A Turn of Light (92 page)

This time, without a word, the two stood close behind the curtain. Even now, Peggs had a distracted, thoughtful look. Her sole response thus far to hearing the sum of Jenn’s dreadful secrets had been to agree Hettie would appreciate the dish towels. Jenn knew her sister. Faced with a problem she intended to solve, Peggs Nalynn would say nothing until she had a plan.

Though it seemed unlikely she’d find one this time, Jenn was obscurely comforted to see her so-wise sister chewing a lock of hair.

She wasn’t by what she heard.

“My anxious colleague and I,” the dema was saying, “share a curiosity about magic. I won’t bore you with how the old ways became the roots of Ansnan philosophy and today’s modern and more reasoned intercourse with the Celestials . . . unless you’ve an interest?”

“I studied,” Aunt Sybb demurred, raising her nieces’ eyebrows. “By magic, I assume you refer to the pagan Rites of Petition—what we’d call wishing.”

“Oh-ho!” From the sound, the dema slapped his thighs. “See, Urcet? No need to obscure our intentions. Indeed, good lady, we are on a wondrous quest, with such a rite to cast. Will it work? Will it not? Only a valiant effort can answer. The place must be right. The time. You’re familiar with what ancient Ansnans believed of an eclipse?”

“That the sun hides earthly sin from the Celestials, allowing it to flourish by day. Whenever the Celestials fear for the souls of the faithful, they push the moon in front of the sun so they may look down from the sky instead. Tea?” A pause. Jenn could picture their aunt’s graceful, dignified hands lifting the pot and pouring. “Much like checking on errant children, wouldn’t you say?”

Urcet laughed.

The dema sounded a little less happy. “More than look down, good lady. An eclipse was when the Celestials opened their gate for those pure of soul, so they would live forever in paradise.”

“There, Urcet, our faiths part company,” Aunt Sybb commented dryly. “All of us, pure or not, await the end of life in the sure comfort of becoming Blessed Ancestors to those who follow.”

“To check on them, like errant children,” the Eld echoed and laughed again. “We Eldani have no commerce with stars or our dead. Though my mother would warn me that if I skipped a lesson, the house grini would bite off my nose while I slept.”

A nose intact and adorned with a gold bead. Fascinated, Jenn wondered if there was a connection. Not that it mattered. This rite of the dema’s? The time and place for it could only be the eclipse, atop the Spine. But these tears they were to collect? It was all she could do not to wish the dema to the point.

“As an astronomer, I view such beliefs as allegorical. Stars cannot touch the ground or order the moon.” The dema grew cheerful again. “Everyone knows the Celestials witness and judge our lives from their lofty place in the sky.”

“You’ve come to be judged, then, Dema Qimirpik.”

“Me?” His astonishment seemed sincere. “I attempt pure intention, good lady, with all goodwill, but a pure soul? A lifetime of discipline and penance is no surety of that. No, as my deeds are witnessed, let me be so measured.” A hesitation, then, “Though I confess to you, the great Refuge of the demas was built for that purpose, long ago. Those who lived therein sought nothing else than paradise.”

“And settled for nothing less,” Urcet said lightly.

“What do you mean?”

Jenn looked at Peggs, who gave a tense nod. Was this it?

The dema coughed. “Stories, of course, grow in the telling. Stories of blame for disgraceful deeds can be trusted the least. Still, those from that time have common threads. All agree the demas of the Refuge came to believe themselves pure and grew impatient for paradise. Seventy-one years ago, yes, there was an eclipse like the one we anticipate. So much is fact, is it not, Urcet? According to story, these demas gathered in the highest of their towers and, waiting until the moon hid the sun, and in view of the Celestials, cast a Rite of Petition to force open the gate to paradise.”

They’d tried to cross into the Verge, Jenn thought with sudden fierce joy. They’d had a way to do it. A way these men might possess. Bannan had hoped for a wishing and here it was. Words and tokens both. Hers for the taking.

So Peggs wouldn’t read that determination in her face, Jenn turned back to the curtain.

“Predictably, the endings are the same. The Celestials, enraged by the arrogance of these demas, did stretch forth a Hand to wipe the Refuge from the earth.” Qimirpik chuckled.

