“Gladly,” Magda said, positioning her sleeping bag so that Camilla lay protected between her and the wall. “I’m sure that creature—I refuse to call her leronis— would send us nightmares if she could manage it.”
The fire burned low; Jaelle had kept one of the lamps lit, and she was sitting up on her sleeping bag, hand ready to her knife. Magda touched the hilt of her own knife… Jaelle’s knife; years ago, they had exchanged knives, in the age-old Darkovan ritual binding them to one another. It was familiar now as her own hand.
She thought, now that we are safe here I should try and let them know, in the Forbidden Tower, that we are safe. And I would like to know that the children are well and content. She composed herself for sleep, one hand touching the silken bag at her throat where her matrix rested. Drowsing, she let her mind start to range outward. An instant later she was in the Overworld, looking down through grayness at her apparently sleeping form, the motionless bodies of her four companions.
But although she tried to move outward, into the gray world seeking the landmarks of the Forbidden Tower, something seemed to hold her in the room. She hung there motionless, vaguely sensing that something was wrong. She found herself glancing toward each of her companions in turn, tensed for flight but held there by some force she could not overcome. She was not accustomed to this, and while, out of her body, she was free of physical sensation, she felt an anxiety, a hovering fear that simulated real pain.
What could be wrong? All seemed normal; Jaelle, sitting quietly alert; Vanessa and Cholayna, the older woman lying on her side, her face hidden in the pillow and only the pale shock of hair visible, Vanessa burrowed under her blankets like a child. Camilla was asleep too, tossing and turning unquietly and muttering to herself, her face twisted into a frown. Magda silently damned Matera in every language she could think of.
Softly at first, then louder, she heard a small sound in the silence of the overworld; it was the calling of crows. Then she could see them, hooded forms, misty images gradually becoming more defined. For an instant she had a formless sense of well-being. Yes, this is the right path. We are doing what we were born to do.
Then the uneasiness came back, stronger than before; the crows squawked their alarm cry, raucous, shrilling through the overworld. Then a sharper scream rang through the room which was not really the room at all. Hawks! From somewhere, dozens of hawks were in the room, angling, stooping down on the crows in every direction. A great wave of emotion, combined of anger, frustration, and jealousy, emanated from the hawks—it reminded Magda of the Terran legend of Lucifer and his fallen angels, cast out from heaven and forever trying to keep others from what they had lost for themselves.
A pair of hawks, feathers falling, speckled with blood, made a dive at Camilla, and Magda snapped back into her body as Camilla woke screaming.
Or had there been any sound at all? Camilla was sitting bolt upright in her sleeping bag, her eyes wild, her arms outstretched to ward off some invisible menace. Magda touched her shoulder, and Camilla blinked and truly woke.
“Goddess guard me,” she whispered. “I saw them; ten thousand devils… and then you came, Margali, with… ” she stopped and frowned, and at last said in a confused whisper, “Crows?”
“You were dreaming, Kima.” The rarely used, rarely permitted nickname was the measure of Magda’s disturbance.
Camilla shook her head. “No. Once before you spoke of the emissaries of the Dark Lady as taking crow form. I am not sure I understand it… ”
“I don’t either.” But as she spoke Magda had a sudden vision of Avarra, Lady of Death, mistress of the forces which break down and carry away that which is past usefulness; crows, scavengers and carrion birds, cleaning up the debris of the past.
Hawks; raptors, preying on the living…
Vanessa mumbled in protest, burrowing deeper into her sleeping bag. Magda glanced with compunction at her companions. She should not disturb them. She got up and went to the fireside, kneeling beside Jaelle.
She asked in a whisper, “Did you see anything?” and Jaelle started from an unquiet doze.
“Ayee—! What a guardian I am! We could all have been murdered in our beds here!” She made a nervous gesture at the fire. “I saw in the flames… women, robed and hooded, with the faces of hawks, circling about us… Margali, I do not like your Sisterhood.”
Magda beckoned Camilla forward.
