‘Good afternoon, sir, welcome to the Academie.’
She bowed deeply, glad that the cut of the acolyte’s robes actually suited her slender frame and especially pleased that she had worn her glossy hair untied today.
He stopped. ‘Ah, I thought I saw someone here a moment ago. Thank you…er…?’
‘I am Xantia. My apologies that you have not been given the welcome we reserve for our royal guests but we were not expecting you so soon.’ She smiled at him, using the moment to absorb his imposing presence.
Tor was amused. He was tempted to enquire how she knew he was the royal representative but it had been too long since he had clapped eyes on such a beauty. Not since Eryn in fact and his mind naturally wandered from her to Alyssa. He could not resist the temptation to enjoy this moment, though Merkhud’s warning hovered. She was politely waiting.
‘Yes, I travelled much swifter than I expected. I hope my prompt arrival presents no inconvenience, Xantia?’
Even his voice was delicious.
‘Not a bit. A welcome distraction for all, I’m sure,’ she flirted, enjoying the effect of her coquettish remark in his sparkling eyes.
‘My name is Torkyn Gynt. I’m Under Physic to the royals and most honoured to be here.’
A gaggle of urgent voices preceded the disgruntled arrival of Elders Iris, May and Ellyn and prevented their conversation going further.
Xantia curtsied, blushing.
‘Acolyte Xantia!’ Elder Iris admonished.
She would have to face their wrath later she was sure. She kept her face turned towards her toes. The rules may well be relaxed for this special festival but Xantia had broken strict protocol. She could see it written over their stunned faces when she stole a glance.
‘Elders,’ said their visitor, bowing low.
He made his formal introduction again.
‘I am Under Physic Torkyn Gynt, representative of their majesties King Lorys and Queen Nyria and here on behalf of Physic Merkhud who is a little too frail
to travel this year. I must apologise for my unexpected early arrival.’ He did not wait and gave them no time to respond. ‘I believe I misunderstood the blind man out there. He did not actually say anything but when he pointed, I thought he meant for me to wait here.’
He allowed a pause for the full weight of his smile to soften the pursed lips in front of him. They remained determinedly pinched.
‘And your most polite Xantia, who happened to be passing, greeted me so courteously. She was keen to find you but I fear I kept her talking about your beautiful architecture here.’ He turned to wave his hands at the auditorium. As he did so he winked at Xantia.
She held her breath to stop herself getting into any further trouble. He had winked! She adored him.
‘Perhaps during my stay Xantia might be allowed to show me around the areas of the Academie I’m permitted to see?’
She had to clench her teeth to stop disbelief washing away her contrite expression. The Elders could hardly decline him publicly. Now he was formally kissing each of their hands and gravely handed to Elder Iris the rolled parchment he had carried from the King.
Her voice was still hard but Xantia sensed the old girl was warming. ‘Well, Physic Gynt, we’re glad your journey was safe and speedy. How is the Queen?’
‘I saw her just a short while before I left the Palace and she was making an excellent recovery.’ He waited, those blue eyes wide and disarming.
‘That is good news.’ She twitched with an attempt to smile. ‘And our dear friend, Physic Merkhud?’
‘He is much improved, Elder Iris. Still fragile from a recent illness but certainly mending. Extremely disappointed, of course, that he could not be with you for this special celebration.’
‘He will be missed,’ Elder May chimed in.
Xantia could feel the thaw and was glad to see she had been forgotten for the time being.
Ellyn, the least crusty of the Elders, was smiling at last. ‘Has Saxon taken your belongings, Physic Gynt?’
‘He has, thank you. Maybe I could wash away some of the dust of the journey and join you shortly? I have news and gifts from Merkhud.’
They bowed.
Elder Iris spoke briefly to Xantia. ‘Show our guest to his rooms.’
Xantia was surprised and delighted to be given such a task. She bobbed a quick bow to her Elder.
‘And Xantia…’
She turned back to the stern face. ‘Yes, Elder Iris?’
‘The free hour is almost complete. Straight back to your duties, please.’ There was enough in the Elder’s tone to warn Xantia against flouting the rules further.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered to Tor as they took their leave.
