The Exile and the Sorcerer (40 page)

Jemeryl was swept along. Her paranormal senses intensified the message her other senses were providing. Tevi’s aura was energised with the heat of desire. Her persona crackled with tension.

Jemeryl lifted herself on one elbow. The tip of her forefinger touched the hollow at the base of Tevi’s throat. Jemeryl interwove the contact through the higher dimensions. When she snared the hub of Tevi’s aura, she felt the jolt shoot through the body under her hand and Tevi gasped with the shock. Jemeryl’s fingers traced the ethereal lines of arousal across Tevi’s body, flaring around her breasts, snaking along her thighs and condensing in the pit of her stomach. Tevi’s breathing grew ragged, as if air had to be dragged into her lungs.

Jemeryl’s hand reached the elemental pivot between Tevi’s legs, the focus now of both body and aura. Her fingers slipped into the silky wetness. Tevi’s aura was overloaded, ready to erupt. Her body shuddered in spasms. Jemeryl guided the rising waves, moulding them to the rhythm of Tevi’s breath. Gently, Jemeryl’s fingers entered her. The surge through Tevi’s aura matched the cry that broke from her lips. Tevi was close. It took only the final pressure to send her over the edge.

Jemeryl witnessed Tevi’s climax in seven dimensions. Tevi’s body arched. Her aura... Jemeryl shook her head, regretting the lack of words to describe the effect. If it were sight, it would be blazing blue light. If it were sound, it would be a trumpet. If it were taste, it would be raw alcohol. The experience left Jemeryl herself on the point of release, but it could wait—for a few minutes more.

Tevi buried her face in Jemeryl’s shoulder. Slowly, her breath returned to normal. She rolled back and looked up. Her gaze met Jemeryl’s with an intensity that burned through all the planes of existence. Jemeryl stared back into the pair of grey eyes she had created.

Abruptly, disconcertingly, Jemeryl’s extended time sense intruded. The room broke into a kaleidoscope of seconds; then the world fell back into place. For better or worse Jemeryl knew, with a sorcerer’s certainty, that her life would never be free of the consequences of that night.

The temporal shock when she had met Tevi—the Coven had provoked it, tinkering with time. It had been an attempt to manipulate the future, the train of events starting with the meeting in the castle courtyard, but was it cause or effect? Maybe she and Tevi had always been fated to meet, to become lovers, and the web of fate had dictated the Coven’s action, or maybe it was the tampering that had entwined her destiny with Tevi’s.

Whichever it was, Jemeryl did not care. Lowering her head, she lost herself again in the sensation of Tevi’s mouth on her own.

The pony’s hooves clattered on the cobbles. Tevi made a final check to ensure that the load behind each saddle was secure. Two squirrels perched on the pony’s rump watched eagerly, as if confident that nuts would soon form part of the game. Grinning, Tevi placed her hand on the bedroll and pushed it back and forth in an experimental fashion, testing that nothing would shake loose.

The straps and harness passed the test, but the squirrels complained noisily. Tevi stepped back and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. The joints in her shoulders cracked. The sun had not yet climbed high enough to appear over the battlements, and the courtyard was chilly. Her breath created white clouds in the dawn air.

Tevi flexed her neck, testing the way her body felt. There was a definite change, as if her muscles no longer fit together in quite the same way on her bones. Tevi’s grin widened. Contrary to Jemeryl’s words, she had not been disappointed—surprised once or twice, but most definitely not disappointed. Tevi pressed both hands against her cheeks. It was getting serious. She could not stop grinning, and her face was aching. She tried imagining what her mother would say, an exercise that normally removed any trace of a smile, but today, it only made her want to giggle. She had the feeling her feet were not touching the ground, that her life had shot off on an unfamiliar route, but she was not complaining.

The sound of Jemeryl’s footsteps came from the doorway. The sorcerer appeared, wrapped in warm travelling clothes, with the two bears in retinue. At the sight of her, Tevi’s insides turned to mush. Her first impulse was to rush over and sweep Jemeryl into an embrace, but Tevi hesitated, unsure of herself. Would it be overenthusiastic? Too immature? She waited for Jemeryl to join her before reaching out self-consciously and placing her arms around Jemeryl’s waist.

