Circle Of Magic - Tris's Story Part 6

Introductions were made. Tris, aware that everyone was now watching her, got up and began to clear the dishes.

"You should be glad to see family," Daja murmured. She poured hot water into the tub they used to wash dishes. "You don't look happy."

"They got rid of me," retorted Tris softly, letting some plates ease into the tub.

"Was he part of it?" Sandry whispered, taking the hot water kettle from Daja. She yawned, and nearly spilled its contents on the Trader's feet.

"No, he..." Tris looked back at the table.

Aymery was telling the dedicates and Niko, "I had to use the library here for my studies. I'd almost finished with my mastery credential..."

"He left before they got rid of me for good," Tris said quietly, remembering. "That same fat toad that tested me for magic-"

"The one who said you didn't have any?" Briar asked, taking up a towel so he could dry the clean dishes.

"That one. He tested Aymery and said he ought to go to Lightsbridge. Usually Aymery visited for the winter holiday. Summer ones, too, for a while. The last time he was home at all was two years ago."

"He dresses like a Bag," Briar remarked. "I like his glitter." A tug of his fingers on his earlobe told the girls he meant Aymery's earring.

Tris turned her head sideways - it was still the best way to look for magic, on the edges of her sight. She didn't notice that her friends did the same thing. There was magic in Aymery, sure enough, a s.h.i.+ft and glimmer of pale light twined around his core, as well as a bright spot on his earring. Aymery's magic was a pale moonglow, almost blotted out by the suns that blazed in Lark, Rosethorn and Niko.

Did she glow? she wondered. Turning her head, she examined her friends. Did they?

She thought she saw something in them, but it s.h.i.+fted and hid when she tried to pin it down.

"Tris," Rosethorn said. She pointed to her workshop: the nestling was calling. "This should be the last feeding of the day."

Hurriedly Tris poured the last of the goat's milk into a cup, and carried it into the workshop. Once it was safely in the little pan, she put it on to heat. Her nestling was cheeping more loudly than he had that morning. This has to be a good thing, she thought, though at the moment it simply made her nervous. The milk seemed to take forever to warm and she had almost forgotten the honey. Running to the supper table, she grabbed the bowl and carried it back, to gently add a tiny spoonful to the heating liquid.

At last it was warm. She took the pan off the heat, stinging her fingers, then thrust in the reed and capped the dry end with her finger. Gently removing the handkerchief that sheltered her charge, she could see that he wanted to be fed, right now. Carefully she dripped milk into his yawning beak, until he'd had enough. Staring up at Tris, he burped, and settled down to sleep.

"You do that very well."

She twitched, getting a drop of milk on her cheek. Dabbing it off with a bit of cotton, she looked at her cousin. He leaned on the counter, his dark eyes serious. He was nearly twenty-two, she remembered, one of three boys and two girls in her uncle's family. He was their pride and joy, the future mage who would make them rich.

"I've been practising all day." She covered the nest carefully, and blew out the candle that served as her cook-fire. With relief she saw that the sun had finally pa.s.sed below the top of the outer wall.

"Why aren't you in Ninver?" he asked. "All Master Goldeye would say is that you're his student. I'm envious, you know. Niklaren Goldeye is on the Mage-Council of Lightsbridge. He's very famous."

"Will you stop talking long enough for a person to answer your questions?" she demanded.

He smiled, but there was something nervous in his eyes. "Sorry. I guess I'm excited, meeting him, and - and finding you, of course. Why are you here?"

"They didn't want me," she said flatly. "They gave me to Broken Circle Temple, and Broken Circle sent me here. I didn't know till I'd been here for weeks that Broken Circle sent me because I had magic."

"Do you mean the magic-seer didn't find it?" Aymery wasn't looking at her; instead he drew invisible signs on the counter-top. "He saw it in me."

"Not me," she said, her temper starting to heat. "The family, and Broken Circle - they thought I was possessed, or haunted, or - not all human. They..." Bundles of herbs drying overhead rustled. Leaves on the floor whipped, shaken by the rising wind.

Tris glared up into her cousin's face. Now that she thought of it, Aymery - whose eyes always looked as if they smiled just for the person he looked at, even when the person he looked at had been her - Aymery had always been kind. He'd never done her any harm. Tris sighed, and let go of the rage that had been growing in her throat. Leaves dropped back to the floor. Herbs settled, their fragrance drifting around the room.

"Niko says my magic's - strange. It's tied into the weather. I don't understand it myself."

Aymery shook his head. "They told us a mage never stops learning new things. Ah - Trisana-"

"Tris," she said. "Only Cousin Uraelle called me by my full name."

"Tris. I had a letter from Mother - it was waiting for me when I got here. She says Uncle Valden is ill, maybe dying. I think you should go home, as soon as possible."

She blinked at him. How on earth was she supposed to feel about news like this? "If my father wants me, he'll send for me," she snapped. Herbs rattled overhead, harder than a moment ago; leaves and dust twirled on the floor. Breezes plucked at their hair and clothes. "The last time I saw him, he told a stranger that he and my mother didn't want me back. Not ever!"

