“Before Alyeka came, every rain brought frinks.”
Jaquar rubbed his left temple. “Then perhaps they develop at a lower altitude than I can operate inside a cloud—they might even form as they leave a cloud. I can only tell you that I don’t know much about the matter, despite intensive study.” He shrugged. “They are elusive to me.”
It was obvious he didn’t like admitting that. Marian shifted closer to him in comfort and Masif’s gaze went to her.
“Last night there were heavy rains on farmer Ciboul’s fields. Since Alyeka came, the outer fields that border the road to Castleton have received fewer and fewer frinks in the rain. But the inner fields, frinks were still a problem—until this morning. Ciboul reported to the Citymasters’ Council that there was no sign of frinks in several fields.”
Marian felt herself blushing. Suddenly she recalled the deep ties everyone seemed to have with the land. Would the farmer have realized she and Jaquar had had sex in his fields? How mortifying.
Jaquar said, “I was instructing Scholar Marian in weather yesterday, particularly storms and lightning. We rode the lightning onto a field near the road between the Castle and Castleton, then walked out to the road.”
“Excuse me,” Marian said. “But what do frinks look like?”
Masif smiled. “I anticipated that question. It appears as if I am the tutor for the Exotiques in frinks. You learned of frinks with me, didn’t you, Alyeka?”
Alexa shuddered. “Yes.”
The Townmaster walked back to his desk and took out a round pottery bowl. He shook it a little and the sound made Marian’s skin crawl. It was reminiscent of rattlesnake tails, with an added tinny note.
“Ewww,” said Alexa.
Masif stopped beside her and showed her what was in the bowl. “Ewww,” she said again, took the bowl and wrinkled her nose, then handed it to Marian.
Marian decided to be more classic in her exclamation. “Ick.” The bowl was full of little metallic shells that looked like articulated, armored cocoons. Each was about three inches long and as wide as her thumb. She grimaced. “Double ick.”
Jaquar took the bowl and poked his finger into it, stirring the contents. The repulsive, tinny scritching sound came again. Marian and Alexa shuddered.
“Most frinks that fall, die. Only some survive and burrow into the soil,” Jaquar said absently. He picked one up. Holding it by one end, he wiggled it.
Marian leaned away from him. “It sounds like a rattlesnake tail, only worse,” she said.
Jaquar and Masif looked at her quizzically.
“Yes!” Alexa said. “That’s what they remind me of. One of my foster parents had a rattlesnake tail. Ick.”
“Ewww,” said Marian at the same time.
Turning it over in his fingers, Jaquar frowned. “Even this shell has weight. If I felt these in the clouds, I’d know it.”
“Oh!” Marian stared at Jaquar, wide-eyed, understanding now what they’d flown through in that black cloud the afternoon before.
They all looked at her.
Jaquar’s scowl vanished and he sent a little tune to her, which echoed back with her puzzlement.
“What?” he prompted.
With an inward shrug, Marian tried an explanation. “That black cloud, with the—the sleet.” It hadn’t been sleet. It had been frinks. The thought of those obscene things pummeling her creeped her out. “The noise instead of the Songs.”
“Marian,” Jaquar said quietly. “I saw no black cloud. I would not have taken you into a cloud with sleet. I’m a Weather Sorcerer. I know which clouds hold ice pellets. We went into rain, yes, but not sleet. I heard no strange noise.” He kept his cool, blue gaze on hers.
Marian lifted and spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t understand.”
“She’s an Exotique. Perhaps she can perceive the frinks that escape your notice, Circlet,” Masif said, equally coolly.
Never looking away from her, Jaquar nodded. “Perhaps so. Tell us.”
Grimacing, Marian looked at Masif. “Could I have that tea now, please?”
“Certainly.” He picked up a horn that wasn’t connected to anything and ordered tea.
Momentarily distracted, Marian asked, “How do you do that? Is the horn magic, or—”
Masif smiled. “The horn has a small spell on it, but, I, too, have Power.”
