The Exile and the Sorcerer (33 page)

“It must have been quite a handicap.”

Tevi’s attempted smile was unconvincing. “It would be nice to think it’s the reason I’m so incompetent at fighting.”

“
Incompetent
is not a word normally applied to any warrior who kills a basilisk.”

“I am by the standards of my village. Do you think I’ll be better now?”

“It’s hard to say. You may be able to make full use of your vision, or habits may be so ingrained you’ll be unable to change. But your family can’t have thought that badly of you if they entrusted you with the quest.”

“I wasn’t given the quest as a mark of honour.” Tevi looked as if she was about to throw up.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jemeryl was now very concerned.

“I’m just a bit queasy. Maybe some smoke from the fire...” The halfhearted words died away.

Jemeryl moved to a stool by Tevi’s side but restrained the urge to touch the other woman. Adding everything together, things were making more sense.
She volunteered to find the chalice as an act of bravado to silence her critics
.

Tevi stared forlornly at the ground.

“I can’t promise, but now that your eyes are fixed, if you find the chalice and go back...”

“There’s not much chance of that.”

“Yes, there is, with my help.”

“Do you know where the chalice is?”

“No, but I know how to go about finding it.”

“I suppose if you point me in the right direction...”

“Better than that, I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t do that.” Unlike her previous apathy, this time Tevi’s response was immediate, horrified.

“Why not? The villagers will be relieved to see me go and I can help you enormously. Wouldn’t you like my company?” Cautiously, Jemeryl reached out and took hold of Tevi’s hand.

The effect on Tevi was instantaneous. She snatched her hand away and lurched to her feet. “I don’t know about the chalice. But you can’t come with me.”

“Tevi?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound rude. Thank you for the offer. It’s kind of you, but it’s out of the question. I...I’m...I think I need to go to bed.” Tevi fled.

Alone in the parlour, Jemeryl sat bewildered. How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? She looked at Klara. “Why was she so upset? What did I say?”

“I think it’s more what you did. She doesn’t want to hold your hand. Mumbling sweet nothings in her ear and strolling in the moonlight are probably out as well. You can forget the rest.”

Jemeryl stood up. Her eyes fixed on the door to Tevi’s room. She took a half step and then stopped, turned around, and threw herself down in her chair. She glared at the embers of the fire, confusion giving way to hurt. Somehow, she had taken it for granted that Tevi would return her affection, but it was impossible to miss the rebuff in Tevi’s behaviour. And it did not take any sorcerer’s arts to know the rejection had been largely personal.

“I thought she liked me.”

“Ah, but that was before she saw you. Maybe you look an awful lot worse than she was expecting.” Klara fluttered down to the arm of the chair. She tilted her head to one side. “And to be brutally honest, her expectations needn’t have been that high.”

With a forced attempt at a smile, Jemeryl pushed the magpie off her perch.

*

Jemeryl left the shutters in place the next morning, since she knew that Tevi’s eyes would be hypersensitive. Consequently, the parlour was still in dim half-light when Tevi finally made her appearance. Jemeryl watched with concern. It was apparent that the night’s sleep had done nothing to improve Tevi’s mood. Problems with vision had to be a contributing factor, but Jemeryl was gloomily certain there was more to it.

“Good morning, Tevi. How are you?”

“Not good,” Tevi mumbled.

“Is it just your eyes?”

“More or less. I feel a bit nauseous as well.”

“Breakfast might help. There’s bread, honey, and milk on the table.”

Tevi stumbled across the room and sat with a groan.

Jemeryl joined her at the table, though she kept a discreet distance. For a while, Tevi picked at her food, her whole manner subdued. The easy friendship of the previous day was gone, replaced by a strained reserve. This was not the time to press the issue of joining Tevi on the quest, but it would be several days before Tevi was able to travel. Jemeryl could only hope that things would improve by then.

Tevi ate slowly, her eyes glued to the tabletop. “I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to cope with this.”

“It will get easier. Give it time.”

“I...I’m sorry if I’m not seeming too grateful at the moment.”

Tevi’s voice had lost some of its sullen tone, which gave Jemeryl the confidence to quip, “That’s all right. I can wait until tomorrow for you to tell me how wonderful I’ve been.”

“I suppose, to be fair, I could concede that now.” Tevi closed her eyes in a grimace. “But the light is very bright.”

“The shutters are closed.”

“I know. How long before my eyes will be better?”

“You should notice some improvement by tomorrow. In eight or nine days, you’ll be able to cope with full daylight.”

“I guess that’s not too bad.”

“It might be a bit boring for you. There’s nothing exciting I can offer in the way of entertainment in the dark,” Jemeryl said.
At least, nothing you’ve given me grounds to think you might be interested in
.

“I’ve had enough excitement in the past few days. But I don’t want to stop you, if there’s anything you need to do. I don’t mind being left alone.” Tevi’s tone implied that she would even prefer solitude.

Jemeryl tried to prevent her disappointment from showing—an unnecessary precaution, given that Tevi had not once glanced in her direction. There seemed little hope of charming her way back into Tevi’s favour. Investigating other options seemed the best hope. She was sure that part of Tevi’s reticence was due to a belief that finding the chalice was impossible. Proving otherwise might not remove all objections, but it would be a start. Few resources were at hand in the castle, yet they were almost certainly sufficient to deduce Abrak’s true identity. From there, other leads might come.

A little diplomacy was called for. Jemeryl tried not to sound too eager as she said, “There’s nothing I have to do. However, your story of Abrak caught my interest, as a sorcerer. I thought while you’re around to answer questions, I might try to find out more about her.”

“What would you like to know?”

