Cephrael's Hand: A Pattern of Shadow & Light Book One

by McPhail, Melissa

  Master o’Reith had told Tanis to always be careful to whom he opened his mind, but Tanis felt Alain could be trusted. He held out his hands, and Alain took them with a look of relief and gratitude. As Tanis had been taught by his master, he opened his mind to the other boy, and soon he felt the expected contact with Alain’s thoughts; like the linking of hands, it was a palpable mental touch, gentle but firm. Alain proceeded to guide Tanis back to the vision he’d broadcast so plainly moments before, but this time Tanis felt none of its power, for he was expecting the picture and it did not surprise him. The rapport lasted for many minutes, but Tanis knew as Alain withdrew that he’d found nothing to help either of them understand.

  Alain was shaking his head as Tanis opened his eyes. The other boy looked crestfallen. “It must be my lack of training,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anything to help us.”

  Tanis gazed compassionately at him. “You did your best.”

  Alain seemed disheartened. “I fear my queen will never believe me.” He gazed off toward the gardens. Then he brightened with an idea. “Perhaps it’s something in your family line. What can you tell me of your parents?”

  Tanis shrugged. “I can’t remember anything about them. My earliest memories are of Her Grace’s mother, the Lady Melisande…” with thoughts of Alyneri’s mother came the necessary memories of Farshideh, which always were now accompanied by an ache in his chest. “And her assistant, Farshideh.”

  “You don’t remember?” Alain looked shocked. “Why did you never try a Telling with your master to uncover your early memories?”

  “I was just a baby when I came to Fersthaven,” Tanis said, shrugging. “How much more is there to remember?”

  “Tanis…” Alain settled him a chastising look, “did your master never tell you that memories can precede birth? That some Adepts can remember as far back as three or four lifetimes, some even more?”

  This was startling news to the lad. Tanis looked to his hands and then lifted his eyes back to Alain, gazing up under ashen brows. “Sometimes I have these dreams,” he confessed in a bare whisper, “and I think the woman is my mother…but how can I know for sure? It’s just a dream, after all.”

  Alain was sort of watching Tanis with this funny expression on his face. He held out his hands again. “If there’s one thing I am good at,” the older boy said, “it’s Tellings. Will you come into rapport with me again?”

  Feeling a flutter of anticipation, Tanis once again took Alain’s hands.

  “Now, Tanis,” Alain murmured, and his voice echoed in Tanis’s head as they shared each other’s thoughts, “I want you to return to this dream of yours, the one with the woman you thought was your mother.”

  Tanis felt a tendril of Alain’s prodding sinking deeper into his memory, stirring images like dust motes behind a curtain of unconsciousness. Abruptly the beginning of the dream sprang to mind.

  “Yes!” Alain said before Tanis could even tell him what he remembered. “Yes, tell me about this.”

  Strange as it may seem, as Tanis began to recall the dream for his friend, the memory became far more vivid to him than some of his recent waking days.

  “My mother is holding me in her arms, smiling down at me,” Tanis murmured with closed eyes, seeing her face again as if she stood before him, knowing hers was a smile that would remain in his memory forever. “I remember her face!” he exclaimed with sudden excitement.

  “Tell me what she looks like,” Alain encouraged, though Tanis well knew that the other Truthreader could see the image as clearly as he could.

  “Well,” Tanis began, biting one lip. “She’s beautiful. Her face is long and…and yet sort of heart-shaped, and her eyes are wide, pale…they’re colorless like yours and—and mine!”

  “No—don’t open those eyes just yet, Tanis,” Alain admonished, for Tanis seemed ready to burst out of rapport. “Keep recalling your dream. I want to see your mother better. Really think of her now. Show her to me.”

  And indeed, as Tanis let Alain take control, Tanis saw her vividly through their link. Her colorless eyes were lovely in their strangeness—how unusual to see a woman with those eyes! Her long hair was chestnut brown, though streaked with gold by the sun, and her face was bronzed. She seemed a strong woman, confident, and she loved Tanis with her whole heart; above all else, that was clear in her smile.

  “Now tell me more of your dream, Tanis,” Alain prodded gently.

