Sorceress of Faith (20 page)

Jaquar
looked surprised. “Indeed.”

Marian’s
stomach churned. Tests ahead. She wished she hadn’t known, and wondered if
there was any mention of Testing for Scholar in her books upstairs—if she could
find the notes and prepare somehow.

“Come
upstairs to my suite,” Bossgond said silkily, like a spider to a fly.

Jaquar
eyed him warily. “Why?”

Bossgond
snorted. “Because I want to speak to you alone.”

Marian
gripped the back of the chair. “You could talk to him here.”

Waving
her suggestion away with an impatient hand, Bossgond threw them both an
admonishing look and started up the stairs. “Come, Jaquar.”

The
younger man made a half bow to Marian, then followed Bossgond.

Bossgond’s
voice floated down. “Marian, I want you to rearrange the western coastline of
your continent in your planet ball, generate a force-three storm, then bring
the sphere upstairs to us. Jaquar should see the results of your lessons with
me and your level of expertise.”

Her
pulse pounded in her ears. He’d just assigned her two huge tasks and expected
them to be carried out quickly! More, she would have to gather the storm, then
hold it as she walked from her rooms to his. She calculated—it was a trip up
twenty stairs. If she took it slow and breathed properly she might be able to
do it.

“Oh,
and we will be talking in the ritual room at the top of the Tower,” Bossgond
said.

Her
hands fisted. She couldn’t make another twenty stairs, a full two stories,
could she?

She
heard Jaquar’s grunt of surprise. Something in the sound sent adrenaline
coursing through her and she set her teeth. She didn’t have any time to waste.
Everything she had must be focused on her task.

She
didn’t want to fail the old Circlet. More, she didn’t want to fail in front of
Jaquar. A woman had her pride. Even though she’d been here only two and a half
weeks, she refused to fail.

For
a moment she just stood, jaw clenched, then she heard a scrabbling noise and
found Tuck sitting on his fat rump on her desk. He stared at her with wide
black eyes, his paws clasped together. “I will help!”

She
deliberately relaxed her mouth, rolled her shoulders and eyed him. No doubt
many people would dismiss the aid of a small rodent, no matter how magical, but
Marian just nodded gravely. “Thank you.” Who knew what an animal who ate an
atomball could do? Best to stretch his abilities as much as her own. Her pulse
jumped at the thought that he might not want to return to Earth with
her—something she didn’t want to think about, couldn’t think about, right now.

Walking
over to her desk chair, she settled into the fat cushion that was beginning to
take on her form. She looked at Tuck. “How do you want to help?”

He
chittered a few seconds—his thinking sound, she’d learned—then said, “I will
keep you calm.”

“Keeping
my hands from shaking as we take the terrarium up to Bossgond will be a great
help. Thank you.”

His
nose wiggled. “I need food,” he squeaked slyly.

With
a chuckle she scooped him up, rubbed him against her cheek, then set him
carefully down. “Come back to the desk when you’re done eating,” she said
absently, already focused on the planet globe, parting the clouds to see the
coastline. She took a moment to loosen her muscles, inhaled deeply and placed
her hands on each side of the two-foot terrarium.

Frowning,
she nibbled her lower lip as she considered how extreme the alteration to the
coast should be—or rather, how little alteration she could do that would be
acceptable to Bossgond. The real test was gathering the storm and holding it so
it didn’t break apart or go inland before she reached the two Sorcerers.

From
what she’d experienced on Lladrana, equality of the sexes was close, but some
men would always innately believe that strength made them superior to women.

Not
Bossgond. He was an intellectual snob. As long as a person had Power, they were
respected.

Jaquar
intimidated her because he was a Circlet, intelligent, handsome…and very
attractive.

There
was that warning she’d received when they’d first touched. Perhaps she could
recall the brief vision if she touched him again….

“Four
minutes, Marian,” Bossgond said through the speaking tube.

Marian
jolted—stared down at the west coast of the continent in her terrarium.
Concentrating, she delicately warmed the globe, causing the polar ice cap to
melt. It took time and mental effort, but better that she be late arriving than
not get her project done.

Melting
the ice cap raised the water level of the ocean and changed
all
the
coastlines of her continent, but she was following the rules. As she watched
the ice liquefy, she let out a slow and steady breath, blowing at the
terrarium. She used this to symbolize a rising wind—energy she sent to stir the
air and whip up the seas until a force-three storm whirled in the ocean,
sucking in clouds and water.

She
moved a little faster and harder than she’d thought, and the storm whirled
apart. Teeth clamped again, she struggled to keep the energy steady, growing,
spinning the storm off the coast.

A
few seconds later she heard a squeak and automatically angled her foot and leg
so Tuck would have easy climbing. He hurried up her gown to her shoulder, then
placed a tiny, clawed paw on her neck. The paw was cold.

But
it calmed her. Since most of her mind was engaged in her task, she didn’t hold
back when Tuck’s energy touched hers—a burst of light on her shoulder, stronger
than she’d expected, a tiny rush of tuneful notes.

“Sinafin
is teaching me,” he said.

Her
attention almost wandered. She kept it steady, forced extraneous thoughts from
her mind.

“She
says when you raise your Tower, I might become a feycoocu.”

No!
Marian would not listen. “Are you
trying
to distract me?”

He
squeaked a chuckle. “Payback for all those times I rattled in my cage and
needed food and you were
studying
.” He sniffed, then licked a drop of
sweat that had beaded around her hairline.

“Time
to go,” she said.

Slowly,
slowly she stood, lifted the planet globe.

It
tipped.

She
righted it, expelled a shaky breath. Dropping it would be disastrous.

