The Brazen Gambit (19 page)

Of course, if all templars were quitters...

But she wasn't fool enough to think that. She sensed that Pavek's shortcomings were uniquely his own.

"You lack patience, persistence, and, most of all, you lack faith of any kind in me, in my grove, in yourself. I'm the
one who's been cheated and deceived, Pavek. You said you wanted to learn; you lied. Find your own way, Just-Plain
Pavek, if you dare."

She gathered up her hat and veil, though the sun was close to setting and its light wouldn't bother her eyes
when she left the grove, left him here overnight. He was quite safe, unless he tried something destructive. And if he
was foolish enough to do that, he deserved to spend eternity among the roots.

Pavek stiffened as she floated up from the ground. Fear was the dominant emotion on his face, and his thoughts
were so focused on Ruari's exhortation: Feed his bones to the trees, Grandmother, that the half-elf's spiteful words
echoed literally through the trees.

He shouted "Wait!" and without waiting to see if she heard or complied, squeezed his eyes shut.

Tilting her head to one side, listening to the guardian's surge as it honored an evocation, she sank back to the
grass. Pavek hadn't suddenly acquired faith, but he was desperate, too desperate to think and, according to Akashia,
this would-be druid was at his best when he wasn't thinking.

There was no grunting or straining this time, merely a prolonged exhalation that emptied his mind as well as his
lungs. She leaned forward, holding her breath as the guardian stirred. There was an image visible on the surface of
Pavek's mind: King Hamanu, the Lion of Urik, astride a mound of vanquished warriors with the severed head of one of
them gripped in his upstretched hand.

Her blood froze: if Pavek summoned the sorcerer-king through Quraite's guardian spirit, they were doomed. She
willed herself to intercede, but Pavek held the guardian, and it resisted her.

She knew a moment of fear darker and deeper than any other in her life. She called on her own faith to sustain
her, and then there was water.

Everywhere.

An otherworldly image of the Lion-King hovered above her spring, with water seeping from the wounds of the
warriors beneath its feet. More water spouted from the mouth of the head he held in his hand. Water looped and
spiraled and formed a swirling cloud around Pavek himself.

"A fountain!" she laughed, in genuine relief as water splashed her face. "You remembered a fountain! Water and
stone together! Well done!"

Pavek's fountain collapsed the instant her words penetrated his consciousness. He was drenched and dazed. For
several moments he did not move at all. Her elation faded: a druid's first invocation was the most dangerous, because
the guardian must be released at its end. The more a neophyte druid invoked, the more dangerous the release. Pavek
had invoked far more than the few splattering drops she'd expected, and there was a very real chance he'd invoked
more than he could safely release. She held her breath, waiting for the ground to open and guardian to claim him.

Finally he blinked and raised his still-dripping hands.

"Water. My water." He extended his arms toward her. "My water."

She pressed her fingertips against his. It was an awesome personal accomplishment for a faithless man, and a
chilling precedent.

"Yes," she agreed solemnly. No need to share her doubts and concerns. "It's a beginning, Pavek. The beginning
of another race. Will you finish it? Can you win it?"

The innocent joy drained from his face.

"You can, Just-Plain Pavek," she assured him, and herself, as she invoked Quraite's guardian and rose above the
grass. "Tomorrow. Here. Now, return home. Supper will be waiting for you."

The moons had set and his clothes were dry by the time Pavek returned to Quraite. He'd hoped Yohan was the
silhouette squatting by the lone fire, but it was Ruari instead. The half-elf looked up as he approached. Ruari said
nothing, and Pavek didn't either, once he saw his medallion hanging from the half-wit scum's neck.

A fist-sized oil lamp hanging from a crossbeam cast shadowy light through the single room. Telhami sat on a
wicker bench, her eyes closed. She'd slumped, precariously pressed against the bark-covered center pole. Her head
had fallen forward at an odd angle. For one horrifying moment, Akashia thought her friend and mentor had died.