  “I know I’m little,” Tanis began. “I can’t see myself, but I feel my mother holding me. Then she hands me to someone…my father, I think. It feels like my father. I can’t see him except for his beard; it’s the darkest ash, and his arms are strong holding me.”

  “How do you feel there?”

  “Safe. Safe with him.” Abruptly, he added, “Now I see my mother’s face again. She’s smiling and touching my forehead…then my cheek. We’re moving, and the air changes.”

  “Tell me about it?”

  Eyes still closed, Tanis frowned. “It’s like we’ve gone outside.”

  “What’s it like outside? What do you hear?”

  Tanis thought about that. Then: “It’s dark—dusk, I think, and the smell of the sea is heavy in the air—like it is at Calgaryn, but I don’t think we’re at Calgaryn.”

  “Why?”

  Tanis puzzled for a moment over that. “It’s just that…well, I can hear the waves crashing against the shore, and they sound different.”

  “Like they’re crashing against rocks instead of onto sand?” Alain offered.

  Tanis shook his head and frowned. “No…more like river stones pouring out of a jar.”

  “And are they saying anything?”

  Tanis nodded. “My father says, ‘I must go soon.’ “

  “All right, Tanis,” Alain coached, “I want you to run the conversation through your memory, just like you’re hearing it again, and I’ll just listen.”

  Drawing in a deeply excited breath, Tanis did.

  “We must part soon, Renaii,” Tanis’s father said. His voice was rich and deep, and filled with a great sense of loss.“I do not think I shall ever see you again, my love…my one true love.”

  “We always knew this day would come,” Renaii said, her voice full of compassion. “But we have Tanis now,” and her face appeared in front of him again, smiling, “and he shall grow up knowing and loving the man that is his father, this I swear to you.”

  Tanis’ father sighed with longing, with regret, with the pain of what he must do. “I would have him with me—have you both with me!—if there was any way to ensure…”

  Renaii sighed, an aching sigh. “Do not dwell upon it, my darling,” she whispered. Her voice was tormented, desperate, hopelessly in love... and strong. Always that. “When we part, I will grieve for you, but not before. I would only love you now, while I have you.” She reached to Tanis and pulled the blanket he was wrapped in closer around him. Tanis was comfortable and warm, and he must have fallen asleep in his father’s arms, for the dream faded. A wonderful dream.

  Tanis opened his eyes and found Alain looking back at him. For a moment, two sets of colorless orbs gazed at each other. Then Alain smiled. “That was no dream, Tanis,” he assured the younger boy. “That was your own true memory. You even know your mother’s name.”

  “Renaii,” Tanis whispered.

  Alain was watching him intently. After a moment, he said in a tone of wonder, “Your mother was a Truthreader.” Alain was looking extremely excited, heady with the information he’d uncovered. “Don’t you know what that means?”

  Tanis shook his head.

  Eyes bright, Alain said, “In the history of the realm, only one bloodline has ever produced female Truthreaders.”

  Tanis just looked at him.

  Abruptly Alain laughed and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Tanis, don’t you see? Without much searching, you could know who your parents are!”

  Tanis wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If his dream was true, his
father was…gone and his mother—well, something must’ve happened to his mother, for he felt sure she never would have given him up, even to be a ward of the Lady Melisande. But Alain was obviously excited to tell him, so Tanis obliged him by asking, “What is the bloodline then?”

  Alain eyed him intently, turning suddenly close-mouthed. “It’s an Agasi bloodline,” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin. “Does that tell you anything?”

  “Agasi,” Tanis mused, tasting the word in relation to himself for the first time. Strangely, it fit.

  “You still don’t know?” Alain asked incredulously. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  Tanis glared and punched Alain in the arm. “Burn you—yes! I want to know.”

  Alain laughed. “All right—don’t say I didn’t warn you. But you already know the bloodline, Tanis. Just think—who’s the most famous female Truthreader in the realm?”

  Tanis frowned. For some reason, all he could think of was Raine D’Lacourte, but there weren’t any famous female D’Lacourtes. And then…he had it. He looked up at Alain. “But…” he said, unable to countenance putting the two pieces together. “But I only know of one female Truthreader: the Empress of Agasan.”

  Alain looked triumphant. “Valentina van Gelderan.”

