Sorceress of Faith (37 page)

So
he dozed and finally heard Alexa return—alone. He dressed quickly in just a
robe and walked to the volaran stables. The night was quiet, the sky blazing
with stars. Except for a patrolling guard, he was the only one abroad. Even
when he passed from Temple Ward to Lower Ward, he saw few people. If Chevaliers
were partying, it was in the Nom de Nom or the tiny inn in the outer Castle
wall.

He
met Bastien as the man exited from the stable passage into the ward. Bastien
stood and stretched, breathing deeply. He smelled of sweat—volaran and his
own—and other odors that Jaquar didn’t want to identify.

Bastien
grinned and joined him. “Beautiful night!”

“The
volaran mare?”

“Very
fine! With a fine filly.”

“Excellent.”

“That
it is.” Bastien made to throw an arm around Jaquar’s shoulders and chuckled as
he stepped aside. “So, Circlet, what do you want of me? Permission to raise a
Tower in the middle of Horseshoe Close, here?”

“As
if you could grant such.”

Bastien
laughed, touched the baton at his hip. “I have more influence now.”

“I’ve
come to speak of the Dark.” Feeling a little wary of the shadows, Jaquar walked
to the middle of the ward and slowly began to return to Alexa’s tower. Bastien
accompanied him. “Is this about plane-walking and finding a maw of evil?”

“You’ve
heard?”

Bastien
shrugged. “Rumors.”

Jaquar
told him of his first trip to the nest and the master’s words, then laid out
his new plan.

“No,”
Bastien said flatly, muscles tense. He was all warrior now. He swept his
fingers through his black-and-silver hair. “I can’t plane-walk. I don’t have
the control due to the remnants of my wild Power. I am Alexa’s Shield, her
protector, her Pairling. I will not allow her to fly into this battle without
me.”

They’d
neared the gate to Temple Ward, and didn’t speak until they’d passed through
and were beyond the guards’ hearing.

Bastien
frowned. “Besides, Alexa is an Exotique. She is tied to Amee by me, and the
rest of the Marshalls, but her bond with the world is not as strong as that of
someone who was born here. She could get lost among the planes.” He glanced at
Jaquar. “If it were on
this
physical plane, we’d fight, but not
otherwise.”

“It
is Marian’s task, then, to fight the Dark in its nest.” Bile rose in Jaquar’s
throat. He’d make sure she didn’t go in alone, and that she was Circlet of the
Fifth Degree before they attempted it.

“No,”
Bastien said, and it took a moment for Jaquar to realize what he’d heard.

He
stopped outside the Assayer’s Office and stared at Bastien. “No?”

Bastien
shook his head. “I can’t think her task is to destroy the nest all by herself.
Powerful as she is, I don’t think she could do it. She might harm it, but if
she didn’t destroy the Dark, too, the nest would regenerate.”

“True.”

Walking
to the entryway of the Keep, Bastien said, “All indications show that every
community of Lladrana must be integrated and cooperating to destroy the Dark.”

“Also
true.” They’d reached the landing below Marian’s suite.

“Don’t
say anything about this to the Marshalls’ Council tomorrow morning. I want to
tell Alexa myself, and I need awhile to figure out how to do that.”

“Very
well,” Jaquar said, and watched Bastien take the stairs up.

His
plan was ruined, but only he and Bastien knew. Jaquar had a couple of days to
come up with a new one, but he wouldn’t do it alone; he must consult with
Bossgond.

He
entered the suite and watched Marian sleep. Her skin was so pale in the
moonlight, her body so beautiful, her expression so pleased, it made him ache.

Jaquar
went and showered, then returned to her. As he slowly woke her, caressed her
into moaning passion and took her on another wild ride, he wondered how long he
would have her.

He
loved seeing the passion and affection in her eyes, the hint of hero-worship.
That would die when he warned her, told her what he himself had set in motion.

He’d
dealt with too many deaths lately.

