Caught in Crystal: A Lyra Novel (18 page)

“Wise advice, if I were considering making the trip to the Tower for you,” Kayl said, nettled. “But I’ve already told you the same thing I told Corrana—I’m not going anywhere near the place.’”

“If that is true,” Elder Mother Dalessi said gently, “why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” Kayl said, half to herself. “I don’t know.”

“Then you had best find out, and quickly. You cannot choose well if you do not know the wishes of your own heart.”

Kayl nodded but did not reply, and after a moment Dalessi turned the conversation to other things. Kayl told her more of the details of her fifteen years since leaving the Sisterhood; Dalessi spoke of women Kayl had grown up with, scattered now to other Star Halls. Finally Kayl sat back. “I’m afraid I should go. Mark and Dara will be wondering what’s become of me, and we should find out whether Glyndon has found rooms for us yet.”

Dalessi’s eyebrows rose. “You will not be staying at the Star Hall? You would be welcome.”

Kayl hesitated, tempted. Then she shook her head. “Some would welcome me, perhaps, but not all. And I think the children would be happier elsewhere.”

“Perhaps you are wise,” Dalessi said after a moment. “I will not press you.” She rose and started for the gong, but Kayl waved her back.

“Does the senior drillmaster still room on the east side of the inner court? Then I can find my own way.”

“Very well. I have duties to return to. But come again tomorrow, and ask for me.” Dalessi embraced Kayl, then let her go to find her children.

M
ARK AND DARA WERE RIGHT
where Kayl had expected to find them—in the inner courtyard with Eshora, the Shee drill-master. What Kayl hadn’t expected was the crowd of students grouped around them. Kayl stopped, stricken with sudden nostalgia as she heard the drillmaster’s voice: “Cut left! and right! Step into your swing!” She started forward again, and the students fell back before the pale gray of her robe.

In the center of the ring of onlookers, Mark and Dara stood facing Eshora. They each held one of the weighted practice swords, and they were running through one of the standard exercise patterns. Eshora watched the children with cool, bright eyes that noted every hesitation, every misstroke, every flaw. Her own weapon swung smoothly, seemingly without effort, as befitted a senior drillmaster. Dara was frowning in concentration as her practice sword wove through the air; Mark, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying himself.

Kayl stepped forward, to the edge of the invisible circle that separated the onlookers from those who were drilling. Eshora did not appear to see her, but at the end of the next repetition she gave the signal to halt. Mark and Dara lowered their swords, panting. Dara saw Kayl, and a brief smile flashed across her face.

Mark’s attention was still on Eshora. “Well?” he said impatiently when she did not speak.

“You need more practice on the fourth figure,” Eshora said. She raised her eyes and glanced dispassionately around the circle of watching students. Her expression did not change, but the onlookers began to melt rapidly away.

“Is that all you’re—” Mark stopped suddenly to glare at Dara, who had sidled up to him and poked him in the ribs. Dara jerked her head in Kayl’s direction, and Mark turned. “Mother! Did you see us?”

“I saw the last repetition,” Kayl said.

“We could do it again,” Mark offered eagerly, though he was still breathing hard.

“I think not,” Eshora said. “Take your swords back to the arming room. There will be no more practice for you today. At least, not here.”

Mark’s face fell, but he nodded and sketched a bow. The children trudged off toward a nearby doorway. When they were out of earshot, Kayl asked, “And what
did
you think of their performance?”

“I think your son needs more practice on the fourth figure,” Eshora said. She studied Kayl coolly for a moment, then half-smiled. “You trained them yourself?”

“As well as I could. Teaching was never my field.”

“So I have heard.” Eshora’s tone was expressionless, but her slanted eyes held green glints of amusement. “Still, you seem to have done as well as anyone could have.”

“What do you mean?” Kayl demanded, nettled by the implied criticism of her children.

Eshora shrugged. “The girl has no talent for the sword. She may, if she works hard, achieve a minor competence, but no more. I doubt that the stars will send her the sword when she stands in the Court. She’ll have to make do with one of the magic-related specialties, if she can.”

“Dara is not of the Sisterhood,” Kayl said sharply. “Nor will she be.”