  Tanis sort of stared stupidly at him. Then he barked a laugh. “But you’re not suggesting…well that’s just absurd!”

  Alain crossed arms and gave him a supremely confident look. “Believe what you like, Tanis of Giverny, but your mother could only have been descended from the imperial line of Agasan. Not that this is a narrow field, by any means,” he added more to himself than to Tanis, as if he meant to pursue the matter regardless of Tanis’ interest, “for the Empress has nine brothers and sisters and twenty-seven first cousins, not to mention her own six daughters and five sons, most of whom have grandchildren by now. Still…” he gave Tanis a smile brimming with confidence. “It’s a start.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Tanis protested.

  But Alain wasn’t to be put off. “It’s quite without question, Tanis,” he insisted. “Like it or not, you’re a van Gelderan!”

  ***

  Alyneri retrieved her hands from Sandrine’s for the last time and opened her eyes. What the woman had shown her was…amazing. She was certain it was a different working than the zanthyr had used to save Ean, but she knew it could mean life or death for her future charges. What’s more…

  I can Pattern!

  It was only a single pattern she’d learned—nothing like the repertoire an Adept must accumulate to consider himself a wielder—but she was infinitely proud of that one pattern which she now could command. She drew in a deep breath as if surfacing from the ocean depths and exhaled slowly, feeling immensely tired but also accomplished. “Thank you, Sandrine,” she whispered gratefully, lifting her gaze to meet the older woman’s. “Thank you for this gift, and for your help in mastering it.”

  Sandrine smiled. “My pleasure, duchesse. It is a simple pattern, but one I have found highly useful.”

  Alyneri nodded to the obvious truth of that. She rose and walked to a table where a decanter of wine and two goblets had been set for them, along with a meal that had gone untouched. Even in her weariness she remained too excited for hunger to take root.

  “You should eat something,” Sandrine said from close behind her. Alyneri started as the woman’s hands found her shoulders again. Sandrine’s thumbs moved in slow strokes down the back of Alyneri’s neck, and the duchess admitted it was unexpectedly soothing. “Working patterns that are outside our nature uses our lifeforce in ways to which we aren’t accustomed.” Her hands moved to massage Alyneri’s shoulders. “You feel the thrill of the pattern, an echo of its inherent power. It is invigorating…to some even an aphrodisiac. But it is also deceptively draining.”

  Alyneri resisted the urge to relax into the woman’s capable hands. “Sandrine…” she managed.

  The Healer laughed throatily. “I know,” she murmured, moving closer still to Alyneri to whisper, “you are staying faithful to your betrothed.” One hand traced the line of Alyneri’s neck, around to her collarbone, and continued lower still… “But think of this, duchesse,” she breathed, her lips touching Alyneri’s ear, feather soft, “when you lie with a woman, with whom intercourse is impossible, what infidelity exists?”

  As Alyneri tried to fathom that twisted logic, Sandrine turned her so they faced each other. Alyneri blanched—the woman had undone the laces of her dress, revealing her ample bosom. “What happened to Chastity?” Alyneri managed, so startled she could barely think straight. “Is it—is it not one of your Cardinal Virtues?’

  “Chastity does not mean celibacy, Your Grace,” Sandrine returned, placing two hands on Alyneri’s hips to draw her nearer. “And my patron is Temperance, not Chastity. I gave you an invaluable gift, did I not,” she inquired, letting one hand come to rest boldly on Alyneri’s breast, massaging lightly. “It is only fitting that you return the favor—”

  “Madame!” came a voice at the door, which was accompanied by a fervent knocking. “Madame la duchesse?”

  Alyneri gasped in relief and tore out of Sandrine’s clutches. “Yes, I am coming,” she said breathlessly as she rushed across the room. Opening the door a fraction, she found a steward waiting, a young man of perhaps ten and six. He bowed and then asked, “Madame la duchesse, est Sandrine du Préc par les vôtres?”

  Alyneri glanced fretfully over her shoulder but was relieved to see Sandrine had fully composed herself. “Je suis ici,” Sandrine replied smoothly, coming toward the door. Then she continued in Veneisean, “Est-ce la comtesse?”

  He answered in kind, “Yes, Madam. The time comes, I am told.”

