The Seekers Of Fire Part 2

"Who are you? What do you want?"

She was still glaring at him, and he could not refrain from provoking her. "I want to take you with me, on the Day of the Master."

He shifted just in time for her kick to miss his knee. "As a Science apprentice. If you want."

The Mentors had started moving again. Rianor released his grip on her and handed her back the knife. "Only use it if they decide to attack. Better yet, stay aside and let me deal with them."

She nodded, still eying him warily, and he unsheathed his own dagger and waited.

Linden watched the silhouettes intently. They did not seem to be aware of anybody in the tunnel, and gradually her fear of them gave way to curiosity. She had never seen a Mentor without being seen by him too, her thoughts scrutinized and her self-control pressured.

One of the Mentors raised his hand and seemed to be looking at something at the back of it. "I wish it worked at a distance," he said.

"Dominick, my son," the other one replied, "you should concentrate on the task at hand, and keep to yourself desires some of our brothers and sisters might consider aberrant. I will not overextend you. We go back if the two noisy young women are not here or in the next street."

Linden knew the voice. It was the Mentor to whom she had to make Confessions every thirty days. An austere old man, but he had never hurt her. Well, only because I never let him deep enough in my mind to discover the reasons to do it, she thought bitterly, resisting a shiver. She was not certain that she could do the same today if they found her and made an inquest. And they were looking for her, whether or not they knew who she was. Worse, the Mentors were also looking for Cal, and even if they did not feel like raiding people's homes, only the Master knew whether Cal had reached the safety of hers.

It was all Linden's fault. She had been so unstable after the event at the well, and today she was being mindlessly careless ... She bit her lip, fighting both tears and anger. It should not be a fault to talk and act according to your own opinions! But hers had endangered a friend, so she had to make amends.

"Old man, you know as well as I do that I did not mean this. I must say I am surprised to hear such a suggestion from you. It is our duty to find the possible reprobates, even if it takes us all night." This Mentor's voice was younger, and a certain quality in it made Linden grateful that it was not to him she made Confessions. "Reprobates should not exist!"

The young Mentor had been fingering his whip's handle, so he was not entirely unprepared when an apparition floated out of the shadows and said, "And you think that you should?"

He had known about them all his life, of course. As a child, he had been whipped often enough for believing in his grandmother's stories about women who were made of mist and danced deep in the forbidden forests, at a whim healing or killing those who dared approach them. As an adult, he himself had whipped a lot of people whose minds told stories about preternatural lands and creatures. Those who went as far as to believe that such creatures appeared in Mierber, he sent to the Bers.

Yet, now a young woman stood before him, her cloak and hair flowing around her with no wind, her fierce eyes glowing with hatred and mist. The Mentor raised his whip.

Rianor had not expected this. At one moment Linden was crouching beside him; next she was out of their hiding place, doing what would most probably cost her life. He leaped after her, ignoring the pain in his benumbed muscles, and silently cursed the Mentors, the cold, and her most of all. He was not fast enough; he watched in horror as the whip lowered and curved around her slender bodya"and then the whip stopped a centimeter away without touching her, mist fizzling away from the invisible impact. The young Mentor jerked away.

"Run!" Rianor shouted, but the silly girl did not move at all. He barely had time to notice the distorted smile she gave him, before the old Mentor attacked her from behind. Rianor jumped between them. He planted his knife between the man's ribs just as the whip stung his own face and neck. The buildings rotated around him, and he fought the desire to sit down, as his own blood dripped on his gloves.

Linden realized that the lord was hurt just as her hair fell over her face and her body started sagging. She reached towards him, but a figure that had been squatting before her suddenly dashed, hissing "Die, foul creature!" Something inside her shrieked that the young Mentor still had a whip, and she found the strength to duck and then spring forward, pushing at his hips with all her strength and managing to cut one of them with her knife. He staggered, but then his hands were on her throat and he squeezed, pulling her upwards. Linden felt her control of the knife waver, so she cut blindly, being vaguely aware that the enemy did not have a whip any more. The knife met resistance, and she felt something warm and liquid on her hands. After that, the world diluted into a ma.s.s of meaningless colors, and she collapsed to the ground together with her attacker.

