The Exile and the Sorcerer

by Jane Fletcher

  “Oh, Keovan’s knickers! I forgot to ask what colour eyes she wanted.” Jemeryl paused. “I guess it’s down to me.” She studied Tevi’s face for a few seconds and smiled. “Grey.”

  *

  Night had fallen by the time Jemeryl was finished. The job had presented more problems than expected, and she was exhausted. She hauled Tevi from the table and onto Ruff’s back for the short, shuffled journey up through the parlour and into a small side chamber. This had been allocated as a sickroom in the days when Jemeryl had expected to be called on regularly to nurse sick villagers. Tevi would be only the second person to occupy it. As she rolled Tevi onto the bed, Jemeryl pushed away the memories of the other patient, the young girl dying of gangrene.

  She tugged off Tevi’s boots and outer clothing, then pulled up the blankets and stood back. Waves of tiredness swept over Jemeryl. Lank strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

  Klara perched on the bedstead. “Finished already?”

  “Just about. I want you to stand watch. Call me if Tevi wakes. Otherwise, let me sleep.”

  “Why do I get the boring jobs?”

  “Because I’m the one who can open the food cupboard.”

  Jemeryl paused at the door, intending only a last backward glance. Instead, she froze, overwhelmed by the changes the day had brought. What was so important about meeting this woman? She studied her patient. Tevi’s face was relaxed and at peace. Dark hair fell over the clean white bandage around Tevi’s eyes, and the tip of her nose stuck out below. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks were smooth and flushed in sleep.

  An assortment of vague ideas scrambled through Jemeryl’s mind. The only one clear enough to be identified was an awareness that she had been celibate for over two years.

  Jemeryl laughed at herself and shook her head. “It’s amazing, the funny ideas you get when you’re tired.”

  “You never needed tiredness as an excuse before.”

  “Impudent bird.” With that, Jemeryl shut the door and headed to her own bed.

  *

  Tevi awoke from a series of troubled dreams. Her first thought was that it was still night, since it was too dark to see. Then memories disentangled themselves from the nightmares. Her hand shot to her face, and with the feel of the bandage came the realisation that her eyes no longer hurt. Tevi’s hand fell back to the bedcovers, but her relief was short-lived. From the foot of her bed came a sound like leaves rustling in the wind—except the air in the room was still. Something was moving.

  Tevi’s memories continued to drop into place. She was in the sorcerer’s castle, alone and sightless. There had been nonhuman things in the courtyard. The villagers’ stories suddenly seemed far more credible. Tevi felt an urge to hide, an urge all the more inane since her only options were under either the bedcovers or the bed itself. Neither was likely to be effective if the sorcerer, or anything else, meant her harm. Tevi fought back her panic. What was it at the foot of the bed?

  A new set of muffled sounds arose. Tevi’s entire concentration focused on her ears. Someone was moving in an adjoining room and getting closer. The noises stopped; then a handle rattled, and what had to be the door to her room opened.

  Tevi jerked onto one elbow, facing the sound. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Jemeryl. Are you all right?”

  Tevi fell back, feeling simultaneously frightened and stupid. “Yes...yes, I think so.”

  “Do your eyes hurt?”

  “No. They feel fine.” Tevi took a grip on herself. The sorcerer had kept her word. She had taken away the unbearable pain. The very least Tevi owed her was the benefit of the doubt.

  The bed moved. Presumably, Jemeryl had taken a seat on the edge. Tevi pulled herself into a sitting position.

  “Any other aches and pains?” Jemeryl asked gently.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Er...I must have.” Tevi did not feel completely certain about anything.

  “Then can I interest you in breakfast?”

  “Oh, yes.” This was the easiest question so far. Tevi had not eaten since breakfast in Sergo’s cottage the previous morning.

  “The villagers leave supplies. I can offer bread and honey, slices of ham, cheese. How does that sound?”

  “Fine.”

  “There’s a bowl of water on the table beside your bed. I was too tired to clean you up last night, but if you want, I’ll help now.”

