Eolyn Read online

  “Are you all right, Sarah?” Mage Corey asked.

  There was no detail he did not notice.

  “There’s a chill on the air.” Eolyn would speak no more of the raid on her village. She had already endured countless questions about it. “It’s too late in the season for me to be using a summer cloak.”

  “We can go back if you like.”

  “No. Autumn is fading already. I wish to enjoy it as much as possible.”

  Corey paused, removed his cloak, and set it about Eolyn’s shoulders. The intimacy unnerved her.

  “That’s not necessary,” she said.

  “I know.” He fastened the clasp at the base of her throat. It was a beautiful jewel of solid silver, intricately etched with images of Dragon. For a moment he allowed his hands to rest on her shoulders. “Is that better?”

  “Yes,” Eolyn admitted. Already warmth was penetrating her limbs. The wool cloak was impregnated with a comforting aroma of pine and winter winds.

  Mage Corey stepped away and they continued their walk.

  Although he always requested Eolyn’s permission to accompany her, the maga understood she had little option but to accept. She chaffed under Corey’s vigilance, yet found some pleasure in his charismatic presence. She admired Corey’s easy jests and natural attention to the details of the landscape: a winter hawk gliding in the distance, a fallen leaf painted in stunning colors, the harvested field illuminated by auburn rays of a chilly afternoon sun.

  “I have heard many legends of East Selen,” she said. “I look forward to seeing your home.”

  “I look forward to showing it to you, though I will not be able to for many weeks yet.”

  “What do you mean? I thought we were leaving tomorrow.”

  “You and the others depart for East Selen at dawn. I must journey to the King’s City.”

  “Why do you not take us with you?” Eolyn’s disappointment spilled out unhindered. She bit her lip, already regretting her outburst.

  Mage Corey cast her a sideways glance. “This trip holds no interest for you or any other members of the Circle. There will be no performances, and I will be locked up in meetings with the Council—which will put me in a very foul mood, I might add. All the more reason why I should go alone.”

  “But I would like to see the King’s City, the Stone Foundation of Vortingen, the great castle of the warrior kings. My grandmother told me wonderful stories about it.”

  “It is a place of grandeur, though many who knew it before the war say it has lost much of the magnificence it once had.”

  “Why did you not take the Circle there this past summer?”

  “The City of Moisehén is a difficult place. One sour-faced High Mage can kill the show. And of course, it means more work for me, managing the visits and discussions of the countless mages who reside in the city. On top of all this, we’ve put you in my act of illusions. I could not bring that to the King’s City, not yet. Though I am certain your place in the show has been reported in full by the magistrates. I will spend a good deal of time defending that decision.”

  “What will happen if you are unable to win the Council’s support?”

  “I will have their support in everything by the end of my visit. I always do. It is simply a matter of persuasive argument.”

  Eolyn turned this statement over in her mind, her fingers passing idly over the cool metal clasp that secured Corey’s cloak. She had seen him go head-to-head with almost every magistrate of every village they performed in. Always the mages challenged him with the same arguments, and always they threatened to report him to Tzeremond. Yet the Circle continued unhindered, and Mage Corey’s confidence in the security of his endeavor never faltered, not even now when he talked of defending his actions before the Council.

  “It is not just persuasive argument, is it?” she ventured, casting him a careful glance. “You are never truly concerned about the magistrate’s accusations, and you are always certain of the Council’s support. Why is that?”

  Mage Corey’s smile faded. He paused in his stride and furrowed his brow, as if struggling with the thread of a new idea, or coming to terms with some quiet revelation.

  Eolyn wondered if she had been too bold.

  “I perform a service for the Council.” Corey resumed his pace, keeping his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “The Circle is not simply a show. It is a laboratory, of sorts, invented to study alternative forms of magic.”

  Eolyn’s feet rooted into the ground beneath her.

  Mage Corey continued a few paces before he turned and focused his silver-green gaze on the maga.

  “For what purpose?” she asked.

  “Master Tzeremond and the King fear the manifestation of a new class of magic, something beyond their ability to detect or control. So they have launched a great project to try to understand the magic of foreign lands, of the Syrnte, the Mountain People, even the Primitive and Simple Magic that persists in the hearts of the women of Moisehén. The Circle is part of that project. My work is to observe the ways of our members and to study the effect of their magic on the people of Moisehén. The purpose of my yearly visits to the King’s City is to report everything I learn to the Council.”

  “And you do this for them?”

  “It is what they expect of me.”

  “But the magistrates and all the others…the threats they make to the Circle…?”

  “The magistrates understand nothing of the true nature of this endeavor. Only the Council knows, and the King.”

  “And the members of the Circle?”

  “Each person under my employ knows what I judge necessary for him or her to know.”

  Eolyn wanted to resume her pace, but her feet clung stubbornly to the ground. It was a maga’s reflex, this anchoring of one’s spirit deep into the earth when confronted with fear. Eolyn hoped Mage Corey would not recognize the technique.

  “You must understand that you are not to discuss what I have revealed with anyone,” he said.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Mage Corey closed the distance between them. His magic spread in a hush through fallen leaves, surrounding her, cutting off all retreat, and daring her to defend herself with a counter spell. He stopped just in front of her, his face a breath away.

