Keepers of the Flame (30 page)

I
am Nuare.

I
am Bri
.

It
shifted, opened wings longer than its body.

I
am female
.

Bri
swallowed.
Will you be raising your young in the tower?
She liked the
place, had slept well there, wanted it for her own, but in a fight between a
big alien bird and herself, she figured she’d be running to the pretty house.

I
will not lay eggs this year, though I may mate in the autumn
.

Something
in her mind tone made Bri take a step back.
Ayes?

This
year you Exotiques will fight the Dark. Either you will win, or you will die
and the country will be overrun by monsters. I and my kind will leave for
another land
.

Bri
swallowed hard, stood straight.
I do not stay. We, my sister and I, will
find the cure for the sickness affecting the people here, but our parents will
grieve for us if we do not return.

The
roc clicked her beak, but said nothing. Once again she took a couple of steps
and opened her wings.

Sevair
cleared his throat. She angled her body so she could see him and keep the roc
in view.

He
bowed with much elegance and flourishing. “My apologies for interrupting your
conversation, Madame Roc. Your lovely Song graces our city. Welcome.”

Smooth
talker. Bri hadn’t expected that.

Nuare
preened.
Thank you, He-Who-Shapes-Stone-In-The-Sky.

Sevair
blinked. “Sevair Masif, at your service.”

Sevair
Massif. I will roost on the tower roof, above the Exotique’s nest. Bri, we will
fly together later. Now I am hungry and I will hunt.
She spiraled
beautifully up into the sky, cast them in shadow, then flew over the wall. Bri
heard her heart pounding.

“A
young, female roc has come to roost in Castleton,” Sevair said thoughtfully.
“You Exotiques are certainly interesting.” He scrutinized the square stone
building jutting out at a right angle from the city wall.

“Ronteran’s
tower. I should have known.”

“What?
Who?” Bri asked.

Sevair
lifted a shoulder, dropped it. “Supposedly resided in by the Circlet who helped
found and build Castleton. It is said to be haunted, or cursed.” A corner of
his mouth quirked up. “Or blessed.”

Bri
studied the tower in the light. Solid and rectangular, with the small octagonal
stair tower on the right, it looked like it would last for several more
centuries. Now and then there was a glint of crystal in a stone. Two large,
fancy iron brackets held two more roughly spherical crystals.

“Abandoned
for a decade,” Sevair said. “Such is its life-cycle. Restored, then abandoned.”
He shrugged. “Sounds like it will be my turn to restore it.” He frowned at her.
“I’m still not happy about you staying where the sangvile laired.” He glanced
upward. Nuare was returning with a large branch. “The roc will offer some
protection.” His lips thinned. “I’ve heard they like eating remnants of the
horrors. Rocs like spiders. She might have found the sangvile particularly
tasty.”

“Nuare
was munching on old sangvile bits when we met.”

“Nuare,”
Sevair breathed the word softly. Stepped closer to Bri, touched her shoulder.
“She did not tell me her name. You should remember that names are important
here in Lladrana. They can be used against you, Bri.”

She
opened her mouth, shut it. “Bri is not my real name. It is a shortening.”

He
nodded. “A nickname. And I would suppose that Elizabeth has a nickname she
thinks of herself as.”

Bri
doubted that Elizabeth had thought of herself as “Beth” for a long time. Well,
they both had middle names, too. She tilted her head. “What of you? Is Sevair
Masif your full name?”

“Yes,
but it is not my childhood nickname. I could be Summoned by the formal name,
but not coerced to do anything else since I still think of myself as my young
name.” His smile was a curve of the lips and sadness in his eyes. “My family is
gone. There are precious few who might recall my nickname.”

Rustling
came from above, echoed a little in the cul de sac. Sevair scanned the small
street. “At least the neighborhood is good, if not filled with people of Power.
What is it with Exotiques and towers?” grumbled Sevair.

“We
don’t have them,” Bri replied absently.

“What!”

She
glanced at him, noted his clothes were already coated with dust and dirt.

“You’re
an architect.” She made a sweeping gesture encompassing the city as well as the
tower. “This style of building went out of fashion centuries ago for us. Where
we live we don’t have towers.”

“You
tear down the past!”

All
too often, but Bri wasn’t going to get into that. “The area where we lived
belonged to a nomadic people. They didn’t build towers.” No need to get into
American history, either.

“We
need the walls and towers for security against the Dark. We have always been
conscious of peril.”

Bri
believed that.

She
followed him into the dim room. He studied the door, shaking his head. “It will
have to be replaced.” He glanced at the pointed arch of the door opening, then
the rectangular wooden door, grunted. With ease he picked up the door and set
it to one side of the threshold. “We’ll get a new one today.” His look and
smile at her was brief. “Everyone donated their services for the house. They’ll
do so again.”

Bri
winced. “I’m sorry about the house, it, um….”

“It
just doesn’t suit you,” Sevair said mildly. “We had hoped…” He shrugged. “A
house must suit its owner.”

Bri
decided not to point out that she wouldn’t be owning any property in Lladrana.

Then
he stepped into the center of the chamber and did a slow circle, eyes closed.
Checking the Song? The ambience of the place? Never in a million years could
Bri imagine a U.S. construction worker or straight male architect closing his
eyes to
feel
a place. At least not with someone else around. She smiled.
Fascinating.

Sevair
opened his eyes, nodded. “The roc has been here, cleaned the place up from the
sangvile.” He walked around the walls, nodded at the carving on the
wainscoting. “Very nice. Needs to be cleaned and oiled.” He glanced at the
floor and Bri noticed that the stone had little crystals in it like the blocks
in the outer wall, and there were no chips.

