That could be part of her problem, she thought, and grimaced. In Copeham, she had buried herself in the work of running the inn and raising the children, to avoid thinking. Corrana’s arrival had shaken her out of that rut, but she realized with chagrin that she had fallen into the same pattern again. The needs of the journey had replaced running the inn: finding food and water and firewood, choosing a place to camp, practicing her swordcraft, teaching Mark and Dara, deciding how far to travel next day and whether to spend some of their dwindling store of cash on an inn.
And she had allowed them to occupy her mind, seldom thinking of the decisions that lay ahead at the end of the journey. Now she was faced with those decisions, and she felt almost as unprepared for them as she had been in Copeham.
Kayl rose and walked softly to the window, careful not to wake Mark or Dara. The wooden shutter and the oiled cloth nailed over the opening kept direct winds more or less at bay, but it was still a cold and drafty place to stand. Kayl peered out the cracks around the edges of the window, trying unsuccessfully to see what sort of day it was outside. Finally she abandoned the attempt and returned to the slightly warmer area beside the door.
What was she going to do about the Sisterhood? Part of her wanted desperately to be one of them again, to have Dalessi’s warm and friendly wisdom to lean on, to know other women who understood what she meant because they shared the same background and beliefs. To have a family again. Another part of her whispered persuasively of the more tangible benefits the Sisterhood could offer: food, clothes, shelter, an education for her children, work that suited her.
Yet she knew it was not so simple. Even if she could forget everything that had happened in the aftermath of her long-ago trip to the Twisted Tower, there would be Sisters who could not. And Kayl had spent fifteen years outside the Sisterhood, eight of them married to a Varnan wizard; she no longer shared the background of most of the Sisterhood. Nor did she share all their beliefs.
As for her children, Kayl doubted that Mark would ever be happy in the Children’s Hall. Dara, on the other hand, would probably adjust fairly well. But Kayl knew from experience what such an upbringing meant. She did not want to become a stranger to her children, separated from them for six months or more every year when she traveled to other cities on the business of the Sisterhood. Nor did she want Dara pressured into joining the Sisterhood.
There was also the matter of the Sisterhood’s attitude toward Varnans. Kayl sighed again. If Corrana were typical, the Sisterhood had changed little in that regard, and all for the worse. There seemed to be other changes, too, changes Kayl did not yet completely understand. And there was the mission to the Twisted Tower, and Glyndon’s visions, and Kevran’s rod. Somehow they were tied together, and Kayl could make no firm decisions about any of them until she understood how and why.
Mark stirred restlessly and sat up. Kayl rose to begin getting her children ready for the new day. She hoped Glyndon would be down in the serving room by the time they arrived. She had a great deal to discuss with him.
Though Kayl and her family lingered over breakfast, Glyndon did not put in an appearance before they finished. He was presumably sleeping late; on reflection, Kayl found this quite reasonable. She was considering the advisability of going upstairs and awakening him, when she became aware of someone standing beside her.
Kayl looked up. A girl of about fifteen stood waiting patiently to be noticed. She was wrapped in a heavy wool cloak; the dark gray robe of a student at the Star Hall showed beneath it. She bobbed her head and said, “Sister Kayl Larrinar? Your Justice?”
“I’m Kayl Larrinar,” Kayl said, ignoring the startled looks Mark and Dara gave her. “But I’m no longer of the Sisterhood. Just call me Kayl.”
“I bear a message for you from the Star Hall,” the girl said, and drew a folded parchment from inside her robe.
Kayl took it, broke the seal, and read it. It was a politely neutral request that she come to the Star Hall as soon as she could; her children would be welcome as well. There was no signature, only the stylized figure of the eight-pointed star of the Sisterhood.
“How did the Sisters know to send you here to look for me?” Kayl asked the girl, frowning. “I didn’t tell them where I would be staying.”
“This is the third inn I’ve been to,” the girl said. “And I think they sent out other messengers besides me.”