I
t was dawn when
Chalmon dismissed the Circlets and Scholars who had been practicing the Sending
ritual and looked at Venetria. “Your contribution to the Sending Song was weak.
I can’t do it without you.”

“Even
though I don’t agree with you?”

His
lips quirked. “If you were violently against this, you’d be throwing things at
my head. Preferably my glassware.” His face hardened. “But it
must
be
done. The nest will open again soon, I know it!” He shrugged and moved around
the room restlessly in an atypical manner.

Venetria
narrowed her eyes. He was sensing something she wasn’t—she could tell through
the fluctuations in their Song. His Power picked up minute variations in the
Amee’s Song. Venetria shivered.

“It
will be bad, very bad if the maw spews out horrors at this time.”

She
hesitated. “Perhaps we should consult the Singer.”

He
barked laughter. “You think I didn’t consider that? I visited her the night
before last and was granted an audience. Not a Song, for she knew our affairs
as usual, but a meeting. Apparently she’s received many Songs recently. No
wonder.” He strode to the model of the nest he’d made. She didn’t follow. The
thing disturbed her with its slow, inimical pulsing.

Venetria
asked, “What did the Singer say?”

Another
short laugh that was no laugh at all. “One sentence. ‘Do what you must do.’”

She
just stared at him. “That’s all?”

Pacing,
he nodded sharply. “I had the feeling that the Singer had received many
conflicting Songs of future events.” He stopped and pivoted to face her, his
Song all determination.

“We
must continue with our plan.”

The
cry escaped her. “Send an untrained woman into the maw!”

“Partially
trained and very, very Powerful. If anyone has the chance to destroy the nest
and live, it is Exotique Marian. We’ll watch. There is a good chance that once
she opens the nest it will be vulnerable to us!” He frowned. “As for being
untrained—who knows but that raw Power might be more effective against the nest
than trained? The more she is instructed, becomes a Circlet, the more she is
learning Amee’s ways and dimming her Exotique Terre essence.”

“That’s
merely rationalization.”

He
swung on her in fury. “You think so? I don’t. If you cannot help me in this…”
He didn’t end the sentence.

She
knew what he meant and her heart seemed to shatter into a thousand fragments,
only held together by sheer will. Or perhaps her terror of losing him. She
couldn’t breathe. Her studies had lost much of their allure and now he was the
most important thing in her life. She didn’t think he felt the same, and didn’t
dare tell him. She said, “I will Sing with you.”

He
straightened, his expression calmer—had he, too, feared their Song would break?

M
arian awoke to
the doorharp, followed by a knock:
“Shave and a haircut. Two bits.”
She
smiled sleepily. Despite the fact that Alexa would stay in Lladrana, some of
her thought processes would be pure Earthling for as long as she lived.

But
Marian didn’t want to think of Alexa’s life span. Like Andrew’s, it could be
far too short.

Untangling
herself from Jaquar, who grunted and reached out an arm to keep her close,
Marian rose from the bed, grabbed the purple robe and opened the door.

Alexa
grinned up at her, noted the purple robe and rolled her eyes. “I see the
Marshalls were ready for you. There’s probably a robe like that in every
building’s baths.”

“Huh,”
Marian said brilliantly.

“Do
you want to join the Marshalls’ Council Meeting this morning?”

Marian
just stared at her in horror.

Alexa
laughed. “Guess not. Well, there’s plenty to explore around the Castle.” She
waved. “Feel free.”

“I
thought I might visit the baths again.”

Chuckling,
Alexa said, “A woman after my own heart. The most private is the Ritual Bathing
Pool in the Temple, but it’s also the coolest.”

Marian
would like to get a good look at the Temple and discover if there was any
possibility that she could Send herself back to Boulder on her own.

Alexa
whistled sharply. Marian jumped, then goggled as Jaquar appeared beside her,
fully clothed in his maroon Sorcerer’s robe and wearing his Circlet of figured
gold. Dressed for success. Wow. She’d have to learn that trick.