“Indeed. Your son, on the other hand, has promise. Were he one of my students, I would have him carefully watched and trained. It’s a pity he’s not a girl; he could have become a real asset to the Sisterhood. But then, your children are not of the Sisterhood, nor will they be.” Eshora’s voice was faintly mocking.

The return of the children spared Kayl the necessity of a direct reply. Instead she thanked the drillmaster gravely and shepherded Mark and Dara back through the marble halls to the street. She paid little attention to their chatter; her mind was busy with the implications of the conversation just passed.

Why had she reacted so strongly to Eshora’s assumption that Dara would be entering the Sisterhood of Stars? Surely it was reasonable enough, especially when Dara wore the robes of a student and Mark did not. And the life the Star Halls offered was not a bad one. Yet Kayl knew with sudden certainty that it was not a life she wanted for her daughter.

The thought disturbed her. How could she consider returning to the Sisterhood if she would not consider letting Dara join it? And she was considering returning; the pleasant hour spent with Dalessi and the familiar sights and sounds of the routine within the Star Hall had strengthened her longing for the place she had once called home. She shook her head. Dalessi’s dark hints were not particularly encouraging, Kayl reminded herself. And there was something else, something Eshora had said…

Abruptly it came to her. “She’ll have to make do with one of the magic-related specialties,” the drillmaster had said, with a tiny edge of contempt in her voice, as if the position of warrior held more honor or status than that of healer or sorceress or demon-friend. And the same assumption had been there when Eshora spoke regretfully of Mark as potentially “a
real
asset to the Sisterhood” because of his talent with weapons. Kayl frowned uneasily. Elder Mother Dalessi had spoken of changes in the Sisterhood, but could something so fundamental have altered so much in so short a time? The members of a Star Cluster were equals, bonded each to each; they had to be!

They had nearly reached the outer courtyard, and Kayl put her troublesome thoughts aside for more immediate worries. She found a Sister in a robe of medium gray and asked for the cloaks and packs they had left in the bathing rooms.

“They have been taken to your quarters, Your Virtue,” the woman replied.

“I would like them brought here,” Kayl said firmly. “We will not be staying at the Star Hall. And I am not an Elder Sister; you should not call me ‘Your Virtue,’” she added as an afterthought.

“But—” The woman hesitated, looking at Kayl’s pale gray robe and the star-hilted sword she wore. “Her Virtue, the Elder Sister Corrana, said you would be staying here.”

“Corrana should have learned by this time not to make assumptions,” Kayl said. “Will you please bring our things, or must we fetch them ourselves?”

“Elder Sister Corrana will not be pleased.”

Kayl swallowed a sharp comment to the effect that she had no interest in pleasing Corrana. This Sister had done nothing to deserve the sharp edge of Kayl’s temper; besides, the woman was clearly worried that Corrana would blame her for Kayl’s defection. “You may tell Corrana that I discussed the matter with Elder Mother Dalessi,” Kayl said. “Her Serenity and I agreed that I and my children would not stay at the Star Hall, at least for a time.”

The Sister nodded, relief flickering across her face. Corrana would not openly question the will of an Elder Mother. She went briskly down the hall, and soon returned with the cloaks and packs. Kayl thanked her and was about to leave, when it occurred to her to ask whether anyone had left a message while she had been inside the Star Hall. Glyndon would not have tried to enter, but surely he would have sent someone to let her know where he was waiting.

The Sister directed her to a niche in the wall beside the door. On a waist-high shelf lay a bit of parchment, folded, with her name inscribed on the outside. The message within read, “The inn with the red star on the sign, in the street behind the library where the weavers work.” There was no signature, but the letters were after the Varnan fashion, with extra flourishes and curlicues wherever there was the slightest excuse for them. Kayl smiled, and led her children out into the street.

It took much longer to reach the inn than it should have, chiefly because Mark and Dara were still full of eager questions about everything they passed. Kayl saw no reason to hurry them. She answered as best she could, enjoying their enthusiasm, and she was surprised and sorry to see the sign of the red star dangling above the street a little way in front of them.

