Sorceress of Faith (55 page)

“Don’t
be so dramatic,” she said. As if already forgetting her cruel words, she
air-kissed Marian’s cheek as the chauffeur came around to open your door.
“Bye-bye, Marian.” She slid into the back seat of the car.

Just
before the door closed, Marian saw the mask drop from Candace’s face. It sagged
with fatigue and sickness. Candace didn’t know this might be the last time
she’d see Marian. Candace really didn’t care.

Hurt
washed over Marian as the taillights of the car blurred in her vision. She
stumbled to a bench flanking the doors to the hall. For a moment she just sat,
absorbing the verbal slaps her mother had dealt her. Her shoulders slumped.
There would be no rationalizing the words away, pretending they didn’t happen,
pretending Candace didn’t mean them. With the closing of her car door, Candace
had snapped the mother-daughter bond.

It
was so fragile it had disintegrated into dust, and any remnants would be blown
away by the time Marian reached Boulder.

T
he next day
Marian awoke with a screaming headache and burning muscles. Daylight stabbed
pain into her eyes. She stumbled from bed a couple of times to take aspirin,
splash her face with cooling water, then return to sleep. Once, as she passed
Tuck’s cage, she tested the theory that everything had been a fever dream and
opened the plastic lid to find him.

He
was gone.

A
glance at the taped pentacle in the living room showed that her PDA was gone,
too.

She
retreated to bed and slept the day and the night away.

Sunday
morning she awoke ravenous. Once again she checked what she could to see again
if her time in Lladrana had been a dream.

No
Tuck.

No
PDA.

And
a beautiful purple velvet gown hung in her closet, with a container of jerir, a
yellow stone and a crumpled piece of paper in the pocket.

As
she ate breakfast, she studied the parchment. It
was
parchment, made
from some finely scraped animal skin. The ink had dried bright and vivid,
unlike most standard Earth inks, more like the ink of illuminated manuscripts
that were specially made—of ground semiprecious stones, weren’t they?

The
second thing she did was log onto the Internet and searched for “Lladrana,”
“jerir,” “Circlet,” and any other unique words that might indicate other
travelers.

Nothing.

No
scientific data on Dimensional Corridors.

She
walked to campus and around it, enjoying the late-spring day, the comfortably
familiar sounds and sights of other students. She stopped and stared at her
department building and thought of her future there.

After
she made sure she was unobserved, she Sang a tiny wind into being. It swirled
over a few grass blades, then died. The effort to call the wind was about
triple what she would need to do the same on Amee. It left her hungry and with
tendrils of a headache throbbing in the back of her skull.

She’d
been avoiding weighty concepts, disturbed emotions, trying to be steady and
stable all day long. But she’d have to decide what to do soon. Tomorrow was
Monday. She couldn’t see herself going in to work at the Engineering
Department.

She
had time, a little voice inside her whispered as she walked back to her
apartment. She had nearly three weeks.

During
lunch, she studied the timeline again and saw a day circled in brilliant blue,
with a notation in Bossgond’s hand. “Summon Marian and Andrew back to
Lladrana.”

Invisible
ink, of course. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Everything fell into
place. Bossgond had seen her through his dimensional binoculars on Earth when
she’d been in Lladrana. Naturally he’d correctly deduced what had happened, but
had said nothing to her in case he might change what was or what might be.

Still,
it made her shudder.

That
afternoon, she went over her finances. They were in good shape and if she
received the last of her college fund tomorrow she’d have plenty to live on
before she was Summoned to Lladrana.

If
she went. The
day had been delightful. She’d steeped herself in the rich and sustaining
essence of Earth, of her life as it had been.

The
choice before her was just too gigantic for her to act hastily. She decided to
quit her work-study job. Spring semester had just ended, and though she’d
planned on registering for summer classes if she received her college fund, she
could delay a while.

So
she tidied her apartment and late in the evening began a tentative list of what
she’d like to take to Lladrana, if she decided to return. When it was finished,
she figured it would take a moving van to transport. Probably the most she
could carry was a backpack, and Andrew, too.

Her
sleep that night was peaceful and she awoke refreshed. Her first order of
business was quitting her work-study job. She’d finished a big project and
summer school would be light. Though the Dean was naturally grumpy about
replacing her, he didn’t seem too concerned.

Again
she walked around the campus, strolled along downtown Boulder, enjoyed herself
and considered her two lives. Everything seemed so clear in Lladrana.

She
could have magic here. But could she integrate it into the life she’d planned?
Not easily. Marian suspected that her trials in the Dark’s maw was only the
overture for a long opera. If she was to play her proper role in Lladrana,
she’d be integrally involved in defeating the Dark. She already felt like she
might have a bull’s-eye painted on her.

And
there was Jaquar. She didn’t want to much think about him, either, but great
quests would entail many other “greats”—sacrifices, betrayals, triumphs. She’d
never had a man like him before and didn’t think there was one walking the
streets of Boulder who could compare.

She
sat at her kitchen table and made a list—pros and cons for returning to
Lladrana or staying on Earth.

Lladrana
won.

With
trembling fingers, she opened the
Lorebook of Knot-Weapons
. The volume
was well organized, with simple knots first. It showed a picture of the knot,
the description of its use including effects and damage, then gave visual
instructions on how to tie the knot step by step. When Marian touched those
pictures, a faint haze appeared as if a holographic picture should be projected.
Not enough Power on Earth—though if Marian sent her own Power through her
fingertips, she could see the “movie”—hands slowly tying the knots.