“We saw. Both of us. I think the hawks are—are Aquilara’s crew, if that makes any sense to you, and that they have nothing to do with the real Sisterhood. But the real ones are near us. They will protect us, if we listen. But if we listen to Aquilara and her threats and summonings… ”
“Yes,” said Camilla gruffly, “I too have had a warning. If we stay here, we might better have died at the hands of the robbers. It is not our bodies in danger this time; they strike at the inner bastions of our minds. Our souls, if you will. It is not Arlinda or her girls that I fear, but they have somehow let this place be opened… ” she stopped and said in confusion, “I do not know what I am talking about. Is this what you two mean when you speak of laran?”
Jaelle looked from one to the other, dismayed. She said, “What do you suggest that we do?”
“Get the hell out of here,” Camilla said, “not even waiting for daylight.”
“A poor return for hospitality,” Jaelle said, hesitant.
“Hospitality indeed,” Camilla said dryly, “loosing such a sorceress—I will not give her the honorable title of leronis— upon us.”
But Jaelle was still troubled.
“Cholayna was so far right,” she said. “If Aquilara has Rafi—and Lieutenant Anders—I do not see how we can afford to leave them in her power. If she can guide us to them—”
“I think she lied, to deceive us into following her,” Camilla said.
“But in the name of the Goddess herself, for what reason?” Magda asked. “What would she want with us, and why would she try to deceive us anyhow?”
“I don’t know,” Camilla said, “but I wouldn’t believe a word she said. If she told us Liriel was rising on the eastern horizon I would look at the sky to be certain.”
For seven years it has distressed me that Camilla would not use the laran to which she was born. Now when she does I am trying to argue with her, Magda thought. Yet from Jaelle she picked up the very real concern; on their actions in the next few hours, the very lives of Lexie and Rafaella could depend.
She thought, damn them both, and quickly retracted the thought. She had known for years that a thought was a very real thing. She did not have the laran of the Alton Domain, where a murderous thought could kill, but she realized wearily that she did not want any harm to come to Rafaella, who was Jaelle’s oldest friend. She felt that she would like to box Lexie’s ears, but she did not really want to see her hurt or killed. What they had done was unwise, foolish, and tiresome, but death or damnation would be too great a penalty.
What then was the answer?
“Just supposing that she told the truth—even if her purpose could have been to confuse us like this,” Magda said, “and that she really does have Lexie and Rafaella? What do we do then?”
“Wait perhaps till she comes back, and I will guarantee to get it out of her,” Camilla said; she put her hand on her knife, then let it fall, her face grim. “I was not so good at getting it out of her that way, was I?”
Jaelle said, “No. We can’t fight her like that. I think that kind of fighting would be the worst thing we could do. She would be able to use the—the emotion of it against us. Do you know what I am trying to say, Magda?”
“She could make us fight among ourselves. Against each other. That may be all the mental power she has, but I am sure she could do that or something worse. Look what she seems to have done to Arlinda.”
“But in the name of all the Gods and Goddesses there ever were,” demanded Camilla, “what would her reasons be? You cannot tell me that she came into our lives, lied to us and sent he
r demons against us just for amusement! Even if she has a bizarre sense of humor and a taste for lying, what could she possibly hope to gain? Evil she may be, but I cannot believe in the evil sorceress who indulges in wickedness and mischief-making for no reason whatsoever. What does she think she can get from us? If it was theft she had in mind, she would not need to resort to this rigmarole. It would be simpler to bribe Arlinda’s dogs and watchwomen.”
“Maybe,” said Jaelle tentatively, after a long time, “it’s a way of keeping us away from the real ones. The real Sisterhood.”
Camilla said scornfully, “I can just about manage to believe in one Sisterhood of wise priestesses watching over humankind in the name of the Dark Lady. Two of them would strain my credulity well past the limit, Shaya.”
