Authors: Deborah Chester
He
bowed hastily and moved back a step. “Yes, Deputy Anas.”
“At
the base of the mountain is plentiful grass for the horses and forage for the
elephants. You will find excellent camping sites near the stream. Please do not
allow your men to ascend the mountain again until it is time for these sisters
to depart from us.”
He
bowed again. “As you wish.”
Turning
smartly on his heel, he strode away. Orders rang out. The elephants were
unwilling to move, but with much shouting and noise they were turned about and
the guardsmen headed down the road. The mound of luggage stood abandoned and
forlorn.
“That
will be seen to later,” Anas said. Stepping aside, she gestured gracefully. “Come.”
Bixia
gathered up her skirts with an ill-natured huff. “Why didn’t you lay out a
carpet? These old steps are so rough they’ll snag my slippers. Must we climb
all these steps? I would prefer to be carried.”
Again,
Hecati made no effort to correct her. Elandra frowned at the woman, but Hecati
seemed lost in thought. It was strange behavior for her. Usually she would be
fawning and flattering, doing her best to make sure Bixia charmed everyone.
Anas
seemed impervious to Bixia’s rudeness. “There is no one to carry you. Come.”
She
started up with Bixia at her heels. Hecati was next and Elandra last.
The
cloud still obscured the sun, and indeed it seemed darker than ever. The
burning candles in the sisters’ hands
flickered and blazed, although the wind did not put
them out.
The
steps were very steep and worn. Halfway up some were broken, making the footing
treacherous. Trying to get a better grip on her long skirts, which were
billowing in the wind, Elandra tripped slightly on her hem and pitched forward.
To save herself, she put her hand against the small of Hecati’s back for just a
second to regain her balance.
Hecati
jumped as though startled, and two candles in the hands of the sisters on
either side of her went out with loud pops. Hecati loosed a low, strange
cry—almost a moan. The timbre of the sound made goosebumps stand up on Elandra’s
arms.
At
the head of the line, Anas was already turning back. She pushed past Bixia
without a word and came gliding swiftly down the steps. Her face was set
implacably.
Elandra
tried to back away from Hecati, who was still making that eerie sound like a
cornered animal. But the two Penestricans with the wooden staffs stood behind
Elandra, crossing their staffs to block the way down. Their faces were harsh
and suddenly hostile.
Alarm
ran through Elandra. Not understanding what was wrong, she looked about.
Another
candle went out, and another. The sisters standing farther up the steps now
crowded down as close to Elandra and Hecati as they could get.
A
cry of accusation went up: “Witch! Witch! Witch!”
Anas’s
blue eyes were as bright as flames. She glared first at Elandra, then at
Hecati. “Worshiper of Mael, you are unwelcome in this place of the goddess
mother.”
Hecati’s
face tensed into a knot. She flung an accusing finger at Elandra. “She is the
witch!” Hecati cried in a shrill, ugly voice. “The betrayer has already been at
work. She destroyed the sacred bridal robe—”
Anas
turned up her palms. A blue globe of truth-light appeared on each of them. She tossed
one at Elandra and one at Hecati.
It
was all happening too fast. Elandra opened her mouth to defend herself when the
light struck her forehead and shimmered down the full length of her. It felt
strange and prickly, but then it pooled at her feet. When it touched the ground
it turned into a tiny garter snake that slithered quickly away from the toe of
her slipper and vanished.
Hecati
screamed and threw up both hands, crossing her wrists as a shield. The blue
truth-light struck her arms and burst in a halo of swiftly changing colors—blue
to indigo to purple. A black pool formed on the ground at her feet. Instead of
turning into a snake, the black ooze widened, spreading quickly toward Elandra.
Crying
out, she tried to back away, but the Penestricans with the staffs still blocked
the steps behind her and would not budge. The stench of something burning
filled the air, as always when Hecati worked one of her spells. Only this time,
although her face was strained with effort, whatever she was trying to accomplish
did not materialize.
Anas
extended her hand toward the ooze, and it stopped spreading. Only a scant inch
from Elandra’s foot, the liquid immediately dried to an ugly scum that stained
the steps.
“Mael
worshiper,” Anas said again, her gaze locked on Hecati. “Witch!”
The
word was as sharp as a lash. Hecati flinched.
Anas
gestured. “Begone from us, dark creature. Begone!”
“What
are you saying?” Bixia demanded, trying to push closer without success. “My
aunt isn’t a witch. How dare you call her that. How dare you—”
Hecati
glanced back and forth angrily. She made no effort to deny Anas’s accusations.
Instead she glared at Anas with a mad light in her eyes. “You pious fools, your
days on this earth are over. A new era is dawning, one in which the dark pair shall
stride the earth and crush it!”
“No,”
Elandra breathed, horrified by this blasphemy.
Hecati’s
terrible gaze turned on her. “As for you, already you dance in the arms of the
shadow lord—”
“No!”
Elandra cried. Fear ignited in her. The half-seen figure in her dreams, the
unknown lover ... it could not be. “No!” she cried again, denying it with every
fiber of her being despite the doubts Hecati had awakened.
“Think
of your destiny, fool,” Hecati said. “You are doomed—”
“Enough,”
Anas broke in. “Go now, before we drive you into the dust whence you came.”
“You
can’t send her away!” Bixia cried, still not understanding anything. “She’s my
aunt. You can’t—”
“Go?”
