She stared at it a moment, but she could not relent. In silence, she fastened her veil in place, grateful that it would conceal the defiance in her face, and went forth with murder in her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Eight.
Caelan heard the whispered argument before he heard the bells ringing over the city.
Dragging open his eyes, he saw Orlo standing across the gloomy cellar next to a wall of wooden kegs, gesturing and arguing in a fierce undertone with someone Caelan could not see.
He struggled to lift his head. "Orlo?"
The trainer broke off and came hurrying to his side. "We woke you. I"m sorry."
Caelan frowned up at him in the feeble flicker of candlelight, seeing the anger still stamped on Orlo"s features. He glanced back across the cellar, but could not see the individual who stood motionless in the shadows.
"Who?"
"Hush," Orlo said, wiping his brow with a wet cloth. "Save your strength."
Caelan could feel a strange energy in the room, a force tightly leashed yet powerful. It emanated from the person he could not see, and he was afraid. For a confused moment he was a boy again, bruised and battered after his attempt to run away from school and join the army.
"Elder Sobna?" he said defiantly. "I won"t be punished!"
"Don"t talk," Orlo said gruffly. "You can"t afford to start coughing again."
The energy rippled around the room. It was something he had never encountered before, very ancient, yet no menace lay in it. His initial sense of alarm faded, and he sighed.
Orlo tried to give him water, but Caelan turned his head fretfully from the cup. He beckoned to the person in the shadows.
Orlo gripped his hand and forced it down to his side. "No. You don"t know anything about it. Go back to sleep."
But a figure emerged, robed and hooded in black. "His invitation allows me to enter," a woman"s voice said.
Orlo scowled, putting himself protectively between Caelan and the approaching stranger. "You aren"t wanted here."
Ignoring him, the woman went to the other side of Caelan"s pallet. Her face was smooth and unlined like a girl"s, yet her dark eyes looked old and weary. When she knelt beside him with her hands resting calmly in her lap, he saw how age-gnarled they were.
He stared at her in astonishment. "Penestrican," he said, his voice a weak rasp.
She inclined her head gravely. "I have come to offer you a lesson."
Orlo snorted. "What nonsense is this, woman?"
She glared at him. "Until you learn respect, you will be silent!"
Orlo opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyes widened in alarm, and he raised his hands to his throat.
Alarmed, Caelan tried to sit up and only managed to prop himself up on one elbow. The room spun around him, and he could not breathe. He fell back, dizzy and sweating. "Don"t ... hurt."
"I haven"t hurt him," the Penestrican said grimly, still holding Orlo silent in her spell.
The trainer glared at her and reached for his knife.
"No," Caelan gasped out, trying to intervene.
"Command him to be still," the Penestrican said sternly. "Otherwise, I shall be forced to hurt him."
"Orlo, stop," Caelan said, and broke into a painful fit of coughing.
He felt himself bleeding, the bandage under his back sodden and warm. He seemed to be floating, buoyed up on the pain that was like fire in his chest and back. Then the woman"s hand pressed against his forehead, and his mind cleared anew.
Much of the pain faded to a bearable level.
"Give him water now," she said.
Scowling ferociously at her, Orlo lifted Caelan as gently as he could and held the cup to his lips.
The water was tepid and tasted awful, but it soothed Caelan"s throat. He swallowed more of it thirstily and felt refreshed by the time Orlo eased him down.
"Release him," Caelan whispered.
She compressed her lips tightly for a moment. "Very well. But he must learn respect."
"I vouch for his behavior," Caelan said.
The woman pointed her index finger at Orlo, who touched his throat and coughed. "What is this?" he demanded. "Who is she?"
Caelan frowned, tired of argument. "You waste ... our time," he finally managed. "Respect her."
Defiance filled Orlo"s craggy face, but before he could protest, the Penestrican glanced at him. "Serve Lord Caelan," she said. "Obey him."
"Lord Caelan?" Orlo repeated, his brows shooting up, then he frowned and gave Caelan a long, searching glance.
The Penestrican took Caelan"s hand between her own. "I have come to offer you a lesson, if you will learn."
Her face was growing hazy, merging with the halo of candlelight. Caelan found himself floating again. His lids dropped half shut. "Cold," he murmured.
"He"s losing blood again," Orlo said. "If you have come to cure him, then do-please do it."
"I have come to offer him wisdom," she replied.
"It"s life he needs more than wisdom," Orlo argued.
She smiled. "Are the two not the same thing?" she asked gently. "Will you come with me, Lord Caelan?"
He watched her dreamily as though from far away. "Are you the Magria?" he asked.
"No. I am only a dream walker. Let us walk together."
