A Taste of Magic Read online

  They talked for an hour or two more, until the sun edged toward the horizon and a bell signaled time for the meal. At dinner, they told stories of battles they’d joined to protect one noble’s property or another, or to defend a village against bandits. All their words were about glorious deeds and honor, and I became ever more prideful that Bastien was my instructor, guardian, and friend.

  Later that night, around the village fires, there were more tales of heroics, and one of the Moonsons sang a ballad about the founding of their order.

  It was a beautiful song. But I could not remember one word of it.

  21

  I walked down the spoke-street, eyes on the Moonsons to either side of the lodge-house door. I took in the other people out this day, a mix of poor and middle-class, mostly workers. Their clothes smelled of old sweat and smoke, and the men looked beaten down by their work. There were few bright expressions. However, I saw a woman holding a baby in the crook of one arm and tugging a toddler along with her free hand. They smelled of soap and honey, and the corners of her mouth were wrinkled from smiling. Her eyes spotted the knives and the chain hanging from my belt, and she gave me a disapproving glare.

  The Moonsons watched as I approached. Though they stood rigid and their heads were forward, their eyes moved, betraying their interest in me. The taller one dropped his hand to the pommel of his sword as a precaution.

  Did they know of me? Recognize me, perhaps from word of my description?

  Was I indeed walking into the trap Nanoo Shellaya had mentioned? I think a part of me hoped so, as I’d been through much and wanted a conclusion to my misery. Those I’d cared about had been slain, and my home was lost to me. Dazon lost. All I had was in a satchel on Crust, the weapons tied to my belt … and my bloodoath.

  “The oak is sturdy, but not as strong as a righteous man,” I said as I neared them. It was a Moonson greeting Bastien had taught me after the visit of the nine. “Do you travel to the west, oak brother?”

  The taller one nodded, his face a mask. “West I travel in spirit,” he answered, his voice mellifluous. “Ever west where the oak was born and where our order grew strong in the tree’s shadow.”

  “West is where warriors gather,” I returned.

  “West is where the world begins and ends in honor,” he finished.

  I kept my face a mask, too, not showing the surprise I felt that he so formally answered my greeting. Clearly, I was no Moonson, and I’d expected him to protest my use of Moonson ritual greeting. Still, I kept my back straight and shoulders squared, my chin tipped slightly up … the posture all the Moonsons displayed.

  About to introduce myself, I swallowed my words. I would tell them my name only if they asked. No need to reveal more than absolutely necessary and invite trouble.

  “Moonsons, you hold a woman inside this lodge house, and I request her release.” I took a deep breath before continuing, and I watched their expressions even more closely. The taller one’s eyes were a dark, shifting gray, the color of the early morning fog that used to settle in the lowest part of the Village Nar’s pasture. The eyes were unblinking. “I ask she come with me now.”

  The Moonsons did not answer my request.

  I set my hands against my hips. “I said, you’ve a woman inside who should be no one’s captive.” I raised my voice a little and gave an edge to my words. At the same time, I reached out with my wyse-sense, wanting to make sure no more men were coming this way. Doubt crept into me. Should I have listened to Nanoo Shellaya? Should this have waited until evening?

  Or did the time of my attempt matter nothing? I was one woman, not an army, and asking for Gafna’s release was the only way to affect it. Force was not the answer.

  “You know our greeting, lady,” the shorter Moonson said. His eyes were so dark brown they could have passed for black, and his chin was scarred from some battle. “And you carry yourself well and sure. What do you know of the Moonsons?”

  “That they are brave and honorable men.” I nearly added, “who should not be guarding a battered, aging Nanoo.” He did not say anything else, and so I tried again. “The woman who is held inside—”

  “Is a prisoner of Lord Purvis of Elderlake,” the scarred man interrupted. “We watch her for him, waiting for his return.”

  A mix of emotions coursed through me. Relief that Lord Purvis was not here; I’d suspected as much from the lack of horses and soldiers, but I hadn’t been certain. Anger that he was not here—as I had my bloodoath to fulfill. Curiosity was the strongest, and the taste of it rested strongly and bitterly on my tongue. Why wasn’t Lord Purvis here? What was he doing?