“Thank you.” Kayl smiled slightly. The Sisters were more anxious to see her than the tone of the note implied, then. Kayl was tempted to refuse the summons, but she had no real reason to do so, and she was curious. She could wait a few more hours to talk to Glyndon.
“Uh, Mistress?” the girl said uncertainly. “Will there be any reply?”
“I’ll come,” Kayl said. “Mark, Dara, run up and get your cloaks. And bring mine down with you, please.”
While the children were gone, Kayl borrowed a charcoal stick from the innkeeper and wrote a brief note to Glyndon on the back of the one from the Sisterhood. She folded it with care and left it with the innkeeper. At least Glyndon would know where to find her if he needed to.
Mark came clattering down the stairs with Dara close behind. Kayl took her cloak from them and wrapped it around herself, then checked to make sure that both children were warmly wrapped as well. The messenger waited with growing impatience, then led the way.
The day was cold and gray. A low sheet of clouds hung in the sky, threatening more snow. Kayl’s breath rose in a white column of mist, only to be snatched away by a brief gust of wind.
“Ugh,” Mark said. “I hate winter.”
“You didn’t say that yesterday,” Dara pointed out.
“Yesterday it was sunny and everybody was out doing things.”
“It will be warmer by the time we’re on our way back,” Kayl said. “And if it’s nice enough, we’ll take the long way around and I’ll show you where the nobles live.”
“And the Queen’s Palace?” Mark said. “With the Shanhar guards, and the messengers waiting on horses all the time?”
Kayl laughed. “If the weather’s better.”
Mark gave an excited skipping bound and almost bumped into the messenger girl from behind. Kayl called him to order, and they walked a little way in silence.
“Mother,” Dara said softly as they rounded a corner, “why did that girl call you ‘Your Justice’?”
“Because that’s how warrior Sisters are addressed,” Kayl said. “Healers are ‘Your Mercy,’ sorceresses are ‘Your Prudence,’ and demon-friends are ‘Your Compassion.’”
“That’s weird,” Mark said.
“You never called Corrana any of those things,” Dara said.
“Corrana is an Elder Sister; they are all addressed as ‘Your Virtue,’ no matter what their specialty, just as Mothers are all addressed as ‘Your Wisdom’ and Elder Mothers as ‘Your Serenity.’”
“Like that woman we saw yesterday,” Dara said.
“That’s right,” Kayl said.
“Do we have to remember all that stuff?” Mark asked with trepidation.
“If we’re going to have much to do with the Sisterhood, you’ll have to learn,” Kayl told him. “You may as well start now.”
Mark groaned and gave Dara a disgusted look. “You had to ask, didn’t you?”
The remainder of the walk to the Star Hall was consumed by instructing Mark and Dara on the general points of etiquette among the Sisters of the Stars. Mark was determined to remember only the absolute minimum necessary to meet his mother’s standards of politeness, but Dara was fascinated by the elaborate shadings of address that were possible. Kayl had to caution her not to attempt to use them herself. It would be all too easy for Dara to accidentally offend someone.
When they reached the Star Hall the messenger left them in the outer courtyard. The wait was brief; Mark’s restless prowling had taken him less than halfway around the boundary of the courtyard when a brown-haired young woman with a scar across one cheek arrived. She took charg
e of Mark and Dara with brisk firmness, and directed Kayl to one of the inner waiting chambers.
“I would rather keep the children with me,” Kayl said. “And I’d like to know why I’ve been called here.”
“I believe it has something to do with checking some old records,” the woman said. “I don’t think these two would find it very interesting, do you?”
“Checking records?” Kayl asked. “Are you sure? The message sounded more urgent than that, and besides, I’m no scholar.”
“I’m sure it will all be explained to you. It’s the second door from the end, remember; make yourself comfortable while you wait.” The woman nodded a farewell at Kayl and guided the children out of the courtyard.
Kayl let them go, though she felt uneasy about the whole situation. She told herself not to be foolish; she was simply overreacting to this highhanded rearranging of her plans for the day. She would have a few things to say to Dalessi or Corrana or whoever had summoned her so peremptorily. Frowning, she went into the main building, through the atrium, and down the hall. She paused before the second door from the end, then entered without knocking.
