Stone of Tears

Chapter 20

The sound of her heart pounded in her ears. Struggling to control her panicked breathing, she ducked behind the fat trunk of an old pine, pressing up against the rough bark. If the Sisters had discovered she was following them . . .

The dark, damp air filled her lungs in ragged pulls. Her lips moved soundlessly with prayers to the Creator beseeching protection. With eyes as big as gold pieces, she stared into the darkness and swallowed, trying to wet her throat.

The dark form glided silently closer. She could just see it as she peeked out past the edge of the tree. She suppressed the urge to scream, to run, and prepared herself to fight. She reached for the sweet light; she embraced her Han.

The shadow slipped closer, hesitating, searching. One more step, just one more, and she would spring. She would have to do it right—make sure there was no chance to raise an alarm. It had to be fast, and it would take different kinds of webs, all thrown at once, but if she could be precise and quick, there would be no chance of a scream, no alarm, and she would know for sure who it was. She held her breath.

The dark shape finally took another step. Spinning out from behind the tree, she threw the webs. Cords of air, strong as dock line, whipped around the form. As the mouth came open, she jammed a solid knot of air into it, gagging it, before it had a chance to cry out.

She slumped a little with relief when no sound came forth, but her heart still raced nearly out of control as she gasped for air. With an effort, she managed to bring calm back to her mind, although she maintained a firm grip on her Han, fearful to let her caution slip; there could be others about. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the immobilized shape. When she was close enough to feel its breath on her face, she extended her palm up, and in its center released a thread of fire, to light a tiny flame, just enough to see the face.

“Jedidiah!” she whispered. She pressed her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers feeling the smooth, cool metal of the Rada’Han, and leaned her forehead against his as she closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Jedidiah. You gave me a such a fright.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at his terrified face, lit by the tiny, flickering flame. “I will release you,” she whispered softly, “but you must be very quiet. Promise?”

He nodded, as best he could, considering how tightly she had him bound. She slipped off the webs, pulling out the gag of air. Jedidiah sagged with relief.

“Sister Margaret,” he whispered in a shaky voice, “you very nearly made me soil myself.”

She laughed soundlessly. “I’m sorry, Jedidiah, but you very nearly did the same to me.”

She snipped the thin thread of Han fueling the small flame and they both sank to the ground, leaning against one another, recovering from the fright. Jedidiah, several years younger, was bigger than she, a handsome young man. Painfully handsome, she thought.

She had been assigned to him when he had first come to the palace and she had been a novice. He had been eager to learn, and had studied hard. He had been a pleasure from the first day. She knew others had been difficult, but not Jedidiah. He had done everything she had asked of him. She had only to ask, and he threw himself into it.

Others thought he was more eager to please her than to please himself in what he did, but none could deny that he was a better student than any other, and was becoming a better wizard, and that was all that mattered. This was one area where the results were what counted, not the method, and she had quickly earned her full Sisterhood for the way she had brought him along.

Jedidiah had been more proud of her than she had been of herself when she had been named a Sister of the Light. She was proud of him, too; he was probably the most powerful wizard the palace had seen in a thousand years.

“Margaret,” he whispered, “what are you doing out here?”

“Sister Margaret,” she corrected.

“No one is around.” He kissed her ear.

“Stop that,” she scolded. The tingle from the kiss ran all the way down her spine; he had added a wisp of magic to the kiss. Sometimes she wished she hadn’t taught him that. But other times she ached to have him do it. “Jedidiah, what are you doing here? You have no business following me, following a Sister, out of the palace.”

“You’re up to something, I know you are, and don’t you try to tell me you’re not. Something dangerous. At first, I was only a little concerned, but when I realized you were headed out into the Hagen Woods, I became frightened for you. I’m not going to let you go wandering into a dangerous place like this. Not by yourself anyway. Not without going along to protect you.”

“Protect me!” she whispered harshly. “Might I remind you of what just happened? You were helpless in a heartbeat. You weren’t able to fight off even a single one of my webs. You weren’t able to break one of them. You are hardly able to touch your Han, much less use it effectively. You have a lot to learn before you are wizard enough to go around protecting anyone. It’s all you can do at this point to keep from stepping on your own feet!”

The rebuke silenced him. She didn’t like to reprimand him so harshly, but this was far too dangerous for him to be involved in, if what she suspected was true. She feared for him, and didn’t want him hurt.

The things she had said weren’t entirely true, either. He was already more powerful than any Sister, when he could bring everything together properly, even though that wasn’t often. Already, there were Sisters who were afraid to push him too far. She could feel him look away.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” he whispered. “I was afraid for you.”

Her heart ached at the hurt in his voice. She kept her head close to his so they could speak in soft whispers. “I know you are, Jedidiah, and I appreciate your concern, I really do. But this is Sister business.”

“Margaret, the Hagen Woods are a dangerous place. There are things in here that could kill you. I don’t want you in here.”

The Hagen Woods were indeed dangerous. They had been for thousands of years, and had been left that way by decree of the palace. As if they could do anything about it.

It was said the Hagen Woods were a training ground for a very special kind of wizard. That kind of wizard was not sent there, but went in by choice. Because he wanted to. Craved to . . . needed to.

