Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (24 page)

‘I had a feeling you might be needing this, my lady,’ Addie began with a smile. ‘Your father has just lit his in his study. The way you two read those books makes me wonder what you do with all that learning.’

‘Not enough.’ Jenn took the candle and placed it on the
round table she had put in here last week. Already it was covered in books, vellum and pens. Fortunately, Addie couldn’t read, and wouldn’t know what to make of the subject matter anyway. ‘You know what to do tonight?’

‘Yes, my lady. I’ve already seen Shane. I’ll be ready when you go. I’ve laid out your clothes in the dressing room – and I even remembered to lock the door this time.’

‘Good,’ Jenn laughed. The poor girl was absolutely entranced by Shane and had been mortally wounded two nights ago when he’d found out she’d forgotten something so important. It wouldn’t happen again. ‘I’ll call you before I leave.’

‘Be careful, my lady,’ Addie said from the door, her plain, pudgy face creased in a frown of worry. ‘I heard about the patrols. You should stay well clear of them.’

As the door closed behind her, Jenn returned to the table and pulled up a chair. Before her were several books on history, some on land management and a rare copy of Tilkor’s
Battle of Fire
, a Lusaran account of the conquest of Lusara. Jacob had given it to her with his own hands. There were few Great Houses who dared to keep a copy of this book.

What caught her attention, however, were the five sheets of paper laid out flat and covered in a fine, intricate text. The promised letter from Martha. When she wasn’t actually touching it, the signs and symbols were unreadable, a language unknown to any scholar, no matter how learned. When her hand picked up the first sheet, the scrawl abruptly clarified and she could read it perfectly.

She brought the candle closer, settled into her chair and picked up the next page.

Of course, by the time things had deteriorated with the empire, our sorcerer ancestors, the Cabal, had already built up a large following. There were Cabal palaces from one side of the southern continent to the other. Every court had a representation, every Prince, a skilled teacher. Sorcery was a feared but respected skill – no less thought of than good swordsmanship. It was no secret that every petty King or
greedy Baron desired his own pet sorcerer – or better still, for his son to develop the powers himself. This was never the case. In those days there was no division within the Cabal as there is today between the Enclave and the Malachi. Certainly there must have been good men and bad men, but the structure of the Cabal kept a balance and crimes were punished within and by our own laws.

Unfortunately, very little writing survives to tell us about the deeper reasons why the empire turned on the Cabal. Yes, I know common history tells us that it was the Cabal who betrayed the empire, but there are unarguable facts that cannot help but make us question. A palace burned down because help was refused in a local war. Sudden taxes were raised on certain books and instruments used only by sorcerers. Many other seemingly minor but pertinent events. All of these happened before the Cabal so much as raised a hand in its own defence.

The rest of it you already know, though I’m sure a few details will have been left out of your instruction. For one, every palace, every building constructed by the Cabal was destroyed – with the exception of the Palace of Bu. We have no idea why that was left standing; until recently, were never even sure it was a house of the Cabal.

The war with the empire had been going for some time. It appears there was some dissension within the Cabal about the advisability of continuing the war since the sorcerers were terribly outnumbered; less than half of their population had real combat ability and it was unlikely they could ever win. There is some argument within the Enclave that the Cabal was much more powerful than we are today, but there is no way to prove this.

The dissenters within the Cabal gathered together in secret and, with some of their most powerful minds working together, they created the Key. This small group then gathered their people together and left Bu, heading across the sea to Mayenne, which was then a collection of small Dukedoms. It was at this point the group split in two. Our forefathers founded the Enclave, while the others became the Malachi.

Most of us have never seen a Malachi, so you may wonder why we kill them. The truth is, the Malachi want the Key. They know more of its power than we do and might even be able to wield it properly. Every encounter we have had with Malachi confirms that their intention is to take the Key from us by force, and wipe us out in the process. They want the Word of Destruction from the Key. They desire only to dominate – to make the world pay for having driven sorcerers into the dust five hundred years ago. When questioned, Malachi always admit as much. We make no attempt to exterminate them, but we cannot afford to ever let one of them survive with knowledge of us. Should they ever find out where we are, we will all be destroyed.