The room was quite small; the two wooden chairs and brass brazier were almost the limit of the furnishings it could comfortably hold. A wide band of brown and cream tile circled the walls at shoulder height. On the opposite side of the room, a small woman in a light gray robe stood with her back to Kayl, staring out the window into the inner courtyard. Her dark hair was pulled back into a smooth, tight knob at the nape of her neck.
At the sound of the door closing, the woman turned. Her eyes widened and she took a step forward. “Kayl!”
“Barthelmy?” Kayl said incredulously.
“Who else?” Barthelmy hesitated a moment more, then ran across the room and threw her arms around Kayl. “Oh, Kayl, it’s so good to see you!”
Kayl returned the hug and felt a knot of tension dissolving in her mind. Tears stung her eyes. She released Barthelmy and stood looking down at her for a moment, then grinned.
“What’s funny?” Barthelmy said, sniffling above her own smile.
“Your hair’s coming down.”
“Blast. I should have known better, but Cera was awfully persuasive.” Barthelmy frowned, then reached back and rummaged in her knob of hair with her fingers. A moment later she shook her head, sending the mass of black hair flying in all directions.
“Now I know it’s you,” Kayl said. Her grin broadened as Barthelmy looked around for a place to put the pins that had held her hair in place. “Leave them on the window,” Kayl suggested.
Barthelmy nodded absently and crossed to the window. When she turned back, her face was grave. “Kayl, I—I’m sorry about that last night,” she said with difficulty. “I wouldn’t really have let them blame Glyndon and Kevran, you know.”
“I know. I should have known then.”
“Why? You didn’t expect the Elder Mothers to plan it, but they did. And the way I was talking, I sounded as if I agreed with them.”
“We were both tired and hurt and confused,” Kayl said. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“But I do,” Barthelmy said quietly. “If I’d kept my mouth shut, I might have persuaded you to stay here.”
“Maybe,” Kayl said. She remembered Barthelmy saying in a hard voice, “The Elder Mothers are right! Why not blame the Varnans?” Had that really been the final straw, the last betrayal that had made her flee the Sisterhood into fifteen years of exile? Kayl shook her head uncertainly. “I don’t know. I think I would have gone anyway. It would have been a little harder to leave, that’s all.”
Barthelmy did not look convinced, but she did not pursue the subject. She motioned Kayl to one of the chairs and took the other herself, then said, “What did you do? After you wrote all those letters, I mean.”
“I left Kith Alunel with Glyndon and Kevran. They were going to go back to Varna to see if there was a way of stopping Glyndon’s visions.” Kayl smiled reminiscently. “Kevran and I sort of got sidetracked along the way.”
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Barthelmy said with a grin. “But why didn’t you ever send word back?”
“After the scene I made when I left? And then marrying a Varnan wizard? It would just have stirred everyone up again.”
“It might have been good for them.”
“Possibly. But at first I didn’t want to take the chance, and later… later I had other things to worry about.”
Barthelmy nodded sagely. “Two children, Corrana said.”
“Two children and an inn. That’s enough to keep anyone busy!”
“I wish I could have seen it,” Barthelmy said.
“I’m surprised you didn’t. Or is there some special reason the Elder Mothers sent Corrana looking for me, instead of sending you?”
“Didn’t Corrana tell you?” Barthelmy said, frowning.
“Apparently not. She wasn’t exactly forthcoming about anything, frankly.”
“Oh. Well, the Elder Mothers wouldn’t let me go out to look for you because we were at the Twisted Tower together. They think we know more about it than we told them, and they’re sure it has something to do with the problems the Sisterhood has been having with magic. They’ve been being very careful and secretive with everyone involved. I’m surprised they put us in the same room to wait for the Council meeting.”
Kayl stared, then slowly shook her head. “Barthelmy, I didn’t get more than a third of that. And what’s this about a Council meeting? Mother Dalessi said that wasn’t for another two days!”
