Caught in Crystal: A Lyra Novel (30 page)

Bryn was silent for a moment; then she said, “I’m afraid the Magicseekers burned your inn. I’m sorry; I know how much that place meant to you.”

“It’s all right.” Kayl was surprised to find that her only reaction to the news was a distant sorrow; she had more than half expected the news. “I never really believed I’d be able to go back. What about Jirod?”

“He’s… recovering.”

Kayl felt as if someone had dealt her a blow in the stomach. “He is? Present tense?”

“We’ve had news since we left. The Magicseekers beat him senseless the first time they came through, after they found out you’d disappeared. When they came back, Zia hid him and told them he’d died. Levoil didn’t think Zia was capable of lying to him, so he didn’t even look for Jirod. He had his men burn the inn, and then they left.”

“I see.” Kayl was silent for a moment, then angrily struck her fist against her thigh. “I told Jirod he should come with us! Why wouldn’t he listen?”

“If you’re feeling guilty, just say so,” Bryn advised calmly.

Kayl started to snap at Bryn, then caught herself. “You’re right,” she said finally. “I do feel guilty.”

“How much of what happened with the Silver Sister and the Magicseekers and Levoil could you actually have done anything about?”

“I—” Kayl stopped and, reluctantly, smiled. “None of it, I suppose, not really. I still feel as if I should have tried, though.”

Bryn muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “Humans!” then said, “It’s too late now. Still, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you explained what it was all about.” She gave Kayl a sidelong look.

“I’ll tell you what I can,” Kayl said, “but some of it is still Sisterhood business.”

Bryn nodded, and Kayl launched into an edited account of her travels and the reasons behind them. She did not mention the decline of the Sisterhood’s magical abilities and she was deliberately vague about the Twisted Tower and the exact purpose of the current expedition.

Bryn listened closely, her nose twitching occasionally as it did when she was concentrating hard on something. “So you got caught in the middle of a fight between the Sisterhood and the Circle of Silence over something that happened fifteen years ago,” Bryn said thoughtfully when Kayl finished.

“More or less,” Kayl said. “There’s no way Corrana and the Magicseekers could have shown up so close together by coincidence, and the Magicseekers didn’t seem to be following her. Although if Utrilo Levoil was one of them…” Kayl frowned.

“Then he probably had suspicions about you even before Corrana arrived,” Bryn said. “And whatever is going on is important enough to him to keep him tied to a small village, pretending to be a pompous idiot of a secretary, for nearly a month.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right,” Kayl said slowly. “I’d assumed that they followed Corrana, but if Levoil was one of them, that’s impossible.”

Bryn gave Kayl a sober look. “They won’t have given up, you know.”

“I know. I just have to hope that they won’t cross the borders of the Alliance, or at least that they’ll be severely limited inside it.” Kayl knew it was a forlorn hope; they were nearing the eastern boundary of the Estarren Alliance, and the authority of the Senate was already running thin. The Windhome Mountains, four days’ journey away, were only nominally under the control of the Alliance. Kayl was sure that the Magicseekers would not think twice about defying the Senate’s order of exile there. “You haven’t seen any sign of them, or heard any rumors, have you?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not sure. We ran across some very odd merchants about a week ago—surly and standoffish, no wagons or packs of goods, and all of them with horses. We kept out of their way.”

“A week ago,” Kayl said, frowning. “Where was this?”

“A little south and west of here. Not quite a week’s travel; we lost some time because of a broken wheel on one of the carts.”

Less than a week away, and they had horses. Kayl’s frown deepened. At least they hadn’t actually crossed the expedition’s trail; if they were Magicseekers, they might not know how close they were to their prey. “I’ll have to tell the Elder Mothers about this. Would you be willing to talk to them?”

Bryn’s ears twitched forward. “If they’re willing to talk to me.”

“The Sisterhood doesn’t think Wyrds or Shee or Neira are automatically suspicious,” Kayl said, stung by the injustice of the assumption.

“That’s not what I meant. Your Sisterhood has a lot of information; I’d like to trade.”

“They’re not my Sisterhood,” Kayl muttered.

Bryn ignored the comment. “I want to know if they’ve heard anything of a Wyrd settlement in the north.”

“I think I can promise you they’ll tell you if they know anything about it,” Kayl said. “But what if they haven’t?”

