The Armor of Light

by Karen E. Hoover

  As she finished, her stomach grumbled once again. She’d hardly eaten all day, and what little food had been placed before her, she’d dumped on Brant’s head. She shook her head, then wondered if the kitchens were still open and if anyone would care if she ate in her sleeping robe.

  Well, there was only one way to find out.

  Kayla picked up her bag with the flutes in it, and exited the room. She made her way barefoot down the walkway, then down the stone stairs and into the dining room and sat at a table.

  The same girl who had taken her order earlier approached, a slight smirk on her face. Kayla ignored it. “Can I help you, miss? The kitchen is about to close, but there are plenty of leftover bits from before. I’m sure you’re starving.”

  Kayla reddened. Evidently her little run in with Brant hadn’t gone unnoticed. She decided to be honest with the girl. “What is your name?”

  The girl’s smirk blossomed into a full smile. “Wendalyn,” she answered with a curtsy.

  “Wendalyn,” Kayla said, “I have an appetite like a horse. Maybe a pig.” The girl giggled. “I eat more than three men put together, and I am famished. If you put it in front of me, I will eat it. I don’t want your chef to go to any trouble, but if he has leftovers of a bunch of different things, if you could just bring them all out, I’d be ecstatic.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “All of it?”

  Kayla nodded. “All of it. I am not lying when I say I am famished. I need a lot of food and I need it now. Oh! And cider or grape juice would be fantastic. Just not milk.” She shivered. “I hate milk.”

  Wendalyn giggled again. “And now I know why you dumped it on that young man’s head. I’ll get some bread, cheese, and cider to get you started, then see what the cook has left.”

  “Thank you,” Kayla said. The girl curtsied once again and almost ran to the kitchen. Kayla tapped her foot while she waited, but it wasn’t for long. True to her word, the waitress was back with cold food almost as quickly as she left, and she didn’t bring just a glass of cider—she brought an entire pitcher. Kayla could have kissed her for that alone.

  An entire loaf of light bread and rich cheese were gone in a matter of minutes, but as she finished, Wendalyn appeared with three plates of food. One had several types of meat arranged on it, another had vegetables, and the last had more bread and cheese. Kayla kept eating. The meat was nearly as good as T’Kato’s, though without the spice.

  The girl refilled the pitcher of cider, and every time Kayla cleared a plate, Wendalyn brought another. Kayla hadn’t eaten so much since the night Brant’s father had thrown the ball in her honor. She had just about stuffed herself when the girl returned to collect plates and brought one final dish full of dessert. “That’s all there is,” Wendalyn said, almost apologetically.

  Kayla leaned back and rubbed her stomach. “That’s all right. I don’t think I could fit much more anyway. I am about as full as I can get.”

  The girl set the plate down and gathered up the dishes. “I hadn’t believed you when you said you could eat as much as three men. Where do you put it? You’re so small!” She glanced at Kayla, then quickly away.

  Chuckling, Kayla answered, “My father is Evahn. I guess it’s part of his heritage.” She took a bite of cheesecake with fresh berries on top. It was heavenly. “Your cook is very good. Tell him I said thank you.”

  Wendalyn nodded. “Certainly, though it’s not a him. It’s my mother. My father runs the lodging and my mother the kitchens.” She wiped the table with a rag for a moment, then asked, “Your father truly is Evahn?”

  Kayla nodded. “He is. I haven’t seen him since I was but a girl, but yes, he married my human mother. Most of me is very human, but my appetite and my ears seem to come from him.” Kayla couldn’t believe she was telling the girl this.

  Wendalyn looked like she wanted to sit down and just talk with Kayla, but she didn’t. “I’ve never met an evahn before,” she said, her arms now loaded with all the dishes.

  “I’m only half-Evahn, but it’s better than nothing, right?” Kayla laughed. She was surprised at herself. Again, laughing at her heritage had never been her nature. She’d hated being different her entire life. What was it about this girl that made her open up so?

  An older woman came out of the kitchen, her red hair pulled back in a bun. She had a cup of some kind of steaming drink in her hand as she approached Kayla’s table. When she got close enough, she called out to the girl, who was obviously her daughter. “Wendalyn, are you talking this girl’s ear off?”

  The serving girl blushed, then left with all the dishes piled in her arms. The cook set the cup down in front of Kayla. “A little thank you for taking all the leavings off my hands. I would have had to feed them to the pigs in the morning, and I hate wasting food like that.”

  “I think you just did,” Kayla answered, rubbing her waist. The woman tried not to laugh, but finally let it out. Kayla picked up the cup of steaming brown liquid and sniffed. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s not coffee or tea.”

  Wendalyn’s mother grinned. “We brew it from a soft bean that grows in these parts. Similar to coffee, but it tastes nothing like it. And it will help you sleep.” She tapped the side of her nose. “Always a good thing after upsetting evenings.”

  Great. Even the cook knew about her fight with Brant. She took a sip of the drink and her taste buds erupted. Forget about dessert—the drink was divine. Better than anything she’d ever had. Sweet, but not overly so, and lightened with cream. She downed the cup in only a few swallows before asking, “What is this?”

