remember reading anything about any girl being taken. What makes you so sure she is Jacob’s daughter?”

  “Apart from the Mark on her shoulder?” Robert replied quietly. “I was at Elita the day after she disappeared.”

  “What?” Finnlay sat forward as all eyes in the room now turned to Robert, but he ignored them.

  “I was travelling through Elita lands and stopped to pay my respects to Jacob, who was a friend of my own father. What I found was a scene of tragedy. His youngest daughter had been playing by an old ruined mill. She’d wandered off on her own and was never found. The only thing her nurse could say for certain was that she heard a splash in the river by the mill. She and Jacob believed the child had fallen into the river and drowned, her body taken away by the swift water. After I’d heard this story I rode down by the river. I found the tracks of many horses. They went no further than the mill, then headed up into the hills. The tracks were fresh and in amongst them was a single child’s footprint. I tried to tell Jacob what I’d found, but he was stricken with grief. I decided I would wait. Then Selar invaded and there didn’t seem much point in telling him any more.”

  Jenn shook her head, unable to understand any of this. “So they all think I’m dead?”

  “Yes,” Finnlay mimicked, “they all think you’re dead.”

  Jenn’s eyes snapped around to meet his. At that moment she could happily have hit him, but instead she just let him see her contempt. When he finally looked away she turned back to Robert. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m still missing something. What has this got to do with whether I should stay at the Enclave or not?”

  “Well, for a start, it means you have another option. You could return to Elita. Jacob would be shocked, but he’d be delighted to have you back.”

>   Jenn frowned, but couldn’t completely take that in for the moment. “Go on.”

  But it was Wilf who spoke. “What he’s trying to avoid saying is that apart from himself and his surly brother here, you’re the only other member of a great House who is also a sorcerer. That little fact is of great significance to us.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, look around you, girl. None of us can do the things you can do—and none of us, no matter how talented, is anywhere near as powerful as Robert. I would say at a guess that once you’re trained, you two would be evenly matched—but that’s only a guess. None of us here has really seen the true extent of Robert’s powers and he keeps the facts to himself. Finnlay missed out on the greater share, so between you and Robert you could probably outdo half the Enclave put together.”

  “Really?” Jenn’s eyes widened. She’d not realized there was so much at stake. Now it all began to make sense. “So coming from a major House has something to do with sorcery?”

  Wilf laughed. “By the gods, child, if we knew that we’d be halfway to finding the Calyx.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Finnlay could hold his peace no longer. “My brother has insisted you be allowed to make the choice yourself, and no one here has the courage to gainsay him.”

  Robert sighed wearily. “Finnlay, that’s enough. If you want to fight with me that’s one thing, but don’t take your revenge out on Jenn. I won’t stand for it.”

  Finnlay stood and put his hands on his hips. His glowering face was formidable, but lacked the intensity of Robert’s level gaze. Though they looked alike, even Finnlay’s searing fury could not match the indomitable presence of his brother.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Finnlay snapped, “I don’t understand you, Robert. You refuse to be involved with anything that matters—the Enclave, your country, even the King—and yet you take the side of this girl from nowhere over an argument that’s really got nothing to do with you. You’re not doing a very good job at staying neutral.”

  Robert climbed to his feet also. “I’ve already made myself clear. I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else—one of the privileges of being neutral, as you call it. If you don’t understand my reasons, then I’m sorry—but that doesn’t change the fact that if you want to get at Jenn you have me to deal with first.”