The Silent Tempest: Rite Of Exile Part 6

"Seems a little unusual for something so personal."

"Personal?"

"Well, there's no shame in it. But we usually don't share our heritage with anyone besides close friends." She shrugged. "It is getting to be an old-fas.h.i.+oned custom."

Caleb grinned. "Now I understand why I was the last man in Ada to know who your mother is."

He meant it as a joke, but the blood rose to her cheeks. "It's not my fault she happens to be the Overseer!"

Caleb's smile vanished, and her anger quickly melted into embarra.s.sment. She touched his arm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that ... no matter where I go or who I meet, I'm never only a Loremaster. I'm always the Overseer's daughter!"

"I can see where that might get in the way," he said, relieved. "Be grateful there's nothing worse about your family to deal with."

At first she merely gazed at him, as if confused by his words; then she turned away.

"Have you spoken with Feitseg?" she asked.

The tremor in her voice only reinforced Caleb's fear that he had committed another verbal blunder. "No. Who's Feitseg?"

"The Underseer a.s.signed to help newcomers. He was at your Judgment today. I was wondering if you've considered a profession of some kind."

"I haven't thought about it, to be honest. I've had other things to worry about. But after those wonderful tales you told me, I'd like to try something that involves exploration. I can think of no better way to learn about your people-not to mention this beautiful country you live in."

She wiped her eyes, her back still turned. "Well, if you're sure about it, there's nothing better than studying at Gerentesk to give you a head start. I'll see if Ressolc has any openings. But you should still talk to Feitseg."

"I will." A long, awkward silence followed. "Telai," he said softly, "I'm not sure what I said ... but please don't be upset with me."

She faced him again, and she seemed not to be looking at him but into some great distance. She was so beautiful in the moonlight-a vision of strength yet filled with doubt and longing. It pulled at Caleb like a tide, yet still he hesitated, his heart waging its own little war. Then her eyes focused directly onto his, as if the answers she sought might be found there instead. It conquered him, and with one quick step he wrapped his arm around Telai's waist and kissed her.

There was nothing demure or submissive about the Grand Loremaster of Ada. So it was no surprise when she tried to pull away at first. Then she relaxed and melted into him, and all his fears and sorrows vanished in the softness of her lips, the warm press of her body.

She withdrew a little, her arms still around his shoulders. "Caleb Stenger! If this is another serving of revenge, it's definitely not a cold one."

He laughed. "No last names, remember?"

"Caleb," she corrected with a nod.

After a silent, candid exchange, he released her. He faced the city lights again, intensely aware of her gaze upon him, feeling like a fool for caving in to his guilt.

"This place seems too good to be true," he murmured, as if to himself. "Free of pressures, free of wars."

"I'm not sure what you mean by pressures," she said. "But we certainly have had our wars. Those murals should have convinced you of that."

"I know. But you still use the same weapons you did a thousand years ago. You aren't always looking for better ways to kill."

She leaned her back against the rail again. "I love Ada, too, Caleb. But that's not why I kissed you."

He drew a deep breath. There seemed no end to her ability to disarm him. "But aren't you a part of this world?" he said. "Here everything is new to me, and there's so much to discover." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "The only thing that could make me happier is if you went with me."

Her lips parted a little in surprise. Caleb waited in breathless suspense. Suddenly, a tiny, pale light floated across the balcony, winked out for a moment, and as Telai watched it repeated its performance until it lost itself in the dark canopy of leaves.

His words spilled out in a torrent. "I know this is a bit presumptuous. There's no rush, I'm willing to wait for such an important deci-"

"Caleb," she interrupted, "I'm honored. I mean that. But I can't walk away from my obligations, even if I wanted to."

He guessed another reason for her answer, but it took none of the sting away. "I suppose it is unfair of me to expect anything else right now. But there's one thing you can count on-I'll never be like Tenlar. I'll never consider love a second choice. I spent too many weeks and months away from Karla to make that mistake again."

She paled, as if struck by arrows instead of words. Caleb waited, desperate for a ray of hope, every beat of his heart a test of endurance. But it did not last. Like a battle-weary soldier at any reminder of war, the growing pain in her face was more than he could bear.

"Telai," he whispered, and held her in his arms.

She offered no resistance. There was no thought of romance, or pa.s.sion, only acceptance of the simplest gift of all, comfort. It was a dream so blissful that time itself was his greatest enemy. For like any dream it came to an end, and she turned her back again, as if unwilling to look upon the raw honesty that had finally matched her own.

He tried to think of something to say, but missed his chance. "I had Eke prepare another room," she said, "in case you're too tired to return to the inn."

Caleb's heart sank. "I'd best get Warren back. I'm not that tired, anyway."

