Call of Wizardry, page 3
“It did not need to lie,” Kalanath said. “Lying did not make it more powerful against us. I think it speaks truth.”
“And that solution makes sense,” Dianthe said. “What I’m concerned about is that we’ll need a chain to break as part of the ritual, and we don’t know if that has to be a particular chain the way the coming of age ritual needed a particular goblet and knife.”
“That’s something we could work out on the way,” Sienne said.
“We will not fly again, will we?” Perrin said, sounding almost plaintive.
“If Alaric would get his head out of his ass for half a breath, he’d see waiting a day for me to try to find transport is the smart thing to do,” Sienne said, feeling anger rush through her again at Alaric’s bullheadedness. “Have Perrin scry out a location, I’ll jaunt there and get enough of a sense of the place for transport…it would take us half an hour at most. Even the carpets aren’t that fast.”
No one spoke. Sienne didn’t need their words to know what they were all thinking: more than anything else, this plan depended on Alaric being willing to see sense. Finally, Dianthe said, “I think that’s the best we can do for tonight. We shouldn’t wait up for him, though. He’ll just feel attacked and won’t listen.”
“Do you need anything else, Leaf?” Sienne asked.
The Pekkanen shook her head. Sleep will be good, now I have found Alaric, she said. I have not slept well in many seasons.
“You should come upstairs. There’s an empty bed—it will be more comfortable than the floor.”
Leaf stood, her legs shaking. Perrin lifted her into his arms. “Does she mind being carried?” he asked Sienne. “Perhaps I should have ascertained this before picking her up.”
Having established that Leaf didn’t mind being carried, Sienne led the way up the stairs and supervised Leaf’s installment on Alaric’s old bed. The Pekkanen was asleep almost before Sienne pulled the door to without latching it.
She trudged to her own room. Dianthe stopped her when her hand was on the knob. “It will be all right,” she said, hugging Sienne. “He’s not stupid. He’ll be back.”
Sienne nodded. Now that her anger had passed, she felt cold inside, and as empty as if her shouting had hollowed her out. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. They’d never spoken so harshly to each other before. He’d never physically threatened her before—all right, he hadn’t threatened her, but his verbal aggression had felt like a blow to the face. A few tears dripped onto her hands, and she wiped them away. She hated fighting with him, even when she was in the right. Maybe she hated it more when she was in the right, because she never knew what to say.
She undressed and put her clothes away, folding them neatly into the clothespress. Her eye fell on her dancing dress, hanging on a peg on the wall. The sight made more tears fall. Suppose he ran off and was killed? It was stupid to think of how that meant no more dancing, it was so frivolous, but the only reason he danced was because he loved her, and that reminder was too much for her bruised heart to bear. She sat on the bed in her nightdress and wept silently until she ran out of tears, then dried her face and waited for him to return.
She nodded off twice and nearly fell off the bed, but she couldn’t bear to sleep before he returned. If he returned. To stay awake, she read some of the book she’d borrowed from a shelf downstairs. It was boring, but it gave her mind something to do that wasn’t dwelling on Alaric and the awful things he’d said.
She’d almost given in to despair and gone to sleep anyway when she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Fear and misery shot through her like a force bolt to the chest, electrifying her blood and waking her fully. Would he even come to her? The last time they’d fought, he’d gone to his old room rather than face her. This time, she didn’t think she could bear to confront him. Of course, Leaf was in his old room, so maybe he wouldn’t want to disturb the Pekkanen. Or maybe he wouldn’t care; maybe he meant to sleep on the small, cramped bed alone.
The door opened. “You’re awake,” Alaric said. He shut the door behind him and stood looking at her, his face impassive.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she lied. “I didn’t want to go to bed after…you know. Fighting.”
Alaric sighed and ran a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. “There’s nothing more to say. I’m not going to change my mind.”
She felt tears come to her eyes again and blinked them away. She’d sworn never to manipulate him with tears. “We talked about it after you left,” she said. “Alaric, we want to help. We just don’t want to do it in a way that will get us all killed.”
“I’ve led this team for over a year,” Alaric said. “I’ve kept everyone alive all that time. Why have you suddenly lost faith in me?”
His eyes looked hollow and bruised, and for the first time since she’d known him, she saw doubt there. “Why have you suddenly stopped caring what we think?” she shot back. “This team isn’t you telling us what to do, it’s all of us working together to achieve something. How dare you suggest we don’t care about your quest after everything we’ve done to accomplish it?”
Alaric closed his eyes and bowed his head, the very image of a man praying for strength. “I trust you all,” he said, “but you don’t understand. All this time, Gen’s been the one I thought of when I imagined my people being free. She helped me escape—helped me plan for this future. I can’t let her down, Sienne. I won’t be able to live with myself if she dies when I had a chance of stopping it.”
“Then let us help you,” Sienne exclaimed. “We want to do this the right way—the way that means nobody has to die needlessly. Give me time to find transport, at least, and maybe some other spells that will let me face the wizard on equal terms. As equal as we can manage, anyway.” She drew in a deep breath. “But if you can’t do that…I’m going to Ansorja with you in the morning.”
