Glyphbinder (11 page)

Trell grimaced. He did not like the sound of that.

Sera took Byn’s arm. “Elder, why is this happening? Why would someone want to abduct Kara?”

Halde leaned back in his seat. “If we knew, we would already know how to stop him. Things being as they are, Kara and I have agreed that she will depart for Tarna immediately.”

“Why can’t she stay here?” Byn asked. “Can’t you keep her safe?”

“Whoever wishes to abduct Kara has already struck at her in Solyr’s center square, one of the most secure areas of the academy. Somehow, they’ve compromised our wards.”

“Drown me in burning oil,” Byn whispered. “That’s never happened before, has it?”

“It did once,” Sera said quietly. “When someone murdered Elder Cantrall.”

“Tarna’s wards have stood for generations,” Halde continued. “Kara will be safe there. No mage will reach her.”

Byn stood up. “You can’t send her out there by herself!”

Halde merely smiled. Byn winced and Trell realized he had spoken out of turn. Even so, Byn didn’t sit down.

“She will have help,” Halde said. “We will pretend to move her to secured chambers and post elders in that wing. Tonight, under cover of darkness, Kara will leave Solyr and journey to Tarna, disguised as a torasel. Whoever wants her may not even know she has left.”

Byn relaxed and sat. “You know I’m going with her, right?

“Kara might have mentioned that.”

Trell looked at Halde, then at Byn. “What’s a torasel?”

Byn snorted and shook his head. “Really, Trell?”

Sera poked Byn, shushed him, and smiled at Trell. “They’re quite common in our lands, perhaps not so much in yours. They’re merchants. They travel in heavy cloaks and veil their faces to make it difficult to tell one from the other.”

“So they can rob you blind,” Byn added.

“Don’t be crass.” Sera poked him again. “It’s simply their way, how they accord respect to each other. In torasel circles all are equal, and their robes are a representation of that.”

“Regardless,” Halde cut in, “their robes make an excellent disguise, and secrecy is vital if we wish to sneak Kara out of Solyr. She will be leading a dyn on the journey to Tarna.”

Sera gasped. Trell wondered what a dyn was, and why it was so unusual for Kara to command one. Kara turned to her friends.

“Byn. Sera. I won’t ask if you’re not ready.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Sera said. “Of course we’re with you. You’re not leaving my sight until you’re safe with King Haven.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” Kara smiled at them both. “Just so you know, I’m also inviting Jair Deymartin. I think a Soulmage will be useful, and besides, I trust him.”

Byn nodded. “I’ve always found him a likable sort, despite his bizarre tolerance for ‘His Royal Lockeness.’”

The doors to the Council Chamber creaked open. Trell stood and stepped in front of Kara as the raven-haired man he had seen in the square stumbled inside, dressed in cloth pants and a flimsy shirt. A melted lump of metal hung around his neck.

“Speak only once of the storm,” Byn said, “and over the waters it comes.” His big fists clenched.

Several healers, including Senior Mender Landra, followed the dark-haired man into the council chamber. Trell evaluated him with wary eyes. This man had almost burned Kara alive.

Landra spoke first. “We tried to keep Aryn in bed, elder, but he insisted on speaking with you. He would not let us help him walk.”

So this man’s name was Aryn. Trell would remember. He sat back down.

“Elder.” Aryn barely kept his feet. “I must speak with you. There was a mage—”

“Help him sit,” Halde ordered.

Aryn tried to push the menders off, but Landra and another woman forced him onto a bench. When Halde approached them, Aryn relented. Trell did not miss the dark look Kara gave her friends.

Aryn looked up at Halde. “A mage … he came to me this morning, in crimson, like yours. I thought he was an elder.”

“Did you see his face?”

“No. When he grabbed me, his hands were like ice. I knew then that something was wrong, but from then on…” He glanced at Kara, then away. “I felt nothing but his hate.”

Trell heard Kara huff. He kept his eyes on Aryn, searching the man’s posture for deceit or lingering resentment, but what he saw was a man who was both tired and dejected. His slumped shoulders and slouched back gave him away.

“I have failed you and brought danger to this academy.” Aryn hung his head. “I accept exile.”

Halde loomed over Aryn. “You are aware that the hatred you harbored toward Kara made you vulnerable to manipulation?”

“Yes, respected elder. I made a mistake and I regret it.” He looked up at Sera. “I’m sorry I hit you. You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

“I’m fine,” Sera said quietly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know it wasn’t you.” She smiled, and Byn looked askance at that.

Halde gripped Aryn’s shoulder. “What happened in the square was not your doing. You made a mistake and you feel the weight of it, but you did not attack these people. You were compelled.”

“That doesn’t excuse my falling victim in the first place.”

“You’re correct. But it does mean there is still a place for you in this academy.”

