Chapter 23

He stepped quickly towards her, hands outstretched. An icy blade of fear ran through her body.

Khamsin struggled to her feet.

"No. Stop!" Her voice, hoarse, broke as she called out the words. "Come no further or I’ll…," and she fingered the hilt of her sword but suddenly changed her mind. She wrenched the Orb from its case. She held it in front of her. It swayed in its cradle of silk.

"I’ll destroy it." Her voice was stronger now. She adjusted her stance like a fighter, squaring off to face her enemy.

He stopped, an odd expression on his face, a mixture of anger and confusion. "Khamsin, I’m no threat to you."

"But only if I do what you want. Bend to your will."

"How can you believe that after…"

"Because you’re the Sorcerer. Rothal-kiarr." Hatred burned in her voice. His own was flat by comparison when he answered.

"Yes, Kiasidira, I am."

Still, his voice, saying her name, shocked her.

"Then you must be stopped. This," and she held the Orb away from her body, "will tell me how."

"It will provide you with information. But it won’t make decisions for you."

She studied his face, so familiar in so many ways, seeking some glint of malevolence in his eyes, steeling herself against expected wrath. But she saw nothing: not hatred or suspicion or fear. He was just Rylan, dressed in black, with Hill Raiders’ daggers strapped to his thigh. A blue-white diamond, like the ones in the mage circle, glistened in his ear in place of the small gold star he’d always worn. From his belt dangled a small, familiar, favored amulet.

He was the Tinker. Yet she knew he wasn’t. Incomprehension mixed with fear.

"I’ll take what I learn back to Ciro."

"Ciro’s dead."

Her arms shook, the Orb momentarily feeling almost too heavy to lift.

"Why?" Her voice cracked. "Was he such a threat to you? He was just a mad old wizard, he…he…"

"I’m not the one responsible for his death. Believe me. It wasn’t my doing, nor my wish." He took another step towards the curtain. "Khamsin…"

"No! Stay where you are or I will drop this. If I can’t use it, then you won’t, either."

"You can use it, we can use it together."

Ciro had said the Sorcerer would seek Kiasidira as an ally.

"And what is it you wish to teach me, Master Ro? How to kill innocent children, slit their throats and the throats of their mothers? How to burn villages, destroy farmlands, steal babes from their cradles?"

"Those aren’t my methods."

"They’re Hill Raiders’ methods." She pushed thoughts of Egan and Druke from her mind. Now was not the time to question the feasibility of her actions. She had been born for this day. She tried to focus on the charred embers of Cirrus Cove, and not on the memory of the soft smile of a man called Rylan. Nor one called Egan. "The Hill Raiders follow your commands."

"Only the Khalar. The Magrisi pay no allegiance to me nor do the Fav’lhir. The Khalar are not wanton murderers. I wouldn’t tolerate that."

"But the day the riders attacked the Cove, you were there. They killed my husband. They hanged him and burned my house. And you didn’t stop them!"

For the first time since he entered the room, he pulled his gaze from her and stared out at the dark slit of a far window.

"No, I didn’t stop them," he said finally, turning back to face her. His voice held a heavy note of resignation, as if the admission pained him.

"But you could have."

He clasped his hands behind him. "Those were Magrisi riders, under Lucial’s command. So in that sense, I had no part in his death. But I admit it served my purpose. I wanted you too much."

She gasped in horror. "You wanted…you, you allowed death to claim an innocent man to serve your own ends?"

"Lucial sent riders after some of my people in the Nijanas, first, as a diversion. I didn’t know of the raid on Cirrus until his riders were already in the village. I did what I could to make sure Tavis and the children didn’t suffer. But I was more concerned with keeping you safe, getting you away from there."

"Why? So I could lead you to Ciro? Is that why you sent that deformed, hell-spawned creature to the Bell Tower that night? Or the one the marsh? Your pets in the dungeons, Rothal-kiarr!"

He looked perplexed, but only slightly. "What creature in the Bell Tower?"

She almost screamed at him. "The one that called my name. Said ‘Kiasidira’ with a mouth that had no lips! And looked at me with sockets that had no eyes! Ciro saved my life that night. And even he didn’t know my name until I told him. Who else but Rothal-kiarr knew to call me Kiasidira?"

"Lucial and Melande," he replied and his voice was quiet. "They knew."

"You lie!"

"Ask. Place the Orb back into the pedestal and ask it." He pointed at the translucent orb wavering in its silken cradle. "Let me show you how. It can’t lie."

She hesitated, then: "No. You’re not interested in the truth. You’re only interested in controlling the Orb."

"I am interested in the truth. As well as in the proper balance of power."

"So you thought to kidnap me, is that it? In Noviiya, with all your pretty words and pretenses, to make me do what you want. You thought to deceive me. You…"

"No, Khamsin. There was no deception."

"But you knew who I was!"

"For many years, yes. I even knew on the road outside Cirrus when you healed my horse."