I know this story is incomplete in many areas, but I thought to give you an overall picture this time. Please let me know your questions and I will attempt to address them. I can do little more today as the baby is kicking wildly and upsetting my concentration. Arlie is hovering by and complaining that I’m not getting enough rest. Men worry so! I have enclosed a brief summation of the first few generations of the Enclave and marked those whose marriages were brought about by Bonding. As you can see, by the time the third generation appears, there is no Bonding at all. I can only assume that it was either impossible to continue, or deemed unimportant. Or it is possible that after that amount of time, people had simply forgotten the process involved.

This letter may take some weeks to reach you, as our couriers must be very careful. I pray that by the time you receive this, my unruly baby will be born. Take care, Jenn, and keep yourself well.

With love,

Martha

No Bonding at all after the second generation? Surely there must have been some folk still alive who knew about it – and why it was important. And surely it had to be very important, otherwise why would the Key, now . . .

Jenn dropped the paper and buried her head in her arms.
This was so difficult, so impossible. If only that man wasn’t so damned stubborn . . . if only she could have stayed at the Enclave longer . . . if only she could talk to Patric, to Finnlay . . . to . . .

Damn you, Robert, answer me!

She punched the table in frustration, knocking books sideways. There was no response, of course. No, he wouldn’t bother with something as inconvenient as having to answer her childish questions. He would just stick to his principles and damn the consequences. He knew he was right.

But he would never say why.

And what if he was wrong? What if the Key did have a plan – and one that was necessary they follow? What if the Key knew how they could find the Calyx, or the survival of the Enclave depended on her – or Robert – Standing the Circle?

The Key had named Jenn as the Ally, Robert as the Enemy. It had known about their mindspeech, said they were Bonded. What else did it know?

What
was
Bonding?

Jenn stood slowly and made her way to the window. There were no stars and no real clouds to speak of. But the air was chilly and there was enough wind to make the candle flicker.

Patric had assumed that Bonding had something to do with marriage – that it was a method of choosing partners. But . . . what if it was something else? After all, the Key had said that she and Robert
were
Bonded – not
would
be. So that meant that whatever it was had already happened. But they weren’t married, so Bonding couldn’t just mean that. Not if the Key could be believed.

Then what?

Mindspeech.

What had Robert said? She’d managed to do something sorcerers had only dreamed about. For how long? Had they been able to do it once and lost the ability? And why had they been dreaming about it if nobody had ever done it before? Perhaps it was that those who could mindspeak were Bonded and married simply because of that talent, hoping it would breed in the next generation. If mindspeech was so
valuable and desired, wouldn’t sorcerers do everything they could to increase the number of practitioners?

Jenn moved back to the table. She drew a fresh sheet of paper close and began a letter to Martha.

Sweetheart
, she began with a wry smile,
tell me all you know about the legend of mindspeech . . .

*

Shane kept close to Jenn all the way to Markallen’s farm. Brother Benedict travelled ahead, alone in the night. He knew she rode behind – but had no idea of the watch she kept for any kind of approaching danger. Benedict had long since given up objecting to her taking a real part in their nightly activities: her determination to make this plan work ran deeper than providing a little material help. The priest was not happy, but assumed her desire to accompany him on these trips was a symptom of her growing vocation – and he was not a man to discourage something like that, even if it was so oddly demonstrated.

The night was dark, but not at all peaceful. Twice, a patrol had come close and they’d had to stop and wait in silence until it was safe to move on. Then, just before midnight, they saw the lamp suspended on the inky horizon. Markallen’s farm.

Remote, perched on a rocky hillside, the farm eked out an existence with goats and a few pigs. There was little for the chickens to peck at but they still managed to survive – mostly. They had started out with eleven children, but hunger, poverty and several harsh winters had reduced that number. Markallen, a man of wiry determination, kept his mother, two daughters and young son by the sweat of his body and a blind unwillingness to give up.