“Elder Mother Dalessi,” Barthelmy corrected. “You’ve seen her? That’s why they moved the meeting up, then.” Barthelmy nodded in satisfaction. “I was wondering.”
Kayl took a deep breath. “Barthelmy, if I don’t get an explanation of all this, and get it right now, I’m going to shake you until your teeth rattle.”
Barthelmy grinned, and for a moment looked exactly like the impish girl Kayl remembered. “All right, then, but it’ll take awhile.”
“I’ve got time,” Kayl said, and leaned back in the chair.
“The main problem,” Barthelmy began, “is the magic. The Elder Mothers noticed it first, about twelve years ago, as a kind of shadow interfering with their far-seeing. No one could discover a reason for it, no matter how subtle the spells they used. It was just a puzzle, at first, nothing serious. But it kept getting worse.
“It started affecting more spells, not just the complicated ones the Elder Mothers use. It was very slow; it took almost five years to be a problem with anything really important. The Elder Mothers discussed it thoroughly—you know how long that takes—”
Kayl snorted.
“—and eventually they decided to do a joint spell, with all the Elder Mothers cooperating.”
“All of them?” Kayl had never heard of more than sixteen Elder Mothers working together on a single spell, and that had been to counter the Varnans’ magic during the Wizard’s War.
“All of them. They sent messengers all over the Alliance, even to the tiniest Star Halls.” Barthelmy shook her head, remembering. “I don’t think there’s been a spell-casting like it since before the Wars of Binding, but it didn’t work. The shadow or the interference or whatever it is was as bad as ever. And the thing hit back. Twenty of the Elder Mothers died before they could break out of the linkage, and all the others were sick for days.”
“Twenty dead!” Kayl swallowed. “Did I know any of them?”
“Anaya and Saret and Passalessa, I think. The thing killed mainly the oldest of the Elder Mothers.”
Something in Barthelmy’s tone made Kayl frown and ask, “Barthelmy… when you say ‘the thing,’ you don’t mean…” Kayl let her voice trail off without finishing the question.
Barthelmy looked away and swallowed hard. “They brought me to look at some of the bodies, to make sure. They were just like the ones we pulled out of the Twisted Tower.”
“That’s impossible!”
&
nbsp; “I saw them!” Barthelmy snapped. “Don’t tell me it’s impossible!”
“I’m sorry,” Kayl said.
“All right, then. When the rest of the Elder Mothers recovered, they held a meeting and decided to send another expedition to the Tower.”
“And Varna cooperated?”
“They didn’t have to; the Alliance had settled the dispute by then. The Elder Mothers didn’t have to worry about starting a war if there were no Varnans with them. They were very careful about everything else, though. They spent a long time choosing people and training them and so on. And they didn’t go inside at all.”
“Then what were they supposed to do?”
“Check to make sure the place was still sealed. And it was. They couldn’t get even à whisper of a spell past the door, and they couldn’t detect the smallest trace of magic leaking out. So they came back. That was about five years ago.”
Kayl frowned. “I suppose that’s when they came looking for me. But why did it take five years for them to find me? I wasn’t trying that hard to cover my trail.”
“No, they didn’t start looking for you until last year. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
“All right. What’s been happening since this expedition?”
“Nothing,” Barthelmy said. “That is, the interference with magic has gotten worse, but no faster or slower than before.”
“How bad is it now?”
“No one dares to do any but the simplest spells anymore, wardings and short-range seeking spells and so on.”
“I can see why Corrana wouldn’t want to say anything about that,” Kayl said. “I’m surprised Glyndon didn’t mention it, though. We traveled together from Copeham,” she added in response to Barthelmy’s look of surprise. “And if something were interfering with magic, a Varnan wizard certainly ought to know of it.”
“There’s no problem with most kinds of magic,” Barthelmy said. “Only with the magic of the Sisterhood.”
“What?”
“The shadow falls only on us,” Barthelmy repeated.
“And the Elder Mothers have decided it has something to do with the Twisted Tower.”