Dagger's Edge (Shadow series) (7 page)

“Reform it how?” Jael blurted out the words before she thought, then flushed with embarrassment. Her embarrassment doubled when she realized that Urien was still holding her hand, but she couldn’t see a polite way of pulling away from him.

“The Temple of Baaros is a small mercantile sect with temples in only a few cities,” Urien said smoothly. “Interfering in local politics is beyond our scope and contrary to the very interests of the temple—recruiting worshippers from the merchant class. For our temples to prosper and grow, we need the goodwill of the cities. I assure you that Ankaras went far beyond his authority in promoting treasonous sentiments. The temple in Loroval sent me to assume leadership of the temple here and rectify the problem.”

“I see the table is ready,” Argent said politely. “Why don’t you tell us about it over supper, Lord Urien?”

“I would be delighted.” Urien bowed. “May I have the honor of escorting your lovely daughter to the table?”

Donya and Argent exchanged surprised glances, which Jael vastly enjoyed—still a child, indeed!—and Argent finally smiled a little hesitantly.

“Of course, Lord Urien.”

Urien’s eyes twinkled again at Jael as if they had just shared a private joke, and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

“—so as far as we can tell, the whole difficulty with the elves came from the trade war in Loroval, not from actual temple doctrine,” Urien said, nodding to the serving maid offering another serving of roast fowl. “Since most of the priests, including Ankaras, were Loroval merchants, you can see how that sentiment found its way into the sect. The temple’s never tried very vigorously to stamp out such teachings because in many cities the elves stay aloof from the human settlement anyway, so it’s never become a problem until now. But you can be assured that if Ankaras can’t adjust, I’ll replace him myself until such time as a new High Priest can be trained. Having a temple in such a large trade city as Allanmere is very important to us, and I’m prepared to settle here as long as is necessary to see it done properly.” He turned to Jael. “More wine, Lady Jaellyn?”

“Thank you,” Jael said, although inwardly she winced. She’d already had three goblets full despite the price she’d pay later; she was positively
not
going to drink fruit juice like a child with this charming lord sitting next to her!

“I’ll have to locate appropriate lodging, of course,” Urien said. “I have a small retinue with me, a few lesser priests and acolytes. There isn’t sufficient room at the present temple, I’m told, and inns don’t suit me.”

“There are a few large houses in the Noble District for sale,” Jael said. “I know where most of them are.”

“Then perhaps if your parents can arrange a suitable escort,” Urien said, bowing his head slightly to Argent and Donya, “and if they will permit, I would be very grateful if you would be so gracious as to help us.”

Donya’s dark brows had drawn down ominously when Jael had spoken, but her frown cleared as soon as Urien mentioned escorts.

“A few of the Castle Guard should suffice,” Argent smiled, patting Donya’s arm. “And in the meantime I’m sure we can provide housing for you and at least part of your retinue here.”

Urien inclined his head again.

“Rumors of the graciousness of the High Lord and Lady of Allanmere have not been exaggerated,” Urien said politely.

Jael downed the last swig of her wine rather defiantly. At last
that
was done.

Urien glanced at her goblet and started to raise his hand for the wine steward; then he glanced at Jael and lowered his hand. He hurriedly swallowed the last sip of his own wine and leaned slightly toward Argent at his left.

“You must pardon me,” Urien said in a lowered voice. “It’s rather embarrassing, but I find too much wine hinders my digestion. Might I trouble you for a digestive tea instead? My valet brought some for me.”

“Gladly.” Argent nodded to one of the maids, who hurried to the kitchen.

“Have you met with High Priest Ankaras yet, Lord Urien?” Donya asked interestedly.

“Not yet,” Urien said, smiling ruefully. “I don’t imagine he will take the news well. Since it was your message which brought me, High Lady, I thought it best to come directly to you to assure you that regardless of Ankaras’s reaction to the orders I bring, you will have no further difficulties from the Temple of Baaros.”

“I appreciate the generosity of the temple in sending a representative so far to help us,” Argent said, “and your kindness in being willing to travel so far. Ah, your tea.” The serving maid had materialized as if by magic. Argent waved her around to Urien’s seat.

Urien leaned toward Jael, winking surreptitiously.

“Calidwyn black tea is renowned, Lady Jaellyn. Would you care to try some?”

