Sorceress of Faith (4 page)

The
two looked at each other again.

“We’re
all concerned with the defense of Lladrana and now finding the master who
directs the monsters to invade,” Chalmon said.

Smiling
coldly, Jaquar said, “If anyone wants to challenge me for leadership, I’m
available.”

Venetria
dipped her head. “So noted.”

Chalmon
shrugged, turned the subject. “No Sorcerer or Sorceress could pass. No
Lladranan with Power could breech the shield. That means we use someone from
the Exotique land. Someone for the Tower community. Our Exotique.”

“We
could ask the Exotique Alyeka,” Venetria said.

“She’s
one of the Marshalls. We can’t be indebted to them. We’d lose our
independence,” Chalmon snapped.

“Summoning
our Exotique is already planned,” Jaquar said.

“The
master said, ‘No Lladranan can harm the nest,’ as if just the presence of one
who is
not
Lladranan can hurt the Dark.”

“A
natural weapon,” Chalmon breathed.

“Think
what she’ll be like when she’s trained!” Venetria said.

Jaquar
said, “The Summoning Song will bring to Lladrana a person who will work well
with us.”

Venetria
sucked in a breath. “Yes, but she must be strong if we are going to send her to
the nest.”

Jaquar
said, “Any Exotique the Marshalls can contact will naturally be strong. As
eldest and most powerful of the Tower, I believe Bossgond sent the Marshalls a
list of the proper qualities.” Jaquar felt his mouth twist. “Bossgond didn’t
notify me, but I received an acknowledgment from the Marshalls.”

Frowning,
Chalmon said, “Bossgond didn’t tell me, either. It is time he breaks this
hermit existence.”

“I’m
sure he’d be glad to hear you tell him so,” Venetria said sweetly.

Chalmon
continued. “The Exotique must be well-trained before we send him or her to this
master you discovered, Jaquar. He or she must at least be trained enough to
report what is found in the nest.”

“We
may not have that luxury,” Jaquar said. “Not if the maw spews out more
sangviles, as well as the other horrors—the slayers and soul-suckers and
renders.”

“And
dreeths.” Venetria shivered. She’d barely survived a battle with one of the
winged lizards.

Chalmon
scowled. “Yes, we must be prepared to sacrifice the Exotique, for the good of
Lladrana, for the planet Amee herself. Knowledge is more important than one
life. If worse comes to worst, we could attach a reporting orb to her and send
her with a destruction spell—perhaps she’d be able to untie that weapon knot
you have.”

“I
would go myself, if I could,” Jaquar said.

Venetria
looked at him sharply. “You are the best plane-walker. You already tried. Do
you think the shield applies to all planes?”

Again
Jaquar’s laughter was bitter. “It applied to as many as I could reach within
the limits of the spell—twenty or so. I’m not sure exactly where or what the
physical location is, but it’s big.”

Making
a note, Chalmon said, “Other things to research—the shield, whether it is only
magical or is physical also. Where the nest could be. When the Exotique comes,
I’ll train him or her.”

“No!
If she’s female, like the last one, she will want a woman as teacher!” Venetria
said.

“The
new Exotique is mine,” Jaquar insisted.

Now
Chalmon barked laughter. “All of us will want to work with someone so Powerful.
This is exactly why we need the Marshalls to Summon her. We don’t work well
together.” He shot a glance at his lady. “Sometimes not even those who are
intimate with each other.”

Jaquar’s
heart tore. His father and mother had been an excellent team, stronger together
than apart. Perhaps that’s what had drawn the sangvile to them.

Chalmon
and Venetria sniped at each other, then Chalmon faced him.

“We’ll
call a Gathering for tomorrow at the Parteger Island amphitheater to discuss
all this,” Chalmon said. “I’ll move the process along.”

Venetria
sent him a fulminating glance, then looked back to Jaquar. “What is the
Marshalls’ price for the Summoning?”

Jaquar
said, “I promised them objects, not favors. Some books, most of which are
duplicates in
all
our libraries. Whatever magical weapons we have. Old battlespells.”