‘Don’t mention it. Are they always that much fun?’ he asked.
‘I don’t understand you—Elder Iris was in high spirits.’ She laughed at her jest. ‘Did you mean what you said about me being your guide?’
‘Of course! But I’m not sure if the Sisters of Mirth will permit it.’
Xantia had to stifle her delight at his irreverent dig at the women she found so tiresome in her life. Torkyn Gynt was a brilliant breath of fresh air and she was going to make sure she relished every moment of his stay. She took him the longest possible route she could devise to reach the small building not far from the stables which the women had readied weeks ago.
‘Here already?’ he said.
She would later repeat that over and over in her mind, searching for whether she heard regret in his lovely voice.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here, Physic Gynt,’ she said, opening the door and stepping aside.
Saxon hobbled over. Tor found it hard not to stare at the ruined orbs of his eyes. He tried to imagine how such a gruesome injury could have occurred. Saxon pointed to Tor’s saddlebags, already deposited in the rooms and disappeared to the stable.
‘Now there’s a man of few words,’ Tor commented.
‘Well, that might be because he can’t speak. Goth stabbed his eyes and cut out his tongue, amongst other atrocities.’ Xantia saw the shock pass across Tor’s smooth, open face. ‘Oh, of course, you would know the Chief Inquisitor.’
‘And I wish I did not,’ he said coldly. ‘I’m very sorry to hear this tale.’
‘Oh, it’s far worse. But it’s a long story and I’ll be skinned if I don’t get back to my study.’
‘Xantia, thank you. I have enjoyed this time and hope we’ll get an opportunity to talk again. Perhaps you can tell me Saxon’s full story?’
He took her hand and kissed it lightly. She felt a thrill pass through her.
Tor, be careful,
cautioned Cloot over the link. He sat on the rooftop of the Academie.
Oh, fly away, bird and find something else to prey on,
Tor replied.
You’re playing with fire,
Cloot warned.
Actually I am hungry. I’m off to hunt, though I think you should give up the hunt!
He did his usual trick and closed the link before Tor could respond.
Xantia had every intention of seeing the physic again whether she was permitted to or not. She blushed, embarrassed by her own thoughts, and hurried away, taking the precaution of going the long way via the study of Elder Iris to make sure she was seen scurrying past alone, busy about her duties.
Helplessly drawn back through corridors which might catch her a glimpse of Gynt, she paused when she spied him at the well, his shirt off and his face and hair dripping. She knew he could not see her so she felt safe, hidden behind another convenient pillar, to stare at his body which was lightly sculpted with muscle.
Tor knew she was there, of course. He smiled inwardly and stretched for her benefit, shaking his
hair free of the water. She might as well enjoy the sight of a man. He hated that such a lively young acolyte might be shaped into the brittle women the Elders seemed.
Xantia dared not tarry any longer and tiptoed away. Tor sensed her leave and thought of Alyssa, who would be about the same age as this lovely young woman. He cast from habit, not expecting anything after so many years of silence. He reached the usual void but this time did it seem just slightly less dense? He stopped drying his face and followed the trace back. He was right. It was different; definitely not as dull as usual.
He felt a spark of excitement. Lys had told him Alyssa was alive and that she would help him to find her. Perhaps this was the beginning. Perhaps she was even somewhere close by.
Alyssa was not furious as Xantia had hoped but she was unsettled. Talk of Goth always unnerved her. She could hardly remember the weeks after the attack and she did not want to. The sight of Saxon in such pain; those young boys…No, even now she preferred not to recall any of it.
In those first weeks, floating in the Green had been her only sanctuary. So it was a shock to hear Saxon’s voice reaching for her, searching for her. He was dead. How could he talk to her? She thought she was imagining it but she chased it anyway, racing
towards his voice and finally opening her eyes to see that it was true. He lived.
He looked so different now. But the black ruin where his bright eyes had been did not frighten her. The twisted limbs, which had once been part of a fine body, did not offend her. His voice across the link was still the same and that was enough; she had curled into his gnarled, crippled arms and felt calm again.