Jael grinned inwardly. So this whole thing had been a maneuver to get the tea for
her,
as she had suspected. But he’d done it in a charming way, if rather obvious, to save her embarrassment.

Jael accepted a cup of the hot tea, surprised at the intense, richly fragrant flavor. After the first cup she found herself craving another, and to her surprise, her stomach settled immediately. If it weren’t for the castle mages, who checked every morsel of food or drink before it passed into the castle, and again before it reached the table, Jael would have suspected that some kind of potion had been added.

“Lord Urien, why don’t you dress like a priest?” Mera asked. “All the priests I’ve seen have given up their Houses and titles.”

Donya gave her daughter a chiding look, but Urien appeared undisturbed by the question.

“First, although I have the rank of a High Priest,” Urien told her, “I’ve served in Calidwyn primarily as an administrator of the temple for the last few years, managing its funds and dealing with city officials and other temples in any conflict. Secondly, Lady Mera, Baaros allows His priests to retain their standing in their House if there is no other heir, as is true of my family. Baaros wishes the mercantile Houses to prosper, not fail, by joining His priesthood.”

“Is that trade goods you brought in the caravan?” Markus asked interestedly.

“Trade goods, supplies for the temple, and my personal belongings,” Urien told him. “As I said before, I came prepared to stay for as long as necessary. There should be room at the temple to store my goods until I can make other arrangements. Tomorrow, however, I’ll spend the day with Ankaras, reviewing the temple records and working out a gradual change in doctrine so we don’t lose our acolytes and our base of worshippers. This business of the elves I’ll change immediately, but the rest will have to be more gradual. Fortunately I heard on my way through town that the Lesser Summoning was a dramatic success. That’ll help us hold our worshippers until the Grand Summoning at least, and by that time I hope to have the temple running a little more effectively.”

He shook his head.

“You must pardon me. I’m addressing you like a group of acolytes to be instructed. Forgive me.”

“Not at all,” Jael said. “I think it’s very interesting.” She accepted another cup of the tea.

“Well, I’m sure we will all be interested in hearing more later,” Donya said, rising from the table. “But our guest is undoubtedly tired from his long journey. Lord Urien, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your rooms, and Argent can see what he can find for your men.” She glanced briefly at Jael, Markus, and Mera. “You children are excused.”

Jael’s face flamed.
Children?
Jael stood numbly as Donya, Argent, and Urien walked from the room, Urien glancing back to give her an apologetic shrug.

As soon as Donya, Argent, and Urien were out of sight, Jael stormed back up to her room. She tore off the tunic and trousers and flung them in a corner, jerking her old clothes back on.
Children.
Jael flounced angrily onto the bed on her stomach. Twenty years old and dismissed as a child. Wasn’t that just like High Lady Donya? When she skipped her lessons,
You ‘re too old to act like a child, Jaellyn.
But
You children are excused
when—

—when—

All right, when handsome young lords seemed to be paying attention to her! That was the song, verse and chorus, wasn’t it! Someone new and interesting had come to Allanmere, and High Lady Donya and High Lord Argent didn’t like the fact that this stranger was paying attention to their
child.

Too angry to sleep, Jael slipped outside and up the walls to her thinking place, dragging along a fur to keep her warm. She curled up in the stone niche, somehow more comfortable here than in her room, warm in the fur. She stared out at the edge of the Heartwood, wishing that somehow Aunt Shadow would materialize again. Aunt Shadow never called her a
child.
Grandma Celene, too, would never condescend in such a way. But there was no use; Aunt Shadow and Celene wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning at least, probably later.

It would have been nice if she could have made it through the Gate before Father had come in. Still, it was almost worth it, meeting Lord Urien. With any luck he’d be at breakfast tomorrow. He’d be at the temple all day as he said, but perhaps he’d be back for supper.

Jael took out the puzzle Shadow had given her and examined the small, neat pieces in the moonlight. The smooth volcanic glass felt good in her hand and sparkled prettily in the moonlight, and she liked the neat way in which the pieces fit together. With almost disappointing ease, Jael found the way to fit the pieces together to form a cube. Reluctant to put the game aside, Jael experimented and found that by assembling the pieces in another manner, she could form a pyramid, then an oblong box, instead of a cube. Delighted with her unexpected success, Jael played with the pieces late into the night. As Shadow had told her, it was concentrated work; at last, Jael drifted off to sleep, the pieces still clutched comfortingly in her hand.