Dread
tightening her muscles, Marian continued to turn the pages. Her knot was the
third from the end, “City Destroyer.” Her mouth dried and she edged away from
the book, setting her fisted hands on her lap. There was a long “Warning”
section, describing how to encase the user of the weapon in a Powerful shield
before its use. The shield chant looked complex and demanded perfect pitch.
Which Marian didn’t have.

Mouth
dry, Marian scraped her chair back and went to the kitchen for a glass of
filtered water, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she’d untied
the knot.

It
would have destroyed the maw—at the cost of her life.

The
whole matter smacked of fate.

She’d
have to use the book in the future, hopefully when she was very, very Powerful
and had found someone to shield her. With friends, maybe—though she didn’t
think Alexa had perfect pitch, either.

Of
course Andrew was her priority. She was sure she could convince him to return
with her, but she’d have to ensure he believed her first. Could she connect
with him in the Lladranan way? Let him
feel
her experiences?

She
was happy and excited, until she called and spoke with Andrew’s doctor.

“I’m
glad you phoned,” Dr. Chan said. “Since Andrew authorized me to tell you
everything, I’ll be blunt. His health is poor. He’s underweight and vulnerable
to infection. He has fallen several times the past few months and has been
lucky not to break a bone. The intervals of time between attacks are shortening
and the flare-ups are more intense and longer.”

Marian
clutched the phone. She hadn’t known. It didn’t sound good. If Andrew believed
his mind was failing…She shuddered.

34

M
arian forced
herself to wait before going to California. Time had to elapse so she wouldn’t
see herself in Bossgond’s binoculars. She kept herself busy changing her life.

She
readied herself, poring over the Ritual chant Bossgond had written, retrieved
the hard-copy notes of the Ritual she’d written for herself and refined it to
dovetail with the Lladranans’, and prepared the pentagram.

And
she practiced. By the time the Marshalls and Sorcerers and others would Summon
her and Andrew, she would be letter-perfect in her own Ritual.

Echoes
of Lladrana reverberated in her days. One morning she found herself tense and
nervous, then felt giddy with relief. When she looked at the timeline, she saw
she’d Tested for Scholar that morning on Lladrana. So she bought a huge
calendar and filled in the blocks with what she recalled of each day there, so
she could “listen” for the echoes, feel the resonance of the emotions affecting
her in Lladrana.

Finally,
she took a flight to Andrew’s ranch home in San Mateo, California.

As
she went into his office, she noted the additional equipment for his
deteriorating health. Canes and walkers stood in every room, his computer had a
voice-recognition system for when his fingers lost mobility and an ergonomic
keyboard for when his voice slurred. The sight of these made her eyes sting. No
one should have to live this way, fall before an encroaching disease.

Marian
called the retreat. When a counselor answered, Marian left a message that
she
had an emergency and needed Andrew, then gave his phone number as a contact.

He
called a couple of hours later, sounding worried. “What’s up, sis?”

“I
need you, Andrew.”

He
swore. “I knew there was something going on that you weren’t telling me about.”

“I’m
not the only one who’s been hiding things,” she said. “I spoke with Dr. Chan.”

There
was silence.

“I
love you, Andrew, and I need to talk to you—about some life changes
I
am
considering.”

“You!”

“Yes.
I’ve quit my work-study job and dropped out of school. I’ve been out of the country
and have another…vocational offer, but whether I pursue that or just transfer
to a California university is up to you. I want to get your opinion.”

“Huh,”
Andrew said. “This can’t wait until after my retreat?”

“I’m
afraid not. The timing is difficult.” She took a breath.

“And
I spoke to people where I was about you and received a herbal medicine that
might help.”

“You’re
kidding, right?”

“No.”

Again
there was a long silence. It scraped Marian’s nerves until she burst out,
“Andrew, so much has happened. Such incredible events. I can’t…I can’t discuss
this on the phone.” To her horror tears clogged her throat.

“Shh,
sis. I’ll come home. You’re at—my house, right?”

“Yes.”
She sniffled.

“You
want to make the arrangements for a plane and car, or do you want me to?”

“I’ve
got all the details ready.”

“Of
course, give ’em to me. I have a pencil and paper.”

So
she did.

“Looks
good,” Andrew said, then paused. “Thanks, Marian.”

“What
do you mean?”

“Thanks
for saying you need me, for calling me with your news and making me
feel…strong.”

“You
are
strong, Andrew.”

He
snorted. “Not many people treat me like that, though. I love you—see you
later.”

“I
love you, too.”

As
soon as she hung up, a tide of exhaustion overwhelmed her and she slipped into
the guest bed and slept. And dreamed of Jaquar playing with her in a storm…

Marian
woke to a commotion at the front door as Andrew paid off his driver and
disengaged the alarm system. She dressed in her purple robe and hurried into
the living room.

Andrew
closed the door behind him and locked it, then took the walker standing by the
door and leaned heavily on it as he stared at Marian. “My God, you look
different.”

She
ran to him, trying not to show her shock at his thinness and infirmity. “I’m so
glad to see you!” She hugged him gingerly, then returned to his comment.
“Different how?”

Slowly
he shook his head. “There’s the hair, of course. That silver streak is very
striking. Natural?”

“Yes.”

“Too
bad. Guess you really did have weird stuff going on.”

Marian
raised her eyebrows. “You thought I lied about it?”

“Fibbed.”
He smiled slightly. “Thought you were worried about me and spinning a tale to
come live with me or something.” He shook his head again. “You look…trimmer. In
shape.” He flushed.