Sorceress of Faith (56 page)

“That’s
okay. Any more comments about my appearance?”

He
narrowed his eyes. “You look more
yourself
. But more…You
glow
.
You aren’t pregnant or anything, are you? If you are and the guy dumped you,
I’ll kill him!” His expression grew fierce.

Marian
took a step back in surprise. “No. Not pregnant.”

“But
there was a guy, I can tell.”

Andrew
took a couple of clumping steps toward her, and she realized he was very tired.

She
wanted to rush to him and help, but instead indicated his recliner and took the
one on the other side of the table.

He
stumped to the recliner and lowered himself into it, still keeping his eyes on
her face. “Did the jerk dump you?”

Clearing
her throat, she shook her head.
She
had cut the bond between herself and
Jaquar. “No, I dumped him.”

“Wanna
talk about it?” Andrew relaxed back into the recliner and shut his eyes.

“Not
particularly.”

“All
right.”

“Do
you want me to—” But he was asleep.

For
a time she watched him sleep. So beloved, this brother of hers. He’d been the
only loving and stable person in her life. But she was deeply afraid for his
health.

He
was so much worse than she’d known. Or perhaps she was just looking at him with
new eyes. Her mouth firmed. There wasn’t much here that could help him, but
maybe on Lladrana…She’d try
anything
to cure him. Dipping in, or perhaps
even drinking the magical jerir. Paying the Marshalls any price to do a group
Healing. The same with the Circlets. And the Friends of the Singer. Perhaps the
Singer herself had Powers, could channel the Power of the Song to help Andrew.

Her
options and methods might have changed, but her priority remained the same.

Since
he was sleeping and she needed to do something, she went into the kitchen and
took out a frozen casserole. It could warm until he awoke.

She
picked up his duffel and unpacked it, set his medications on the table by his
elbow with a glass of water and put the dirty laundry in the washer. She was
transferring his clothes to the dryer when he called her name. She finished her
task and walked to the living room.

“So,
I didn’t dream you,” he said.

Leaning
against the arch that separated the living room from the kitchen, Marian smiled
at him. “No.”

He
rubbed his face, moved the recliner upright and drank some of the water.
Serious gaze fixed on her, he said, “Sit down. Tell me what changed you and
what you want to do about it. What you want
me
to do about it.” A corner
of his mouth lifted as if in pride that she’d asked for his help.

She
didn’t want to hurt him with the bond, would try to keep it light and easy at
first and watch Andrew for any discomfort.

Walking
over to him, she stretched and then curled her fingers, limbering them.

“What
are you doing?”

Warmth
crept up her cheeks. “I, uh—when I was away, I learned this technique
for…connecting with people on an…emotional level.”

He
just stared at her, then he laughed, and it was so good to hear and see him
this way that she drank in the sight and smiled herself.

After
his last chuckle, he said, “All those New Age classes of yours—and where did
you go, Tibet?”

“Not
exactly.”

He
stretched out his hands. “Okay, lay it on me.”

Instead
of clasping hands, she bent and hugged him. A Song rose between them. Since
Andrew stiffened, she sensed he heard it, too—the Song of the children of
Candace. Closing her eyes, she felt tears well behind her lids. She was so
glad
to hold him. Without thought or will, her experiences on Lladrana flickered
through their bond—fast and sketchy, but undeniably real.

His
arms tightened around her. Then he shivered and withdrew. His face had paled,
but his eyes blazed with wonder and excitement. “I can’t believe it.” Then he
lifted a hand. “No, I
do
believe it, but it’s fantastic all the same.
Magic works and you have an affinity for fire.”

He
glanced over to the fireplace. “Care to light it?”

She
sent him a withering glance. “It’s gas.”

“So?”

“So
you have to turn the gas
on
. That’s moving a lever, not lighting logs.”

“Huh.
Could you use some air to press down the switch?”

“Maybe
I should draw down lightning on your thick skull.”

He
snorted. “Don’t think you could do it.” A wistful expression crossed his face.
“I thought I got something about a hole in the skull and that special
liquid—jerir?”

Marian
licked her lips. “Yes.”

“Didja
bring the stuff with you and can I see it?”

“Yes.”
Marian went to the guest bedroom and returned with the bottle of jerir, which
she handed to Andrew.

He
took the solid proof of her trip to Lladrana in his hands, tilted the container
back and forth, studied it under the light. The sparkles were harder to see
under a lightbulb, but Marian spotted a couple.

“Real
magic.” He set the bottle on the table with his medicines. “You want to return,
don’t you?”

She
met his eyes, let her fear show in her own. “I’m torn. It’s a dangerous
situation and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get any better soon.” Taking a
deep breath, she let it out slowly. “I’d have great Power and with great Power
comes great responsibility.”

“I’m
glad that you feel that way.”

A
smile played on her lips, then faded. “I have to feel that way—otherwise I might
succumb to pure greed or hubris or something.”

But
Andrew was shaking his head. “I don’t think so. You’ve seen too much of what
can happen with great riches and status in Denver society.”

“Many
of those people are caring, service-oriented individuals.”

“But
not Candace. What of Candace? You came back for me, and I thank you for that
and am considering my new options. But I can’t see you telling Candace about
Lladrana, or convincing her to go there. Not her kind of place at all. You’ve
always wanted a good relationship with Mother.”

Marian
braced herself. “I saw Candace Friday night. She’s…dying.” She swallowed hard.
“I think she knows it. Cancer, probably. She won’t do anything about it.
Doesn’t accept the prognosis. I got this through our bond—before she cut it.”

