The Summoner (53 page)

“Understood,” Tris replied, abashed.

Taru’s expression softened. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did the right thing, in an unorthodox manner. It worked. However, there are reasons for the methods we teach you.

Things mages have learned the hard way—like exploding scrying balls. Devin and I will confer.

Your level of power creates dangers at this point in your training that would not normally pose a hazard until much later. We must reconsider.”

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Tris said, as Taru helped him sit up and pressed a cup of Carina’s headache tea into his hands.

“No, you can’t,” she agreed. “You cannot afford to be snowbound here. That is one of the reasons I went to confer with my Sisters. They have been monitoring your lessons from afar.

They agree that you have completed nearly all that is possible here at the Library.” She paused.

“All but Argus.”

“Now, there is a new danger,” she said, drawing up a chair and settling herself. She poured herself a cup of the tea, and from her reaction as she sipped, Tris realized she was pushing her own energies as well.

“Because of what happened tonight? Can Jared reach us here? We’re not in Margolan.”

Taru shook her head. “That is true. But we are not yet far enough into Principality for the king’s troops to patrol this area heavily. Arontala will not have a precise bearing on your location, but it will be close enough. The vayash mora tell us that there are already small squads of Margolan soldiers, traveling out of uniform beyond Principality’s borders, searching. If they comb this area, it will make the road to Principality City more dangerous for you.”

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She paused again, deep in thought. “The most dangerous section will be the first day’s ride, from here to Gibbet Bridge. Beyond the crossing, the king’s soldiers patrol the riverbank. I do not think even Jared would dare send troops that far inside another sovereign state. It would mean war.

“Royster will come with you. Given the… unusual circumstances, I have gained the Sisterhood’s permission to take texts with us, so that they may be used in your training. But you have one more task remaining.”

Tris leaned back on his pillow, feeling the full fatigue from the last many weeks. “Mageslayer.”

“That, also, was a part of my consultation with my Sisters,” said Taru. “We are in agreement that you are the rightful bearer. But you must still win the sword.”

“What makes you think that I can succeed?”

“None who have challenged Argus were Summoners.”

Tris thought about that for a moment. “Is it worth the risk? As Jonmarc pointed out, getting myself killed before the main event accomplishes nothing,” he said with a lopsided smile, thinking of Vahanian’s original wording.

Taru must have realized the paraphrase, because a smile hinted at her lips. “Your friend hides his skills well, but there is good reason that the Lady chose him for this purpose.”

“Don’t tell that to Jonmarc,” Tris said, sipping the rest of his tea. “He thinks he makes his own decisions.”

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Taru smiled. “The Lady permits our self‐deceptions where it suits Her purpose,” she replied. “But to your question, we believe the answer is ‘yes.’ I raised that point with the Sisterhood, and there was… debate,” she allowed. “While I do not have great faith, as a general rule, in talismans and amulets, it is not wise to discount their power. Rarely are they sufficient by themselves; yet, the right tool in the hand of the Lady’s chosen becomes a powerful weapon. We believe that Mageslayer has a role in your quest. The risk of failure in Margolan is greater, my Sisters believe, than the likelihood of defeat by Argus.” She paused. “However…”

“However?”

“It would be unwise to underestimate the threat. Once you are rested, it will be time. If all goes well,” she said, “we will leave for Principality City when you return.”

If all goes well, Tris thought, thinking about all that Taru left unsaid. She’s not completely comfortable with this, he thought, watching Taru. She’s not sure that I’m up to it yet, but we’re running out of time. We could go to the city, train further, but there’s the risk we couldn’t get back here. And if we can’t go on without it, then there’s no option. He watched Taru drink her tea. She’s starting to feel boxed in, and the Sisterhood doesn’t like to have their hand forced.

Welcome to my world.

“Please don’t tell the others about the risk,” Tris said, leaning back into the pillows as he felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. “Whatever happens is beyond their control. They’ve come so far, risked so much—I don’t want them to worry.”

Taru removed the extra pillows so he could lie down. “I have already spoken with Carina and Devin. Their assistance may be required. But I will honor your request, although I suspect your companions will figure it out for themselves.”

