— 41 —

Arkoniel didn’t realize how comfortable he’d grown until the false peace they’d enjoyed was shattered. He’d been working with the children in the simples garden, harvesting the last of the season’s herbs. There would be a full moon that night and he expected a frost. Suddenly a little point of light appeared a few feet from his nose. Wythrin and the others watched apprehensively as Arkoniel touched a finger to the message sphere. He felt the tingle of Lyan’s excitement as the light disappeared and he heard her excited voice saying, “Hide at once! A herald is coming.”

“Come, children, into the woods,” he ordered. “Bring your tools and baskets. Hurry now!”

As soon as they were safely hidden in a thicket, he summoned a message spell of his own and sent it speeding to Eyoli in the workroom.

“Are the Harriers coming to get us?” Totmus whimpered, crouched close beside him. The others clung to Ethni and she hugged them close, but she was just as frightened.

“No, just a messenger. But we’ve got to be very quiet, all the same. Eyoli will come get us when it’s safe.”

A rider came up the hill at a gallop, and they heard the hollow report of hooves across the bridge. Arkoniel wondered if Nari would offer the rider the customary hospitality—a meal and a night’s lodging. He didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping under the stars that night. As if to underscore the thought, Totmus clapped his hands across his mouth to stifle a cough. Despite good food and Nari’s care, he was still a pallid, sickly child and was showing signs of an autumn cold.

The sun crawled down the sky and the shadows cooled around them. The stars were pricking the purple sky when they heard the rider again. Arkoniel heaved a sigh of relief as the sound faded away on the Alestun road but still waited for Eyoli’s point of light to tell them it was safe to come back.

Nari and Catilan met him in the hall. The other wizards were still hiding upstairs.

“It’s from Tobin.” Nari told him, handing him a parchment scroll bearing the Atyion seal.

Arkoniel’s heart sank as he read it, though the message was jubilant: the Companions were home, the royal progress had been a success, and the king had granted Tobin permission to celebrate his birthday with a few weeks of hunting at his old home. Soon wagonloads of servants and provisions would be rumbling up the road to begin preparations.

“I suppose it had to happen, sooner or later.” Nari sighed. “This is still his home, after all. But how in the world can we hide everyone with a pack of hunters racketing about the place?”

“It’s no good sending them into the forest,” said Catilan. “Someone is bound to stumble across any camp we make there.”

“And what about you, Arkoniel?” added Nari. “What are we going to do with you? Not to mention the extra beds set up. And the gardens!”

Arkoniel tucked the letter away. “Well, General, what do you suggest?”

“The house is easily set to rights. The beds will be needed and the garden can be explained. But the rest of you will have to go away someplace,” Catilan replied. “The question is, where? Winter’s coming on fast.” She drew Totmus to her side and gave Arkoniel a meaningful look. “There’ll be snow on the ground soon.”

Eyoli had been listening from the stairs and came down to join them. “We can’t travel in a group, like wandering players. Others have tried that. The Harriers make a point of stopping any they meet on the road claiming to be actors and the like. We’ll have to scatter.”

“No!” said Arkoniel. “Nari, you see to the children. Eyoli, come with me.”

The older wizards were waiting anxiously for him in the workroom. Arkoniel had hardly finished explaining the situation before they erupted in panic, all talking at once. Melissandra bolted for the door, calling for Dara to pack, and Hain rose to follow. Malkanus was already planning defenses for the road. Even the older ones looked ready to run.

“Listen to me, please!” Arkoniel cried. “Melissandra, Hain, come back.”

When they ignored him, he muttered a spell Lhel had taught him and clapped his hands. A peal of thunder shook the room, startling the others to silence.

“Have you forgotten already why you’re here?” he demanded. “Look around you.” His heart beat faster as the words poured out. “The Third Orëska Iya talks of isn’t some far-off dream. It’s here. Now. In this room. We are the Third Orëska, the first fruits of her vision. The Lightbearer brought us together. Whatever purpose there may be in that, we can’t scatter now.”

“He’s right,” said Eyoli. “Mistress Virishan always said our safety lay in unity. Those children downstairs? They wouldn’t be alive now except for her. If we stay together, then perhaps we can stand against the Harriers. I know I can’t do it alone.”

“None of us can,” old Vornus agreed, looking grim.

“I managed well enough,” Kaulin retorted, dour as ever.

“By running away. And you came here,” Arkoniel reminded him.

“I came only for safety, not to lose my freedom!”

“Would you rather wear one of their silver badges?” Cerana demanded. “How free will you be once the Harriers number you and write your name in their book? I’ll fight for your queen, Arkoniel, but more than that, I want to drive those white-robed monsters out. Why does Illior allow such a travesty?”

“Perhaps we’re proof that the Lightbearer does not,” Malkanus offered, leaning against the wall by the window.