“No, Camilla. Seriously. The legends all say we will be tested. If they are what people say, they must have enemies. Real enemies, or why would they be so secret in their doings? To me it is not hard to believe that there might be—well, others, a rival Sisterhood, maybe, who hate everything they stand for and will stop at nothing to try to keep anyone from getting through to them. And the real Sisterhood let it go on because it—well, it makes it harder for the serious aspirants to get through to them. I mean, I can’t imagine they would want to be bothered with the kind of people who would listen to Aquilara, or her kind.”
“You have missed your profession, Jaelle. You should be a ballad-singer in the marketplace; never have I heard such inventive melodrama,” Camilla said.
Jaelle shrugged. “Whether or no,” she said, “it leaves our main question still unanswered. Whatever this Aquilara may be, liar, thief, mischief-maker or representative of some rival Sisterhood, the problem facing us is still the same. Does she have Rafaella and Lexie, or was she lying about that too? And if she does, what can we do about it, and how can we tell the difference? If either of you has any answer to that question, melodrama or no, I will listen with great willingness. I am reluctant to leave here without knowing for certain whether Rafaella is in that woman’s hands.”
It always came back to that, Magda thought in frustration. They were beginning to go around and around without getting anywhere, and she said so.
“You might as well get some sleep, Jaelle. Camilla and I are not likely to sleep much after that—” she hesitated for a word, reluctant to say attack; it might have, after all, been a dream shared among the three of them and born of their mistrust and fear of this place. But Jaelle picked it up.
She said hesitating, “It is not really late. If we had not all traveled so far, none of us would try to sleep this early. Arlinda’s apprentices may well be awake, perhaps drinking or dancing in their common-room, or even lounging in the bath, and I will go and try to talk with them. Perhaps one of them spoke with Rafi while she was here.”
“A fine idea. Let me go with you, chiya,” Camilla suggested, but Jaelle shook her head.
“They will speak more freely to me if I’m alone. Most of them are my age or younger, and there are two or three of them I used to trust. I’ll see if they’re still there and if they’ll talk to me.” She slid her feet into boots, said, “I’ll try to be back before midnight,” and slipped away.
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
When Jaelle had left them, the night dragged. Magda and Camilla talked almost not at all, and then brief commonplaces of the trail. Magda grew sleepy, but dared not lie down and close her eyes for fear of renewed assault by whatever had attacked her before. She knew it was reasonless, but she was for some reason terrified of seeing again those diving hawks; and although Camilla put a brave face on it she knew Camilla felt much the same.
Cholayna slept restlessly; Magda feared that the Terran woman was undergoing, at the least, evil dreams, hut she did not wake her.
Cholayna needed rest. She could certainly survive bad dreams, but there were other worries. She suspected, from the sound of her breathing, that Cholayna was beginning to suffer a few of the early symptoms of mountain sickness. How would the older woman survive the dreadful country past Nevarsin? They had only begun to get into the really high plateau.
Cholayna was tough, she had already survived Ravensmark and the robbers, and had come across Scaravel, exhausted, frostbitten, but still strong. Still, she should ask Vanessa, who knew more about mountains and altitude than any of them, to keep an eye on Cholayna.
As if Vanessa wouldn’t, without my telling her! I’m doing it again; trying to protect everyone. That’s not my job and I should realize it; other people have a right to run their own risks and take their own chances.
Around them the pulse of the night was slowing; the faint street noises died almost to nothing. She did not know how to read the faraway chime of the monastery bells, but they had rung softly several times, a distant and melancholy sound, before Jaelle came back into the room. Camilla, motionless before the fire, raised her head.
“Well?”
Jaelle came close, dropped on the floor before the fire.
“I found a couple of old friends,” she began. Her voice was quiet; partly, Magda felt, not to waken Vanessa and Cholayna, but partly because Jaelle feared being overheard by something that was not in the room at all.
“One of them was a girl I knew when I used to come here with Kindra. I was no more than twelve years old then, but Jessamy remembered some of our games. She recognized Rafaella at once when they came here. They were lodged in this very room.”
“They were here; I thought so,” Camilla said. “But why didn’t they wait for us? And was Anders with her?”
