Call of Wizardry, page 9
“O most cantankerous Lord,” Perrin said in the conversational tone he always used when addressing his avatar, “I beg you to forgive my importunity at such an early hour. I am certain your renowned sagacity and awareness of all that transpires on earth means you know the plight in which we find ourselves, and the urgency of our need.”
Sienne glanced at Cressida. Her hands were clasped in front of her tightly, and her eyes were closed and her head bowed. Her lips were moving soundlessly, making Sienne wonder if she was even listening to Perrin’s prayer.
“I ask for your guidance in the blessings I receive today, that your wisdom, so much greater than my own, will provide me with direction and aid as you see fit,” Perrin went on. “And, o Lord of pestilential bad humor, if I might trouble you for more specific guidance. I ask only that you confirm the direction I intend to—”
Perrin’s eyes flew wide open, and he gasped as if he’d been struck, arching his back against some unseen force. His breathing became rapid and shallow. His hands, which had curled loosely over his knees, clenched so tightly on the arms of the chair Sienne could see the tendons standing out on their backs, white against his normal tan. Sienne’s hand closed on Alaric’s arm. “Is he all right?” she whispered.
Alaric stepped forward. Perrin didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. He seemed not to notice Alaric at all. Cressida continued her silent prayer, if that was what it was, but tears had begun trickling down her face to drip unchecked from her chin. “I’m afraid to interfere,” Alaric said in a low voice.
“But what if it’s like when he tried to see as God sees?” Sienne whispered. “What if he’s dying?”
Alaric hesitated. Then he took another step closer, putting himself within arm’s length of Perrin, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. Before he could touch him, Perrin let out a long breath and sagged, his head drooping so his hair curtained his face. “O Lord,” he whispered, “I beg your forgiveness for my audacity. You are more generous than I deserve.”
Alaric let his hand fall and looked back at Sienne. Sienne shook her head. She didn’t know what to say, either.
Perrin looked up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. All his attention was on Cressida, who had stopped crying but hadn’t wiped the tears away. “How did you know what he would say?” he asked in wonder.
“Averran asks us to use our own judgment and in that way gain wisdom,” Cressida said. “You told me that, months ago. Perrin, you have changed so much in ways I could never have imagined. Your companions are key to that change. You cannot abandon them now, however noble your intentions.”
Perrin rose from his seat, not at all stiffly, and went to stand in front of Cressida. His black eye had vanished. “I abandoned you once,” he said. “And suffered tremendously for that choice. I cannot do it again.”
Cressida took his hand. “It is not abandonment, because you will return. I am certain of it. Please, Perrin. Finish this task. And come back to me.”
Sienne was sure neither of them remembered she and Alaric were in the room. She tugged on Alaric’s arm and backed away toward the door. Alaric glanced at her once, startled, then opened the door and followed her through.
“That was…dramatic,” Sienne said when the door was shut. “Do you think Averran spoke to him?”
“I can’t imagine anything else that would strike him so hard,” Alaric said. “But I wish he’d received blessings. We need to be on our way.”
Sienne punched him lightly on the arm. “They’re reconciling! That’s so much more important.”
“We’re in danger of losing the Delucco children again. How is that more important?”
“It’s…all right, we need to get out of here, true. But don’t you hope they’ve finally resolved their differences? I think they’re kissing.”
A door opened farther down the hall, and Dianthe appeared. “I must have coffee,” she moaned. “I hate this time of day. Nobody sane is awake.”
“I love mornings,” Sienne said.
Dianthe squinted at her. “And you’re clearly insane. Is Perrin conscious? We barely have enough time for coffee.”
“Perrin and Cressida are making up,” Sienne said.
“They are? I don’t suppose he’s changed his mind.”
“Averran seems to have changed it for him,” Alaric said.
Cressida’s door swung open. “I am thoroughly humbled,” Perrin said. “Let this be a reminder to me not to be so certain what Averran’s answer to a question will be.”
“So you’re going with us?” Alaric asked.
