Sorceress of Faith (19 page)

They
walked for several seconds in silence while Marian thought, shuffling his words
around until they might make sense. There was a faintly patronizing smile on
Chalmon’s face when she said coolly, “So how have the pulses and intervals
been? Weakening? Slowing?”

He
stopped, eyes widening. “How did you know?”

Marian
shook her head. Another scholar blinded by the intricacy of details and failing
to see the whole picture—the forest for the trees.

Staring
at her, he muttered, “You are bright. All the more reason…for you to progress
quickly.”

Venetria
stepped up to Marian, linked arms—and neither of them were shocked. Pondering
it, Marian thought Venetria had dampened her personal magnetic field.

“A
very valuable insight,” Venetria said, lifting her chin arrogantly in Chalmon’s
direction. “Another reason to consider our options when planning.”

Chalmon’s
eyes narrowed. “How did you guess that Amee’s Song has diminished?”

Marian
raised her brows. “Not a guess, a deduction. I’ve heard
two
World
Songs.” And despite all the harm humans had done to Earth, it was strong and
intense and Powerful compared to Amee’s.

“Humph,”
Chalmon said. Then he turned on his heel and headed back toward Bossgond’s
Tower. “I’ve discovered all I need to know about you.”

Marian
didn’t follow him and neither did Venetria. “How nice for you,” Marian said.

He
shifted. “Do you have anything you wish to ask us?”

“A
fair trade, do you mean?” Marian said.

Lips
pressed together, he nodded.

“How
kind of you to ask. Yes, Bossgond and I need a cook.”

Both
of them looked at her with surprise.

It
was good to surprise colleagues, too—let them know that she’d soon be a force
to be reckoned with.

They
walked back to the Tower in a not-quite-comfortable silence that Marian refused
to break. She’d wanted to meet more Circlets—and still did. There must be more
compatible people for her, those who could grow into friends. Naturally, the
image of Jaquar popped into her head and she strove to keep from coloring. She
could share commonalities with him, but he struck her more as “lover” than
friend. If she ignored a vague warning and let herself get involved with him…

When
they reached the Tower, they saw Bossgond talking to a little glass orb as he
watched Tuck roll around the flagstones in his hamster ball.

As
soon as Tuck saw her through one of the slits he attempted to roll to her—and
the ball lifted slightly from the ground to glide.

He
squeaked angrily. “Out, out, out.
Nasty
ball.”

Marian
wrinkled her nose. It was cloudier than before, which meant Tuck had peed in
it.

As
Bossgond disappeared into his Tower, she ran to meet Tuck.

“The
grumpy old man would not let me out! I am
not
a dirty animal. I tried to
go through a slit, but—” His words were more like high-pitched squeals in her
mind than real verbalization. He stopped and stood, nose twitching, pounding
the ball with tiny clenched paws.

“I’ll
get you out. Just a minute,” Marian soothed. She bent down and unscrewed the
cap. Ick, eau de hamster.

She
tilted the ball and Tuck bulleted out to roll in the sweet grass, then moved
onto a clump of wildflowers.

“Throw
it away, away, away!” demanded Tuck. “Out of that mean old man’s reach.”

Chalmon
and Venetria stared at him. Marian didn’t like the look in Chalmon’s eyes, even
more detached and examining than Bossgond’s.

With
two fingers Marian sailed the lid away like a Frisbee. Then she pulled back her
foot, called on her Power and kicked the plastic ball. It made a satisfactory
crack
and flew out of sight. “It’s gone.”

Tuck
ran back to her, smelling much better. He scrambled up her dress and into her
pocket, hiding in embarrassment.

Marian
aimed a cool glance at the pair of Circlets and smiled superficially. “Nice
meeting you.”

Chalmon
half bowed, Venetria half curtseyed, amusing Marian. Apparently her status
wasn’t high enough to rate full honors.

A
s soon as Marian
entered Bossgond’s Tower, Chalmon started off in the direction of the strange
orb that Exotique Marian’s creature had been in.

“What
are you doing?” Venetria asked, hurrying to keep up with him.

“An
experiment, a trial run,” he said. “We’ve hypothesized from what the Master
told Jaquar that even the essence of an entity from Exotique Terre could harm
the Dark’s nest.”

“Ah!”
Venetria said, excited. “In that odd sphere is the essence of an entity of
Exotique Terre.”

“I’m
sure we can find a way to send it into the maw as a weapon—observe whether it
can truly penetrate the shield and, if so, what result it might have on the
nest.”

Venetria
frowned. “We don’t know where the nest is geographically, on the physical
plane. We only know it isn’t near. So we must transport the sphere on an
etheric plane and fire it from there. That will take great, great Power.”

Chalmon
stopped and looked down. The ball lay at his feet. It wasn’t as odoriferous as
it had been. He hooked a finger in the opening and lifted it. Cracked but
whole. “The orb is made of a strange substance that is very light.”

Feeling
as if she was already several paces down a slippery path leading to immorality,
Venetria whispered, “How can we do this?”

“It
is time to replace observers loyal to Jaquar with those who respect me more.
With the aid of many, we should be able to accomplish sending this sphere into
the Dark’s nest.”

She
stared into his brilliant, glittering eyes. “I meant how can we consider
sending a
person
into the Dark maw?”

His
mouth tightened. “We need the knowledge. She can harm it, stop it from spewing
out more horrors, more sangviles.”

Shaking
her head, Venetria said, “You are becoming someone I’m not sure I know.”

His
voice was tough. “I am refining down to the man I must be in dangerous
circumstances. We cannot do
nothing
. We must act.”

“At
the expense of a woman’s life?”

