Sorceress of Faith (25 page)

He
led her to the chairs they’d sat in last night when she’d revived his
terrariums. When she sat, he placed a lovely black lacquered tray over her
knees. The dishes looked like fine china, but the coffee mug was sturdy. On her
plate was an omelette—since two sorts of cheese oozed out the end and the top
had a sprig of what looked like dill, she could only hope that the meal was
more than fuel.

Cautiously
she tried a bite, and moaned in pleasure at the delicious mixture of tastes.

That
pulled him from his brooding and he actually smiled. “I’d heard that Bossgond’s
meals weren’t too tasty.”

“Mmm,”
Marian said. She didn’t want to criticize Bossgond, but couldn’t disagree. “I
would have liked to interview the cook who arrived, though.”

“You
can trust Alyeka,” Jaquar said.

Marian
smiled. “Yes.” In fact, Alexa was the
only
one Marian trusted.

Meanwhile,
she enjoyed the meal he placed before her and darted looks around his den as he
sat staring into his coffee.

Tuck
had already eaten and was exploring Jaquar’s study. From the hamster’s
comments, she understood that he found it a wonderfully fragrant and
interesting place. She wanted to investigate, too, but from Jaquar’s closed
expression, figured that he’d hustle her out of his space and on to the less
intimate environs of the island as soon as she took her last sip of the
excellent coffee.

She’d
already noticed that his octagonal room captured more sunlight than Bossgond’s
round Tower.

He
had more bell jars than Bossgond—for experimenting with weather? And a lot of
what most Earth people would call magical tools—staffs of different woods and
metals,
wands
, ceremonial knives with no edge and wickedly sharp
daggers. There was also a collection of small boxes, as varied as the staffs,
and Marian longed to open them all and see what treasures they held.

The
chamber had an underlying elegance that was so much a part of Jaquar. She took
her gaze from the sweeping shelves of tidy books to the man as he lounged, and
a stray thought came that he’d be devastating in a tuxedo. Not that she’d ever
see him in one.

He
wasn’t what she’d expected. Of course she’d only met him briefly, but she’d
sensed he was trying to sweep her away with his charm. Since they’d met again,
he hadn’t acted deliberately charming at all, and she liked that.

In
fact, she liked him, and the Song that twined between them. They had much in
common—love and concern for their family, a passion for study, and weather
Power. Absently, she drained her cup and set it on the tray.

“Are
you ready?”

“Yes.”

He
whistled a note and the dishes disappeared. Marian grinned. For all the times
she’d seen the spell, it was still one of her favorites. She’d learned the task
her second evening with Bossgond.

Jaquar
tilted his head, his gaze fixed on Tuck, who was sniffing the lowest shelf of boxes.
“Tuck, Marian and I will be spending the morning outside. Will you be fine
here?”

“Yes.”
Tuck didn’t even look in their direction.

“Can
you please stay in this room?”

Tuck
hesitated, raised his head and looked at them. He bobbed. “Yes.”

“Thank
you,” Jaquar said, still polite.

His
manner toward Tuck warmed Marian. That was another thing she and Jaquar had in
common—they liked and respected Tuck. Marian had always sensed that Bossgond
wanted to dissect Tuck, searching to see if the atomball he ate was still
lodged somewhere inside.

Still
courteous, Jaquar led the way to the narrow curving stairs and started down
them. Marian carefully shut the door behind her, testing it to make sure it was
shut, then followed Jaquar.

He
strode from the bottom of the stairway turret through the hallway on the bottom
floor of his Tower and threw open the heavy front door. Bright sunshine painted
the hallway floor yellow. Interesting that both Bossgond and Jaquar had main
entrances that faced east—was that a male thing, an innate preference to look
toward Lladrana and not out to the sea, or did all main doors face east?

He
went out and stopped at the edge of a golden line—his protective spell, no
doubt—and carved a door in it with his telescoping wand that currently was the
size of Alexa’s baton.

Marian
stood at the threshold and inhaled the scent of Mue Island—it was as different
from Alf as Jaquar was from Bossgond. There was more of the mainland scent,
since the island was closer to Lladrana; there was also more ocean because the
island was smaller. The fragrances of the island soil and flowers and trees
varied subtly, and were more pleasing to her than the astringent air around
Bossgond’s tower. The atmosphere burgeoned with early summer.

Her
spirits lifted and she caught herself humming counterpoint to the tune of the
island, a tune that was one chord of the melody comprising Jaquar’s personal
Song. Then Marian sighed. Would she be here on Amee long enough to fully
develop her own Song?

The
wish to stay condensed into a hard kernel of yearning within her—something she
couldn’t fulfill if she wanted to be near Andrew.

Jaquar
motioned for her to join him. When she did, he hesitated a moment, then took
her hand, closing his fingers over hers. Warmth, and simple pleasure at the
easy link flowed through Marian and she smiled up at him.

He
returned her smile, and it reached his eyes, banishing the dark shadows of
grief.

“As
I said last night, we’ll start with wind and clouds. The best place for that is
on the western coast of the island where the wind blows in from the ocean.” He
shrugged. “There are only a couple of tiny islands that no one of the Tower
Community has claimed between Mue and the Brisay Sea.”

Excitement
bubbled through her. She would have rubbed her hands, but wanted to keep her
fingers in his. “Great!”

He
chuckled. “I don’t anticipate that you will have any problems with the
clouds—that’s Second Degree Scholar work and you are at the upper edge of Third
Degree.”

Her
step hesitated.

“What?”
he asked.

“Third
Degree means something entirely different—a negative connotation in my own
language.”

Interest
sharpened his gaze. “What?”

Oh
boy. How to define the phrase? “It is a very harsh interrogation by the
authorities.” And then “the authorities” needed explaining.