“Even that’s information, of a sort. I’ll meet you outside the tavern in an hour; will that be enough time for you to arrange things with these Elder Mothers?”

“It should be. Thanks, Bryn.” Kayl rose and stamped her feet. Then, with a nod of farewell, she started back toward the tavern.

W
HEN KAYL ARRIVED, THE
tavern was in an uproar. Fifteen or twenty of the townspeople stood in angry clumps in front of the door, muttering among themselves and glaring toward the center of the room. Corrana’s voice rose in icy anger from that direction, ordering someone back. Kayl tried to peer over or between the heads that blocked her view. She caught a glimpse of Elder Mother Alessa’s shining hair, and the members of the Star Clusters, but she still could not tell what was going on. She pressed her lips together and began to shoulder her way forward.

“Demon-cursed Varnan,” she heard someone say beside her. Kayl went cold. If something had happened to Glyndon.… It wasn’t like Glyndon to be careless; how had these people guessed he was Varnan?

“Traveling with a whole harem, bold as anything,” someone else said loudly. Kayl pushed herself between the last of the villagers and stopped.

The women of the two Star Clusters stood in a defensive half-circle, facing the villagers. None of them had drawn weapons, and all of them looked unhappy. Elder Mother Alessa was standing to Kayl’s left, just behind Risper, talking to the Star Cluster in a voice too low for Kayl to hear. Elder Mother Miracote stood near the other end of the string of star-sisters, studying the townsfolk through narrowed eyes.

Behind the Star Clusters, the remainder of the Sisterhood’s expedition stood or sat in three clumps. The first consisted of Corrana and the two Mothers, talking in soothing tones to the indignant tavern-keeper. Kayl’s opinion of the man, which had not been high to begin with, dropped sharply; he should be out here trying to talk the townsfolk out of starting a fight. Two Elder Sisters stood at the nearer end of one of the tables, watching the villagers. Glyndon sat at the other end of the table, white and shaking. Barthelmy and Elder Mother Javieri stood beside him, concern written across both their faces, while Mark and Dara hovered protectively a little way away. Kayl needed only the briefest glance to be certain that Glyndon had had another of his visions. She wanted to go to him, but dealing with the villagers could not wait. She hoped fleetingly that Mark and Dara would have time enough to run if things got ugly.

“You, there,” she said to a burly man in her best drill-master’s voice. “What’s troubling these people?” She waved at the glowering townsfolk.

“What?” The man looked confused, then suspicious. “Who’s asking?”

“I am. Well?”

“That man’s a Varnan,” the man said accusingly. An angry murmur from the people behind him bolstered his courage, and he added, “And we’re going to get him!”

“Really?” Kayl said. She pitched her voice with care, trying to achieve a tone of mild curiosity that would still carry to the rear of the room. “And I’d heard this was such a friendly town. What are you going to do with him when you have him?”

“Put him in the stocks,” shouted someone.

“Tar and sawdust,” yelled another.

“Hang him!”

There were uneasy murmurs among the crowd at that; evidently hanging was more than most of the villagers were ready to stomach. Kayl felt a touch of relief; they hadn’t really gotten worked up yet. “Sounds like a lot of effort,” Kayl commented. “What’s he done? Turned the ale bad?”

A stocky, brown-haired woman laughed. “If he tried that with Penshar’s ale, no one would notice!” she called.

Kayl recognized her as the same woman who had earlier sidetracked the angry young man’s diatribe against Wyrds. “In that case, I’d hang the brewer, not the wizard,” Kayl said.

She saw a few smiles among the crowd; their initial fear was beginning to fade.

“He’s a Varnan,” someone shouted from the back, but the voice was not as angry as the earlier ones had been.

“The brewer?” Kayl said.

There was a scattering of chuckles. “That’s why the ale’s so bad!” the stocky woman said.

“Don’t you bad-talk my business, Thela!” the tavern-keeper shouted from across the room. “I serve good ale.”

“Good for what?” said a skinny youth.

Kayl shot a quick glance at in the direction of the Sisterhood. The defensive stance of the Star Clusters had relaxed somewhat, but they were still standing. She caught Miracote’s eye and made a small patting motion with her left hand. Miracote nodded fractionally; a moment later, two of the Sisters returned to their seats.