  Tevi shook her head. “I can manage on my own.”

  “Right. I’ll go and get breakfast.”

  With her fears easing, Tevi’s body was able to attract her attention. Jemeryl must have noticed the resulting expression.

  “There’s something else you want?”

  “Um...a latrine?” Tevi asked sheepishly.

  “Oh, of course.” Jemeryl took Tevi’s hand and helped her out of bed. “There are privies built into the wall where the tower overhangs the cliff. One is in the corner of your room. I’ll show you. It’s primitive but functional. Just a seat with a hole over a sheer drop. If you suffer from vertigo, it would be a good idea not to look too closely once your bandage is removed.” Jemeryl paused. “However, in spring and summer, the cliffs below are covered with nesting birds. I sometimes think the latrines were the architect’s idea of revenge.”

  Tevi laughed out loud for the first time in ages. There were a few seagulls on Storenseg she had a score to settle with, although they were unlikely to be so far from home.

  Jemeryl let go of Tevi’s hand. “There’s not much furniture in the room. If you go carefully, you shouldn’t bang into anything. Your saddle pack is under the table. If you’re all right, I’ll see about breakfast.”

  “I’ll manage,” Tevi said confidently. Only after the door closed did she remember the thing she had heard moving. What was it? And was it still there?

  Tevi took a deep breath. She was being stupid. Nothing bad had happened so far; the sorcerer seemed friendly, and even if she were not, acting like a coward would not help.

  Working by touch, Tevi was able to take care of herself, including finding a clean shirt in her pack. By the time Jemeryl returned, she was back in her bed, feeling much better. Her newfound composure lasted less than a second. Something small leapt onto the bed, and a tiny, clawed hand touched hers.

  “What is it?” Panic cracked Tevi’s voice.

  “It’s just a squirrel.”

  “A squirrel!”

  “Most likely after your breakfast. It won’t like the honey or the ham, but squirrels are incurable optimists.”

  “A squirrel?” Given the circumstances, an imp or huge spider would have been far less surprising. While Tevi was coming to terms with the idea, a plate was pressed into her hands. The small creature was lifted from Tevi’s lap and deposited by her feet—not that it stayed there.

  “I’m afraid the castle is overrun with them.” Jemeryl sounded rueful.

  “Aren’t they supposed to be hibernating?”

  “They should be, but it’s warm in the castle, and I feed them, so mostly they stay awake.”

  “They’re tame?”

  “Lightly entranced. I can make it go if you want.”

  “It’s all right.” Tevi cautiously put out a hand and stroked the squirrel. She could feel that it was perched on its back legs and peering about the room. “Was it squirrels I heard in the courtyard yesterday?”

  “In part. Tumble was also contributing to your riotous welcome.” Jemeryl hesitated, as if considering her words. “Ruff and Tumble are bears...quite large bears. I’ll try to keep them away from you, but you needn’t be frightened. They really are completely safe. Tumble just wanted to make friends.”

  Obviously, some of the villagers’ stories were based in fact. Tevi concentrated on eating while she turned ideas over, hoping Jemeryl would put her silence down to hunger. Although the sorcerer had been pleasant, it might be part of a less altruistic plan. Subconsciously reflecting her doubts, Te
vi’s hand rose to the bandage, wondering if her eyes really were cured.

  “Stop that,” Jemeryl said sharply.

  Tevi flinched. “Pardon?”

  “I’m sorry. Not you; the squirrel. It’s eyeing up your bread. It’s realised you can’t see.”

  “Oh, well...if it wants some, there’s more here than I need.”

  “Best not encourage them, or they’ll be stealing dinner from under our noses.” Jemeryl sounded exasperated but amused. “Here. I have some acorns in my pocket. If I put a few on the floor, that ought to distract it while we finish eating—unless it decides to try its hand at making a nut sandwich.”

  Again, Tevi found herself laughing. Pockets full of squirrel bribes did not fit with the evil necromancer of the stories.

  “The villagers...they told me a bit about you,” Tevi began.

