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The anteroom was done in purple. A thick rug of deep plum welcomed her feet. The pointed wooden door gleamed with a maroon-purple grain. On the purple-tiled tabletop was a purple fur muff to match her cloak. Alexa thought that purple would soon be her least favorite color.
Marwey urged her to the door. A golden plaque caught Alexa’s attention enough for her to stare and blink. Diamond shaped, it had an inlay of purple enamel, then an exquisite representation of her jade baton—down to a tiny tube holding mercury at the top and bottom of the staff. Magic could certainly work beautiful—and quick—wonders.
There was also a set of wires on the door, looking like half an egg slicer. Alexa tilted her head, but the fog of exhaustion in her brain didn’t let her even begin to figure this one out. Marwey ran a thumbnail over the strings, producing a melodious run of notes. She waited a bit, then opened the latch. Ah, a doorbell—door-sounder—doorstrings—Alexa gave up.
She took the muff and they went through the door and faced another curving wall. This room was a narrow hall, rounding to the right and left out of sight. Marwey tugged Alexa left and through another door to the bedroom. The chamber was large and wedge-shaped, with a curving outer wall. Alexa calculated that it was slightly more than the left half of the remaining tower. Long, dark windows in the round wall reflected an elegant, richly provisioned room. All Alexa cared about was that it held a nice, big bed. Marwey helped her off with her clothes and into the bed. As she sank against soft pillows Alexa watched the girl play with the zipper of her little fanny pack a few times, then the teenager whistled away the light. The door closed softly behind her.
Alexa shivered as cold sheets and a fluffy mattress embraced her—nothing like her own warm waterbed. “Warm,” she muttered. Since she was alone, she allowed herself to whimper. “Warm.” To her surprise a cocoon of luscious heat enveloped her. The orchestral music that played in the background of her mind surged and whirled her into darkness.
As soon as the new Exotique was taken up to her bed and the Marshalls were alone in the Temple, they relaxed…to an extent. The Summoning had been more surprising than any had expected.
Thealia ran her gaze over the rest of the Marshalls. They’d all seen each other bloody, covered in dirt, guts and inhuman matter, and other disgusting substances. Only the most innately elegant or the most prideful sat with spine straight.
She relaxed enough to lean against the tapestry-covered wall and let out a soft sigh. Partis sat beside her and took her hand, playing with her fingers. “It’s been a very long night. It went well,” Thealia said. The room amplified her words so all could hear.
“Very well. All things considering,” Partis said.
Everyone murmured agreement.
“I believe the Song was right,” Faith, the Loremarshall, said. “The Exotique will discover the key to raising new fenceposts to protect our land.”
Faith was the most prescient of them all. They stared at her, and the mood lifted.
Thealia said, “I will remind you that it isn’t often we can afford a pool of protection. The fight will start in earnest soon. I urge all of you to make use of it.” Her gaze was drawn to the dark pool reflecting slices of light from the crystals embedded in the rafters and the wheel chandeliers.
It was mesmerizing.
Some grimaced. Mace rose. “My Shield and I will consider it.” He led his lady from the room. Others stood and slowly gathered their belongings. It had been a long night of great effort, and though they’d succeeded in their task, it was evident to all that a new and strange era had begun.
Thealia started to rise too, but Partis pressed his hand to her knee and she subsided. “We will stay and take the plunge,” he said.
The others nodded to Thealia and her Shield as they filed out.
Thealia eyed the pool. She didn’t want to feel every hurt burned away, though her body would become stronger and more protected where her aches had been. But it was the right thing to do.
Partis was already out of his surcoat and chain mail before she unbuttoned her own robe at the shoulders.
“I wonder if the babe will heal now,” Partis murmured in his musical voice, helping her discard her armor.
“We’ll find out as she grows. All we knew was that she wasn’t quite right in the head—nor were her Power paths clear and functional.”
Partis touched the gold streaks in Thealia’s hair. “Our granddaughter is a black-and-white, either graced with great wild Power or fragmented beyond repair. Still, it wasn’t pleasant seeing the Medica drop her in the pool.”
“The babe was the best candidate for the Test.”
“It was very clever of you to find a Test of the Exotique’s compassion that might also heal our granddaughter.” He rubbed her shoulders, and Thealia let out a whimper of pleasure.
“If baby Nyja—If the Exotique hadn’t saved her, her fate would have been better than living a life with flawed brain and Power,” she said.
“Yes, dear. You don’t have to convince me. It will be interesting to see the results.”
They were naked now and standing at the pool. Partis eyed it with distaste, thinking about the pain to come. Thealia scrutinized her husband for bruises and scratches. He did the same to her. Neither of them wanted the other to bear the imminent agony.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he said.
“No.”
His lips curved into the charming smile that had won her heart so many years ago. He linked his fingers with hers. “So we do it together.”
The minute Alexa woke the next morning, music filled her head. This time it was quiet, susurrant, again like a movie score, barely noticed.