They
had walked across a meadow of tall grass to a grove of evergreen trees, and
Marian looked back to see the Tower in its entirety.

As
she’d suspected, the lower two floors were of greater diameter and the reddish
stone looked small, more like cobblestones or bricks. The other three stories
were definitely octagonal, with large pairs of pointed windows, airy and
graceful from the outside as well as the inside.

She
frowned. Every few feet around the lower two stories were jagged dark marks,
like soot or gunpowder. She stopped and stared. “What happened?”

Jaquar
tensed beside her, then replied neutrally. “Even as a Circlet, fire isn’t my
strong suit. As I raised the Tower and called Lightning, it came—and singed the
stone,
and
pointed directly to my keystone. I couldn’t clean it, so the
only option was to call it down several times to keep the stone’s location
secret.”

“There
must be twenty marks around the base of your Tower.”

Jaquar
dropped her hand, turned and strode away. “I called a lightning storm. That was
the result. I was still quite young at the time.”

It
was obviously a sore point, so she abandoned the subject and hurried to catch
up with him. “Is the meadow close?” She hadn’t walked so much since her trip to
Paris as she had the past two and a half weeks.

“Close
enough. Your practice with clouds—” he glanced up as if confirming there were
plenty to work with “—should only take a quarter-hour. Then you can progress to
other ‘air’ lessons such as Calling the Wind. The meadow is flat and also a
perfect spot to practice Wind Dancing.”

Calling
the Wind. Wind Dancing. Anticipation zipped through her. “How lovely,” she
said, and swung into step with him.

He
looked down at her and chuckled. “You’re a Sorceress through and through.”

“A
scholar,” she said, nodding. “I always have been.” Wistfully, she thought back
to her apartment, her old studies. They’d been ongoing, but not nearly as
enticing as learning magic—Power.

The
moment they reached the meadow, he put her to work. They lay side by side on
the sunny grass and looked up at the clouds. After all the time she’d spent
with the terrariums, it was easy for her to send her mind and will and Power
into the sky to shape the clouds and move them around. She was concentrating so
on proving her worth that the awareness of his big body beside hers, nearly
touching, almost didn’t register. Almost.

She
couldn’t afford the distraction of thinking about the strong aura of him, the
well-formed muscles, the thickness and sheen of his hair….

It
had definitely been too damn long since she’d had sex. And the moment
that
idea crossed her mind, the cloud she’d been herding disintegrated into a dozen
little ones. Luckily, Jaquar had just said, “Done.” Her timing had been
perfect.

Still,
she didn’t roll over to look at him, but scrambled to her feet, took a
handkerchief from her gown pocket and wiped her forehead. Then she grinned at
him, pretending the heat in her had been generated by her Power instead of
thoughts of rolling around with him. “What’s next?” she asked.

His
eyes narrowed, then took on a twinkle. The little Song between them spiked in
intensity and beat, but he replied with a smile, “Now you Call the Wind.”

16

M
arian clasped
her hands together to keep them from trembling with excitement. Her first real
use of Weather Magic came now!

Again
Jaquar’s instructions were succinct and the Songspell easy to learn. The
whistling words and rushing rhythm made innate sense to Marian, as if she’d
always known this Song. She only needed to discover it within herself.

So
she lifted her arms and spoke-sang the spell, and a gentle breeze wafted
tendrils of her hair that had escaped her braid, then died when she laughed,
forgetting to hold it. She looked to Jaquar, aching to share her delight in
this first real proof of her magic. Bossgond was so old, she didn’t think he
remembered what it felt like when magic was new and exhilarating and shooting
through your veins.

Jaquar
was relaxed, leaning against a tree and smiling at her. Since he also had the
old-memory look in his eyes, she guessed that he recalled very well how she
felt. Their eyes met. Another moment shared.

A
bubble of happiness broke from her mouth in a giggle. She lifted her hand to
put it over her mouth at the silly sound, then let her fingers drop. She didn’t
need to be anyone except her essential self here and now, did not need to wear
a mask, to project an image. So she laughed and stretched her arms high and
shouted, “Yes!” Then, “What’s next?” she asked eagerly.

He
didn’t move from the tree at the edge of the clearing, staying out of her
magical space, giving her room to work. His brows rose. “Now you summon a
stronger wind.” His gaze turned considering. He rested his hands on his hips,
nodded decisively. “I think you are ready to Call the Zephyr, the wind you will
use most often over land to modify weather, and Dance with it.” He swept a
judging glance over her and she sensed he was examining the potency and energy
of her Power. “Ready?”

Marian
shifted, settled into a stance that connected her with the island. “Yes.”

“This
is the Zephyr Songspell.” He sang it and the richness of his tenor thrilled her
so, that she had to ask him for the first words again. She flushed when she
didn’t get it right the first time. Patiently he repeated the words.

She
mouthed the whole Song to herself, then looked at him with drawn brows. “Can I
alter a few words? They seem a little—” she opened and closed her hands as if
trying to grasp something “—masculine. Or something.”

He
tilted his head. “Which words do you want to alter? Tell me your Song.”

Running
through it again with the minor modifications, she waited, not breathing, until
he nodded. “That will do fine. You
are
a quick study, and progressing,
too, if you are shaping the Songs to fit you.”

She
nodded in return, licked her lips and loosened her shoulders. Then she raised
her arms and sang.

The
breeze spun around her, bringing all the scents of spring—the wildflowers as
well as the awakening soil, the hints of dark pine and fading blossoms from the
forested hills—and she laughed in delight.

“Keep
control,” Jaquar instructed, “but provide more energy, more Power, more
stirring and
push
. See if you can have it lift you from your feet. The
air is already in motion, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”