Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel (28 page)

“Would it not mean much to you if it were your homeland the Temple planned to attack?” Mist thrust the stone toward Arelnath again. “Take it, and let me go.”

Reluctantly, Arelnath’s hand closed around the stone.

“Do what you must, then,” she said as Mist released the chain.

“Thank you,” Mist said. “One thing more. You said you might guess where Venran will be traveling; give me the benefit of your guessing.”

“Of course.” Arelnath sat down and began drawing lines in the dirt in front of her with the Temple dagger. Mist bent over to watch. For a few moments the two conversed in low voices. Finally, Arelnath handed Mist the dagger. Mist straightened, thrusting the dagger awkwardly through her belt.

“Thank you,” she said. “If Venran reaches you before, I find him, tell him what has happened and ask him to link his sorcerers through the moonstone to try to warn the island. I do not think he will refuse.”

Arelnath snorted. “He had better not. The Traders owe a lot to the Island of the Moon. Without it they would have to hire twice as many guards whenever they come near the Melyranne Sea.” She added a phrase in an unfamiliar tongue. Mist nodded, and turned. In a few more minutes she was completely out of sight.

R
ANIRA BROKE THE SILENCE.
“I thought Mist needed that stone to do her spells,” she said. “Is she going to be safe without it?”

“At least as safe as we are with it,” Arelnath said, looking most amused. “The moonstone is a source of power, but it is not the only one there is. Mist will manage,” She fingered the stone for a moment, then hung the chain from her belt, just behind her sword. She settled herself on the ground next to Jaren and looked up at Ranira. “You might as well make yourself comfortable; I think we are going to have a rather long wait.”

The morning passed slowly. The fog never completely dissipated; gray tendrils continued to shift among the trees long after most of the air had cleared. The two Cilhar did not seem to be affected by the dreary atmosphere. They sat side by side, polishing the two Temple swords with scraps of clothing and conversing in low voices. Shandy spent most of the morning sleeping, which left Ranira with little to do besides think.

She was glad enough to do so. She was surprised to find how many of her fears and doubts of the three foreigners had proven baseless. The stories the Temple encouraged about foreigners were obviously a fraud, but Ranira was not certain why the Temple so earnestly discouraged contact with strangers. Perhaps they feared what such knowledge might bring. She was even more surprised to realize how much her own future had become tied to her three new friends. Their concerns had become hers, even before she discovered that she, too, was a witch.

Idly, Ranira tried to picture herself back in Drinn. If she had not been unlucky enough to catch Gadrath’s eye, some new innkeeper or merchant—possibly even a noble—would hold her bond now, and she would be working in his kitchen until the bond was paid. Then what? She realized that she had never had a clear idea of what she would do when her bond was canceled and she was free again. With no relatives to go to and the reputation of a witch-child to live down, she would probably have ended up as one of the women in the shacks at the edge of Drinn, where the castoffs of the Temple priests went. She shuddered at the thought. The movement made her veil shift. She automatically put up a hand to straighten it, then paused.

Slowly, Ranira removed the veil and looked at it. It was dusty and streaked; a small twig was caught in the cord, and there was a tear at one side. It was a short veil, the kind foreign women wore in deference to the customs of Drinn. But Ranira was no longer in Drinn, and it would be death to return. How much a foreigner did she want to be?

Even more slowly than before, she crumpled the veil into a little ball and stuffed it into the pocket of the pilgrim’s robe. She would grow accustomed to not wearing it, she supposed. She was already becoming used to the sight of Mist’s unveiled face, and Arelnath’s did not bother her at all. Even so, Ranira felt as if she were severing her last tie to Drinn. “That is silly,” she told herself. “I don’t want any more ties to Drinn. If I had any, the Temple would use them to follow me and burn me for a witch.”

Ranira looked up. Arelnath was watching her, but all the woman said was, “Good. You will not attract nearly as much attention outside the Empire.”

Shandy awoke near noon. He was loud in his disapproval of Ranira’s unveiled condition, which only succeeded in making her more determined never to wear a veil again. Their argument was loud and long, and managed to release much of Ranira’s tension. It was almost a relief to have someone to shout at. Finally, Arelnath and Jaren put a stop to it, pointing out that the two combatants were making enough noise to attract Templemen all the way from Drinn.