Peggs touched her hand, her face pale. She shook her head in mute warning and Jenn gave a nod to show she understood. Something terrible had happened that first time. Kydd had guessed. Wyll had known. It mustn’t happen again.

But it wouldn’t, if she took charge. She’d be careful.

“A cautionary tale indeed,” Urcet said dryly. “We hadn’t expected to find its inspiration the instant we saw Marrowdell.”

“How so?” Aunt Sybb asked rather grimly.

“The Celestials’ pale and mighty Hand grips the valley to this day.” Qimirpik’s chuckle became a boisterous laugh. “Good lady, your face. Oh, please don’t think us mad. What you call the Bone Hills, and name the Fingers and Spine. Unusual rock, yes, doubtless exposed by a quaking of the earth. But to those consumed with guilt and remorse, who saw their world crumbling around them? I think you’ll agree they could seem the stuff of stars, come alive.”

She didn’t know about stars, but the Bone Hills? Jenn’s heart pounded. She’d looked within and seen something there. They’d crowded her in the carrots, which she’d hoped a dream until one forced itself into the Nalynn loft. That, she was unhappily sure, had been real, however strange. Did that make them alive?

She certainly hoped not. From Peggs’ tight lips, she felt the same.

From the parlor came an unusual clatter, as though someone dropped a fork.

“Your pardon, good lady,” the dema said with instant remorse. “I don’t mean to upset you.”

Aunt Sybb didn’t drop things. Peggs and Jenn exchanged worried looks, but before either could move, there came a controlled and firm, “A fanciful interpretation indeed. Urcet, you’ve not eaten. Would biscuits and honey be more to your taste?”

While their aunt disapproved of eavesdropping, she did expect such hospitable suggestions to be overheard. So at Urcet’s murmured thanks, Peggs hurriedly put biscuits on the stove to warm, paused to rattle dishes, then returned to the curtain.

The dema continued. “The surviving demas and odemi scattered to the far corners of Ansnor, to live out their lives in disgrace. Mondir, the holy city that supplied the Refuge, was abandoned to—forgive me, good lady—abandoned to the heretics of Rhoth. Given the times, you understand, their wild tale was given credence it wouldn’t find today.”

“Yet here you are,” Aunt Sybb said, pouncing like a toad on a mouse, “with a rite of your own.”

“The tales have their basis in truth,” Urcet said impatiently. “Tell the lady of the Tear.”

“I was getting to that,” Qimirpik replied. “It was claimed the survivors died horrible deaths. Or they went mad. Most intriguing? All returned with magic in their blood. To heal. To see the truth. To create fire from air. Not unheard of in Ansnor, or Rhoth, for that matter, but to affect so many, at once? Hard to prove or disprove, since these people hid themselves away. But you can see why we’d be interested.”

Something was burning. Jenn sniffed, then pointed in alarm at the stove. Shaking her head, Peggs ran to retrieve the biscuits, putting aside the couple with blackened bottoms.

“The Tear.”

“Yes, yes. A dema brought with her a remarkable stone. She claimed it was a Tear shed by a Celestial, in grief over their—”

“White as a pearl,” Urcet interjected. “It fit in a man’s palm, yet no one could hold its weight more than an instant.”

Her pebble?!

Jenn stifled a gasp and Peggs clutched the honey pot to her bosom.

“There were other claims,” the dema said testily, as though his colleague was telling the juiciest parts. “That the Tear caused terrible dreams. That magic failed near it. It was deemed a punishment visited on the guilty. Not long afterward, the stone disappeared. Buried. Stolen. No one admits to knowing. We’re here,” he finished, “to summon another.”

She might not need to cross at all, Jenn thought, heart pounding with hope. With this rite, she could call her pebble to her.

“Why would you want such a thing?” From Aunt Sybb’s tone, she wondered more about the sanity of her guests.

“For proof,” said Urcet boldly. “These rites and wishings . . . your pardon, good dema, good lady, but are they not the bread of charlatans and fools in both your domains? But the Tear?” Jenn could hear the hunger in his voice. “What they did in this valley at the last eclipse brought forth something of demonstrable power. Power like the magic of Mellynne.

