The Storm Witch

by Violette Malan

  Their voices slowly faded, and the twin on the right began singing once more. Their faces slackened and their pink eyes unfocused.

  The Vision was gone, the Sight finished, and the Seers were children again. Xerwin chewed on his lower lip as he left the White Twins to the care of their attendants. He knew poetry when he heard it, and the extremity of what they’d said didn’t frighten him. Change was what they meant, great change. That was what Dhulyn Wolfshead was bringing. He stepped out into the main hall and checked the people waiting there, but he saw no sign of her.

  There was one change he definitely wanted, and that was to get that Storm Witch out of his sister’s body. Dhulyn Wolfshead had said she would help with that, and the White Twins had definitely seen her leading a dark-haired child by the hand. But if he told his father what he’d learned here today . . . Xerwin let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “What weighty Vision brings about such a sigh, Tar Xerwin?”

  Xerwin looked round to find Naxot at his elbow.

  “Naxot, thank the Slain God.” Xerwin took his friend by the arm and led him to an uninhabited bench near the door through which the Paledyn would have passed earlier into the inner Sanctuary. Xerwin’s own attendants would keep any others out of hearing distance.

  “The White Twins say that the Paledyn will bring changes, great changes.” He closed his hand around Naxot’s wrist. “I think she may bring Xendra back.”

  “Can she do this?”

  “Who knows? Perhaps she will persuade the Storm Witch to return to her own place.”

  “But the Storm Witch is a Holy Woman.”

  Xerwin bit down on his impatience. Naxot’s orthodoxy was becoming irritating. “And Paledyns are the Hands of the Slain God.”

  “What will you tell the Tarxin, Light of the Sun?” Naxot said.

  That is a very good question, Xerwin thought. “What if I don’t tell him anything at all?” He looked at Naxot from the corner of his eye.

  “Leave everything to the Slain God, Xerwin,” Naxot said, patting him on the shoulder. “Do nothing rash before prayer.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Xerwin said, standing up as he saw the door to the inner Sanctuary opening.

  Fifteen

  THE SANCTUARY HALL WAS NOTICEABLY darker now that the sun had set, and the great mirrors of polished silver and glass no longer had daylight to reflect. Remm Shalyn escorted Dhulyn across the wide expanse of floor, impossibly huge now that it was empty except for them.

  “I stop out here,” he said, twisting up his lips and looking around him with bright eyes. “It was you they sent for, not me,” he added to her raised eyebrow.

  “And you’ll give some thought to what we discussed?”

  “I could do more than think about it, if I ask to see the First Marks, while you’re with the Seers.” He smiled and looked over her shoulder as a middle-aged woman appeared in the Seers’ doorway. She touched her forehead to Dhulyn as they neared her, and nodded to Remm Shalyn. Remm stepped to one side, leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the door, and grinned.

  “I’ll be here when you come out, Dhulyn Wolfshead.”

  The Seers’ portion of the Sanctuary was darker than even the almost deserted main hall. This was the section of the Sanctuary farthest from the cliff face, deep into the rock that formed the city. As Dhulyn followed her guide, her Mercenary-Schooled senses automatically noted the direction of each turning. If for some reason the lighting failed, Dhulyn would have no trouble finding her way back to the entrance—or to any other spot in the city she had already been.

  “Are you Marked yourself, lady?” she asked the attendant who was guiding her.

  “Well, I am, then,” the woman said, looking back over her shoulder. “But it doesn’t go deep, my Mark. I can Heal small things—scratches, sore throats, and such. I mostly look after the little ones, and for the last while I’ve been helping with the White Twins. They don’t like change, you see, it upsets them and throws off their Visions. If they see me around them more and more, little by little, I can help with them more.”

  “Is their present attendant getting older?”

  “You’re a sharp one, then. Though, seeing as you’re a Paledyn, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Right this way, please, Tara.”

  They turned yet another corner and the light dimmed even more. The single door in front of them had raised panels, but was otherwise unadorned. The attendant noticed Dhulyn’s interest.

  “The old Seer, the one before the Twins, she was blind, they say, so you don’t see the kind of decoration we have elsewhere.”

  “And the White Twins, they do not care for decoration?”

  “Ah well, they’re children, aren’t they? Their tastes are going to run a different way. You’ll see, Tara.”

  The woman hesitated with her hand on the door latch. “You’ve been told what to expect, then, Tara? It’s not just what they look like, you see, it’s that they’re really like children, and if they’ve a Sight for you alone, well, then I have to leave you with them, you see.”

  “I have been told, yes.”

  Nodding, the woman opened the door and stepped through, saying “Here she is, then, my dear ones, the Tara Paledyn come to see you.” Dhulyn stepped forward, and heard the door shut behind her.