She might have said more, but Tris could no longer resist sleep and he let it take him, hoping it 456

would be dreamless.

The next evening, Kiara and Carina took dinner in the former’s room. Kiara was still recovering from the scrying, which had left her badly drained. Taru went to bring more herbs for Carina’s salve to soothe the small cuts from the shattered orb. As they waited, Kiara and Carina sipped their tea, lost in thought.

Finally, Kiara spoke. “Taru says it is almost time for us to leave the Library. Then I guess we go on to Principality City.” She saw a look of discomfort cross her cousin’s face. “I know you’d rather avoid that if you could,” she continued, quietly. Carina hesitated, and then nodded.

“It’s just that it… brings back a lot of things I’d rather not remember,” the healer said quietly.

“It’s been seven years since Ric died. I should be over it by now,” she said in a voice above a whisper.

“You know,” Kiara said gently, “even after all this time, you’ve never really told me what happened.”

Carina was silent for a moment, staring into the fire. Finally, she spoke, almost too softly for Kiara to hear. “When we were sixteen, Cam and I signed on with an Eastmark mercenary troop.

He was so big, no one even asked our ages. They needed a healer and were happy to get Cam in the bargain. We made a good living.”

She smiled faintly, her gaze far away. “Ric was the troop’s captain. Best swordsman in the company. He was five years older than we were, and a bit of a rogue,” she chuckled sadly. “He took good care of us. He broke a lot of rules, but he looked out for his men. We’d have gone to the Crone for him.” She paused again, longer this time. “I fell in love. The next winter, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. And then word came that there was some trouble on the Dhasson bor-457

der. Raiders. It was supposed to be an easy skirmish. Only it wasn’t,” she said, looking down.

“They brought Ric back with a bad belly wound. I tried to save him,” she said, her voice thick with self‐condemnation. “I ignored everything I’d ever learned about healing, about going too deep, hanging on too hard. When he died, I nearly went with him.” She looked up at Kiara, tears bright in her eyes. “And I don’t remember a thing after that until I woke up in the citadel of the Sisterhood in Principality,” she said.

“Afterwards, Cam told me it was like I was dead and alive at the same time. Said I couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak, couldn’t see. He was desperate,” she said, looking down again. “The only place he could think to go was the Sisterhood, and he begged them to take me in.” She shrugged. “He said they sent him away and told him they would find him if they succeeded.”

Kiara knew the rest of the story. With nowhere else to go, Cam rode for Isencroft, where Donelan welcomed him. A year later, the Sisters summoned Cam back to Principality City. Carina was healed, but Cam said that she was changed, distant. Kiara suspected that was the reason her cousin had managed to elude any potential suitors—at least, until Jonmarc Vahanian.

“It’s been a long time,” Kiara said quietly. “Things are different now. You’re not alone. You know we won’t let anything happen to you… especially Jonmarc.” She paused. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you.”

Carina blushed and turned away. “You know,” she said, “in the slavers’ camp, when they brought Jonmarc to me and he was so close to death, it was like having it all happen again. If it hadn’t been for Tris, I would have lost him. I felt him slipping away. Tris anchored him. I was scared that if Tris went too deep to hang onto Jonmarc I’d lose them both.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” Carina replied softly. “It’s just so much safer not to care.”

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Kiara got up and walked over to stare out the window for a few moments in silence. The sky was gray and the trees bare. Deep snowfalls would come soon. They were silent for a while, each lost in thought.

“I can’t believe I’ve come this far, only to fail at my Journey,” Kiara said quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Oracle sent me to the Library at Westmarch to find out how to save Isencroft. Everyone else has gotten what they came for. You found out that Cam reached father with the Sisterhood’s elixir, and you’ve found more information to help father recover.”

She sipped her tea. “Tris seems to have found what he needed, even if he will need to study with the Sisters for the rest of the winter. Mikhail found out more about the beasts, Carroway has his tales and songs and legends, even Berry has gotten the stories she wanted. Jonmarc’s had a proper salle to train everyone and some time off the road. But I’m no closer to saving Isencroft than I was when I left,” she said, looking out the window at the barren landscape.