“Good
work by Ronteran,” Sevair said. He went to the far right back corner, and
opened the door of a triangular cabinet that rose the full height of the room.
“Toilet and sink,” he said, pulled the flush chain and nodded when the plumbing
worked. “This might not be too tough or expensive a job,” he said and headed up
the stairs.

The
city alarm bell rang. Sevair stopped, tensed.

Elizabeth’s
urgent mental voice came to Bri.
Come to the Castle at once. One of the
independent Chevaliers was wounded in battle last night and the medicas here
have seen nothing like it.

Like
what?
Elizabeth wasn’t usually so imprecise.

I
haven’t seen anything like the injury, the sickness, either,
she said
grimly.

Injury
or sickness?
Goosebumps rose on Bri’s skin, and the hairs on the back of her neck.

Both,
Elizabeth said.

“You’re
needed at the Castle,” Sevair said, evidently understanding the pattern of the
tolling bell.

We
fly!
screeched Nuare, sticking her head in the door.

Who
was that?
Elizabeth asked sharply.

The
twist in Bri’s gut eased a little.
Wait until you see
.

Come
now
,
Elizabeth ordered, then hesitated.
It’s bad. Marian and Jaquar are on the
way.

I’m
coming.
Bri ran out.

23

S
evair followed,
brow knit in concentration. “I’ll set everything up with the head of the guilds
for work on your tower. See you later.”

Mud
had already landed in the cul de sac, lifted again when she saw Nuare. The
volaran’s Song shrieked rage and fear.

“Mud!”
Sevair called. His brows dipped farther and Bri could
feel
the Power he
sent toward Mud, trying to contact her mind, merge with it, control the
volaran’s unruly emotions.

Stupid
volaran. I will not eat it,
said Nuare.
It is wild volaran, too spicy.

“I’m
sure that’s a great comfort,” Bri muttered. Nuare had hunched down, stuck out
her leg for Bri to mount.

I
will not eat you, either. Unless the Dark taints you.

Bri
put her foot back on the ground. “What!”

Nuare
shook her wings.
We must hurry
.

Bri
saw a soothing Sevair ambling down the street toward a nervous Mud.

Nuare
screeched. Sevair flung himself on Mud and hung on as the volaran zoomed into
the sky. Bri figured she no longer had a volaran.

Now!
Nuare demanded.

Bri
stepped on the outthrust leg, slid onto the roc’s back and kept slipping down.
This wouldn’t work.

Arms
around my neck, human!

Adventure
was not all it was cracked up to be, didn’t match the imagination. But then,
most wanted
safe
adventure. Bri threw her arms around Nuare and held on
tight.

The
roc took off faster and at a steeper angle than Mud.

Of
course. I am made for flight, unlike those clumsy horse-things.
She turned her
head and Bri saw a whirling sapphire eye. Nuare’s beak clicked. Bri realized it
was supposed to be reassuring. Wasn’t.

Good
that you smell nice
,
Nuare said.
Like special Power and strange land. I will not be eating you.

Uh,
do you think you should be going to the Castle?

I
have eaten for the day. Castle volarans and Chevaliers and Marshalls who fight
the Dark are safe. They must live.

“Okay.”
Bri let out a breath, inhaled. The roc smelled good, too. “We agree.”

Then
they landed in Temple Ward, Nuare making a sensation. Elizabeth waved from the
cloister outside the keep.

All
the volarans in the courtyard launched into the sky, carrying surprised
Chevaliers and Marshalls.

Bri
controlled her fall off Nuare.

We
must practice,
said Nuare.
Your grip was too tight. A small rope for you to hold would be
good, perhaps a perch for you.
She roughened her feathers and began
preening again.
I will hold court here and discuss matters with the Marshalls.

“Ayes,”
Bri said. She waved at Nuare and ran across the ward.

For
a moment she couldn’t attract Elizabeth’s attention from the bird. “What’s
that?”

“Who?
A roc.”
Her name is Nuare,
she added mentally.

Elizabeth
shook her head. “Amazing. Beautiful.” She focused on Bri and her expression
turned intense and grim. “Come on.”

But
by the time they reached the healing room, a medica with a strained expression
on her face was pulling a cover over a young woman’s face.

“No!”
Elizabeth cried. “I just left her for a moment.”

There
were three medicas in the room along with Alexa and the middle-aged woman who
led the Chevaliers. All the medicas shook their heads.

“She
died as soon as you crossed the threshold of the room,” a medica said.

Elizabeth
put on her doctor’s face and walked up to the corpse, removed the sheet. She
glanced at Bri. “Come on, I want to examine the body.”

Bri
opened her mouth to protest. Shut it. She wasn’t used to autopsies. When she’d
worked in refugee camps, she’d lost patients, but when they were gone, they
were gone. Cause of death was usually pretty clear.

Elizabeth
had already set her hands on the body and was frowning in concentration. She,
of course, had had a lot of experience with dying, death and autopsies. Bri
wasn’t going to let her sister down.

Since
life had flown from the Chevalier, Bri didn’t bother to place her hands where
they’d do the most good, but set them beside Elizabeth’s.

“Look
inside her,” Elizabeth said.

Bri
looked.

“See
that wisp of gray?” Elizabeth asked.

“Like
the frink sickness.” A spider web covered the inside of the body, diminishing
as they watched, and seemed more spiritual than physical.

“I
believe so,” Elizabeth said. “But more virulent.”