Sorceress of Faith (48 page)

She
didn’t think so. “No. And I don’t want to sleep in that suite under yours,
either.”

“I
understand,” Alexa said. She looked to Bastien.

He
smiled at Marian. “We’ve put you in the suite under Swordmarshall Thealia and
her husband.”

“Oh.
I’m sure that’s fine. It has a shower stall?”

“Yes,”
said Alexa.

Bastien
leaned forward, covered one of Marian’s hands with his. “So you’re buzzed on
the battle aftermath, mind humming, muscles twitching, too restless to sleep—”

Marian’s
eyes widened. “I didn’t go into battle.”

“You
certainly did,” Alexa said. “Against the master, and won.”

Shaking
her head, Marian said, “I didn’t win, either.”

“You’re
alive and safe. He’s crippled and his plans are shot to hell. That means you
won,” Bastien informed her cheerfully. “So what do you want to do to wind down?
Walk to Castleton and back? It’s a nice night—um, early morning.”

A
little shudder passed through Marian. She didn’t think she could face the
expanse of dark sky, even sparkling with the stars of two sweeping galaxies.
The panic that had coated her had been too black. “I want to visit the
brithenwood garden.” She only knew that when she said the words.

“Sounds
great.” Alexa smiled at her and stood.

Marian
coughed at the pun. “The garden
does
have a great Song.”

“Fine
with me,” Bastien said, rising.

“You’re
going, too?” Marian got up from her chair.

He
smiled genially, tucking her right hand in his left arm, angling his right
elbow out for Alexa to take. “From now on,
Circlet
Marian, you will be
escorted at all times. You are too valuable a gift to be unprotected.”

Marian
didn’t know whether she liked the idea or not.

Alexa
winked at her. “I’ve lined up Faucon Creusse to be your companion.”

Then
Marian realized what Bastien had called her. She looked up at him as he led her
from the Keep to outside the Castle and to the shortcut through the maze. “You
know I’m a Circlet?”

Bastien
shrugged. “The strength of your Power was evident as soon as you landed inside
the pentagram. Fifth Degree Circlet.”

Marian
gasped.

Alexa
hurried forward to open the garden door and went through. Marian and Bastien
ducked under the lintel, then Bastien closed the door behind them.

The
scent was marvelous, comprising of early summer flowers, the brithenwood tree
itself, sweet grasses and the faint tang of the deep forest to the west. That
reminded her of Jaquar’s scent. She automatically tested their bond. It was
gone. She’d cut it deliberately. Marian swallowed.

Alexa
was helping her to the seat around the tree. Then the small woman shifted from
foot to foot before Marian.

Alexa
cleared her throat. “Um, Marian. Uh, I don’t want this to be a shock to you
like it was to me.” Alexa touched Marian’s hair.

Marian
jolted. “I’ve gone white?” No! She was far too young.

“No,”
Alexa said.

Marian
relaxed.

“Not
totally,” Alexa said. She took a wide lock of Marian’s hair at her right temple
and tugged gently. “Just this much.”

“Feels
big,” Marian muttered.

“It’s
very attractive,” Alexa soothed.

Bastien
kissed Marian’s fingertips. “Very attractive. The color of your hair is
exquisite. The streak only emphasizes it.”

“Oh,”
Marian said hollowly. She was torn between wanting a mirror immediately, and
hiding forever from the fact that she wore a silver Lladranan Power streak.

Alexa
plopped down beside Marian. The Swordmarshall fluffed her hair. “The question
is, will my silver stuff grow golden with age? That’s what happens here—the
older the mages get, the more golden it becomes.”

Marian
chuckled. “You aren’t a native. I don’t think so.”

“I
don’t, either.” Alexa sighed.

The
short exchange had lightened Marian’s mood.

There
was a rustle in the branches above her. She looked up and saw a blue squirrel.
She blinked, but it remained blue.