Alyssa had not been aware of Xantia for a long time though she realised later that the young woman must have been there from the beginning; always watching, ever helpful. Alyssa spoke to Saxon and Sorrel via the link, until that power was taken away from her a few years back when she was accepted as an acolyte at the Academie.
Sorrel had confirmed that the Elders had accepted them; that they knew Alyssa was sentient and had offered their protection. When she was summoned, Alyssa had gone to the grand hall where everyone from the Academie was gathered. After a brief ceremony, Elder Iris had taken a beautiful green disc from a velvet pouch and pressed it to her forehead, where it remained to this day. She was a full member of Caremboche now, an Untouchable. And it did feel safe.
Xantia had filled the gap of friendship for her. The girl was fun. She made Alyssa laugh and they became very close quickly, though Alyssa never revealed her past. This was a new beginning for her. She liked her quiet existence at the Academie and she soon showed an adeptness in the archives unrivalled by any other.
‘Not since Elder Amie have we had someone so dedicated and talented in our archives,’ she had heard Elder Iris comment.
It was true. Alyssa felt completely at peace amongst her books and she spent her time devouring their contents. She had learned much and just recently had stumbled across a small trapdoor in the library which no one else seemed to know was there.
It was covered by bookshelves and only discovered because Alyssa had begun a committed ‘clean up’ of the library. An enormous task. It had taken her almost a year of toil to get this far—not even halfway. With Saxon’s help she had moved this particular row of shelves and found the loose flagstone.
A search beneath the trapdoor had revealed nothing exciting, just some very old, dusty tomes. To Alyssa it was treasure; to the other acolytes, who had been expecting a stash of gems or similar, it was a disappointment. And to the Elders, who had merely hoped not to find crumbling skeletons, it was a relief to give the books into Alyssa’s care.
‘It’s in a language I’ve never seen,’ commented Elder Ellyn, probably the most learned of all the Elders.
Alyssa had never seen the complex characters before either but was astounded to discover that she could understand them. She had no idea how or why.
She had just finished reading the first of the carefully hand-inscribed books when the luncheon bell had forced her up from the tomb of the library. Alyssa
was not much interested in food but she had promised Sorrel she would attend each luncheon, not just to eat but to mix with the other women. Sorrel felt this was important but Alyssa had found it increasingly difficult since she and Xantia had fallen out. It was too sad. Such a great friendship in tatters and for what? Too many times to count Alyssa had turned over in her mind why Xantia behaved so aggressively.
Now, back in the library and still angry with Xantia for throwing Goth’s name in her face, Alyssa did not feel in the mood to embark on the second book, though her fingers itched to open its leather cover. Startling revelations in the first had convinced her that the old folklore stories about the warlock Orlac, who had devastated this place many centuries earlier, were not all legend. It was a terrifying notion and she had decided not to mention it to anyone yet.
She had laid the books aside and was preparing to transcribe a parchment for Elder Ellyn when she felt a nudge in her mind. She knew she had to be mistaken. She had not been able to open a link or even feel one open for years now. Her last communication in this manner had been to bid farewell to Saxon’s voice.
She frowned. She felt it again; almost familiar but very indistinct. If she was not concentrating so hard, she would hardly even know it was there but something was definitely niggling at her. Alyssa touched the disc on her forehead. The archalyt was there. No link could open with that in place. She shook her head; she was getting fanciful in all this silence.
The sensation made her think of Tor, though. She briefly wondered what he might be doing at this exact moment and allowed herself just a fleeting satisfaction that perhaps he had tried to link with her. Then she chided herself. Tor was a memory now and she should not dwell on him. She would never see him again.
Alyssa forced herself to return to her ancient parchment and got lost in her transcribing.
‘Acolyte Xantia is impressionable. She has never been…shall we say, comfortable…with her status at Caremboche.’
Tor knew he was being given a shrouded warning. ‘Do the women not make a choice to be at the Academie?’ Tor asked, deflecting where this conversation was headed.
‘Not always, Physic Gynt. Xantia, for example, was delivered here as an infant, just four moons old. Her sentient mother had been bridled by the Inquisitors and the folk from her village feared for the child’s safety.’
‘That’s understandable—’