EXILE'S RETURN

by Kate Jacoby

  “Perhaps some are,” Patric murmured, the words tumbling forward without thought. “Or rather, only those sorcerers with House Marks. I think you and Jenn are Bonded.”

  Robert froze. His eyes grew flinty, his breathing was silent. Only the flickering oil lamp showed any signs of movement.

  In the silence, Patric gathered his courage together and put forward his evidence. “Let’s look at it objectively. You help this girl out, save her from the Guilde. Next thing, it turns out she’s got talents. Before you can blink an eye, she’s split your ayarn then, just as you’re trying to work out what it all means, she puts the ayarn back together. Something happened there, Robert. Something important. Now you tell me she’s still growing in power and I suspect, doing things you aren’t even telling me about. Even Finnlay noticed some deeper level of communication between you and Jenn. I’ve only just seen it, the pattern going through all this. That business with your ayarn set and completed the Bonding, just as though it had been a proper ritual. You both have House Marks, you’re the two most powerful sorcerers in the land—you have to be Bonded.”

  As Robert’s face grew dark, Finnlay moved forward, suddenly nervous. He raised his hand. “Patric, I don’t think you should...”

  “No,” Robert murmured, coming forward slowly, “I don’t think you should continue either.”

  “But you can’t close your eyes to the truth, Robert. Can all this be a coincidence? You said her powers are growing. Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Anything that would prove that I’m wrong? Please, go ahead. You know how I love to be set straight.”

  “Patric!” Finnlay snapped, “stop it. That’s enough.”

  “More than enough.” Robert met Patric’s gaze for a long time, but there was no menace there. Only something deeper, like sorrow, but Patric couldn’t be sure.

  Robert picked up the silver rod and tucked it in his belt. His voice heavy and weary, he said, “I was right: you spend too much time buried in your books. You know nothing about life outside, and so everything seems to have these neat little patterns to them—patterns you love to create. We know almost nothing about Bonding. ‘Setting’? ‘Completing’? How would you know? What if I hadn’t been there when she came through that forest? What if we’d never met? What if it had been Finnlay who’d tried Sealing her? How can Bonding still work under these kinds of conditions, and what’s the point of it anyway—especially after all these years? There is no history of sorcery in either my family or Jenn’s. How can the Marks and sorcery possibly be connected? I tell you, Patric, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Patric took in a swift breath and moved closer to Robert, more certain now than ever before. “I may not know, Robert, but you do.”

  Robert’s head jerked up—then Finnlay stepped between them. “Patric, I told you that was enough. Leave it alone.”

  “Why are you protecting him?”

  “Because he’s my brother, Patric,” Finnlay replied with half a smile. He turned back to Robert then, the smile gone. “The council is waiting for you. They want to talk to you.”

  “Good,” Robert nodded, the shadow in his eyes suddenly gone, “I want to talk to them, too. But first, I’m going for a walk. You can tell them I’ll be down soon.”

  It was night. Patric hadn’t said anything about it being dark outside, so by the awesome display of stars visible from the mountain top took Robert by surprise. He stopped in the middle of the field and tipped his head back as far as he could, just to see it all in one go. The sight was breathtaking. The air was so clear and crisp, so much better for thinking than that inside the caves.

  It all seemed to revolve around Jenn, didn’t it? The abductions, the mindspeech, the strange presence at court: everything. An odd fate for a girl who’d grown up far from here, knowing nothing of this world.

  And now there was Patric. Bonding.

  By the gods, no!

  It was impossible that he and Jenn . . . that it could happen twice. And the last time Berenice .. . he’d killed her. And if he and Jenn were Bonded then would he kill her too? And all because the Key had said .. . that...

  But Finnlay had said Robert had only assumed it was supposed to be Berenice. Hadn’t Finn said that the Key might have meant someone else?

  Damn! The Key. Those two messages, dual curses, doubly damned. And why? So he could live his life alone, for ever controlling the demon within? The demon the Key had given him?

  And why did the Key hate him so much, why did it want to manipulate him and force him to do its bidding?

  Serin’s blood, what did the Key want from him?

  Gasping for air, Robert sank to his knees, buried his hands in the dew-covered grass. It was soft and cool, like fine-ground flour. He wanted to lie in it, like a child, to drown in that comfort just like that dream of the sea.

  He shouldn’t keep asking why. There was no point. He would never get any answers without asking the Key—and he refused to approach it again. It would only inflict more damage, tell him more things he didn’t want to know, manipulate him again, impair his resolve to stay uninvolved...

  And how uninvolved was he, really? The truth was, he was still in the middle of it, despite his efforts. No wonder they all refused to believe him, to leave him alone. And after what Jenn had said about needing to act?

  Yes, it all came back to her, and Patric had been right about so many things. Was he right about this?

  It didn’t matter. The Key had started all this, but just as he had all his life, Robert would resist it with his last breath. Just as he’d resisted the demon. It was the only way forward he had. The only way to defy the future the Key had given him. He had to stay uninvolved. He had to stay away from Jenn. More to the point, he had to keep her away from the Key. It was the only way to keep her safe.