"Walk?" Orlo interrupted with fresh alarm. "You come to a man who"s half-dead and expect him to go for a stroll? He can"t-"
"Hush," she said, her gaze not shifting from Caelan. "Our walk is well within his powers."
Caelan met her gaze, and felt himself float farther away, sinking slowly into a mist of sleep.
Immediately he dreamed, not the earlier feverish fragments of faces and emotions, but of something calm and soothing.
He found himself standing on a headland overlooking the sea. Sunlight glittered upon its endless gray-green expanse. A strong, salty wind blew Caelan"s hair back from his face. The waves below surged and broke upon the rocks with a restless, potent beauty.
At his back grew a grove of trees, and a single boulder rested upon the gra.s.s. It might have been a favorite sit-down spot for a weary traveler, but an aura of serene power lay over the clearing. Caelan suspected the stone might be a natural altar of sorts.
The dream walker emerged from the trees, her stride graceful and free, her long gray hair spilling unbound down her back in the way of a girl. She smiled as she came to him.
"Welcome to the place of the G.o.ddess mother," she said.
Caelan stood facing her, aware of the crashing sea, the swaying trees, the immovable stone. The power centered in this spot seemed to be growing stronger, as though forces were gathering here around him. He understood now why the power seemed so unfamiliar to him. It was the force of the natural earth, with all her mysteries woven through the cycles of birth, life, and death.
"What must I learn?" he asked humbly.
The Penestrican looked at him with open approval. "You are very respectful, for a man."
He sighed, knowing he must curb his inner impatience and sense of urgency. "That lesson, the Choven taught me. It was not easily learned."
She smiled and spread wide her hands. Her sleeves belled in the wind, and her hair streamed out behind her like a banner. "Look at the stone."
He obeyed her, and after a few moments he heard footsteps.
He glanced up and found himself facing a slim woman with long blonde hair and intense blue eyes. Power and wisdom shone in her face. Her features were beautiful, yet beauty was not the word to describe her. She was as stern as his father had ever been, perhaps more so. Her eyes were like the arch of sky over them, full of infinite mysteries.
"I am the Magria of the Penestrican orders," she said. "You are Caelan, the Light Bringer."
He bowed to her in silence, awed by the power radiating from her. Her youth and beauty were deceptive. This woman was both ancient and ageless. He had no words to describe her.
"There is little time," she said. "Your injury makes this meeting difficult."
He understood that she must be expending tremendous effort to create this beautiful spot where he might walk about in complete health. Were they really in his dreams or far away? The answer mattered less than the situation they confronted.
He did not ask questions.
Shrugging a little, he said, "The dream walker offered me a lesson. What must I learn?"
"You are quick, Lord Caelan."
"I am not a lord," he said, thinking of his humiliation among the Gialtans. He had learned he could not invent a rank for himself and expect other men to accept it.
Impatience crossed her face. "If the G.o.ds grant you a t.i.tle, will you refuse it?"
His eyes widened in surprise. "The G.o.ds?"
She nodded.
He frowned and dropped his gaze, not sure what to think. "I believe such a reward should wait until it has been earned. I have not yet-"
"And Will you tell the G.o.ds what they may or may not do?" she rebuked him with visible amus.e.m.e.nt.
His frown deepened. Embarra.s.sed, he said nothing.
"You need our help," the Magria said, switching subjects swiftly. "The Choven unleashed you on the world, but they enjoy their secrets and mysteries. Now you are in trouble, and where are they? Off busy with forges and chisels, more concerned with creation itself than with what should be done afterward."
"I don"t understand."
"No. Will you accept the help of the sisterhood?"
"Gladly. What-"
"Then pay heed. Tirhin is not the enemy you must defeat."
Caelan looked at her. "I know."
"Good. Then I need not explain."
"Will you tell me how to kill a G.o.d?"
Her eyes flashed. "Where is your faith?"
"I don"t know," he said, refusing to be intimidated. "My faith has always been in my ability to fight. But this is not about physical strength, is it?"
She gestured, watching him closely. "Have you other questions?"
He sighed. "Exoner has been taken from me. It is a sword, forged by the Choven."
"You will need more than a sword to face the darkness," she said severely.
"But this is no ordinary-"
"So your faith lies in a metal blade and your own muscle," she said scornfully. "Little indeed with which to face a G.o.d."
Caelan"s temper began to fray. They could circle, parrying words, forever and come to nothing. "Or perhaps the dark G.o.d hasn"t broken free. Perhaps he isn"t coming. Wouldn"t he have come forth by now if he-"
"You have seen the darkness," she said sharply. "Do you doubt?"
"No," he said, seeing that slim hope sliced away.
"I say again to you that Tirhin is not your enemy. Remember my warning when you go back."