So she knew she wasn’t in Colorado. Probably not even on Earth. More than the resurgence of mind-music, the basic scents were different. Even the atmosphere, the energy that pulsed around her, wasn’t the same as that of her old home. It was as if this world possessed both magic and a different soul.
She stretched luxuriously. The sheets caressed her body in a soft silkiness she’d never experienced from cloth. The bed cradled her in a pool of comfort.
The coverlet tickled her nose and she inhaled deeply. Some sharp yet soothing herbal fragrance flowed into her lungs. She opened one eye, then the other. The room’s walls showed the rosy reflection of dawn. It was light enough to discern a bright purple canopy with fuchsia flowers above her. She narrowed her eyes. This didn’t look new, like her cloak. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that they’d had people like her—from Earth—here before. The whole setup indicated that.
Before she could face the situation, she had to find a bathroom. Alexa pushed the covers aside and dangled her legs from the bed. She scowled. It was too high. She slid to the floor. Her toes curled in the long plush loops of the purple rug. Alexa grabbed the top of her long underwear and put it on. The shirt came to her knees, which was decent enough.
She peeked under the bed skirt into shadows. No chamber pot. Perhaps a good omen. Spying a door in the left wall, she went and opened it. Clothes. A closet.
The far circular wall of the room comprised long-paned windows arcing out, brightening more each moment with the rising sun. She wondered if it was east, but didn’t feel courageous enough to step to the windows and look out onto a strange landscape.
The right wall held another little door. She hurried and opened it. A triangular room held a toilet with the tank above it and a hand-pull to the left. A tiny basin hung on the wall and a shower stall was to the right. Another open door showed a large sitting room.
Alexa frowned—no bathtub. But people from Earth had definitely been here before—and had had some influence. Unless it had been the other way around—people from here had been to Earth. In any case, these folks had indoor plumbing. A very big plus.
Soon her relief that she was simply and gloriously alive would fade and the reality would crash upon her. She sensed it coming like a huge tidal wave—one the cobalt color of that dreadful pool.
It was only when she was back in bed, three pillows of the four propped behind her so she could think, that she recalled the pink fairy.
The Marshalls sat in their Council Chamber in the morning. Bright sunlight danced through the narrow windows, lighting dust motes until they glowed golden, bringing out the streaks of burnished oak in the table—and illuminating its scars.
Thealia could tell which of the Marshalls had availed themselves of the pool. The strain of the Summoning was there in them all, but those who’d used the pool of protection had an extra glow to their skin, a hint that their energy would return redoubled. It made her blink in surprise. Could the jerir in the pool be that powerful? Perhaps.
Bathing in jerir wasn’t common, so she hadn’t realized the effects were obvious. She noted everyone studying one another and saw a dawning awareness on the faces of those who hadn’t taken the plunge.
Clearing her throat, she said, “The Marshalls’ meeting is now in session.” She inclined her head to Faith to make sure the Lorebook recorded the meeting. “Mistress Loremarshall, can you tell us how long the jerir is effective?”
Faith jerked in surprise. Stacked in front of her were three large tomes, all covered in the metallic hide of lizworm, one with an illustrated page of the jade baton. She frowned. “One moment.” With a whoosh, a new book she’d summoned arrived on the table near her. She set her hand on it and lilted a spelltune. The book opened and Faith bent her head over it. “The amount of jerir in the Temple’s sacred basin should last through an entire moonspan and a half.”
“Ah,” Thealia said. “In that case we will not drain the basin today as previously arranged. I propose that we let word spread that any who wish to use the pool may present themselves at the gates properly prepared. They will be escorted to the Temple and watched while they immerse themselves. Discussion?”
“Thealia, is this wise? Anyone?” asked Faith.
“We are at the prelude of a new age. Enough of us have heard the Song to know that the struggle before us will be long and hard. We will need all our resources.”
Mace’s—the Armsmaster’s—grin was ironic. “Anyone who’s bold enough to come to the Castle and request the use of the pool, and courageous enough to dunk himself, will be someone I can respect—and train, if needs be.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Any more discussion?”
No one answered.
“Then we are agreed?”
“Agreed,” everyone responded.
Thealia smiled in satisfaction. Meetings went so much more smoothly when their leader, Lord Knight Swordmarshall Reynardus, didn’t attend.
“Let’s talk about our new Marshall, Alyeka,” Thealia said.
“She can’t be allowed to keep that absurd name,” someone grumbled.
“Oh, who’s going to tell her that?” Faith smiled.
“Swordmarshall Johnsa, an image if you please,” Thealia requested.
With the care and competence that she brought to all her duties, Johnsa built a foot-high, three-dimensional model of their new Exotique, startling in its likeness.
Thealia caught her breath. She’d forgotten how odd Alexa looked. Or perhaps it was that sunlight accentuated her pale coloring, light hair and green eyes so much more than the shadowy Temple.
