Aunt Kyla added, “None of us is at full strength now. We have very little power to work with, and we must conserve what we have. So go, and hurry. Don’t waste time. Dreama needs that milk.”
Although she had misgivings about having let Renni accompany Veronica, Kyla found it a bit easier to breathe with two fewer people in the room. She hadn’t known about Renni’s farm background, wasn’t certain she believed the story. But if true, it would make it easier for Veronica to carry out her errand.
Marchion and Lore lifted Petros back onto his platform and wheeled it into a bedroom, where they hefted Petros onto the bed and arranged him comfortably. March returned to the living room, but Lore offered to stay in the room with Petros so he could alert the others if there was any change in the crippled man’s condition, and Kyla agreed that would be the best use of his time for the present.
In the meantime, before seeing what could be done about finding Ed and Marta, Kyla had to enlist someone for another unpleasant duty. It might as well be done while they were too weak to use the power they’d require for anything else.
So she gazed around the room and said, “Mayzie’s husband has to be told about her death. And the corpse will have to be cleaned up, because he’ll want to see her, and we can’t let him see her covered with blood. It’s really my responsibility to give him the sad news, but I don’t feel that I should be gone from here now. Is there—”
“I’ll go,” Leah said even before she could complete the request. “I’m not needed here. And Isham knows me and considers me a friend. I can talk to him more easily than anyone else.
Kyla nodded. “He should hear the news from a friend. I was Mayzie’s employer. That’s a different relationship. All right. Go ahead.”
Abigail stood, and Kyla feared she’d either object to Leah’s leaving or insist on going with her. Instead, the older woman said, “My clothes are already stained with Mayzie’s blood. I’ll clean her body and cover it. Then I’ll go home and change clothes and get back here. Leah, don’t let Isham come here too quickly. We need to spare his feelings as much as possible.”
“I’ll try to hold him back,” Leah said. “And poor little Bennie. How is Isham going to explain his mother’s death to a two-and-a-half-year-old?”
No one had an answer. Leah kissed Abigail and left the house. As soon as she was gone, Abigail went to perform her self-appointed task. Saying, “She’ll need help,” Winnie handed the now quiet Dreama to Zauna and followed Abigail.
Exhausted and heartsick, Kyla sank into a chair, leaned back, and closed her eyes, meaning to rest only a moment. Zauna was again seated before her crystal ball, gazing into it as she gently rocked Dreama, but saying nothing. Marchion had taken a seat in a straight wooden chair near Zauna, and Kyla supposed he was doing what he could to channel power to her to enhance her ability to find Ed and Marta in her crystal. If she did find them, Zauna would call out. Now it was blessedly quiet and deceptively peaceful, and without meaning to, Kyla nodded off into sleep.
She awakened with a start at the sound of loud bleats and yells and jumped to her feet, fearing to see another dread sight like that of Mayzie’s bloodied body. Marchion and Zauna stood staring out the window. Seeing them there, Kyla understood that the din was coming from outside the house, not inside. She hurried to the nearest window in time to see Renni and Veronica pulling a loudly complaining goat around the side of the house toward the back yard.
Dreama began to wail. “Soon, little one,” Kyla said, taking the babe from Zauna, “soon we’ll have milk for you.” She hoped that was true and that the child could tolerate the goat’s milk. Bouncing Dreama in her arms, she hurried through the kitchen and out the back door, where the girls were struggling with the unhappy goat.
“We’ll tie her to the tree,” Renni said, tugging the rope and heading for a tall pine near the rear gate. Then, as Kyla approached with Dreama, Renni called out, “Don’t get any closer. She’ll need to calm down before we can milk her.”
Kyla stopped and watched Renni wind the rope around the tree and tie it securely, while Veronica, looking disgruntled and disheveled, was too busy dodging the goat’s butting head to be of much help.
“This goat’s a demon. I’ve got the bruises to prove it,” Veronica yelled somewhat breathlessly. “I’m naming her Butter, ’cause that’s what she is.”
