Spellbreaker (60 page)

“The druid,” Dhrun asked, “did he die?”

“Instantly.”

Dhrun nodded and set her short, glossy black hair swaying. “I tried to resist. I tried not to—”

“You did what you had to. The responsibility is mine. And I'm sorry about your … most powerful manifestation.”

The other woman looked down at her two hands and made them into fists.

“Dhrun,” Leandra started to say but then stopped. Started over. “Should I still call you that?”

“I suppose you had better,” she said, a little sadly. “It is odd to feel disabled with only two hands. Most people have only two.”

“You are strong enough with two.”

Dhrun shook her head. “I'm afraid not. With the wrestling god gone from my complex, there's only an antique goddess of victory without a prayer—literally without a single prayer—and a young man.”

“I will pray to you.”

Dhrun smiled at her. “I can't protect you any longer. I doubt I'll be able to protect myself.”

“We will figure something out, I'm sure.” But even as she spoke, a blackness closed around her heart as she wondered if the damage she had done to her friend was too great, so much power gone so fast. Dhrun had changed, not just in terms of strength. Her accent and her demeanor had shifted. Little wonder—one third of her divinity complex had been removed. She was a different person, or set of persons.

They were silent for a long time, watching the city. Then Dhrun said, “I should have sought Rory out and said how sorry I was after Sir Claude died. I respected the old knight.”

“Don't beat yourself up. It wouldn't have consoled him. You were only protecting me when we were trying to escape the compound.”

“Should I express my condolences to your father?”

“Let me deal with that.”

Dhrun let out a long breath. “Thank you.” The two women embraced.

“Don't give up,” Leandra whispered. “You're all I have left.”

They stood like that in the tropical sunlight, felt the liquid breeze around them. Leandra realized how much solace she found in Dhrun's Nika manifestation. She had taken her friendship for granted. In fact, Leandra realized, she had taken too many things for granted.

When they released each other, Leandra said, “I need to speak to my parents. Stay here and rest.” Dhrun started to object but Leandra insisted and stepped out into the hallway.

In the pavilion she found her father in discussion with Doria and several city watchmen. “Father,” she said, unsure of how to behave around him.

“Lea,” he said with a nod. There was a weariness in his eyes that she had never seen before.

“How are you?”

He seemed not to hear her. “I spoke with the Trimuril this morning. I'm heading up to the Pavilion of the Sky. It's vital that we capture all the prayers for the city's defense. Recasting my metaspell should help that.”

“Will you be safe up there?”

“Yes, perfectly safe. There's a bunker below the Pavilion. And all the prayers after the attack have created some anti-cannon and anti-rocket war gods. I'll take two of them and several hydromancers with me. I talked it over with your mother. If all else fails, she could fly up.”

“And … Rory?”

“Cremation later today. His remains will be interred next to Sir Claude's.”

“I should have realized how close Dhrun was to manifesting his lethal manifestation.”

Nicodemus continued to look her in the eyes, but his expression slackened further into exhaustion. “There are many things all of us should have done differently.”

Leandra was surprised her father had not offered a justification for the situation or her actions. Was he finally giving up on her? She was searching for the words that might tease out what her father was thinking when Doria approached. Without looking at Leandra, the old hydromancer told Nicodemus that his party was ready to depart. Nicodemus nodded. “Lea, I will be gone for a day, two at the most. The priests of the Trimuril are keeping runners in their monastery ready, if you need to send me a message.”

“What about Vivian's anti-dragon spell?”

“I mentioned it to Francesca. She's confident that she'll be able to avoid it.”

“But if the Savanna Walker couldn't avoid it with all the power of Los's ancient body, how could she?”

“I don't know, Lea,” he said in a tone that bordered on exasperation. “Your mother felt very strongly about it.”

“But I could protect her by separating her draconic aspects from the rest of her.”

Nicodemus flinched. “We should be careful in that regard.”

“You think I'd hurt her?”

“That's not what I said.”

“Is it what you think?”

“I have been thinking about Rory and Sir Claude, and I couldn't sleep last night. So, right now I'm too tired to think of anything else. And I need to get going.”

Leandra felt as if she were falling. “Of course,” she said and then decided that she was being foolish. She stood up straighter and repeated, “Of course.”

“I'm sorry, Lea. I'm just…”

“No, I understand. I will mention my concerns to mother.”

“Just … don't…”

“We won't fight.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

He embraced her, quickly, and then set out onto the street.

As Leandra watched them go, her sensation of falling intensified. She longed for the life she had known before she had bought the prophetic godspell from Lotannu Akomma. She used to be so certain. She had known in her bones that she was doing the right thing. But now everything had become confused.

She walked back up the stairs, heading toward her mother's suite. But after turning a corner, she found herself standing before Ellen and the young boy with Holokai's eyes.

Ellen stiffened, but then bowed her head and said, “My Lady Warden.”

The boy stepped closer to Ellen.

“Magistra,” Leandra said and nodded. Leandra couldn't say that she'd ever liked the other woman, but she was acutely short on allies. “Magistra, I can't thank you enough for yesterday. You did me a great kindness when you took off the loveless spell so I could talk to my father.”

The hardness around Ellen's eyes softened. “I am glad to hear it.”

At a young age, Leandra had realized that most people would adopt a charitable opinion of anyone who gave to them. What exactly was given—flattery, attention, money—was almost less important than the act of giving. However, a smaller number of people awarded their esteem, not because of what one gave to them, but because of what one asked of them. Leandra had long ago discovered that the hearts of many physicians worked in this way, and that they were particularly vulnerable to requests from the vulnerable.

“This is a bit embarrassing,” Leandra said, “since you were already so kind to me, but I wonder if I could ask you for help again.”

Ellen stared at her. “How can I help?”