Jael snuggled more cozily into her comfortable nook, wishing the stone were a little softer, yawning.

Perhaps soon she’d show them all that she was no
child.

^III

Jael yawned and stretched as best she could in the cramped space. For a moment she was disoriented; then the early morning light in her eyes reminded her that she had spent the night in her thinking place. For having spent a night on cold, hard stone with only a fur, Jael was less stiff and cramped than she would have expected; she hadn’t remembered the stone fitting her so neatly, a nicely curved hollow cradling her back and another conforming perfectly to the shape of her buttocks. Even her head had fallen sideways into a pillow-like nook in the stone.

It was still early; with luck, Jael would have time for a bath before breakfast. She didn’t want Lord Urien seeing her grubby and disheveled.

Fortunately it was too early even for the twins, and Jael managed an uninterrupted bath. Back in her room, however, Jael nearly groaned aloud. The only fairly attractive and intact clothing she owned was wrinkled from being flung in the corner the night before. Jael disgustedly laid the clothing out on the bed for the maids to clean and dragged out her second-best finery. Wearing her good clothing at breakfast meant she’d have to dash back to her rooms and change again before her lessons with Rabin and Larissa, but so be it.

To Jael’s utter dismay, however, Lord Urien was not at breakfast; neither were Donya or Argent, having convened an early session with the City Council to discuss what Urien had told them the night before. The twins were there, and they teased Jael unmercifully about her clothing. As a result, Jael bolted her porridge and added a burned mouth to her list of complaints for the day, then had to hurry back to change clothes before she could meet Rabin and Larissa.

Today’s lesson was even more strenuous than the day before, but Jael found it fascinating. Between the two masters, Jael was beginning to get some clumsy sense of what to do with her cut-down practice sword, but more interesting were Larissa’s lessons. Larissa could snatch up anything from a stick to a handful of horse dung and make a weapon of it; she was just as deadly with nothing at all. By noon Jael was battered and exhausted, but satisfied; for once she felt she was actually accomplishing something and pleasing her instructors.

At noon Markus and Mera arrived, and Jael was further annoyed by the twins sitting on the wall and watching, offering unsolicited (and unwanted) advice and critiques, and giggling whenever the instructors got a strike past Jael’s guard. It made every fall and bruise twice as humiliating. When Rabin and Larissa called a halt to the lesson, however, Jael discovered that the twins actually had a purpose in their visit.

“Jael’s supposed to change her clothes, wash up, and meet Mother in Grandma Celene’s old lab,” Mera recited.

“And Mother says she may not be back for her afternoon lesson,” Markus added. “Mother said not to wait for her.”

Jael ground her teeth. Obviously this meant that Aunt Shadow and Grandma Celene were back, but of course the twins had to sit around and taunt her rather than delivering the message immediately. Jael managed to thank Rabin and Larissa politely, then stalked back to her room to change.

As she had anticipated, Shadow and Celene were with Donya in the old laboratory. Celene had left most of her books and equipment here, and the maids had kept it clean, but the room still had the air of one that had not been used for a long time. Someone had cleared enough space to lay a simple dinner on one of the tables, and Jael was grateful; her lesson had left her with a ravenous appetite.

Aunt Shadow was almost unbearably cheerful, causing Jael to speculate that the elf had probably spent a goodly amount of time with Mist, who had come back through the Gate to visit with Aubry at the Thieves’ Guild. Celene was quietly happy to enjoy her daughter’s company, content to let Shadow ramble on about how many new huts there were in Inner Heart and how excellent the latest batch of moondrop wine looked to be. Jael hadn’t seen Grandmother Celene for almost two years, but the former High Lady was as ageless

and serenely lovely as ever.

When Jael had finished eating, Celene laid out her books and instruments and cast a few preliminary scrying spells. By the time Celene had Jael take off her shirt and began painting runes in green ink over Jael’s bare back, Jael began to have the disturbing feeling that Celene wasn’t any closer to finding an answer than anyone else had come.