Arkoniel looked at him in surprise. The other man shrugged, fingering the fine silk embroidery on his sleeve. “I saw the vision and believed. I’ll fight, if need be. I say we stay together.”

“So we stay together,” said Lyan. “But we can’t stay here.”

“We could go deeper into the mountains,” Kaulin said. “I’ve been quite a ways up. There’s game enough, if any of you know how to earn your food.”

“But for how long?” asked Melissandra. “And what about the children? The higher we go, the sooner the winter will find us.”

“Lyan, can you send one of your message lights to Iya?”

“Not without knowing something of where she is. It must be directed.”

“All right, then. We make our own way. We’ll pack the wagon and your horses with all the supplies they can carry, and see where the road takes us. Be ready by dawn.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start.

Nari and the servants took charge of provisioning. With the help of the men, Arkoniel moved his meager belongings back up to his abandoned bedchamber on the third floor. When they’d finished he sent them to help in the kitchen yard, and found himself alone upstairs for the first time in months. Gooseflesh prickled up his arms. It was already dark.

He packed hurriedly, throwing a few days’ clothing into a pack. He wouldn’t be gone long; as soon as he had the others settled somewhere, he’d come back and try to speak with the boys. He tried not to think of the locked door down the corridor, yet all the while he had the growing sense that Ariani was watching him.

“This is for your child. All for her,” he whispered. Grabbing up the lopsided pack, he was halfway to the stairs when he realized he’d forgotten the bag containing the bowl. It had been months since he’d thought about that, too.

Turning slowly, he searched the darkness beyond his lamp. Was that a white shape hovering by the tower door, or just a trick of the light? With an effort, he started back for the workroom. The air against his face grew colder with every step, but he couldn’t run away. Not without the bowl.

He dashed to the table and snagged the dusty leather bag from its hiding place underneath. Shoving it into the pack, he looked around fearfully, expecting any moment to see Ariani’s blood-streaked face in the shadows. But there was no sign of her, only the chill, and perhaps that was just the night breeze through the shutters. With shaking hands, he added a few more simples and a jar of firechips to his collection.

He was halfway down the corridor again when another realization halted him in his tracks.

In a few days’ time this house would be filled with young nobles, huntsmen, and servants. Every room would be needed.

“Bilairy’s balls!” Dropping the pack at the top of the stairs, he drew out his wand and hurried back to his rooms.

Obscuration was not difficult magic, but it took time and concentration. By the time he’d hidden the doors to his chambers, making them appear to be bricked up, he was shaking and drenched with sweat. That still left two guest chambers on the other side of the corridor in use.

Only then did he realize he’d forgotten about the windows, which were visible from the road. With a snarl of frustration he swept aside the carefully crafted spells and began again, this time creating the illusion that there had been a fire; from outside people would see blackened stonework around the windows and charred shutters. As he obscured the last doorway again his lamp guttered out and he heard an unmistakable sigh.

Ariani was standing by the tower door, bright as a candle in the darkness. Water and blood streamed from her black hair, soaking the front of her gown and pooling on the floor around her feet. Silent as smoke, she glided to the workroom door, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other held at a strange angle against her side, as if she were carrying something. She stared at the illusion for a long moment, looking lost and confused.

“I’m protecting your child,” he told her.

She held him with her eyes a moment, then faded away without a word.

Arkoniel hadn’t expected to sleep that night, but he fell into a restless doze the second he lay down across the unmade bed in Tobin’s room, and dreamed of riders hunting him through the forest, led by Ariani’s ghost.

The touch of a cold hand on his brow brought him awake with a strangled cry. It was no dream; a hand was touching him. Flailing wildly, he tumbled off the wrong side the bed and found himself wedged helplessly between the mattress and the wall.

A woman stood on the other side of the bed, silhouetted against the light spilling in at the open window. Ariani had followed him here. His flesh crawled at the thought of her touching him as he slept.

“Arkoniel?”

That wasn’t Ariani’s voice.

“Lhel?” He heard a soft chuckle, then felt the mattress shift as she sat down. “By the Four!” Scrambling across the bed, he hugged her, then rested his head in her lap. Deer tooth beads pressed into his cheek. Dark against darkness, Lhel stroked his hair.

“Did you miss me, little man?”

Embarrassed, he sat up and pulled her close, burying his fingers in her coarse black curls. There were dead leaves and twigs tangled there, and the taste of salt on her lips. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?”

“The Mother sent me over the mountains to a place my people once lived. It’s only a few days’ journey from here. Tomorrow I’ll guide your wizards there. You must go quickly, though, and make what houses you can before the snows come.”

Arkoniel pulled back a little, trying to make out her face. “Your goddess brought you back today, just when I most needed you?”

