Chapter Sixteen

In the morning, Elandra said nothing about her strange dream, not even to Magan. The world seemed filled with mystery and danger. Wary and nervous, she caught Hecati’s speculative gaze on her more than once, and Elandra made certain she stayed as far from the witch as possible. If ever the gods granted her a secure home or wealth, she vowed she would never again travel without the protection of a jinja of her very own.

At nightfall, she found her dreams once again restless and troubling, but nothing like the one in which she had kissed the tall stranger.

On the following day, their trail began to climb. They left the steaming jungle for the foothills and wound slowly into a forbidding mountain range.

The trees thinned out, and the air grew progressively drier and cooler until a sharp wind blew constantly and the air felt thin and hard to breathe.

When they reached the top of the mountains, Elandra lifted weary eyes to the heavens and saw the stone walls of a stronghold rising up above the narrow road. Something about the architectural lines of the structure made her hair rise on the back of her neck. It looked extremely old and primitive.

Indeed, with the sheer walls of the cliff faces rising up around her, Elandra felt hemmed in and increasingly trapped. She could not explain her feelings; they were deep fears, primitive and inarticulate. The age of the place filled her with uneasiness. Carved into the cliffs were ancient symbols that seemed almost familiar, although Elandra was certain she had never seen them before. Whenever she stared at them too long, a sensation of dizziness would force her to turn her gaze away.

She told herself it was the thin air that made her feel so ill, hut inside she was less sure.

Equally disturbing was the fact that they came to no village. The stronghold stood alone, completely isolated at the top of this long, treacherous road. Even then, when the road abruptly leveled out in a sort of clearing and stopped, the stronghold towered high above them. The only way to reach it was via a steep series of steps carved into the solid rock of the mountainside.

The Imperial Guard galloped ahead, banners streaming. Trumpets blared, sending up a summons that echoed loudly. The Gialtans circled the elephants, grouping them into a bunch. Thus, Elandra found her palanquin unexpectedly next to Bixia’s.

The two half-sisters glared at each other.

Bixia leaned over and said, “This time you will not usurp the honors due me. You will wait. You will keep your place. Am I clear?”

Elandra looked down, feeling humiliation burn the back of her throat. She clenched her hands in her lap and nodded silently. She didn’t trust her voice.

The trumpets blared again, and this time a gong was struck in the stronghold in reply.

Figures robed in black appeared on the ramparts, gazing down in silence. The absence of welcome and fanfare made a sharp contrast to the streaming banners and fluttering saddlecloths below.

Both generals dismounted. As they approached the steps, a single figure in black descended to meet them.

Elandra felt a chill shiver through her. She had chased such a black-robed woman in her dream. To her knowledge she had never seen a Penestrican before. Nor was she someone with the gift of foretelling. How had she known what these women would look like?

Servants scurried about the elephants, bringing ladders to help the passengers dismount.

Conscious of the need to avoid further mistakes, Elandra sat still, making no move at all until Bixia was safely on the ground. Then Elandra descended as quickly as possible. The wind plucked at her veil, sending it streaming out to one side. She found herself conscious of her travel- stained and very wrinkled gown. Her muscles ached, and her eyes were gritty from insufficient sleep. She felt wind- blasted and unkempt.

Hecati moved quickly around Bixia, straightening her gown and brushing away wrinkles. Magan did the same for Elandra, who gave the maid a tired smile of gratitude.

Then the generals, gleaming in burnished armor, swords clanking at their sides, returned from the steps.

Both bowed first to Bixia, then to Elandra.

General Handar, his plumed turban powdered with dust and his spurs jingling with every step, dropped to one knee before Bixia and bowed even more deeply with his hand over his heart.

“My lady,” he said in his deep voice, “permit this servant to wish you all the blessings of the gods in your future. I have discharged my duty in bringing you safely to the hands of the Penestricans. With my honor have I guided you to this place. With my life have I protected you. May peace follow your name. I request of you my farewell.”

It was a beautiful speech, spoken with all the honor and sincerity the grizzled old soldier was capable of expressing. Watching as he knelt there at her half-sister’s feet, Elandra felt sentimental tears sting her eyes. When Handar left them, it would cut their final tie to Gialta. Theirs was the fate of all women, to be sent forth from the shelter of their home, to make lives for themselves wherever Fate decreed, delivered like chattel and trade goods for the purposes for men.

Bixia gazed down at the commander with a smug gleam in her green eyes. “You have served well, General Handar,” she said in a bored voice. Her gaze moved beyond him, to the steps where more women in black robes had appeared. “We thank you. Farewell.”

