Magic in Ithkar (16 page)

This left her open and subject to the visions of those black eyes upon the black cloak. Her head swirled with passing shapes, with strange beasts in the section of the animal tenders, and with whispering conversations that she was too weak and ill to catch or to remember. She only hoped that Nadesh was young and strong enough to grasp and hold it all, as well as tending the stall.

On the third day, she was able to sit in her chair again, though she could embroider for a short time only. The images still wavered through her head, and now she realized that the whispers that had troubled her fevered state, as well as those that hissed through her deepest thought now, held treasonous things . . . and worse. The images she saw were filled with flickering torchlight, and though she turned her thought away, leaving the watching to Nadesh, she was drawn inexorably into one of those visions as she sat in her chair, needle in hand.

“Ahhh!” wailed Nadesh, though softly.

Esmene almost shrieked herself, for she was seeing Miralle, bound to a pillar, being slowly flayed. “Where!” she gasped to Nadesh. “Can you tell in which direction this abomination is taking place?”

Nadesh swung one hand vaguely outward, toward the outermost part of the fair, where the beasts were kept. Then her forehead furrowed, and Esmene knew that she was conveying the terrible vision to the temple.

Esmene felt herself falling, though she realized that she was still in her chair. Still, she was falling, as if into herself, down and down through whirlpools of darkness and dismay. And when the fall ended, the fair was gone. She was gone. Nothing remained except a grateful blackness.

When she woke, she knew instantly that time had elapsed. Perhaps a great deal of time. The air had held the fee! of late summer when that vision had seized her. Now it was steamy, and she could smell ripe melons, which were only available in earlier midsummer. Her body felt strange, thinner, and when she raised her hands to look at them, she could see blue veins through their white fragility. No needle pricks scarred her fingers. Weeks had gone by, she did not doubt.

She sighed, and someone she had not seen before rose from a stool beside her couch. “Lady? You are awake?” came a gentle whisper.

“Yes. Have I been ill?”

“I cannot answer that, precisely. I will call Andrell. She will explain to you.”

Esmene’s heavy eyelids closed again, and she moved away a bit—not altogether, as before, but to a place in which she could rest and keep watch simultaneously. The touch of a small, hard hand on her brow brought her to alertness again.

“So, you have consented to rejoin us. We have been troubled about you, daughter. But your weariness went deep, deep, and you needed to rest untroubled by your flesh. And while you rested, we gave you your reward.”

Esmene blinked. “Oh. The reward. I cannot think what it might be. I have enough coin for my needs. I have my son and my husband’s mother. I have Horthgan, if you can consider him worthy of mention. What could you give me as a reward?”

The gray-veiled head bowed, and the small hand swept aside the veiling, removing it entirely from the upper body of the woman who stood there. She was young. Unexpectedly, inexplicably young. The black eyes were still wells of energy, and the lips beneath them were smiling with childish delight.

“Firstly, let me inform you that your work with the scarf did its task exceedingly well. While we have not been able to uproot the worshippers of Thotharn, we have at least removed from activity the priest Esbre. He had sacrificed more than one to that enigmatic god. Miralle gave her life to bring him into our hands, and even now he is being . . . educated. From him we have learned of matters that will give us much aid in keeping watch over his kind. You earned that reward, Esmene.”

“But what? What reward?” The woman felt the itch of curiosity growing within her.

“Oh, you are
slow!”
teased Andrell. “Stretch yourself, lazy Esmene. Thrust your feet down, move your legs.
Feel!”

Startled, Esmene complied. And her long legs extended themselves, toes pointing, stretching. With no pain. Weakness, yes, as was fitting when one had lain abed for weeks. But no
pain!

“What . . . did you do?” she asked, moving herself about on the couch, testing out all the old problem spots. The grinding ache in her pelvis was gone. The sharp line of pain down her right hip to the foot. All of them had evaporated as she’d slept.

“The Three did, indeed, leave secrets for our use. In each generation, those chosen are trained to use them. Healing by means of opening the body and correcting matters within it was one of the most frightening of those, and yet by means of the techniques handed down to us from those far-traveling ones we have made many well who would have spent their lives in misery.”