When she said nothing, he guessed she’d been back for some time. Before he could press the matter, however, she surprised him by shoving him back on the bed and kissing him hungrily. Fire shot through his belly as she climbed on top of him, lifting her skirt and fumbling at the front of his tunic. He felt rough wool against his belly, then warm skin. It was the first time she’d ever offered sex inside the keep and she was as desperate for it as he was. Holding his hands against her breasts, she rode him wildly, then lurched forward to smother their cries as they came. Lightning flashed behind Arkoniel’s closed eyelids as he thrashed and moaned under her, then the world exploded into red light.

When his mind cleared, she was lying beside him, cupping his balls in one hot, wet hand.

“Your pack is too small for the journey,” she murmured.

“It was full enough until you emptied it for me,” he chuckled, thinking it some joking slight against his manhood.

She rose on one elbow and traced his lips with one finger. “No, your traveling pack. You’ll be no good to Tobin dead. You must go with the others and stay away.”

“But you’re here now! You could take them to your oak and hide them there.”

“Too many, and too many strangers coming, perhaps with wizards who have enough sight to see through my magic.”

“But I want to see the boys again. Teach me how you hid yourself for so long!” He grasped her hand and kissed her rough palm. “Please, Lhel. I ask in the name of the Mother—”

Lhel snatched her hand away and slid off the bed. He couldn’t see her face as she pulled her clothes back into place, but he could feel her anger.

“What is it? What did I say?”

“You have no right!” she hissed. She crossed the room to retrieve her discarded shawl and the moonlight fell across her face, turning it into an ugly mask. The pallid light filled every crease and wrinkle with shadow and robbed her hair of color. The symbols of power blazed on her face and breasts, stark as ink on alabaster. The lover of a moment ago stood before him as he’d never seen her before—a vengeful hag.

Arkoniel shrank back; this was the side of her Iya had tried so often to warn him of. Before he could stop himself, he’d raised a hand in a warding sign against her.

Lhel froze, eyes lost in shadowed sockets, but the harsh mask softened to sorrow. “Against me you make that sign?” She came back to the bed and sat down. “You must never call on my goddess. She does not forgive what your people and your Orëska did to us.”

“Then why did she have you help us at all?”

Lhel passed her hands over her face, smoothing away the symbols from her skin. “It is the will of the Mother that I helped you, and Her will that I stayed to care for the unquiet spirit we made that night. All those long lonely days I pondered the mystery of that. And then, when you came to me and were willing to become my pupil—” She sighed. “If the Mother did not favor it, you would not have learned so much from me, so easily.” She took his hand and her fingers found the shiny stump of his severed finger. “You cannot make a baby for me with your seed, but your magic and mine made something new. Perhaps one day, our people will create more together, but we still follow different gods. Your Illior is not my Mother, no matter how you try to tell yourself it is so. Be true to your own gods, my friend, and have a care not to offend those of others.”

“I meant no—”

She brushed his mouth with cold fingertips. “No, you meant to sway me by invoking Her name. Don’t ever do that again. As for the other wizards here, they won’t be pleased to see me. You recall our first meeting? Your fear and repugnance, and how you called me little trickster’ in your mind?”

Arkoniel nodded, ashamed. He and Iya had treated Lhel like some lowly tradesman, offering no respect even after she’d done all they’d asked.

“I will not win them as I did you.” Lhel ran a finger playfully down his belly to the thatch of hair below. “Just see to it that the strong ones don’t attack me.” She pulled back a little, looking hard into his eyes. “For their sake, yes?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I wonder what Tobin and Ki will think, not finding-me here?”

“They’re smart boys. They’ll guess.” She thought a moment. “Leave that mind clouder.”

“Eyoli?”

“Yes. He’s very clever, and can keep himself unnoticed. Who will think twice about a stableboy? If Tobin needs us, he can send word.” She stood again. “Look for me along the road tomorrow. Bring as many supplies as you can carry. And more clothes. You will listen to me, won’t you, and stay away? There’s nothing to be gained by going back.”

Before he could answer she was gone, fading into the darkness as swiftly as a ghost. Perhaps one day she would teach him that trick, too.

There was no hope of sleep now. Going down to the kitchen yard, he checked the supplies in the wagon again, counting blankets, coils of rope, and sacks of flour, salt, and apples. Thank the Light the king had appointed no steward or Royal Protector here. Wandering through the yards, he gathered every tool he could find—handsaws, hammers, two rusted axes left behind in the barracks, a small anvil he found at the back of the farriers’ shop. He felt better, doing something useful, and all the while he felt the growing conviction that a corner of some sort had been turned. After years of wandering with Iya, here he was with a handful of fugitive wizards and a cart—his new Orëska.

It was a humble beginning, he thought, but a beginning all the same.