  “I have not heard of this Lord Purvis,” I said.

  “He commands the Empress’s army, and he is recruiting men now in Derilynn and Tichal.”

  Those were villages to the east, on the other side of the river and near the coast. They were better than a day’s ride from Elspeth’s Knot.

  “And we need tell you no more, Lady…?”

  There, he’d asked for my name. “Wisteria t’Kyros, formerly of the Village Nar.” The last I cursed myself for supplying.

  The taller man’s eyebrows rose. “Lady Wisteria t’Kyros, know you that the woman held within is the prisoner of Lord Purvis, as we’ve explained.”

  “What is she charged with?”

  The scarred man pursed his lips. “Charges have not yet been posted, Lady Wisteria t’Kyros.”

  “Then why—”

  “You can ask Lord Purvis about her crimes when he returns,” the taller finished.

  “And when will he return?”

  “He did not say.”

  I kept my wyse-sense searching, wanting to make sure no more Moonsons—no more people—were approaching. I grew bold and took a risk with my words.

  “Since when do the Moonsons answer to someone like Lord Purvis? If he is the Empress’s man and commands her soldiers, he is not a Moonson. You are above that, above taking orders from someone outside your order.”

  Neither man answered this. They were not like the men I’d met in Bastien’s company. Perhaps not all Moonsons were so honorable.

  “Are you a friend of the woman, Lady t’Kyros? Or some relation?” the scarred man asked.

  “Friend.” After a moment, I added, “A very dear friend.”

  “We will let you see her, Wisteria t’Kyros, out of courtesy to you. But she is not to be freed unless Lord Purvis says so. And you will go in unarmed.”

  Relief flooded me—they would keep their posts and not come inside with me! They were trusting me and keeping to their assignment. I quickly unbuckled my weapons belt and set it against the lodge house, at the side of the taller Moonson. I took off my cloak and draped it on my arm, turned, to let them see I carried no other weapons, then I took a step back and waited.

  The scarred Moonson opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Braxton, this woman has come to see the Nanoo. She may have a few minutes with her.” He turned to me. “We grant you this courtesy, Lady Wisteria t’Kyros, because you have a familiarity with the Moonsons.”

  “I was a docent of Bastien t’Ikkes,” I said as I brushed by him. Perhaps that, too, was something I need not have said.

  They closed the door behind me, and the man inside the lodge house sat straight, taking his feet down from the chair opposite the one his bulk threatened. He wasn’t a Moonson, likely a local from the looks of him, thickset and wearing common clothes that strained at the lacings. He had an ax strapped to his belt, similar to a woodsman’s. I paid him no more attention and strode directly to Gafna.

  My heart seized with each step I took, and I forced down the wyse that brought so much information to me … the scent of her suffering, which threatened to push me deeper into despair. The odor of her dried blood was heavy, as was her anger. I’d not known a Nanoo to be so angered before, but I would have been surprised had she not been furious with her captors and the men who had slayed the villagers of Nar.

  She looked up as I nea
red, her wide, tired eyes searching my face and finding compassion and my own heartbreak. I knelt in front of her and started working on the cords that tied her feet to the chair legs. I saw her hands, also tied, the fingers of the left one ugly and twisted, broken as Lady Ewaren’s had been.

  “Oh, Gafna!”

  “Stop.” The villager Braxton was on his feet and walking toward me. A ponderous man, I heard the protesting creak of the plank floor beneath his heavy-soled boots. “Commander t’Djale said you were to visit, nothing else. She’s to remain tied.”

  I dropped my hands to my sides and inched back, satisfied I’d at least loosened the cords. “My apologies.” I thought to argue with him, saying the Nanoo’s cords were still too tight, that she shouldn’t be so confined. But I knew my words would not free her. Nor would words comfort her. My presence helped, though. Through my wyse-sense I felt her relax, and I sensed some of her anger dissipate.

  “I’ll be watching you, so do nothing foolish.” His tone was insouciant, and that bothered me. “She’s a prisoner, you understand.”