The
Song chose wisely when it Summoned you, Circlet Marian
, Sinafin said.
You
are close to fulfilling your specific task
.

“Not
yet,” Marian said quietly. “Not until I tell everyone tomorrow at the
Marshalls’ Council Meeting my deductions.” She frowned, fretting. “And there’s
one bit I don’t quite remember….”

Alexa
hugged her. “You will.”

Bastien
smiled with wicked charm. “You’re an Exotique Circlet—nothing will escape you.”

Sinafin
dropped a brithenwood branchlet in Marian’s lap.

29

T
uck woke Marian
up by tugging at her hair. “Pretty, pretty,” he said. “Now you look like a
Circlet.”

Marian
grunted and rolled over, feeling as stiff and sore as if she’d been beaten.
Groaning, she stretched cautiously, inch by inch. The bruises from when she’d
pinballed through the caverns painted her skin in blues and purples. Ick.

But
she could feel her muscles, and that was way over on the plus side.

She
hadn’t had any nightmares. That was good, too. She buried her head in the
pillow, wanting more sleep.

Tuck
nattered on. “We are going to report to the Marshalls. I will use my amazing
abilities and astound them all.”

Marian
cracked an eye open, saw the suite that had been furnished for a teenage girl.
Full of ruffles. It really didn’t matter. The shower had hot water and the bed
was soft.

“I
am going to be a star,” Tuck said.

“Is
that so?”

“But
to be at my best, I need
food
.” He smiled, showing his little teeth.

She
subsided back into the pillow. “Ask Jaquar—” Just that easily, she reached for
their bond, and all the hurt of a love-affair gone bad crashed over her. She
put her hands over her heart to keep it from cracking with the grief.

Their
bond was no more. She’d cut it in anger and fear and the horror of betrayal.
Nothing had changed that. She should want a connection with him again.

Jaquar
had said he hadn’t betrayed her, had tried to save her, then given her the
weapon-knot. Her eyes went to where it rested on the bedside table.

She
noticed tear tracks on the pillow, and her chin wobbled. She’d cried in her
sleep for him.

But
her judgment for men had been wrong again. She’d trusted a man who could send a
person to a hideous death. The original plan had been his.
He’d
put the
idea of sending her off into the maw of the Dark into Chalmon’s and Venetria’s
heads.

Tuck
said, “Yes, Jaquar would feed me well, but I don’t know where he is. He must be
in the Castle, but his heart does not beat in the Keep. I need food
now
.
Much food. Excellent quality food.
Now!
”

Marian
was distracted by Tuck’s observation, and it was so much easier to consider an
intellectual problem than to wrestle with the emotions ripping her apart. At
this moment thinking was good, feeling just plain hurt. Switch to reasoning
mode.

“You
can tell who is in the building by their heartbeats? You can recognize that?”

Tuck
pulled her hair.

“Ouch!”

He
grinned at the two strands he held in his paws. “You must listen to me, and get
me food.”

They
weren’t in Jaquar’s or Bossgond’s Towers, where Tuck had stashes. Marian
certainly was his caretaker again, and she didn’t want him running around the
big Keep by himself. “All right, all right.” As she sat up, another groan tore
from her. Despite the couple of weeks she’d spent here, being physically
active, yesterday had tested her body to its limits.

Grumbling,
she moved to the wardrobe. It held two gowns. One she’d worn for the past two
days. She checked it, but there was no sign of the tear she’d seen in the
Dark’s cavern. It looked and smelled fresh, but she didn’t know if she could
wear it again. Too many memories—donning it in the morning after great sex with
Jaquar…No. She should
not
think about that.

She
should focus on Tuck and her presentation—report, debriefing?—with the
Marshalls and Circlets. Probably some high-ranking Chevaliers and other community
representatives to the Castle. There’d be a full house. It would be as bad as
her doctorate oral exams.

Somehow
it didn’t scare her. She wondered if that was just the nonchalance that came
after a truly terrifying, life-threatening-and-worse experience, or if she’d
grown beyond her compulsion to be perfect. She hoped she’d grown.