  The room was full of soft light, candles in glass jars and lamps with colored shades. Two women, skin so white it almost glowed, sat at the farthest of three tables, spoons in their hands, bowls of porridge in front of them.

  Even though Remm Shalyn had warned Dhulyn what to expect, her breath still faltered in her throat when she saw them. An Outlander, and a Red Horseman, Dhulyn was well used to being the palest person in any gathering, but these women made her look like a Berdanan. She had seen a horse once with the White Disease, and she knew that it happened occasionally with other animals, but to see these women, white as the finest parchment, their eyes red as coals—at first her mind simply rejected the image. She remembered what Parno had said about twins, that some could make their livings traveling with players. But these women could not have done such a thing. Like the horse Dhulyn had seen, their skin would not tan, and exposure to the sun would eventually kill them.

  They had leaped to their feet as soon as Dhulyn cleared the doorway, flinging down their spoons and rushing to her with their arms outstretched. They ran without heed across chalk drawings of stick figures and round, four-legged beasts on the floor. One had a smear of jam on her cheek. And a fleck of gold in the pink iris of her left eye. Dhulyn braced herself as they flung themselves on her, wrapping their arms around her tightly enough to make her uncomfortable.

  “Careful, careful of the blades, my hearts,” she said, working her arms free as gently as she could. The hilts of sword and daggers were digging into her hipbones, and undoubtedly into the rib cages of the women hugging her.

  “We Saw you coming,” the one said. “We Saw you. You don’t know us, but we know you, Sister. Welcome, welcome, welcome.”

  “Come, come.” They dragged her forward, not to the table that held their suppers, but to one closer to the long row of candles. “Come see our things.”

  These were the toys of princesses. Wooden dolls with articulated joints, finely dressed and with little veils covering their hair. Small wooden animals populated a farmyard made with a miniature fence and stacks of vera tiles. Dhulyn pressed her lips together and looked away from the chanter that lay to one side with other musical instruments. It was altogether too much like the one Parno attached to his pipes.

  “Very beautiful,” Dhulyn said as one of the women held up what was obviously her favorite doll. It was hard for Dhulyn to show more than courteous interest; her own childhood had been short, and she’d had little experience with children in her Mercenary’s life. She found herself hoping, as they continued to present her with their toys and precious possessions, that her smiles and exclamations were satisfying to the Twins. Oddly, she found the contrast betw
een their behavior and their apparent age less distracting than their illness.

  “We have a secret,” said the golden-eyed one in a whisper. “You need to See,” she said. “Come, we can all See together.”

  Dhulyn’s heart froze in her chest. Would they understand what it might cost her, if they told anyone else what they knew? Almost as if they had read her mind, the other Twin put her finger up to her lips. “Secret,” she mouthed, nodding her head over and over.

  Another thought struck Dhulyn, even more dreadful than the first. “Wait, wait now.” She tried to be gentle pulling back from them. “What if I don’t want to See?”

  “But why?” “But you must.” They spoke simultaneously and then looked at each other with brows drawn down.

  “I’m afraid.”

  The Twin on the left snickered and the one on the right elbowed her. “What of?”

  “I might See my Partner’s death again,” Dhulyn said simply. “And I don’t want to.”

  “But we’re together.” The girl seemed to be puzzled. “Together, we can choose.”

  “We can choose what we See, because we See together,” the other explained. The other one rolled her eyes in a manner so reminiscent of a child beginning to be impatient with an adult’s dimness that Dhulyn almost laughed.

  “Come, come.” This time they led her over to a smaller, round table which had been cleared of a great deal of chalks, pens, tiny paint brushes—and more loose vera tiles Dhulyn saw with a shiver—now lying scattered on the floor. Three chairs had been set around the table, and the Twins made her sit in one, taking the others for themselves.

  “Hands now.” Dhulyn took their hands, still sticky with the jam from their suppers.

  “Clear your mind,” said the one with the golden fleck in her eye. “Clear, clear. Clear as sky.”

  “What’s your question? Make your question clear.”

  They began to sing, a tune familiar to Dhulyn, but with words she had never heard. Not nonsense sounds, she realized, with a shiver, she had heard words like them. This was the language of the Caids. How close to the original, she wondered, could this be?

  “No, silly,” the Twin on her right tugged at her hand. “That’s not your question.”

  Dhulyn felt herself blushing. Here, all alone, was not the time for her attention to slip so easily from her task. She began by humming along with the Twins, finally singing the words she knew, the words to a children’s song, to the tune.

  How could she destroy the Storm Witch? That was the question she needed answered.

  SUDDENLY, SHE IS STANDING In A TINY CLEARING In THE WOODS, WHERE SNOW LINGERS In THE HOLLOWS, AND In THE DEEPER BRANCHES OF THE PINES. WHERE SHE STANDS, WITH THE TWINS BESIDE HER, THE GROUND IS CLEAR.