Hecati said, glaring at Anas. “You feeble creature. You dare mock the strength
of She Whom I Serve. But you will regret it. We sent the Vindicants to destroy
you once. They will do so again.”
“We
survived,” Anas retorted, her jaw set. “We were not defeated. Our path
continues, strong in the visionings, no matter how much blood you unleash on
this land.”
Hecati
hissed with fury, and now that sound took on a new, far more terrible meaning
to Elandra. That she had grown up in the care of this creature horrified her.
Hecati represented unspeakable evil. Elandra could feel the taint on her, a
cold rottenness, like touching a slimy, decaying piece of fungus in the jungle
by mistake.
“Let
her pass!” Anas commanded to the women holding the staffs.
They
reluctantly stepped aside. “Deputy—”
Anas
gestured furiously, and Hecati laughed.
“They
want to kill me, Deputy,” she mocked. “They want to spill my blood. Why don’t
you let them?”
Anas’s
blue eyes blazed. “Violence breeds violence. Spill your blood on these steps
and let evil take hold practically within our gates? Let her go!”
Hecati
circled around Elandra as though to take the escape permitted her. Then she
paused and stared deep into Elandra’s eyes.
“No!”
Bixia called, still unable to get through the press of Penestricans blocking
her path. “Aunt Hecati, don’t leave me! I need you. I
need
you! Please, please. I don’t
understand!”
Hecati
did not even glance back. Her evil gaze went on boring into Elandra. “You think
you’ve won,” she whispered. “I would have gained entrance here if not for you.
Oh, you’re a clever girl. Clever. But the dark goddess will not forget your
interference this day. No, she will not forget.”
As
she spoke, Hecati lifted her hand as though to slap Elandra.
Elandra
flinched reflexively, but instead of a physical blow, an intense white light
struck and blinded her. Then something else hit Elandra, knocking her into the
wall with stunning force. She must have cried out in pain and shock, but she
could hear nothing for the roaring blast around her. It was as though the
cliffs had exploded.
The
roaring went on and on until she wondered if it was the end of the world
finally come upon them.
Then
the roaring stopped, and feeling returned to her bit by bit. Her head stopped
ringing, although it ached fiercely. She felt the hardness of the steps beneath
her, stone edges digging into the side of her left breast and hip. She smelted
dust and a scorched scent of magic and some kind of bitter herbs she could not
identify. The wind was still blowing, and the women around her were chattering
with a mixture of fury and consternation. She could even hear Bixia wailing in
the distance.
But
despite all that; Elandra could see nothing. Instead of the shifting shapes and
colors of vision, she was surrounded by a strange, unsettling whiteness. Like
fog, only bright, like the glare of sunshine off the white walls of her father’s
palace in summer. A painful, glaring whiteness. Not the usual dark of having
her eyes closed. Not that.
Gentle
hands lifted her and smoothed back her hair.
“Are
you hurt?” It was the voice of Anas that spoke to her.
Elandra
stared at nothing, her wits slowly returning, although what they had to face
was too terrifying. She opened her mouth and could not find the words to speak.
What would become of her now? How could she live her life, crippled in this
way? Could anything be done?
“Get
back. Give her air,” Anas commanded. “The Magria must be informed. Resta, I
shall deal with you soon. You were careless, allowing a Maelite so near to us.”
“But,
Deputy—”
“Hush!
We cannot discuss it here. Come to my chambers later.”
“Yes,
Deputy.”
Footsteps
and more chatter. A cool hand on Elandra’s brow was comforting, although
nothing could remove her shock and rising panic.
“Are
you hurt?” Anas persisted. “Can you answer, Elandra? The witch is gone. You
will not be harmed by her again. I promise that.”
A
promise. Elandra swallowed back bitter laughter. Oh, a promise. She had already
been harmed enough; what more did she have to fear from Hecati now? As for this
self-pity flooding her, what good was it? Elandra found herself choking on the
unwanted emotion, hating it.
She
coughed, still supported by Anas’s kind hands, and felt tears slip down her
cheeks. “I—I—” Her mouth was too dry. She choked again and bowed her head.
Someone
else came.
“Be
gentle with her,” Anas said quietly. “It is spell- shock. She cannot yet speak.
Take her inside. No, carry her. Speak softly and make no sudden movements. We
were careless, sisters. We were all careless, and see what it has cost us. The
Magria will be most displeased.”
No
one answered that stinging rebuke. The fact that Anas’s voice carried
self-blame as well as censure made little difference to Elandra.
Two
sisters carried her between them. Elandra let them do as they wished. Her mind
was filled with memory and a gamut of tangled emotions. Hecati—hate-filled and
vindictive—had had the last word as always. With sorcery, Hecati had taken her
sight.
Slave
markets were
all much the same in smell, in noise, in procedure; only the locations changed
from year to year.
Caelan
E’non crouched on his haunches in one corner of his holding pen, idly gazing
through the bars at the thronging crowd shopping in the marketplace while he
flicked pebbles with his thumbnail. It was blazing hot, like sitting in the
bottom of a brass cauldron. No breath of wind reached this corner. The only
shade came from a narrow oblong cast by a tattered scrap of cloth tied over the
top of the large pen next to his. Some of the occupants were huddled there,
making themselves even hotter by their own proximity. But most strutted around
restlessly, flexing their bulky muscles and eyeing each other with open
hostility.
Grateful
to be isolated, since numerous fights had broken out in the larger pens since
last night, Caelan pretended to ignore everyone. But his senses were nervously
alert.