“Do you know why I called you here?” Eloise asked.
“You’re the sooth.”
“I wanted to see you, to see your fullness.”
“Well, here I am.”
“And I wanted to explain.”
“Explain? Not apologize?” Lisen made no attempt to veil her anger.
“I wanted to explain why I did what I did.”
“I already know,” Lisen snapped back. “I figured it out something like fifteen, no, almost sixteen years ago. I needed to be bold, not passive, not like a hermit, and I certainly couldn’t learn that here. You sent me off to Earth to revel in the fullness of my headstrong inclinations so I could be what you needed me to be. And so I’d mate with Korin in the Farii and make a baby with him. And not coincidentally, spending my teen years elsewhere meant I didn’t learn how and when conception occurred, leaving me ignorant and willing. Oh, I know what you did and why you did it; I’m smarter than you think. And although I abhor the manipulation, I do appreciate its fruits.”
“Your children.”
“And my life with Korin.”
“Ah.”
“Ha! You didn’t see that, did you. You never looked beyond my attraction to him. You saw a comely captain of the Guard and determined we’d join for the sake of our child, but you never saw us happy together. Well, there’s something I can toss in your face. We are joyfully, painfully, amazingly in love with each other.”
“But what I saw…”
“We’re very private about it. Maybe your gift has limits. I know mine does.”
Eloise coughed, and this time Lisen noted how wet her breathing sounded after. Titus was right. No matter how lucid she seemed, Eloise had little time left.
“You know of Bala and Nalin’s newest child, I assume,” Lisen said.
“Yes. A boy.” Another cough. “Lael. With their blond hair and Nalin’s blue eyes. Tell me about your children.”
“Rinli was invested as Protector of Thristas recently on her sixteenth outcoming day.”
“And she’s doing well?”
“Not as well as you might think. She’s got the gift, but all the time she’s spent in the desert over the years has left her unwilling to learn how to use it and, hence, control it.”
Eloise coughed, this time long enough that Lisen leaned in and helped her straighten up from the cot. When the hermit held up her hand, signaling she’d made peace momentarily with her lungs, Lisen eased her back down.
“The others?” Eloise asked.
“Oh, the other children. Nas—that’s Nasera—has just been rejected by Elor Zanlot. He’s learning the pain of being used and then rejected by another.” Lisen paused, allowing that statement to settle on the woman who had used her, then continued. “And Insenlo is wiser than her eleven years. In a different world she might have chosen to be a hermit.”
“Gifted?”
“Too early to know.”
“I hear you are a creative, patient and benevolent ruler.”
“Be careful where you tread, sooth. I’ve learned to take flattery for what it’s worth—nothing.”
Eloise reached a gnarled hand out, and Lisen took it, thinking this was the hermit’s way of saying her time was close. But no, she was demanding closer attention from Lisen.
“You’re a good…ruler. They all…say so.” Every time she halted, she coughed.
“And yet, with every word of flattery, you’re only flattering yourself. That is not the route to resolution for us.”
“Then, what?”
“An apology,” Lisen replied. “An admission that no matter the outcome, manipulating my life the way you did was wrong.”
“Will that give you peace?”
“I made peace with my fate long ago.”
“Then, make peace with mine.” Eloise squeezed Lisen’s hand, and Lisen felt the sensation of her soul in free fall. They were linked, and it was not going to be an easy passing.
Lisen alights in a meadow and looks around. A girl, not much older than Insenlo, sits on the grass, staring at something Lisen can’t see. She is an attractive girl, with grey eyes and strong features.
“Eloise, come in.” A woman, possibly a servant, approaches the girl. “Your brother says he doesn’t want to wait supper on you again.”
“No! No!” The girl begins to cry and pounds a fist on the ground. “You’ve broken the pictures again. I see them, for a moment, and then…”
The scene shifts. Inside a bedchamber. The girl, older now, looking more like the Eloise with whom Lisen is familiar, packing a satchel.
“You can’t just leave like this.” A young man, definitely older than the girl. Elsba? Lisen wonders.
“I have to tell Flandari.”
“And then you’re off to Solsta? Why not Erinina? It’s closer. It’s our haven. It will be easier for me to visit you there.”
“Because I need to do this alone.”
Another shift, and this time Lisen recognizes the room. Her own office, but the young woman sitting at the desk isn’t her. Her hair, though fiery like Lisen’s own, is a bit darker; the features, harsher. And she frowns at the woman sitting across the desk from her.
“So tell me this. Why did you pouch them both?” the sitting woman asks of the woman behind the desk.
“I…I don’t know.”
“I tell you, Flan, it’s because all Ilazers have the gift, and you knew without knowing.”
“And how did you know?” “Flan” asks.
“Because I had a vision. There’s only one way to save the one from the other.”
“And that is the sin with which I must make my peace,” Eloise said to Lisen in the link.
“What?”
“I lied to your mother, told her your brother would be a tyrant regardless, all the while knowing this lie would cost your mother her life.”
“Secrets and lies. You are nothing but secrets and lies.” Lisen wanted to spit.
“Here’s a truth. You and your captain? There are paths branching off soon where I don’t see you together.”
