Wrede, Patricia C - SSC (8 page)

"With all due respect, my
lord, asking the Earthwitch for help is no reasonable solution. She is—"

In the cavern, Mariel's hands
clenched into fists. Breathe in, breathe out; watch and listen now, study the
meaning later. When her attention returned to the vision, she found that she
had missed some of the red-cloaked man's argument.

"Nonsense," the
brown-haired man snapped. "She's an old woman, as human as you or I. But
she wields great power. If she can't stop the Dhainin with it, no one can. And
in case it hasn't occurred to you, let me point out that if the Earthwitch puts
an end to this invasion, we won't be indebted to Wirnor, which will make it a
good deal easier to strike a favorable trade bargain next year or the year after."

"The Earthwitch does not care
about such things. What if she refuses to help?"

"She won't refuse me."

The red-cloaked man looked
startled. "My lord! You're not thinking of going
yourself?
In person?''

"I'm not thinking of it, no.
I'm planning on it. And I'm going alone."

"My lord, you can't—"

"I can. I'll deal better with
her alone, and anyway, we can't spare the men for an escort."

There was a moment's silence. Then
the man in the red cloak bowed. "As you wish, my lord," he said with
disapproving reluctance. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning. I've left
instructions with Remin. You're in charge until I get back. If I don't come
back—" He shrugged. "You're still in charge."

"I? My lord—"

The image faded to blackness, and
the steamy sulfur smell of the vision cave rose strongly around her. Mariel
drew a ragged breath, then another, and forced her cramped fingers open. So
this was where the visions had been leading her! But was it to be her test, or
his?

As she calmed, she turned the
vision over in her mind. He had looked older—well, it had been fourteen years,
it was only to be expected—but he was still the Evan Rydingsword she
remembered, right down to the arrogant certainty in his tone and bearing when
he said, "She won't refuse me."

Anger swept Mariel at the memory.
Let him come and beg for her help. She
would
refuse. She would send him
away empty-handed, and it would be only what he deserved . . . The visions of
war and cruelty and death rose in her mind, and she stopped, considering. If
the earth magic had intended her to refuse her help, would she have been shown
all those other scenes? To help or not was not her choice, in any case. She
could invoke the earth magic; she was the channel through which it flowed, but
she did not wield it or control it. The earth did as it would. It was the first
and hardest lesson her mentor had taught her.

Feeling calmer, she rose and
started slowly back through the darkness. At least she knew he was coming; he
would not take her by surprise. Suddenly her eyes went wide. Could he have
discovered, somehow, that she was the Earthwitch now? Was that the reason for
his arrogant confidence? She caught her breath. Did he think to use her, or
perhaps even to take her back with him? And what would she do, if that was his
intention? Pulling free of him had been the hardest thing she had ever done,
harder even than learning to submit to the power of the earth. If he asked her
to return, could she look him in the eyes and refuse?

Her seven years of service here
were almost over. Soon a new man or woman would arrive, hoping to serve the
earth magic, or perhaps only hoping, as she had, to escape from the past. After
six months of training, she would hand over her office and leave
Firewell
Mountain
. Most of the former
Earthwitches went on to other kinds of service to the land and the people, as
healers or wisewomen. Mariel had thought to teach in the great school for
healers in Forralan, but if she were to go back with Evan instead . . . ?
Could
she go back?

Shaken and confused, she brushed
past the two apprentices waiting outside the deep caverns and made her way to
her apartments. Evan would not arrive for a few days yet. She had time to think
. . . but not much of it.

With the weary determination of one
who has no choice but to continue, Evan Rydingsword climbed the narrow trail on
the side of
Firewell
Mountain
.
The wind sang around him, pulling at his cloak and chilling him to the bone.
For a moment, he wondered whether he should have taken Corbin's advice and
brought an escort. Then he shook his head. Without companions, he did not have
the double burden of being exhausted and having to hide it. How long had it
been since he had slept more than a few hours at a stretch? He could not recall.

