Sorceress of Faith

by Robin D. Owens

  Marian stood at the altar, Sinafin on one side of the platform, Tuck on the other, Jaquar watching from the eastern star-point. Bossgond gave her a chilled golden goblet with thick yellow liquid she was supposed to drink.

  Marian eyed it warily, but whether it was the smoke from the incense or the aftereffect of her Tests, her mouth was dry and her thirst horrible. So she braced herself and glugged.

  It was the best orange juice she’d ever had, and she coughed to cover her nervous giggle.

  So many strange events—like the ceremony—and so many familiar things used in different ways—like the orange juice. She’d congratulated herself on being flexible, on going with the flow, but now wondered if that had all been a lie and she’d wake up crazed one morning from the stress of it all.

  Before she could grab on to the thought, Sinafin was brushing a kiss against her cheek and it felt suddenly as if she were drinking a mimosa.

  It is done! Sinafin said, a big smile on her fairy face. Marian sensed the feycoocu spoke only to her. An Apprentice could not have handled any trouble, any fearsome magics aimed at her or demanding responsibilities. But you are now a Third Degree Scholar.

  Oh yes, there were certainly things to be wary of, and one of them fluttered just beyond her nose. Marian hadn’t forgotten that Alexa had said the shapeshifter had her own agenda.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Marian said stiffly to the fairy.

  There are five degrees of apprenticeship and scholarship that you must master before you become a Circlet. You are already a Third Degree Scholar. It is good.

  Marian licked the last traces of the juice from her lips and gave Sinafin a hard look. “What about the rest—the trouble, fearsome magic and demanding responsibilities?” She didn’t mind the last, but the first two were definite causes for concern.

  “Time for you to discard the old robe of apprenticeship and don the new one denoting a Scholar,” Bossgond said, a proud note in his resonant voice.

  That dragged Marian’s attention away from Sinafin. Bossgond held up a robe—this one with a new symbol on it, an open book with a whirlwind coming from the pages. And the symbol was stitched around the hem and the ends of the sleeves. Marian liked the symbols, but would have preferred to have chosen her own icons.

  Then his words sank in. She was supposed to strip? Here? Now? In front of everyone?

  Tuck, of course, had seen her naked both lately and when he was a mere hamster. And of the beings in the room, he was the only one she felt comfortable seeing her naked and vulnerable. How could she bare herself to everyone’s—to Jaquar’s—stare?

  Bossgond shook the robe impatiently. “Come, Marian, undress that I might robe you.”

  “Couldn’t you just give me the gown?” She reached for it, but he whisked it away, narrowing his eyes.

  Alexa, too, has a problem with nudity, Sinafin announced to them all.

  Heat crept up Marian’s neck, her face.

  Alexa, too, does this changing-color thing, Sinafin transmitted.

  Grim, Marian snatched off her gown and dropped it to the floor, then grabbed at the new dress Bossgond held, missed. It was already too late to be ladylike, unconcerned and dignified.

  He stared at her panties. “You aren’t naked under your robe!” he said indignantly.

  Alexa, too, wears such strange garments, Sinafin chirped.

  Marian wanted to strangle the little being.

  “Nice,” rumbled Jaquar from somewhere at Marian’s left.

  Of course she hadn’t forgotten he was there. She leaped at Bossgond, wrenched the new dress from his grasp and pulled it over her head.

  When it slipped down she felt respectable again. “Is the ceremony now over?” she asked.

  Bossgond huffed, then went to the altar and picked up a long, sharp knife. He dipped it in a bowl of earth, then water, held it over a flame, then incense. The Sorcerer chanted as he did so, words stirring the air.

  Marian stared in horror. Surely she wouldn’t be cut or branded! Why hadn’t he told her he’d—

  He took her left wrist—the one both he and Alexa had cut—and laid the flat of the blade on her arm, beneath the tattoo that had appeared on her arm after she and Alexa had blood-bonded—a crossed wand and jade baton.

  But the knife was warm, not hot, and when he lifted it there was a small red triangle.

  “When this fades, you will be a Circlet,” he said. Then he nodded to Jaquar. “She is your pupil, now, formally under your care and protection.”