“What does that mean?”
“I know nothing more, just what I see.”
Damn slippery sooth. The woman can’t stop interfering. Lisen wanted to strangle her or do something equally destructive, but there was no point. Initially confused, Lisen tried to hold on to her but then remembered her duty—to guide this soul through famar, the dark passage between this world and the next. She pulled back and watched as the soul she’d known as Eloise plodded its way into the light of death. She never turned, never acknowledged Lisen, never after her final fateful pronouncement.
Lisen opened her eyes and released Eloise’s hand. Here lay the first Garlan she’d encountered after her time on Earth. Here lay the sooth who’d taken her life, washed it and wrung it out to dry, leaving her with a world she could have never anticipated. And here lay all that remained of that old sooth—a spiritless body. Lisen leaned over without thinking and kissed Eloise on the forehead, not realizing until she sat back up that she had just absolved Eloise and given her the peace she’d sought.
She rose and stepped out into the hall where Titus stood.
“It is done,” she said. Then, without another word, she left him and made her way up the stairs to the visitor’s garret and out the side door to the bridge that spanned the space between the two sides of the third story of the haven, taking her to the tower over the sanctuary. As a child and again as a young woman, she’d come up here to think and look out on the ocean that pounded away at the rocks far below. She leaned on the parapet and looked out over the water. The full moon caught every wave coming in and going out. They twinkled like stars, and Lisen felt the calm that she’d once felt as a child.
From here she’d seen the Emperi barge—the same barge that awaited her there now—seen it dock with what turned out to be her mother on board. And up here she and Korin had had their first conversation. He’d adjusted the positioning of the royal sword with the calm attention of
a teacher. And then they’d talked about his fear of hermits and their magic, and she’d sworn to him she’d never use it. Within hours she’d already broken that promise, but it had saved Jozan Tuane’s life, so he seemed to have forgiven her. But eventually she’d applied the push to overcome her brother, and at that, he’d left her for his home in Thristas.
Creators. She said there are paths where Korin and I are no longer together.
Her stomach lurched, and the brief calm she’d achieved blew away like smoke on the wind. What did it mean? A dozen different interpretations came to mind, but whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. She’d felt it, too, though not as clearly. Well, if it were soon, she’d know then. Life had a way of catching up with everyone. It would find her and do whatever it intended to do.
She climbed down from the tower, crossed the bridge and headed down to the dining hall. There, she snagged Kopol, and the two of them waited while the horses were saddled. Down the hill again, and as the barge backed out of the dock and then turned to make its way home to Avaret, Lisen looked back and wondered if she’d ever see Solsta again. Then, she locked herself in her cabin where she prayed to the Creators for strength, whatever was about to happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MADNESS
As Rinli and her father approached Mesa Terses, she struggled with odd sensations she couldn’t define. Always before she’d celebrated their arrival with joy at the thought of renewing friendships and settling into the comforting embrace of her home in the desert. Now, as the mesa loomed ahead of them in the pre-dawn light, she felt nervous, anxious, even a measure of dread, at facing the Tribe. She shivered. Perhaps it was simply her new responsibilities.
It was the beginning of December, and the winter nights took their own toll on the mesa’s activities. More dark meant more time to work, but the desert in the dark of the winter months could be brutally cold. Rinli wished she could stay inside with Madlen in the kitchen, but she recognized what her mother had meant about privilege. It was time to remove that impediment to the Tribe’s respect for her.
“All our trips here,” she heard her father muse aloud.
“What?” Rinli slowed her horse down and allowed her father to catch up to her.
“So many journeys back and forth, all to keep the provisions of the treaty.”
“I’ve always loved our times alone together.”
“As have I,” her father said. “They’ve allowed me to watch you grow. You were filled with the Destroyer Itself when you were younger—into everything, questioning everything, fighting everything and everyone.”
“I was a charmer.” She smiled and winked at her father.
He laughed. “I’m not sure I’d call you a charmer. But your innocence was palpable and infallible. I knew you could become whatever you chose to be.”
“Except I couldn’t.”
“Rin, if you don’t want this, we can turn around right now and go back to Avaret.”
“No, no. I’ve made my choice. Race you!” She kicked Lipta into a gallop and heard her father’s horse catching up behind her. The next five months brimmed with potential, and she brimmed with the desire to get started.
Gasping for breath, Madlen tore down the tunnels to get to the stable before Rinli arrived. From above, she’d seen Korin and her beloved ambling calmly toward the stable and had thought herself safe to watch a minute more, but then Rinli’s horse broke into a gallop leaving Madlen with no time at all. So down from the top of the mesa she ran, filled with joy, filled with fear. During Rinli’s absence, things had changed. She had changed. Although she loved Rinli more deeply than ever, she loved her differently, in a way she lacked the words to define.
She nearly slid down the last bit of tunnel that led to the stable, and when she looked up, she gasped. Four Elders and six hefty specimens of the new Thristan Defenders stood waiting, clearly for Rinli and Korin, like herself.