Partis grasped her hand under the table and squeezed.
The harp on the door strummed.
“Enter,” Thealia called. Of the Marshalls, only Reynardus’s place was empty. She hadn’t anticipated that he’d make the meeting, and he wouldn’t courteously use the doorharp either.
The door opened and Luthan, one of Reynardus’s sons—one of Thealia’s dear godsons—entered.
Concern fluttered in the pit of Thealia’s stomach. That he was here meant he didn’t agree with the Marshalls on some point. “Do you come as the Representative of the Chevaliers?” Thealia asked. It was his right, but she didn’t want an altercation with a man she respected, or a breach between the Marshalls of the Castle and Chevaliers of the Field. But she wouldn’t let him turn her from the path she knew was right. “I trust you are not the only Chevalier who arrived for ‘The Pairing.’ I’d like to give our new Marshall a good choice.”
His glance swept the table. He froze when he noted the model of Alexa. His expression of revulsion was brief but obvious.
Thealia’s chest tightened. A pity he could not like her. They both could do so much worse. Maybe in time…
Luthan smiled, showing teeth. “No, I don’t represent the Chevaliers to the Castle. I am here as the Representative of the Cloister of the Singer.”
“The Cloister!” They hadn’t sent a delegate to the Castle for as long as anyone could remember.
He slid into the proper seat, the one carved with a full moon sending rays down to a woman who Sang. “That’s right. The Cloister wanted a Representative at the Castle if the Summoning was a success. They approached me as a man of good moral fiber and one with experience of the Marshalls.”
No one could ever deny that. He’d battled his father all his life.
“The Cloister requested I turn over my representation of the Chevaliers to another whom I trusted, and attend for them.”
This complete change shook Thealia. “Who did you choose to replace you for the Chevaliers?”
He hesitated. “The post is open for the moment.”
Mace snorted. “The Chevaliers didn’t believe we’d succeed in the Summoning. Caught them and you unprepared. Not a good thing for knights.”
A flush crept to Luthan’s cheekbones. He sat straight. “There is dissension amongst the Chevaliers as to the arrogance and the secrecy of you Marshalls. Further, some of us Chevaliers consulted the Song a week ago. It foretold only a sixty-percent chance of success.”
Thealia flinched. “The last time the Marshalls consulted the Song, it was an eighty-percent chance of achievement.”
Luthan lifted a shoulder. “Circumstances change.”
“We were luckier than we thought,” Faith said, smoothing the page of one of her books.
This change, and the new information, disturbed Thealia. But she couldn’t afford to let it show. “And your replacement?”
“I thought to offer it to my brother.”
“Bastien?” Mace laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair.
“That rogue…in a responsible position? Impossible,” Thealia said.
“What’s impossible is the thought of the three of them—Reynardus, Luthan and Bastien—here on the Council.” Johnsa shaded her eyes as if trying to banish the vision. “We’d never get anything done.”
“Bastien is a good man,” said his brother. “Undervalued and underestimated. Further, as delegates, we would follow the instructions of our patrons.”
That started Mace laughing again. “As if Bastien ever followed any instructions, ever!” he said between snorts. “I thank you for the laugh, my friend. But we should proceed with business.”
Thealia scrutinized Luthan. What were his instructions? He’d just made her job harder. She sought to keep him off balance. “Does your father know you’re the new Cloister Representative and that you’re here?”
His jaw tensed.
So. His father didn’t know. Not surprising since the last she’d heard, the whole family had fragmented, Reynardus’s sons moving to their own holdings or camping in the field with the Chevaliers.
She didn’t press the issue. Luthan would inherit from Reynardus one day, and there was that wide streak of silver at his left temple as well as a few strands at his right. His personal Power was strong, and he might become a Marshall in the future.
“Why are you here?” Thealia asked.
Luthan’s gaze went to the image of Alexa. “The Chevaliers heard the Summoning was a success. This changes the whole battle plan.”
“As we told you it would,” Thealia said dryly. “Though you doubted us. Do you stay to be part of the Choosing and Pairing?”
His eyes widened in horror. His cheeks reddened a bit. “Ah, no. I didn’t come for The Choosing and Pairing. Nor has any other Chevalier.”
Thealia just raised her eyebrows and stared at him. He shifted in his seat.
She continued. “That is the next step, you know. To Pair our Exotique—Alyeka—with a person of Lladrana so she will stay. The Chevaliers should be here.”
Luthan frowned and leaned forward. “Let’s call your ‘Choosing’ exactly what it is. It’s a forced, involuntary life and blood-bond—a bossechain. Her Choosing will not be a ritual to find and love a mate. Her bond will not be a coeurdechain.” His smooth and quiet tones had disappeared and his voice took on a harshness that echoed his father’s.
“Semantics,” she said, but her lips tightened. She met his eyes. “It isn’t quite ethical, but over the centuries we’ve found it necessary and effective.”