“I’ve got books in my study that will mention her, but I’d need to know her real name.”

“Her real name? What’s wrong with Abrak?”

“It’s like a miller called Dusty or a carpenter called Chips. ‘Abrak’ is a joke name for a sorcerer, short for ‘Abracadabra.’ It’s a piece of meaningless gibberish that for some reason is linked with magic in the minds of storytellers.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know any other name for her?”

Tevi shook her head and clearly regretted it instantly. She clasped her hands to her temples. “Idiot,” she winced between clenched teeth. Her arms dropped and she met Jemeryl’s gaze with a faint smile for the first time that morning. “I meant me, not you. The room whirled when I did that.”

“I realised.” Jemeryl smiled back, happy that the tension had eased slightly. “Since you don’t know her name, it might help if I had some dates to work with. Do you know when Abrak arrived on your islands?”

“We islanders don’t go in for keeping written records of dates. We don’t even have words for numbers over twelve. There’s no need. If you see an enemy war band with more warriors than that, you don’t hang about to count the rest. Sheep are added up on tally sticks. I’ve mainly learned about numbers since I’ve been on the mainland. Marith gave me lessons. She said I needed to keep track of money and things like that.”

“Perhaps you can give some indirect dates. You said the leader in the rebellion was your...” Jemeryl’s forehead creased. “Great-great-great-grandmother. Do you know how old your ancestors were when they gave birth?”

“My mother was quite old when she had me. She’d had three boys and several miscarriages, plus a couple who died in infancy. She was my grandmother’s first child, but after that, it gets a bit vague. My grandmother had two elder sisters. I think there was also a brother. My grandmother was still a child when both her older sisters were killed in battle. Which was how she became queen.”

A gesture from Jemeryl stopped Tevi. “Males don’t become kings?”

“Never.”

“And your grandmother was queen?”

“Yes. Didn’t I say?”

“And you’re the eldest daughter of her eldest daughter.” Jemeryl frowned. “I admit I’m not over familiar with hereditary monarchies, but doesn’t that mean you’ll be queen one day?”

Tevi’s expression became even less happy. “Probably not. I promised not to go back without the chalice, and I doubt I’ll find it. But I’ve got a younger sister, and I’m sure she’ll do a good job.”

Despite her diffidence, Tevi was clearly fighting to keep her lower lip steady. Jemeryl was confused. From what she had put together, Tevi had not been held in high regard by her family and had volunteered to find the chalice to prove her worth. That Tevi had been willing to risk her place in the succession must have been a desperate gamble on her part. People from hereditary cultures attached immense importance to following their parents, or so Jemeryl had heard. Yet although Tevi was clearly distressed, she showed no sign of being driven to reclaim her inheritance. Tevi’s character did not appear to lack determination, and the basilisk proved she was no coward. Why was she so ready to abandon all hope of returning home? Something else had to be involved. However, Jemeryl was sure it was unwise to probe the subject until some level of trust could be re-established.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...er...interrupt. We were talking about dates. Do you know how old you are?”

“Twenty, I think.”

“And your mother had been pregnant quite a few times before. So when you were born, she must have been...mid-thirties?” Jemeryl guessed.

“Yes, about that.” Tevi’s voice was steadier.

“Right. Then your grandmother...” Jemeryl grabbed a pen and began making notes.

A short while later, Tevi had passed on all the relevant information she possessed. Jemeryl added up the figures and chewed the end of the quill.

“I estimate Abrak was shipwrecked about one hundred and forty to one hundred and seventy-five years ago. It’s something to work with.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“That’s all right. There can’t have been too many sorcerers who disappeared without a trace in the vicinity of Walderim during that time.”

“Is there anything else you want?”

Jemeryl sighed. She would have liked to bring her books down and sit in the parlour, but Tevi would clearly be happier on her own. “No. I’m going to see if I can find anything out. If you have any problems, call me.”

“I’ll be fine. The bears can keep me company.”

Jemeryl tramped despondently up the stairs. She had hoped that Tevi’s abrupt departure the night before had been due to a misunderstanding, but Tevi had been blatantly building barriers between them. Even allowing for problems with her sight, she had pointedly avoided looking in Jemeryl’s direction. And it was too late for Jemeryl to wish she had kept a tighter rein on her own emotions.

A long row of books on herbalism lined one shelf in the study. Jemeryl groaned at the sight. None was quite what she needed. A directory of sorcerers would have been best, but all she had were the medical books she had brought, anticipating the needs of the villagers. Iralin’s words of censure echoed in her ears. Most had not been off the shelf since she arrived. Jemeryl was not even sure what some of them contained, but there should be biographical notes for the creators of various potions, with cross-references for people who were interested in further details of their work.

Jemeryl called a book over to her. It was going to be a long, tedious search.

*

By late afternoon, Jemeryl had gone through five books and learnt nothing. She closed the cover and sent the last one back to the shelf. The hours were taking a toll, and her concentration was suffering. The best course was probably to stop for the day and start again in the morning.

It was getting dark. When she looked at it, the window displayed only her reflection. Apart from a brief meeting at lunch, she had not spoken to Tevi. Maybe by now, the mercenary would be ready for company.

The parlour was much as she had left it. The bears were sleeping in front of the fire. Several squirrels had dragged a cloak over to make a nest. However, there was no sign of Tevi. The absence was surprising. On her way from the study, Jemeryl had seen that Tevi was not in the hall. Even at dusk, being outside would put a strain on Tevi’s eyes, although it was possible that she was attending to her pony. Before checking the stables, Jemeryl tried knocking on the door to Tevi’s room.

“Tevi?” There was no answer. Jemeryl pushed the door open and peered in.