But that was only what was said. She knew of no wizard going off to spend time in the Hagen Woods, at least not for the last few thousand years. If it was true any ever did. The tales said that in ancient times there were wizards of that kind, with that much power, and that they went into the Hagen Woods. Few ever came out, it was also said. But there were rules, even to this place.

“The sun didn’t set while I was here. I came after dark. If you don’t let the sun set on you in the Hagen Woods, you can leave, and I don’t intend to stay long enough for the next sun to set on me. It’s safe enough. For me, anyway. I want you to go home. Right now.”

“What’s so important that you would go in here? What are you doing? I expect an answer, Margaret. A truthful answer. I won’t be put off. There is danger for you in this and I won’t be put off.”

She fingered the finely worked gold flower she kept on a chain around her neck. Jedidiah had made it for her himself, not with magic, but with his own hands. It was a morning glory, meant to represent his awakening awareness of the gift, an awareness she had helped to blossom. That little gold flower meant more to her than anything else she had.

She took up his hand and leaned against him. “All right, Jedidiah, I will tell you. But I can’t tell you all of it. It’s too dangerous for you to know everything.”

“What’s too dangerous? What can’t you tell me?”

“Be quiet and listen, or I will send you back right now. And you know I can do it.”

His other hand went to the collar. “Margaret, you wouldn’t do that. Tell me you wouldn’t do that, not since we have been . . .”

“Hush!” He fell silent. She waited a moment to be certain he was going to stay hushed before she went on. “I have suspected for a time that some of the ones with the gift who have gone away, or died, have not done so as it has been put to us. I think they have been murdered.”

“What!”

“Keep your voice down!” she whispered angrily. “Do you want to get us killed, too?” He fell silent once more. “I think something awful is going on in the Palace of the Prophets. I think some of the Sisters murdered them.”

He stared at her in the darkness. “Murdered? By Sisters? Margaret, you must be crazy to even suggest such a thing.”

“Well, I’m not. But everyone would think I was if I were to say such a thing aloud inside the palace walls. I have to figure out a way to prove it.”

He thought a moment. “Well, I know you better than anyone, and if you say it’s true, then I believe you. I’ll help. Maybe we could dig up the bodies, find something to go against what was said about their deaths, find somebody who saw something. We could carefully question the staff. There are ones I know who . . .”

“Jedidiah, that’s not the worst of it.”

“What could be worse?”

She held the gold flower in the crook of a finger and rubbed her thumb against it. Her voice came even lower than before. “There are Sisters of the Dark in the palace.”

Even without being able to see him in the darkness, she knew bumps were running up his arms. The night bugs chirped around them as she watched the dark shape of his face. “Margaret . . . Sisters of the . . . that can’t be. There is no such thing. That is only a myth . . . a fable.”

“It is no myth. There are Sisters of the Dark in the palace.”

“Margaret, please don’t keep saying that. You could be put to death for making an accusation like that. If you accuse a Sister of that, and can’t prove it, you would be put to death. And you can’t prove it because it isn’t possible. There is no such thing as a Sister of the . . .”

He couldn’t even say the words. The thought of it frightened him so much, he couldn’t even say it out loud. She knew his fear. She had felt it herself until she had happened on things she could no longer ignore. She wished she hadn’t gone to see the Prophet that night, or at least not listened to him.

The Prelate had been angry that Margaret wouldn’t give the Prophet’s message to one of her aides. When she had finally granted an audience, the Prelate had only stared blankly at her and asked what the “pebble in the pond” was. Margaret didn’t know. The Prelate had lectured her sternly for bothering her with Nathan’s nonsense. Margaret had been furious at Nathan when he had denied remembering giving any such message for the Prelate.

“I wish it were as you say, but it is not. They’re real. They are among us. They are in the palace.” She watched the dark shadow of him a moment. That’s why I’m out here. To get the proof.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“They’re out here. I followed them. They come out into the Hagen Woods to do something. I’m going to find out what.”

His head turned about, searching the darkness. “Who? Which Sisters? Do you know which ones?”

“I know. Some of them anyway.”

“Which ones are they?”

“Jedidiah, I can’t tell you. If you knew, and you made even the slightest mistake . . . you would not be able to defend yourself. If I’m right and they really are Sisters of the Dark, they would kill you for knowing. I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt. I won’t tell you until I go to the Prelate’s office with the proof.”

“How do you know they are Sisters of the . . . And what proof have you? What proof could you get?”

She searched the darkness for any sign of danger. “One of the Sisters has something. A thing of magic. A thing of dark magic. I saw it in her office. It’s a little statue. I noticed it one time because she has a number of things, old things everyone thinks are just ancient curiosities. I had seen it before, and like all the rest of the things, it was covered with dust.

“But this one time, after one of the boys died, I went to her office to talk to her about it, about her report. That little statue was tucked back in a corner, with a book leaning against it, hiding it, and it wasn’t covered with dust. It was clean.”

“That’s it! This Sister dusted a statue, and you think . . .”