  “Because, Sarah,” he murmured, “sometimes I like to imagine you and I live in a world where we do not feel compelled to keep secrets from each other.”

  Eolyn’s throat went dry.

  “Indulge me in this fantasy,” he continued, “and tell me: Why do you desire so much to go to the King’s City?”

  Eolyn willed her eyes to remain on his. When she spoke, her voice was steady. “It is a child’s wish. I had a friend growing up. I believe he lives there. I wish to find him. That is all.”

  Mage Corey studied her for a moment. Then he stepped away and continued his walk. The autumn earth released Eolyn’s feet. She quickened her pace to catch up with him.

  “A friend,” he asked, his voice a mask of idle curiosity, “or a lover?”

  “A friend. We were only children when we knew each other.”

  “I see. I am sorry, Sarah, but I cannot take you to the city, not because I object to you finding your friend, but because I am averse to leading fawns into nests of vipers. Though having you there would be worse than that. Vipers at least have some sense of who their true enemy is. Too many mages of Tzeremond do not possess subtlety of judgment. They do not have the patience to distinguish a true threat from a false one. That place is not safe for a woman of your...qualities. And I will be far too busy with the Council to look after you.”

  “I understand, Mage Corey.” In truth, Eolyn was now quite relieved she would not be accompanying him.

  “Still.” Corey stopped to face her once more, his expression thoughtful. “I know many people in the City of Moisehén. If you give me the name of this friend of yours, perhaps I could...”

  Eolyn’s expression put a stop to his words.

&n
bsp; “I see I am pressing too hard,” he said. “Very well, Sarah. We have had a fair exchange today: one truth for one truth.” Touching Eolyn’s chin, Corey brought her gaze back to his. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation when I return to East Selen.”

  Eolyn nodded, though she was already reconsidering her decision to spend winter with the Circle.

  “I’m pleased you will accompany us, you know.” Corey released her chin with a subtle caress. “I expect your presence will bring much warmth to the cold nights ahead.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Midwinter’s Eve

  Eolyn would have abandoned the Circle forthwith were it not for one consideration: Running away would only confirm Corey’s suspicions. Staying, on the other hand, might confuse his pursuit. Surely he would not expect her to remain if she had magic to hide. So after much deliberation, Eolyn chose the known risk of Corey’s vigilance over the unknown consequences of facing winter alone. She resolved to leave the Circle at the first thaw, make the journey to the King’s City on her own, and at last find Achim.

  By the time the caravan reached East Selen, autumn had painted the trees in deep shades of copper and burgundy. Dry leaves lay in heaps along the ground. The wind had stilled in preparation for the arrival of the first frost.

  For centuries, the lands of East Selen had been controlled by a single extended family that produced some of the greatest mages and magas in history. Though the clan perished under Kedehen’s wrath during the war, Eolyn felt their spirits wandering the hills. There was a haunting joy to their presence, a community lost in time and yet preserved by the landscape.

  Corey’s guests were housed in a rambling, semicircular manor with thick timber supports and thatched roofs. The interior was broken into cozy apartments with multiple hearths. A single large hall situated at the center of the manor provided the setting for evening meals and social gatherings. In front of the hall stood a giant fir planted by the first mages and magas to settle in the area. The entire construction rested in the shadow of a dense forest, the magic of which reminded Eolyn of the South Woods, though it seemed darker in aspect.

  When the first snow fell, Mage Corey appeared, wearied from his journey yet infused with the energy of contentment that accompanies any true homecoming. Upon his arrival, preparation for the Winter Solstice began in earnest. Mistress Renate oversaw the casting of bayberry candles and the baking of nut cakes and sweetbreads. Hunting expeditions were organized to secure fresh venison, allowing Rishona to demonstrate her exceptional abilities with the bow. Abundant branches of pine, holly and mistletoe were harvested to add fragrance and color to the dining hall. For his part, Mage Corey spent hours wandering the forest, often inviting Eolyn to accompany him, until this year’s Yule log revealed itself to his discerning eye.

  The frenetic energy of her companions disconcerted Eolyn. Although she grew up with stories of the boisterous feasts of old, her childhood celebrations of Winter Solstice had been dependably simple and quiet.

  Days before the feast, the women began airing, brushing and retouching their finest gowns. Eolyn, who had but two simple woolen dresses to keep her warm during the winter months, now wondered whether it would be appropriate to attend the midnight festival in such plain robes. Rishona resolved this dilemma by appearing one afternoon with another expression of Mage Corey’s special interest: the loan of an exquisite forest green, fur-lined gown. It had once belonged to a woman of his clan.

  “I told Corey you are not partial to wearing green,” Rishona said, “but he thought you might make an exception this time.”

  At sunset on Midwinter’s Eve, Mage Corey’s guests gathered in the dining hall illuminated by countless brilliant candles. The tables were amply spread with roast goose and venison, herbed vegetables, sweetmeats, and breads. The Yule log carried the warmth of the sleeping sun in its yellow flames, and the heady scent of pine and bayberry intoxicated the celebrants long before anyone started pouring the wine.

