Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series (42 page)

Imshish peered around
the door. ‘May I join you for a while? Kwanzi is dealing
magnificently with Thryssa and Elyssa. They are distraught over
Alya.’

‘Come in, come in,’
Kallema smiled at the young earth mage.

Emla barely registered
Imshish’s arrival, so deep in thought was she.

‘Fire,’ she now said
abruptly. Three faces turned to her enquiringly.

‘You have told me that
Talvo Circle and Gremara govern the fire element. Does that mean
that none of you in the other Circles work with fire?’

‘Why do you suddenly
ask of fire?’ Maressa asked curiously.

Emla shrugged. ‘Their
eyes. They look as though they could burn you up if they stared at
you long enough.’

The silence returned
while Emla’s words were considered.

‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Do
none of you work with fire?’

‘We all do,’ Imshish
answered her. ‘We regard fire as life, for without fire in one or
other of its many guises, life could not exist. All of us who are
gifted, have to master at least basic work with fire.’ He glanced
at Kallema and Maressa. ‘We in Segra Circle specialise in earth
magic and I think we probably use fire more often, in combination
with earth, than do the other Circles.’

‘Yes,’ Kallema agreed.
‘We are taught to use fire at the outset of our training but we
very rarely use it afterwards. Fire and water are naturally opposed
so we do not happily use it in our work.’

‘There are times when
we in Kedara use fire,’ Maressa offered. ‘It has considerable
strength to assist some of our experiments.’

‘But Gremara in Talvo
is most powerful with fire then?’ Emla persisted. ‘And she is mad
is she not?’

Imshish leaned back in
his chair, his lips pursed. ‘You think Gremara could be the source
of this affliction, Lady Emla?

Emla sighed. ‘I believe
it is a possibility, but I also feel there is something else,
which, in combination with Gremara’s power, is causing this problem
among your people.'’

‘But why do some eyes
turn silver? That could not be through Gremara could it?’ Maressa
thought aloud. ‘We could think that only those who are strongly
talented would be able to resist the madness and wake sane but with
silvered eyes. Alya is extremely strong and has advanced training.
Even if Elyssa is stronger, that fact has only recently been
uncovered – she has not been taught how to control or work with her
gifts. By that criteria, Elyssa should have succumbed and Alya
survived.’

Looking at the three
women’s worried faces, Imshish thought to change the
subject.

‘Has there been any
further news from Jilla and Bagri?’ he asked.

Emla managed a faint
smile. ‘A formal report from Bagri, a rather muddled report from
Jilla and a long letter from Ryla, the Senior who is at present at
my House.’

Imshish grinned. ‘And
why is poor Jilla’s report “muddled”, Lady Emla?’

‘I think she is still
rather amazed at sharing my hall with six Great
Dragons.’

‘Their effect is a
little startling, you have to admit,’ Maressa put in with a wry
grimace.

‘And how have your
people responded to the arrival of our two ambassadors?’ Imshish
asked.

Emla laughed aloud.
‘You may read Ryla’s letter if you wish. She is the oldest of us
all in Gaharn and very frail, but she is begging to be lifted onto
a circle and brought here to see this place herself.’

All were smiling when
the door was rapped lightly from without.

‘Come,’ called
Kallema.

A healer entered and
the smiles faded.

‘Already?’ Maressa
whispered.

The healer inclined his
head. ‘Kwanzi asked that I tell you of Alya’s death. She tried to
speak several times but we could make no sense of the noises she
made. At the end, she said clearly “Grey. Grey One”. Kwanzi has no
more idea than we what she might have meant. Perhaps it was just
the ravings of her broken mind. But he asked that I tell you.’ The
healer bowed and left them.

‘Oh stars!’

The Vagrantians turned
to Emla. Her pale face had whitened even further.

‘What is it Emla?’
Maressa went quickly to crouch at Emla’s side. ‘Do you know what
Alya could have been trying to say?’