  Wendalyn’s mother chuckled. “We call it hot chocolate. Isn’t it amazing?”

  Kayla couldn’t help but agree. Just then she felt the effect of all the food, and probably the hot chocolate, hitting her. She was exhausted. She scooted back her chair and stood, but before she left, she turned to the woman and said, “You are a fantastic cook, and believe me, I’ve tasted some of the best. Thank you for your hospitality and for feeding me tonight. It fed more than my body, let me assure you. You and your daughter have fed my soul. Thank you,” she said, and stretched out her hand.

  The woman smiled, took Kayla’s hand and stood herself, then, impulsively, she threw her arms around Kayla. She stiffened at first, then slowly, she returned the hug. When the woman released her, Kayla looked at the cook, and her daughter, who had returned by then. “I don’t know what it is about the two of you, but you have a gift, one I’ve been in need of for too long. Thank you for easing my pain tonight.” Mother and daughter looked at one another, both reddening as if they’d been caught doing something wrong. Kayla reassured them as she turned to go. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. But thank you again.” She put her hands together in front of her, touched her forehead, and bowed. It was the evahn gesture for gratitude and there was no higher form of praise. Somehow these two women knew that and held hands, their heads bowing in response.

  Kayla turned to go and made her way up to her room, though she became more tired with each step. She got her door open, locked it behind her, and dropped the flute bag in the corner behind the door. Someone had come in and made the bed up for her, and rather than resentment, all she felt was gratitude that she wouldn’t have to do one more thing before sleeping. She almost felt drugged. Too much food is apt to do that to a person.

  Without another thought or care, she crawled between the sheets and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Kayla wasn’t sure how long she was in her dreamless state before the noise woke her. Before her eyes opened, she knew someone was in the room. She went immediately from sleep to alert without any of the confusion that usually accompanies a sudden awakening.

  She stayed completely still, trying to feel with her newfound power where this intruder was, who he was, before she moved. She debated whether to call out for Brant or T’Kato, but she knew somehow that by the time they arrived in her room with its locked door, she would be dead. No, she would have
to handle this on her own.

  Somehow.

  She was really starting to wish she had taken T’Kato up on his offer to teach her how to fight with a knife, though it would do her no good. The knife was with the flutes, and she remembered dropping the bag behind the door when she came in.

  When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw him—the figure of a man squatting down in the corner behind her door, rummaging through her things. Her heart beat faster as he pulled out the case of the Sapphire Flute. She knew what he was looking for now, but she couldn’t let him have it any more than she could let C’Tan have it. She prepared herself by tapping into the flute’s power. She’d done it before, though she didn’t know how or why it was possible. She had a plan in place. She would tackle the man from behind and scream her lungs out to draw attention. She hoped she’d be able to turn the bolt to unlock the door as she approached.

  She sat up slowly, drawing the covers back, and tensed her body, ready to leap, when the thief flipped the latch on the flute and opened the case. His back was to Kayla, but she could see the blue glow shining upon him, and she saw that he wore a mask.

  The deep blue glow touched his face, almost probing and carressing him. Kayla could see the moment the flute realized it lay in a stranger’s hands. The blue glow turned an angry white and pulled back like a snake about to strike. The thief seemed oblivious, basking in the glow of the instrument. It gathered energy that made Kayla’s hair stand with the static charge, and then it struck, pushing against the thief with strength Kayla knew was humanly impossible. He dropped the flute when it picked up the man and threw him out the open window, where he sailed over her drying clothes and onto the roof and then the ground below. That was the first Kayla knew the window was open, and she realized he must have come into her room that way.

  She heard him tumble from one surface to another and was too shocked to even chuckle as he groaned from far below. Instead, she ran and leaned over the balcony to try to catch a glimpse of the intruder, but he was gone. She looked at the distance he had fallen and the cracked tiles where he hit the roof on the level below. He shouldn’t have survived the fall. There was something strange and wrong in that the man fell so far and left alive. She only hoped he would limp the following day so she could discover him that way.

  She turned from the balcony and clambered back through the window, and went directly to the flute. The case was still open, the bluish-white energy still surrounding the instrument as if it were angry and grumbling. At least, that’s what she would have thought, had it been human. She picked up the case and carried it to her bed, then lay back down with the instrument, her fingers gently trailing over the smooth crystal. Slowly, its color changed from near-white back to its original deep sapphire blue, and once it felt calm, she closed the case and latched it, then wrapped her arms around it and quickly went back to sleep with the song of the flute in her ears.

  The next morning, Kayla awoke with the birds singing and the sunlight streaming through her open window. She stretched and yawned, her elbow bumping the case of the Sapphire Flute. She wondered what it was doing in her bed, and then she remembered. The intruder. That woke her up quicker than anything else could and in moments, she had collected her dry clothing from the bannister and changed from her night robe. Putting on her Ketahean-style clothing made her miss Sarali all of a sudden. The girl had become such an integral part of her life, and it just didn’t seem right to be running off on a quest without her.

