The Storm Witch (49 page)

 

Even with the woolly shawl still wrapped around her, Carcali found the walk through the hidden passages chilly. She was glad to get out into the main hall of the Sanctuary, and gladder still to follow Xerwin into a more enclosed area, where small braziers warmed up the rooms. The room they finally reached was quite a large one, filled with the soft lights of candles and small shaded lamps. The Paledyn was there, as Xerwin had told her, with someone else, a larger, golden-haired man behind her. But Carcali’s eyes were caught almost immediately by the two women on the far side of the room, standing close together, and holding hands. They peered at her as if they were standing at three times the distance.

They had the White Disease. Perfectly colorless, with pink eyes. Carcali had read about the affliction, but had never dreamed she would ever see such a thing.

“Look toward me, please.” Carcali turned her head toward the rough silk sound of the Paledyn’s voice, but her eyes remained fixed on the horrible twins. She felt cool fingers where her neck met her shoulder.

And then the world went black.

Dhulyn Wolfshead caught the slight form in her arms as the girl went down. She looked up at Javen Finder, who nodded.

“She’s there,” the Finder said. “The Storm Witch.”

“Carcali,” Xerwin said. “That’s her name.”

“Good,” Dhulyn said. “That may help us.”

“Dhulyn, Sister?” Amaia’s voice trembled and was in a higher pitch than normal. She clung to Keria, and both pairs of blood-red eyes were round. It was easy for Dhulyn to forget, having Seen them so often in Vision, that the White Twins were children themselves.

“Parno,” she said, as gently as she could. Her Partner immediately went to the two Seers, standing behind them and putting his arms around them. Amaia leaned into his chest, and Keria grabbed his forearm in both hands and clung to him.

“There now, my hearts, my own ones,” he said in a voice that made Dhulyn’s own heart skip a beat. “You’re tired, I know, but this will soon be over, and then we can all rest.”

“Tired now,” Keria said, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. True, Dhulyn thought, they were all tired. The twins were tired as children were, more emotionally than physically. Still, the White Twins were
not
children, and they had an adult’s ability to set aside the immediate needs of the body, to understand that there were reserves, and that they could draw upon them.

“Come, my sisters.” Dhulyn put as much smile into her voice as she could. She laid the child’s body down on the pallet they’d prepared for it, and signaled to the other Marked with her eyes. Ellis Healer took his position at the girl’s dark head and bent low, his hands on her shoulders. Javen knelt to her left, centering the bowl carefully on the child’s abdomen. Javen then took Ellis’ left wrist in her right hand, and the child’s left wrist in her own left hand. Rascon Mender mirrored Javen’s position on the girl’s other side.

“Come sing with me,” Dhulyn said, holding her hands out to the White Twins. “One song before bed, please?”

Smiling now, Amaia and Keria let go of Parno and ran to Dhulyn’s side, taking her hands and forming a tight circle around the kneeling Marked, and the child’s body.
Too bad there aren’t more of us,
Dhulyn thought. Even she, hardened Mercenary as she was, could feel a great weariness hanging over her. They’d done what they could to restore their own life energies with food and drink while waiting for Xerwin, but it was little enough in the face of what they had yet to do. It wasn’t as though they had their pathway laid out for them, to run down swiftly. They would have to improvise as they went. That took time, and time took energy.

Energy. There was no ganje here, but there were other stimulants, other drugs.

“Ellis,” she said. “Do you keep fresnoyn in the Sanctuary? Or any of the fressian drugs?”

“Here.” Xerwin stepped forward, his hand already reaching into his pouch. From it he drew the tiny jeweled box that held his powdered fresa and held it out to her. Remm Shalyn was already pouring out a cup of the red currant juice on the nearby table. Dhulyn added the entire contents of the vial—not that it was much, and stirred it with her finger.

“Drink.” Dhulyn held the cup out to Keria. “Just a mouthful, mind.

“You put your finger in it,” the girl said, wrinkling up her nose.

“Ah, but I’m made of sugar,” Dhulyn said. “Watch.” She took a good-sized mouthful herself and swallowed. “Mmmm, that’s good.”

“Give it to me, I’ll drink it,” said Amaia. In the face of her sibling’s readiness to obey, Keria took the cup and, still grimacing, swallowed a careful mouthful.

“Now me! My turn!” Amaia finished the liquid that was in the cup and smiled, licking her lips.