"Grandmother?" Akashia couldn't make herself cross the threshold. "Grandmother..."

Telhami awakened with a shudder. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the doorway.

"Kashi? Kashi, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? Is something wrong?"

"You summoned me," Akashia whispered. "You were dreaming, Grandmother. You summoned me from your own
dreams." Her voice grew louder, steadier as the situation became clearer.

Telhami shook her head, but her face grew thoughtful.

Akashia became convinced she saw things correctly: "You're worried about Pavek and Laq, aren't you,
Grandmother? Confide in me, Grandmother. Tell me what troubles you. I brought him and his problems to Quraite. Let
me help you deal with them."

"No." Telhami continued to shake her head. "It's nothing that serious, Kashi. Certainly nothing for you to worry
about. Pavek strives hard, but learns slowly. It's frustrating for both of us, no worse than that. And Laq is a problem
that will solve itself."

"How?"

"I don't know-yet."

Bracing herself against the bench and the center pole, Telhami pushed herself upright. She took an unsteady
step, releasing the bench but keeping her other hand's fingertips curled firmly on the rough bark for balance.

"But I will, Kashi. I will. It's a matter of time and memory. A little more of each, and I'll have the answer."

"Not if you wear yourself out first." She accepted the fundamental truth of Telhami's assertion. Where Quraite's
guardian and Quraite's history were concerned, she hadn't learned much-she wasn't ready to learn. But Pavek was
another matter. "If the templar has told the truth about Laq, then Laq is the more serious problem. The templar himself
is insignificant Surely he didn't learn anything in the Don's archive that is more important than what the Lion's minions
are doing with our zarneeka. Let me teach Pavek in my grove for a few days, at least until you've found what you're
searching for. I've led the children through their catechism. I enjoy it, and you'd be free to do what only you can do."

Telhami removed her hand from the pole. She stood straighter, and her eyes, when she turned around, were clear
and bright. "Pavek is not a child, Kashi. Pavek is a man, a young man with a mind and strong thoughts of his own."

"Grandmother, I'm not blind. I know exactly what Pavek is. I kenned him when he first told us his tale. His
thoughts were strong, but there weren't very many of them. His spirit isn't dark, it's empty. Scarred and empty. I could
almost pity him, Grandmother, but no more than that."

"Almost?"

She lowered her eyes. In Urik, she'd barely pierced the surface of Pavek's mind when she kenned him for his basic
character. Still, what she had encountered had both surprised and saddened her.

"You taught me that children are all innocent and full of potential, and that men and women are uniquely good or
evil according to the sum of their deeds. But Pavek's not like that. He's not anything. His memory is filled with terrible
images, Grandmother. Evil images. But he's empty. He risked his life to tell us about Laq; he risked it again to save
Ruari's. And yet he's empty. It's as if Pavek has the shape of a man, but the spirit of-of something broken. Something
that never grew. The spirit of I don't know what."

"Of a templar," Telhami said gently.

Images of habit and prejudice swarmed her mind. Templars were brutal and malicious predators, savoring the
agony they brought to less fortunate, less privileged folk. Ruari's father had been a templar-a rapist and murderer
whose victims, Ghazala and Ruari, had survived. When she'd kenned Pavek, she'd seen a man who was more preyed
upon than predator, more numb than brutal, and scarcely more fortunate or privileged than a beast of burden. "Not a
templar."

Telhami's eyebrow arched. "Exactly a templar. Did you think they were all like Ruari's father?" She made a fire in a
tiny hearth and filled a small pot with water.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I did. I suppose I still do. Pavek was different, even that first time, when he wore a yellow
robe. Did I tell you he fought with another templar over a human infant's life? I keep thinking he should be a good man,
but he's not. He's just plain broken."

"I suspect all templars are broken. One way or another. They couldn't survive if they weren't. Some survive better
than others, of course. I doubt Ruari's father was the worst to wear the yellow. But broken is as true a description as
any. The pieces grind together when he invokes the guardian. Are you sure you want to take a broken man to your
grovel

"He can't harm me," she said, with less confidence than she'd intended. "If he forgets or tries, he'll be very
sorry."