  Still, it could not be helped. The world was falling apart, and Kayla held one of the keystones that would help to heal it. She needed to be on her way and find the Wolfchild so the healing could begin and she could go on with her life, though after the fight she’d had with Brant, she was no longer sure what that would be.

  Setting aside the heavy thoughts, she pulled on her boots, collected her satchel, and went downstairs. The dining room was nearly empty but for a small group of soldiers talking near the fire. Wendalyn was up and about already, carrying mead or ale to the soldiers in the corner. Kayla shook her head. She had never been one for drinking and the effect it had on others, but to start so early in the morning seemed like it should be illegal.

  The red-head stopped at Kayla’s table. “You’re back, I see. More of the same?” she asked.

  Kayla grinned. “Not quite so much, but yes, I’ll take whatever you’ve got, though I would love a half a dozen eggs, some kind of meat, and more of that lovely bread and cheese ought to do it. Oh, and the cider. It was fantastic.” She laughed. “I tell you to bring me whatever, and then I give you my order.” she shook her head. “Sorry about that.” The girl shook her head as she walked away, chuckling to herself. Kayla put her hands in her lap and watched the soldiers in the corner. The girl returned with the bread, cheese, and cider, just as she had the night before.

  The soldiers got louder in their conversation as the alcohol took effect, and Kayla couldn’t help but listen. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen the Shadow Weavers yet,” the oldest said to one of the others. “They leave us alone for the most part, unless they want something, but then all a man can do is get out of their way and let them have it. They will rip your heart out without a thought and steal any magic you may have.”

  “That’s impossible,” the youngest scoffed, slamming his drink down on the table. “No one can steal your magic.”

  The other soldiers looked at one another quietly, and one answered. “I used to have a charm I wore about my neck. Belonged to my gran and was passed down to me, since I’d been touched by the Guardians. A Weaver found me one night, and with a single reach of his hand, he ate my magic charm and left me with nothing but a silver clasp on a leather leash. I swear it on my mother’s grave, the Shadow Weavers can steal magic.”

  Most of the soldiers laughed. Kayla heard things like, “Superstitious old man,” and “Been hitting the spirits, that one has.” She almost felt sorry for him. The youngest looked thoughtful and not a little scared. The soldiers were mostly quiet after that, and Kayla inhaled her breakfast as quickly as she could. She wanted to find T’Kato and the others and warn Hadril and Graylin about the Shadow Weavers, if they hadn’t heard of them already. She would hate for anything to happen to her new friends.

  Wiping her mouth, she got up from the table, took up her bag, and walked out the front door of the inn, where she hoped they had parked the boxcar.

  Chapter Twenty

  C’Tan tapped her fingers against the sides of the scrying bowl, the water rippling back and forth with her disturbance. She was barely aware of it but for the patterns it caused to float beneath her eyes. It had been several hours since she’d sent out the call to her minions at the mage academy, and they had yet to respond. Could it really be that difficult to get some place private and contact her?

  There would be serious consequences for the delay. She smiled, though it never reached her eyes, she knew. It never did. She dropped the call stones into the rippling water, each plunk a slightly different tone as the bowl filled with the added mass. Once all the stones were in the water, C’Tan tried something different, something Kardon had taught her when he had been the master. She put the tips of her long, manicured fingers into the water and sent out a jolt of power that was supposed to travel through the stones and into her servants—a jolt of pain that should send them scurrying to their hiding places and put them in contact with her shortly.

  She was not disappointed.

  Within minutes, the first of her minions had connected to her council and his illusionary face floated, glaring, on the surface of the water. One by one they locked in, and within twenty minutes, all were there.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Dragon snarled when everyone was present in the council call. “I had to leave my students, claiming sickness to be here. Could this not have waited until evening?”

  “Yes,” Seer hissed. “I had to leave my station, also claiming sickness. It will not look well on my record, and then what will you do whe
n I am released from my position?”

  C’Tan silenced them with her fingers back in the bowl, the waves of pain she sent evident in their faces and in Shadow’s flickering cover. C’Tan caught glimpses of her daughter beneath the fog that hid her, and stopped when she felt she had their attention.

  “I have no desire to hear your complaints,” the mistress said quietly, but with no doubt she meant what she said. “When I call, you will answer, no matter what excuses or lies you must tell. You will answer me shortly and attentively. With silence,” she said, staring pointedly at Dragon, then Seer.

  “Now,” she continued, placing both hands on the side of the bowl and leaning in toward it, knowing the effect it would have on their vision, making her seem to be a huge floating head. It was an intimidation tactic Kardon had taught her, one that worked well.

  When she knew her face was ballooned large enough to fill a doorway, she stopped, her nose bare inches from the water’s surface, and glared. “With Ember having been attacked so recently, you need to speed up your conversion and keep her safe in the meantime. S’Kotos wants her in one piece.” This wasn’t entirely true. He would prefer her in one piece, but if he could claim the keystones for himself, he would no longer need her, and would not care if she lived. For some reason, C’Tan did.

  Master Dragon was, of course, the first to object. “She barely got here. How are we supposed to convert her when we haven’t even had time to build her trust in us yet, especially when they keep her from classes?”