Exile's Song (60 page)

Just as Liriel reached the bottom of the long staircase, Mikhail appeared at the top of it. His light-colored hair was tousled, and he blinked down at them, then began to come down the stairs. “I heard voices. What’s the matter?”

Margaret felt herself relax at the sight of her cousin Mikhail. Once again she felt very glad to see him, and less uncertain of herself. It was almost as if his presence gave her a confidence she lacked otherwise, and while she knew this was unlikely, she still enjoyed the feeling. And, she admitted to herself, she was more than just glad to have Mikhail present.

At the same time, her pleasure in the presence of Mikhail made her uneasy. The years of Ashara’s mental dominance had taken a toll she was only beginning to understand. It was almost a reflex to keep herself apart from other people, and she found she had to struggle to overcome it.

Jeff explained what had happened while Liriel came and took Donal’s limp body from Lew. They moved into the great living room, and put the child on the couch closest to the fireplace. Liriel wrapped the boy in a throw that hung on the back of the couch, and settled him into a comfortable position. Lew stirred the fading embers of the fire into life, Jeff added wood to it, and Mikhail lit the lampions. They were efficient and calm, as if this was an ordinary occurrence, not something terrible or frightening.

She knew that their outward appearance hid deep concern. She had sent Donal into the overworld with a few ill-chosen words, never suspecting she could do such a thing, and it was not a trivial matter. How would they get him back? Margaret wondered what she could do. She was still half tempted to withdraw, since she lacked the training to be of any help.

“No, Marja. You sent Donal out of his body, and you must be the one to call him back,” her father said.
Poor child. If I had sent her here instead of letting her go off to University, all of this might have been avoided. Or if I had brought her home . . . ah, well. It is too late for that now. We just have to do the best we can.

“I have to call him back? How?”

“We have to get to the overworld, find Donal, and bring him home,” Liriel answered, as if she were suggesting a picnic by the lake. “I understand your reluctance, Marguerida. But the Tower of Mirrors is gone, and there is now nothing in the overworld to fear. It is a good thing you have a personal relationship with the boy—that will make it simpler.”

“Easy for you to say, Liriel.”

“Uncle Lew, can you still work as a technician?”

“I am pretty rusty, but I think I can manage.” His scarred face softened. “I have not forgotten my years at Arilinn—it was a happy time for me.”

“Good. I will monitor, then, and you and Jeff can make sure Marguerida does not blunder.”

“Don’t leave me out, sister,” Mikhail said quietly. “I have not had your extensive training, but I did my time at Arilinn, and I am able.”

“I know you are, Mik, but . . .”

“I know it isn’t quite proper for me, outside a Tower, but I think Marguerida and I are good enough friends that I can be useful.”
She can depend on me, and she already does, though I don’t know if she knows it yet. It’s a damn shame I am the wrong son, but nothing can be done about that. We are friends, and whatever happens, we will always have that much. I just wish it could be more.

Friends? Margaret felt a kind of relief at his words and his thoughts. Some of her fear began to dissipate. But the chill within her, the fear of intimacy, still plagued her. It was one thing for them to exchange a few verbal ripostes, to tease one another, and to make pungent comments about other people. That was something they could have done without telepathy, given a little privacy. It was quite another to enter into the sort of closeness she had experienced with Istvana Ridenow during her first foray into the overworld. Although she knew that the Keeper had been very discreet, Margaret was aware that there was almost nothing about her that Istvana did not know, after the battle with Ashara.

The idea of her father or Jeff getting inside her head in so intimate a manner was difficult enough to contemplate. The idea of Mik being there as well was different. It was simultaneously desirable and threatening. She did not want him to know how she felt, how she trusted him and loved the sound of his voice, the way his curls fell on his brow, and how his mouth curved when he smiled. She especially didn’t want him to know how her body warmed when he was near.

After her session with Liriel, she knew she could depend on her completely. Had it only been that morning? Jeff, she decided, was also trustworthy, but she did not know him, and her father was almost a stranger to her. How peculiar. She had known Lew Alton all her life, but she did not really have any idea of his character. She felt more certain of Mikhail, whom she had known less than a month, than she did of anyone in the room except Liriel. Mikhail’s presence would be reassuring, steadying, she decided, struggling with her conflicting emotions.

Margaret realized that everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to say something, and respectfully not hearing her jumbled thoughts. She could sense the ambivalence in the room, as if it were a palpable thing. “I think it would help if Mikhail . . . I have very little idea how a circle works. Istvana tried to explain it to me, but I was so determined not to go with her to Neskaya that I . . . just didn’t listen! Still, it seems like more people would be better than fewer.”
So long as the more does not include Aunt Javanne,
she thought.

Margaret felt her father’s mental laughter.
Believe me, Marja, we all wish to keep Javanne from joining us. She is quite capable, but she does not like you, and that would present a problem.

Javanne could make a
cristoforo
cross,
chiya.
In fact, I would not be surprised if she already has. I think you remind her of me, and we never got on well.

No, I think you do my mother an injustice, Uncle Lew,
Mikhail replied.
Despite her strong sense of family loyalty, and her wish to welcome Marguerida as a daughter, she cannot bring herself to warm to my cousin. It has nothing to do with you, Lew, and everything to do with another strong-minded woman under the same roof.

