Seasons, page 26
Slowly and thoroughly, Joss thought. Do it right.
Over the next half hour, he separated the girls and bespelled each one. They were all speaking truth.
By the time he was done, bystanders told him the Sand family had left, taking Coltrey with them.
Fine. It was late, and there was something deeply amiss, something besides the obvious. Coltrey hadn’t attacked Perda, and Joss suspected he hadn’t attacked the others either. But they were all sure he had. Joss needed to think on it.
He knew where to find the boy, and he could pick up the mess tomorrow.
* * *
• • •
The next morning, Joss was up before the sun. He’d had all night to puzzle out the situation, but so had everyone else. He could easily imagine some angry brother or father stewing all through the night, then getting up early with a hardened resolve to punish the villain and be done with it. Joss was determined to get ahead of any would-be heroes.
A vineyard was a kind of farm, and farmers rose early. If he set off with the dawn, he’d arrive at Delinda’s house in time for breakfast.
:Any ideas?: he asked Dash, while hauling out saddle and bridle.
:A few. No good ones,: said Dash.
Joss sighed and nodded. :One—someone has figured out how to defeat the Truth Spell. Unlikely. And catastrophic if so.:
Dash tossed his head in agreement. :Two—Coltrey is two-minded, and the mind you spoke to honestly has no recollection of assaulting the young ladies.:
Joss grimaced while tossing Dash’s saddle on. :I didn’t think of that. Let’s hope not. It’s unlikely anyway, terribly rare. Three—someone disguised himself well enough to pass as Coltrey in the most intimate situation.:
:Possible,: said Dash. :Someone already of the same build and coloring. And if he carried out his attacks in the dark?:
:Still a huge risk.:
Joss finished tacking up Dash, mounted and headed off down the drive.
They went in silence, Joss fitting facts together this way and that, trying to see some obvious answer he’d missed. The sun was just rising over a vine-rowed hill when he took the turn past a shallow, bubbling creek.
Before he was halfway to the house, he heard scampering feet and a voice calling, “Herald Josswyn? Wait!”
Dash stopped, and they looked back to see a younger boy who looked rather like Coltrey running up the drive toward them.
:Someone likes early morning walks,: Dash observed.
:He might be coming home from a tryst,: said Joss. :He looks young enough to think sneaking out with his sweetheart is a grand adventure.:
“Good morning!” called the young man. “I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but I never got a chance.”
“Yes?” Joss mustered a smile for the boy. “And who are you?”
“I’m Perran Sand!”
Ah, that one. Joss really didn’t want to deal with the boy’s dreams at that moment, but before he could come up with a polite excuse to leave, Perran was babbling at him.
“I’m going to be a Herald! I’ve seen it! That means I have Foresight, right? That’s a Gift, and only Heralds have Gifts. I’m a great rider, and I’m the best archer my age, and I even beat a lot of the older kids. I’m good with a sword, too! I’ve been having lessons since I was little! I’m going to be a Herald! You can see it too, can’t you?”
Joss opened his mouth to explain how things worked to the boy, but then, all of a sudden, he could see it. He got a wavery vision of Perran in Whites.
:Did you see that?: he asked Dash. :That’s . . . I’ve never had a hint of Foresight before.:
:I didn’t see anything,: said Dash.
Joss looked at Perran. Yes, that was what he’d seen—Perran in Whites.
Wait, that was exactly what he’d seen. Perran, as he was right then, in Whites.
That was impossible. Perran was only fifteen. Even if he were Chosen that very day, he’d spend years in Grays, and he would look very different by the time he got his Whites.
Joss looked down at the boy and said, “I’m not sure. I thought I saw something, but it was a bit hazy. How strange!”
Sure enough, the image came again, brighter and stronger. And because he was watching for it, Joss felt the tickle of Mind-magic.
It was Perran.
:It’s a kind of Mindtouching,: said Dash. :He’s making you see what he wants you to see.:
Joss felt a cold knot in his gut, but he made himself smile down at Perran and said, “Well, let’s go talk to your family, shall we?”
Perran beamed up at him and happily led him up to the house.
Most of the adults were awake when Perran led Joss into the dining room where breakfast was laid out on the sideboard.
“Joss?” Delinda wore a loose morning dress and her hair was bundled into a hasty bun. Her face was pale with dark smudges under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well.
Ruban stood up and glared at Joss. “It’s early for calling. What do you want?”
“I’m going to be a Herald, Father!” Perran was bouncing up and down on his toes. “Herald Josswyn saw it!”
“What?” Ruban looked back and forth between Perran and Joss and Delinda, shocked silent.
“I do want to talk about what I saw,” said Joss. He looked around at the assembled family before looking back at Ruban. “But I’m afraid it wasn’t quite what Perran wanted me to think. Your son is Gifted, Ruban. But the way he uses it, he’s never going to be Chosen.”
Ruban said, “What?” and Perran said, “No!”
Another man who looked to be in his midtwenties or so, and had a younger version of Ruban’s face, stepped up and said, “I’m Carwin, Perran’s oldest brother. What’s he done?”