His eyes flew open. “What happened to all that talk about certain death?”
Sienne rose and took a few steps toward him until she was close enough she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “I love you,” she said, “and I couldn’t bear it if you died alone. So I’m going with you.”
He was silent for a moment, his blue eyes fierce on hers. Then he gathered her into his arms and held her close, as tenderly as if she might break. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.”
She put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. “You scared me,” she said, and felt him tense.
“I know,” he said. “I saw you flinch, and I was so angry I didn’t care. Not until later, when I came to my senses… I should never have done that. I was so afraid you’d hate me for it.”
“I don’t hate you. And I was angry, too. I’m sorry.”
He let out a low chuckle. “We were hard on each other, for two people in love.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t think I’ve let my emotions get the better of my common sense in years. I’d forgotten how it feels to be so out of control.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“We were all more afraid for you than angry. So yes, I understand.”
Alaric let out a deep sigh. “I am more blessed in my friends than I deserve.” He released her and began taking off his clothes. “Let’s go to bed. I want to hold you while you sleep and be grateful you still want me to.”
Sienne’s heart felt lighter than air. “I will always want you to hold me. Always.”
They snuggled together in the big bed, with Alaric’s breath tickling the back of Sienne’s neck. “I love you,” she whispered. “I hate it when we fight.”
“You always say that, sweetlove,” Alaric murmured.
“Because it’s always true. I’m afraid someday we’ll say things we can’t come back from.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Alaric said. “It’s not in your nature to be so cruel, and I watch my tongue because I live in fear you’re going to wake up one day and realize you’d be better off with someone else.”
She rolled over to face him. “Are you serious?”
“Partly serious. Different races, different social classes…by all logic, you and I should not be together. Every day you’re with me feels like a miracle.”
His candor made a shiver run through her. She put her arms around his neck and drew him close. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Alaric said, and brushed her lips with a kiss.
3
Dianthe, Kalanath, and Perrin were at the breakfast table when Sienne and Alaric descended the next morning. “I want to apologize,” Alaric said before anyone could speak. “I let my emotions get the better of me, and I was stupid. I’m sorry for how I behaved.”
“Thank Kitane you’re still here,” Dianthe said. “We were worried you might actually leave without us.”
“We understand your feelings,” Perrin added. “And we have discussed more possibilities, if you are willing to listen.”
“I’d say ‘of course I am,’ but after last night nobody believes that’s a given,” Alaric said. He helped himself to sausage and a few slabs of ham, nodding to Leofus, who regarded him warily. Sienne wondered how this all sounded to the cook, who hadn’t been present for the big blowup. She scooped porridge into a bowl, added a lump of sugar, and took her seat next to Alaric.
Perrin took a long drink from his coffee cup and sighed in pleasure. “We have some questions,” he said. “We have deduced that the wizard’s information on what happens in his valley comes from his Sassaven eyes. What we do not know is the nature of the binding. Are the Sassaven compelled to go to the wizard with information immediately as they gain it, or must they only share that information when directly asked?”
“Mostly the latter,” Alaric said. “We try to stay out of the wizard’s way because he tends to forget things that aren’t either directly in front of him or a current part of his breeding program. Most Sassaven won’t volunteer information—it’s the only way they have to defy his control. But there are a few who are scared, or want to curry favor, and they will immediately tell the wizard anything they think he needs to know. And then there are the Niskanen. You’d call them enforcers if the binding didn’t make it so there’s nothing to enforce. They keep the peace between Sassaven and take the wizard’s orders throughout the valley. They speak with his voice. I was afraid of them as a child because so many of them enjoy the power they wield over the rest of us. They’re the ones who bring word when a Sassaven has been chosen for the breeding project, the bastards.”
“Leaf said your brother Karlen was one of them,” Sienne said.
Alaric grimaced. “I wish I could say that surprised me. Karlen loves telling people what to do, not because he’s a bossy prig—though he’s that, too—but because he believes rules make people safer. It made growing up with him unbearable, especially since for most of my life I was a lot smaller than him and he could force me to obey or eat dirt.”
“I am trying to picture you small enough to be overwhelmed,” Perrin said with a grin.
“Heh. I remember the day I finally overtopped him,” Alaric said, grinning back. “I was fourteen and I’m afraid I goaded him into a fight I knew I could win. Before that I was short and chubby.”
“That, I can’t imagine,” Sienne murmured.
“At any rate, we’ll have to worry about the Niskanen, because most of them think like Karlen, and we can’t tell which ones might be sympathetic to us just by looking.” Alaric bit into a sausage and chewed as fiercely as if he could defeat Karlen that way.
“I can probably keep us hidden, if I know the terrain,” Dianthe said, “and Perrin can scry out the valley and show us what places to avoid.”
“That will be easy enough, provided Averran is on our side—and I believe he is,” Perrin said.
“And if you can’t remember, I might be able to work out the walkstone,” Sienne said. “If I know what an artifact does, figuring out how to operate it becomes a lot easier. But if I can’t guarantee that, I can think of a few other ways we can enter the tower. At worst, I cast float and we climb up its outside.”