  “I can see that. And obviously a very powerful one, else she’d not be tied like this. She must present a terrible threat to you, this frail-looking woman.” Again, I knew I’d said things I shouldn’t. Bastien had tried to teach me to hold my tongue, to only speak neutrally to strangers, but that was one of his lessons I had trouble following.

  My own anger welled stronger, as Nanoo Gafna’s continued to quiet. Her eyes—I’d never taken my gaze from them—were softer. Her face still had ugly bruises splayed across it, and one of her eyelids was swollen and dark purple. I was amazed she could hold it open.

  Why did they beat you, Nanoo Gafna?

  I thought the words again, forcefully—Why did they beat you, Nanoo Gafna?—hoping she could pull them from my mind. I narrowed my eyes to needle-fine slits, and drew my lips tight. My anger continued to grow with every heartbeat that I looked upon this kind woman. I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms so hard I winced. My stomach roiled.

  Lord Purvis, the demon-of-a-man—I borrowed Alysen’s term for him—ordered this, I knew. All of this, just to find me. There were easier ways to catch me, like waiting in the Village Nar, like posting notices in every village from the fen to the great southern city.

  “He didn’t need to beat you, Gafna. I would have come to confront him. I would not have run. It is not in my nature to run.”

  “Alysen.” She had trouble getting that one word out.

  “She is safe. I made certain of that. The no-see you gave her worked. She is in Mardel’s Fen.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, they were filled with pain—great agony—but not for her own sufferings. They were filled with pain for the people of the Village Nar.

  “Nanoo, Alysen and I…” Tears ran down my face, and again I tasted the salt of nightmares. “Alysen and I, we were the only survivors, Nanoo Gafna. Alysen because of you, the no-see you cast. And I because I’d chosen to hunt and not tell anyone where I ranged. My fault. Everything that happened is because I ranged from the village.”

  She shed tears now, too, clear snakes cutting their course through the dirt and dried blood that covered her cheeks. “Not your fault.” The words were hollow-sounding and dry. She needed water. “Nothing is your fault, Eri.”

  “Had I been there, Nanoo Gafna…”

  She shook her head, the tangle of hair brushing over her shoulders.

  “Show me, Nanoo. What happened. Please.” I knew that Alysen’s words of the attack should have been enough for me, but I knew Gafna could make it all real. I wanted to see Lord Purvis, and Gafna could show him to me. “Please, before the Moonsons declare my visit over.”

  She let out a breath, the sound like a hot breeze blowing across parched ground. She closed her eyes and drew her chin down to her chest, and I heard the big villager step closer, perhaps curious.

  I closed my own eyes, thankful to have the battered image of Nanoo Gafna eased from my sight.

  “Show me,” I whispered.

  And Nanoo Gafna did just that.

  22

  I saw the Village Nar through Gafna’s eyes.

  Lady Ewaren walked near the garden, nodding to Gafna and Willum, making a clicking sound to get her favorite horse’s attention. Gafna turned, following Lady Ewaren’s progress through the village. I felt a concern rising in the witch that was evidenced by Gafna’s uneven breaths and her hand rubbing against her forehead. Things in the distance were blurred, and I realized that was because Gafna’s vision was not so sharp as mine.

  A moment more and I was hearing through the Nanoo’s ears, and drawing in all the scents of the place. I’d left hours before on my hunting expedition, and now through the shared vision I heard Lady Ewaren ask Gafna if she’d seen me.

  Gafna replied no.

  A shiver danced down my arms at the odd sensation of being in another’s body, as if in a dream. It felt as if I responded to Lady Ewaren, but it was Gafna who spoke.

  “Something is wrong, House Lady.” The words were Gafna’s, but my lips moved in time with them. “I had a vision last night, as I slept before your hearth. It was full of foreboding, and I should have heeded its message. But I am getting older, House Lady, and lately have not been giving my visions enough credence.”

  Lady Ewaren smiled, and her eyes sparkled like the sun reflected on water.

  “It is a beautiful day, Nanoo Gafna.”

  Gafna shook her head. “I should have sought counsel from my vision, House Lady. I feel a storm coming. In the air … something untoward races so swiftly our way. I feel…”

  My lips stopped and Gafna’s line of sight was now the road that led into the village from the south. I heard horses, their hooves pounding so hard it reminded me of thunder.