"You can't let that stand in your way," Aymery insisted. "Go home while you can - that's what I'd do. Go home, now, and make your peace with him. I'll give you money for your pa.s.sage. And there's a s.h.i.+p in Summersea-"

The herbs were now flapping in the air, tossed by the rising wind in the little room.

One bunch snapped from its mooring, and flew through the door into the main room.

"Tris," Niko called in a warning voice.

Briar leaned into the door, the bunch of herbs in one hand. "Get hold of yourself!" the boy hissed. "If you make a mess after all the straightening I did-"

"What is it? What's the matter?" Aymery wanted to know, looking from Briar to the blus.h.i.+ng Tris.

She knew what it was. She'd started to lose her temper again, heating up the air around her. If she didn't calm down, she could start a whirlwind in here - small thanks for all Rosethorn's kindnesses today. Taking a deep breath, she folded her hands before her and counted, slowly, thinking only of her breath and the numbers.

The air in the workshop went still.

"Master Niko! Master Niko!" shouted someone from the front of the cottage. "You're needed at the Hub!"

Tris and Aymery followed Briar into the main room. Everyone was staring at the dishevelled novice who clung to the door-frame, panting.

"What's wrong?" asked Niko, rising from his seat.

"You won't believe it," gasped the novice. "It happened, it happened just a few minutes ago. Every crystal and mirror in the seeing-room shattered. Every one! Even the water-bowls where people look for visions broke!"

Niko left the cottage at a run.

"But that's impossible, isn't it?" Rosethorn asked Lark nervously. "The Hub is spelled for protection, inside and out."

"A tremor in the earth?" suggested Aymery. Tris, standing close to him, noticed that his hands were shaking.

"None of the mirrors or crystals so much as cracked during the earthquake," Lark said. "None of them."

Aymery sighed. "Well! I'd only be in the way, if I offered to help. I may as well go to the library and start my research. May I claim a kiss, cousin?"

Tris scowled at him. Undaunted, Aymery kissed her on the cheek. "You should go home," he whispered. He thanked the women, and left.

Lark remained at the door, staring unhappily at the Hub. "What could do this?" she whispered. "It leaves us blind to whatever the future throws at us. Haven't we had enough surprises for one summer?"

CHAPTER SIX.

It was not even three in the morning when Tris opened her eyes. Something was wrong with the air. The winds that usually blew across Winding Circle from the north at this hour were turning, coming back when they should have been headed out to sea.

She felt as if a heavy animal paced overhead, pressing her down, making it hard to breathe.

Her starling was asleep, and shouldn't wake until dawn -which was still a good two hours away.

Somehow she dressed, bundled her hair under a kerchief, and stumbled out of the cottage. Little Bear followed her to the southern wall and up the stairs. For Tris, climbing was agony to legs that still ached from the long hike to the Bit Island Tower.

She gritted her teeth and kept moving, trying not to trip on her skirts or the dog. Once atop the wall, she found the spot where the four had been the night before, and peered out to sea.

The strangely baffled wind twitched around her like a bad omen. Above the Circle to the north it was a fine night, with no clouds to veil the stars or the thin sliver of the moon. On her right, the glow of the Maja beacon shone over the dark hump of Bit Island. The peninsula on her left was dark with the Pirate's Point watchtower gone.

Directly ahead, over a mile out to sea, a storm waited, its ma.s.ses of towering clouds flickering with lightning. Sheets of rain kept her from seeing any distance into it. It stretched in a broad, heavy band as far to the west and the east as Tris could see, moving slowly on the harbour islands and down the peninsula.

She frowned. The land breezes should have been sucked right into the thing, feeding it. Instead they stopped at its leading edge, as if they had struck a wall. Tugging the tip of her nose, she turned her head slightly. Everywhere the cloud ma.s.ses touched the side of her vision, silver light blazed.

Tris shut her eyes and inhaled, creating stillness within. Her mind leaped free of her body, grabbing air as it rushed by. Down she spilled, riding the wind as it flowed over the torn ground leading from the south gate to the sea. She sped along the water, foam-topped waves tickling her belly. Soaring up, she dived in...

And slammed into a gla.s.s-smooth wall. Hissing in fury, the wind/Tris thumped the obstacle, and raced back to sh.o.r.e. Finding a stronger gust, she rode it straight at the ma.s.s, to smash into its gla.s.sy front. She skidded up its length, expecting to slide a long way: true storm-clouds would rise at least three miles into the air. Instead, at a most unstormlike height of less than a mile, she zipped over a hump of some kind.

She slid over the hard roof on the ma.s.s for two miles or so, feeling no breaks or entrances under her. Riding with her fellow breezes, unable to drop to the sea and get comfortable, she circled, as balked as a cat who'd just lost a mouse. Her trip back to sh.o.r.e was shorter by a hair than the trip out. The thing, whatever it was, was rolling forwards slowly. When it reached the land, would it tell her where she could blow there, too?