“We of Eld must understand such magic,” he went on, impassioned. “The Naalish are rumored to employ it as others use fire or steam, yet refuse to share or trade their knowledge. A matter of contention between our governments. But now we have new and wise friends in Ansnor, and magic? That’s to be found, right here.”

Aunt Sybb laughed gently. “What’s here is a quaint little village, nestled among interesting, but hardly exceptional rock. You’ve traveled for nothing, good sirs, other than the eclipse. The Naalish spread tales to impress foreigners. You’ve been fooled. There’s no such thing as magic, here or in Mellynne.”

A bold assertion, even for their aunt. How could she ignore the wishing and Wyll, let alone the toads? Jenn frowned in puzzlement.

Peggs finished loading a tray with the basket of almost burnt biscuits, the honey pot, and a bowl of the dried fruit Aunt Sybb relished for her constitution. She canted an eyebrow at her sister, mouthing the words “Trust her” as she stepped around the curtain into the parlor.

Peggs had the right of it, Jenn realized. However much Aunt Sybb disapproved of Marrowdell’s magic, she wouldn’t give such a secret to these strangers.

“That may be what we’ll prove, good lady,” the dema responded tactfully. A pause, as if he shrugged. “Then, as you say, we’ll have an excellent view of the eclipse and, not to forget, dance at your weddings.”

“But if the rite works, there’ll be a concrete result. A manifestation.” Urcet, however reluctant at first, seemed bent now on convincing Aunt Sybb. “Not as it was when we were tested yesterday. Something to take with us. Proof to silence nonbelievers.”

Take her pebble? A chill wind shifted the curtain and rattled the pots behind her. Jenn bit her lower lip, fighting her outrage. The air warmed and she briefly closed her eyes in relief.

“Thank you, Dear Heart. Good sirs, two biscuits surely. Some of the fruit. I insist. A most beneficial start to the day.” Then, as Peggs came back around the curtain, “So I take it what you would do here has not been approved by either of your peoples. Why,” Aunt Sybb asked with deceptive ease, “should we?”

“We mean no harm—” the dema began.

“I’m no fool,” her tone sharpened. “I fear you may well be. If this magic of yours works, what’s to say it won’t bring a second catastrophe to Marrowdell?”

“If you believe—and we do not—” Qimirpik emphasized, “—that the rite cast by the demas of the Refuge was in any way responsible, be reassured, Lady Mahavar, please. That they made such an attempt is anathema to all Ansnans.” He blew out a quick hard breath. “Never, never, would we do so. May the Celestials witness and judge. All I seek is the Tear and, in all honesty, I seek it to satisfy my own curiosity concerning its nature.”

“While I share no gods with my esteemed colleague,” Urcet added smoothly, “the rite we wish to perform is a simple finding spell, attuned to what we’ve learned of the Tear. Cast at the eclipse, far from the village, and at the highest point we can reach. It will be utterly harmless.”

If they believed any magic harmless, it proved how little they knew. If hers could so easily get out of control, their rite could as well. Jenn doubted either of them had any idea what their magic would do, only that they hoped it would do something.

Worse, she suspected what Urcet wanted wasn’t the same as the dema. Qimirpik, other than being a foreign person of different beliefs and a little bewildering at times, she judged overall a pleasant and decent sort. The Eld? Urcet, she feared, was after an accomplishment to impress his domain. For that, he wouldn’t settle for a stone. He’d want whatever power could tear down the Refuge and fill people with magic.

The pebble was hers. It wasn’t selfish, but true.

Her eyes met Peggs. They nodded as one.

The dema and Urcet mustn’t do any magic in Marrowdell.

The only magic, Jenn resolved, would be hers.

Before dawn, the commons filled with the bustle of those making ready to harvest the first of the two fields on the far side of river. Wyll being still buried in blankets and the tinkers not in sight, Bannan and Tir took advantage of a communal porridge pot left on the table by the gate, helping themselves as well to tea and honey. They took this welcome bounty to a bench from last night.

When done, Tir gave a satisfied grunt. “Ancestors Kind and Generous, they feed us well, sir. I made sure to tell your sister. Speaking of sisters . . .” He produced a rumpled envelope. “Care to read what yours said to me?”