“A
price easy to meet,” Chalmon said.

Venetria
nodded. “Yes. I think I only have two weapons in my Tower—what of you?”

“One,”
Jaquar said, but it was an incredible one, something that perhaps only an
Exotique could handle.

“I
have four,” Chalmon said.

“Of
course you must pretend you’re the best,” Venetria said. And then they were
arguing again.

“I’ll
coordinate with the Marshalls as necessary in the days to come,” Jaquar said.
He wouldn’t lie to the Marshalls, but he wouldn’t welcome them unless he had a
use for them.

With
thumb and forefinger, Jaquar tapped the crystal and Chalmon and Venetria
disappeared. An hour later he had sent the contract and books as first payment
to the Marshalls for the Summoning.

Then
he crossed to his armchair and sat again, letting the soft, old leather settle
around his body. He wondered if the other Circlets had forgotten one very
important thing, and if they had, whether he could take advantage of it.

The
Singer, the Oracle of Lladrana, had prophesied that the next Exotique would be
best suited for the community of the Tower. The Singer had also told them of
the time of the next Summoning—when the Dimensional Gates between Lladrana and
the Exotique land aligned. The Marshalls knew this. It was tomorrow night.

In
all the history of the Tower, the Sorcerers and Circlets had never come to an
agreement in a day. Chalmon was too optimistic. He wouldn’t be able to forge a
plan amongst all the individual personalities of the Tower.

Jaquar
sank back into his chair to sleep. It would be a long time before he could face
his bedroom adorned with the quilt his mother had made and the landscapes his
father had painted.

He
would not argue with the rest of the Sorcerers and Sorceresses at Parteger
Island, had no intention of compromising. The Exotique was his. For knowledge.
For vengeance.

Colorado

The
next evening

P
ower hung in the
air like a fine mist ready to condense into dewdrops. It shimmered with every
ripple of chimes, every strike of the gong—the music only Marian could hear,
had heard for the past month. Now the sounds reverberated in a pattern that set
her nerves humming as she finished taping a ten-foot red pentagram on her
living room carpet.

She
took a shaky breath as she connected the last line of the star-shaped pattern
and sank back on her heels to calm her excitement. She wiped her damp palms on
the sweats she’d put on after her bath. Biting her lip, she examined everything
again. She’d had to scramble to craft the ritual, to get the herbs and tools. There’d
been no time to practice.

No
negativity, not now. No doubts
. So she shoved them aside.

Soon
the exact moment of the full moon would finally come and it would be time to
act. To perform a ritual that would bring great change into Andrew’s life and her
own. To ask for what she wanted most, a miracle—a healthy brother.

In
order to clear enough space to tape the pentacle, she’d had to stack books
around the edges of the room, evidence that her hunger for knowledge had
burgeoned until it was nearly a craving. She felt like the Chinese Dragon, ever
pursuing the Pearl of Wisdom. Someday she’d find just the right knowledge that
would make her whole, or set her free: the key to herself.

Marian
stood and put away the tape. She checked the alcove where her hamster Tuck sat
blinking at her in a corner of his plastic cage. He seemed to feel something
unusual, too, since both his cheek pouches were huge with food.

“Nothing
to worry about, Tuck.” She smiled at him, then rubbed her arms. Crossing to the
door of her garden-level apartment, she pushed aside the small curtain over the
door’s window to look out. Twilight was falling.

Hands
on her hips, she scanned the rest of her preparations; her altar was fine, the
notes for her ritual were on her PDA in the pentagram. A small spiral of smoke
from the incense burner twisted, sending lily-of-the-valley scent through the
room. The smoke sparkled silver.

Marian
blinked, narrowed her eyes and stared. The glitter in the powder shouldn’t
carry up into the smoke, and she thought she’d seen a flash for an instant.
Maybe. Maybe not. Tonight was a night for stretching all she was, experiencing
all she could.