“She’s just nervous,” Renni said. “And it’s good I went along.” This last she directed to Kyla. “This dumb girl would have brought home a billy goat instead of a nanny. You’d think she’d have known the difference, but—”
“I would have seen that it was male,” Veronica interrupted, moving farther away from the goat. “You didn’t give me a chance. I was too busy trying not to get bitten or kicked to check its under parts.”
To Kyla’s relief both girls laughed, not really angry but enjoying the adventure. She couldn’t help thinking how easily their desperate situation faded from their minds. Triumph at their successful acquisition of the goat seemed to have banished danger from Jerome from their thoughts.
Then Renni proved her wrong by asking, “How’s Petros?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PERSUASION
Seated beside the bed on which Petros lay, Lore had time to think and plan as well as to recoup his strength. His part in Dreama’s rescue had left him tired and his power severely depleted. At least the rescue of the infant had succeeded, although he could not claim full credit for it. Ed had done as much as he had. And then Ed had returned to that strange and empty land. It galled Lore to contrast how quickly his strength had ebbed with how much of Ed’s remained. He would have to learn how to build up his gift, to make it more powerful.
He thought about the various members of the Gifted Community, weighing the gifts of each. Many of those Kyla had sent home had more power than those who stayed. He questioned the wisdom of that. Oh, that poor weakling, Winter Whatever-His-Name, was better off gone. His only ability was to feel other people’s emotions and get a headache from it. Lore didn’t see that he even belonged in the Gifted Community. But Trille, now, she had great power. Yet Kyla had let her waltz off without the slightest hesitation. Trille was a famous singer; she had pull. That had to be the reason Kyla’d let her go so easily.
And Camsen. The Honored Camsen Wellner. He had plenty of power, but he was scared to use it. Scared of losing his place among the priests of Ondin. Ran back to the temple with his tail between his legs. Why had the Power-Giver granted him so much power, when he didn’t want to use it? Lore didn’t understand why Kyla had even had him here officiating at the baby’s Naming-Day Ceremony. Was she afraid to cross the priests of the established religion—she who supposedly could communicate with the Power-Giver? Why should she and no one else interpret the Power-Giver’s will for the group? Didn’t anybody in the Community question that?
Yes, Kyla organized the Community and found the gifted ones. But she didn’t give the gifts. Bringing them, she called it. They came from the Power-Giver, she said. But Zauna Raye had been a fortuneteller long before Kyla arrived in Port-of-Lords, and he’d heard she’d done quite well at it. Professor Morence claimed that he had only discovered his gift of coercion on meeting Kyla, and he scarcely ever used it, but Lore had heard his students complain that he was arrogant and rude and no one liked him, neither students nor faculty, yet he boasted about being chairman of the Behavioral Sciences Department and in line for the position of dean. He’d already held that chairmanship when Kyla founded the Community. Lore was willing to bet that the good professor had used his gift of coercion to attain that position and would continue using it to be elevated even higher. It wasn’t a gift he’d acquired through Kyla. Maybe he’d used it subconsciously, not knowing what it was until Kyla revealed it, but it had been there all along.
As for his own gifts, it would never have occurred to him to attempt to bring an object to him just by concentrating on that object. However, he did recall that as a child playing alone while his parents were at
work, he had sometimes brought a small object that was out of reach close to him by willing it to move. At that young age he hadn’t known that the ability was unusual and not shared by others. Later, as schoolwork took up more of his time, leaving little opportunity for play, he’d forgotten about the ability or dismissed it as imagination. It must have been real. He’d had the gift from early childhood; Kyla hadn’t given it to him.
He’d point this out to Kyla, but now wasn’t the time, not when she was upset about the disappearance of her friends and the wet nurse’s killing. He did not want to anger her or turn her against him. Not when he could still learn so much from her.
He glanced at Petros. Still completely unconscious. Why waste time staying here with him? Enough time had gone by that the girls should be back from the market. He wanted to talk to Veronica about an idea he had for finding Marta and Ed.
