The Exile and the Sorcerer

Two women, ensnared by the conspiracies of their rulers, become reluctant allies in a dangerous quest.

Monsters, sorcerers, and treacherous journeys all await Tevi on her quest to find the stolen Chalice. If this isn't enough, her search leads her to join forces with Jemeryl, a tempestuous sorcerer who dreams only of the day when she will have completed her studies and be able to return to the sanctuary of Lyremouth, with her books and her research. It is all very straightforward—until she meets Tevi. Romance, adventure, and intrigue abound. New Revised edition.

Previously issued as Parts One and Two of
Lorimal's Chalice
- the Gaylactic Spectrum Award finalist for best novel of 2003.)

The Exile and the Sorcerer

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Wolfsbane Winter

T
HE
L
YREMOUTH
C
HRONICLES

The Exile and the Sorceror

The Traitor and the Chalice

The Empress and the Acolyte

The High Priest and the Idol

T
HE
C
ELAENO
S
ERIES

The Walls of Westernfort

The Temple at Landfall

Rangers at Roadsend

Dynasty of Rogues

Shadow of the Knife

The Exile and the Sorcerer

© 2006 By Jane Fletcher. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-356-3

This Electronic Book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, New York 12185

New Revised Edition, February 2006

Originally Published as Part One and Part Two of
Lorimal's Chalice,
By Fortitude Press, 2002

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Credits

Editors: Cindy Cresap and Stacia Seaman

Production Design: J. Barre Greystone

Cover Image: Tobias Brenner (http://www.tobiasbrenner.de/)

Cover Design: Julia Greystone

Thanks go to everyone at Bold Strokes Books, especially Rad, Stacia and Cindy, for their support, professionalism and for being great people to work with. I would also like to thank Pam and Ads for helping with earlier drafts of this novel.

In memory of my father

Tom Fletcher

the one who first talked me into reading a book that had no pictures

Predawn light filtered through chinks in the stone walls, so faint it did little more than hint at the sleeping figures. Tevi lay awake on the earthen floor, staring bleakly at nothing, tormented by memories of a dozen miserable events over the past month. A hard day’s work loomed ahead, yet sleep eluded her. She felt utterly alone despite being surrounded by her family. A grimace crossed Tevi’s face at the thought. Her family. She was an enormous disappointment to them. How could she not be? She was an even greater disappointment to herself.

The light strengthened slowly. Then came the wailing of seagulls. Tevi rolled onto her back. There was no point trying to sleep now, and as if hearing her thought, several bodies stirred. A woman by the hearth sneezed and sat up. Whispered words rippled around the hall.

“Hey, who’s taken my boots?” The first loud voice of the morning belonged to Laff. It always did. The question provoked several retorts; the wittiest were greeted by laughter.

Tevi closed her eyes. She did not for a moment think her sister’s boots were missing. It was just Laff’s excuse to be noisy and claim everyone’s attention. What Tevi never understood was why people were so tolerant of her sister, and so irritated if she tried similar childish ploys herself.

A man stepped over Tevi’s legs. She watched him weave towards the hearth, between shifting bodies. He knelt and began coaxing the fire back to life. All around, people were getting to their feet, brushing dust from their clothes, rolling up blankets and sleeping mats. Noise in the hall rose. The double doors were pushed open. A sudden shaft of daylight glittered on eddies of smoke rolling under the thatched roof.

At the centre of the hall, Laff was standing by the hearth, making a show of stretching her muscles while teasing the men preparing breakfast and exchanging boisterous good mornings with the women. Everyone seemed to like her. It was a trick Tevi had never been able to master, no matter how much she tried to emulate her sister.

The differences between them were not in their looks. Both were tall, with brown eyes and straight black hair, hacked short. They had small, oval faces, on the bland side of good-looking, with thin noses and wide, straight lips. But that was where the similarity ended. Laff was loud and assertive, quick to argue, quick to make friends. Tevi was unsure of herself, subdued in company, uncomfortable with the swaggering bravado that other women put so much effort into.
“Weak and soft”
were their mother’s words to describe Tevi. The comparisons with her sister made it worse. Maybe, if Laff had been the firstborn, it might not have mattered that she was the natural leader, but at nineteen, Tevi was the elder by two years.

Tevi sat up and looked around. She was not the last to rise; a few still slept at the edges of the hall. One couple lay nearby with their arms around each other. The man was sprawled lazily on his back. The woman, one of Tevi’s many aunts, was up on an elbow looking down on him. Tevi’s movement caught the aunt’s notice. For a moment, Tevi was subjected to a critical stare before the aunt bent to whisper something in her companion’s ear. The man’s eyes brushed over Tevi as he twisted to giggle into the aunt’s shoulder. Tevi felt a flush rise on her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet and hastened towards the hearth, but she knew she was being oversensitive. Judging by the noises last night, the couple had plenty of topics to laugh about.

Laff had her arm around the waist of the young man she had spent the night with. A selection of cousins were matching her in good-natured banter. Something Laff said made the man blush and raised a howl of laughter from the women. He smiled shyly at Laff, who hugged him closer.

Despite Tevi’s attempt to join the group unobtrusively, Laff noticed her approach and yelped, “Watch out! Don’t tread in the porridge!”

Tevi froze and looked down, but her feet were nowhere near the pot. It was a joke. Laff sniggered.

“You fall for it every time.”

Tevi met her sister’s eyes. “Yes, I know. It’s sad. I always forget that you still have a toddler’s sense of humour and haven’t grown up yet.”

“Oh, I’m quite grown up.” Laff squeezed the young man and asked him playfully, “What do you think?”

“Everywhere except between your ears,” Tevi said.

Laff’s face twisted in a scowl, but their mother’s approach stopped the argument before it could escalate. Red was tall, a trait inherited by both her daughters. Her body had once been strong and agile, before an ill-fated skirmish four years previous. Now she hobbled across the hall, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. Never again would Red lead the war band to victory. Her naturally stern face was creased in pain, but she managed to smile indulgently at Laff. If Red noticed her older daughter, she gave no sign.

A slight bustle announced the emergence of Tevi’s grandmother. As Queen of Storenseg, her status was marked by a wicker partition around her sleeping area. It was the nearest thing to a private room on the island. Two of Tevi’s cousins hovered in attendance while the Queen settled herself on a bench. People paused to nod respectfully in the Queen’s direction before picking up their conversations again. The hubbub flowed from group to group, the friendly family chaos binding everyone in the room from laughing grandmothers to squealing babies—everyone except Tevi.

The group around Laff had subtly closed ranks so that Tevi stood outside. Her mother and grandmother were in conversation. They glanced once in Tevi’s direction, but their expressions were not warm. Nobody else in the hall even looked in her direction. The whole family was happy to ignore her existence.

Tevi considered the porridge heating over the fire. It would be some minutes before it was boiling, but she had no wish to hang around. A nearby basket held several loaves of dark rye bread. She tore off a chunk, dipped its corner in a bowl of honey, and headed for the doorway.

At the entrance, Tevi paused and glanced back. The Queen’s eyes met hers briefly in shrewd appraisal. Once her grandmother had been an ally, but that had changed. Tevi was not sure when, or why, she had lost the Queen’s favour. Now, of the whole island, only Brec was ever on her side. Tevi ducked through the doorway and escaped.

The sky to the east was awash with pink. Sunlight hit obliquely on the surrounding hills. Seagulls overhead called raucously as they wheeled around the valley, and pitched below the sound of their squabbling, the hissing roar of surf carried cleanly on the crisp air.