  Mage Corey occupied the head table, accompanied by Mistress Renate, Rishona, and Tahmir. All the other guests took their seats at two long tables facing each other across the modestly sized hall. Ample room was left between them, space that would fill with dancers as the night wore on and the wine took effect.

  The feast was well underway when Khelia burst through the heavy double doors in a thick swirl of snow, followed by several companions with musical instruments. Delighted by her unexpected appearance, the guests applauded and cheered. Mage Corey crossed the dining hall to embrace her, and she assumed a place by his side at the table.

  The celebration flourished on animated waves of laughter until at last the music started, and dancers invaded the floor. Khelia took her leave of the main table and moved toward Eolyn, indulging in lively conversation with anyone who crossed her path.

  “I’m glad to see you’re still here.” The mountain woman greeted Eolyn with a warm embrace and a kiss of friendship. “Corey’s been kind to you, then?”

  “Yes. A little too kind, actually.”

  Her eyes sparked in amusement. “Well, he does have a bit of a romantic side, though one would find it hard to believe at first. Don’t worry if he’s started showering gifts on you. He expects nothing in return, really, except perhaps a bit of honest friendship.”

  “I know.”

  “Though it’s difficult for a true woman to be honest these days in Moisehén.” Khelia’s eyes moved across the crowd of dancers. “It’s quite a dilemma, don’t you think? One can be true, or one can be honest. Which do you prefer, Sarah?”

  She turned her attention to Eolyn, as if to cut a clear path to the maga’s heart with those ice blue eyes.

  “I prefer to be true,” Eolyn said.

  Khelia smiled and lifted her cup. “So I suspected. I hear you’re quite the hit throughout the land, with your magic act.”

  “It is Mage Corey’s act, and it is an act of illusions.”

  “Yes, well, it’s all the same now, you know. They haven’t threatened to burn you yet, have they?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “That’s good news. Corey will probably keep it up for at least another season then.”

  Eolyn decided it was time to change the subject. “Where have you been, Khelia? I thought for certain you would perform with the Circle again before the season ended.”

  “Why?” Khelia flashed Eolyn a daring smile. “Did you miss me?”

  “I had hoped to have the opportunity to get to know you.”

  “Get to know me?” Khelia’s pale brows lifted. “Well, it’s difficult to know anyone inside the Circle, but we may have other opportunities if the Gods are willing. In the meantime, I suggest you do not ask where I have been, or where I am going, for that matter. Some questions are better left unanswered.”

  Eolyn’s annoyance at this relentless game of hide and seek was beginning to break through her reserve. Every member of the Circle, it seemed, guarded some secret or worked toward some private objective. In the middle of it all stood Mage Corey, weaving all their disparate threads into a single shadowy net. She wondered what stories the mage had told Khelia. In which of Corey’s realities did the mountain woman live?

  Khelia laid a hand over Eolyn’s. “Don’t let my evasions upset you. They are but the momentary price of having a true friend, instead of an honest one.”

  At this Eolyn’s mood softened. She returned Khelia’s gesture with a squeeze of her hand.

  “Come and dance, Sarah,” Khelia beckoned. “This is not a night to be thinking so much. Renate tells me you’ve quite a gift for movement.”

  “She said that?”

  “She always hands out compliments when she’s had too much to drink.”

  Eolyn laughed and followed Khelia to the floor. They danced until her muscles filled with sweet fatigue and the roots of her hair were damp with sweat.

  As midnight approached, the musicians quieted their instruments. Mage Corey’s guests convened in a circle at the center of the hal
l. This was the most sacred moment of the year’s longest night, marking the farthest reach of the sun into the great void of the Underworld. All across Moisehén, from the hearths of its peasants to the King’s great hall, the sun’s descent would be received with reverent silence.

  Moving his hand in a slow arc, Mage Corey dimmed the candles until only the flickering flame of the Yule log illuminated the room, casting such shadows that Eolyn imagined the Guendes slipping out of the woodwork to join them.

  Closing her eyes, she caught sight of the sun, a dim star in a cold black sea, a hesitant glimmer almost lost to the night. The vision ignited a deep ache in her heart, an irresistible desire to sing as she always had with Ghemena. So she lifted her voice in an ancient melody that once belonged to the magas of Moisehén, a poem of love composed for a single purpose, to bring the sun back to the world of the living.

  Adiana was the first to join her. She took Eolyn’s hand and graced the melody with the weave of her fine voice. Within moments, the other women of Moisehén accompanied them. Even Renate tried to enter the chorus, though some unseen power choked her back into quiet tears. The verse ended in resonating silence.

  When Eolyn opened her eyes, Mage Corey was watching her, his expression unreadable amidst the shadows.

  He raised the lights of the bayberry candles and turned his attention to the musicians. At his bidding the music resumed, but the circle did not break. This new melody, though unfamiliar to Eolyn, evoked a sense of deep memory.

  Rishona and Mage Corey moved to the center of the floor, where they danced around each other, giving dimension to the space between them with elegant movements of their hands. The exchange was subtle yet sensual. The air became so charged Eolyn felt her skin tingle. They repeated the pattern three times before bringing the movement to a breathless finish.