  Marian yelped as if the knife had burned her. “What?”

  No one answered her, they all concentrated on finishing the ceremony. A moment later Bossgond, Jaquar, Sinafin and even Tuck clapped their hands once. The sound echoed like thunder through the room.

  “It is done,” Bossgond said.

  This time Marian believed it. The room dimmed, then brightened.

  Bossgond addressed Jaquar. “Teach her Weather but not plane-walking. Her bond with Amee is not strong enough to keep her here rather than lost in the planes. I will speak to both of you each evening. Separately.”

  Jaquar’s face turned impassive. He jerked a nod at Bossgond.

  A sound like a foghorn came. That’s the boat with the cook, Sinafin said.

  “Stay in the pentagram, Marian. Jaquar, join with her and I will send you to Mue Island,” Bossgond said conversationally.

  “No, wait—” Marian objected.

  “Will you help me, feycoocu?” asked Bossgond.

  Yes.

  “I’ll send your volaran home, Jaquar,” Bossgond said.

  Marian didn’t see him, but Jaquar moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. “We’re ready,” he said.

  Tuck ran to her and crawled up her dress to a low pocket.

  “No, I’m not ready,” Marian said crossly. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m a Weather Sorcerer, Bossgond isn’t. He can’t teach you what you must learn.” Jaquar’s breath ruffled her hair and Marian shifted away. His arms tightened.

  He was too close. Too…dangerous. And though she didn’t experience the same flash of foresight she had now as when they’d first met, warning bells rang in her ears.

  She wanted to change her major.

  Marian and Jaquar arrived in his Tower with a soft pop of displaced air. Marian stumbled, but Jaquar held her and she didn’t fall. She was all too aware of his fast heartbeat. From the trip? Or from proximity to her? She’d like to think the latter, but didn’t flatter herself.

  As soon as her balance was steady, she pulled away and his arms dropped from her. She strode across the parquet floor.

  “Don’t cross the circle!” he ordered.

  It didn’t seem smart to breach magic. She’d already walked down a star-point and was near the circle that surrounded the pentagram. She crossed her arms, turned back and scowled at him.

  “I didn’t agree to be your student.”

  He raised his brows. “I didn’t ask that you be my pupil. That was arranged by Bossgond and the feycoocu. Two beings who should not be crossed.” His hand dipped to a pocket near his belt. He withdrew his fingers, holding a stick slightly larger than his hand. With a flick, the rod lengthened and thickened until it was a seven-foot staff of smooth and gleaming white-gold. Atop the staff was a real miniature cloud that wisped and flowed with the currents of air in the room. Or maybe from Jaquar’s emotions. It was looking like a thundercloud.

  Excellent trick. Marian tightened her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. She itched to examine the wand up close. How would it feel to keep a cloud in your pocket? To what use could you put such an item? The notion captivated.

  He tipped the staff to the star-point to her left. A crack and flash of lightning and the whole pentacle smoked gray, then turned into a silver pattern inset in the floor.

  “This is my ritual room. Let’s descend to my study. I have my Scholar planet spheres in storage there. You can use them. Today I’ll want to
judge the scope of your Power. If you are as well versed as Bossgond believes, we can start your practicum outside tomorrow.”

  She could feel her eyes round, her heartbeat rushed loud in her ears. Outside—that meant with real weather. Wind. Clouds. Ocean. Thunder. She focused on the cloud hovering atop his staff.

  He chuckled. “Bossgond said you were particularly adept with Lightning. But we will start, as always, with Wind and clouds.”

  “Of course,” she said, trying to be calm.

  A rustling came from her gown and Tuck popped his head out of the pocket. He fixed his eyes on Jaquar. “I am hungry.”

  Jaquar scowled, cradled his hurt left hand against his chest. “What are you doing here, mouse?”

  Tuck issued a miniature growl she’d never heard before. “I am Marian’s companion. I am a hamster,” he squeaked. “I eat nuts, and fruit and atomballs.” It sounded like a challenge.

  Jaquar blinked, then he flung back his head and laughed.