As he pulled himself around a sharp
bend in the trail, a figure moved out of the shadows. Automatically, his hand
went to his sword hilt. Then he saw that it was a girl, hardly more than
fourteen, dressed in a flowing brown robe.

"You have come to see the
Earthwitch," she said with a calm certainty that seemed unnatural in one
so young.

Evan blinked. "You are not the
Earthwitch," he stated after a moment.

"I am her student. When I
finish my training next year, I will be teacher and healer for my village. Now,
I am to take you to the Earthwitch. Come." Without waiting to see whether
he would follow, the girl turned and went lightly up the pathway.

Taking a deep breath, Evan
followed. A few moments later, the trail ended, three-quarters of the way up
the mountain. On the right, the rocks dropped to a dangerously sheer cliff. On
the left, a dark opening gaped in the mountainside. The swordsman eyed it
uncertainly, but the girl motioned to him to enter. Taking a deep breath, he
did as she bade him.

Three paces inside, he stopped to
allow his eyes to adjust. The cave was cool, and he could feel a dampness in
the air that must mean water somewhere farther in. The girl plucked a small
lamp from a niche beside the door and continued on with barely a pause; he had
to hurry to catch up with her. The lamplight flickered and bobbed with her
movements, making it hard to see, and he stumbled frequently on the uneven
stone. The girl did not seem to notice or care, and Evan began to grow angry.
Sternly, he reminded himself that he was here to ask for help, and forced his
irritation down.

Finally, the girl paused before an
iron door. "The Earthwitch awaits you," she said. "Enter, and do
what you have come for."

Evan nodded, in thanks or farewell,
he was not sure which, and opened the door. The cavern on the other side was
better lit than the passageways, and he could make out more of his
surroundings. In the center of the cavern, four columns like frozen rivers of
stone framed a raised dais. On either side of the dais stood a brazier of black
iron, filled with glowing coals. Behind them, half in shadow, sat a slender
figure in a hooded robe who could only be the ancient Earthwitch.

Stepping into the glow of light
from the braziers, Evan made a formal bow. "Lady, I thank you for your
kindness in seeing me."

The hooded figure rose, surprising
Evan with the grace of the movement. "You may thank me at the end of your
visit, if you still feel you have reason," said a low, musical voice.

Evan went cold. That was not the
voice of a crone, it was— He stood frozen in place as the woman stepped forward
and put a small hand up to her hood.

"Welcome to
Firewell
Mountain
, Evan Ryding-sword,"
said the Earthwitch, and put back the hood of her robe.

Her hair was still the color of sunlit
grain; her eyes the same clear, cold gray. Her face was more mature, but no
less beautiful. He stared, unbelieving, and reached out blindly in her
direction. "Mariel!" he whispered. "Oh, Mariel," and the
room spun about him and went dark.

Mariel stared down at the
unconscious man in dismay. Whatever she had expected from this confrontation,
it was not this. She shook herself and clapped her hands for her students.
"He has exhausted himself," she said when they appeared and exclaimed
in astonishment. "We will take him to the visitor's chamber. Then, Veryl,
you must make a broth, while Niza prepares the resting herbs."

The students nodded jerkily, eyes
wide. Working together, they got Evan onto the bed; then the two girls vanished
to follow Mariel's instructions, leaving her to watch over him.

In the clear, bright lamplight,
Mariel could see that her words were truer than she had realized. Evan's face
had a grayish cast beneath its tan, and the skin below his eyes was dark and
bruised looking. Close up, she could see that his mail hung more loosely than
it should have, and in several places the rings were broken or missing. He had
not come to such a state in a five-day journey to
Firewell
Mountain
. How had she missed seeing
it before?

Almost without her willing it, her
hand reached out to stroke his hair. She pulled it back before she touched him
and shook her head. "Still you are a danger to me, Evan," she
whispered, folding her hands tightly in her lap.

It seemed a very long time before
Veryl and Niza returned.

Evan Rydingsword awoke lying on a
hard, narrow bed. He tried to sit up, and a firm hand pushed him back.
"Drink," a young female voice said, and he swallowed something warm.
He shook his head and blinked at the figure above him. "Mariel?" he
said doubtfully.