Jemeryl planted a gentle kiss on Tevi’s lips. “Everything ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s time to go.”

“Do we really have to leave today?”

“I was given a deadline to heal you and quit the valley. My time’s up.”

“Couldn’t you tell them I suffered a relapse?”

Jemeryl muffled her laughter in Tevi’s shoulder. “Don’t tempt me. I’m in enough trouble with Iralin as it is.”

Tevi started to turn away forlornly. Jemeryl pulled her back. “Believe me, I’d love to stay here in the castle, alone with you. But we’ll be together until we find the chalice. With any luck, it’ll take us months...maybe years.”

“It might not.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to drag it out,” Jemeryl said mischievously.

The tone put the smile back on Tevi’s lips. After one last kiss, the pair climbed into the saddles. They rode under the heavy stone gatehouse and into the watery morning sunlight. Ruff and Tumble padded along behind, accompanied by an excited group of squirrels.

The trail led across the ruined outer ward before winding downhill between bushes and broken heaps of stone. Once they were well clear of the castle, Jemeryl reined her pony around. She closed her eyes and muttered softly while her hands made a series of sharp, cutting movements.

Before Tevi’s eyes, a change came over the buildings. The solid timbers of the gate decayed and fell apart. Stones crumbled and fell. A crash resounded as a floor gave way; the boom echoed back from the surrounding hills. The squirrels fled in panic to the shelter of the nearest tree.

“Why did you do that?” Tevi was caught between alarm and surprise.

“Didn’t I tell you the castle was a partial illusion? I just returned it to the state it was in when I found it. Else it wouldn’t have been safe if the villagers came poking around once we’re gone. Now the squirrels can have it all to themselves again.”

Jemeryl turned her pony around and guided it down the trail, leaving Tevi staring in bewilderment at the ruins and trying to come to terms with the idea that she had spent the previous twelve days in a heap of rubble disguised by illusion. It did not make sense. She urged her pony to catch up with Jemeryl’s.

“You can create a castle from a ruin, but we have to ride all the way to Lyremouth on horseback. Can’t you make us fly there or something?”

“Magic isn’t like that. Sorcerers can’t make things happen out of nothing. We have to study the paranormal dimensions and use whatever we find there. For telekinesis to be effective, you need a suitable sixth-dimensional drift pattern. If you can coerce the essence to flow, then the mass in the three normal dimensions follows.”

“What?”

“Flying isn’t easy.”

“The sorcerer in Treviston made a bottle of wine float in the air.”

“You can force things over a short distance, but it’s hard work. Usually, when a sorcerer makes things defy gravity, it’s just to impress the ungifted. It would actually be less effort to move the items by hand.”

“You mean it’s not very useful?”

“It is sometimes. And if you’re lucky with the currents, telekinesis can be impressive—but it doesn’t happen often.”

“Sounds rather haphazard.”

“That’s like a blind person saying sight is haphazard because it doesn’t work well at night.”

The trail passed through a breach in the outer walls. The bracken-covered hillside rolled down to the cultivated fields of the valley floor. The slopes above were covered in pine trees that ended in a ragged line a short distance away. Again, Jemeryl brought her pony to a halt and pointed to the trees. In obedience to her gesture, Ruff and Tumble ambled up the hill, shouldering their way through the coarse vegetation. When they reached the trunks, Jemeryl stood in the stirrups and clapped her hands three times.

As the sound faded, the two bears froze in their tracks; then Ruff shook his head and sneezed. Tumble looked at the branches above her head, whining softly. Back on the path, Tevi’s pony fidgeted restlessly. The crunching of small stones under its hooves made both bears look around. Instantly, they spun back and pelted away into the woods.

Tevi watched them go sadly. “Will they remember us?”

“Just a few confusing details that will make them even more wary of people than normal, which is the way I’d want it,” Jemeryl said firmly. “I’d hate them to wander up to a fur trapper and try to make friends.”

“But Klara comes with us?”

“You bet, sweetheart,” the magpie answered for herself, perched on the pack behind Jemeryl’s saddle.

Jemeryl prompted her pony into a gentle trot down the hillside. “Come on. Let’s go and bid our fond farewells to the villagers.”