It was a moment before he looked up. Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment or chagrin, perhaps—at her short reply. He rose to his feet and saluted. His dark face might have been carved from wood as he bowed quickly to Elandra and turned away.

As soon as he was remounted on his horse, he bawled out commands. The Gialtans galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust and the echoing thunder of hoofbeats behind.

Meanwhile, the general of the Imperial Guard was giving his arm to Bixia, who smiled and used her eyes to flirt above her veil. Together, they crossed the dusty clearing. Elandra tried to follow, but Hecati gripped her arm and held her back.

“No,” she said in a low, sharp voice. Hecati’s face was pale and marked by dark circles beneath her eyes as though the journey had been a terrible strain. Even now, with Bixia safely delivered, Hecati looked tense and nervous as she glared at Elandra. “You will wait outside with the servants until Lady Bixia is received by the Magria and properly welcomed in.”

Elandra’s cheeks burned beneath her veil, but she retreated obediently to the elephants. The handlers were still unloading baggage. Magan stood guarding Elandra’s bag. Without glancing at the maidservant, Elandra took a place beside her. Hecati hurried after her niece.

At the steps, the general and Bixia paused. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the snorting of the horses and the restless mumbling of the elephants, which were to continue to Imperia as part of Bixia’s dowry gift to her future husband.

The Penestricans had been waiting quietly on the steps. Now, however, they descended to the bottom. One woman, young and beautiful, with pale straight hair flowing down her back, walked ahead of the others. A pair of gnarled old crones with terrible mutilation scars on their bare arms followed her. They carried tall wooden staffs. The rest of the sisterhood lined the steps on either side, holding burning candles that seemed odd in the bright sunshine.

The leader’s eyes were a clear blue. Her gaze swept everyone, then fixed upon Bixia. “I am Anas,” she said in a voice that carried easily.

It was almost as though the cliff walls surrounding them formed a natural amphitheater.

Anas’s voice made Elandra think of crystal—melodic in a sharp, piercing away.

“I am deputy to her Excellency, the Magria. I bid you welcome.”

The general bowed low enough to make his armor creak. “The Lady Bixia,” he said by way of introduction. Frowning, he glanced around as though seeking Elandra, but Hecati gave him an impatient pinch and he faced the deputy again. “Also, the Lady Hecati, sister-in-law to Lord Albain, and Lady Bixia’s aunt.”

He seemed to have a ritualized speech prepared, but even as he opened his mouth, one of the Penestricans lifted her wooden staff with a sharp gesture and pointed it at the sky.

A streamer of dark cloud appeared to obscure the sun, as though it had been wiped away with a rag.

Elandra gazed upward in astonishment. She could have sworn a moment ago the sky had been cloudless. A shiver passed through her. It was said the Penestricans commanded many of the old ways. Did they govern the heavens as well as the earth and its growing things?

“Where is the other one?” Anas asked. “We were told, General, that both of Lord Albain’s daughters would be brought to us.”

Bixia tossed her head, but Hecati turned halfway around and snapped her fingers imperiously at Elandra.

“Come, girl!” she said. “Don’t hang back and call undue attention to yourself. You delay the proceedings.”

Elandra’s resentment burned even hotter. She was tempted to stay where she was, but with everyone looking at her she had little choice but to walk forward. Hecati was making sure she got off on the wrong foot with the Penestricans, and there was little Elandra could do about it right now.

Although miserable, she walked with her head high. She did not pick up her skirts and run to join the others, although Hecati snapped her fingers again. Instead, Elandra kept her steps modest and graceful as befitting a lady. If it was the only way in which she could defy Hecati, then she would do it.

She came up behind Hecati and stopped, grateful for the veil that hid her burning face from Anas’s clear blue eyes.

The deputy stared at her for a long moment without expression.

“May I also introduce the Lady Elandra,” the general said into the awkward silence.

Anas inclined her head graciously. “You are also bid welcome to our walls, Lady Elandra.”

Bixia began to fidget and sigh. “We’ve had a very long, uncomfortable journey. May we have refreshment?”

Behind her veil, Elandra gasped at Bixia’s rudeness. For once Hecati made no attempt to correct her charge or to smooth over the matter.

A flicker of something unreadable passed across Anas’s face. “Of course,” she said pleasantly. “Everything has been prepared for you.” She shifted her gaze and smiled perfunctorily. “General, according to our rules, no man may step past this point.”

He bowed hastily and moved back a step. “Yes, Deputy Anas.”

“At the base of the mountain is plentiful grass for the horses and forage for the elephants. You will find excellent camping sites near the stream. Please do not allow your men to ascend the mountain again until it is time for these sisters to depart from us.”

He bowed again. “As you wish.”