“No. No one knows what that statue is. After I saw she had dusted it, I had reason to question what it was. I had to be careful, not let anyone know what I was up to, but I finally found out what it is.”

“How? How did you find out?”

She remembered her visit to Nathan, and her vow never to reveal how she had learned what that statue was. “Never you mind. That is not for you to know.”

“Margaret, how could you . . .”

She cut him off. “I said I’m not telling you. And it isn’t important anyway. What is important is what the statue is, not how I found out about it. It’s a man holding up a crystal. The crystal is quillion.”

“What’s quillion?”

“It’s an exceedingly rare magic crystal. It has the power to bleed the magic from a wizard.”

The surprise of that left him speechless for a moment. “How do you know it’s quillion, if it’s so rare? How would you be able to recognize it? Maybe it is just some other crystal that looks similar.”

“That might be true if it hadn’t been used. When quillion is used to bleed the magic from a wizard, it glows orange with the power of his gift, his Han. For just a brief second as I left her office, I saw that statue, all clean, hiding behind that book. The quillion was glowing orange. But that was before I knew what it was. After I found out, I went back, to take it to the Prelate, as proof, but it no longer was glowing.”

“What could that mean?” he whispered in a fearful voice.

“It means that the wizard’s power had passed out of the crystal, into somebody. A host. Quillion is just a vessel for the gift until it can be placed into someone else. Jedidiah, I think the Sisters are killing those with the gift, and stealing it for themselves. I think they are absorbing the power into themselves.”

His voice trembled. “On top of what they already are? They now have the power of a wizard’s gift?”

She nodded. “Yes. That makes them more dangerous than we could even believe, more powerful than we can imagine. That’s what scares me the most, not being put to death for making the accusation, but being found out by these Sisters. If they really are taking the power into themselves, I don’t know how we can stop them. None of us can match them.

“I need proof, so the Prelate will believe me. Maybe she will know what to do. I certainly don’t.

“What I can’t understand is how the Sisters are absorbing the gift from the quillion. The gift of a wizard, his Han, is male. The sisters are female. A female can’t just absorb the male Han. It’s not that simple; otherwise they would simply have bled the Han into themselves when they killed him. If they are really taking the Han from the males into themselves, I don’t know how they’re doing it.”

“So what are you doing out here?”

She folded her arms against an inner chill, even though the air was warm. “Do you remember the other day, when Sam Weber and Neville Ranson had completed all the tests and were to have their collars off and leave the palace?”

He nodded in the dark. “Yes. I was really disappointed because Sam had promised to come say good-bye, and show me he had his Rada’Han off. I wanted to wish him well after he was a true wizard. He never came. They told me he left in the night, because he didn’t want any tearful good-byes; but Sam was my friend, he was a gentle person, a healer, and it just wasn’t like him to leave in that fashion, without telling me good-bye. It just wasn’t. I was hurt he didn’t come by. I really wanted to wish him well.”

“They killed him.”

“What?” He sagged down a little. “Oh, dear Creator, no.” His voice broke with tears. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The day after he supposedly left in such a strange manner, I suspected something terrible had happened. I went to see if the quillion was glowing again, but the door was shielded.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Sisters shield their rooms or offices sometimes. You do it yourself when you don’t want to be disturbed, like when we are together.”

“I know. But I wanted to see the quillion, so I waited around a corner, until the Sister came to her office. I came out from where I waited, timing it so that as I walked past, she would be entering. As I went by, and just before she closed the door behind herself, I saw into her dark office. I saw the statue on the shelf behind the book. It was glowing orange. I’m sorry, Jedidiah.”

His voice lowered with anger. “Who was it? Which Sister?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Jedidiah. Not until I can take proof to the Prelate. It’s too dangerous.”

He thought a moment. “If this crystal really is quillion, and it would prove what she is, why wouldn’t she hide it better?”

“Maybe because she didn’t think there was a chance of anyone knowing what it was. Maybe because she isn’t afraid and doesn’t take the time to be any more careful than she thinks necessary.”

“Then let’s go back, break the shield, get the cursed thing and take it to the Prelate. I can break the shield, I know I can.”

“I was going to do that myself. I went back to do it tonight, but the room wasn’t shielded anymore. I snuck in to take the statue, but it was gone. That was when I saw her leaving the palace, and I saw others leaving too. I followed them out here.

“If I can steal the quillion while it’s glowing, I can prove they are Sisters of the Dark. I have to stop them before they can suck the life out of anyone else. Jedidiah, they’re murdering people, but worse, I fear the reason they are doing it.”

He let out a soft sigh. “All right. But I’m going with you.”

She gritted her teeth. “No, you are going back.”

“Margaret, I love you, and if you send me back to worry all alone, I will never forgive you. I’ll go to the Prelate myself and make the accusation, to bring you help. Though I may be put to death for making the accusation, I know it would raise suspicions, and maybe an alarm. That’s the only other way I’ll be able to protect you. Either I go with you, or I go to the Prelate; I promise you I will.”

She knew he was telling the truth. Jedidiah always kept his promises. Powerful wizards always did. Rising to her knees, she leaned over and put her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Jedidiah.”