  Sandrine looked to Alyneri and arched a brow suggestively. “So. Shall we attend?”

  “I think we must,” Alyneri said, counting her blessings and making a mental note to thank the comtesse—or perhaps the twins?—for her excellent timing. She nodded quickly to the steward, and he dutifully led the way.

  Forty-three

  ‘I am the night that ends the day. I am Malorin’athgul.’

  – Sobra I’ternin, Eleventh Translation, 1499aF,

  Book X: Qhorith’quitara

  Shail’abanachtran stood before the mountain as the sweltering Avataren sunset was smearing blood across the heavens. He watched heat waves rising off the scorched sands while he waited on his brother’s pleasure.

  Shail hated the heat.

  Heat was life. Heat was creation. Heat was the energy of motion, motion leading to existence, existence to persistence, persistence to evolution, evolution to survival, survival to infinity.

  Toward all of these, Shail was diametrically opposed.

  The gilded feather twitched in his hand, a symptom of his malcontent. How did Rinokh stand this damnable place?

  When at last the sun had vanished beneath the rim of the world, Rinokh spoke. His deeply resonant voice was the rumble of distant thunder. “What is it you want, Shail’abanachtran?”

  Knowing how his brother’s mind worked, perhaps better than the others did, Shail replied, “I come with a challenge, Eldest.”

  Rinokh yawned and shook his shoulders as he roused from his sleep. An avalanche of sharp stones tumbled down the mountain, raising dust to blot the bleeding skies. “I am busy,” he replied, the roar of a raging fire, “and you are singularly uninteresting.”

  “Then let me inspire you, for my challenge is beyond even Darshan.”

  “I find that unlikely.” Rinokh sneezed with the avalanche’s dust, and the desert shrubs shook with a violent wind.

  “Why else would Darshan refuse action except to hide his own ineptitude,” Shail countered acidly. “Our brother has become weak, Rinokh, drunk in the adoration of his mindless hordes.”

  Rinokh said nothing for a long time. A hot desert wind stirred Shail’s long ebony hair as he stood before the mountain. The stars were piercing through the dying sun’s haze before Rinokh spo
ke again. Finally then, with the fall of night, he said, “I am listening.”

  “I have found a man,” Shail told him.

  “I have found and eaten many of them,” Rinokh replied.

  “This man can unwork things.”

  “Good,” replied Rinokh, and the ground shook with his pleasure. “Let him be put to task for us and the sooner we shall be done with this tiresome realm.”

  “He cannot be turned to our cause,” Shail said, a calculated statement of invitation.

  Rinokh roared in outrage. Across the desert, sleeping children quailed in their dreams. As the echo of his anger faded, Rinokh growled, “All creatures may be turned to our cause.”

  “I challenge you to try, brother,” Shail said with a private smile, knowing his purpose was already achieved.

  Rinokh snarled. Across the distant sands, nomadic tribesmen drew their weapons and stared into the night in terror. “You dare to assume I cannot bend these mongrel races to my whims?” Rinokh growled.

  “This man will be different.” Shail alone remembered the last time they’d found and faced such a man as this Ean val Lorian, for that time it had been Shail who was almost undone. More quietly, he hissed, “You will see.”

  Abruptly Rinokh laughed, long and deep. The land quaked beneath Shail’s boots, and a fissure split the parched earth and splintered away, spearing toward the deep desert sands, lightening trapped within terra firma. “Watch and learn, Youngest,” Rinokh said then. “Learn well, for there are none who may resist our power.”

  Abruptly the mountain moved. Gale-force winds battered Shail as the enormous black shadow lifted from the earth and rose slowly into the sky, blotting out the budding stars.

  Shail watched the mountain go. “Good hunting, brother.”

  Forty-four

  ‘Do not seek to know thy future; seek instead to make it.’

  – Attributed to the angiel Epiphany

  Tanis heard a light knock upon his bedroom door and turned as a chambermaid entered carrying a tea tray balanced on one hip and in her other hand his navy jacket, the gift from Prince Ean, pressed and laundered. “I’m ‘ere to ‘elp you ready for dinnaire, monsieur,” the young woman said in heavily accented Common as she set the silver tray upon a table and laid the jacket across the bed.