  The storm Gafna mentioned?

  The approaching horses were snorting, being ridden hard, and ours in the pen by the stables raised their heads and whinnied nervously.

  A glance to the stables, and I saw fingers in front of my face—Gafna’s fingers—motioning to Willum. He started putting the horses in the stables.

  “Something is wrong, House Lady. Terribly wrong. This storm is on us.” Gafna put more force into the words this time. I felt my face draw forward into a point, Gafna’s face. Consternation and worry.

  The thundering continued.

  “Eri?” Lady Ewaren persisted. “Where is Wisteria?”

  Gafna shook her head again. “Not here, House Lady, thank the Green Ones. Hunting most likely, as she did yestermorn so very early.”

  “Alysen?”

  Gafna whirled, spying Alysen in the door of the manor. “Alysen is in danger, House Lady. Unlike Wisteria, she has not escaped the coming lightning.”

  “See to her, Nanoo. I’ll deal with the riders, whoever they may be. Keep Alysen safe.” Then I watched Lady Ewaren rush away from Nanoo Gafna, asking the very air questions—what could possibly threaten this village?

  I saw Alysen, Gafna’s fingers wiggling in some gesture at the girl that at first looked as if she knitted invisible strands. A moment more and Alysen faded, becoming translucent, like a reflection in a pool, then gone altogether.

  The no-see spell. Nanoo Gafna knew something horrible indeed was descending on the village. How did she know?

  I tried to ask, but no words came out. I was Nanoo Gafna in the vision and, at my request to her, was forced to see only what she saw. I could not know what she knew. Nor could I ask her questions. That was not the nature of this magic.

  Gafna spun away from where Alysen remained hidden, just as the riders came into the village, horses thundering in through the south gate, past the stables, stopping in front of the manor, the lead horse inches from Lady Ewaren.

  There were more than two dozen riders. No, more than three dozen, I saw, when Gafna turned her head to take in those holding back by the cattle pen. Most of them were soldiers, all of them in what must have been the colors of Lord Purvis. Ther
e were Moonsons with them, too, four Moonsons … none of those four was one of those guarding this lodge house in Elspeth’s Knot.

  “Lady Ewaren.” The voice was rich and compelling, and it came from the man who got off the lead horse. His armor was plate, not the chain the others wore, and braids draped the shoulders of his tabard. He stepped in front of Lady Ewaren, too close to be polite. “I search for someone you shelter in your village, Lady Ewaren. I would have her brought before me … now.”

  So many things happened in the next few moments.

  Soldiers dismounted and drew their weapons. They held by their horses, waiting, eyes trained on their commander.

  The Moonsons looked to one another and began talking among themselves. Their voices were too quiet for Nanoo Gafna—and thereby too quiet for me—to hear.

  “Who do you seek?” Lady Ewaren asked. “Who is so important that it requires so many armed and armored men?”

  Most of the commander’s face was hidden by his full helm, but his lips were visible, and they crept upward in an ugly sneer. I imagined that all of him looked ugly. “Her father … call him most magical, Lady Ewaren. And that magic is strong in her. The wyse, some call it. Where is she?”

  I felt Gafna gasp and saw through her eyes as the man, who could only be Lord Purvis, grabbed the front of Lady Ewaren’s gown with one hand and her hair with the other. He yanked her head back.

  “Where is she, Lady Ewaren?”

  Our House Lady did not answer at first.

  I—Gafna—glanced up and saw a soldier pull Willum from the stables and run him through with a sword.

  “Lightning.” Then Gafna hushed. The blade had struck that fast, shimmering silver in the sun like a bolt of lightning. “The storm.”

  I blinked furiously.

  “Where is she, Lady Ewaren?”

  I barely heard the House Lady’s answer: “I don’t know.”

  Another soldier sliced the throat of the cattleman.

  “Lightning,” Gafna repeated. “The storm destroys us.”

  Another soldier loosed throwstars at a cow, flicking the silver stars away from him as if he were flicking away gnats. The cow bellowed in surprise and pain.