“Your brother has a Gift that allows him to project images into other people’s minds,” said Joss. “He can make them see what he wants them to see. He tried to convince me I was ‘seeing’ him as a Herald, but he showed me himself as he is, a young boy, in Whites. That would never happen. But it clued me in to what he was actually doing.”
He gave Perran a hard look and said, “This is the young man who assaulted all those young women. He gave them the image of his brother Coltrey doing it. The girls were all telling the truth last night, as they saw it. But Coltrey spoke true when he denied assaulting Perda. Both truths cannot be true. The young ladies told the truth as they knew it, but their accusations of Coltrey were memories planted in their minds by Perran when he assaulted them.”
Perran turned to run, but his brother grabbed him by the arm and said, “You’re not going anywhere. You stand right there while the Herald casts his spell.”
Carwin kept a tight hold on Perran’s arm while Joss cast the spell yet again, and his parents watched in silence, leaning on one another.
Joss took the spell all the way to second stage, certain Perran wouldn’t speak unless compelled. Then he asked, “Did you force yourself on Perna?”
Perran grimaced and struggled but finally spit out, “Yes!”
Joss went through the names of the other young women. The boy answered yes to each one.
“Did you make them all think it was Coltrey raping them?”
“Yes!”
Ruban staggered back to the table and sat down heavily in a chair, his face pale. “Now what?”
“He’ll be punished by the local authorities,” said Joss.
“Your brother.”
“Yes, the Baron administers the Queen’s justice in this region. But there’s one thing I need to do before we dump this in Joris’ lap.” Joss had never done this before, had hoped he would never have to, but he knew how, and it had to be done. “No one who abuses a Gift is allowed to keep it. I’ll be removing it right now.”
Perran started screaming and struggling, but his brothers held him while Joss did what he needed to do.
* * *
• • •
The rest of the Spring Fair was an odd mixture of subdued and giddy. Most of the neighborhood was glad to have a rapist found and punished, but at the same time, they were shocked that it happened.
Perna’s mother sought out Joss to thank him, but Perna herself was keeping to home. Joss suggested a Mindhealer. Her mother agreed to think on it.
The rest of Joss’ visit with his family was awkward. His family and Delinda’s were close; all the adults and most of the older children felt the discomfort. When Joss packed up and saddled Dash, it was with a sense of relief.
:It’ll have blown over by next time we’re here,: said Dash.
:Perhaps,: said Joss. He wasn’t sure; he had a sick feeling that his friendship with Delinda would never be the same, but he was willing to wait and see.
:I did forget something, though. I found it while I was packing up.: He pulled a long blue ribbon out of a saddlebag and started braiding it into his Companion’s mane. :Happy Spring Fair, Dash. I love you, and this is a token of it.:
:I love you too, Chosen. You did the right thing, and I’m proud to be your Companion.:
A Darkling Light
Phaedra Weldon
“But, Manou,” Twill said breathlessly as she and her best friend climbed up the side ladder and into their favorite hiding place since childhood. The Hold was a hive of loud voices, laughter, and music, while the smells of roasted meats, vegetables, and spices filled the chilled autumn air. Harvest Fest was under way, the Hunt had started early that morning, and the first spoils celebrations were underway. “We have to light the Sovvan fires tonight.”
“I know that!” Manou huffed as he pulled and pushed his rounded figure up the stairs behind Twill. They were the same age but not the same size. Twill was reed thin, with a mass of curly red hair, a round cherub face and bright green eyes. Manou’s skin was darker, and he tanned while Twill freckled. Manou was also a half a foot taller and, obviously, rounder. “And that’s not a we. I’m not part of that.” He gave an exaggerated shiver on the ladder. “That’s you and Jaques. Not gonna catch me out tonight in the dark.”
Manou was the Hold Lord’s youngest son. Having a different mother than his older siblings, the baby of the family stuck out, not just in his size and his love of food, but in his lack of interest in everything except lore. Where his older brother and sister were being groomed to take over running the Hold, Manou studied lore of any kind, and every Harvest Fest he reminded her that as of midnight last night, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead had begun to thin, and soon their spirits would walk among the Holderkin.
Dumb Suppers were being prepared in every household, ready to pay respects to those who had passed during the year. Decorations hung from doors and windows, balconies and store fronts. Cornstalks and bales of wheat straw covered every corner. Even the horses wore bridles woven with orange, yellow, and red leaves.
Twill scooted into their little spot, an alcove overlooking the back gate of the Hold. Most of the year storage boxes took up residence in the alcove, but they had all had been removed. When Manou’s dark hair popped up from the ladder, she stood and pulled him the rest of the way up and in, and he slid on his belly across the stone.
“You really need to lay off the honey pastries, Manou,” she said as she plopped down, winded. “And I thought you said if I ever got Chosen, you’d go with me.” She winced at the whine in her voice. The lighting of the dark during Sovvan Night was supposed to be an honor, but among the Hold children, the stories of ghosts and strange sounds in the dark had turned it into something terrifying.
His face was red and sweat dotted his brow. “Well, I thought I might. But given my father wants me to help my brother guard the stables, I should stay home.”