She kissed him deeply as he rose up on his knees to meet her. His hands went under the back of her dress and he gripped her bottom, pulling her against him. The feeling of his hands on her flesh made her moan softly. His hot lips kissed her neck and then her ear, sending shimmers of magic tingling through her. His knee forced her legs apart, giving his hands access to her. She gasped at the contact.

“Come away with me now,” he whispered in her ear. “Let’s go back, and you can shield your room and I’ll give you more until you scream. You can scream all you want and no one will hear you.”

She pushed away from him and pulled his hands out from under her dress. He was breaking down her resistance. She found she had to force herself to stop him. He was using his magic to seduce her away from the danger, trying to save her by drawing her away. She knew that if she let it go on for another second, it would work.

“Jedidiah,” she panted in a hoarse whisper, “please don’t make me have to use the collar to stop you. This is too important. Lives are at stake.” He tried to reach out to her once more, but she sent a cord of power through her hands on his wrists to stop him. She firmly held his hands away.

“I know, Margaret. Your life is one of them. I don’t want anything to harm you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

“Jedidiah, this is more important than my life. This is about the lives of everyone. I think this is about the Nameless One.”

He froze stiff. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why do you think these Sisters want this power? What do they need with it? Why would they be willing to kill for it? To what end? Who do you think Sisters of the Dark serve?”

“Dear Creator,” he whispered slowly, “don’t let her be right.” His hands came up and held her by her shoulders. “Margaret, who else knows these things? Who have you told?”

“Only you, Jedidiah. I know who four, maybe five, of the Sisters of the Dark are. But there are others, and I don’t know who they are. I don’t know who I can trust. There were eleven I followed out here tonight, but there could easily be more.”

“What about the Prelate? Maybe you shouldn’t go to her, she could be with them.”

She shook her head with a sigh. “You may be right, but it’s the only chance we have. There is no one else I can think of who can help me. I have to go to her.” She touched her fingertips to his face. “Jedidiah, please go back. If anything were to happen to me, then you would be able to do something. There would be someone who knew.”

“No. I won’t leave you. If you make me go back, I will tell the Prelate. I love you. I would rather die than live without you.”

“But there are others to think of. Other lives at stake.”

“I don’t care about anyone else. Please, Margaret, don’t ask me to leave you to this danger.”

“Sometimes you can be infuriating, my love.” She took his hands up in hers. “Jedidiah, if we are caught . . .”

“If we are together, then I accept the risk.”

She twined her fingers through his. “Then be my husband? As we have talked about? If I die tonight, I want it to be as your wife.”

He put a hand behind her head and drew her against him. Pulling her hair away from her ear he whispered softly into it. “That would make me the happiest man in the world. I love you so much, Margaret. But how can we be married here, now?”

“We can say the words. Our love is all that counts, not some other person saying words for us. Words coming from our hearts will bond us better than anyone else could do.”

He squeezed her tight. “This is the happiest moment in my life.” He pulled back, taking up her hands again. In the darkness they looked at each other. “I, Jedidiah, pledge to be your husband, in life and in death. I offer you my life, my love, and my eternal devotion. May we be bonded in the Creator’s eyes and heart, and in our own.”

She whispered the words back to him as tears streamed down her cheeks. She had never been so afraid and so happy in all her life. She shook with the need of him. When they finished the words, they kissed. It was the most tender, loving kiss he had ever given her. Tears continued to run down her face as she pressed against him, against his lips. Her hands clutched the back of his broad shoulders, holding him to her. His arms around her made her feel safer and more loved than she had ever felt. At last, they parted.

She struggled to catch her breath. “I love you, my husband.”

“I love you, my wife, always and forever.”

She smiled. Even though she couldn’t see it in the dark, she knew he was smiling, too. “Let’s go see if we can get some proof. Let’s see if we can put a stop to the Sisters of the Dark. Let’s make the Creator proud of the Sisters of the Light, and a wizard-to-be.”

He squeezed her hand. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. Promise me you won’t try to do anything that might get you killed. I want to spend some time with you in bed, not the woods.”

“I need to see what they are up to. See if I can find a way to prove all this to the Prelate. But they are more powerful than I am, to say nothing of the fact that there are at least eleven of them. On top of that, if they truly are Sisters of the Dark, they have the use of Subtractive Magic. We have no defense against that.

“I don’t know how we are to get the quillion away from them. Maybe we will see something else that will help us. If we just keep our eyes open, and let the Creator guide us, maybe He will reveal what it is we can do. But I don’t want either of us taking any more of a chance than we have to. We must not be discovered.”

He nodded. “Good. That’s the way I want it too.”

“But Jedidiah, I’m a Sister of the Light. That means I have responsibilities, responsibilities to the Creator, and all his children. Though we are now husband and wife, it’s still my job to guide you. In this, we are not equals. I’m in charge, and I will only allow you to go with me if you promise to abide by that. You are not yet a full wizard. If I tell you something, you must obey. I’m still better with my Han than you are with yours.”

“I know, Margaret. One reason I wanted to be your husband is because I respect you. I wouldn’t want a weak wife. You have always guided me, and that will not change now. You’ve given me everything I have. I will follow you always.”