With
tiny, cautious steps, mind on holding the storm, tension settling between her
shoulders, she moved from the desk to the door. And stopped.

She’d
have to separate some energy from the storm to open the door latch, or shift
the globe to lie along an arm, use her left fingers to push the latch…

“I
will open the door,” said Tuck.

It
flew open and slammed against the hall wall. His whole little body felt
warm—with embarrassment?

“Thanks,”
Marian croaked.

Male
shouts came from above. Jaquar’s “No, I won’t!” startled her, and the planet
globe joggled. Marian gasped, struggled to keep the storm steady. She pursed
her lips in irritation that the men couldn’t leave her to do her work in peace.

Her
head ached as she climbed the stairs; her arms tensed with the strain. The
forty steps seemed interminable, draining. Her whole body trembled and she
panted by the time she reached the ritual room.

Again
Tuck handled the door. The harp strings sang, the latch slowly compressed, the
door inched open.

When
it was wide enough for her to walk through—a graceful glide was beyond her—she
carried the terrarium in, looking only at her planet, ignoring the men except
as shadowed bulks she had to negotiate around to reach a waist-high table near
the pentagram rug.

“Let
the storm go, Marian, but no destruction to the land or trees.”

That
would mean keeping the Wind and Lightning in the sky or moving the storm
farther out to the sea. Marian clenched her fingers around the glass. Sweat
trickled from her temple and was absorbed by her hair.

She
couldn’t do it. She was going to fail. The storm started slipping from her
grasp, moved quickly inland, and lightning struck just outside the city in
forks that would soon ignite trees—her anxiety fueled the storm. If she wasn’t
careful, there’d be an earthquake, tornado
and
tidal wave. Heat crawled
up her face.

Her
neck strained as she angled her head to focus on the planet ball. For an
instant, she thought she’d grabbed control. Then the outside of the city went
up in flames, and a few seconds later the tidal wave put out the fire.

“Very
impressive,” Jaquar said.

She
bit her lip. She wanted to shut her eyes, or cry, or scream. Maybe even all
three.

Gasping
in a breath, she relaxed her hard, frozen grip on the glass, finger by finger,
cleared her mind of outside distractions and sent calm through herself
and
the ball. The damage had been done. She’d averted an earthquake, but the city
model was in ruins.

As
far as she was concerned it had been a pop quiz, and she
hated
those.
She’d had no time to prepare. If she’d known in advance, she could have
practiced. The wind peaked again and she forced her thoughts away from
self-recrimination to slowly heat the land and dry it.

“Now
restore the coastline to its previous form that you showed me this morning,”
Bossgond ordered in a steely voice.

She
almost lifted her eyes to stare at him. He must be kidding—or she wished he
was. But his energy beating at her was stern, forceful.

She
had no energy to do the task he required. Another failure loomed. Her dress
stuck to her, then released the scent of fresh flowers, and she flushed
again—they knew she sweated. She snatched at the heat of her body for energy
and re-formed a third of her coastline.

Now
she was cold, her knees trembling. She’d fall down soon.

“Sunlight,”
squeaked Tuck in her ear. His fur was warm by her neck. He was the best male in
the room, no question.

Good
idea. She lifted the globe and paced to a patch of sunlight slanting through a
tower window. The warmth felt good on her back, more, it gave her energy. She
thought she could
feel
it sifting through the ends of her hair.

Collecting
threads of Power from the sun’s warmth, the light that surrounded her, she
visualized the strands braiding into a rope. A link from the sun through her,
to her hands, to energy forming inside the planet ball.

She
hummed low, under her breath, then a little louder as Power crackled between
her hands, became a pressurized force that reclaimed land from the ocean,
solidified it, carved it into its former configurations.

Again
her dress released fragrance, but Marian barely noticed it. She was
concentrating on her world, the eastern coast of
her
continent. She
sculpted a cliff here in the north, making it more sheer, a rocky outcropping
appeared in the south. She re-formed the caves and arches she’d enjoyed
creating—why had she done that? It was fierce, intricate work. Finally the last
rock jutted from the sea.

With
the realization that she was through, her hands turned slippery, weakness
threatened. She couldn’t drop the sphere! No! Hastily she tottered back toward
the table to put the terrarium on it. The glass slid from her hands and landed
with a
clank
. But nothing worse happened.

She
let her knees fold and she sank to the floor. Not caring about appearances, she
wiped her sleeve across her forehead. Only then did she turn to look at the
men.

They
were inspecting her planet.

“What
say you, Circlet Jaquar?” Bossgond’s voice held a note of challenge.

“It’s
a little too pretty. Obviously made by a woman,” Jaquar said.

Tuck
ran down her gown to her lap, down her dress to the floor, crossed to the table
and swarmed up the carved leg. From there he jumped for Jaquar’s hand and hung
on with all four teeth.

“Yow!”
Jaquar shook his hand. Tuck bit deeper, then was thrown off.

Marian
instinctively reached out—a small ball of golden yellow coalesced around Tuck
and brought him to her. She held him in one palm and stroked him with an index
finger.

“How
dare you hurt my friend!”

Jaquar
smoldered at her. “Whatever it is, it attacked
me
.” He fashioned a
bandage around his hand. “Bad bite.”

“Rodent
teeth are quite sharp. They grow continually, you know.”

Jaquar’s
eyes flashed with pain and anger as he turned to her. He swore hot and long,
but since Marian didn’t know any of the words except
merde
, she just
smiled blandly.

“What
is
that thing?” asked Jaquar.

She
lifted Tuck and stroked her cheek with his small body. “
He
is my
friend.”

Jaquar
snorted, narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought it had the brain power to
understand me—but it did, didn’t it? It’s sentient, and has the beginnings of a
personal Song.”