They heard the door latch click as Taru closed the door behind her. “Tell me, Kiara Sharsequin, what you have learned on the road from Isencroft?” the Sister asked, and Kiara was chagrined that the mage had overheard her lament.

“I saw the bloodshed in Margolan and the dispossessed farmers,” Kiara said quietly, remembering. “I’ve seen just what kind of king Jared Drayke is. I’ve met vayash moru and fought magicked monsters and discovered that the Library exists.”

“And your companions? What have you gained from them?”

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Kiara thought longer this time. “I’ve certainly had a good brush‐up on my sword skills from Jonmarc!” she said with a rueful smile. “Mikhail has promised to ask King Harrol for advisors.”

She paused. “He’s also offered to introduce me to King Staden, and help me make a case for Principality’s assistance.”

“And what of Martris Drayke?” Taru pressed.

Kiara looked at her cup as she thought about that answer. “Tris promised me that if he takes the throne, Margolan will pose no threat to Isencroft,” she said softly. “And that he will send whatever help he can.”

Taru nodded once more. “You did not completely answer my question. What have you learned about Martris Drayke himself?”

Kiara blushed and looked away. “He is an honorable man, a brave man, a man of his word. He would make a good king.”

Taru fixed Kiara with the considered stare of a teacher. “Would you have believed those things possible of Jared Drayke’s brother, had you not traveled beside him?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Taru looked at her appraisingly. “And what of your other reason for making the Journey? Your private reason?”

Kiara exchanged glances with Carina, embarrassed. “You mean to avoid the arranged marriage?”

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“Yes.”

“I know for certain just what a demon Jared Drayke is, and what forces are aligning against him,”

Kiara said quietly. “I have Tris’s promise that nothing will be required of Isencroft by force.”

“What did you think to find here, Kiara of Isencroft?” Taru said, gently reproving. “Were you expecting a talisman or a magic book?” Kiara blushed scarlet and said nothing. “You gain pledges of alliance and protection for Isencroft from Dhasson and Margolan, and likely Principality. You are at the center of the effort to bring down Jared Drayke and defeat Arontala—which must succeed to save your father. And you have won a chance for freedom—both for Isencroft and for yourself.”

Taru’s expression softened. “I am not unfamiliar with the language of kings. There is something more you might consider. Such an arrangement may be referred to as between Kiara and Jared, but the formalities would have matched the daughter of Donelan to the heir to the throne of Margolan. Once Jared Drayke is deposed, that heir becomes Martris Drayke,” she said, amusement in her eyes at Kiara’s surprise. “You are now free to follow your heart.”

“We’re really just good friends,” Kiara stammered, embarrassed at Taru’s insight.

“The Oracle told you that from Margolan comes source and solution, did she not?”

“I just never thought that it would be the people and experiences of the Journey that would matter more than what I found at the end,” Kiara said.

“You are not at the end, although your time in the Library is drawing to a close,” Taru replied.

“The Sisterhood is agreed that there is some role the Lady would have you play in the defeat of Arontala. Signs suggest that the effort will be more difficult—or perhaps fail entirely—if your 461

part goes unplayed.”

“Sweet Chenne,” Kiara whispered. “I thought about going on to Margolan with Tris and the others—Carina’s resolved that she must. I wasn’t sure whether I could leave Isencroft that long.”

“Isencroft cannot afford to have you leave this thing undone,” Taru replied.

“I heard Mikhail and Jonmarc talking with Tris,” Carina told Kiara. “They want to get on the road before the snows fall. Mikhail says there are Margolan troops within a few candlemarks, in small groups. Assassins.” Kiara shuddered. “We’re getting boxed in. I’m surprised we haven’t left before this.”

“There is one more thing Tris must finish, before you can leave,” said Taru. “He is ready to enter the crypt of King Argus. Argus’s sword, Mageslayer, must be won in combat.”

“Taru has asked me to be on hand, when he goes,” added Carina.

“To put him back together again if he fails?” “If he fails, he won’t come back, Kiara. That’s the price,” said Carina. “No one who has sought the sword has ever returned. Taru wants me there because we don’t know what kind of shape he’ll be in if he succeeds.”