  Robert closed his eyes against the beautiful sky and shut it all out. He took a deep breath, and then another. He got to his feet, but felt no desire to go back and face the council. It was obvious what they wanted, and even more obvious what they would do. He would have to brace himself, put on that public face, once again be the man they all knew. He had no appetite for it, but standing out here in the chill air wasn’t going to help.

  He turned for the tunnel, then paused. Perhaps this was a good time to try. Now, when there was no interruption, and where no one would see him.

  He focused his mind clearly and precisely. Then, feeling new levels of energy course through his body, he sent out a single, silent word.

  Jenny?

  Nothing. It was too far. He couldn’t do it—but he had to. He had to make sure everything had worked out.

  Again he focused his thoughts, drew in his breath. Tightly now, he unleashed the thought, pushing it every league of the distance between them. He called her name. Again there was nothing ... then suddenly—

  Robert? By the gods, where are you? I thought you were going to the Enclave!

  I’m standing on top of the Goleth right now. I had a quiet moment and thought I’d try. The distance is hard to push through, but it does work. I just wanted to tell you we made it safely. I’m about to go and speak to the council, but they already know the gist of what happened from Finnlay.

  And your injuries?

  All healed. Have you had any trouble? Did your father believe the story?

  Yes. He was angry that I went with you but I expected that. But, I have to warn you. We’ve had the Guilde here, asking questions. They’ve sent Osbert down to Kilphedir to investigate and...

  What?

  They’re looking for a boy who was caught in the grounds of the prison.

  Hell!

  They don’t know it was me—but, Robert, you must be careful! Once they finish in the village, they’ll be on their way to Dunlorn to question you. You have to get back quickly. If they find you still haven’t returned they’ll assume the worst.

  I’ll leave in the morning.

  I wrote to your mother and Micah but I hope you tell them
both the truth when you get back.

  I’ll tell Micah the truth, but I can only afford to tell her Finn’s alive. It’s just not safe any more. Listen ...

  What?

  I’m afraid I won’t be coming back—not for a long time. Perhaps never.

  Silence.

  Jenny?

  I’m here. Why?

  I can’t explain. I’m sorry.

  Silence again. Jenny? What’s wrong?

  Nothing. You do what you have to do and don’t worry about me. I’ll survive—I always do. Take care, Robert. And just like that she was gone.

  If this wasn’t Bonding, why did he suddenly feel so empty?

  A single drop of wax tipped over the brim of the candle and slithered down the side, finally hardening on the pewter holder. It joined the yellow mess along the decorated rim standing testament to the long hours of discussion. Finnlay was mesmerized by the candle, watching every tiny movement of the flame as it danced and flickered with the currents of the air. Beside him he could hear the hum of murmured conversation, but after two hours of waiting for Robert, Finnlay found his attention drifting.

  The council chamber was only half full now as many of the others had gone to bed. Besides Ayn, Wilf and Henry, Arlie Baldwyn, Patric and Acelin were still there, content to wait as long as necessary. Finnlay had endured their questions, their probing for answers he could only guess at. Robert would come soon, yes. He’d speak to the council—and then he would leave and return to Dunlorn. It was a luxury Finnlay would never have again.

  A pang of regret and despair ran through him and he struggled against the bitterness which threatened to consume him. If only Robert had not fallen, if only they’d not seen his ring, if only he’d never found that damned manuscript in the first place . . .

  And his ayarn. That too was lost. Well, he could always make another one, although he’d have to recover a little energy before he did. But the ring—his family ring—was gone for ever. Irreplaceable .. . and probably now in the hands of the Guilde. The only real evidence they had with which to damn him.

  He could go on and on, but in the end, what difference would it make? He’d always known the danger of being a sorcerer, always been wholly aware of what would happen if he were ever found out. Somehow, however, he’d always assumed that if anyone would be discovered, it would be Robert, rather than himself. It was strange how life worked its way through you.

  The candle flame abruptly jerked and trembled as the door behind Finnlay swung open. He turned to see Robert standing there, his white shirt billowing around his arms. From the end of the room, Ayn and Wilf stood at this sudden appearance but Robert held up his hand. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I had something I had to attend to first.”

  Finnlay straightened up as Robert took a seat at the end of the table, near the fire. Robert did look better, but Finnlay knew him too well to assume that meant everything was fine. Robert was too good at masking his real feelings.

  “How are your injuries?” Henry asked as he stood to move further down the long table.

  “They’ll mend. How is it going, Wilf? Sorry you Stood the Circle yet?”

  Wilf asked sardonically, “Sorry you didn’t?”

  With a laugh, Robert placed his hands on the table before him. “What? And miss all this fun? Never! So tell me, what conclusions have you come to?”

  “Why do you insist on taking this all as one almighty joke, eh? Your brother comes that close to execution at the hands of the judges and now stands to spend the rest of his life a virtual prisoner here, and there is a real possibility that the Guilde Proctor may have some powers of his own. On top of that we have the first exposure of one of our number for almost a century—not to mention a confirmed Malachi at court. We have to make a decision about what to do. A decision which could endanger the entire Enclave. I don’t think there is anything at all amusing about any of this.”