  “So you do.” He set his wand aside to stand by itself and snapped his fingers at Tuck. “Come here so I can meet my guest and provide for him well.”

  Tuck narrowed his eyes, cocked his head. Take me to him, please.

  Marian started at the tiny voice in her mind. Tuck’s voice. She froze. Another thing that was far out of her experience. Having a magical shapeshifter from another world, or an old Sorcerer speak to her mind-to-mind was far less shocking than hearing her hamster. Blindly, she reached into her pocket, closing her fingers gently around his soft fur and sturdy little body. She cupped her hands so he could sit in them. As she walked to Jaquar, Tuck rode as if he were a king. King of the hamsters?

  Incredible.

  She stopped within a couple of feet of Jaquar, eyeing him warily. He scrutinized Tuck, who wore his hamster-Buddha aspect. Tinkling music emanated from him. She almost expected Tuck to spout wise instructions.

  “May I pick you up? I’ll be careful,” Jaquar said to Tuck.

  “Yes,” Tuck said.

  Jaquar slid his hands under Marian’s. A ripple of hot notes licked between them. Jaquar’s deep-blue eyes met hers and they stood, linked by music and warmth and gaze. The world, even Tuck, seemed to fall away until only Jaquar mattered.

  Tuck nipped at her right index finger and Marian gasped, jerked and spilled the hamster into Jaquar’s steady hands.

  Even as she stepped back, Jaquar was lifting the hamster to eye level, studying him.

  “I’d like to see all of you,” Jaquar said, and turned Tuck to look at his belly, check his ears, even look at his back end under his stubby tale. Then Jaquar peered at the hamster’s ears and eyes. “Not a mouse, not a rat,” Jaquar murmured. “Could you open your mouth?”

  Marian said, “Bossgond has representations of Tuck, perhaps even of his internal organs and skeleton. I’d prefer you ask Bossgond for the Hamster Lorebook instead of prodding Tuck.”

  Jaquar didn’t look at her but raised his eyebrows. “And what would Master Tuck prefer?”

  Tuck preened. “Food,” he said.

  Laughing again, Jaquar said, “We’ll get some for you.” He placed Tuck on his left shoulder, took the staff and strode from the pentacle to a door in the far wall.

  Unlike Bossgond’s Tower, Jaquar’s was octagonal. Marian wasn’t sure what that said about him. From what she’d read, when a Sorcerer or Sorceress raised a Tower, it came from the image of the “perfect” Tower in their mind. So did the shape indicate that the man had many angles?

  “I don’t have any food in this room. Let’s go down to my study.” He opened the door, and instead of a hall and stairway winding around the full building like Bossgond’s, Marian saw a tiny circular stair built into its own round Tower, straight up and down. It would be steep.

  “Wait,” Marian said, staring at the empty center of the circle. She frowned. “Once again I’ve been transported without any of my belongings.”

  Jaquar tilted his head. “I have some bespelled cloth you could make into gowns, if you know how.”

  “I don’t.” To her dismay she felt a sting at the back of her eyes. She straightened her spine, waved at him to go on.

  His face softened. “I’m sure Bossgond will send your things with my volaran.”

  That hadn’t occurred to Marian; she still fumbled with small daily strategies of planning and doing. Irritated at herself, she nodded at Jaquar and said, “Of course.” She walked over to the door and waited for him to descend.

  “The door will close and lock behind you automatically,” Jaquar said, his voice carrying up from the shadowy stairway. “I’m sorry to be discourteous, but I would prefer that I know you better before I give you the Songspell to my ritual room.”

  “Naturally,” Marian said. How could such a thing be discourteous? She hated when people messed with her stuff; it was one reason she lived alone. She reached out and found a pipelike rail against the curved wall. Passing a window, she looked out. Bossgond’s Tower had been five stories high, and this one looked to be the same. Was the mass of a Tower also the measure of the Sorcerer’s Power? Jaquar’s ritual room hadn’t been as large as Bossgond’s. But it had been more beautiful. Airier, with pairs of long pointed windows around the walls.

