Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (21 page)

“Thank you, Shandy,” Ranira said as she accepted the berries. She turned back to Arelnath. “Why are you so sure the Temple has sent someone after us? We haven’t seen anyone since we left Drinn. Perhaps the High Priest will not let the guards leave the city, even to look for us. After all, it is Festival week.”

“Ah, Renra,” Shandy said before Arelnath could answer. “The Temple chases everybody. You know that.”

Arelnath laughed and shook her head. “I must agree with Shandy. Do you think the Temple of Chaldon will take the chance that we might get a warning to the people of the Third Moon? No, they will follow us, and soon. I am surprised we have seen none of them already. They have been relying too much on their spells, I think.”

“You may be right, Arelnath.” Though Mist’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, both Arelnath and Ranira heard it clearly. Their heads snapped in her direction; Ranira’s hit the lower arc of the branches, and she winced. Mist smiled. “I owe you thanks for my life, child,” she said to Ranira. “And to you, Arelnath.”

“I do what my oath demands,” Arelnath said, her lips tightening. “If you owe me a life, it is Jaren’s.”

“I can do nothing for him now,” Mist said with a sigh. “Even with Ranira’s help and protection, I was badly drained when the Temple attacked us last night.”

“Protection? What do you mean?” Ranira said. “I did not do anything. You told me
you
would work the spells!”

Mist’s face clouded. “You did not contribute to my spells, if that is what you fear. I doubt that you could. You have a block against magic the like of which I have never seen. It saved us both last night, but I fear you may never be able to use your power freely because of it—it is too much a part of you.”

“But I am not a witch,” Ranira said automatically. She saw Shandy nod his agreement, but his mouth was too full of berries for him to speak.

“That is what I mean,” Mist said, smiling ruefully. “You are too good at denying your abilities. It is a pity, for you have great potential.”

“Renra’s not a witch!” Shandy said loudly. Immediately, he choked on a too-hastily swallowed redberry. Ranira pounded his back.

Arelnath was watching Mist narrowly. “If Ranira can block magic so well, why are you so wearied?” she asked. “I thought you were not going to fight the Temple, but hide.”

A puzzled look crossed the healer’s face as she struggled to a sitting position. “I do not know,” she said. “And I did not try to oppose the Temple spell; Ranira’s block did that. It is almost as if my own power were working against me. I have not felt like this since…” Mist stopped short and her face went white. Ranira looked at her curiously, wondering what memory could have such a profound effect on the ordinarily calm healer, but Mist did not seem inclined to finish the sentence.

“Well, I hope Ranira’s block is strong enough to protect you when the Temple strikes again tonight,” Arelnath said, ignoring Mist’s last comment after one penetrating look at the other woman’s face. “I do not think we will get very far today.”

“We may not have to,” Mist replied carefully. “I am not certain, but I think the Temple priests believe we are dead. Did you not notice how suddenly the attack ceased?”

“Dead? The spell was strong, but they could hardly be sure of a killing blow if they did not even know where we were.”

Mist glanced at Ranira, who returned the look with a puzzled frown. The healer hesitated, then said, “Any magician who would cast a spell over a long distance must have a way to know when the spell has succeeded, or he might continue to use his power when it was no longer necessary. The Temple of Chaldon is no exception. The priests knew their spell would be painful. They designed it so that they would sense the death-agonies of anyone of power and skill who was caught in it. Ranira accidentally sent out exactly the feelings the Temple hoped to find, and they were deceived, at least enough to stop their attack. We will know tonight whether they are certain of our deaths.”

“I would rather be certain now,” Arelnath said. “How could Ranira convince the Temple of Chaldon that it was killing magicians?”

Comprehension hit Ranira like a blow. “My parents,” she said in a strangled voice. “The Temple felt my parents die, as I did.”

For once Shandy had nothing to say; Arelnath, too, was silent. Mist looked at Ranira. “I am sorry,” she said. “I had no wish to cause you pain.”

Ranira started to reply, then stopped and swallowed hard, “Mist,” she said in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, “tell me truly. Could the memory of watching someone die have fooled the Temple priests?”

Slowly Mist shook her head. “A memory of another’s pain, however vivid, would not be strong enough to convince a sorcerer that he had successfully killed,” she said reluctantly. “The sensation of death is unmistakable.”