Andrew
swore, looked away. A moment later, he said, “It’s hard, isn’t it, knowing
there’s not a thing we can say that will make her take care of herself? I
tried, now and then.” His eyes turned sad. “I would have said that I didn’t
care. I do, of course. She is our mother.”

“I
don’t think she has long—less than a year, perhaps.”

Closing
his eyes, Andrew sighed. “This is difficult for you.” He shifted in his seat.
“Maybe it’s best that we do leave now. She wouldn’t want us to be there at the
end.”

“You’re
sure of that? We couldn’t give her comfort?”

“When
did we ever give her comfort?”

“What
if she changes her mind, her ways, wants us at the end?”

He
opened his eyes, stared back at Marian. “Do you really believe you should forgo
life on Lladrana because of a remote possibility that our mother will change
her ways on her deathbed? If so, then I think you really don’t want to return
to Lladrana and the challenges there, but just prefer your steady, tidy life
here.”

Shock
rippled through her at his harsh words. She staggered back to sit in the
opposite recliner and frown at him.

His
smile was humorless. “You wanted me here,
needed
me here to help you
think about this radical change in lifestyle. Well, that’s what I’m doing.”

Marian
rubbed her temples. “Not pulling any punches, are you.”

“Since
you’ll be walking into circumstances that might get you killed, you’d better
really be committed to that course.”

She
nodded, looked away, put his words in the back of her mind to simmer. She’d
consider them later. Taking an unsteady breath, she put a hand on her churning
stomach. “You’re talking like you’ll come with me.”

Nodding,
Andrew said, “I’ll give it good consideration. I know there’s some time
constraints. When would we leave?”

Marian
dipped her hand in her pocket and withdrew the paper Bossgond had given her.
Andrew examined it, turning it over and looking at both sides. He rubbed his
thumb over it, scratched with his nail, even lifted it up and sniffed. Again he
half smiled.

“Doesn’t
smell like Earth, but it does smell a little like you.”

She
hadn’t quite accepted that she had a scent others noticed. “Huh.”

Andrew
chuckled, then glanced at the paper and read the English words at the bottom of
the timeline. “I guess this big blue circle is when the return Summoning will
be done?”

“Yes.”

He
nodded. “All right, about ten days.” Carefully setting the paper aside on the
table, he said, “That’s enough heavy talk for now. Let’s eat, watch some tube
and get to sleep.”

That
evening, Marian lay in bed and waited—tonight had been the night in Lladrana
when she and Jaquar had danced, when the first level of their connection had
developed. She let the soft reflection of what was now occurring on Lladrana
filter through her. Afterward, she felt a small but definite bond between her
and Jaquar again—Jaquar-of-the-past and herself. She sat straight up in bed.
Did Past-Jaquar now feel the bond with Earth-Marian as well as Lladrana-Marian?
She thought he must, so the “Marian effect” upon
him
would be more than
his effect on Lladrana-Marian or Earth-Marian. Not quite a double whammy, but
still, it was something to consider when she thought of him—which was often.

Being
on Earth gave her time and distance to reflect on her affair with Jaquar. She
missed him, missed the companionship above all, and, of course, the sex. And
she welcomed the renewed connection; this seemed to reverberate from the
future, too, for just prior to the Snap, she’d linked with him again. A link
through time. The thought made her shiver.

What
would happen to that bond if Andrew decided against Lladrana?

She
woke late, and by the time she dressed, Andrew was moving around the kitchen
with only one cane and looking rested.

“Want
me to make omelettes?” she asked.

He
grinned and settled into a chair at the table. “Sure.”

She
got the ingredients together and began preparing.

A
few minutes passed in silence. “I’ve decided,” he said quietly.

Marian
tensed as she folded the egg mixture over in the frying pan, then glanced at
him.

“Yes?”
Her voice was equally soft.

“I
want to go with you.”

She
slid his omelette onto a plate and placed it before him, then went to work on
hers, she was focused more on Andrew. “Why?”

He
shrugged. “I think it’s evident that my time and future here is limited.” Then
he gave a lopsided smile that tore her heart. “I’ll take my chances on
Lladrana.”

She
could barely breathe. “Really?” It came out in a high-pitched squeak that would
have done Tuck proud.

Andrew
picked up his fork and took a tiny bite. “I don’t have much appetite.” He
continued to eat mechanically.

But
when she finished making her own omelette and sat across from him, his gaze was
as intense as a laser.

“Some
people are born to do certain things.
You are born to be the Exotique
Circlet Sorceress of Lladrana
.” His face hardened. “I don’t
ever
want you walking away from that destiny. Promise me.”

It
wasn’t often he demanded things of her.

She
put down her fork, couldn’t eat.

“Promise
me, now. Nothing will stop you from returning.”

She
choked. He meant his sickness, his death.

“I—”

“I
want this for you, Marian. All your life you’ve been looking for something,
searching for that one skill that was completely natural for the genius inside
you. You had it and knew it subconsciously.” He waved a hand. “Most sensitive
people could tell that. Now you’ve found it. I
will not
let you squander
your talent. Promise me
now
.”

“I
promise.” The words were barely a breath, but he heard them and nodded.

“Good.”
He closed his eyes again, a smile hovered on his mouth. “Always searching, all
those classes…” He sighed.

Marian
stared down at her omelette, too excited to eat. What had she done? She’d
promised to go back to Lladrana and battle the Dark.

She
might have been born to this work, but unlike her first week on Lladrana, the
months to come wouldn’t be fun and games and learning. Her future—their future,
hopefully—could be brutal and short.