“Oh.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, trying to see his aura. Nothing.
Jaquar put the frink back in the bowl and set it aside. Then he wiped his hands on a handkerchief and grasped her hands. Until his fingers touched hers, Marian hadn’t realized how cold hers were. He rubbed them between his own.
“Tell us about the cloud.”
With a frown, Marian searched her mind for details. “I don’t know when or where we blew into it.” She lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Playing in the storm was so exciting, I couldn’t measure time—you know how it is.”
“I can guess that you got caught up in your work.” Masif smiled at her.
At a tap on the door, he opened it and took a small tray, which he placed on the low table in front of her.
Marian made herself strong, sweet tea, and curved her hands around the china cup for the comfort of a known thing—a china cup of tea. The men were unknown, the furniture slightly different. Songs of the people in the house flowed around her in music unknown on Earth. A hot cup of tea was familiar.
When Alexa followed her lead and smiled at her, Marian was even more comforted.
“Marian?” Jaquar prompted, more teacher to student than lover to lover.
She sipped the tea. It was good as tea went. She drank a bit more. “As I said before, I can’t judge when or where the cloud was, but it was huge—a big, black cloud shaped like a fist.” Jaquar tensed beside her, but she continued. Frowning, she looked into his eyes. “I nearly lost contact with you. I couldn’t feel you. So I grabbed onto you, hard.”
Nodding shortly, Jaquar said, “I remember you doing that, but not when or where, either.” He glanced at Masif. “But it was her first Storm Ride. It’s not unusual to have a student panic.”
Masif poured himself a cup of tea. “Rather like taking an Apprentice up the scaffolding of a spire, I’d imagine. You’re not sure what they’ll do when the excitement wears off.”
“Sounds right,” Jaquar said.
Marian continued with her story. “Anyway, my head went foggy. The Songs disappeared. There was this awful noise like pinging, then an—” She looked at Alexa and said in English, “It sounded like an engine revving too high, ready to blow.”
Alexa nodded.
Marian turned back to the men. She didn’t know the Lladranan word for engine, hadn’t seen any such thing. “A very high-pitched noise, long and rising. Then I felt things hitting me. I thought it was sleet.” She glanced at the pile of frink husks and quickly away, then gulped her tea.
Reaching out, Alexa patted her arm. “Hideous.”
Marian tried a weak smile. “Yes.”
The men stared at her for a long moment.
“I would say that the Townmaster is right. You felt the frinks, even their evil cloud, while I didn’t. Something the Dark can mask from us but not you, perhaps. Extrapolating from the experiences of both you and Alyeka, the frinks cannot make contact with you, or if they do, they die.”
“This is a great discovery,” Masif said. “With your aid, Scholar, we might forestall any more frinks from falling live and burrowing into the ground.” He looked at Jaquar again. “Does the Tower Community know what evil the frinks will do to the land?”
Jaquar shook his head. “No. We are watching them, just as you Cityfolk and farmers are. We do not know what disaster they might be germinating. We have no records of frinks, no Lorebook in which they are mentioned.”
“Nor do the Marshalls,” said Alexa.
“Not good,” said Masif.
Marian took one last cup of tea and prepared to disappoint the man. “I’m sorry, but
I will not be able to help much.” She met Masif’s intent gaze. “I have a sick younger brother at home. I am studying as much as I am able, with the hope that something here might help him, perhaps even cure him and others who have his disease. But I can’t stay here in Lladrana.” She braced for anger.
Instead Masif’s face went impassive. He turned his head and the light touched the wide band of silver at his left temple. “I lost a young sister,” he said, almost too low for her to hear. He jerked a head at Jaquar. “The Circlet lost his parents. I do not doubt that if we had had the chance to save them by visiting Exotique Terre and returning, we would have done so.”
“Thank you,” Marian said.
“We Guildspeople of the cities and towns and fields thank you,” Masif said gravely.
They took their leave, and a few minutes later, Jaquar and Marian strolled through the streets of Castleton. A Chevalier joined them and he and Alexa dropped back to speak of Castle politics.