Halde glanced at Kara, and Trell saw her nod. She didn’t want Aryn exiled. It seemed natural to Trell, reading people, and he knew he had done it often before he lost his memory. Had he been more than a soldier in the Tellvan army? Had he been some sort of spy?

“You will be placed in the elder wing, with Kara,” Halde told Aryn. “Once we are certain no trace of madness remains—”

“Kara’s not going to the elder wing,” Aryn cut in. “She’s leaving Solyr tonight. I hope you’re at least sending someone with her?”

Byn muttered a low curse.

“If you could protect her from whomever attacked us,” Aryn continued, “that mage couldn’t have burned a glyph inside my head. My grandfather did much the same in the All Province War, when the Tassauns marched on Locke. He surrounded our estate with soldiers and hired actors to take the place of my father and brothers. Then they went to Tarna in a commoner’s wagon, surrounded by his most trusted guardsmen.”

“A pleasant story,” Halde agreed after a moment, “but this is not Locke. Have you spoken of this to anyone else?”

“Respected elder,” Kara raised her voice, “I trust Aryn to help me more than I trust him to keep his mouth shut. I think he should be the fifth member of my dyn.”

Trell considered Kara’s request and as he did so, his respect for her leadership grew. If Aryn stayed at Solyr, it would only be a matter of time before his conclusions reached the ears of others. If his apology was as genuine as it appeared, Kara could find no better ally than a man seeking redemption.

“You would have me?” Aryn said. “In your dyn?”

“If you will leave our triptych duels behind us.”

Aryn bowed his head. “You could have killed me when that glyph had my mind, and none would speak ill of you. Five know you should have, given our past. You saved me. You saved Sera.” He looked up. “The House of Locke is at your service.”

Byn opened his mouth, but a sharp glance from Kara silenced him. Byn threw up his hands.

Halde stroked his short beard. “Then the matter is settled, your dyn complete.” He crossed his arms and frowned. “Kara, I’m sorry, but it will be impossible for you to speak at the Selection Day ceremony today. It’s simply too dangerous.”

“It’s all right.” Kara relaxed, and Trell could not decide if that denoted disappointment or relief. “My speech was terrible.”

“Even so,” Halde continued as he walked over to her, “you should know that in the eyes of the elders, you have already graduated with the highest honors we can provide.”

Halde reached into his robes. He pulled out a thin silver chain. On it hung a medallion shaped like a Solyr sun. Halde took Kara’s hand, eased open her fingers, and placed the medallion in her open palm. Kara stared at it.

“This is your graduation,” Halde said. “You
are
an apprentice of Solyr.” He closed her fingers around the medallion, its chain swinging idly from her fist. “And you will make us all very proud.”

“YOU'RE NOT GOING,” Ona said. She grabbed Kara’s hands.

“I knew you might say that.” Kara tugged but couldn’t pull away. Her mother could be very strong when she wanted to be, and Kara didn’t have time for this conversation. They had a dinner to attend, and it could be their last dinner together in some time.

“Then why did you even suggest it?”

“Because I have to go, Mom. There’s no other choice.”

“That’s a load of crap.” Ona’s voice was louder and stronger than Kara had heard in years. “You’re hiding something from me. I need to know what that is.”

They were sitting on an unfamiliar bed in a large room generally reserved for visiting dignitaries. Ona lived here now and would for as long as a maniac hunted Kara. It abutted Halde’s room.

Auburn wallpaper with flower patterns covered the walls, and the ceiling was vaulted with golden trim. The bed in the center of the room had four posts and a mattress soft enough to swallow a woman whole. It was the nicest room Kara had ever seen, and she wished she had time to enjoy it. Yet in less than six hours she would be on the road, in the dark.

“Mom, I’m not hiding anything.”

“You never did learn to lie, did you?”

Kara ripped her hands away and felt a hot flush. “Was I to learn from your example? You lied well enough when you told me things were fine with Father. I believed you.”

Ona wilted before Kara’s eyes. “You were only ten years old, and that’s not fair.”

“You’re right.” Kara blinked and swallowed hard. “It’s not.” Someone had almost kidnapped her today, but that was no excuse to say such things. “I’m sorry. I hate this, I hate leaving you, but I know it’s the right thing to do.”

“Why now? Why Tarna?”

“Because I can’t hide for the rest of my life.” She didn’t add,
“and because it’s the only way I can keep you from dying.”

“Just stay long enough for Halde to find out who’s after you. He’ll stop them.”

“He has an entire academy to protect.”

“He has—”

“Hundreds of people to keep safe. They don’t deserve any less, and I can protect myself.” Kara squeezed her mother’s arms. “I’m not going alone. I’ve got Byn, and Sera, and others, including Trell, the big Tellvan man I knocked out and dragged home.”