"And what about you? How sorry will you be, Kashi? How disappointed or betrayed?"

"Betrayed? Betrayed by what? I said I know he's not a good man. He's not even an attractive man. I know I
brought him here, Grandmother, but I don't particularly like him, and I certainly haven't lost my head or my heart to

"You're certain?"

"Of course I'm certain. Wind and fire, Grandmother, you're as bad as Ruari. Do you think I'd be blinded by the
first stray man that stumbled across my path-and a templar at that?"

Telhami threw tea into the pot. "No," she conceded, swirling the leaves, studying their patterns on the water.

Akashia hadn't been blinded by Pavek, but she was blind to her own beauty and to beauty's effect on the men
around her. Not that Pavek seemed to be affected by beauty... or anything else. Beyond his determination to master
spellcraft, Pavek seemed to have no other interests. His very dogged-ness blocked his progress; Quraite's guardian
responded to livelier spirits'. Perhaps Akashia's notion was not so bad, after all. Kashi was good with beginners...

Then the image of a copper-haired youth stormed through her mind, all flashing eyes and scowls.

"There'd be trouble with Ruari," she admitted aloud.

"If there was going to be trouble with Ruari, it would have happened by now. He hasn't said anything since
Pavek invoked the guardian. We all felt it. Ru wasn't happy, but he couldn't very well argue after that."

Fragrant steam rose from the pot, restoring her more thoroughly, more gently than her contact with the living
pole of her hut. She was tired. Pavek's determination combined with his lack of progress made him an exhausting pupil.
Moreover, Pavek slept soundly each night while she pondered the problems he'd brought out of Urik. Ruari might not
argue with Quraite's guardian, but she did, every night.

The guardian didn't care about Urik or the aches and pains of common folk. When the guardian caught the drift
of Laq, it was ready to destroy all the zarneeka bushes in Quraite, and with them the sole source of Ral's Breath.
Telhami believed there had to be a solution that did not punish the commoners. But she'd need the guardian's help to
find it, and thus far that help had not been forthcoming.

She looked up from her tea and studied Akashia as she stood beside the center pole, apprehension and
eagerness written on her face... and anger. Kashi said she'd been summoned; Telhami had no reason to doubt and-as
the tea warmed her from the inside out-every reason to believe that her own deeper wisdom, working through her own
dreams, had done the summoning.

"Take Pavek to your grove, Kashi. If that fails, put him to work in the fields."

A third of the night remained before the sun's red glow colored the eastern horizon and Pavek began his daily
trek to Telhami's grove. Akashia had ample time to fetch her cloak from her hut, and with it secured around her
shoulders, she settled on a hard bench in easy sight of the bachelor's hut.

By dawn, when the woven-reed door opened and Pavek stretched himself into the open air, she was chilled to
the bone, despite her cloak, and consumed by doubts. Her voice failed when she first called his name, and it quavered
the second time, too. He stopped short at the corner of the hut and stayed where he was, waiting for her rather than
coming over.

"Telhami's resting today. I'm taking you to my grove instead."

All her doubts and shivers hadn't prepared her for the slack-jawed frown that hung, suddenly from Pavek's face.

"You don't need to look so happy."

"Is this your choice? If Telhami's tired-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I've held the door for other beginners; I can hold it for you."

They left the village together, Akashia's progress through Quraite's mysteries didn't yet permit her to ride the
guardian's power from one part of the oasis to another, as Telhami did. Curiosity overcame her reservations-she'd had
few opportunities to talk with someone who lived inside the massive yellow walls of Urik, and none at all with anyone
who'd lived a templar's life. She peppered him with questions that he answered with grunts and shrugs. In equal parts
frustration and compassion, she let the one-sided conversation die. Pavek, who could have easily kept pace with her,
fell a good fifteen steps behind and remained there until the rippling green meadow of her grove spread before them.