They found Glyndon in the front room of the inn. The place looked neat and prosperous, and Kayl felt a pang of regret for the lost inn in Copeham. She told herself not to be silly. She was still feeling the longing for the Sisterhood that had overcome her in the Star Hall; it was sheerest folly to begin longing for her old inn at the same time. The regret persisted. Kayl shook herself and crossed to Glyndon’s table.

Glyndon took them upstairs to their rooms, and there was a brief bustle of activity as the children dug through their packs to make certain various essential treasures had arrived intact. With a sigh of relief, Kayl unwrapped her cloak from her shoulders. Glyndon turned to say something to her, and his face froze.

For a moment, Kayl did not understand his reaction; then she realized that she was still wearing her star-sword and the pale gray robe the Sisters had given her. Glyndon turned away. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said over his shoulder.

“Glyndon, it’s not—” Kayl started, but he was already gone. Kayl scowled and shook her head; didn’t the man know her well enough to at least
say
something if he was upset? Well, she’d drag it out of him later, and explain what had happened. She turned her attention to cleaning up Mark and Dara in preparation for dinner; it was amazing how much dust and grime they had managed to pick up in the relatively brief time since their baths at the Star Hall. Particularly Mark.

Next, Kayl changed and made Dara do so as well. It would cause a stir for them to appear in the common room in the informal robes of the Sisterhood. Kayl found herself reluctant to leave her sword in the room, but there was nothing else to be done. The rapier would attract as much attention as the Sisters’ robe.

At last they descended the stairs. Glyndon was hunched over one of the tables, a heavy bowl sitting almost unnoticed in front of him. Kayl led the children over and sat down. Glyndon raised a hand, signaling, as the children took their places. “I would have had them bring something for you earlier, but I didn’t know how long you’d be,” he said. “I was afraid it would get cold.”

“You’d do as well to get a fresh bowl for yourself,” Kayl said. “The fat’s already hardening around the edges.”

The innkeeper arrived, and Glyndon asked for four bowls of the stew. As the man left, Mark sighed in satisfaction. “The best part of traveling is having other people bring you supper,” he said.

“No, it isn’t!” Dara contradicted. “It’s seeing all kinds of new things and meeting new people and… and everything!”

“And what kinds of new things have you been seeing today?” Glyndon asked.

Mark and Dara needed no further encouragement to launch into a highly colored description of their visit to the Star Hall. Kayl let their voices wash over her unheeded as her thoughts returned again to the puzzle of the Sisterhood. Something was very wrong in the Star Halls, but what?

“—and then she said she wouldn’t want to call anyone the wrong name, and I said I’d think about it,” Mark said. “Mother, why did she think it was so important?”

“Who?”

“That Serenity person we met at the Star Hall, the one in the silver robe.”

“You mean Elder Mother Dalessi?” Kayl asked.

Mark nodded. “Why did she think my name was so important?”

“It has to do with the way the Sisterhood of Stars uses magic,” Kayl said. “Do you want the whole explanation right now?”

Mark and Dara nodded as one; Dara’s eyes were wide.

“All right, then. There are four… specialties within the Sisterhood. I was a warrior, a sword-bearer; the other three are sorceress, demon-friend, and healer, and each of those uses magic.”

“What’s a demon-friend?” Mark asked.

“A friend of the Changed Ones, the
sklathran’sy,
” Kayl replied with a smile. “Most people outside the Sisterhood refer to them as demons.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s easier to say,” Dara said.

“Partly,” Kayl said. “But you’re getting ahead of things. Now, magic works best if it is focused somehow. That’s what spells and chants do for magicians; they focus the power on what the magician wants to do. But it also helps if there is a channel for the power to flow through, and that can be almost anything—a ring, a clasp, a circlet, anything.”

“Like Glyndon’s staff!” Dara said.

Glyndon looked startled, but answered readily enough, “Yes. Most Varnan wizards use a staff or a rod as a channel; I suppose I’ve never gotten out of the habit.”

“What does the Sisterhood use?” Mark asked.

“Names,” Kayl said, and smiled at his expression. “It takes a great deal of training, and some very special spells. And even then, if the stars don’t aid the effort, it fails. But if the spells succeed, a sorceress’s power is tied to her name, forever.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Dara said with a shiver. “I mean, couldn’t someone who knew your name be able to use it somehow?”