Emla clutched Maressa’s
hand, staring at her wildly.

‘The Grey One. That is
one of the names given to the Guardian of the North, who is now in
Sapphrea and of whom I have spoken. The Grey One – my brother,
Rhaki.’

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Rhaki’s mind ranged
ever further and wider, glorying in the brilliance of insight that
the red flashes seemed to imbue him with. Then, on one of the
increasingly rare occasions when he was present in his body when
Serim attended him, he realised that his body was in fact ceasing
to function. He saw it was so when Serim removed the quilt that lay
lightly over him. Beneath, strips of oil-soaked linen covered
nearly all of his flesh. Serim gently lifted one of the strips and
Rhaki observed, quite dispassionately, that pits of ulcerating
sores were eating their way towards each other.

Rhaki probed deeper,
checking his heart and lungs, and found them labouring to sustain
him. He cursed himself for a fool to let his physical form slip so
far from life, too far, he accepted coolly. Fleetingly, the thought
of Bark crossed his mind: he wished Bark were here now, to become
the host for Rhaki’s spirit. He knew he had grown extraordinarily
powerful during this strange period, and it would not be too
difficult to abandon this shell and force his way into another
body.

It was just the
distressing lack of suitable bodies that caused Rhaki a mild
regret. But he consoled himself with the thought that he could
transfer himself again when a more fitting body presented itself.
Rhaki’s mind touched Serim’s, so lightly that the Delver was quite
unaware of it. Yes, it would be a simple matter to push Serim from
his body and fit himself in his place. And Serim would not resist
him until too late, for he foolishly believed in his master’s
goodness. Rhaki smiled and felt the skin of his cheeks crack and
split, blood seeping down his face.

‘Master?’ Serim spoke
softly, unsure if Rhaki was really conscious.

‘Yes?’

‘Master, nothing I do
is healing you. Can you tell me of anything else I might
try?’

‘What you are doing is
well enough.’ Rhaki’s voice was a faint croak. ‘Would you do
anything for me Serim?’

‘Anything Master. Tell
me and I would do it or die trying.’ The Delver sounded like a
fervent lover, Rhaki thought in amusement.

‘Continue as you are
doing Serim. It will not be much longer.’

Serim stared into
Rhaki’s eyes: they were covered now in the red scaling, all except
for black pupils in the centre of which a tiny flame seemed to
dance. Serim shivered in spite of himself as Rhaki’s lids drooped,
concealing those twisting flames.

Serim continued to
renew the dressings on Rhaki’s rotting flesh while Rhaki let his
mind escape again. He had discovered areas where he felt other
intelligences: some large, some small, some near, and some distant.
One in particular he felt drawn to. But try as he might, he could
find no points of reference in the red-filled darkness, which might
enable him to locate these intelligences.

He suspected some were
Beyond, and those he fled from, but the ones he felt sure were on
this world, he tried urgently to pinpoint. Some, indeed most, would
be inimical to him he knew, but there was, somewhere, one who had
similar goals and ambitions as did he. That was the mind he wanted
to find, without disclosing his own strength to whoever it might
be.

Rhaki floated, trying
to identify a sensation surrounding him. Eventually, he recognised
that he was experiencing a euphoric happiness such as he had not
felt for very many cycles. He laughed, and the sound seemed to fill
the whole of the strange universe in which he found
himself.

Half a day passed
before he remembered that he should not allow the link between
himself and his body to loosen any more. It was night in Sapphrea,
and he lay alone in his tower, suddenly all too aware of how
tenuously his body clung to life. He moved fractionally and pain
like fire coursed through his entire frame, as though he would burn
to ashes.

Soon. He would have to
take Serim’s body before another night arrived. He must not allow
himself to be distracted or let his mind be lost in this
fascinating new dimension. So Rhaki lay, forcing himself to
stillness and patience, for just a little while longer.