  Since her new gown lifted itself from her feet, keeping her from tripping, Marian had no trouble with the stairs, except that they were in such a small space. Claustrophobia had rarely bothered her before, but perhaps that was another change. She seemed to metamorphose daily, perhaps even moment to moment, as if she unfurled and tried new butterfly wings.

  The pleasant fancy kept her mind occupied until she reached the lower floor of Jaquar’s study.

  She entered to find this room was much like the one above, with pointed-arched floor-to-ceiling windows in every wall, but the chamber was larger by about a third. The octagonal proportions were lovely, though it had fewer shelves than Bossgond’s study, due to the magnificent windows. She could see the whole room; it wasn’t a partitioned loft with study, sleeping space and tiny kitchen as Bossgond’s had been. Again the floor was parquet strips in an elegant pattern.

  Jaquar stood at a pretty sideboard, wooden with a top of colorful tiles. One of the tiles glowed red-hot under a teakettle.

  Marian’s mouth watered. She could almost taste tea—wanted it more than coffee. Tea was a comfort drink.

  At a small table next to the sideboard, Tuck sat. “Food,” he demanded.

  Slanting a glance at Marian, Jaquar said, “Food?”

  “Nuts, fruit. A bit of soft cheese. Some grains and greens, dried vegetables and seeds.”

  With a gesture, a large china bowl appeared on the table with Tuck. It was filled with various nuts, many of which Marian didn’t recognize.

  Tuck cheeped in delight, hoisted himself over the rim and plunged into the bowl, scattering nuts. Jaquar shook his head and chuckled. “He really did dive into his food.”

  “Yes.” Marian found herself smiling back at him. “He really did.”

  The kettle whistled and Jaquar poured water into a teapot. Matching mugs sat on the sideboard. He handed a cup to Marian. “Let us sit. The tea will come when it is ready.”

  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but followed Jaquar to a couple of large, soft chairs made of pillows. They were set before windows looking out on a view across the island and to the western ocean, not toward Lladrana. Marian realized from the shine of the floor that he’d moved the chairs to this pair of windows from across the room—and recently. Sensing that it had something to do with his lost parents, she said nothing.

  Jaquar sat and stretched out his legs. “Tell me what you want to learn, Marian.”

  He almost sounded like a departmental counselor. But his voice was too much a tool—even more than a professor’s voice was—to belong to a counselor, and she thought he probed more sharply than any counselor would. Less interested in her and her wants and needs than how she might fit into his plans. Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t had a return
of the strange feeling that he was a dangerous threat, but she wouldn’t forget it. Still, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with honesty. Perhaps it would prompt him to be open in return.

  “I want to find a cure for my brother’s disease and take it back to Exotique Terre.”

  He stared at her in surprise.

  “Bossgond didn’t tell you?” she asked.

  “No.” Jaquar’s voice was a mere whisper. “You don’t intend to stay here in Amee, then?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No. More than that, if the Snap doesn’t happen within the next few weeks, I’ll be asking for help to return to my home. My brother has a degenerative disease.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jaquar said, and she thought he meant it.

  “And what do you want of me?” she asked.

  14

  Jaquar’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, then shut it, and his lips shaped a grim line. When he met her gaze, his was darkly serious. “What do I want from you? I wish you to progress rapidly to Circlet status.” A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Despite what Bossgond says, and your spectacular demonstration of Power this morning, I do not believe that you learn so quickly.”

  “Oh? And how long did it take for Alexa to become a Marshall?”

  His head jerked back in surprise. “I, uh—” He blinked, then looked as if he were calculating.

  “The Marshalls have Tests, too, don’t they?”

  “Yes, yes they do.” Again he half smiled. “Many would say they have the hardest Tests in all of Lladrana. Alyeka was Tested the moment she arrived and had passed by the time she went to bed. Say, three hours.”

  Marian stared at him, struggling to keep atop the discussion. She recalled what Alexa had said had happened the first night she was in Lladrana. “But it cost her—her hair turned white.”

  Jaquar inclined his head. “Very true, and though she became a Marshall at that time, it took her weeks to develop her Power, to become a Marshall in more than title only. I may be wrong, you may be extremely quick.” He shrugged. “You are more mature than most Scholars who are so innately Powerful.”