Perrin nodded. “I must petition Averran once more for blessings, and hope he is not so thoroughly sick of me he ignores my request. But I think he will not.” He held out a hand, which quivered. “Being touched by God leaves a mark, and I believe Averran will know I do not approach him frivolously.”
“I will ready the children and their possessions, few as they are,” Cressida said. “And I think—”
Steps sounded on the nearby staircase, and a girl no older than Delphine Delucco, dressed in the green and gold of the Verannus family, came into view. “Mistress Delucco,” she said, bowing, “you’re wanted downstairs. There are men at the door looking for you.”
Cressida blanched. Perrin put his arm around her and drew her close. “They cannot prove the children are here,” he said, “and you are fierce in their defense. You have nothing to fear from my father.”
Cressida nodded, looking up at him. She didn’t look certain. Swift as thought, Perrin kissed her. “Go,” he said, “and be as distraught as you may.”
That brought a smile to her lips. She squeezed his hand once, then followed the girl down the stairs. Perrin watched her go, smiling himself. “Blessings,” he said, “and perhaps Sienne and Dianthe might help the children pack?”
Sienne found she was grinning like a madwoman and didn’t feel like controlling herself. “Alaric, find Kalanath, I’m sure he’s awake,” she said. “Cressida may be able to deter those men, but we should leave quickly.”
She and Dianthe found the children stirring and assured them their parents were there and no, Grandpapa would not take them away ever again. They helped the two stuff their clothing into a knapsack—Cressida was right, there wasn’t much—and got Noel dressed with a minimum of fuss. When they emerged from the bedroom, the hall was empty. Sienne rapped on Perrin’s door, hoping she wasn’t interrupting his prayers. Alaric immediately opened the door. “We’re ready,” he said. “Perrin is prepared to scry for you.”
“Papa!” Noel shouted, racing past Alaric to jump on Perrin, who was seated cross-legged on the floor this time. Perrin laughed and scooped the boy up. “Papa, Grandpapa took us, and Lady Sienne made us jump here. It felt like being hooked like a fish! Can we do it again?”
“Indeed we can, and will do so shortly,” Perrin said. He set Noel down and rose, letting out a deep breath. “But now you must be still. Perhaps you might sit on the bed.”
“I have my shoes on. Mama says not to jump on the bed with my shoes on.”
“Sit quietly, and it will be all right,” Perrin said, helping Noel up. He had a handful of slightly crumpled squares of rice paper in his left hand and tucked most of them away, retaining only one. “I do not know Esthold, so I cannot choose a location. We will have to use our best judgment.”
“I don’t think any of us have been there,” Sienne said, and felt a twinge of doubt about their plan.
The door opened again. “They are gone,” Cressida said, somewhat out of breath. “They will return when they have legal grounds to search for the children. I do not think the duke will allow it, but we should not take risks.”
“Agreed,” Perrin said. He held the blessing paper at arm’s length and murmured, “O great Lord, have mercy on me, and grant this blessing.”
The paper burst into blue fire that coursed down Perrin’s fingers without harming him, turning his tanned skin yellow. The air thickened in front of his face, rippling like glowing blue water. Slowly, angular shapes, dark like a charcoal drawing, emerged from the ripples, until with a jerk the thickened air became an oval window on a city. The view was of a street lined with squat stone buildings whose dark green roofs were steeper than any Sienne had seen before. Doors as heavy as the never-closed gates of Fioretti gave the buildings a forbidding look, though there were signs over each one painted with words in Ansorjan: tailor, chandler, baker. She’d be afraid to shop in any of the stores.
“Should I move the vision?” Perrin asked.
Sienne examined the street. It was busy, but not crowded, and she didn’t think there would be any trouble taking herself through. “It’s fine,” she said. “Give me a minute.”