She nodded. "I'll have Yote send for a carriage."

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Telai. And thank you for listening."

He could see part of her face now, and the city lights gleamed off the trace of a tear, evidence of an old struggle Caleb realized went far deeper than any memory of lost love. Whether it was fear, or duty, or some other dark secret, was beyond his ability. Yet there was a message-one he felt he should be able to read.

He struggled to say something more, unable to bear the thought of leaving her this way. But the wait itself became unbearable, for both of them. Telai shrugged his hands away and walked quickly to the door. Caleb was just as quick to open it for her, but awkwardly, like a boy on a first date.

It was ten minutes later, as he was riding in the carriage with Warren asleep across his lap, when the message finally reached his slow brain.

You're not the only one desperate for hope, Caleb!

Strange how her voice sounded so much like Karla's now.

7.

Jewels in the Sand The human heart is the most fickle of counselors.

- Tenlar, Master Raen of Spierel A MORNING RAIN beat softly on the tall, thick windows of Gerentesk. Caleb Stenger, alone in a small study in the northeast corner of the library, watched the blurred image of a pedestrian waver past like in a dream. So untroubled, he thought. Even while walking in the rain.

Drawing a deep sigh, he returned to his cus.h.i.+oned seat by the table. The lamplight gleamed off the worn, gilded t.i.tle of a large book: Besir Orand'itee, or The Final Wisdom of Orand, a collection of works by the most famous Prophet in Adan history.

Caleb placed the book in his lap. It was only a copy of the original scrolls, but he knew its value, and opened the yellowed pages with utmost care. Most of the written works in Gerentesk had been duplicated many times over the years by legions of dedicated scribes. And not merely works of lore and history. Texts on mining and law and weaponry were all to be found here, even books on Hodynese, the guttural language of their enemies.

Though he could not help but respect that achievement, he considered many of Orand's verses to be little more than plat.i.tudes, more common sense than philosophy. What little foretelling existed was often too enigmatic for his inexperienced eyes. Orand's boldest prophecies were like jewels in a mountain of sand, as if deliberately hidden from careless eyes.

Caleb opened the book, turning the pages to one of those rare jewels, and silently repeated the Prophet's words in his mind: Within Graxmoar, the rugged island, lies the agent of Urmanaya's grief, an open window on the innermost desires, an ancient doorway to power.

Who can know its origin? The stars cry out their shame.

Shall we call the Lor'yentre evil? Innocence wielded it, ignorance created it. It found no illness it could not cure, yet it found no virtue it could not corrupt.

Forged by madness, broken by courage, now only the past shall undo it.

It found no illness it could not cure. These same Prophets had predicted Heradnora's fall, and even the least of their prophecies contained some element of truth. Yet Caleb's eyes kept wandering to those six words that, no matter how many times he read or interpreted them, were impossible to erase from his mind: The stars cry out their shame.

It was as though in the midst of an endless crowd of screaming fanatics, one quiet voice had spoken one absolute truth.

The Second Lor'yentre, the mysterious talisman that had plagued Ada's ancestors, lay broken and useless somewhere on the island called Graxmoar. For centuries, the Raeni had hoped to find clues there to help them find the remaining source of "evil": Kseleksten, the First Lor'yentre, apparently still whole yet hidden even from the Prophets. Whatever it was named, Caleb was convinced it wasn't a myth, that there had to be some truth to it. The only thing required to take advantage of its abilities was someone enlightened enough to avoid its dangers. Someone from another world.

Perhaps his hopes were based on pure superst.i.tion. Perhaps the ancient words were nothing more than a tale of foolish nightmares masterfully written to kindle a desperate faith.

Setting the book on the table again, Caleb leaned forward and held his bowed head in his hands. Only two days had pa.s.sed since his discovery, yet it already seemed a lifetime ago-back when he was still a skeptic, reading Ada's revered tomes with none of the conviction he often heard in Telai's voice. Now Orand's words had touched him in a way he could not dismiss. He was beginning to believe.

His glance strayed to the empty chair to his left. He imagined his son there, his bright gaze intent upon the ancient writing, soaking in Ada's history as fast as he could read it. Warren had loved the old tales his mother often read to him-Ulysses and Arthur and Joan of Arc, or the folktales of his Inuit ancestors. Then the vision changed. Warren was five years older, gaunt and pale, his deteriorating mind and body robbing all joy from what little time he had left.

Caleb knew he would never find Kseleksten on his own. He was still a stranger in this world, and there were too many places where his ignorance might destroy him-such as the barrier of fear Telai had mentioned, from which no man or woman had ever returned. And Adan law explicitly prohibited anyone other than a Raen or a Loremaster to come in contact with the Lor'yentrei-broken or otherwise.