Esmene pushed herself into a sitting position, though her head whirled for a moment once she was upright. “You have made me whole again? Able to climb the mountains as I teach my son to hunt game and to track predators? Able to share the work of the gardens? That is a reward for which I have no words to thank you.”

Andrell smiled, a bit sadly. “There are others who might benefit from our secrets, but they fear. You might have feared, also, if you had not been already unconscious. But now you can return home astride a horse instead of cooped in a stuffy litter. With Horthgan.” She looked closely at Esmene as she said this.

“Horthgan! That coward!”

The priestess laid her hand upon Esmene’s. “You have been bitter in your pain and helplessness. You lost a husband, the father of your child. Horthgan, through no fault of his, lost the one closest to him of any in all the world. We have examined the matter closely. Your man’s brother was not at fault. How can one blame him for being in another place when the cat attacked his twin? He came as fast as feet could bear him, and he came too late. Can you imagine how that has rankled in his spirit in all the years since?

“He has done his best for you and your son, and you have rewarded him with harsh words and harsher thoughts. He has borne them patiently. Now, Esmene, you no longer have the excuse of your pain. Look with the eyes of a sane woman upon your brother-in-law, and make him your friend. Your son needs him. Your mother-in-law loves him deeply, for he is her only living son. You have ignorantly created unhappiness for others, lost as you were in your own. Grow up, Esmene. It is time!”

The woman on the couch lay back against the cushions. A crease grew between her brows as she thought.

Then, “I have been unjust?” she asked. “The blame that I have heaped upon poor Horthgan did not belong to him? I have been hurting all those I love by my hardhearted attitude?”

Andrell nodded.

“I will grow up,” said Esmene. She stretched, once again, reveling in the free movements of her limbs against the smooth cloth of the couch. Her body, though light and weak, felt as if it might well become, once more, the strong instrument of her youth. She caught at Andrell’s hand as the priestess stood to leave.

“Thank you, Priestess. Convey my gratitude to those others who work with you. And to Nadesh.

“I will come again to Ithkar. And next fairing, I will bring with me my son, if you should care to see him. My needle is at your disposal, always and in all ways.”

Andrell looked down at her, her small face thoughtful, the black eyes sparkling. “I shall remember that, Esmene Haldornethe. I shall remember that indeed.” Then she was gone, and Esmene slid back into sleep that was no longer the blackness resembling death, but a living thing and full of growing strength.

I am of Quintka blood no matter my mother. Shame-shorn of skull, snow-pale of skin, her body crisscrossed by lash scarring, her leg torn by hound’s teeth, lying in a ditch, she bore me, to hide me in leaves before death came. The Calling was mine from the first breath I drew, as it is with all the Kin, and Lari, free ranging that day, heard, pawing me free, giving me the breast with her own current nurseling, before loping back to Garner himself to show her new cubling.

Quintka I plainly was by my wide yellow eyes and silver hair. Though my mother was of no race known to Garner, and he was a far-traveled man.

The Kin paid her full death honors, for it was plain she had fought for my life. Children are esteemed among the Kin, who breed thinly, for all our toughness of body and quickness of mind, gifts from Anthea, All Mother.

Thus did I foster with Kin and Second-Kin, close to Ort, Lari’s cubling. Though he was quicker to find his feet and forge for himself. However, I mind-spoke all the beast ones, and tongue-spoke the Kin; thus all accepted me fully.

Before I passed my sixth winter I had my own team of trained ones, Ort as my seconding. I was able to meet the high demands of Garner, for he accepted only the best performers.

Because I was able so young, the clan prospered. Those not of the blood seemed bemused that beasts such as Orzens and fal, and quare, clever after their own fashion, head-topping me by bulk of bodies, would obey me. Many a lord paid good silver to have us entertain.

Nor had we any fears while traveling, such as troubled merchant caravans that must hire bravos to their protection. For all men knew that the beasts who shared our covered wagons, or tramped the roads beside us were, in themselves, more formidable weapons than any men could hope to forge.