She frowned as her mind raced over past events. "What was it, m’Lord," she asked, her voice now strangely quiet, "that kept you from claiming me on the road that day? Or in my own house? Why the game of being Rylan the Tinker? The lies? You could’ve claimed me the day…"

"I did. As you said, on the road when we met. I offered you my blessing. You accepted it."

"You…?" She was shocked. She had no knowledge of any claiming. Just of soft words. And a chain of brightpinks wrapped around her wrist. All innocent, harmless gestures. "But I’ve come here on my own.

If you’d claimed me, surely you would’ve…"

"Taken you forcefully?" He sighed. "Khamsin, you have much to learn and know nothing of the claim you received by accepting my blessing. By claiming you I placed my mark on you, so that as you learned who you are, you’d understand what you mean to the Land. And to me.

"But by claiming you I couldn’t force you to do anything against your will. If you came to me - just as you did in Noviiya - it had to be of your own volition."

She remembered their first night in Noviiya. She’d slept alone in the small trundle bed. But not before Rylan had given her his promise.

"Do you recall what I told you?" he asked.

"Yes. No!" The memory held too much pain.

"I told you," he said softly, "I’d never take anything from you that you weren’t first willing to give. And I’d never force you to do, or be, anything, other than what you want to be. And I said that in this, if in nothing else, you may now and forever, place your faith."

Khamsin’s throat tightened as tears pricked the back of her eyes.

"If you also remember," he continued, "I asked you in Noviiya to seek out your answers at Traakhal and you refused. And when I left, I again asked you to come with me. And again you refused. I didn’t force you but neither did I intend to ever stop asking. Khamsin, I hoped as you learned more, you’d…"

But he never finished his statement. There was movement in the room to his left, a wavering of light, a liquid motion. Suddenly a woman stood under the south window. Her hair was dark and fell like a glossy drape to her waist. She wore a golden gown patterned like a rich brocade, with chains of gold wound around her slim waist. At her throat was a solitary ruby, the size of a hen’s egg.

Khamsin thought she was the most beautiful woman she’d even seen.

The Sorcerer, however, was greatly displeased by the sight. "Melande! This is none of your affair!"

Khamsin never heard him speak in anger before. Never knew how much hatred could be portrayed in a tone until now. A chill of fear shot through her as the Sorcerer growled out his words at the figure in gold by the window. Perhaps this was the way his servants knew the Master of Traakhal.

Melande seemed not to notice at all.

"Well, Ro, it’s nice to see you, too, love." She held slim hands out towards her brother, her fingers laden with jewels. Then with a loud sigh let her arms drift back to her sides. "There was a time, you know, when he would’ve kissed these same hands. He can do that so very well. When he wants to."

She smiled knowingly at Khamsin, who suddenly felt a dull ache throb inside her. No wonder the Tinker had been anxious to leave Noviiya and reticent in returning. Even the Princesses parading through the city’s tea rooms could not compare in beauty to the woman before her.

Khamsin was barely aware that the Sorcerer was speaking, only hearing the harshness in his tone.

"You’re not welcome here, Melande. Now, will you leave or must I do that for you?!"

"What, sweetest, banish your little sister again?" She pursed her lips into a moue. "Is that how you reward all the pleasure I’ve shown you?"

"You pervert any pleasure." He spat the words at her.

"Well, if I do, darling, it’s only because you were my teacher." She walked around the room towards him, trailing a jeweled finger along the mantle, her rings glinting as she passed under the east window.

"Melande, I’m warning you for the last…!"

"At it again, Ro?"

Khamsin spun at a voice behind her and almost lost her hold on the Orb. It swayed dangerously. She was forced to clutch it against her, her thoughts on the man now striding in the direction of the Sorcerer.

He matched him in height and features, but not in coloring. The man had hair as pale as lightning.

Her question was answered before it fully surfaced in her mind. He was Lucial. And he was her father.

Khamsin gasped and thrust the Orb away from her body.

The man, clad in deep red robes, turned in her direction. "And good evening to you, Lady. Tell me, do we have here who I think we do?"

Melande stopped in her meandering. "Lucial, you don’t think…?" She scrutinized Khamsin more closely, her dark eyes narrowing.

"Of course," she breathed. "It’s little Kiasidira. My, she’s grown, hasn’t she? Child, what happened to your hair? Is that what they’re doing now in Noviiya? The latest fashion?"

"You’ve known all along who she is, damn you!" The Sorcerer pointed at Melande. "You were the one who sent the Mogra after her in the Bell Tower. That’s why you sent your riders to Browner’s Grove. To draw me away."

"I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Ro, sweetest. Why, I’ve never seen her before in my life. I only know of her because of what Lucial has told me and well, she does look like her father, you must admit. The last I heard she was growing up sweet and charming in some little backwater Cove."