Veronica flinched inwardly when Renni recounted the embarrassing incident of her nearly purchasing a male goat. She laughed along with Renni, and she was not sorry to see the story bring a smile to Kyla’s lips. But Veronica resented being made a fool of before Aunt Kyla, who still regarded her as a child. And as irresponsible.
After she’d tied the goat, Renni busied herself making certain it could reach plenty of grass for grazing. “I’ll milk her as soon as she calms down,” she told Kyla, eyeing the fussy baby in Kyla’s arms.
Not wanting to help with the goat, Veronica asked, “Have Ed and Marta returned?”
Aunt Kyla’s smile vanished. She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m terribly worried about them.”
“Well, what are you doing about it?” The question came out more sharply than Veronica intended. She didn’t really want to anger Aunt Kyla. But Kyla’s creased forehead told her she had.
“We’re letting our power build back up,” Kyla snapped. “Until it does, there’s nothing we can do, no matter how much we want to.”
Veronica knew she should drop the matter. Her own power had not fully returned, so she understood Aunt Kyla’s dilemma. That streak of what Aunt Abigail called “contrariness” kicked in and made her say, “Marchion Blandry is an enhancer. Shouldn’t you use him to—”
Kyla cut in, “He depleted his power feeding it to you and Abigail so you could heal Dreama. And to Abigail and you when you were trying to heal Mayzie.” Her sharp tone made Dreama let out loud wails.
“Didn’t do much good then, did it?” Veronica whirled away before Kyla could answer and slammed into the house. Mercifully, no one was in the kitchen. She stopped there to gather her thoughts.
She’d acted abominably, and she didn’t even know why. Could Jerome be feeding anger to her as he had before when she … No. She could not let that happen again. She loved Aunt Kyla. Aunt Kyla was like a mother to her. She should go right back outside and apologize.
She should. But she didn’t. She’d let Kyla’s anger cool a bit first. She walked slowly into the living room. Zauna was sitting at the table on which she’d placed her crystal ball, but she was slumped over, possibly asleep, certainly not gazing into the crystal. Marchion Blandry sat in a wing chair, and he most definitely was asleep. He let out a snore as Veronica neared. No one else was in the living room.
Thinking to go to her room, she tiptoed toward the hall door, but before she reached it, Lore came through it. He took in the sleepers in a quick glance and beckoned to Veronica. She approached and he stepped back into the hall. When she reached him, he whispered, “Come with me. I want to talk to you.”
She nodded and he led her into Kyla’s bedroom, where Petros lay. Someone had thrown a blanket over him. “We can talk here,” Lore said. “He won’t hear us.”
Hesitant to speak, she nodded again, not out of concern for the silent figure on the bed but because she felt uncomfortable in Lore’s presence. He was good-looking, with his dark, wavy hair, dark eyes with long lashes, his cleft chin, his warm smile. He was also, she reminded herself sternly, nine years older than she. To him she was just a kid. He wasn’t attracted to her. Why should he be? She wasn’t pretty. She was short for her age and overweight, with a plain face that impressed no one. Yet he’d called her in here. He wanted something from her. Something to do with power, no doubt. That was her one asset—her power. And it wasn’t always an asset. Quite the opposite—it scared off any boy her age who might possibly take an interest in her. She tried to keep it a secret, but there were times at school that without thinking she’d used her talent in what to her was a small way. But it had frightened people, word had gotten around that she was “odd” and could do things no normal person could do. And her classmates, most of them anyway, avoided her. She’d never had a boyfriend. A few girls were friendly toward her, but only in a distant sort of way. They wouldn’t share confidences with her as they did with one another. It had hurt when Renni laughed at her ignorance about the goat. She’d hoped she and Renni could be friends, despite the difference in their ages. After all, they were both gifted, so they had that in common. But maybe that wasn’t enough.