  Robert just smiled. “Perhaps you just don’t have a sense of humour. I don’t see any need for you to do anything other than warn your people to keep their heads low for a while.”

  Wilf slammed his hand down on the table. “Damn it, Robert, I’m serious!”

  The smile vanished. “So am I. Deadly serious.”

  He paused to allow Henry time to find a seat and pour him some wine. Taking the cup, Robert leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table. With the wine raised in mock salute, he smiled again. “You can’t make a decision about something you know nothing about. It’s foolish. And don’t think I say that lightly—with my brother now a permanent resident here, I have a vested interest in keeping him safe. He is, if nothing else, my sole heir and unless I decide otherwise, he will remain so. It doesn’t matter that he’s officially dead. When you’re secluded up here as you are, away from real life down in the valleys, it’s easy for you to forget that there are other considerations to be taken into account.”

  Henry leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I don’t see what this has to do with the matter at hand. What difference does Finnlay’s status make?”

  Robert shrugged. “Quite a bit—to me. I’m merely stating my reasons for objecting to your imminent decision.”

  “Oh?” Wilf’s face creased in anger. “And you know what that decision is, do you?”

  “Certainly I do. You’re curious about the presence Jenn felt at court. You intend to send someone to Marsay to find out who it is, what their intentions are and, assuming our mystery man is not Vaughn himself, ask them to join you. You want to find out if this Malachi Valena has any real influence on the King and whether the split in the church will herald a softening of the official stance against sorcery. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Nobody did. Instead, looks were exchanged, glances avoided. Anything in fact, other than a response. Finnlay tried to gauge what they were thinking, but it was impossible. Fortunately, Patric was keeping quiet.

  Henry leaned forward on his elbow, his voice level and sincere. “I don’t want to reopen the old argument, Robert, but you must understand our position here. For almost five hundred years the Enclave has survived against all opposition, sometimes from within, but mostly from without. We have come very close at times to actual discovery, and our current measures are a product of that constant danger. We’ve worked hard over the centuries to break through the morass of ignorance our heritage has left us, but still we fail. All along we believed that one day we would see a sorcerer who would be able to unlock the secrets of the Key and perhaps eventually teach us enough to release us from this prison. It is the one hope that continues to bind us all together—a hope, I might add, that would free your brother along with the rest of us.”

  He paused and took a breath, folding his hands together. “From the first day you came here, most of us believed you were that sorcerer, but you have always refused to join us. We now understand from Finnlay that the Key told you never to Stand the Circle. We are flexible, we can change direction. If there is the slightest possibility that there’s a sorcerer at court who is powerful enough to shield himself from even your powers so that you were unaware of his existence, then we have a moral obligation to find him. Even if it is Vaughn.”

  “Actually,” Robert murmured with a glance at Finnlay, “to be honest, the Key said nothing about the Circle to me all those years ago. I know you all think I’ve been lying about it—after what my brother told you, I don’t blame you. But the truth is as I have always maintained. The Key’s message to me was entirely private and has nothing whatsoever to do with the Enclave. I will even go so far as to accept the possibility that I was indeed supposed to Stand the Circle—who knows? What I do know is that if you send someone to court to seek out this stranger you will place the Enclave—and everyone in it—in extreme danger. You don’t know what you’re dealing with, and by the time you find out it could be very much too late.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Wilf snapped, his patience finally at an end. “Have you any idea how ridiculous this all sounds? If you beli
eved you were supposed to Stand the Circle why in the name of the gods didn’t you do so before? Oh, yes, I remember—it was to protect your precious independence! Well, where has that independence got you, eh? Where? And are you now just waiting for me to die so you can take my place? How dare you come here and tell us what decisions we should or should not make. You gave up the right to have a say in matters here when you refused to take Marcus’s place. Oh, I know what you would have us do: we should sit here and do nothing and continue to pine after the great Earl of Dunlorn, wishing he could be persuaded to take on his destiny; to finally take his place among sorcerers. Go on, Robert, deny it!”

  “Just wait a moment.” Finnlay raised both hands, not daring to look at his brother for fear of what he might see. Something had only just occurred to him. Something important. “There is a possibility that I may have overestimated what the Key said to me that day.”

  “What?” Wilf demanded, annoyed at the way his tirade had been interrupted. “What are you talking about now?”

  “Just listen,” Finnlay replied, doing his best to emulate Henry’s earlier tone of reason. “I was angry with Robert over his refusal to Stand the Circle and when I heard those words coming from the Key I may just have applied my own meaning to them. Now that I think back on it, I may have misunderstood.”

  Beside him, Robert leaned forward and held his gaze. “What, exactly, did the Key say to you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Finnlay quoted, “”Plague not Robert of Dunlorn to Stand the Circle. His place is elsewhere and he has been forbidden to take any path other than his own. His destiny is written and that is the only salvation you will ever have from him. Leave him to that.“”