"Then how did you know I was in Noviiya?" Khamsin spoke out clearly. Melande and Lucial looked at her in shock, as if unaware she could do such a thing. But the Orb granted her more than Lucial’s identity when she inadvertently held it against her. It had shown her who she truly was as well. Khamsin now understood why she had to be the one inside the circle. She saw what she meant to the Land, and the Land to her. Not to possess it, but to heal it.

She held her head a little higher, met the gaze of the beautiful Witch with more confidence than she'd even known existed in her heart before.

"Why, I just guessed you’d been to Noviiya." Melande’s hands fluttered as she spoke. "Doesn’t everyone go to the City at some time in their life?"

"Kiasidira." Lucial stepped towards her. "Child, bring the Orb to me. Before you drop it. Or someone who shouldn’t have it, grabs it." He glared at Melande.

Khamsin turned to her right, towards Melande, then left, at Lucial. "She can’t get in here."

"Someone has taught you well, daughter." His gaze shifted for a moment to his half-brother as he emphasized the final word. "Bring the Orb to me."

"I think I’ll keep it for now, thank you, m’Lord."

"Kia, Kia, you can trust your Tanta Melande," the witch purred. Khamsin glanced in her direction. "Your father, he abandoned you! Why, I remember saying to him when he told me about you, ‘Lucial, let me raise the child if you’ve no love to give her.’ We could’ve been friends, Kia, you and I."

"You don’t need friends like that, daughter."

Khamsin turned again.

"Khamsin." The Sorcerer said her name quietly. Yet she heard it as if his were the only voice in the room. "Put the Orb back in the pedestal."

"No, Kia. Bring it to me!"

"Daughter, listen to your father. Come here. I can…"

"Lucial, shut up! Kia, don’t listen to him."

Khamsin spun dizzily under the barrage of voices.

"Khamsin!"

"Kia!"

"Daughter…"

"No!" She thrust the Orb over her head. It jiggled precariously.

All were silent.

"Now," she said, her voice suddenly firm. "It’s over. There shall be no more fighting. No more burning of villages, killing of children, raping of women. There shall be no more summer snows or poison rain. It stops now. Or I smash this."

Melande’s face hardened. "You halfling bastard, how dare you dictate terms to me! Rothal, go in there and take it from the bitch." She swung one arm out towards the Sorcerer. "You can do that, can’t you?"

"Take one step and I drop it!" Khamsin shook the handles slightly.

The man in black did nothing for several heartbeats, then raised his arm. Khamsin tensed, knowing what the movement could signal. But he only ran his hand wearily through his hair. "Smash the Orb, Khamsin.

It’s the only way. They’re not going to listen to anything else. Believe me, I know. I’ve tried."

"Are you mad?" Lucial spun on his brother, his hands coming up in a threatening gesture. "That’ll kill us!

We’ll all die!"

"Just a bit sooner than expected, in sixty or seventy years. As we should have, three hundred years ago.

We’ve lived, Lucial, too long. Much too long."

"But we’ll get old!" Melande’s hands raised to her face.

The Sorcerer chuckled dryly. "You passed your two-hundred and twenty-fifth last Summertide, Melly. I wouldn’t call that young."

"Your humor, Ro, is ill timed, as usual." Lucial snapped.

"I’m tired, Lucial. Tired of three hundred years of fighting, of deceit, of treachery." He paused, his words now for Khamsin. "And of emptiness."

She knew. The Orb had shown her that as well. Rothal-kiarr had been on a journey of his own, not unlike the one she'd just experienced. But his had been crueler, more frightening. Until he turned his back on the beckoning darkness of the ultimate power that consumed Lucial and Melande. They abandoned him, then joined forces against him. Sibling against sibling.

Until a child was born in the midst of a maelstrom.

"Well, maybe you’re tired but I’m not!" Lucial lashed out at his older brother, grabbing him by the arm.

"Go in there and take the Orb away from the little tramp, or I swear I’ll…"

"You’ll what, Lucial?" There was a deadly note in the Sorcerer’s voice.

The younger man tensed visibly and snatched his hand away.

"Weakling!" Melande hissed, the venom carrying across the circle. "Kiasidira, now listen to me. You’ve carried on your foolishness long enough. You’re meddling in something you don’t understand."

"Don’t be so sure," came the Sorcerer’s smooth reply.

"But this I will promise you," she continued, overriding her eldest brother’s tones. "You will gain nothing and lose all if the Orb is destroyed. You can’t take away the powers we already have. Nor the knowledge. That’s past. The past can’t be altered. You can’t destroy us. You will simply shorten our time for revenge. But a lot can be accomplished in seventy years, Kiasidira. A lot…can…be…accomplished."

The threat was there.

Khamsin lowered her aching arms until the Orb swung before her, swirling, pulsing, like a whirlwind full of rainbows. She gazed into its depths before holding it out towards the man before her.

"Rylan," she said, almost shy in using the name she had whispered night after night in her dreams. "I’m tired, too. But I’m not yet ready to die."

And she passed the Orb to the Sorcerer as he stepped through the curtain.