With a smile, she shook her head. “You are a marvel, my husband. A marvel of the best kind. You will make a remarkable wizard. Truly remarkable. I’ve never told you, because I always feared you would let the knowledge swell your head, but some of the Sisters say that they think you may prove to be the most powerful wizard in a thousand years.”

He didn’t speak, and she couldn’t see his face, but she was sure he was blushing. “Margaret, your eyes are the only ones I need to see filled with pride.”

She kissed his cheek, and then took his hand. “Let’s go see how we can put a stop to this.”

“How do you know where they went? How can we follow them? It’s dark as pitch in these woods. The trees hide the moon.”

She pinched his cheek. “A trick my mother taught me. I’ve never shown it to anyone. When I saw them leaving the palace, I cast a pool of my Han at their feet. They stepped through it. It leaves tracks of my own Han. Only I can see them. Their footprints are as bright as the sun on a pond to me, but to no other.”

“You must teach me this trick.”

“Someday, I promise. Come on.”

She led him by the hand as she followed the glow of the Sisters’ footprints through the dense woods. Distant night birds called in haunting voices, owls hooted, and other creatures made low screams and clicks. The ground was uneven, tangled with roots and brush, but the glowing footprints helped her to see the way.

The damp heat made her sweat, causing her dress to cling to her wet skin. When she got home, she would shield her room and she would have a bath. A long bath. With Jedidiah. Then she would let him use his magic on her, and she would use hers on him.

They went deeper into the Hagen Woods, deeper than she had ever gone before. Vapor drifting from boggy areas carried the pervasive stench of rotting vegetation. They passed through dark gullies veiled with hanging roots and moss that brushed against her face and arms, making her flinch at the unexpected contact. The footprints led up and over sparsely wooded, rocky ridges.

At the top of one, standing in the still, damp air, she looked back, out across the somber landscape. In the far distance, she could see the flickering lights of Tanimura, and set among the lights, rising up in the silvery moonlight, the Palace of the Prophets, its dark shape blocking out the lights of the city beyond.

She longed to be back there, to be home, but this was something that had to be done. There was no one else to do it. The lives of everyone depended on her. The Creator was depending on her. Still, she longed to be home, and safe.

But home was no longer safe. It was as dangerous as the Hagen Woods, if there really were Sisters of the Dark. Even with as much as she knew, it was difficult for her to accept the idea. The Prelate had to believe her, she just had to. There was no one else she could turn to for help. She wished there were even just one Sister she could trust, confide in, but she didn’t dare trust anyone. Nathan had warned her not to trust anyone.

Even though she wished Jedidiah were home, and safe, she was glad to have him with her. She knew there was nothing he could do to help, but it still felt good to have him to confide in. Her husband. She smiled at the thought. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him. She would protect him with her life, if she had to.

The ground pitched into a descent. Through gaps in the trees, she could see they were going down into a deep bowl in the earth. The edge was steep and they had to move slowly so as not to send any rocks tumbling through the woods. One started to slide as her foot touched it, and she quickly used a handful of air to stop it, and then push it firmly into the ground. She sighed in relief.

Jedidiah followed her, a silent, comforting shadow. Her tension relaxed a little when they passed from the loose rock, back into denser woods where the ground was mossy and silent to step on.

The faint sound of chanting drifted to them through the thick woods, carried on heavy, fetid air. Low, rhythmic, guttural tones of words she couldn’t understand resonated in her chest. Even without understanding the words, she felt revulsion at them, as if they made the air reek.

Jedidiah gripped her upper arm, dragging her to a halt. He put his mouth close to her ear. “Margaret, please,” he whispered, “let’s go back now, before it’s too late. I’m afraid.”

“Jedidiah!” she growled as she reached up and snatched him by the collar. “This is important! I’m a Sister of the Light. You’re a wizard. What do you think I’ve been training you for? To stand on a street down in the market and perform tricks? To have people throw coins at you? We serve the Creator. He has given us everything we have so we may use it to help others. Others are in danger. We must help. You’re a wizard. Act like one!”

She could just see his wide eyes in the faint light. He sagged slightly as the tension went out of his muscles. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Forgive me. I will do what I must, I promise.”

Her anger cooled. “I’m afraid, too. Touch your Han, keep a firm grip on it, but not too tight. Hold it so you can release it in an instant, as I’ve taught you. If anything happens, don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid of how much you might hurt them. If you do need your power, anything less than all of it will not be enough. If you keep your head, you’re strong enough to defend yourself. You can do it, Jedidiah. Have faith in what I’ve taught you, what all the Sisters have taught you. Have faith in the Creator, in what He has given you. You have it for a reason, we all do. This may be the reason. Tonight may be what you’ve been called for.”

He nodded again and she turned back to the glowing footprints, following them into the thick forest. They wandered through the trees toward the center of the bowl, toward where the chanting was coming from. The closer they got, the more the voices made her skin prickle. The voices were Sisters’. She thought she recognized some of them.

Dear Creator, she prayed, give me the strength to do what I must to help you. Give Jedidiah strength, too. Help us serve you, to help others.