“You can call me Lea.”

Ellen's mouth tensed just a fraction. That had been going too far.

Leandra continued. “The loveless spell … it keeps my disease at bay; however, it has some disadvantages.”

“That's putting it mildly.”

“I'd like more time with the spell off of my mind.”

That gave Ellen pause. Behind her, the boy came closer. “You'd like it stored in a spellbook?”

“If possible, but what really worries me is that when I take it off, I get a dramatic disease flare. I've reduced the textual aspects of my body and started to take the stress hormone hoping it would prevent a flare. But I'm not sure if there is anything more I could do.”

“Your mother knows more than I do about your condition.”

Leandra gave the physician a deadpan stare. “And how well would you say my mother and I are getting along now?”

“Okay, it's a bad idea. Maybe the worst idea I've ever had.”

“That's why I wonder if you could help me with the dosing.”

Ellen seemed to think about it and then nodded. “Would you like to talk now?”

“I should speak to my mother first. May I come to you afterward?”

When Ellen nodded, something else occurred to Leandra. “Magistra, there's one other thing … There's a bit of a dangerous question I'd like to ask.”

Ellen put her head slightly to one side.

“The Savanna Walker's revelations about my … origins … are likely being spread about as some rather wild rumors. I'm sure there are those who are saying that I'm the incarnation of evil.”

“You're not?”

She wasn't going to make this easy. “No more so than any other women.”

“Then there's no hope for any of us, is there?”

Leandra kept her eyes fixed on Ellen's. “I am trying to do the right thing.”

“What's your question?”

“Have you heard of anyone speaking against me or my parents because of what the Savanna Walker said?”

“I've not, but given that I am your mother's student—”

“I ask because everyone knows you don't approve of me. I am not asking for your esteem or even your tolerance. But I hope you'll help me do the right thing and protect the league and my parents.”

Ellen studied her, more thoughtfully now. “I will make some inquiries. If I discover anything, I will tell you and your mother right away.”

“Thank you, Magistra. Do you know if now would be a good time to see my mother?”

“It might be; she's out in the garden. You can find me in your mother's suite after breakfast.”

Leandra nodded and they walked past. But as she started down the hall, the floorboards squeaked. She turned around to see the boy, his dark eyes fixed on hers. Ellen stood at the end of the hall, looking on.

“Lady Warden?” the boy asked.

“Yes?”

“Is it true that you knew my father?”

“That depends. Who is your father?” Leandra would have bet every coin on the island that she knew, but she had learned long ago that assumptions were dangerous. She glanced up at Ellen and wondered what she and her mother had told the boy.

“The shark god Holokai. His last incarnation died two days ago.”

“I did know him, very well. What is your name?”

“Lolo.”

“It is nice to meet you, Lolo.”

“What was he like?”

In the way the boy asked the question, Leandra knew that no one had yet told him that she had killed his father. “Holokai was very strong and very brave. He hunted down many neodemons.”

“Francesca said that the prayers from his cult will likely reincarnate him again soon.”

Leandra nodded.

The boy began to fidget with the hem of his blouse. “Could you tell me more about him sometime before I meet his new incarnation?”

“As soon as there is time.” And assuming, she thought, we are both still alive.

“Thank you,” the boy blurted before hurrying to Ellen.

Leandra turned and walked to the back stairway that led to the garden. She turned over the possibilities of Holokai's reincarnation. The new deity would have only those memories that his cult had known to pray about. He would have no idea how he had been deconstructed. Leandra could tell him that his last incarnation died fighting a neodemon or the empire or whatever. If they deceived the new Holokai, he would have no way of knowing that everything he learned about his past life was a lie.

As Leandra walked down the narrow steps, she wondered if the same thing could have happened to her. Perhaps the truth about her last incarnation had been lost or misinterpreted. Perhaps she was not what everyone supposed her to be.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The compound's garden lay on its upper terrace, where a dam of dark volcanic rocks held one of the city's smaller streams into a pool. On the water, lily pads surrounded a single blossom made pellucid by morning sunlight. Beneath the surface, speckled koi swam in languid overlapping circuits.

Francesca sat at the pool's edge, comfortable in the shade of a banana tree. From her perspective, the water stretched out to the terrace's edge, occluding the city below and mirroring the sky above: a patch of blue infinity.

Francesca found herself wondering about the koi. What did they think of the world above the water, if they could think at all? Perhaps they stared at the lotus flower and imagined a heaven of light and beauty. Or perhaps air was to them a lifeless void, the lotus symbolic of an uncaring universe. Whatever their underwater understanding, they could not imagine the flower as it was. Or at least, they could not imagine it as Francesca could.

Because Francesca could sometimes perceive time as a landscape, she had always thought that she understood prophecy. She had thought she understood the War of Disjunction. Now she realized she had been like her hypothetical koi trying to imagine the lotus flower. The Disjunction had come but its nature was unpredicted and unknown.

Trying to put aside her worries, she took a deep breath and contemplated the blueness of the water, bay, sky. Soon she had to prepare for another meeting with the Trimuril. And then there was the tragedy of the two dead lovers. She hadn't known them well, but Nicodemus thought they would have had a good chance at happiness together. Well, as much of a chance as any two people can find in each other. Now that chance would never come.

But for a moment all that could wait. Now there were shades of blue and koi and—

“Mother?”

Francesca jumped. “Oh, holy burning hells, Lea, you startled me.”

“I thought you saw me coming.”

“I was lost in thought.” She scooted over on the bench. “Would you like to sit? I've been meaning to find you.”

As soon as Leandra sat, Francesca realized how short the bench was; they had to sit closer to each other than they had for decades. Then her daughter said, “You know what the Savanna Walker said about Vivian's anti-dragon spell?” and Francesca had to suppress a groan.