“That’s not funny anymore.”

“I know. But it’s what we have. I didn’t ask for this and neither did you, but we can’t change it. You raised me to be strong.”

“I didn’t raise you to go to war.”

“They need your help here. Remember, Halde is going to glyph someone to look just like me.”

Ona wrinkled her nose. “I still think that’s bizarre.”

“Having you here will make it convincing. People need to see you and her together. No one will believe you let me leave.”

Ona smiled, trembling with pain even Landra couldn’t ease. “Who says I will?”

“I’ll be safe in Tarna. Just stay and keep the ruse up until I’m there. We’ll figure out the rest once I arrive.”

“When did you get so foolishly brave?”

“By watching you every day,” Kara whispered, “as you fought this bloody disease.”

Ona started crying, and this time Kara couldn’t stop herself. They cried together and hugged each other. Soon it was time to head to dinner, and Kara would have been happy staying in.

She took her mother’s hand and helped her to the door. Ona was trembling, and Kara knew nights were when her mother hurt the worst. Kara had once overheard Ona explaining her symptoms to a nurse, though she never shared them with Kara.

Her mother said it felt like ants were eating her up inside.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kara asked.

Ona snorted. “Are you?”

Kara looked ahead. “It’s just ham and bread. Maybe some carrots and yams. It’s not going to kill you.”

“I love you, honey.” Ona squeezed Kara’s hand.

Kara swallowed as they walked slowly down the hall. “Me too, Mom.”

TRELL LEFT SOLYR with the others just past midnight under a slice of moon. He rode a fine mare from Solyr’s stables, a spirited white and brown filly named Chesa, and theirs was a departure unlike any he had ever seen. Mages of Solyr did things differently.

A storm of white powder rose around them, swirling furiously yet leaving its eye untouched. It hid everything more than a few paces away and howled like a dozen wolves, easily muffling the creaking of their enclosed black wagon. Jair drove that wagon, a pleasant young apprentice who had barely eaten a thing. Sera rode inside the wagon with their provisions: dried fruit, cheese, and salted meat.

“What’s happening?” Trell hurried Chesa toward Kara, who now rode a big black gelding. “Is this normal?”

“It’s bone powder!” Kara shouted back. “It’ll obscure our departure! No one can see through it, not even mages!”

The elders had dressed them all in old gray cloaks with thick hoods that were suitable for travel in any weather — torasel garb. They also had veils to obscure all but their eyes. Kara rode her horse with ease that showed she had done it before, and none of their horses seemed alarmed by the surrounding storm.

It was too loud for further conversation, so Trell rode in silence until the howling wind grew quiet. Soon he could hear the creak of wagon wheels, the huff of his mare and the huff of Kara’s horse.

“Why was it so loud?” Trell asked, in a more normal tone.

“Storms are always loud when they’re first conjured up,” Kara said. “It’s Aerial work. Some of Solyr’s best are on its walls right now, whipping up a storm for us. Once they have it steady, they don’t have to work so hard.”

“They maintain it,” Trell said, “instead of conjuring it.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed behind her veil. “Are you sure you know nothing of glyph magic?”

“Honestly?” Trell shrugged. “I’m not sure what I know.”

Enclosed lamps on the wagon’s fore and aft corners cast light their way, allowing them to see each other. The storm’s walls stretched above them, obscuring both sky and moon, and without that light, Trell doubted he could have seen anything.

Byn rode by on a chestnut gelding, tossed Trell a mocking salute, and took the fore. Kara glanced after him and looked back at Trell. “Ride up front with us. We’ll talk about it."

Trell glanced to the rear of the procession to find Aryn riding there, head down and robes pulled tightly around his form. His gelding was brown and white. “Perhaps later.”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “Later?”

Trell motioned with his eyes toward Aryn. Kara’s eyes narrowed, but she did nod. Trell dropped back as the wagon rumbled on.

Trell knew from what Halde had told them that they were taking a back road out of Solyr, one that would merge with the main road once they were clear of the Crystal Flats. They planned to reach a stretch of forest called the Brecken Woods just before daybreak, then camp until noon. Trell would have plenty of time to get to know his fellow travelers. The best way he knew to protect Kara.

The weight of the scabbard on Trell’s back and the broadsword inside comforted him, even hidden beneath his robes. Trell had tested the blade before leaving and it felt right in his hands, suitable for fighting from horseback and on foot. He wanted to wear it outside the robes – it would be difficult to draw as it was now – but Kara had told him torasels carried clubs or quarterstaffs, simple weapons for chasing off thieves. Wielding a broadsword was a bit more complex.

The white ground over which they rode remained smooth as glass, a strange sight, and neither the hooves of their horses nor the wheels of the wagon kicked up bone powder. He would ask Kara about that later. Soon enough, Aryn’s gelding snorted at Trell’s mare. Saying hello.