Turning smartly on his heel, he strode away. Orders rang out. The elephants were unwilling to move, but with much shouting and noise they were turned about and the guardsmen headed down the road. The mound of luggage stood abandoned and forlorn.

“That will be seen to later,” Anas said. Stepping aside, she gestured gracefully. “Come.”

Bixia gathered up her skirts with an ill-natured huff. “Why didn’t you lay out a carpet? These old steps are so rough they’ll snag my slippers. Must we climb all these steps? I would prefer to be carried.”

Again, Hecati made no effort to correct her. Elandra frowned at the woman, but Hecati seemed lost in thought. It was strange behavior for her. Usually she would be fawning and flattering, doing her best to make sure Bixia charmed everyone.

Anas seemed impervious to Bixia’s rudeness. “There is no one to carry you. Come.”

She started up with Bixia at her heels. Hecati was next and Elandra last.

The cloud still obscured the sun, and indeed it seemed darker than ever. The burning candles in the sisters’ hands flickered and blazed, although the wind did not put them out.

The steps were very steep and worn. Halfway up some were broken, making the footing treacherous. Trying to get a better grip on her long skirts, which were billowing in the wind, Elandra tripped slightly on her hem and pitched forward. To save herself, she put her hand against the small of Hecati’s back for just a second to regain her balance.

Hecati jumped as though startled, and two candles in the hands of the sisters on either side of her went out with loud pops. Hecati loosed a low, strange cry—almost a moan. The timbre of the sound made goosebumps stand up on Elandra’s arms.

At the head of the line, Anas was already turning back. She pushed past Bixia without a word and came gliding swiftly down the steps. Her face was set implacably.

Elandra tried to back away from Hecati, who was still making that eerie sound like a cornered animal. But the two Penestricans with the wooden staffs stood behind Elandra, crossing their staffs to block the way down. Their faces were harsh and suddenly hostile.

Alarm ran through Elandra. Not understanding what was wrong, she looked about.

Another candle went out, and another. The sisters standing farther up the steps now crowded down as close to Elandra and Hecati as they could get.

A cry of accusation went up: “Witch! Witch! Witch!”

Anas’s blue eyes were as bright as flames. She glared first at Elandra, then at Hecati. “Worshiper of Mael, you are unwelcome in this place of the goddess mother.”

Hecati’s face tensed into a knot. She flung an accusing finger at Elandra. “She is the witch!” Hecati cried in a shrill, ugly voice. “The betrayer has already been at work. She destroyed the sacred bridal robe—”

Anas turned up her palms. A blue globe of truth-light appeared on each of them. She tossed one at Elandra and one at Hecati.

It was all happening too fast. Elandra opened her mouth to defend herself when the light struck her forehead and shimmered down the full length of her. It felt strange and prickly, but then it pooled at her feet. When it touched the ground it turned into a tiny garter snake that slithered quickly away from the toe of her slipper and vanished.

Hecati screamed and threw up both hands, crossing her wrists as a shield. The blue truth-light struck her arms and burst in a halo of swiftly changing colors—blue to indigo to purple. A black pool formed on the ground at her feet. Instead of turning into a snake, the black ooze widened, spreading quickly toward Elandra.

Crying out, she tried to back away, but the Penestricans with the staffs still blocked the steps behind her and would not budge. The stench of something burning filled the air, as always when Hecati worked one of her spells. Only this time, although her face was strained with effort, whatever she was trying to accomplish did not materialize.

Anas extended her hand toward the ooze, and it stopped spreading. Only a scant inch from Elandra’s foot, the liquid immediately dried to an ugly scum that stained the steps.

“Mael worshiper,” Anas said again, her gaze locked on Hecati. “Witch!”

The word was as sharp as a lash. Hecati flinched.

Anas gestured. “Begone from us, dark creature. Begone!”

“What are you saying?” Bixia demanded, trying to push closer without success. “My aunt isn’t a witch. How dare you call her that. How dare you—”

Hecati glanced back and forth angrily. She made no effort to deny Anas’s accusations. Instead she glared at Anas with a mad light in her eyes. “You pious fools, your days on this earth are over. A new era is dawning, one in which the dark pair shall stride the earth and crush it!”

“No,” Elandra breathed, horrified by this blasphemy.

Hecati’s terrible gaze turned on her. “As for you, already you dance in the arms of the shadow lord—”

“No!” Elandra cried. Fear ignited in her. The half-seen figure in her dreams, the unknown lover ... it could not be. “No!” she cried again, denying it with every fiber of her being despite the doubts Hecati had awakened.

“Think of your destiny, fool,” Hecati said. “You are doomed—”

“Enough,” Anas broke in. “Go now, before we drive you into the dust whence you came.”