“All right, we’ll try this another way,” Celene said grimly. “This is too simple to fail.” She took Jael’s hands in her own and muttered a short incantation, paused puzzledly, then chanted another. The second time she snatched her hands away abruptly, muttering a curse in Olvenic.

“By the Mother Forest, that hurt,” Celene murmured, blowing on the fingertips of her left hand to cool them.

“What’s the matter?” Jael asked. She hadn’t felt a thing.

“Backlashed on me,” Celene said absently. She took Jael’s hands and tried another incantation with the same response.

“That’s interesting,” Celene said at last. “Magic won’t pass through her. I can make the power go into her, but it warps somehow, twists, and won’t come back out.”

“But how is that possible?” Donya said. “You said there was the mage-gift in her. How can magic
not
come out of her?”

“That’s not how it works,” Celene said, shaking her head. “Mages don’t strictly use power from inside themselves, or no one could cast anything but the simplest of spells. Mages attract magical energy to them from outside sources and use their own power to shape and channel it. Mages in control of their power, that is.”

“So if Jael isn’t in control of her magery,” Shadow speculated, “she could be drawing power to her but she can’t do anything with it?”

Celene nodded.

“During the Black Wars, the barbarian mages used to love to kill uninitiated mages, ours and their own,” she said. “An uncontrolled mage usually has a great deal of power stored but unused, and killing them releases that power in one large burst. Uninitiated mages can often be recognized by involuntary release of that magic—objects fly around the room or break, and so on.”

“Like the light globes,” Shadow said, nodding.

“Possibly,” Celene said cautiously. “I’m not positive that Jael actually is releasing any magical energy at all. If I can’t even pass magic through her, I don’t see how she can pass it through herself. Frankly I don’t think she’s absorbing magic and then releasing it; I think she’s acting on the magic around her and warping it somehow.”

“How is that possible if she can’t use magic herself?” Donya asked, her brow wrinkling. “I thought you just said that the only way you could influence magical energy was
with
magic.”

“Frankly, I don’t know
how
she’s doing it,” Celene admitted. “I can sense the magery in her, but it’s got a feel I’m not familiar with. And it’s obstructed somehow. I get a sense of— well—a gap that her magic can’t cross, just as cattle won’t cross a bridge if you take a board or two off the middle. It’s the same with her Gift—she has some of the makings of a beast-speaker, but it just won’t come through.”

“A gap,” Donya repeated disgustedly. “Cattle and bridges. Mother, can’t you tell me anything more useful than that?”

“Well, as I said, I can’t tell you how she does it,” Celene said, shaking her head. “But I think I can tell you
why.”

“Then tell me that,” Donya said impatiently.

“The magic confused me,” Celene said thoughtfully. “If I’d looked at the other problems first I might have guessed it sooner.”

“Other problems?” Jael said, bristling slightly.

“Your restlessness, shortness of attention, clumsiness, extremes of emotion, and slow growth,” Celene said gently, tugging Jael’s short curls affectionately. “It’s really quite simple —so simple I overlooked it.”

“Soul-sick,” Shadow said.

Celene nodded. “You saw it, too,” she said.

“You both seem to know all about this, but I’ve never

heard of it,” Donya said impatiently. “What does that mean, ‘soul-sick’?”

“It’s not exclusively an elven ailment, but humans don’t seem to understand it,” Shadow said. “Most humans go through a period of it between childhood and adulthood. It usually comes around their first sexual awakening, around the first bleeding time in a woman. It’s a time when their bodies don’t seem to work right, their emotions go north one minute,

south the next.”

“Not all elves go through it, and less now than used to,” Celene said. “Elves who are Gifted, who have a larger share of the old wild blood, often do, and it’s more serious for them. It’s a time when the growth of their spirit hasn’t caught up with their bodies and is working against them rather than with them. Their senses go awry, as do their Gifts or their magery. It’s a miserable time. As Shadow said, soul-sickness is often associated with the first ripening, or with sexual awakening, as well as with an elf’s Gifts or magery, as these forces all draw on similar spiritual energies. The first half-breeds had more trouble, as Jael is having, because the human half of their souls and the elven half don’t mix easily.”

“Well, that’s very helpful,” Donya scowled. “Most important, what’s to be done about it?”