Aryn looked up, glanced at Trell, and pulled in his reins. The eyes behind his thick black veil looked haunted.

“What’s his name?” Trell asked.

“I wondered when Kara would send you.”

“No one sent me.”

“Sure. You just dropped back to make sure I don’t fall off my horse. I’m sure she’d enjoy that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why do you care?”

“I was there when you attacked her.”

Aryn snorted and leaned back on his horse. “I thank you for this fine animal. He’s called Spirit. I was certain Kara was going to stick me on that tiny mare.”

“It was no trouble. I prefer a lighter steed.”

“So you’re not here to gloat, and you’re not here to fight. Why are you here?”

“You were the only person I could not speak with at supper.”

“And what a sight that was. Ten fine seats at that table and the elders stick me at the end, right next to the servant’s station. I bet Kara enjoyed my inevitable comeuppance.”

“Why do you so dislike each other?”

“You’re an inquisitive sort for a man on his way to jail. How about you watch the road for bandits and I hug my horse?”

“As you wish.” Trell lightly tapped Chesa’s flanks. As his mare sped up to trot beside the wagon, Trell smiled behind his raised veil.

He suspected Aryn craved the conversation of others, and as the lonely days passed, Aryn would grow anxious to talk. Trell had planted a seed in his mind. The simplest way to keep an eye on Aryn was to first gain his confidence. Be his friend.

As Trell moved past the wagon he saw someone standing on the road to the right. A woman with dark hair and deep blue eyes, all alone in the swirling storm. “Halt!” he shouted.

Kara glanced back and Byn shouted something. Their horses turned as one. The wagon ground to a stop as Jair reacted to the shout, standing up in the driver’s seat to look back at him.

“Trell?” Kara called, as she rode back to them.

Trell blinked. Where once a woman had stood, he saw nothing now. “I saw someone.” He slid off his horse, hand reflexively reaching for his sword grip. He found robe instead and resisted the urge to rip the thick robes right off.

“You what?” Kara reined in her gelding. “In the storm?”

Another shadow danced inside the bone powder. It looked like a child — no, many of them. They were dancing.

“There are children dancing in the storm,” Trell said as calmly as he could.

“Children?” Byn followed the line of Trell’s gaze, squinting at the white powder.

“There’s nothing there.” Aryn dropped from his horse and walked over. “It’s bone powder. Your mind’s playing tricks.”

Again the shadows vanished, but others appeared in their place. Men, women and children, each visible only a moment before flickering out. Their faces were flat, featureless, but Trell could swear he knew each of them. He felt a compulsion to run into the storm.

“Trell,” Kara said, “look at me.”

Trell tore his eyes away from the storm and found hers, calm and orange. “You don’t see them?” He swallowed and looked back at the wall of swirling bone powder. The shadows were still there, still dancing. “What is it I’m seeing, then?”

“Souls.” Jair hopped down from the wagon. “You are seeing souls, Trell. They died recently. I can’t make out much else. I believe they’re speaking Tellvan, but I don’t know it and can’t be sure.”

“Drown me in burning oil,” Byn whispered. “There’s Tellvan souls wandering around out there?”

“The focus of energy from so much swirling bone powder must have drawn their attention.” Jair’s tone remained flat, almost a monotone. “It shows in the world beyond as it shows in ours and the dream world. It can be a beacon.” Jair’s eyes focused, and his tone grew normal again. “Trell, I think they came here for you.”

“Me?” Trell fought off a shiver.

“They feel a kinship. Perhaps you grew up in the same village. Regardless, they died recently and came here to say goodbye. Acknowledge them. Comfort them. Don’t be afraid.”

Trell looked back at the shadows. Only the woman remained. He could not see her face or her clothes, only her outline. She beckoned him closer, beckoned with desperation in her movements.

“It’s safe,” Jair said.

Trell walked forward as he might in a dream. He stopped just before the swirling wall of bone powder. The woman’s shadow waited on the other side. She raised her hand, palm out, and placed it against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Trell whispered. “I don’t know who you are.”

Her hand remained, and her shadow did not move. Hesitantly, Trell raised his own hand and eased his palm into the storm. He felt nothing. He wondered if it was different for her.

She made what might have been a sound — a mournful cry — and then her shadow vanished. Gone forever. Trell stood at the swirling wall, overwhelmed with loss and anguish that had no clear source. He missed that woman, longed for her, yet had no idea who she was.

She
was
dead. He knew she was dead. He turned to find Jair waiting and Byn tense on his horse, ready to leap right off. Were they worried he might run into the storm? Should he?

Trell’s mind itched as he searched for memories that were no longer there. He shuddered so hard he felt it to his bones. He walked back to his horse. He left that woman behind forever.