“Let’s hope we can use the walkstone,” Alaric said. “So, that gets us through the valley and into the tower. It occurred to me that Sienne could knock the wizard out with force and subdue him that way.”
“We thought of that, too,” Dianthe said. “And we can perform the unbinding ritual, so long as we have the right chain.”
“It was always the same chain when he bound a Sassaven,” Alaric said. “I don’t think there was anything special about it. But the important thing is that it will be in the tower, so when we need it, it will be on hand.”
“That brings us to reversing what he did to Genneva,” Sienne said.
Everyone fell silent. Alaric looked like he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say. Sienne cleared her throat. “There’s only one way to compel someone to do what they don’t want to do.”
Alaric’s head came up. “You mean dominate. Sienne, you can’t do that.”
“I know it’s a long shot, but if I can find it—”
“I mean you shouldn’t do that. Just because the wizard is evil doesn’t mean we should stoop to evil in return. Dominate is…I don’t want to talk about it.” His face was paler than usual, and he held his fork halfway to his lips as if he’d forgotten it was there.
“If it will save Genneva, I’m willing,” Sienne said.
Slowly Alaric set down his fork. “You,” he said, then seemed to run out of words. Eventually, he said, “I’m not deserving of friends like you.”
“We do not deserve each other,” Kalanath said, “but it is not about deserve. It is the gift we give. And receive.”
“Wisely put,” Perrin said. He poured himself another cup of coffee. “I do not think we should depend on dominate. However, Sienne should meet with Carys Bettega today.”
Sienne held her breath, waiting for Alaric to repeat his insistence on leaving immediately. But he said only, “That makes sense. Sienne, when will you go?”
“In an hour, when the day isn’t quite so new.” Sienne scraped the last of her porridge out of the bowl. “I hope she’ll see me without advance warning. I didn’t have time to ask for an appointment.”
“You’re sure you don’t want us to come along?” Dianthe said.
Sienne nodded. “The rest of you can plan for the journey. Even if I get transport, that’s less effective for wilderness locations because…it’s hard to explain. My teachers said you need a unique location to transport to, and trees and valleys all look alike on the level transport operates on, so cities are easier. Anyway, that means I’ll only be able to get us as far as Esthold, and we’ll need to go overland from there. So we’ll need Ansorjan coin to buy supplies.”
“Let us worry about that,” Alaric said. “You worry about being so charming this Bettega woman will open her spellbook and let you dive right in.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Sienne said with a laugh.
The Aquila district was a study in contrasts, its old, somewhat decrepit houses at odds with the well-scrubbed streets and newly installed drains. Some construction indicated at least a few of the owners were interested in bringing their homes up to date, but for the most part the buildings, three or four stories tall and only one or two rooms across, had the comfortable, lived-in look that characterized an old, established neighborhood. Most of the houses had hanging plants in pottery bowls next to their doors, ivy or petunias or geraniums, giving the plain tan bricks splashes of color. It wasn’t as pretty as Master Tersus’s neighborhood, but it had its own kind of charm.
Sienne strolled down the street with her spellbook clutched firmly under one arm. She wasn’t worried about theft, but she superstitiously feared she might set it down and walk away without thinking about it now that she didn’t technically need it. Children raced past her, chasing a ball and shouting at each other. What would that be like, growing up with virtually no supervision? And yet they had parents, or someone, who looked out for them and made sure they were clothed and fed. Someone who provided the ball, for that matter. She knew better than to romanticize their childhood, but she couldn’t help wondering how her life would have been different if she hadn’t been born Sienne Verannus.
Carys Bettega’s home was another one of the identical tan brick buildings in a row near the end of the street. The façades had been unified sometime in the last five years so the row presented a solid front, with no divisions between the individual houses. All the doors were painted the same color, a dull green that managed to clash with the bricks, but the small four-paned windows in the upper stories were blotches of random color from their curtains and gave the buildings more of an individualistic feeling.
Sienne trod the three steps up to number five’s door and rapped on it. People passing stared at her as if she’d done something outrageous by putting herself even those three short steps above the paving stones. She smiled pleasantly at them, and they turned away.
A key turned in the lock, and the door eased open. A boy perhaps ten years younger than Sienne said, “Are you here to see Grandmama?”
“My name is Sienne Verannus. I was wondering if Mistress Bettega might give me a moment of her time?” She knew she sounded overly formal, but it wouldn’t hurt to come across as a serious student of magic.
The boy’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. “Verannus? The duke?”
“Yes. I don’t mean to intrude, but I—”
“It’s no intrusion.” The boy opened the door wider. “I’m Milo Bettega. Please, come in…I’m sorry, I forgot your name already. I mean, I remember the Verannus part, of course I remember that, the duke’s daughter—”
“I’m Sienne. Thanks.”
The narrow corridor beyond the door wasn’t wide enough for both of them to walk side by side. Sienne trailed along behind Milo and admired the portraits on the walls. Most of them showed a strong family resemblance to Milo, though they were in a bland enough style that even though the clothing styles changed, she couldn’t be sure if the woman she kept seeing was Milo’s mother, or grandmother, or aunt, or even older cousin.