“It’s a pretty city,” Marian said. “Very clean.”
“Very. Not like the one I grew up it, but Krache is a seaport in the south, a lawless city in both Lladrana and the country to the south, Shud.”
Marian squeezed his hand. During their lovemaking, when they were connected mind to mind, emotions to emotions, she’d received flashes of memories from him. She supposed he had experienced the same. At least it wasn’t as detailed as the memories that had flooded her during the blood-bond with Bossgond.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His smile was crooked. “I know that your childhood wasn’t pleasant, either.”
Marian shrugged. “How many people do you know who had a great childhood? Alexa didn’t.”
“Of the Circlets? Most, I would say. Extraordinary Power tends to show itself early. If their own parents weren’t of the Tower Community, they’d be fostered, then apprenticed to a Circlet while still young. For instance, both Chalmon and Venetria had an easy childhood and student life.”
As he said it, Jaquar felt another tingle at the back of his neck, as if they were being watched. He’d experienced it a couple of times since they’d entered Castleton—once when they’d entered the city gates on the way to speak with Masif and again when they’d left the stonemason’s home.
They were in a busier portion of the town, with small shops and narrower streets. Mentally, he stretched his Power, and caught a flicker of pulsing Circlet Power and a glimpse of a tall, lanky youth and the bright green cape he wore. Chalmon’s recent student who’d raised his Tower and advanced to Circlet had chosen that color green as his own.
Jaquar set his arm around Marian’s waist. They were lovers now. He knew a little more of her mind, and how completely unaware she was of some aspects of Lladranan culture, like the competition between the Towers. He’d protect her.
The Marshalls’ Council Meeting this morning had not gone well. He’d told them of the plane-walking and the dark maw and the master—but not all of the master’s words—and they’d demanded information about where this evil place was, despite the fact that he’d told them the Tower wasn’t sure of the location.
He’d spoken of the Circlet observers and the Marshalls had insisted that they receive all previous and future reports of the watchers. The Marshalls wanted the Tower Lorebook. As usual, the Marshalls did not listen but commanded. Jaquar had hoped this would be different now that Alexa was part of the Marshalls, but tradition and ingrained distrust of the Tower were too strong to overcome, at least in one meeting.
Marian sighed and leaned into him, and Jaquar realized that they’d just passed through the city gate and onto the road up to the Castle. He’d been lost in thought.
She hadn’t demanded to know what he was thinking, hadn’t chattered or tried to converse while he was in deep thought. A jewel of a woman. Truly a Scholar and a lady.
As she kept step with him, the Song they’d made between them resonated low and potent. Her body brushed against his, hip and thigh. Under his arm her waist was soft and supple. Her fiery hair, different in texture than any he’d known, caressed his cheek. The fragrance of her rose to his nostrils and he inhaled, believing that he could never get enough of that scent.
But she was bent on returning to Exotique Terre. Now that he’d bonded sexually with her, he knew firsthand of her love for her brother, how much Andrew meant to her. Jaquar could not keep her from the young man. If Jaquar’s parents had been alive, or if he had stronger bonds with other Circlets and they had the time and incentive, he’d have proposed that they Summon Andrew. But even then, the young man’s health was too fragile for that. Not that the Circlets of the Tower worked together well. They simply didn’t join together often enough to practice merging their energies. They hadn’t had a strong enough outside reason to cooperate.
Until now.
The sangvile and the threat of many sangviles all feasting on the rich Power of Circlets in a few days scared Jaquar down to the bone. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one. Even Bossgond had expressed a fear of the monsters. Time to consult the old mage. He’d help with a plan.
Marian hummed a little tune and Jaquar’s focus returned to her. The tune, like so much else about her, was unfamiliar. He liked it.
He liked her. More—she fulfilled him. Sex with her wiped his mind clean of concerns. Her conversation stimulated him. Her joy in learning her Power reminded him of his own past, helped him recall lovely moments between himself and his parents, instead of remembering them as gray husks echoing of emotional torture.