There was only one way: the sacred Oath of the Raeni.

He leaped from his chair and paced back and forth, vividly imagining the look of betrayal in Telai's face. What the h.e.l.l am I going to say to her? She's the Grand Loremaster of Ada! He had no choice but to keep this a secret, and from her point of view he would only be repeating Tenlar's mistake.

He stopped at the window again. Maybe I am.

A sound of shuffling feet from behind interrupted his thoughts. A thin, wrinkled man approached, his silver-trimmed cane suspended in one hand. In all his time here, Caleb had never seen him use it.

Ressolc's cold glance s.h.i.+fted to the table. "You're reading Besir Orand'itee. Interesting choice."

"I take it that means you approve," Caleb said.

"Orand's works are freely available-to a citizen of Ada, of course."

Caleb drew a long, slow breath. The Loremaster's shrill, insinuating tone always set his nerves on edge. But he had to keep his wits about him. "What about more advanced studies?" he asked.

"Is that why you sent for me?"

"Yes."

"You'll need to take a preliminary test to see if you qualify. And I must approve of your reasons. Have you decided on a profession?"

This was the moment of truth. Facing Telai was only the aftermath. "In a manner of speaking," he said. "I'd like to join the Raeni."

Caleb's heart sank-as if some small part of him grieved over the line he had just crossed.

The old man's eyes turned even colder. Finally he walked up and placed his finger halfway down the right-hand page.

"Translate this verse," he commanded sharply. "Aloud."

Caleb tensed, feeling exposed. Ressolc was no fool, and he had to tread carefully, lest some disastrous slip of the tongue reveal his true motives. He leaned on the table, his hands on either side of the book, and managed to keep the tremor from his voice: Evil may sleep for many generations. Yet mortal efforts cannot forever prevail. The power that wakes shall be a bringer of evil for the newcomers, and a bringer of strength for their foes. Whosoever possesses the Ornament of Yrsten shall be that bringer, whether man, woman, child, or spirit.

He looked up. "Shall I go on?"

"No, that's enough. You misread a few words-you should have said finds, not possesses, for example-but you did better than I expected. The ancient tongue of Adan lore is difficult to master."

"Then I have your permission?"

"Not yet. I must consult with the Grand Loremaster first." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Caleb blurted, stepping forward. "She's here?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Perhaps it might be better if I spoke with her directly."

Ressolc smacked the end of his cane on the floor. "Enough! There's something you need to understand, Caleb Stenger. I only accepted you as a student because she holds you in her favor. You'll find I hold a much higher standard for those who wish to join the Raeni!"

"Sir, I mean no disrespect," said Caleb, seething. "But I already asked Feitseg about this. You don't have the authority to refuse my right to take the Oath. Only a Master Raen can do that."

"I never said as much. You may choose any library in Ada-a.s.suming you can find someone willing to teach you. But everything between the walls of Gerentesk falls under my jurisdiction, not the Master Raen's. Any appeal to the Grand Loremaster must go through me!"

He turned on the spot and walked out the door.

"Please, my lady," said Hedilya, her fair skin reddening. "I ask that you give this matter a little more thought."

"I'm not sure I like what I'm hearing," said Telai. "Are you suggesting I haven't?"

Hedilya, administrator of the library in Welfene, s.h.i.+fted her large bulk in the chair on the opposite side of Telai's desk. "I beg your pardon. A poor choice of words. I'm just worried about my students. They're already overtaxed by the new curriculum you ratified a few years back, and our resources are limited. Now you're asking me to expand it even more. Our more traditional fields of study are bound to suffer."

Telai glanced past the administrator at the shelves of books and parchments typical of a Loremaster-many of them old, revered tomes Ada's instructors had been relying on for centuries. Yet here and there a new binding stood out from the old-books on Trethan law, a collection of trade routes gathered from foreign merchants, the journal of an old historian from Keglar, a tiny country to the south at the mouth of the Quayen. There were countless shelves in Gerentesk, all of them filled with age-worn bindings, and it had grown too musty for its own good.

"Hedilya, I wouldn't be where I am now if I didn't value Adan tradition. That will always take precedence. But we can't afford to let provincialism take root in the younger generation. I've begun an accelerated program for Ressolc's scribes to copy the newer material for our libraries. Once that's finished Ressolc will start training more teachers to help. And I won't expect results until you have those resources you speak of."

Hedilya looked crestfallen. "As you wish. Is there anything else?"

"No. Do you have a place to stay?"

She hefted her bulk out of the chair. "Already arranged. Thank you." She turned to leave.

"Hedilya?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"You'll get the help you need. That's a promise. I don't want to lose one of my best administrators."