"I am here," said a voice
from the shadows. She moved forward and nodded at the girl standing by Evan's
bedside. "That is enough, Veryl; you may go."

The girl nodded and left. Evan
barely noticed; he was staring at Mariel. She returned his gaze steadily.

"Where did you go?" he
said at last. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I could not stay, and
live."

His hand groped for his sword hilt.
"Who threatened you? By the gods, if he still lives—"

For a moment, Mariel stared at him.
Then she gave a brittle laugh. "No one threatened me, Evan. No one except you."

"I never threatened you!"

She shook her head. "You were
swallowing me whole, you and your desire to be king. I tried to explain then,
but you would not listen. Then you became king, and it was worse."

"I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to."

"I looked for you," he
said bitterly. "I searched for months." He reached for her hands.
"Mariel—"

She drew away, her face remote.
"I am the Earth-witch now."

"And I am a king without a
throne," Evan said. "Can we never be simply Evan and Mariel?"

"What brings you here?"
Mariel asked, avoiding his eyes.

Evan closed his own for a moment,
then looked up at her again. "The Dhainin."

She folded her hands in her lap.
"Tell me."

"They came two years ago, from
the southwest, raiding and burning. We drove them off, but they only returned
in greater numbers. They have taken Saraset and burned Kerr Hollaran to the
ground. I have fought them and lost, and fought again and lost again, until I
have nothing left to fight with, and still they come. You are the only hope I
have left."

"The Dhainin—"

"If we fight them, they seem
to multiply until they overwhelm us with sheer numbers," Evan said
wearily. "If we do not fight, they burn and slaughter anyway."

Mariel sucked in her breath. When
he looked up she was staring into the air above the bed, as if she saw the same
scenes of death and blood and burning that haunted his own dreams.
"Perhaps," she said at last, reluctantly. "Perhaps something can
be done. But there will be a price. There is always a price, even for
you." She looked at him, and her eyes were shadowed. "Especially for you."

"Once I could have given you
any treasure in the kingdom as your price." He looked at her. "Once,
I would have."

"Gold is no price for the
earth," she replied. "Birth and death, blood and healing, the slow
changing of seasons—these are the coin for the earth magic. Whose life will you
spend to buy your desire this time, king without a throne? A daughter? A son?
Who will pay the price of the earth magic for you, so that you may have the
victory and the kingdom when your war is over?"

Evan stiffened, stung by the
bitterness of the accusation. "I have no sons. Nor daughters. Nor wife.
All I can offer for the price of your magic is myself. And I am offering."
As the words left his mouth, he found, to his surprise, that he meant them.

She stared at him in silence for a
long time. Finally, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I am the king, throne
or no," he said. "The people look to me to save them from the
Dhainin, and while they wait, they die." His hands fists clenched in
sudden anger. "They will die until the Dhainin leave, and I cannot make
the Dhainin go."

"And that is all?"

"Isn't it enough? I have seen
too much death. I want an end to this, Mariel."

She studied his face warily, as if
she were not certain she believed him. Anger washed over him again, followed by
a great weariness. "Do not toy with me," he said. "Will you help
or no? Whatever I must do for it, I will."

"I, too, do what I must,"
she said, and he thought she sounded shaken. "I can promise you nothing.
Tomorrow I will consult the fire and water; then you shall have your
answer." Her raised hand cut off his protest. "Sleep now. You cannot
hurry the times of the earth, and whether you have my help or no, you are in
need of rest and food." She rose and vanished into the gloom of the cave.

Evan pushed himself up on one elbow
and peered after her. If she had been only Mariel, his Mariel, he would have
risen and followed her, but she was the Earthwitch now, and he did not quite
dare. He dropped back to the bed and grimaced. Not dare? He had barely strength
to hold himself up. To try to chase an unwilling woman through a dark maze of
caves ... he would not get three paces before he collapsed. He had kept moving
out of necessity and will for so long that he had not realized how tired he had
become. Mariel was right; he should sleep.