Rianor managed to interpose his boot between her head and the ground a split second before her head would have clattered on the cobblestones. He hit the side of her attacker's neck with the edge of his hand, trying to control the force so that the young Mentor would faint but not die; then grabbed her shoulders and pulled her straight. Although unsteadily, she remained on her feet.

"Do not move and be silent!" Rianor snapped, then bent to remove the young Mentor's dagger from his belt. He heard her inhale sharply when he thrust the dagger into the old Mentor's body and extracted his own dagger from between the ribs.

"Youa"You killed the old man."

Rianor s.n.a.t.c.hed her hair with his weaponless hand and hauled her towards himself. "Say one more thing, and I will kill you."

He was sorry for the impulsive remark even as he was saying it because the girl's feet suddenly gave away, and the only thing that kept her upright was her hair in his hand. With a muttered curse he put his other arm beneath her shoulders, being careful with the dagger. "Stay straight. I told you that I am on your side, you impetuous woman."

The lord's b.l.o.o.d.y face floated into Linden's vision as her dizziness cleared a little. His arm was still supporting her firmly, but the healer's daughter in her knew what to look for in his eyes.

She steadied herself entirely and pushed him softly in the direction of the house.

"Let's go. My father will help."

Rianor and Linden

Night 77 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 Shortly after, Rianor lay on her parents' bed, concentrated on controlling his muscles to not flinch at the healer's touch. Linden was in the other room, and he heard occasional weeps and a m.u.f.fled soothing voice through the wall.

"Stop that," the healer said. He proceeded to capture Rianor's shoulders and pressed at two tiny spots whose existence Rianor had not been aware of. Rianor's hand instinctively dashed to his belt, and he only recalled that his dagger was away on the table when, a second later, his body relaxed by itself and the pain subsided.

The healer gave him a hard look. "I need you to calm down and lie still if I am to help you, young man."

Rianor nodded slightly. Throughout his life he had rarely faced an authority high enough to challenge his own, but right now the man was just that. He did not threaten and did not force submission, but he nonetheless radiated power that was strong and established itself in a pervasive, albeit soft, way. Rianor should not be surprised. His earlier investigations had revealed that the man was one of Mierber's best healersa"or a Commander of Life and Death, as his kind were known better. Rianor shook his head to chase the name away; the last thing he needed now was a painful memory. He focused his attention on Linden's father again and murmured, "Do not 'young man' me, if you would please, sir."

The older man gave him another hard look, and Rianor met and held his gaze. The healer did not look away.

Rianor broke the eye contact as the weeping from the other room stopped completely. He tried to stand up, fighting sudden dizziness.

The healer caught his shoulders and supported him as the objects in the room blurred and the floor started shaking. "Back to the bed now," he said with a voice that was not unkind. "I'll bandage you, and then you shall rest. We can talk in the morning."

Rianor shook his head, then straightened with some effort and looked into the healer's eyes again. "Thank you, but no, Mister Ellard. We have no time. I must leave now, and I am taking Linden with me."

The man's body stiffened almost imperceptibly and a droplet of sweat glistened on his eyebrow, but he did not reply immediately.

"I am sorry," Rianor said softly. "I did not plan it like this."

"No." The healer was a tall man, but he appeared to shrink. For a moment there was fear in his eyes, and there was pain, but then he straightened again and his face became hard. "I am not giving my girl away."

"I am not asking for your permission."

Rianor waited for the man to fully perceive his words, then grabbed his shoulders and locked his eyes. "Listen to me, Mister Ellard. The young Mentor will wake up soon. He will either think that he killed the old one himself and that she was a vision, or he will go looking for her. Or he might do both."

He released the father's shoulders and continued in an even softer voice, "Do you know what they do to reprobates?"