The stones the shops were made of were small, no bigger than her doubled fists. How long would it take to build a store with stones that size? They were multicolored, too, mostly pale gray, but also charcoal and midnight blue and a mossy green that matched the roofs. Paving stones as big as she was made a sharp contrast to the stones of the buildings. Thick blades of grass grew up here and there between the cracks, defiant against the shoes and hooves that trod them down.
The nearest shop sign read Lassten. Hats. Sienne studied it, noticing how the pale blue lettering was faded around the edges. There was a light patch near the N that suggested the sign painter had blotched his work and had cleaned it imperfectly. She closed her eyes, holding that sign in memory, and chanted the syllables of jaunt.
The now-familiar jerk near her midsection pulled her a few stumbling steps through a world that blurred past her eyes. She blinked, and the blurriness solidified into the street she’d seen in vision. The sounds of carts rolling past and the low murmuring hum of men and women speaking in curt, abrupt Sorjic filled her ears.
Esthold smelled nothing like Fioretti, where the warm southern sun heated the ocean waves and filled the air with the bitter-tart scent of brine. Though it was still the end of true summer, there was a chilly nip in the morning air, which smelled deliciously of baked goods and hot fruit and made Sienne look forward to winter’s delights. She breathed in deeply, then had to take a few quick steps out of the way of a cart drawn by two plodding horses enormous enough to match Alaric’s unicorn form. She didn’t need to be run over at the start of this adventure.
She turned and backed up against the wall of the hat shop, surveying the street. A few people were staring at her, but they turned away when she smiled pleasantly at them. So wizards appearing out of nowhere weren’t the kind of rarity that started a riot. She hadn’t expected rioting to be the case, but it was a risk she’d had to take.
What the scrying vision hadn’t revealed was that the streets were filthy with animal waste and mud. It looked as though rain had fallen the night before, but hadn’t left the streets swept clean and fresh the way it would in Fioretti. But the smell of baked goods overpowered the nearer stink, so where…
The bakery turned out to be just across the street. Twice the size of the hat shop, it had an enormous plate glass window, far bigger than anything she’d seen in Fioretti, displaying its wares. That made sense, since Esthold was famed for its glassworks, even in the south. Sienne’s stomach rumbled. Bring everyone here, and then, breakfast.
She crossed the street and walked a short distance away from the bakery, looking for an alley wide enough for several people to fit. Esthold might not care about strangers popping into existence in the middle of the street, but horses spooked easily, and Sienne didn’t want to cause a scene.
She found what she wanted three doors down: an alley more than wide enough to admit a night soil cart, though it didn’t smell any worse than the rest of the street. She ducked into it and, walking its length, discovered it let out on a quieter street where the shops didn’t have signs. Maybe they weren’t shops, though they lacked the liveliness a household would have had at this hour. Not important.
She backed up to the center of the alley and focused on the stones of the wall, whose varied colors made a pattern like the toothy maw of Doom from a hazard deck. Very easy to remember. She focused on it until her sense of the place surrounded her, and cast jaunt.
Cressida’s bedroom was crowded with people and their belongings. Noel shrieked with excitement when Sienne popped into existence beside him. “I want to be a wizard when I grow up!” he shouted. “Can I be a wizard, Mama?”
“I’m sorry, Noel, but no, it is something you must be born to do,” Cressida said. Noel’s face fell. Looking at him, Sienne wondered as she had before whether the ritual that had unlocked her potential as a wizard might work to give an ordinary person magical abilities. It was one more thing she had no answers for. She loved being able to do wizardry, and the idea of giving that capability to someone like Noel thrilled her. But it would have to wait until later. Much later, probably.
Alaric tapped her on the shoulder. “You forgot this,” he murmured, handing her her spellbook. Sienne looped the harness over her shoulder—and went briefly numb with shock. She’d cast jaunt without the spellbook. In front of Cressida. Giving away her secret without even thinking about it.