The mood of the crowd had shifted; they were baiting the tavern-keeper now. Kayl saw several of those in back slip quietly out the door. A tall, gray-haired man caught her eye; he was watching the crowd with a detached air. Something about him struck a familiar chord in Kayl’s mind. She turned slightly so that she could keep an eye on him. Then she deliberately stretched and yawned. “Well, if there’s not going to be any excitement, I’m going to bed,” she announced. “I’ve had a long day.”

“So have we all,” the gray-haired man said. His voice was deep and gentle, and somehow the tone of it reminded Kayl that she really was nearly as tired as she had been pretending to be.

The man’s voice had the same effect on the villagers. Several more of them drifted out the door, and Kayl could almost see the energy draining out of the rest. “What about that Varnan?” someone called halfheartedly.

“Leave him here with Penshar’s ale,” the stocky woman suggested. “That’s punishment enough for anything!”

The remnant of the village crowd laughed and began breaking up. Most of them left in ones and twos and small clumps. Kayl let out a small sigh of relief. She heard benches scrape on the floor as the rest of the Sisters resumed their seats. Kayl glanced over her shoulder and saw Mark and Dara, still standing behind Glyndon. Mark’s eyes were wide with excitement;

Dara looked relieved. Kayl turned back and saw the stocky woman coming toward her.

“Thanks for your help,” Kayl said as the woman reached her.

The woman shrugged. “I don’t like fights.” She hesitated, then nodded toward the Sisters and went on, “You’re with them, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Kayl admitted. “But I could hardly announce it.”

“I thought I’d seen you with some of them earlier.” The woman paused again. “It might be wiser for your friend to be gone before morning.”

“I’d already come to that conclusion,” Kayl said. “But thanks for your advice.”

The stocky woman nodded and left. Kayl looked around and discovered the tavern-keeper heading purposefully in her direction.

“What do you mean by chasing away all my business?” the man demanded with frightened belligerence.

“Would you rather have had those people work themselves up until they started breaking mugs and smashing benches?” Kayl snapped. “Have some sense!”

“I know these people!” the tavern-keeper said. “They wouldn’t have—”

“They’d have tried,” said a voice from behind Kayl. She turned and found that the gray-haired man had come over. “And you wouldn’t be so frightened if you weren’t sure of that, Penshar,” the man went on.

“Well, but what am I supposed to do now?” Penshar demanded, then jumped as Corrana’s calm, musical voice came over his shoulder.

“We shall, of course, pay extra to have privacy for the remainder of the night,” Corrana said.

The tavern-keeper brightened perceptibly. “How much?”

“Shall we discuss it?” Corrana said, and they moved away, talking in low voices.

The gray-haired man turned to Kayl and said, “You did a remarkable job of calming those people down, young woman.”

“I used to be an innkeeper,” Kayl replied cautiously. The man still seemed familiar somehow, but the reason continued to elude her.

“Used to be?” The man raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

“Pardon me; inquisitiveness is my besetting fault. But is there anything I can help you with now?”

Kayl started to decline politely, then paused. The gray-haired man showed no sign of wishing to leave the tavern, and until he was gone, or Kayl was sure of his motives, she and the Sisters would not be able to talk freely. Kayl glanced around. Corrana and the tavern-keeper had finished their discussion. Corrana had rejoined the Mothers, and the tavern-keeper was staring with avid curiosity at Glyndon and the Elder Mothers who surrounded him. Kayl smiled, seeing a way to dispose of two difficulties at once.

“If you could keep him out of the way for a little while…,” she said, nodding in Penshar’s direction.

The gray-haired man smiled. “Happy to oblige you.” He gave her a shallow bow and strolled in the tavern-keeper’s direction. After a brief conversation, the two men departed in the direction of the kitchen.

Kayl heaved a sigh of relief and at last headed for Glyndon. He appeared partially recovered; Dara had brought him a mug of something while Kayl was busy with the villagers and the tavern-keeper. Kayl hoped it wasn’t the ale. She took a seat opposite Glyndon and asked bluntly, “What happened?”

“Your Varnan wizard had one of his fits,” one of the nearby Sisters said sweetly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Glyndon raised his head. “I suppose this is your way of reminding me not to take the harem comment seriously,” he remarked. He paused for an instant, then added reassuringly, “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t have.”