A dog's shrill yapping broke her concentration. Tris was jerked from the wind back into her own mind.

"You again. Look - you shouldn't be here." It was the tall,

thin guard of the night before. His partner stood nearby, a crossbow in one hand, Little Bear's collar in the other. The pup barked and struggled to get free. "A pirate scout was reported in the cove this afternoon," the man continued. Tonight the guards wore battle gear: helmets and leather jerkins studded with metal rings, scarlet tunics that fell to mid-thigh, and heavy sandals. "No visitors allowed. And can't you make your dog shut up?"

"No," said Tris flatly. She pointed at the storm. "Does that look normal to you?"

"It's a storm," replied the woman guard. "We could use the rain."

"If that's a storm, then I'm Duke Vedris," snapped Tris. "Storm-clouds reach up for miles. These aren't high enough even for an afternoon squall!"

The guards traded looks.

"Am I a mage or am I not?" yelled Tris. Puffs of wind teased her hair, tugging the kerchief from her head and sending it flying off the wall. "Last night I was a mage, and so were my friends. Now, either I'm a mage, and you ought to listen to me, or you handled us wrong last night. Which is it?"

"It won't hurt to let the captain know what she says," the woman remarked slowly. "I don't know much about storms."

"I do!" said Tris. The wind yanked not only at her clothes, but at the guards. Taking deep breaths, she fought to control her temper. This was no time to see how strong a wind it would take to knock her into the cove. "Will you please listen to me?"

Abruptly the man turned and trotted down the wall, bound for one of the stout round towers that flanked the South Gate. When he returned, another man - shorter, stockier, black-skinned - came with him. Tris repeated what she'd told the guards to the newcomer, who raised a long metal tube to one eye, and pointed it towards the storm.

"She's right." He lowered the tube. "That's no real storm. You..."

"Tris," she supplied, when she realized what he waited for.

"Tris. Good work. Now, take your dog and go back to bed. We'll have the warrior mages out here in no time."

Breathing easier now that someone believed her. Tris took Little Bear's leash and went home.

"Daja," a male voice said in her ear. "Daja, wake up."

"Go 'way, Uneny." Asleep, she thought it was her older brother. She thought that she was still in her hammock on Third s.h.i.+p Kisubo. "I'm not takin' your watch for you."

"Daja, it's Frostpine. I need you."

She sat up, planning to box Uneny's ears.

Her bedside candle was lit. She was in a landsman's house, on a standing bed. From the corner, the G.o.d-statues of Trader Koma and Bookkeeper Oti s.h.i.+mmered in the flickering light of her candle. She blinked at her teacher. "Frostpine?"

"We have work to do. Get dressed." He put a steaming bowl into her hands, and left.

The bowl was filled with hot chocolate, a rare and expensive drink served only on important occasions. Impressed, she put on her clothes, sipping the sweetened liquid.

By the time she padded downstairs, she was wide awake. Glancing out an attic window, she saw by the Hub clock that it was just after five in the morning.

Lark and Rose thorn were seated at the kitchen table, looking bleary-eyed. Even Little Bear, who liked to bark as everyone got up in the morning, was sprawled before the cottage altar, fast asleep. Frostpine, pacing the floor, smiled as Daja reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Sit." He gently pushed her on to a stool by the table. "Are you awake?"

Daja nodded as she finished b.u.t.toning a red gauze s.h.i.+rt.

"Good. Listen to me: I've been asked to do something dangerous." Crouching before her, he gathered her hands in his. "There's a masking spell stretched from the Emelan Peninsula east, past Astrel Island and the Duke's Citadel. We're nearly certain it's covering a large pirate fleet. His Grace wants me to renew and strengthen the spells on the chain that blocks the harbour mouth now, which means working right under the pirates' noses. I could use your help, but only if you understand the risks. We'll be covered by powerful magical s.h.i.+elds, but it's one thing to know you're safe in your mind, and another to know it in your belly."

"Think about this, Daja," Lark said, her usually cheerful voice husky with sleep and worry. "You'll be in a boat - you won't be able to run away if the fleet attacks. You won't be able to change your mind once you're out there."

Daja looked into Frostpine's bright, dark eyes. "What kind of s.h.i.+elds do we have?"

"A chunk of the spell-net we dug up yesterday. Think about this a minute, girl. I'll die before I'll let anything happen to you, but if you're afraid, I want to know it now."

She stared through the open door to Lark's workroom. A year ago, Third s.h.i.+p Kisubo was about to put to sea out of Hajur when Fifth s.h.i.+p Kisubo limped into the harbour.

She had just survived a pirate attack with tattered sails and a charred aftercastle. One mast had been sheared off in the middle. When they lowered the gangplank - when the crew of Third s.h.i.+p Kisubo had gathered on the dock to help the first one to disembark from Fifth s.h.i.+p was Uncle Tiwolu. His sweat-streaked ebony face was sorrow-twisted. In his arms he carried the b.l.o.o.d.y corpse of Aunt Zayda, the s.h.i.+p's captain, riddled with jishen arrows.