“Then how…” Arelnath looked at Ranira and stopped in mid-sentence. Ranira ignored her.

“And so, the Temple was deceived because I felt my parents’ deaths with them,” Ranira said, still concentrating on Mist. “I lived it anew instead of simply remembering. But an ordinary person could not have done that, could they? It would take someone who is a… who has power.”

“Yes.” Mist seemed to be waiting.

Ranira went on. “The Temple of Chaldon was watching for the deaths of those ‘of power and skill.’ Could they have been misled by the deaths of two ordinary people, even if such deaths were relived by a person with power?”

Again Mist shook her head. Ranira felt the blood drain from her face, and she had to force herself to speak, to ask one last question, even though she knew with certainty what the answer would be. “The priests of Chaldon were trying to kill witches. If my memories deceived them, then my parents must have been witches. Am I not right?”

Even more slowly than before, Mist nodded. “I am sorry,” she said again. “I know how you feel about magic.”

Ranira closed her eyes and leaned back against a bush, feeling her world crumbling for the third or fourth time in as many days. The successive shocks were too much to absorb in so short a time: Gadrath’s proposition, Lykken’s death, certain death as the Bride of Chaldon and then impossible escape, leaving Drinn, and, finally, Arelnath’s claim now that she, Ranira, was a witch. Ranira wanted to be left alone, to think—but that was not possible. Someone was tugging at her sleeve. She opened her eyes.

“Renra?” Shandy said almost plaintively. “Does that mean you really are a witch?” His eyes begged her to deny it, but Ranira nodded jerkily. She could no longer refuse to accept the truth of the accusation, though it upset the very foundations of her life. If her parents had been witches, then so was she. Shandy looked at her in distress. “But the Temple burns witches.”

“If they caught us now, we would all burn anyway,” Ranira said wearily. “What difference does it make?” The boy did not answer.

Arelnath cleared her throat, and Ranira’s head turned. “We had better start moving,” the Cilhar woman said. “I am sorry, too, but I do not think that memories will confuse the Temple of Chaldon for long. If we hope to survive this night, we must be farther from Drinn.”

“I think the Temple will prefer to save its power to attack the Island of the Moon,” Mist said. “It is growing too close to the Night of Two Moons for the priests to waste their power on inessentials. Even with such a great number to draw upon, they will need as much as they can manage to destroy the island.”

“If they do not send spells after us, they will send men,” Arelnath said impatiently. “In either case, it is safer for us to move—the farther, the better. With Jaren to carry, we will not be able to travel fast so we must start as soon as we can. We have wasted enough time already.”

Without waiting to see what the others would do, Arelnath turned and began tugging at Jaren’s litter. Mist sighed and went to help her pull the stretcher over the rough, twig-strewn ground. It soon became obvious that it would take them far longer to maneuver Jaren’s litter out of the brush-filled hollow than it had taken to move him in.

Ranira helped the other two women as much as she was able, but in the confusing tangle of bushes it was hard for more than one person at a time to move the litter effectively. For three people it was next to impossible. When they finally reached the road once more, Ranira felt as tired as if she had spent a day scrubbing floors for her bondholder.

None of the others seemed to feel much like continuing at once either. Arelnath stopped as soon as Jaren’s litter was clear of the bushes and stood up, panting. Mist sank down beside the road in undisguised relief while Shandy looked around uncertainly. Ranira sighed and sat down abruptly, trying to relax before she had to begin walking again. Her muscles were sorer than she had thought when she first awakened; she had not noticed the stiffness until she tried to move.

It was Arelnath who finally got them moving once more. She and Ranira each took one end of the litter, leaving Shandy and Mist to make their way alongside. Their progress was slow, and several times Ranira noticed Arelnath watching Mist with thinly veiled concern. Though Mist did not complain, she stumbled repeatedly, and there were new lines of tiredness on her face.

Jaren himself was yet another handicap. The poison was working in him more strongly. He had begun to moan and thrash about, and several times he nearly fell from the litter. At last Arelnath stopped. While the others rested briefly, she sliced a strip from the hem of Ranira’s robe and with it tied Jaren to the wooden poles that made the framework of the stretcher. It was an awkward arrangement at best, but it kept him from falling during the periods of delirium.