"What do you know about it?" the father whispered. Rianor could see the effort it cost him to keep himself in control, but his voice was level when he spoke again. "And why did you kill one of them, but left the other one alive?"

Rianor laughed humorlessly. "I am not a cold-blooded murderer, I a.s.sure you, no matter how casually I described it. It had to be done, so I did it, and I will come to terms with my own actions when I have had more time to reflect upon them. I value human life, Mister Ellard, just like a healer should." He met the eyes of Linden's father again.

"I see." The healer shook his head. "Tonight's circ.u.mstances are extraordinary and priorities are shifted, as you have discovered yourself. Even for a healer some lives are more precious than others."

Rianor looked aside. "Besides, if both of the night patrol were found dead in the street, their brothers and sisters would do quite more than look for a young woman. Your neighbors at least have a chance now."

"I am not entirely without resources, my lord. I will take care of my daughter." Ellard wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and Rianor sighed.

"I am confident that I have made myself clear, sir. The lady is coming with me."

"The lady?"

"Yesa"my lady apprentice, Mister Ellard, what did you think I meant?" He sighed again, fighting the urge to succ.u.mb to the dizziness. "With me, she will be an apprentice and a lady, and no Mentors will be able to touch her. With you and your resources, what will happen to her? Will you hide her in the slums or in the villages, and how much better do you think that will be than giving her up to the Mentors? Even if you had a choice, you would be a fool to not give her to me."

The reply came from behind his back, in a melodic voice that displayed almost no fear. "Yes, Dad might not have a choice. But I do."

There were still tears on her face, but she met his gaze unflinchingly. Then she gently but firmly removed her mother's arm from her shoulders and stepped towards him.

"It is my life you are talking about. But I thank you for saving it."

She smiled slightly at him just as her mother's worried eyes focused on his wound. The woman clenched her hands together, before she looked at her husband. "Ellard, there was no need, was there?"

So Rianor had looked bad enough for her to think about the Trial. There was no mistake in the shadow over her face. He had seen such before. Instinctively he raised his hand to silence the healer before he had the chance to utter a word.

"No, madam," Rianor said, careful to control his voice. "There was not."

Linden watched silent communication pa.s.s between lord Rianor and her parents. Then the three avoided each other's eyes, her mom still clenching her hands, her dad concentrating on a bottle of medicine, the young lord reaching towards the table to reclaim his dagger. She opened her mouth to inquire, but the sight of the weapon nauseated her. She felt the lord's other hand extend to support her as she faltered. His touch was confident despite his own condition, and it was not unpleasant. She jerked her eyes away from the dagger, the image of it in the old Mentor's body all too clear, and met his eyes again.

Dad had reached towards her, too, but he was slower, and now Mom was holding his hand and seemed to be halting him. Both were watching the young people's interaction.

"It is not the tool that is responsible for the action," the lord said softly, his words bearing an almost imperceptible hint of hardness. His gaze was intent on hers, and his hand was holding her arm firmly. Linden watched him fixedly back, barely noticing Mom shake her head at Dad as he motioned to move towards them.

"You are right, of course," Linden said, no hardness entering her own voice despite her best efforts. "The fault is entirely mine, and I will face the consequences. And I can stand by myself, you know."

The lord smiled then, the smile slowly turning from humorless to teasing. He gently released her arm, after making sure that she could really stand by herself. "Very strong-minded, aren't you, Miss Linden. I do appreciate your concept of responsibility, although you misunderstood my words. The fault is not entirely yours. It was not you who moved my hand. Still, you will have the responsibility of choice, since you seem to value it so much. Will you come with me?"

The gaze penetrating hers was serious now, and somehow Linden knew that he meant it, and that he was also showing her respect. He was a High Lord. He could force her to go with him if he wanted, and the Militia would never do anything once he had reached his House with her. Neither would they enter a House to punish a Mentor's murderer, whether the murderer be the lord or herself. The Mentors themselves could not go uninvited, either. The Bers might, but rumor claimed that they did not do that as often as they should.