With
a sigh she looked at her gray sweats, still wavering between doing the ritual
in a gossamer crocheted cotton broomstick gown or nude. She should be less
self-conscious, able to accept her plumpness as pleasing.

Just
as she was about to shuck her sweats for the gauze dress, the telephone rang.
She glanced at the clock and bit her lip. It was only an hour before the full
moon and she’d wanted to be at the climax of the ritual when that occurred. She
debated answering the call. Hesitated. Then she ran across the living room
floor, hopping over the star-points to reach the kitchen and pick up the
telephone.

“Hey,
sis.” Andrew’s light voice floated across the line, and she smiled.

“Hey
back.”

There
was a heartbeat’s pause. “Is everything okay there? I had a feeling…” he said.

“Everything’s
fine.” She eyed the red-taped pentagram on the floor.

“Candace
isn’t giving you grief over anything, is she?” Their mother had asked Andrew at
the age of four not to call her any variation of “Mommy.”

“She
wanted me to attend a benefit tonight, but I…wanted to study.” She
was
studying, learning.

Andrew
groaned. “Yeah, the Colorado Charities. Sent her a check for them, and one for
the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation of Colorado, too. She didn’t say thank-you,
but I believe she was pleased. I don’t have much contact with her anymore.
Might be better for your mental health if you backed away, too.”

“I
will, soon,” Marian said.

Andrew’s
snort came through the phone line. “Wrong. You’re always trying to reconcile
with her. It’s a girl thing. Or maybe it’s just that you think a perfect life
should have mother-daughter happiness. Too bad your dad didn’t leave you as
well off as mine did me—you wouldn’t be at her beck and call over that college
fund.”

He
didn’t offer her money from his trust fund, and Marian was glad. “How are
things going with you?” she asked.

“I
get it, previous subject closed. I’m doing good, sis. Turned in the new game
project today and I’m going off on sabbatical.” He paused, then words rushed
from the phone. “I’m in remission right now, but—uh—I’ve had a few incidents—”

“Andrew!”
Fear spurted through her.

“—and
I want to try out that program we talked about last year, the one set on
Freesan Island in the San Juans. Sort of a retreat, and they want us to
minimize contact with outsiders. The codependency thing, you know.”

“Andrew!”

“So
I won’t be available or calling you for about six weeks.”

“Did
you do another check on these people? The system?”

Andrew
laughed. “You always have to be in control, sis. Not an issue I’ve ever had.”

No,
Andrew had always been at the mercy of his condition, his workaholic father and
a series of stepmothers, most of whom found him distressing.

He
continued. “The camp’s A-Okay. I know you’re frowning—”

The
warmth in his voice almost made her smile.

“But
they aren’t after my money and won’t sell me to labs for experimentation,” he
said. “Dr. Chan recommends the program and you know how much we both trust her.
I also had my financial advisor and my private investigator check it out.”

“They’ll
be careful with you?”
Oops
. “Tuck worries about you.” Now she knew he
was rolling his eyes.

“Sis!”
A slight pause.
His voice deepened. “I’m a man. I know how to work around my health issues. I
plan to live life, not merely exist.”

“All
right, all right. You have my blessing. Go and enjoy yourself.” She didn’t know
why those phrases rolled from her lips. But they both knew the day-to-day risk
he lived with.

“Hey,
I was the one with the funny feeling, not you. Make sure Tuck takes care of
himself. Oh, and you take care of yourself, too. Uh—by the way, will the
weather be good?”

A
familiar
feeling
whispered through Marian. “It should be pleasant but
cool to start off with, then showers. Take your rain gear.”

“Will
do. Love ya. Bye.” He smooched into the phone and hung up.

When
Andrew left Colorado for California, he’d made it clear that he wanted to live
as much as he could on his own. He wanted
her
to pursue her studies in
Boulder as she’d planned, so she’d made herself let him go. He had been as
desperate to live independently as she had been. Currently he had a
housekeeper, a nurse who specialized in caring for people with MS. The matronly
woman had separate quarters in his home. Andrew had a car and driver.