Jaren’s brief spells of lucidity were almost worse for his companions than the times when his mind wandered, for when he could think clearly, Jaren also felt the pain of the slowly working poison more acutely. He did not scream or cry out, as the nameless victim at the Inn of Nine Doors had done, but his grimly determined efforts to remain silent were painful to observe.

The strain of continued flight had taken its toll on them all. Ranira was grateful when Arelnath called a halt at mid-morning. “There it is,” the warrior said with satisfaction as she and Ranira set down the litter. “We will have to turn off the road soon, but we are much closer than I had expected.”

“What? What do you mean, ‘closer’?” Ranira looked around nervously. Rolling fields stretched out on either side of them, giving her a feeling of exposure.

“Karadreme Forest,” Arelnath replied waving toward the northeast, where a row of treetops made a dark line between the brown fields and the gray sky. “Venran’s caravan is to meet us there in two days.” The Cilhar woman smiled briefly. “When he sees you and Shandy, he will probably double the price he wants for picking us up there.”

Ranira’s shoulders twitched. She looked around again. “How long will it take us to get there?” she asked. “I do not like these open fields.”

“The forest is closer than it looks, but we are traveling more slowly than I had hoped to. Another hour or two, I think.”

“Then can we stop?” Shandy asked.

“When we get to the forest, we can rest for a while. We will have to go on to join Venran eventually, but the meeting place is not more than half a day’s travel into the Karadreme.”

“Can we go on now?” Ranira asked.

Arelnath looked surprised, but she nodded. She bent to hoist the litter once more, then paused and looked over at Mist.

“Are you ready to start walking again?” Arelnath asked.

Mist nodded. “If it is only for another hour, I can manage. Do not hold back because of me.”

Arelnath nodded agreement, but Ranira saw the little crease that formed between the other woman’s eyebrows as she turned back to lift the stretcher poles. Ranira was not surprised to find Arelnath setting an even slower pace than she had that morning.

They stayed on the road as long as they were able. When Arelnath finally turned to cut across the fields toward the forest, they were able to go almost directly north. The Cilhar woman had been right in saying that the forest was closer than it looked, but by the time they reached it they were all glad to stop once more. Jaren moaned as they set the litter down. Arelnath hurried to untie him from the frame.

Mist moved to help, but Arelnath waved her away. With surprising gentleness, Arelnath laid back the layers of cloth covering Jaren’s injured leg. Ranira recoiled from the sight. The ankle was black and swollen to twice its normal size. Blue-black streaks ran up the leg halfway to the knee, and the skin that showed between them was an angry red. Arelnath looked up, and her eyes sought Mist. “If you do not help him soon, he will lose the leg,” she said grimly.

Mist leaned forward to examine Jaren’s leg more closely. “You are right,” she said quietly. Ranira was surprised at the healer’s calm. Then Mist’s eyes moved toward the south and Ranira saw the tension in the motion. “You are right,” Mist said again. “Jaren will lose his leg, and perhaps his life, if I do nothing for him. Those on the island will die just as surely if I cannot warn them before both moons are full and the Temple of Chaldon attacks. Yet I cannot do both; I fear that I have not even strength enough for one.” She bowed her head. For a moment there was silence.

Arelnath cleared her throat. “I have helped you before,” the woman said when Mist looked up. “Whatever assistance I can give is yours. I do not think we can reach the Temple of the Third Moon when we failed before, but if there is any chance that we can do so, we must try.”

Indecision wrenched at Mist’s face. “I do not know,” she said, looking down at Jaren. “Even without the barrier, it is so far… And I am tired. I may not be able to try healing afterward, even with your assistance.”

Unexpectedly, Jaren’s eyes opened. “Mist,” he said in a strained voice. Mist bent over him, and he blinked up at her face for a moment. “Try,” he said clearly. His eyes sought Arelnath, and he spoke briefly in a language foreign to Ranira.

Arelnath nodded. From her belt, she drew the Temple dagger. She stepped to Jaren’s side and bent swiftly to place it in his hand. As his fingers closed around the hilt, she murmured something in the same tongue that Jaren had spoken. Jaren smiled and let hand and dagger fall to his side. His eyes closed. Arelnath looked up into Ranira’s uncomprehending stare.