Dhulyn handed Remm Shalyn back the cup, nodding to him and to Xerwin. She looked at Parno.

“In Battle,” she said, not caring who heard her.

Parno touched the fingers of his free hand to his forehead. “And in Death.” He lifted the syrinx once more to his lips.

Dhulyn took hold of the girls’ hands again, and this time they smiled at her. The room seemed very bright, the glowing light from the candles appearing almost to throb in time with the beating of her heart. When she moved her head, however slowly, colors and light trailed behind things, like paint smearing under a brush. The music, too, began to pull at her, and Dhulyn shifted her feet in time. Keria laughed, a deep-throated, woman’s laugh, and began to sing. Dhulyn and Amaia joined in. As the music and the dance swept over them, Dhulyn looked down at the body of the child. The child would want to dance with them. Would want to join them in their game.

T
HE CHILD’S BODY GASPED, arching this way and that, but the Marked kneeling and standing around her remained impassive and still. The Mender, Parno couldn’t remember her name, perhaps
she
showed some agitation, her eyes moving under her closed lids, her lips pressed more firmly together.

The White Twins stood steady and firm, their skin so transparent that even in this light Parno thought he could see the movement of their blood under it. That same light gave Dhulyn color, made her pale skin a rich ivory, her blood-red hair almost ruby—though Parno couldn’t be sure whether this seeming richness was the result of the contrast between Dhulyn and the White Twins, or of his own wonder at being able to see her at all. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
Let me not be dreaming,
he prayed, though he couldn’t have said which god he spoke to.
Or if I dream, let me never wake.

The Marked sat back on their heels. The Healer reached up with his six-fingered hand to massage the bony ridge of his brow. The Mender was breathing fast, the Finder looking around her, blinking. The little girl curled over on to her side, the palm of her hand tucked under her cheek.

The Seers did not move.

#She needs help# The thought came from nowhere. #Your Brother, your Partner, she needs your strength#

*How* Even as he responded, Parno had lowered the pipes and went striding over to where Dhulyn stood, eyes closed, holding the hands of the White Seers, ready to take her by the elbows and support her.

#No# #Urgency# #Keep playing# #Come with us# #Let your mind float# #Follow the music#

Parno set the syrinx to his lips once more, trying not to let his impatience get in the way of the music. How exactly was he supposed to let his mind float when Dhulyn was in danger? And how could she be in danger, for that matter, when she was standing right in front of him?

#Concentrate#

Parno squeezed his eyes shut, and made a better effort, letting the demands of the music control his breathing, letting the words of his personal triggering
Shora
run through his head. He felt himself relaxing, the muscles of his shoulder and neck loosening. He began to hear another tune, not competing with, but running counterpoint to the one he was playing. He began to play
to
that tune, answering it and following it with his own music, until he felt that the new tune carried him, and his music, away with it.

The new tune was the sound of the wind playing in the same vast meadow that he’d sensed before, the vast garden of souls where those who had gone to the Crayx at the death of their bodies could be found. The new tune was the tinkling fall of an unseen fountain, the songs of the birds, and the humming of the minds that lived there.

#Come further in# #This way, look here#

Parno found himself in a cool blue grotto, an enormous limestone cavern with an underwater passage to the sea.

#This is our place of refuge# came the thought. #For your Partner a forest, for the child Xendra a sunny beach, for us, this cavern# #Come# A head broke the surface and Parno looked into the deep, round eyes of a Crayx. It was a pale green, with a copper iridescence to its scales. Parno touched his fingertips to the his scaled cuirass; it was from this Crayx, he realized, that his armor had come. The Crayx extended its long, narrow head, and Parno knew immediately what was wanted, and climbed onto its back. Its neck was only slightly larger than the body of a horse, and he was able to take a firm grip with his knees, and brace his hands on the ridged scales.

#The link to your Partner is very strong now, and her Vision prevails, aided by her White Sisters# #It is there we must go# #Now#

#Fear not# the Crayx told him, and then it dove into the water.

Normal, she felt normal. Carcali ran her hands over her face, hair, body, stunned with what she was feeling, almost frantic with delight. This was her real body, her own body. She seemed to be inside a hedgerow, but there was light, somehow, enough to see by in any case. There were people on their knees on the floor, and three others, standing to one side.

“This isn’t right.” She heard someone say. “She’s much older than this.”

And then she feels a sharp displacement of air.