Twill glared at him. “He said no such thing.”
“He did too!” Manou set his lips into a thin line. “We’ve had three horses go missing, and some of the supplies in the shed.”
“And it just so happens the stables aren’t that far from the kitchens. The only thing you’re gonna do is eat more pastries. You’re just scared.”
“So are you.” His eyes widened. “Oooh. Did you hear about the missing child at one of the southern Holds? Said he went out to light the windows, and there was a scream . . . and then they never found him! I heard the spirits took him back to their side of the veil.”
“Stop . . . it.” Twill turned and pulled a burlap sack from beneath a blanket.
“What’s that?”
“The brazier. I have to light it from the bale fire and take the light forth.” She sighed and slumped forward. “If I just didn’t have to go outside the Hold walls . . .”
“I know.” And he patted her back. “Maybe you should bring your bow. I hope the spirits don’t take you, Twill. I’ll be very lonely—”
Twill perked up when she heard other voices set apart from the drone of the Hold’s activity. She held up a hand and moved on her hands and knees to the edge of the alcove. A couple of the town’s Elders and two soldiers were just below them, gathered in a circle.
Manou looked over the edge as well. “Why—”
Twill slapped her hand over his mouth and shook her head. She wanted to hear what they were saying.
She recognized Lord Dorwind by the gray hair at his temples. Next to him stood Lord Ellis, the lore keeper. There was Captain Roth and a soldier she didn’t know. The fact they were gathering at the back gate, below the alcove, alarmed her. It was a secret meeting.
“—arrange for a search party,” Lord Ellis was saying.
“In the middle of the Hunt?” Captain Roth shook his head. “Too dangerous. Those participating could shoot someone looking for them. The only way a search party could work is to cancel the Hunt.”
“That will not happen,” Lord Dorwind said. Twill always thought the man looked like he smelled something bad. “So far the Hunt is going well, and we need the blessing for the winter. We can look for them after the celebration starts.”
“After?” Lord Ellis looked shocked. “What if something terrible has happened? What if there is an investigation?”
The group lowered their voices to where Twill couldn’t hear them, and then the group moved away through the back gate.
Twill sat back and looked wide-eyed at Manou. He returned the stare, and neither said anything for a few minutes.
“Twill . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared for you. Someone’s gone missing. But they didn’t say who.”
Twill nodded stiffly. “I can’t believe Lord Windbag won’t go look for them.”
“You think he knows a ghost took them?”
“It’s still daylight, Manou.” At least, that was the excuse Twill told herself. “Spirits can’t take you in daylight, right?”
“You heard them. They just took somebody from this Hold. And they were in the woods! It’s not even night yet.”
All the color drained from Twill’s face.
* * *
• • •
The two friends spent the remainder of the day scouting out all the houses in the Hold, as well as the ones along the route designated by Lord Ellis. The candles were in place, and if there was a window without a candle, Twill put one where it should be. If she and Jaques split up the route, and they started just before it got really dark, they could be back in the safety of the Hold within an hour.
This realization made her feel a little better as she dressed for the approaching festival. Her mother braided her hair, weaving in yellow leaves. Twill wore a dark green shift over her festival best, hoisted up the sack with her supplies, put her bow and a quiver of arrows inside, and headed to the main square. She didn’t know if she could actually defend herself with a bow against spirits, but she’d try if she had to.
Her confidence was shattered when Lord Ellis met her there and told her Jaques wouldn’t be lighting the windows with her that night.
“Where . . . why not?” Twill blurted out.
Lord Ellis’s expression worried her, especially when he glanced at the main gate as the last of the Hunt parties came through. Cheers and music greeted them, and Twill looked in their direction as well. She assumed the Hunt for the blessing had gone well . . . but it looked odd not to see a Herald about with his magic horse. Or even better, a Herald who sings! Yet none had arrived, and she assumed none were coming.
And what about the missing person? Where was he? Or she? Was anyone out looking for them?
Then an idea came to her, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Lord Ellis.” She tugged on his robe. “Where is Jaques?”
“He’s been detained. No need for you to worry.” He was answering her, but he was also looking in the opposite direction, his gaze locking with Lord Dorwind. “Just . . . do the best you can.” Then he looked down at her.
“Is it okay if I go ahead and start lighting them now?”
“Oh, no . . . no, no, no. It has to be when the sun has fully set. Only then can the light dispel the dark.”
“But—”
“Ready yourself. You can do this, Twill.” And then he was gone, walking away from her and the stare of Lord Dorwind.
“Hey, Twill!” Manou came running up, huffing and puffing the whole time. He was dressed in his festival best as well and looked more like a satin pincushion than a Hold Lord’s son. “Guess what?”
Twill held back her tears. “It’s Jaques.”
“Huh?”
“The missing person. It’s Jaques!”
“How did you know?” Manou blinked at her.
“Lord Ellis didn’t say it, but Jaques isn’t going to help me. The only way he wouldn’t would be if he was taken by a Spirit. Oh, Manou . . .” She dropped the bag and put her hands to her face. “I’m so scared.” And then what Manou said got to her. “How did I know? You knew already?”