In spite of her
considerably changed status, Tika still found entering Return, and
more especially Lord Hargon’s fortified compound, an ordeal. With
Sket sticking to her shoulder like a burr, and imperceptible nods
of approval from Gan and Kemti, she walked through the passageways
to the room kept for the official reception of important
guests.

Hargon’s seneschal
Traff paced rigidly before their small party, pausing to bang on
the double doors with his staff of office. The armsmen to each side
of the door slid quick glances down at Tika’s small form as they
raised their swords to their foreheads in salute. The doors swung
inwards and their little procession began to move again. Traff
stepped to Tika’s left and announced loudly:

‘The Lady Tika of
Gaharn. The Lord Kemti of Gaharn. The Lord Gan, Captain of the
Golden Lady’s Guards of Gaharn.’

A hasty glance to where
a group of men stood near a blazing fire told Tika she had the
Lords of Far, Tagria and Andla to face after Hargon. Advancing
towards Hargon, Tika clenched her right fist and held it above the
golden flower insignia embroidered on her cloak.

Navan stood beside
Hargon, having left their group in the outer courtyard and entered
by a different route to be by Hargon’s side. Hargon’s younger, and
now only, son also stood by Hargon, his eyes hard and his lip
pouting. Hargon and Navan both saluted the guests. Bartos folded
his arms and looked bored. When formalities had been exchanged
Hargon began to introduce the other Lords and their
Armschiefs.

‘Where is the girl?’
Bartos’s treble rang clearly across his father’s introduction of
Zalom, Lord of Andla.

Hargon continued,
ignoring the question, but it was repeated, louder, when Raben of
Tagria was greeting Tika. Hargon only glanced briefly at his
seneschal.

‘Remove him,’ he said
with no inflection in his voice.

Traff grunted when
Bartos landed a kick on his ankle, but Traff merely hoisted the boy
by the back of his belt and disregarding his yells and squirming,
removed him, as Hargon had ordered.

Tika took the
opportunity, in the small pause when all formalities were done
with, to offer Hargon condolence.

‘We heard of your son’s
accident with sorrow for you,’ she told him.

‘Thank you,’ Hargon
replied stiffly. ‘It is a great loss to me, but personal matters
must be put aside. Please, be seated if you will.’

Gan noted the interest
with which the Lords and their Armschiefs scrutinised Tika. He also
noted the effort Tika was making to seem unaware of that
scrutiny.

‘The latest information
I have from the Guardian’s tower is that the men labouring on the
adjacent buildings complain of a strange sweet smell that pervades
everything, and a feeling of great tiredness. Could that be due to
some new activity of the Guardian?’

Tika tried hard to
appear far more relaxed than she actually was. ‘Firstly Lord
Hargon, Rhaki is no longer the Guardian of the North, so let us not
refer to him as such.’

Heads nodded around the
table.

‘Secondly, we have only
just arrived. I felt a great deal of power drawn close to the
building we could see in the distance but I am not yet prepared to
test the defences he may have.’

‘What defences?’ Seboth
of Far asked mildly. ‘He has only one little man who is allowed in
to his tower so I think you must mean his magical
defences?’

Hargon’s brows lowered
in annoyance. He hated all talk of the power, or magic, or whatever
it was called, but he knew he had to accept that that was just what
Sapphrea faced once more.

Tika shrugged. ‘Magic –
call it what you will. Lord Hargon has told us that Rhaki has
killed armsmen just by using his mind.’

‘We knew he could do
this only recently.’ Kemti said quietly. ‘He killed one of my
colleagues before he left the Stronghold.’

‘That is true,’ Tika
confirmed. ‘And he came here to Sapphrea using the power in a
mosaic circle.’ She was speaking mainly to the other men now,
having told Hargon this at the Lodge.

‘Hargon has already
asked if we know of any such things’ Raben made his first
contribution. ‘There have always been rumours – you know – tales to
frighten naughty children to their beds with – of such a place. It
is said to be further west, in the spoiled lands that border the
Bitter Sea.’