  “I’m sure they did.”

  “You don’t seem quite like I expected.”

  “You mean I haven’t fed you to my pet dragon?”

  “Er...” Tevi wondered if she should have kept quiet.

  “There’s a simple explanation. It’s not hungry yet.”

  Tevi could tell Jemeryl was joking, but there was an edge to her voice. The sorcerer was very serious about something. Uncertainly, Tevi asked, “Do you have a dragon?”

  “Of course not. But I’ve got a mentor who could give real dragons nightmares.” The second part was muttered so quietly that Tevi was not sure if she had misheard.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound as if—”

  “It’s all right. I’m aware the villagers don’t trust me. In part that has to be my fault, but half of what they say about me is distorted, and the other half is completely untrue.”

  From the undercurrents to Jemeryl’s voice, a lot was being left unsaid, but there was also unmistakable sincerity. Tevi realised that she trusted the sorcerer far more than the villager’s stories, or would until her own experience persuaded her otherwise.

  Before she could think of a suitable response, a large yawn caught her by surprise. “I can’t still be tired.”

  “You probably are. It’s a side effect of the magic. Having your eyes turned to crystal and back can take a lot out of you. Sleep might be a good idea.”

  After a moment’s deliberation, Tevi slid down under the blankets. The squirrel hopped onto the bed and snuggled into the curve of her arm. There was something very reassuring about the small warm, furry body. The last of Tevi’s fears dissolved as a wave of sleepiness washed over her. She was only vaguely aware of the door closing as the sorcerer left the room.

  *

  It was not only Tevi who needed sleep; Jemeryl felt drained by the previous day. She spent the rest of the morning dozing by the parlour fire in a battered old armchair while keeping one eye on the door to Tevi’s room.

  The blazing fire was purely for effect. Jemeryl did not need it to warm the room, but its light played cheerfully on the furnishings and the eclectic range of books, presents, and curios littering every horizontal surface. Jemeryl was by nature tidy in everything except her personal appearance. Somehow, the room had gained a life of its own, mostly due to the squirrels, who hated leaving anything where they found it. Any pretence at a formal reception room had vanished. The parlour was now cluttered, comfortable, and far less imposing than most citizens would ever imagine for a sorcerer’s home.

  Jemeryl’s gaze drifted over the treasured items scattered about the room. They held memories of the many nights she had spent there, reading in front of the fire and making plans. So much for planning. Even without Iralin’s intervention, meeting Tevi would have been a life-changing event, a node in the web of fate. But why? Jemeryl’s eyes fixed on the door to Tevi’s room. Was it to do with the quest or the woman herself?

  Jemeryl was aware that a soft grin was growing on her face as she thought of the warrior. She recalled the sight of Tevi snuggling down with the squirrel curled at her side . And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was envying that squirrel. Jemeryl shook her head in self-mockery. One step at a time, and remember, your career depends on this. You can’t afford to make mistakes. If she was to achieve her ambitions within the Coven, she was going to have to fit in with Iralin’s schemes.

  Klara had been asleep on the back of the chair, tired after her nightlong vigil. At this point, she awoke and hopped onto Jemeryl’s wrist. “Have I missed anything exciting?”

  “No.”

  “How’s the patient?”

  “Sleeping.”

  Klara looked towards Tevi’s room. “She doesn’t seem too bad. Far better house-trained than you expect for a woman warrior, and I’m sure I heard her attempt a few polysyllabic words.”

  “Oh, I don’t think she’s stupid.”

  “Except when it comes to basilisks.”

  “We all make mistakes.” Jemeryl groaned. “I know I have.”

  “So how do you feel now about going on this quest with her?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “But you’re quite happy with Tevi as company?” Klara’s voice was deliberately innocent.

  Jemeryl gave her familiar a long, cynical stare. She knew exactly what Klara was implying. “I don’t have a problem with Tevi. It’s Iralin and the rest of the Coven seniors I want to incinerate. They’re playing silly games. If they want me to join in, I wish they’d explain the rules first, rather than treating me like a football.”