Little flickers of light came through the leaves. They crept closer. The trees around her were huge. The two of them glided from one trunk to another, no longer following the footprints. They could see glimpses now of something through openings in the underbrush. Slowly, they tiptoed forward across the open forest floor beneath large, spreading spruce trees. The needles were soft and quiet to walk on. Shoulder to shoulder, they slid behind low, heavy brush at the edge of woods. It was as close as they could go. Beyond lay a flat, round, open area.

At least a hundred candles were set on the ground in a ring, like a fence, or boundary, as if holding back the dark forest. Inside the candles was a circle drawn on the ground. It looked to be made of white sand that sparkled with little points of prismatic light. It looked like the descriptions of sorcerer’s sand she had heard, although she had never actually seen any. It stood out clearly in the candlelight, and the light of the moon overhead.

Symbols were drawn with the same white sand. They were inside the circle, points of them touching the outer boundary of the circle at irregular intervals. Margaret had never seen the symbols before, but she knew some of the elements of them from an old book. They spoke to the underworld.

About halfway in from the outer white line and candles, eleven sisters sat in a circle. Margaret stared harder, trying to see in the dim, flickering light. It looked as if each had a hood over her head, with holes cut for the eyes. They chanted in unison. Shadows from the Sisters extended inward to a point in the center.

In the center lay a woman, naked, except for a hood like the others. She lay on her back, her hands crossed over her breasts, her legs pressed together.

Twelve. With the one in the center, that made twelve. She searched the circle of Sisters again. Even with the candles, it was still dark, and the candles were to the Sisters’ backs.

Her eyes stopped on a form on the opposite side of the circle. Her breath caught in her throat. That form was larger than the rest. It was hunched, its head lowered, and without a hood. It sat at a convergence of lines in the symbols.

It was not a Sister. With a start, she saw the faint orange glow. The statue with the quillion was resting in its lap.

She and Jedidiah crouched, frozen, watching the circle of Sisters as they chanted. After a time, one of them, to the side of the hunched form, stood. The chanting stopped. She spoke short, sharp words in a language Margaret didn’t know. At points in the speech, her hand shot into the air, flinging sparkling dust over the naked woman in the center. The dust ignited, bathing the hooded Sisters with brief, harsh light. At the flash, they all answered with odd, rhyming words. She and Jedidiah exchanged looks, her own confused, frightened feelings reflected in his eyes.

The standing Sister flung both hands up, calling out a list of strange words. She went to the naked woman, stood at her head, and threw up her arms again. The sparkling dust caught fire once more. This time, the orange glow from the quillion brightened.

The head of the hunched form slowly rose. Margaret made a silent gasp when she saw the face of the beast. Its fanged mouth opened with a low growl. The Sister drew a delicately wrought silver scepter from her cloak, and gave it sharp shakes as she chanted again, sprinkling water over the prone woman.

Something was happening to the quillion. It brightened, and then dimmed. The dark eyes of the beast watched the naked woman. Margaret stared, wide-eyed. Her heart pounded so hard it felt as if it would tear a hole in her chest.

As the quillion faded, the beast’s eyes began to glow orange—the same color orange as the quillion. As the quillion dimmed, the glow in the beast’s eyes intensified, until the little statue was dark, and the thing’s eyes shined bright.

Two more Sisters stood. They moved to each side of the first.

The first knelt. Her hooded head lowered, looking down to the naked woman. “It is time, if you are sure. You know what must be done; the same as has been done to us. You are the last to be offered the gift. Do you wish to accept it?”

“Yes! I’m entitled. It’s mine. I want it.”

Margaret thought she knew both voices, but she wasn’t sure because the hoods muffled their words.

“Then it shall be yours, Sister.” The other two knelt beside her as she pulled a cloth from her cloak, twisting it between her fists. “You must pass this test of pain to gain the gift. We cannot touch you with our magic while it is being done, but we will help you as best we can.”

“I will do anything. It’s mine. Let it be done.”

The naked woman spread her arms. The sisters to each side leaned with all their weight on her wrists.

The Sister at her head held the twisted cloth over the hooded face. “Open your mouth, and bite down on this.” She put the cloth between the woman’s teeth. “Now, open your legs. You must keep them open. If you try to close them, it will be a rejection of what you are being offered, and you will lose the chance. Forever.”

The naked woman stared fixedly up at nothing. She panted with fear, her breast heaving. Slowly, she spread her legs.

The beast stirred, giving a low grunt.

Margaret gripped Jedidiah’s forearm, her fingers digging into him.

The beast sniffed the air. As it slowly unfolded itself, Margaret saw that it was larger than it had looked when it was all hunched over. It was powerfully built, looking mostly like a man. Flickers of candlelight reflected off sweat-slicked, knotted muscles of its arms and chest. Downy hair started at the narrow hips, growing coarser farther down the legs, to the ankles, where it was the longest, thickest. But the head was something other than a man. It was a horror of anger and fangs.

A long, thin tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The eyes glowed orange in the dim light, orange with the power of the gift it had absorbed from the quillion.

As it stretched out on its hands and knees toward the naked woman, Margaret almost gasped aloud; she recognized the beast. She had seen a drawing of it in an old book. The same book in which she had seen drawings of some parts of the spells before her. She wanted to scream.