“Come
on!” Tuck hopped up and down on her bare foot, his claws scratching.

Marian
took the other dress out. It was purple.

Still,
she put it on and scooped up Tuck. He’d like the elegant Marshalls’ dining
room. She wondered what the reaction would be to a hamster sitting on a linen
tablecloth, eating fruits and nuts from a bowl. The thought amused her.

When
she opened the door of the suite, a rangy man in well-worn Chevalier flying
leathers pushed away from the wall of the entryway.

His
bow to her was minimal and had little grace. “Marrec Guardpont. Chevalier
attached to Lady Hallard’s household. She’s—”

“The
Representative of the Chevaliers to the Marshalls. I take it you are my
escort?”

“That’s
right.”

She
studied him. Tall and strong like most Chevaliers. He looked tough, with lines
beside his steady brown eyes. He had small streaks of silver at each temple,
denoting modest Power. Marrec radiated solid responsibility.

“I
saw you in the Nom de Nom a couple of nights ago, and you were with Lady
Hallard last night when everyone Summoned me from the Dark’s nest.”

“I
added my bit,” he said, then gestured for her to go before him down the stairs.

He
was a man of few words, but the knife on his right thigh and the sword on his
left made her think he was most definitely a man of action.

Running
bootfalls of more than one person sounded. Marrec slipped in front of Marian,
drew his sword, tensed.

Surely
there wasn’t any threat in the Castle? In the very Keep?

“Let’s
be cautious,” Marrec said, and Marian stiffened. Was he telepathic? Empathic?

At
the next crossing corridor, guards ran past. They didn’t even look at Marian
and Marrec. The rest of the walk to the dining room was without incident.

Bossgond
found them as Marian was finishing the last bite of the croissant that came
with her eggs Benedict. Tuck was still munching. Marian had had to remind him
time and again that a hamster with cheek pouches stuffed to twice his size was
not elegant or star material.

As
soon as Marrec saw Bossgond, he pushed his chair back, stood, bowed to her and
inclined his head to the older mage, then left the dining room.

“The
Marshalls and other Circlets await,” Bossgond said as he stopped by their
table. He eyed Tuck. “The hamster will show us what occurred during your
tribulation in the Dark’s nest?”

Tuck
withdrew his nose from his bowl and sat up straight, paws curled inward. “Yes,”
he said, then opened and curved his mouth roundly in the way Marian knew meant
he was about to broadcast.

She
picked him up and stroked him, head to tail. He wiggled in pleasure. “Not yet,
Tuck. Let’s save it for the Marshalls.” She set him on her shoulder and he
began grooming, paying particular attention to his whiskers.

“I’m
ready,” she said, but now her stomach jittered.

Bossgond
took her elbow. “Jaquar will be present, and afterwards…”

Marian
frowned down at him. “Yes?”

Sighing,
Bossgond led her from the room and down the wide corridor. Finally, as they
made the last turn, he said, “Jaquar and I collaborated on a Ritual to Send you
back to Exotique Terre and return you—and perhaps your brother—from there. The
timing is difficult, but we think it might be done within a week.”

At
that moment, Luthan Vauxveau, Bastien’s brother, opened a door, saw them and
gestured them to him. On the door was a fancy harp. Underneath was written in
elegant gold lettering “Marshalls’ Council Chamber.”

The
Marshalls and Bossgond’s Circlets sat in a long rectangular room with a scarred
and dented wooden table and elaborately carved chairs.

Alexa
took a chair with a stack of pillows atop it. The chair back showed a sword.
Bastien sat to her left, in a chair carved with a shield. Other Marshalls
followed, in color-coded pairs, sitting in appropriately carved chairs.

Luthan
Vauxveau took the chair that showed a woman lifting her arms, head thrown back
to the stars, her mouth open. He was the Representative of the Singer, the
Lladranan oracle, Marian remembered.