The truth behind this exaggeration silenced both Ranira and Shandy at once. Shandy retired to sulk beneath one of the trees. Ranira could not help wondering what this latest strain would do to her friendship with the boy. Her anger evaporated quickly, though she still resented Shandy’s high-handed orders. She was somewhat relieved when she saw Jaren beckon to the boy and begin talking to him. Shandy’s glower quickly vanished, and he sat down beside the blond man, listening intently.

Arelnath came over to Ranira a moment, chuckling. “Jaren is telling him about our adventures,” she said. “Only a third of it is true, but it will keep him busy for a while. He may even try to be a little quieter with his criticisms, though that could be expecting too much.”

“Shandy is all right,” Ranira said. She groped for words to explain. “It is just that in Drinn the only way to stay out of the Watchmen’s way is not to be noticed.”

“I mean no insult to your friend,” Arelnath replied. “He is young and has much to learn, that is all. I think he will do very well, once he has adjusted to the idea that very few people outside the Empire of Chaldreth would approve of many of your customs and beliefs.”

“Shandy will learn quickly,” Ranira said. She was a little surprised by Arelnath’s understanding. She opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a cry from Jaren.

Ranira turned. Jaren was on his feet, his sword moving rapidly as he beat back the strokes of the Templemen attacking him. More black-robed men appeared. Ranira had little time to wonder what had happened to Mist’s warding spells. She drew her dagger and started forward.

A black robe blocked her way. Ranira struck out with the dagger. The metal rang as the guard blocked it with his sword. She struck again. She felt a dull shock as something hit her arm. Then her dagger met resistance, and she heard a cry of surprise. The dagger was wrenched from her numb fingers as the Templeman fell back. Beyond, she could see Jaren and Arelnath, their backs pressed against the same tree and their swords dancing among the Temple guards without pause. Two of the Templemen lay motionless in front of Jaren and another was collapsing in front of Arelnath.

A hand grabbed Ranira’s arm and swung her around. She struck out with her free hand. Behind her a voice cried, “Alive, you fools! I will have them alive!” Ranira struck again before her hand was caught and held. Only when she had ceased to struggle did she realize that her right arm hurt and that something wet was running across her hand. She looked down, then looked up again, quickly. The Templeman’s sword had put a long, slanting cut in her upper arm; it was not a pretty sight.

Ranira’s captor tied her hands quickly and went to assist the Templeman she had wounded. The other guards were closing in on Arelnath and Jaren. Their numbers worked against them—there were too many Templemen to attack effectively at the same time. “Back. Ring them!” a voice commanded. Ranira craned her neck in an effort to see the speaker. It was Gadrath.

Her mouth went slack with astonishment. Gadrath was High Priest. How could he leave Drinn at the climax of Midwinter Festival? Unless Erenal had lied… But no, Gadrath wore the smoky-black crystal pendant that symbolized the office of High Priest. Ranira shivered.

The Temple guards began to move in response to Gadrath’s order. The ring around Arelnath and Jaren widened until the Templemen were just out of sword’s reach. Four of the Templemen lay sprawled on the ground in front of the two Cilhar. Another was struggling to his feet, one hand pressed to his side. Arelnath and Jaren made no attempt to stop him.

Gadrath moved forward, his eyes flickering across the clearing. “I see I will have to do this work myself. It is a pity that twelve of the finest guards of the Temple of Chaldon cannot subdue a man and a youth,” he sneered. “But at least you have managed to capture the girl. Ah, but there are no longer so many of you. No doubt that accounts for it.” A small, cold smile settled on Gadrath’s lips. “Let me show you how such as these ought to be dealt with.”

Gadrath’s right hand rose and clasped the pendant. Ranira shivered. The gesture was the same she had seen Mist use in spell-casting, but in the hands of the High Priest of Chaldon it was menacing. “By the power of Chaldon!” Gadrath said, and his left hand gestured.

A blue-white light flared around the two Cilhar, then intensified to a blinding flash around Arelnath. When Ranira’s eyes cleared, she saw Jaren and Arelnath frozen motionless in the center of the ring of Templemen. “Bind them,” Gadrath ordered. His voice was triumphant, but his eyes watched Arelnath narrowly, and his hand still held the crystal pendant. Ranira was too relieved to care. She had been afraid that the spell holding Jaren and Arelnath was permanent, but Gadrath would have no need to bind them if the spell alone would keep them motionless.