Chalmon
started back to the landing area where they’d left their volarans. He sent her
a glance, one side of his mouth lifted in an attempt at a smile. “She is very
strong. She could destroy the nest and survive.”

Venetria
snorted. “You say that to pacify me. I’d rather wait, let the Exotique develop
into her Power.”

“Who
knows how long that will take? And she does not wish to stay here. We need to
know what happens in that nest. The more knowledge we have, the easier it will
be to defeat the mind behind all this—not only the horrors, but the Master and
his
master.” He stopped. “I am proceeding with this plan, Venetria, and nothing you
can say will stop me.”

“But
why?”

His
eyes fastened on her. “For you.”

F
or the rest of
that day and the next, Marian waited for the third Sorcerer she’d previously
met to show up. She braced herself to see Jaquar. Surely now that she’d gained
her balance in this new world—and had Tuck—she would find that her initial
response to him was exaggerated by circumstances. He’d be attractive, of course,
but no more so than any other man. In the back of her mind, she fretted about
that vision she’d seen when they’d touched. She didn’t recall the images that
had flashed before her eyes—just the feeling of overwhelming danger.

Exactly
the way she wanted to feel for a hunk. But better that than making a mistake
and injuring her pride or her heart later. This time, of course, she’d be cool,
knowledgeable, graceful.

But
he didn’t come.

Since
Bossgond loaded her with work, she let her expectation of meeting Jaquar fade.
She received the idea from Bossgond that she moved rapidly from one level of
spells to the next…and the next. For herself, the lessons seemed to open
someplace in her that inherently knew what to do, what to say, how to form her
spell tunes, whistles and chants for the best results. Some of this was her
training, but most of it sprang from her irregular studies of New Age beliefs.

By
the middle of her second full week, Marian worked in all three of her
“terrariums.” Oddly enough, she was most proficient with Lightning and
electrical storms. There had been no scary “incidents.”

Bossgond
had allowed her a brief look at Andrew one morning, but when she’d come up the
next day for breakfast, he’d covered the binoculars. He told her there would be
no more viewing by them both. He would watch and report, but the Power to
coordinate so they both could look through the binoculars was draining energy
they needed. Marian glared at him but said nothing.

One
morning during her third week on Lladrana, the bells from the harness of a
volaran rang near her windows, and Marian rushed to one, hoping Bastien had
brought Alexa to visit.

Jaquar
rode a black volaran with small white spots. The Circlet
was
sexy. Every
time she saw the man, he was more attractive. Marian snorted. She couldn’t
afford to fall for him.

“Marian!”
Bossgond’s irritated voice came from the trumpet tube next to her desk.

“Yes?”

“That
boy is here. He has good intent toward me so he just flew through my shield—”

A
knock echoed like thunder through the Tower.

“Ever
since I took you as an Apprentice, there’s been no peace. You’d think if people
saw that a door didn’t have a harp, they’d know they weren’t welcome,” Bossgond
grumbled. He’d taken the door harp off several days ago.

“I’m
not answering it,” Marian said, and got an immediate image of the old man’s
ears perking up in interest.

“Why
not?”

“Because
I had a vision when we first met.”

“Ah!
That has happened in the past with those who were Summoned for the Tower.
Visions upon their arrival. What was it?”

Marian
sighed. “I can’t recall. Too many experiences since then have piled on top of
that memory to remember it clearly. I just know he’s
Trouble
.”

“Hmm,”
said Bossgond, sounding more cheerful. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to talk
with the boy.”

12

M
arian wanted to
argue with Bossgond about admitting Jaquar to the Tower, but Bossgond appeared
at the door to the stairs from her suite, opening it.

“Coming?”
he asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Yes.”
Marian shifted her shoulders. A tingle had run up her spine to lodge itself at
the back of her neck. For the first time, she realized that there was no mirror
in her outer room. There was a small one that showed her face in the bedroom of
her loft, but nothing else. Bossgond had plenty in his chambers, but they were
for magical work.

She
looked at him. He was neat and tidy in a midnight-blue tunic that looked
brand-new, but only his clothes seemed ageless. He was ugly. Cute ugly, like a
bulldog puppy, but it was no wonder he didn’t hang mirrors around.

With
lagging steps, she followed him down to the bottom-floor parlor.

Jaquar
stood there. The sight of him—tall and well built and handsome, with those wide
streaks of silver over each temple and the blue, blue eyes—sent hormones
zinging through her veins.

She
caught him staring at her, and a whispered tune fluttered between them.

Marian
had learned enough to know that this could mean real trouble. Best she stay
away from the man. So she moved from the stairs and put a wingchair between
them.

His
eyebrows rose, but his attention turned to Bossgond, who watched them both with
a sly smile. The old mage held out both hands, wrists straight and palms up.

Jaquar
glanced at Bossgond’s gesture and his lips tightened. Marian realized she’d
noticed his full mouth, and tried to gather a little shield around her that
might block out the string of notes between them. It didn’t work.

Carefully
Jaquar placed his palms on Bossgond’s, overlapping the older Sorcerer’s hands.
Jaquar jerked, and Marian saw the flash of energy between them, the blending of
auras.

“I
see I made a mistake years ago,” Bossgond said. “Your parents requested you
spend some months under my tutelage, and I was too immersed in my own studies
and declined. But you would have been an excellent student and would have
helped me, and would have gained your Circlet status earlier.” Bossgond sighed
gustily and dropped his hands. “That’s in the past.”

“You
have an Apprentice of your own.” Jaquar inclined his head to Marian. “Marian.”

She
nodded coolly. “Jaquar Dumont.”

“She
won’t be an Apprentice for long,” Bossgond boasted. “I’ll have her a Scholar by
the morrow and a Circlet by the end of the month.”