Markallen’s wife had died giving birth to the boy, but his mother had worked hard to fill the void. She was old and had been ill for some time; the evidence was clear to Jenn as she dismounted in front of the farmhouse. Things were not quite as orderly as they had once been.

Markallen was waiting at the door. ‘Brother Benedict, it was good of you to come so far.’ He stepped aside, then
caught sight of Jenn. There was surprise on his face, but also something else. Was it satisfaction?

‘My lady! We . . . are honoured!’

Jenn gave him a smile and quickly took off her cloak to reveal the old and worn dress. This was a meeting to be kept secret. Markallen nodded, but still appeared a little nervous – and Shane noticed. As Markallen led Benedict through the front room, Shane leaned forward and whispered for Jenn’s ears only, ‘I hope the man’s nerves are set about for his mother’s sake only.’

Jenn shook her head. ‘He’s an honest man, Shane. His mother would have died weeks ago if it hadn’t been for Benedict. He won’t betray us.’

Without waiting for a reply, Jenn followed Benedict into the back room – and came to a complete stop. Benedict was kneeling beside a pallet bed, but this was no sick old lady. This was a young man, barely in his twenties – and he wasn’t sick, but wounded.

‘I’m sorry, my lady. . .’ Markallen stammered, almost twitching now. ‘I had no choice. This was the only way I could get help for . . . for . . .’

‘There’s no point in hiding the truth,’ said a quiet voice from the door. ‘Jennifer Ross is of the Lusara blood royal and will not betray us.’

Jenn and Shane whirled around at the same time to face the woman who stood there. Jenn opened her mouth in shock, but no words came out.

‘Forgive me,’ Rosalind murmured, moving forward. Her eyes were dark with fatigue, black shadows marring her pale beauty. ‘I would have come to you directly, but I knew of no other way to contact you without discovery. I know I place your life and all these good people in the gravest of danger, but I am here to beg of you your help.’

*

‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but . . . are you mad?’

Rosalind sat on a stool by the poor fire, clasped her hands together and lifted her face towards the young woman who stood before her. Having retired to the front room to give the monk space to work, Rosalind was now prepared for the
barrage of questions. The wary guard Jennifer had brought with her stood by the door, his arms folded as though expecting trouble.

Still, Jennifer was waiting for an answer. She stood there, hands by her sides, her face open with shock. Her eyes, brilliant blue, were the brightest thing in the room.

‘Perhaps I am mad, or perhaps I was driven. Does it matter? The simple fact is that I am here and I need your help.’

Jennifer’s gaze narrowed and she glanced over her shoulder. ‘Shane, would you take a stroll outside, just to make sure it’s all peaceful?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

He left quietly but unhappily and Jennifer turned back, her eyes now dark and intense. ‘Have you come alone?’

‘No, my children and my sister are upstairs asleep. The Earl of Kandar helped us escape and he now keeps watch over them.’

‘And the man in there, wounded? How did that happen?’

Rosalind swallowed. ‘We were discovered two nights ago, by a small patrol. Kandar and his men managed to kill them all, but Dien was killed and Hugh wounded. We fled, but it was soon obvious we could go no further without getting help for Hugh. We made it to this farm and Markallen said he could get us a healer – one who was not of the Guilde. I questioned him further and he admitted that you were involved. When I heard that, I felt that at last the gods had heard my prayers.’

Jennifer frowned, her fine brows coming together in a movement almost at one with her sigh. She was indeed beautiful, this strange girl, thought Rosalind. With those extraordinary eyes, light smile and the raven hair, she was enough to turn any head. But rarer still was that this beauty was lit from the inside with a fire that seemed unquenchable. A fire which drove her to take such terrible risks with her own life in pursuit of her principles. It took some courage to set herself against the Guilde in order to help Brother Benedict – more to actually come out at night to visit Markallen’s mother in secret. If she’d been a man, coming
from the house of Ross, she would have been a formidable adversary for Selar.