“So Jessamy said. Apparently Lexie had a slight case of frostbite, and they stayed here an extra day, so she would be in better shape to travel. Jessamy didn’t talk with Rafi about anything personal, or in private, but Raft told her that I would be coming—in fact, Jessamy thought they’d intended to wait here for me. Which is why she was so surprised when Rafi left without bidding her good-bye, or even leaving the customary way-gift.”
“That’s not like Rafaella,” Camilla said. “I’ve traveled with her in the mountains. She has always been generous with tips—it’s good business. Up here, everything runs that way—greasing the wheels, so to speak. Even if she was running short of money, she would have been apologetic, made what gifts she could, and many promises. I wonder what happened?”
“Jessamy said Arlinda was not disturbed—they had paid for their lodging, after all, and she never inquires into what tips the girls get. But Rafaella has stayed here before with explorers and climbers and as you say, Camilla, she’s always been generous with tips. Jessamy was not complaining or criticizing Rafi, but she did mention that Rafaella must have been in great haste. She didn’t even remember the women who repaired saddle-tack and doctored one of their ponies.”
Camilla’s mouth was grim. “If you wanted evidence, there it is for you. Rafi wouldn’t do that kind of thing, not if she ever expected to come back here and get decent service. For one reason or another, they left in a hurry, when they’d been expecting to wait here for us. What more do you want? Probably that Aquilara, or whatever she calls herself, spirited them away in the middle of the night.”
“If she was here to speak with us, she didn’t go with them,” Magda protested.
“Unless she has taken them somewhere and hidden them,” said Jaelle. “And if they went willingly, how do you explain Rafaella leaving without the proper way-gifts and courtesies?”
“Might she have intended it as a signal to us that she did not go willingly?” Camilla asked.
“And if Aquilara has hidden them nearby,” Magda said, “then. we can simply wait here, and she will lead us to them. That’s what she intends. She said so.”
“I know not what you may choose to do,” Camilla said, “but I go nowhere in that creature’s company. Nowhere, understand me? I would not trust her behind me—not even if she was bound and gagged.”
“If she has Rafaella and Lexie—” Magda began.
“If Rafaella was
such a fool as to trust that evil sorceress, then she deserved whatever—”
“Oh, stop it, both of you,” Jaelle pleaded. “This is not helpful. I cannot imagine Rafi trusting that woman at all.”
“Jaelle, do you think I am not troubled about her, about both of them? If Camilla feels she cannot trust that woman Acquilara, then if she sends for us, if she says Rafi and Lexie are with her, then perhaps you and I—”
“I trust Camilla’s intuition,” Jaelle said. “Perhaps tomorrow I shall seek out the woman who doctored their ponies, give her the tip which I know Rafi would have given her, and try to find out who saw them leave, and who was with them.”
“That seems reasonable. It will do Cholayna no harm to have an extra day’s rest,” Magda said.
“I am worried about her too,” Camilla said. “If only for her sake, it would be as well if our journey ended here in Nevarsin. The country past here—you know what it is like.”
“Only too well. I was born in Caer Donn,” Magda reminded her. She yawned, and Camilla said predictably, “If you are sleepy, Margali, go and rest. I will keep watch with Jaelle.”
Magda was still reluctant to sleep; yet she knew she would not be able to travel on the next day unless she rested. That was even more true of Camilla, who was not young, and already showing signs of travel-fatigue, but who seemed even more fearful of sleep in this place than she was herself. No more than Cholayna could she travel on without rest.
Camilla’s laran seemed to be surfacing after all these years when she had attempted to block it, and suddenly, with a pang of dreadful loneliness, Magda thought, I wish Damon were here. He could show me what to do for Camilla. It was too heavy a burden to bear alone.
Yet Damon was far away in the Kilghard Hills, and for some reason or other she seemed barred from the familiar access to the Forbidden Tower by way of the Overworld. She had tried, and she knew, deep in her bones, that to try again would bring down upon them the renewed attack of… hawks?
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 100