Looking
approving, Alexa smiled. “Come along, Jaquar. I’ll excuse Marian from the
meeting, but not you. I’m sure the Marshalls have lots of questions about
what’s been going on in the Tower Community.”

Jaquar
darted a glance at Alexa. Then he brushed back Marian’s hair and kissed her
lips softly. “Good morning.”

She
couldn’t help smiling up at him with all the far-too-gooey feelings she felt
for him. “Good morning, Jaquar.”

“Well,
it looks like another example of a Lladranan man being a fabulous lover,” Alexa
said with a chuckle.

Jaquar
just raised an eyebrow. He turned to Marian, caught her around the waist with a
hard arm and ravished her mouth. He left her mind reeling, heat welling inside
her. She stepped away from him, gave him a little push to send him on his way
to a dreary meeting.

“Go
away, you two.”

“See
you later,” Alexa said. “You might want to visit the brithenwood garden. I’d
like to know what you think of it.”

Marian
found her gown and underwear in the bathroom. They hung suspended in air in the
shower stall, and she just stared for a moment, mouth open. Nibbling her lip,
she deduced that Jaquar had “washed” them with some sort of spell, particularly
since his shirt, trousers and loincloth also floated midair. That thought, of
course, made her wonder if he was wearing anything under his elegant robe. She
banished the distracting idea and dressed.

The
Keep was cool, as was the cloister walk outside it, but the day was sunny and
bright. Only a few soldiers and a couple of Chevaliers were around as she
strode up the walk and stopped under the Temple portico. The door to the Temple
was huge and wooden, but all she did was lift the iron ring of the latch and it
swung inward, opening, the scent of incense wafting out.

She
let the ring slip from her grasp and took a step into the dim building, closing
the door behind her. For a moment she just stood as her eyes adjusted to the
light. The room was fully as big as she remembered, sectioned off here and
there by intricately carved screens that didn’t reach the high ceiling.

Following
the curve of the wall, she explored. Most of the wall on each side of the door
held a built-in stone bench with velvet cushions, and piles of lush pillows
here and there. She ducked around all the screens and found a dining room, a
toilet closet with sink and octagonal, tiled tub, even a place to sleep that
held several mattresses covered in silk. There were fireplaces, and light came
from the high windows.

The
ceiling showed huge beams studded with Power-storage crystals and
wheel-chandeliers. Very interesting.

Finally
she moved to the area of the room that held the altar and a large pool. When
Summoned, she’d thought the pentacle that the Marshalls had used was incised in
the stone. Since Bossgond and Jaquar both had permanent pentagrams, she’d
continued to think so, but her memory had played her false. Hands on hips, eyes
narrowed, she scanned the room, tested her Power against it and received
incredible echoes of great spells, bell-tones from the crystals above and the
chakra lamp-chimes.

There
was no permanent star and circle. Which meant that the Marshalls created the
symbols when necessary, probably drawing and angling them in the direction that
would vibrate the best with their goals.

Scrutinizing
the stones, she found a bit of a vermilion outline of the pentacle that she’d
fallen into. She also discovered an almost flaming blue-green line that might
have been the color of the pentacle used to Summon Alexa, if her memory of the
images Bossgond showed her were true.

Hands
clasped behind her to prevent her curious fingers from betraying her by
touching the altar, she noted the tools, gleaming with a polish from use and
care. The lamp-chimes drew her. Different-colored candleholders looked cut from
gemstones. A small mallet lay near them, and Marian could recall the Power of
the sounds wrung from them. Her fingers itched to take the mallet and run it
across the seven chimes. Would they sound different unlit? What of the size of
the candle, or the candle’s wick—would that affect the sound? Marian didn’t
know.

She
studied the gong. It looked to be about nine feet in diameter and of hammered,
polished silver, with not a smidgeon of tarnish. Again she wanted to unclasp
her hands and test—flick a finger and thumbnail against the gong, see what
happened.