It was a namble. One of the Nameless One’s minions.

Oh, dear Creator, she prayed fervently, please protect us.

Growling in a low rumble, its powerful muscles flexing, its haunted eyes glowing orange, the namble edged like a huge cat toward the woman on the ground. Head low, it crawled between her legs. In a state of ragged fear, the woman still stared up at nothing.

The namble sniffed at her crotch. Its long tongue flicked out, running over her. She flinched, making a small jerk of a sound against the cloth in her teeth, but she kept her legs open. Her eyes did not move. She did not look at the namble. The Sisters in the circle began a soft chant. The namble licked her again, slower, grunting this time as it did so. She squealed against the rag. Beads of sweat shimmered on her flesh. She kept her legs wide apart.

Rising up on its knees, the beast gave a throaty roar to the black sky. Its pointed, barbed, erect phallus stood out, plainly silhouetted against the candles beyond. Muscles bulged in knotted cords along its arms and shoulders as the namble bent forward, putting a fist to each side of the woman. Its tongue licked out around her throat as it gave a vibrating rumble of a growl, and then it lowered itself, covering her with its massive form.

Its hips hunched forward. The woman’s eyes winced shut as she screamed against the cloth in her teeth. The namble gave a quick, powerful thrust and her eyes snapped open in a panic of pain. Even with the cloth clenched in her teeth, her screams could be heard over the chanting each time the beast knocked the wind from her, adding more force to the shrieks.

Margaret had to force herself to take a breath as she watched. She hated these women; they had given themselves over to something unspeakably evil. Still, they were her Sisters, and she could hardly bear to watch one being hurt. She realized she was shaking. She clenched the gold flower at her neck in one fist and Jedidiah’s arm with her other as tears streamed down her face.

The beast thrashed at the Sister on the ground as the three Sisters held her. Her muffled screams of torment ripped at Margaret’s heart.

The Sister holding the cloth finally spoke. “If you want the gift, you must encourage him to give it to you. He will not surrender it unless you overcome his control—unless you take it from him. You must win it from him. Do you understand?”

Crying, her eyes shut tight, the woman nodded.

The Sister pulled the cloth away. “Then he is yours now. Take the gift, if you will.”

The other two released her arms and the three of them returned to their places in the circle, taking up the chanting with the others. The woman let out a wail that turned Margaret’s blood to ice. It made her ears hurt.

The woman flung her arms and legs around the namble, clutching herself to it, moving with it, moving with the chanting. Her screams died away as she panted with the effort.

Margaret could watch no longer. She closed her eyes and swallowed back a wail of her own that tried to force itself from her throat. But even with her eyes closed, it was no better. She could still hear it. Please, dear Creator, she begged in her mind, let it end. Please let it end.

And then, with a husky grunt, it did. Margaret opened her eyes to see the namble still, its back hunched. It shuddered, and then slowly went limp. The woman struggled to breathe under its weight.

With strength that seemed impossible, she at last pushed the namble off her. Chest heaving, it rolled to its hands and knees and slunk back to its place in the circle, folding itself into a dark bundle. The chanting had stopped. The woman lay on the ground for a time, panting, recovering. She was covered with a glistening sheen of sweat that reflected the yellow light of the candle flames.

Taking one last, deep breath, the woman came smoothly to her feet. A dark stain of blood ran down her legs. With a calm awareness that sent a chill up Margaret’s spine and caught her breath short, the woman turned to face her, pulling off her hood.

The menacing orange glow in her eyes faded, and they returned to the pale blue with dark violet flecks that Margaret knew so well.

“Sister Margaret.” Her tone was as mocking as the smile on her thin lips. “Did you enjoy watching? I thought you might.”

Wide-eyed, Margaret rose slowly to her feet. Across the circle, the Sister who had held the cloth also rose, and pulled off her hood. “Margaret dear, how nice of you to show such interest in our little group. I didn’t know you were that stupid. Did you think I let you see the quillion in my office by accident? That I wasn’t aware someone was interested? I had to know who was skulking about, looking into things that were none of their concern. I let you see it. I wasn’t sure though, until you followed us.” Her smile froze Margaret’s breathing. “Think we are fools? I saw the pool of Han you cast for us to step in. I obliged you. Such a shame. For you.”

Margaret’s hand was clutched tightly around the gold flower at her neck, her fingernails digging into her palm. How could they have seen the pool of her Han? The answer was tragically simple: she had underestimated them. Underestimated what they could do with the gift. Her mistake was going to cost her her life.

But only her. Only her. Please, dear Creator, only her. She could sense Jedidiah close at her side.

“Jedidiah,” she whispered, “run. I’ll try to hold them off while you escape. Run, my love. Run for your life.”

His powerful hand came up and gripped her upper arm. “I don’t think so, ‘my love.’ ” Her eyes were captured by his cruelly empty expression. “I tried to save you, Margaret. I tried to get you to turn back. But you wouldn’t listen.” He glanced to the Sister across the clearing. “If I got her oath, couldn’t we just . . .” The Sister glared back. He sighed. “No, I suppose we couldn’t.”