She seated herself on the stool in front of the vanity, Lore having plopped down in the only other chair, an armchair positioned by the bed on which Petros lay so still he could be taken for dead were it not for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Lore hadn’t spoken since they entered the room. He was regarding her with a speculative look that made her nervous. Tired of waiting for him to initiate the conversation, she said, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He took his time about answering, first giving her a friendly smile that did nothing to alleviate her suspicions although it did set her traitorous heart thumping wildly. Leaning back in his chair, he continued to gaze into her eyes from beneath the long, dark lashes that any girl would die for.
Finally he spoke. “I think you’re wondering just as I am why no one is doing anything.”
And she knew what he meant. She had been wondering exactly that. But she said, “Doing? Everybody’s doing something. Leah’s gone to give Mayzie’s husband the news about her death. Abigail and Winnie are trying to make Mayzie’s body presentable so Isham can see her when he comes. Renni and Kyla are looking after the goat and getting milk for Dreama. And Petros has sent his consciousness into Ed—that I know for a fact. And either he can’t or isn’t ready to come back to his body, but I’m sure he’ll have a lot to tell us when he does.”
“If he can get back,” Lore said in a calm, measured tone, all the while gazing at her, as patient as a cat stalking a bird.
He seemed to know what she was thinking. He wasn’t a mind reader—was he? She thought she knew his gifts. She’d read the notes Aunt Kyla wrote to keep track of the abilities of each Community member. Lore could bring an object to him or send it to another person, so long as he knew that person’s location. Also, he could transfer himself from one place to another, but that ability was limited to a short distance—or so Kyla had believed. Now Veronica wondered whether it had been Ed’s power alone that had transferred him and Lore to Ed’s ravaged land.
Lore subsided into silence while Veronica thought things through. “So what is your point, Lore?” she asked at last.
“My point is that those things you listed may be important, but not as important as getting Ed and Marta back. No one is doing anything about that.”
“We don’t know that they can’t get back on their own,” Veronica said without conviction. “We don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Shouldn’t we be trying to find out?”
“Zauna is looking into her crystal.”
“Zauna.” Lore gave a snort of disgust. “Who knows what she really sees in that globe—if anything. Even if she sees them, which she apparently hasn’t, is that going to get them back?”
“Knowing where to look would give us a starting place.”
“We know enough. We know it’s somewhere in that place Ed says he created, or thinks he did.”
Veronica didn’t fail to notice that Lore tended to denigrate other people’s powers. Yet s
he couldn’t help agreeing with him. No one was doing anything to find Marta and Ed and rescue them if they needed rescuing. Which she suspected they did.
“Kyla will act as soon as her power rebuilds,” she said, repeating the excuse she had been given when she’d made the same complaint Lore was voicing.
“You have power. A lot of it,” Lore observed. “Is it depleted?”
“It was. After we healed Dreama. And I haven’t rested. But going with Renni to get the goat gave it time to build up a bit.”
“And I rested while you were doing that,” Lore said. “I’d spent a lot of my power helping Ed rescue Dreama, but just sitting in here keeping watch over Petros was relaxing even though I didn’t sleep. I don’t think it takes as long to restore power as Kyla seems to think. I’ll bet hers has built back up, too.”
“If it had, she’d say so.”
“Would she?” At her frown he added quickly, “Oh, I’m sure she would, but she’s concerned about Dreama, about getting milk for her. And she’s keeping Renni busy with that. And no one else will do anything until Kyla tells them what to do.”
Veronica didn’t miss his implication. No one else—but the two of them. “So what do you suggest we do?” she asked.
“Ah, that’s the question I’ve been waiting for,” he said, that warm smile illuminating his face. “I think you and I have the power between us to get to that world, whether or not it’s truly Ed’s world, and find Ed and Marta.”
She frowned. “We might, but if Jerome has them …” She shuddered. “You haven’t seen what Jerome can do. I have.”
The smile left his face. “I saw Mayzie. Saw her bleed to death from the way he sliced her open. That gives me a fairly good idea of what he’s capable of. That’s exactly why I think we shouldn’t be wasting time. And I thought—hoped—you’d feel the same way.”
A Mix of Magics (Arucadi: The Beginning Book 3) Page 8