  “NEVER FEAR, DEAR ONE,” SAYS THE TWIN On HER LEFT. “WE WILL NEVER TELL ANYONE YOU ARE MARKED.”

  “THERE IS LITTLE WE CAN DO FOR OURSELVES,” THE OTHER ADDS. “BUT WE CAN CERTAINLY DO THIS MUCH FOR YOU. YOU MUST KNOW THAT WE HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL OUR LIVES FOR YOU TO COME.”

  “YOU DON’T KNOW US, BUT WE KNOW YOU, AND LOVE YOU LIKE A TRUE SISTER. I AM AMAIA,” THIS IS THE TWIN WITH THE GOLD-MARKED EYE. “AND THIS KERIA.”

  “BUT YOU ARE . . .” DHULYN FALTERS, NOT KNOWING HOW TO FINISH HER THOUGHT WITHOUT GIVING OFFENSE.

  “NOT WITLESS?” THE TWO SISTERS SMILE AT EACH OTHER. “NOT NOW, NO. SO YOU SEE WHY WE SPEND AS MUCH TIME In VISION AS WE CAN.”

  DHULYN LOOKS AROUND HER. SHE CAN FEEL THEIR TOUCH, THE HARDNESS OF THE COLD GROUND UNDER HER BOOTS, THE CHILL OF THE AIR, THINGS SHE DOES NOT ALWAYS FEEL In VISIONS.

  “THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO SEE WHILE In COMPANY?”

  “PRECISELY,” AMAIA SAYS, NODDING. “IT’S NOT ONLY TO HAVE CHILDREN, AS THE HEALER TOLD YOU, THAT SEERS BAND TOGETHER, IT IS FOR THE STRENGTH OF THE VISIONS, THE CONTROL WE HAVE OVER THE SIGHT, WHEN WE ARE TOGETHER.”

  “AND SO WE ARE STRONGER In VISION,” KERIA ADDS. “CLEANER, MORE OURSELVES, AS YOU ARE MORE YOURSELF, SISTER.”

  DHULYN REALIZES FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT SHE IS DRESSED In HER OLD QUILTED, MULTICOLORED VEST, HER SOFTEST LEATHER TROUSERS, AND THE SEMLORIAN BOOTS SHE’D LEFT In HER CABIN On THE WAVETREADER. AND HER HAIR IS LONG AGAIN, ITS FINE BRAIDS KNOTTED AND TIED BACK OFF HER FACE.

  “THIS IS YOUR VISION,” KERIA SAYS. “WE ARE HERE ONLY TO HELP YOU, TO MAKE IT STRONGER.”

  “DO YOU KNOW THIS PLACE AT ALL? HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BEFORE?”

  “NO, I DON’T THINK . . .” DHULYN PAUSES, SURELY THAT SMELL IS ONE SHE KNOWS. SHE TURNS TOWARD IT, AND A PATH OPENS In THE FOREST. ALL THREE STEP INTO IT, AND AS THEY FOLLOW IT, THE FOREST CLOSES ONCE MORE BEHIND THEM AND THE PATH DISAPPEARS. VERY QUICKLY, THE PATH AHEAD OF THEM OPENS UP INTO A CLEARING, AND THERE DHULYN SEES A REDHEADED WOMAN, WIPING THE HAIR OUT OF A SMALL CHILD’S FACE.

  “MY MOTHER,” SHE SAYS TO THE TWINS. “AND MYSELF.”

  DHULYN SHAKES HER HEAD A LITTLE, THE SMALLEST OF MOVEMENTS SIDE TO SIDE. WHY THIS VISION AGAIN? HOW WILL THIS HELP HER DESTROY THE STORM WITCH? SHE HAS ALWAYS SEEN THIS VISION FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE, AND FROM MUCH CLOSER, TOO. SHE LOOKS TOWARD THE SPOT WHICH WOULD GIVE HER THE FAMILIAR POINT OF VIEW, HALF EXPECTING TO SEE A SHADOW OF HER SEEING SELF, BUT THE PLACE IS EMPTY. FROM WHERE SHE STANDS NOW, THE TWINS TO EITHER SIDE OF HER, DHULYN CAN SEE MORE OF THE CAMP BEHIND HER MOTHER, THE OTHER FIRES, FIGURES RUNNING, HORSES LOOSE, AND THE UNMISTAKABLE RISE AND FALL OF WEAPONS In THE NEAR DISTANCE.

  “USUALLY, I CAN HEAR MY MOTHER SPEAKING,” DHULYN SAYS WHEN SHE REALIZES THEY COULD HEAR NO NOISE OTHER THAN THE WIND In THE TREES.