He gave her a strong shove into the clearing. She came to a stumbling stop at the edge of the candles. She had gone numb. Her mind refused to work. Her voice refused to work.

The Sister across the circle clasped her hands together, looking to Jedidiah. “Has she told anyone else?”

“No. Just me. She was looking for proof before she went to anyone else for help.” His eyes returned to her. “Isn’t that right, my love?” He shook his head again, the smirk of a smile touching his lips. Lips she had kissed. She felt sick. She felt like the biggest fool the Creator had ever seen. “Such a shame.”

“You have done well, Jedidiah. You will be rewarded. And as for you, Margaret . . . well, tomorrow Jedidiah will report that after trying to avoid the insistent affections of an older woman, he finally and firmly rejected you for good, and you ran away in shame and humiliation. If they come here and find your bones, it will confirm their fears that you chose to end your life because you felt unworthy to live any longer as a Sister of the Light.”

The dark-flecked eyes glided back to Margaret. “Let me have her. Let me test my new gift. Let me taste it.”

Those eyes kept Margaret frozen, her hand still clutching the gold flower at her neck. She could hardly breathe through the numbing agony of knowing Jedidiah had betrayed her.

She had prayed to the Creator to give Jedidiah strength, strength to help others. She had had no idea who those others would be. The Creator had answered her prayers, foolish as they had been.

When the Sister consented, the thin lips widened in a greedy grin. Margaret felt naked, helpless, in the penetrating gaze of those flecked eyes.

At last, Margaret made her mind work. Her thoughts sprang to a terrified groping for a way of escape. She could only think of one thing to do, before it was too late. With panicked abandon, she let her Han explode through every fiber of herself, and brought forth a shield; the most powerful shield she knew—a shield of air. She made it hard as steel. Impenetrable. She poured her hurt and hate into it.

The thin smile never left. The flecked eyes didn’t move. “Air, is it then? With the gift, I can see it now. Shall I show you what I can do with air? What the gift can do with it?”

“The Creator’s power will protect me,” Margaret managed.

The thin smile turned to a sneer. “You think so? Let me show you the Creator’s impotence.”

Her hand came up. Margaret expected a ball of Wizard’s Fire. It wasn’t; it was a ball of air so dense she could see it, see it coming. It was so dense it distorted what was seen through it. Margaret could hear the whoosh of its approach, the wail of its power. It went through her shield like flaming pitch through paper.

It shouldn’t have been able to do that; her shield was air. Air should not have been able to break a shield of air, not a shield as strong as she had made. But this was air made not by a mere Sister, but one with the gift. A wizard’s gift.

Confused, Margaret realized she was lying on the ground, looking up at the stars, pretty stars: the Creator’s stars. She couldn’t draw a breath. Simply couldn’t.

She thought it odd; she didn’t remember the air hitting her. Only her breath being ripped violently from her lungs. She felt cold, but there was something warm against her face. Warm and wet. It was a comfort.

Her legs didn’t seem to work. Try as she might, she couldn’t make them move. With the greatest of effort, she managed to lift her head a bit. The Sisters hadn’t moved, but now somehow, they were farther away. They all watched her. Margaret looked down at herself.

Something was terribly wrong.

Below her ribs, there was mostly nothing there. Just the shredded, wet remains of her insides, and then nothing. Where the rest of her should have been, there was nothing. Where had her legs gone? They must be somewhere. They had to be somewhere.

There they were. They lay a little distance away, where she had been standing.

So. That was why she couldn’t take a breath. Air shouldn’t have been able to do that. It was impossible. At least air wielded by a Sister shouldn’t have been able to do that. It was a wonder.

Dear Creator, why have you not helped me? I was doing your work. Why have you let this be done!

It should hurt, shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t it hurt to be ripped in half? But it didn’t. It didn’t hurt the least little bit.

Cold. She felt only cold. But the warm rope of her guts lying against her face felt good. Warm. She took comfort in the warmth.

Maybe it didn’t hurt because the Creator was helping her. That must be it. The Creator had taken her pain. Dear Creator, thank you. I did my best. I am sorry I failed you. Send another.

Boots were near: Jedidiah. Husband Jedidiah; monster Jedidiah.

“I tried to warn you, Margaret. I tried to keep you away. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

Her arms lay sprawled out to her sides. In her right hand she could feel the little gold flower. She hadn’t let go of it. Even as she was torn in half, she never let go. She tried to now, but she couldn’t make her hand open. She wished she had the strength to open her hand. She didn’t want to die with that in her hand. But she just couldn’t open her fingers.

Dear Creator, I have failed in this, too.

Since she couldn’t release it, she did the only other thing she could think of. She sent the rest of her power into it. Maybe someone would see, and ask the right question.

Tired. She was so very tired.

She tried to close her eyes, but they wouldn’t close. How could a person die, if they couldn’t close their eyes?

There were a lot of stars. Pretty stars. There seemed to be fewer than she remembered. Hardly any at all. She thought her mother had told her once how many there were. But she couldn’t remember.

Well, she would just have to count them.

One . . . two . . .