A guard hurried forward with two pairs of iron cuffs, each linked by a strong, short chain. They were the sort bond servants wore when their contracts were auctioned, meant to fasten in front for the ease and convenience of the bondholders. Remembering Jaren’s contempt for the shackles that had bound him to the parade carriage, Ranira could not help wondering if he would be able to free himself from these as easily. Not that it mattered so long as Gadrath and his spells were present to thwart any attempt at escape.

Warily, the guard approached Arelnath and Jaren. Neither moved. With growing confidence, the guard plucked the sword from Arelnath’s hand and fastened the chains to her wrists. Grinning, he repeated the procedure with Jaren and swaggered back to join his fellows. Gadrath’s smile widened; his right hand dropped to his side.

As Gadrath’s hand left the crystal, the motionless figures came alive. The Templemen closed in once more. Ranira glanced quickly around the clearing. She saw no sign of Shandy. Just as she was beginning to hope that the boy had escaped in the confusion, she saw the branches above Arelnath sway slightly, although there was no wind. Ranira looked away at once. If Shandy was hiding in the tree, she did not wish to draw attention to him.

Gadrath was still watching Arelnath. “Search them,” he said abruptly. “Especially the youth.” He walked forward, then paused. His eyes narrowed. He held up a hand. The guards stopped in confusion. Gadrath bowed mockingly to Arelnath. “Forgive me,
lady
,” he said. “I am not accustomed to women who dress as boys. No doubt you have some excellent reason.”

“No doubt,” Arelnath said dryly. The guard behind her jerked her arm, but Arelnath ignored him. She studied Gadrath for a moment, as he had studied her, then snorted and, appeared to lose interest. Gadrath’s lips tightened.

“Search them,” the new High Priest said again.

The guards surged forward once more. They had almost reached Arelnath when a loud crack above them drew their attention upward. A moment later, Shandy plummeted into their midst, still clutching the dead branch that had given under his weight.

Arelnath alone moved fast enough. She twisted sideways and held out her arms just in time to break Shandy’s fall. The boy’s weight knocked her to the ground, and for a moment all Ranira could see was a tangle of arms and legs.

“Ow! Leave me alone!” Shandy yelled. “No! I don’t like witches. Let me up!” The boy struggled clear at last and jumped to his feet as Arelnath sat up. He backed away from her, fists clenched. “You stay away from me, you witch!”

Arelnath rose and began dusting herself off, moving awkwardly because of the iron cuffs. Shandy backed up another couple of steps and bumped into a Templeman. Shandy did not seem to notice; his eyes never left Arelnath. Ranira had never seen him look so frightened. She could not understand it. Shandy disapproved of the foreigners, but he had never been afraid of them. Gadrath’s cool voice cut across her thoughts.

“An admirable demonstration,” he said. “But I am afraid you will have to be more convincing if you hope to avoid the House of Correction.”

Shandy looked down, but his posture did not change. Gadrath’s lips curled faintly, and he turned away. “I believe you were preparing to search your prisoners,” he said with exaggerated politeness to the guards. He nodded at Arelnath. “Take particular care with her. She should not have been able to resist Chaldon’s will at all.”

The Templemen hurried to obey, and a wave of horror swept Ranira. The moonstone! That must be what Gadrath wanted. The guards would surely find it. Ranira remembered Arelnath hanging the chain in plain sight on her belt. She did not know what would happen if the moonstone fell into the hands of the Temple of Chaldon, but it could hardly be good. She held her breath, ignoring the hands that patted at her robe, watching the group around Arelnath.

The guards finished, and one of them stepped forward to deposit their plunder in front of Gadrath. It was a small pile: Shandy’s battered water bottle, Erenal’s flask and knife, a few scraps of cloth, and the empty sword belts Jaren had taken from the Templemen in Drinn. Ranira strained to see. No, the moonstone was not there. She was sure of it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Shandy shift. She moved her head slightly to see what he was doing. The boy stood almost motionless, staring at Arelnath with a belligerent pout on his face. As Ranira watched, one grubby fist crept down and disappeared into a hole in his clothing that might once have been a pocket. Suddenly, Ranira knew what Arelnath had done with the moonstone. No wonder Shandy was frightened! Between his fear of witchcraft and his fear of being caught with the stone, the boy must be nearly panic-stricken.