Enough chitter-chatter! Let’s get on with this,
Liriel announced.

“What should I do?” Margaret asked. “The other time I went into the overworld, Istvana gave me
kirian.
I’d rather not use that again. It made me feel extremely strange.”

“You hadn’t realized your Gift then, Marguerida,” Liriel replied calmly. “From what I monitored of you earlier today, I think you can throw yourself into trance easily enough. The major problem is your fear.”

Margaret gave an uneasy laugh. “That has always been the problem.” She looked at Lew, and saw that he looked serious and distressed. “Some of that incense you make would help—it settled me right down this morning.”

“I must have left my wits on the pillow,” Liriel said. She left the room in a flutter of her voluminous gown, and Margaret shivered. Her bare feet were icy. She looked at Donal, stretched out on the couch, and bent toward him. She took one of his hands in her own, and realized he was cold, too. She wanted to pick him up and hold him against her, to warm his flesh with her own.

He seemed so small, there on the couch, and she felt quite helpless. If only she had not had that dreadful vision, and Domenic had not been injured so badly. Why hadn’t someone bothered to tell her she might be able to compel people to do things with the force of her voice alone! She was a trained singer, so it was logical that her voice would be powerful, wasn’t it? Everyone kept telling her she was dangerous, but no one seemed willing to tell her what she needed to know about her newly-arrived talents. They just patted her on the head and told her she could learn what she needed to know in a Tower! Jeff, she realized, had wanted to talk to her alone, but there had not been time.

What if she could not call him back? She knew she would never forgive herself, if this was the outcome of her ignorance. But she was not entirely to blame, was she? She glared at Jeff and her father, waiting for Liriel’s return and warming their backsides in front of the fire. She liked Donal more than she had realized. She liked his cockiness and his intelligence. He was so self-assured for one so young. Margaret wondered if she had ever been that self-confident, and doubted that she had.

Lew returned her gaze with a solemn expression. She blushed furiously, and wished she had not looked at him so hard. Without being aware of it, Margaret tried to become invisible, as she had when she was a child. She might have managed it, but for the presence of her father and Mikhail. The younger man stood a few feet away, but she felt as if he were right beside her, so close she could smell him, and it was a very disturbing sensation. Her skin seemed too small for her body, and she felt close to bursting with tension.

What a royal mess she had made of things. The Lanarts had made her as welcome at Armida as they were able, but she had insisted on being headstrong. If only she could have liked Gabriel or Rafael better, or if the family were not so dead set on her marrying one of them. Now, if Mikhail had been her suitor, it might have been different.

Margaret was so surprised at this turn of thought that she nearly choked. She was certain the Lanarts would be glad now that she had not chosen to marry one of their sons. Javanne would be delighted to see the last of her. Having Aunt Javanne for a mother-in-law would be awful, anyhow.

But my father wouldn’t throw them out! He’s not like that at all.
Margaret glanced at her father, but he was now deep in quiet conversation with Jeff and did not appear to be paying any attention. She wasn’t sure that Lew wouldn’t dispossess
Dom
Gabriel and Lady Javanne, now she thought about it. She did not know him, and he might do anything.

That’s ridiculous! Gabe is like your father, and she doesn’t like
him
one bit.
She hesitated as Liriel came back with a small bag in one hand.
I don’t suppose you could bring yourself to run away with me, could you?
She felt her cheeks warm at her forwardness, but she was not sorry for it. It was the first time in her life that she had felt bold before any male, and she savored the emotion.

What a shocking idea! I would do it in a flash, but for the consequences.
He did not sound in the least shocked, but rather pleased at her suggestion. Indeed, he seemed to be laughing gently. Margaret felt warm in spite of her cold feet and her fear of what awaited her.

Lew and Jeff stopped talking, and Liriel told everyone to sit down. Then she cast her herbs into the fireplace. The heavy, sweet smell billowed out into the room, and Margaret began to feel less frightened. She was also less tired, as if the stuff had energized her. She closed her eyes and heard the sound of rustling fabrics. Without opening her eyes she knew that blue crystals were being unwrapped, and she felt the little group begin to grow close.

It was a curious sensation, warm and intimate, like arms welcoming. As it increased, Margaret knew she had always wished for such closeness, that its absence in her life had been an emptiness within her. She felt her father, strong as some ancient oak, a power she had never suspected him of possessing. There was more than strength in him. How could she not have known what a passionate, caring man he was? She had never known him! Why had they had been estranged for so long? Sorrow and loss seemed to overwhelm her, and she nearly cried out.

The smell of the incense softened her emotions. Reluctantly, she removed the rather ruined glove from her hand. The dampness had not done it any good, and the leather had dried stiff and hard. The almost invisible tracery of blue lines on her left palm began to feel warm, then hot beneath her skin. It was not a pleasant sensation, but it was not painful. What had Liriel called it? A shadow matrix. As Margaret thought these words, the pattern of lines on her hand seemed to hover in her mind’s eye in a misty way. She tried to concentrate on it, and the lines grew more solid, thicker and stronger.