*

Late afternoon, three days later, they reached the outlying farms surrounding the town of Rizen. A slow-flowing river looped through waterlogged meadows. In the dwindling light, flocks of sheep grazed on rough pasture. The ragged peaks of the Spur disappeared into low clouds to the west and a light drizzle was falling. The road forded several tributaries running down from the hills. Nobody else was visible on the road, although the track showed signs of much use. Its surface was furrowed with deep ruts from the wheels of farm carts.

Ahead of them, Rizen lay in a wide bend of the river. The heavy defensive walls were a reminder of the days before the area had taken allegiance with the Coven. The drizzle turned to rain as they approached the town gate. Tevi pulled up her hood, grateful that they would be spending the night under a roof.

Three guardsmen were sheltering beneath the stone arch of the gate. They were dressed in the uniform of the town militia, and their hands carried the mercenaries’ red and gold tattoos. They paid far more attention to their own banter than to the approaching riders. Bursts of laughter echoed in the confined space.

Jemeryl halted her pony. “Could you tell me if the sorcerer is in town today?”

The sergeant broke off in mid-sentence and turned around, his mouth set in a self-important sneer. His contemptuous manner lasted a mere fraction of a second. As if incidentally, Jemeryl’s sleeve was pushed back to reveal the black amulet on her wrist. At the sight of it, the sergeant snapped to attention. The other two guardsmen were only an instant behind him.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorcerer Chenoweth is in residence. Please, if you would wait a moment, I will arrange a suitable escort for you.”

“Thank you, that isn’t necessary.” Jemeryl acknowledged the sergeant’s salute with the faintest nod and rode on.

The abrupt change in attitude was not so easy for Tevi to ignore
. Of course. That’s how people respond to sorcerers
, she reminded herself, feeling uncomfortable. The guardsmen’s eyes looked straight through her. There was no response to her friendly smile. Tevi hesitated, tempted to speak, but then urged her pony forward to catch up with Jemeryl.

Substantial timber-framed buildings lined either side of the street. Above the doors hung the signs of a dozen guilds, but none denoted an inn. Tevi was about to suggest they look for lodgings when she caught sight of the red and gold swords of the mercenaries adorning a banner outside a tall building.

“I ought to call in at the guildhall,” Tevi pointed it out. “I should check that Harrick left the payment. I suppose I’d also better explain about the basilisk. I didn’t get paid for it, and I wouldn’t want them to think I was cheating the guild out of its share.”

“Don’t be surprised if they aren’t very pleased.” Jemeryl gave a crooked smile. “As their name implies, the mercenaries don’t go in for acts of charity. But while you’re explaining it, I’ll visit the town sorcerer. It counts as good manners to tell someone when you’re in their area. I’ll pick you up from the guildhall afterwards and we’ll find an inn.”

Tevi slipped out of her saddle and caught the pony’s reins. “I guess I’ll have to hand the pony over as well. It was only on loan. “

“Don’t worry; we’ll get another one.”

“Right.” Tevi shared a last smile before heading off in search of the stable block.

*

Once Tevi was out of sight, Jemeryl continued riding along the street. A fair number of people were about, despite the rain. Most rushed by with their heads down, but those who spotted her amulet stepped aside discreetly, some bowing. Jemeryl barely noticed them. Her thoughts were locked on the imminent meeting with the Rizen sorcerer.

She was not looking forward to the conversation. Jemeryl had met Chenoweth on several occasions and they had not got on well. Jemeryl had found the other sorcerer uninspired and, frankly, not very intelligent. She suspected that Chenoweth thought her both arrogant and unorthodox. Iralin claimed that he had been the one to pass on the bad reports and Jemeryl was sure that he had been prompted more by a desire to upset her than concern for the villagers.

Chenoweth’s home overlooked an imposing square. Jemeryl could not hide her scorn as she looked at it. The place was a monument to a weak imagination. In truth, it was a pleasant townhouse, built in the local style to generous proportions. However, Chenoweth had overlain it with illusion to the extent that it now appeared hideously incongruous with its neighbours. He had turned it into a caricature of a sorcerer’s house. Animated gargoyles guarded the door and multicoloured smoke issued from the chimneys. If it impressed the local population, it implied a sad lack of sophistication on their part.