She stumbled and he steadied her, held her close, noting with wry amusement that his heart rate sped up at the contact.
Marian smiled up at him and his thoughts scattered.
He wished she could stay. He’d court her if she stayed.
The idea terrified as well as delighted him. He’d been spoiled by his parents’ Pairing. They were a rare Circlet Pair—equal, trusting partners. Much more likely was a string of lovers, or a live-in lover who wasn’t a Circlet, or the bickering and mistrust shown by Chalmon and Venetria. Before Marian, he’d never thought he’d be so lucky as to find a Circlet who’d complement him. His rough early childhood had made him cynical enough that he hadn’t aspired to a Pair-bond with a woman.
Now there was Marian.
Her hand slid into his and the touch of her fingers along his palm fired every nerve in his body. He was completely, achingly aware of her and aroused.
He glanced to the side of the road. No wonder, this was the place they’d appeared last night.
Blood had rushed under Marian’s skin, too, and since her coloring was so much paler than a Lladranan’s it was easier to see. Enticing.
How fast could they get back to their bedroom?
24
As they walked up to the gate, a deafening alarm shrieked.
Alexa passed them, screaming, “Let me by!” People got out of her way, fast. The Chevalier she’d been talking to ran with her. The Castle guards stiffened, became more alert.
Bastien appeared at the far end of the thickly-walled entrance tunnel, grabbed Alexa and dropped a chain-mail tunic over her. Two other people came to dress her in armor. An instant later the sound of volaran wings beating the air reached Marian. People tilted back their heads and looked up. At least twenty volarans took to the sky in the first wave. Marian recognized several Marshall Pairs, as well as noble and independent Chevaliers, flying singly and in twos.
“Let’s go!” Bastien said, and whistled. A huge dappled volaran strode into view.
Marian’s heart clutched. Her friend was going into battle. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, could only stand and stare. Though Bastien’s face was creased in a wide, fighting grin, Alexa looked pale under her helmet as she squared her shoulders.
“Good luck!” Marian shouted.
“Merci!” Alexa called back, in Lladranan.
Bastien dipped his head to Marian, picked his Pairling up by her waist and tossed her onto the volaran. He leaped to the
flying horse’s back behind Alexa. “Fly!” he cried.
The volaran’s muscles bunched, wings extended. He took to the air, disappeared behind the Castle walls, then soared above them. Other volarans flew in formation behind Bastien and Alexa. Marian saw Pascal and Alexa’s new Chevaliers, Koz and Perlee, all riding beautiful volarans. Under her helmet, Perlee’s hair showed red in the sun and she stroked her volaran’s neck and laughed with excitement. Koz glanced over at her and smiled. They looked years younger than the desperate couple Marian had first noticed at the Nom de Nom the night before.
Alexa and Bastien were the only ones who rode double—because she didn’t ride well, didn’t fly well, Marian remembered.
The klaxon stopped and the great silence pressed on Marian’s ears, not mitigating the dread in her stomach. People moved around them, going in or out of the gate, on their daily business. Marian clutched one of Jaquar’s hands in both of hers.
More shouting came from beyond the gate, and another wave of volarans rose. This time their leader was Luthan Vauxveau in his pristine white fighting gear. His hair was wet as if he’d been bathing when the alarm sounded. No woman rode with him and his expression was severe.
Marian gulped. “Alexa’s gone,” she said, her voice raspy.
Jaquar slipped his arm around her waist. “Yes.”
“I thought since she found the answer to the fence posts, there would be fewer battles!” The connection between Alexa and her grew every day, as did their affection.
Marian and Jaquar were now alone on the road.
He urged her forward. “The Marshalls can now raise more fence posts and energize the magical boundary that keeps the horrors out, but there are still old gaps, and the ancient posts continue to wear out and fail.”
They came to the gate and the Castle soldiers looked at Marian, intrigued. Then one stared at Jaquar and her eyes hardened.
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