Watching from the corner of her eye, she waited for his reaction. Quraite's children most often bounded into the
air, squealing with delight, or plunged face-first into the sweet-smelling wildflowers she nurtured. Pavek got a few
paces into the waist-high grass and stopped cold.

"Where's the path? I don't know where I'm walking. I can't see my feet. I might step in the wrong place."

Not a child, Akashia thought ruefully, and not a man, either, but broken. "There is no wrong place, Pavek," she
called, then added with a mischievous laugh: "Unless you make it wrong."

He chewed uncomfortably on that, and she came close to shame for teasing him. But this was her grove-her
special place in all Athas-and being here filled her with a joy that banished everything else.

"Stop worrying! Open your eyes, your heart, and relax___

Start moving!"

Pavek stayed where he was.

"Race me to the center!"

"Is that a command?" he demanded, fists resting on his hips. "A part of today's lesson?"

Broken. Just-Plain Pavek was definitely broken. The essence of druidry was wild and reckless, on the verge of
danger, like the land itself. He'd never master it if he thought in terms of commands and obedience.

"Yes! The only lesson, if you can't catch me."

She was light-footed and began with a ten-pace lead, but she could hear the grass parting and snapping beneath
his sandals as she entered the stand of trees she'd inherited from the grove's earlier druids. Elves were one thing; she
knew she couldn't outrun an elf, or Ruari, for that matter. But a heavy-footed human male? It was embarrassing, and
she leaned into the longest stride she could manage until she was a step short of her grove's bottomless pool. Then,
taking a deep breath, she dived into the water, a mere-but significant-half-step ahead of him.

She expected Pavek to be in the water behind her, but he was bent over at the edge of the water, pale and
panting.

"Water's deep. Can't swim."

Akashia pulled herself out of the pool. She sat on a rock, wringing water from her hair, berating herself for
taunting Pavek. It was discourteous, and dangerous-even when she could call upon the guardian's power. And it
would have been avoidable, if he'd been willing to answer any of her questions about life in Urik.

"No lesson?" he asked.

She began a damp braid before giving Pavek a narrow-eyed look. Sweat flowed down the ugly scar on his cheek,
and his ribs still heaved. He hadn't even slaked his thirst. For all of her unfairness, there wasn't a trace of anger or
outrage in his expression, only a hint of disappointment in the slope of his shoulders.

"Should I leave? I can find my way back to the village."

"Pavek! Don't leave. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" His head tilted toward a rising shoulder. "Why be sorry? You made the game. You made the rules. You
won. Druid lore is safe for another day. Don't worry-I'll be careful; I'll stay out of sight. Telhami won't know, unless you
tell her." He started away from the pool.

The half-finished braid slipped through her fingers as she stood. She caught up with him under the trees.

"First lesson: There are no rules in druidry. It's nature-all flow and change. Don't be afraid to let go. And don't
leave; I am sorry." She wanted to pat his arm. Quraiters touched each other when they were happy, sad, or anxious.
But she hesitated before touching a templar.

Pavek shied away. "I don't understand." He sidestepped toward the village. "Magic is magic. I've read the
scrolls; the spells are the same. There must be rules."

"Come to the pool, I'll show you."

This time she didn't hesitate. She wrapped her hands firmly around his wrist and dragged him to the pool like a
stupid-stubborn erdlu.

"There are good ways and bad ways," she explained, once she had him moving on his own. "Ways that usually
work, and ways that usually don't. You practice what's reliable, but when push comes to shove, you do what you have
to do."

He stopped short, and they nearly collided. "Druidry's like fighting?"

She frowned. "I hope not." The thought that combat might be as free and formless as druidry was truly
frightening. Before they started taking zarneeka to Urik, Yohan had taught her a few tricks of open hand fighting-in
case they ran into trouble. She'd practiced the moves exactly the way Yohan taught them and had been confident that
she was fully prepared for the unexpected. It hadn't occurred to her, until now, that a true opponent might be
unpredictable.