  “They’re probably making them up as they go along.”

  Jemeryl’s frown deepened. “The attack of foresight when I first saw Tevi is the worrying bit. The Coven seniors have been poking about with fate, not just casting oracles. You don’t get a rupture in time like that from merely asking questions.”

  “What do you think they were after?”

  “I’d say they were trying to affect the outcome of events triggered by my meeting Tevi. As for why...” Jemeryl finished her sentence with a shrug. “They certainly left an ugly patch job behind.”

  “I noticed.”

  Jemeryl stroked the magpie’s head. “You saw something in there that really upset you.”

  Klara said nothing. Jemeryl did not want her to. She was determined to resist the temptation to probe the magpie’s memory. Klara had screamed in terror at something seen when they blundered into the ragged temporal discontinuity. More than just Jemeryl’s dislike of prophecy stopped her from trying to find out what.

  There was a fable, probably apocryphal, told to all young sorcerers. It concerned two brothers who went to consult the oracle at Kradja. They had only one question to ask, “Where will we die?”, intending never to visit the place named. The oracle had replied, “In Kradja.” Both brothers immediately attempted to flee the town. In his panic, the brother in the lead slipped and fell on the temple steps, breaking his neck. The other saw the accident and stopped, realising the futility of escape. He settled in Kradja, took a partner, made his life there, and prospered. He died there decades later, after a long and successful life, surrounded by friends and family.

  Even if it never happened, the moral was sound. No matter what fate might dictate, the greatest chance of tragedy lay in trying to evade it. Klara had seen something bad. If it was inevitable, it was best not to know. Jemeryl’s expression was grim. Iralin was the one who had told her the fable many years ago, when Jemeryl was a fresh novice. If the senior sorcerers were trying to rewrite destiny, it meant something very important was involved.

  “So why not tell me what it is? Do they think I’ll work better if I don’t know what I’m doing?” Jemeryl glared into the fire, feeling like a pawn. “I never did trust oracles. I bet they’ve had some vague prediction and are even more confused than me.”

  Klara bobbed her head in agreement and then tilted it to one side. “But it could be worse. As I said, Tevi doesn’t seem to be too bad, does she?”

  Jemeryl’s anger faded as a slow smile crossed her face. “No, she doesn’t seem too bad at all.”

  Chapter Twel
ve—Old Legends

  It was definitely a day for being lazy. Midafternoon, Jemeryl was still sprawled in her chair, the bears asleep at her feet. Ruff’s ribs were serving as a footstool and Klara was perched on the armrest, adding her contribution as Jemeryl indulged in idle speculation about the quest.

  “She might have to kill a monster,” Klara said.

  “More likely has to find something.”

  “Such as?”

  “It would have to be important.”

  “Obviously. Iralin’s hardly likely to think Tevi needs you along if she’s just popped out to get a couple of cabbages.”

  “It could be a person she’s looking for.”

  The sound of a door opening interrupted the debate. Sorcerer and magpie simultaneously turned towards the source. Tevi stood in the entrance to her room. The low winter sun was falling square on the window behind her. Its rays streamed out around Tevi, lighting her in silhouette.

  “Madam Jemeryl?” Tevi asked dubiously, as if afraid of what else might answer.

  “I’m here.”

  Jemeryl studied her guest for a moment longer before rising to guide her to a chair by the fire. The young squirrel bounced onto the warrior’s lap as soon as she was seated, evidently feeling that it had made a true friend. It never seemed to occur to any squirrel that it might not be wanted. Tevi, on the other hand, although looking much better for the sleep, was uneasy.

  “I am very grateful for your help, ma’am. I hope I haven’t...” Tevi had obviously taken time to reflect on the status of Coven sorcerers.

  Jemeryl stopped her. “There’s no need to thank me. In fact, you could argue that it’s my fault you were hurt in the first place. And forget the ma’am bit. Jemeryl will be fine, or you can call me Jem. My friends do.”

  “While her enemies call her much more interesting things,” Klara added.