  KERIA PUT HER HAND On DHULYN’S ARM. “THIS IS CLEARLY ANOTHER PART OF THE STORY.” AS THEY WATCH, THE CHILD KISSES HER MOTHER AND WALKS TOWARD THEM. EVEN THOUGH THEY KNOW THEY DON’T HAVE TO, ALL THREE OF THEM STEP BACK OUT OF THE CHILD’S WAY AS SHE PUSHES THROUGH UNDERBRUSH AND LOW BRANCHES. THE PATH THAT EXISTED FOR DHULYN AND THE TWINS DOES NOT EXIST FOR HER.

  “DO YOU REMEMBER THIS NIGHT?” AMAIA LOOKS BACK OVER HER SHOULDER AT DHULYN’S MOTHER, WHO IS REMOVING THE LAST TRACES OF THE CHILD FROM HER CAMPSITE.

  DHULYN SHAKES HER HEAD. “UNTIL I FIRST HAD THIS VISION, NOT SO LONG AGO, I HAD NO MEMORIES OF MY MOTHER AT ALL. I COULD NOT EVEN PICTURE HER FACE. I HAVE SEEN HER In SEVERAL VISIONS SINCE, SOMETIMES WITH FRESNOYN, SOMETIMES USING THE VERA TILES.”

  “BEST WE TELL NO ONE OF THE FRESNOYN,” AMAIA SAYS. “THINGS ARE BAD ENOUGH WITHOUT THAT, AND WE WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO STOP THEM.”

  “ANOTHER SECRET,” KERIA AGREES.

  A PART OF DHULYN WISHES TO STAY AND WATCH WHAT HAPPENS TO THE HORSEMEN’S CAMP. SHE KNOWS THAT THIS WAS THE NIGHT In WHICH THE TRIBES ARE BROKEN BY TREACHERY AND DECEIT, BUT SHE HAS ONLY MET ONE OTHER SURVIVOR, AND KNOWS VERY LITTLE OF WHAT OCCURS On THIS NIGHT. STILL SHE FINDS HERSELF TURNING TO FOLLOW THE CHILD SHE WAS INTO THE HIDING PLACE HER MOTHER HAD PREPARED FOR HER.

  IT IS CLOSER THAN DHULYN WOULD HAVE THOUGHT, BUT THE CHILD IS CAREFUL, PLACING HER FEET ONLY On CLEAR SPOTS WHERE SHE WILL LEAVE NO PRINT, DUCKING UNDER SNOW-LADEN BRANCHES THAT A GROWN PERSON WOULD HAVE TO AVOID ENTIRELY. FINALLY, THE CHILD GOES TO HER KNEES AND CRAWLS INTO THE SMALLEST GAP BETWEEN THE BOUGHS OF A PINE THICKET. AS BEFORE, A PATH CLEARS FOR DHULYN AND THE WHITE SEERS. HERE In THE THICKET THERE IS ALREADY A SMALL WATERSKIN, A POUCH WITH TRAVEL BREAD, A CLOAK, AND A PILE OF SOFT INGLERA HIDES.

  BUT THE CHILD THEY FIND ASLEEP On THE SKINS IS NOT THE YOUNG DHULYN, BUT An OLDER, DARKER CHILD, HER THICK BLACK HAIR BRAIDED INTO A CROWN AROUND HER HEAD, HER VEILS SET TO ONE SIDE.

  AMAIA BLINKS HER GOLD-FLECKED EYE AND CROUCHES DOWN On HER HEELS, HOLDING HER HAND OUT OVER THE SLEEPING CHILD.

  “THIS IS THE TARA XENDRA,” SHE SAYS. “WE KNOW HER. HER BROTHER BROUGHT HER ONCE TO PLAY WITH OUR OTHER SELVES.”

  Parno clapped his hands and the six members of the crew he was watching held up their swords and stood back from each other. Two of them, he noted, acted with some degree of sharpness and precision. He didn’t have time to School them in the Mercenary manner, but he an
d Dhulyn had twice taken untrained civilians and turned them into reasonable fighting units. He was confident he could do the same here, with half-trained Nomads, even without her.

  “What do you think?” Malfin had come up on his left side, and Parno was certain he’d felt the man’s approach seconds before he’d heard him.

  “The second on the left, and the first on the right. They’ll do. The two farthest from me fight as though the sword has only a point.” Parno looked across his folded arms at the captain. “Been trained only with the garwon, I expect?”

  Mal nodded. “Would it be better if gave you only those with some sword training?”

  Parno grinned before patting Mal on the shoulder. “Would seem logical, wouldn’t it? The fact is some are suited to fast training and some aren’t. Those who are . . .” he shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to matter whether they’re already swordsmen or not.”

  Mal nodded. “Sar and Chels, you’re on the list,” he called out. “The rest of you are excused.” He turned back to Parno. “Gives you seven. Be enough?”

  “It will. Remember, not trying to take the city, or even to breach the walls, just to get in. The fewer the better, so long as they’re the right ones.”

  “Still wish could come with you myself.”