“Wha…” She didn’t finish. She could see no one would answer, although Elder Hozia looked at her with a frown. She backed up and tried to hide in the dark without leaving. No one remarked one way or the other, so she decided safe or not she would stay and observe. This was not what she’d pictured when she’d imagined Rinli’s homecoming; joyful hugs and giggles had filled her vision.
A few of the ten—were there really ten people waiting?—spoke softly between one another. Madlen strained to hear but failed. What in the name of the Maker and Destroyer was this about?
She tried to catch her breath noiselessly. She feared her gasps would echo through the barn. She wanted Rinli to arrive so there’d be answers. And she wanted her to turn around and never come back because this was wrong. She was their Protector. And they were going to…what?
A scream grabbed at Madlen’s throat. She could barely contain it. It was as though everyone here had been forewarned that Rinli was coming, and they’d come down, ready, prepared. But. For what?
If you’re coming, Rin, then come. Her stomach clenched, and every muscle in her body begged for release. Her mind clamored for answers, but for the first time in her life, she squelched the questions borne of simple curiosity that always seemed to blurt from her mouth unbidden. She tightened her jaw and kept her mouth closed. If she wanted to see, she’d better not get herself thrown out before anything happened.
Korin entered the stable first, Rinli right behind him. He dismounted without looking around. It was Rinli who noticed first.
“Fa?” She sat frozen in place on her horse.
Korin looked up, his eye surveying the crowd, and his body tensed.
“What is this?” he asked, his hand inching towards his sword.
“Korin.” Elder Hozia stepped forward. “Please. Don’t. There’s a way out, but not like this.”
Madlen watched as Korin’s eye flitted from one to the next to the next and on through the Elders and Defenders. She saw him assessing the situation as any good soldier might do, and she knew what he must be thinking. If he’d been alone, Korin would have tried to fight his way out of it. But he wasn’t alone. And even he had to see that Rinli was the object of all of this. One of the Defenders had already come around behind her horse and stood there, daring her to turn and run.
“Tell me,” Korin said.
“Rinli, Protector of Thristas,” Elder Rostor intoned, “stands accused of using hermit magic on a Thristan.”
Destroyer, Madlen screamed in silence.
“We are here to take her into custody,” Rostor continued.
“And her accuser?” Korin asked.
“Tinlo Randa,” Rostor said.
“Whom Rinli accused of an attempt on her life,” Korin countered.
Tinlo? My Tinlo? This is my fault? Madlen felt sick.
“A crime for which he has been determined to be guilty,” Hozia said. “Korin, let them take her. I promise she will be safe until this is settled.”
Korin dropped his hand down, away from his sword, and turned to Rinli who now dismounted into the waiting hands of the Defender who’d come up from behind her. Korin went to his daughter and spoke softly to her, words Madlen couldn’t hear. This was disaster, calamity, and Madlen could barely breathe. She wanted to talk to Rinli or, if not Rinli, then Korin. She had to know what to do, but she’d lost herself in a wasteland of fear and immobility. She had to move, had to pull herself from this place. If she couldn’t talk to Korin or Rinli, she’d talk to her father. He’d know what to do. She scooted out of her safe, dark place and scuttled out of the stable and into the tunnel, her soul mercilessly accusing her of cowardice and betrayal with no forgiveness in her future. She’d betrayed her beloved.
“Muzzle your thoughts, every one of them,” Korin whispered to his daughter and noted her lower lip quivering as she nodded. Then the guards, the “Defenders” the Elders’ Council had begun organizing before he and Rinli had left for Avaret, formed a ring around his daughter, forcing him back and away. As they marched her off, he whirled on the Elders. “She’s
the Protector of Thristas! What the Destroyer are you thinking?”
Hozia took two steps towards him. “Korin, grab your things,” she said softly as the three other Elders turned and left following Rinli and her captors. “I’ll get a torch. We’ll talk in your chamber privately.”
Korin managed to hold his tongue only long enough to get to his cave. He threw both his satchel and Rinli’s across the room, then pounced on Hozia.
“What in the name of Mantar just happened out there?”
“You remember that Tinlo came to the chamber before you got there with Rinli and Madlen?”
“Yes.” Korin’s breath came in heaves, pressing in and out of his lungs like a great bellows, and he brought his fists to his waist, arms akimbo.
“He told us a story not so very different from the testimony the rest of you gave except for one notable exception. One which, at the very least, the Elders had expected to hear from Rinli as well.”
“And?”
“She pushed him. She pushed him to stop him.”
“And that’s a crime?”
“It’s hermit magic, Korin. You know as well as I what that means.”
Korin started to pace, from the front to the back of his chamber and around again, three steps each way. “Would it ‘mean’ anything to you if I told you Lisen and I…we’ve been…” He stopped and faced Hozia. “Lisen has been trying to convince her to learn how to control it, but Rinli denies she even has the damn power. Damn it. Damn it.” He raised his hands and rested his wrists on his head. “Damn it.”
All this time, he thought. I wouldn’t have brought her back if I’d known.
“This is good,” Hozia said. “This is very good. So you and Lisen were aware of this, had been trying to help her, correct? Perhaps we can use that.” Korin looked at Hozia as she slipped into thought. “Hmm.”
Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel Page 33