Also, as the lord's apprentice Linden herself would become a lady, which was a dream, most often unfulfilled, of every common-born person who applied to join the Science Guild. If he did make her his apprentice, of course. People said that lords were not to be trusted.

Something must have shown in her expression, for he smiled. "It is not an easy thing, choice. Many consider it a terrible inconvenience."

His smile was handsome, but that was not the reason she returned it. "And some, my lord, consider the conveniences of the mult.i.tudes most inconvenient of all."

"And will you two consider it convenient to stay quiet for a moment and let me bandage lord Rianor, before he has bled to death?"

Dad inserted himself between them, bringing the pungent smell of iodine antiseptic, and Linden snapped out of the smile and the unreal light mood. It must be a strange form of hysterics, teasing a High Lord of all people, now of all times. She could not trust him. Then again, besides her parents and perhaps Cal, whom could she trust? Somehow, she was more willing to trust a man who would fight alongside her and share her opinion of choice, rather than someone who would, say, overturn a bucket on her so that she would kneel or lie trembling.

"I will come with you. But only if it will not make the situation worse for my parents."

Dad's hands trembled at that, almost spilling the medicine he was just shaking. She reached towards him, and he hugged her, and she sensed his heart missing its rhythm. Linden had talked to Mom after the Mentors, but there had been no time to talk to Dad, and she felt new tears mist her eyes. There was no time now, either.

"Mom and I will be all right, darling," he whispered, "don't worry about us. But youa"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Dad. I am."

Mom came beside them, and the three of them embraced, then Linden gently extracted herself and stood beside lord Rianor. He smiled at her again."Let's go, my lady."

"I will bandage you first." Dad was at the lord's other side now, suddenly erect and confident, scrutinizing the young man's blooded face. "No way I am letting you go outside like this."

"Mister Ellard, we have taken too long already. We have no time."

"We do have some." Linden's dad looked at her mom, then at Linden, and then once more at lord Rianor. "You know about the Healers' Trial, so I am guessing that you know about the Pa.s.sage, too. I will show you the entrance, lord Rianor of Qynnsent, and may the Master forgive me and protect all of us, so that I see my child again."

Chapter 2: Pa.s.sage.

Excerpts from Introduction to Mierenthia by Eliss Librarian, Year of the Master 391: Our Calendar is one of the gifts that the Master has bestowed upon us. The human mind is fickle and easily confused, so measuring time in the right way is essential, for a better self and for a better world. The main units of time are a second, a minute, an hour, a day-night sequence, a quarter, a year, and a century. A second equals a moment or a breath, a minute has sixty seconds, an hour has sixty minutes, a day-night has twenty-four hours, a quarter has ninety-one days, and a year has four quarters as well as the Day of the Master. The Day of the Master occurs on the day between Day 91 of the Fourth Quarter of one year and Day 1 of the First Quarter of the next. We call a sequence of a hundred years a century.

Our Blessed Master, in his Eternal Place, has ten trusted a.s.sistants, the Powers That Be. They stood beside Him once, when he freed our world from the Lost Ones. Now they watch over us together with Him, and would sometimes come to us and guide us. They watch the Edges, too, to help keep the Lost Ones away from us.

Excerpt from More On Our Mierenthia by Eliss Librarian, Year of the Master 394 Reprobates have been known to call the Bessove, those fairytale creatures with rumored powers and abilities beyond those of any human, the Powers That Be. Reprobates have also been known to insist on the Bessove's existence in the real world. This is all naught but a product of the Lost Ones spreading foulness and confusion, for the Lost Ones are always trying to reach inside our minds and break the Master's world.

There is no power but that of the Master and those who would serve Hima"and that of the foul ones who would sunder the world apart if they could.

Linden

Night 77 of the Fourth Quarter, Year of the Master 705 Linden shifted her gaze away from the fire in lord Rianor's hands. Bright little dots continued dancing in her eyes for several seconds, so she saw the stone only after her boot hit it. The lord caught her elbow as she bent aside to try to discern the stone's path by the clattering and the echoes.