Once a year we came to Ithkar Fair—knowing that we would leave with well-filled pouches. For Garner’s shows were in high demand. Lords, even the high ones of the temple, competed in hiring us.

However, it was not alone for that profit we came. There were dealers who brought rare and sometimes unknown beasts—strange and fearsome, or beautiful and appealing— from the steppes of the far north or by ships plying strange seas. These we sought, adding to our clan so.

Some we could not touch with the Calling, for they had been so mishandled in their capture or transport as to retreat far behind fear and hate, where the silent speech could not reach. Those were a sorrow and despair to us all. Though we ofttimes bought them out of pity, we could not make them friends and comrades. Rather did we carry them away from all that meant hurt and horror and sung them into peace and rest forever. This also being one of the duties Anthea, All Mother, required of us.

I was in my seventeenth year, perhaps too young and too aware of my own powers, when we came that memorable time to Ithkar. There was no mandate laid upon me to mate—even though the Kin was needful of new blood—but there were two who watched me.

Feeta’s son by Garner—Wowern. Also there was Sim, who could bend any horse to his will, and whose riding was a marvel, as if youth and mount were of one flesh. Only to me my team was still the closer bond, and I felt no need to have it otherwise.

The fair-wards at the entrance hailed us as they might some lord, though we scattered no gold. From his high seat the wizard-of-the-gate, ready to make certain no dark magic entered, broke his grave mask with a smile, waved to Feeta, who also makes magic, but of a healing kind. Our weapons were few and Garner had them already sheathed and bundled, as well as the purse for our fee ready, so there was no waiting at the barrier.

We would pay a courtesy visit to the temple later, but, since we were not merchants dealing in good, we made only a silver offering. Now we pushed on into that section where there were beasts and hides, and all that had to do with living things. Our yearly place was ready for us—a fair-ward waiting, having kept that free for our coming. Him we knew, too, being Edgar, a man devoted to Feeta, who had cured his hound two seasons back. He tossed his staff in the air to pay us homage and called eager questions.

We all had our assigned tasks, so we moved with the speed of long practice, setting up the large tent for the showing, settling in our Second-Kin. They accepted that here they must keep to cages and picket lines, even though this was, in a manner, an insult to them. But they understood that outside the Kin they were not as clan brothers and sisters, but sometimes feared. I know that some, such as Ily, the mountain cat, and Somsa, the horned small dragon, were amused to play dangerous—giving shudders to those who came to view them.

I had finished my part of the communal tasks when Ort padded to me, squatting back on his powerful hindquarters, his taloned forepaws lightly clasped across his lighter belly fur. His domed head, with its upstanding crest of stiff, dark blue fur, was higher than mine when he reared thus.

“Sister-Kin ...” The thoughts of beasts do not form words, but in the mind one easily translates. “There is wrong here. ...”

I looked up quickly. His broad nostrils expanded, as if drawing in a scent that irked him. Our senses are less in many ways than those of the Second-Kin, and we learn early to depend upon what they can read by nose, eye, or ear.

“What wrong, Brother-Kin?”

Ort could not shrug as might one of my own species, but the impression of such a gesture reached me. There was as yet only simple uneasiness in his mind; he could not pin it to any source. Still I was alerted, knowing that if Ort had made such a judgment, others would also be searching. Their reports would come to those among the Kin with whom they felt the deepest bond.

The Calling we did not use except among ourselves and the Second-Kin—and that I dared not attempt now. But as I dressed for fairing, I tried to open myself to any fleeting impression. A vigorous combing fluffed out hair usually banded down, and I placed on midforehead the blue gem I had bought at this same fair last year, which adhered to one’s flesh, giving forth a subtle perfume.

Ort still companied me. Mai, Erlia, and Nadi, the other girls, were in and out of our side tent. But there was no light chatter among us. The tree cat, that rode as often as was possible on Nadi’s shoulder, switched its ringed tail back and forth, a sure sign of uneasiness, and Mai looked abstracted, as if she were listening to something afar. She was like Sim with horses, though also she had two Fos deer from the mountain valleys in her team.

It was Erlia who turned from the mirror to face the rest of us squarely.