“Humans simply grow out of it in time,” Celene said gently. “Even you did, despite your elven blood. If this had come on Jael sooner, I might have advised you to simply let her grow through it as the humans do. But coming so late in her years and so severely, and being linked with her Gift or her magery, I think it a more elven soul-sickness, and the elves have learned to deal with it. Most elven clans used to have coming-of-age rituals to take them through soul-sickness. The Hidden Folk still do.”

“What kind of rituals?” Jael asked interestedly. Uncle Mist was of Hidden Folk blood, and he’d never spoken to her of such a thing.

“Oh, there’s plenty of chanting and ceremony,” Celene smiled, “but I think that’s just the flower petals in the wine cup. What it amounts to is two days’ fasting, a pilgrimage to the Forest Altars, taking a potion, and praying to the Mother Forest to heal their spirits.”

“That doesn’t sound very helpful,” Donya scowled. “Isn’t there something a little more solid to try than this, well, this religious ritual?”

“This ‘religious ritual’ has been working for as long as there have been elves in the Heartwood,” Celene said gently. “Although I’ve never gone through it myself—have you, Shady?”

Shadow shook her head, grinning.

“The only cure for my spirit was the open road,” she said. “But, then, I wasn’t Gifted, nor a mage, nor a half-blood. Doe, I don’t see how it can hurt. What do you say, little acorn?”

“How long will all this take?” Jael asked warily.

“Well, as I say, I’m not familiar with the ritual myself,” Celene sighed. “With the whole business, purifications and chants and such, I would suppose at least a week, probably more.”

“A week?” Jael exploded. “But I promised—”

Celene raised a hand.

“That doesn’t matter. So far as I know, none of the Hidden Folk would do the ritual anyway, not for a half-blood. They let Jael into their villages, but that doesn’t mean they accept her as one of their own.”

“I don’t want Jael in the woods that long, anyway,” Donya said firmly. “It’s time for the autumn rains, and when they start, her chest always sounds like a door with rusty hinges.”

“What about Mist?” Shadow suggested. “He’s Hidden, or used to be, and he’s no farther away than the Guild. He could come here and see Jael through the preliminaries, then just take her through the Gate to the altars for the final part. Celene could temporarily move the other end of the Gate; that would save Jael any traveling at all. She couldn’t be in better hands.”

Donya sighed, shaking her head.

“I still don’t see what good this can possibly do,” she said, “but if Jael wants to try it—as you said, Shady, what harm can it do?” She turned to Jael and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

“All right,” Jael said eagerly, thinking that actually the whole thing sounded interesting. Two days’ fasting held no attraction, but still, if it could make her a mage or a beast-speaker—

“All right,” Jael said again. “I’d like to try.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll fetch Mist back here,” Shadow said, patting Jael on the shoulder. “Meanwhile, let’s let Celene and Donya have a chance to exchange their news. Why don’t you show me some of this new combat style you’re learning?”

“Larissa’s left by now,” Jael protested, but she let Shadow lead her from the room.

Larissa had indeed already left, so Shadow gave her a lesson in dagger throwing, encouraging Jael cheerfully when her daggers flew far astray.

“You’re not as bad as you think,” Shadow told her. “And you’re fortunate being two-handed from the start. I spent years training my off hand to throw straight. You need to build your wrist strength, but your sword training will do that anyway. Let’s go get ready for supper. I want to meet this young lord from Calidwyn who’s supposedly going to set the Temple of Baaros back on the proper trail.”

“He may not be here for supper,” Jael warned. “He had business at the temple all day.” For some reason the idea of Aunt Shadow—who probably knew every possible trick for luring a man to her bed—meeting Lord Urien made Jael uneasy.

“Then I’ll take supper with Mist and Aubry and enjoy seeing the city again,” Shadow shrugged. Then she grinned. “I want to find one of those taverns that don’t admit elves.”

“And do what?” Jael asked eagerly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shadow speculated. “Under the Compact, no business in the city can exclude elves. So since the place is acting against the law anyway, do you think the law might turn a blind eye if the tavern misplaced the night’s takings?”

“Well, the City Guard might or might not,” Jael admitted. “If it was just up to Father, you could burn the place down. Mother would probably light the torch for you. But Mother and Father aren’t the magistrates. So you’d best not get caught, and then it doesn’t matter, does it?”