“You can’t send her away!” Bixia cried, still not understanding anything. “She’s my aunt. You can’t—”

“Go?” Hecati said, glaring at Anas. “You feeble creature. You dare mock the strength of She Whom I Serve. But you will regret it. We sent the Vindicants to destroy you once. They will do so again.”

“We survived,” Anas retorted, her jaw set. “We were not defeated. Our path continues, strong in the visionings, no matter how much blood you unleash on this land.”

Hecati hissed with fury, and now that sound took on a new, far more terrible meaning to Elandra. That she had grown up in the care of this creature horrified her. Hecati represented unspeakable evil. Elandra could feel the taint on her, a cold rottenness, like touching a slimy, decaying piece of fungus in the jungle by mistake.

“Let her pass!” Anas commanded to the women holding the staffs.

They reluctantly stepped aside. “Deputy—”

Anas gestured furiously, and Hecati laughed.

“They want to kill me, Deputy,” she mocked. “They want to spill my blood. Why don’t you let them?”

Anas’s blue eyes blazed. “Violence breeds violence. Spill your blood on these steps and let evil take hold practically within our gates? Let her go!”

Hecati circled around Elandra as though to take the escape permitted her. Then she paused and stared deep into Elandra’s eyes.

“No!” Bixia called, still unable to get through the press of Penestricans blocking her path. “Aunt Hecati, don’t leave me! I need you. I need you! Please, please. I don’t understand!”

Hecati did not even glance back. Her evil gaze went on boring into Elandra. “You think you’ve won,” she whispered. “I would have gained entrance here if not for you. Oh, you’re a clever girl. Clever. But the dark goddess will not forget your interference this day. No, she will not forget.”

As she spoke, Hecati lifted her hand as though to slap Elandra.

Elandra flinched reflexively, but instead of a physical blow, an intense white light struck and blinded her. Then something else hit Elandra, knocking her into the wall with stunning force. She must have cried out in pain and shock, but she could hear nothing for the roaring blast around her. It was as though the cliffs had exploded.

The roaring went on and on until she wondered if it was the end of the world finally come upon them.

Then the roaring stopped, and feeling returned to her bit by bit. Her head stopped ringing, although it ached fiercely. She felt the hardness of the steps beneath her, stone edges digging into the side of her left breast and hip. She smelted dust and a scorched scent of magic and some kind of bitter herbs she could not identify. The wind was still blowing, and the women around her were chattering with a mixture of fury and consternation. She could even hear Bixia wailing in the distance.

But despite all that; Elandra could see nothing. Instead of the shifting shapes and colors of vision, she was surrounded by a strange, unsettling whiteness. Like fog, only bright, like the glare of sunshine off the white walls of her father’s palace in summer. A painful, glaring whiteness. Not the usual dark of having her eyes closed. Not that.

Gentle hands lifted her and smoothed back her hair.

“Are you hurt?” It was the voice of Anas that spoke to her.

Elandra stared at nothing, her wits slowly returning, although what they had to face was too terrifying. She opened her mouth and could not find the words to speak. What would become of her now? How could she live her life, crippled in this way? Could anything be done?

“Get back. Give her air,” Anas commanded. “The Magria must be informed. Resta, I shall deal with you soon. You were careless, allowing a Maelite so near to us.”

“But, Deputy—”

“Hush! We cannot discuss it here. Come to my chambers later.”

“Yes, Deputy.”

Footsteps and more chatter. A cool hand on Elandra’s brow was comforting, although nothing could remove her shock and rising panic.

“Are you hurt?” Anas persisted. “Can you answer, Elandra? The witch is gone. You will not be harmed by her again. I promise that.”

A promise. Elandra swallowed back bitter laughter. Oh, a promise. She had already been harmed enough; what more did she have to fear from Hecati now? As for this self-pity flooding her, what good was it? Elandra found herself choking on the unwanted emotion, hating it.

She coughed, still supported by Anas’s kind hands, and felt tears slip down her cheeks. “I—I—” Her mouth was too dry. She choked again and bowed her head.

Someone else came.

“Be gentle with her,” Anas said quietly. “It is spell- shock. She cannot yet speak. Take her inside. No, carry her. Speak softly and make no sudden movements. We were careless, sisters. We were all careless, and see what it has cost us. The Magria will be most displeased.”

No one answered that stinging rebuke. The fact that Anas’s voice carried self-blame as well as censure made little difference to Elandra.

Two sisters carried her between them. Elandra let them do as they wished. Her mind was filled with memory and a gamut of tangled emotions. Hecati—hate-filled and vindictive—had had the last word as always. With sorcery, Hecati had taken her sight.