She found her hands had settled the book without conscious direction from herself. Cressida didn’t look as if she thought anything was out of the ordinary. In fact, she was occupied with fastening the children’s knapsack around Delphine’s shoulders. Sienne bit her lip nervously, then decided to say nothing to draw attention to herself. Who would Cressida tell, after all? And for all Sienne knew, it wasn’t a secret worth keeping…oh, but that was so false she couldn’t believe it herself. Being able to cast spells without a spellbook was a development that would turn wizardry on its head. But that, too, she would have to deal with later.
“Transport can only manage five people at a time,” she said, “five people and whatever they’re carrying. I want to take all the Deluccos on the second trip, and Alaric, you’ll have to carry Leaf.” She eyed Leaf, who stood near the door looking like an ordinary dog, for signs that the Pekkanen objected to this idea. Leaf looked back at her with an impassive gaze. Well, it was unlikely Sienne was going to win her over.
Kalanath slung his staff across his back, thrusting it through his belt, and held out his hand to Sienne. “This is a way of travel I like,” he said with a smile. “It is not as exciting as carpets, but it is like Alaric says, it is a…rush.”
“It is infinitely preferable to carpets,” Perrin said with a shudder.
Dianthe put her hand on Sienne’s right shoulder as Sienne balanced her spellbook in the crook of that elbow. “What should Alaric do?”
“Hold Kalanath’s hand, and Dianthe, you put your other hand on Alaric’s shoulder. It’s not like transport actually goes anywhere—you’re one place, and then you’re another—so you can’t get…flung off, or lost, or anything. If you break the circle, it just doesn’t work. So physical contact is the important thing.” She waited for the others to settle, then pretended to read transport. Kalanath was right; the feeling of being tugged and the world zipping past was fun.
The alley was empty when they arrived. Doom’s toothy maw and fleshy tongue gazed down at them. “Wait for us at that end of the alley,” Sienne said. “It will just take a moment.”
Alaric drew in a deep breath. “I smell food,” he said. “I didn’t know how hungry I was.”
“Ansorjan pastries,” Sienne agreed. “This day is already looking up.”
8
It turned out one major difference between dogs and Pekkanen was that the latter were omnivorous. Watching Leaf make short work of hot bread stuffed with blueberries put Sienne in greater charity with the creature. Maybe she was short-tempered because she’d starved for so many months. Maybe she would come around to Alaric’s way of thinking. It was unlikely, but having brought the Deluccos safely out of Beneddo, Sienne felt inclined to optimism.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a delicate burp. “Now what? We find a place for Cressida to stay?”
“And outfit ourselves for a journey,” Alaric agreed. “Leaf, can you lead us to the wizard’s valley?”
Do you still mean to save Genneva?
“We’ll free the Sassaven and destroy the wizard,” Alaric said. “And save Genneva.”
The Pekkanen let out a long mental sigh that sounded like wind over new grass. I will help you. But I do not know what you can do.
“Why did you come if you had so little faith in me?” Alaric exclaimed, sounding exasperated.
It was Detlenda’s idea. Your mother has faith enough for thousands.
Alaric smiled. “She wouldn’t have believed I was dead.”
She did not. I know she prays to God every night for your survival.
Sienne, looking at the others’ uncomprehending faces, said, “Leaf will be our guide. But we need to find a Rafellish neighborhood first.”
“You’d better do the talking, Sienne,” Alaric said. “The Sorjic they speak here is difficult for me to understand.”
“I wish I could take you to Stravanus,” Sienne said. “You’re a living example of phonemic drift.”
“I’ll assume that’s not as horrible a thing as it sounds,” Alaric said. “Lead on.”
Sienne discovered almost immediately that Esthold and Fioretti had more in common than it seemed on the surface. For one thing, people weren’t at all interested in conversation with strangers, even strangers who spoke their language. It took Sienne ten minutes to find someone interested in stopping to talk, and another ten to find someone who knew anything useful. But by the end of that twenty minutes, she’d learned what she wanted to know: there was a neighborhood where many Rafellish had settled, north near the docks.
“I dislike the sound of that,” Perrin murmured when she’d conveyed this information. “Docks are traditionally environs for hardened criminals and the coarser element of society.”
