"Well I hope they have a damned good reason."
"My sister is ... very sick."
I was suddenly unsure of how much to let Parrus know. If he found out I was the illegitimate daughter of an inn maid he'd never stop teasing me.
"Mind you," he said now, "With that huge army coming their way, the Morians would hardly be much interested in catching mages at the moment. It might be safer than it has been for some time."
"That's true." That was definitely a thought. I stared at the folded letter in my hands.
"Well," said Parrus with mock displeasure. "Here I am come specially to see you and all you can talk about is going off to Moria. Didn't you miss me while I was away?"
His hand came to rest on my waist.
"Did you miss me?" I couldn't resist chiding him. "I notice it's taken you a few days to come and see me."
"You weren't pining for me, were you? Counting the days. I'd hate to think I was cutting up your peace."
Curse Parrus. It was always the same little game. You care more than I care. If I had a gold coin for every time he started telling me about the respective merits of some high-born maiden his mother wanted him to marry, I'd have been a wealthy woman. This was a game I had no desire to be the loser in. I'd had enough unrequited love for a lifetime. Yet his hand resting on my waist felt really very pleasant. He was a good lover, was Parrus, for all his shallowness and it had been several weeks.
"Oh no," I said. "I've been busy."
"So no pining." He bent forward and kissed me softly on the lips. "Not for anything about me?"
His hand slid round my shoulders and, almost casually, began to rub the back of my neck. I loved that touch and he knew it. I felt desire rising in me surprisingly quickly. Thus do we seek to forget.
When his mouth came down on mine I kissed him back hard.
The next moment the bell was ringing. A moment later a man appeared around the corner of the track. My brother Tomas. Parrus jumped away.
"I'll see you later," he said moving quickly away down the track.
I went back towards Tomas.
"Who was that?" said Tomas. "He went off very quickly." There was just the hint of a smirk in his eyes.
I scowled at him. In Moria even more than in Gallia a brother is responsible for his sister's virtue. I hoped he wasn't going to take it upon himself to ask brother's questions, because if he did there would be trouble.
"There's a patient for you," he continued. "I'd say a broken wrist."
He was quite right. Gerdie Tora had fallen out of his loft and hurt himself and typically of the man, who was as pig-headed a soul as you could ever meet, he'd bound it up and finished the morning's work before coming to me. The wrist was now nastily swollen so it took some work to settle.
After he had gone, I went outside again without speaking to either of my brothers and started pulling weeds in the vegetable garden.
To my surprise I realized that I was no longer angry at them. Now I had distanced myself a little from my own feelings of hurt, I could see that they had acted quite reasonably. They needed help and they had come to the most obvious source. Those dreams ... I felt better about the fact that they probably didn't come from Andre/Bedazzer. But if they came from my sister Tasha in someway... The stone woman was certainly some kind of demonic vision. Necromancy? Demons and necromancers went hand in hand in this world. Sometimes so called good mages listened to the tempting voices of demons and slipped into necromancy, but somehow I doubted Tasha had. The dreams were too desperate and frightening for that.
I remembered Norval the necromancer I had fought against in Gallia, Andre/Bedazzer's master; a man of such inhuman malice, he had happily tortured to death 15 small children simply so he might send malicious messages through a protection barrier. Human beings, people who lived and loved and were important to those who loved them, were nothing but fodder to such people. I saw once again the hateful look of pleasure on Norval's face as he had lifted a steel headed hammer to smash his victim's fingers. Suddenly I was trembling with rage and hatred, my fists clenched. Such people deserved annihilation. I wanted to hurt, to burn ... While such people lived could I really sit here weeding vegetables and doing nothing? I was one of the few mages on this heavily protected peninsula who had had any contact with necromancy and demon magic. Surely it was up to me to use that knowledge now. I must at least investigate. Find out what was happening to this unknown sister of mine. If I didn't and something happened to her... Wouldn't I be in some way guilty of her death? Wouldn't I be in someway guilty for all the other deaths that might be taking place while I sat here dallying?
Stop it I told myself. You're being too emotional.
It would not do to become the old emotion-driven Dion, again. That had only lead to disaster. I must think calmly.
Right. So what if I went with my brothers into Moria? The imminent invasion would change things no doubt about that, but there would still be Witch Hunters.
In Moria, when it became against the law to practice magic outside the church, bands of priest-mages called Witch Hunters were formed and set to track down renegades so that they could be burnt at the stake, a fate usually reserved for necromancers. They used the standard spells, spells that work to make the sum of the magical powers of the participants greater than their powers separately. Thus four or five fairly weak mages could work together to capture a much stronger mage who was then chained in an iron collar and manacles known as Witch-manacles. Iron manacles rob mages of their power and make us just like any other mortal.
But how powerful would a group of witch hunters really be? Would they really be able to contain me? I was strong enough to fight and overcome a demon. Surely I could stand against ... No! Only a fool would put that needlessly to the test.
At this point, the door of the hut opened and Hamel came out. I wondered what heated discussions had preceded his appearance.
"May I help you?"
"No. I'm just weeding."
He sat down on a stump, took out a clay pipe and lit it.
"What did you think of your letter?"
"It made interesting reading. Relevant. Very relevant." I changed the subject. "What did you think of Kitten Avignon?"
His face lit up. "Oh. Charming. Charming. A great lady. Truly, I was surprised. I'd expected ... If she's a sinner, some of us would be better for a little damnation."
"And how did she receive you?"
"Graciously, but she is a good guard to you, Dion. It took two days before she would tell us your whereabouts and she kept us under close eye while she decided. She handled Tomas beautifully. I wish I could do it half so well. He was impatient to the point of rudeness. We had had a great disappointment."
"Disappointment?"
"Karac. Tasha's twin. They haven't spoken in years, but we where so sure that now when she was in such danger he would finally forgive her. We came to Gallia to ask his help. He's part of the retinue of Julia Madraga. A great man, now. But not to us. He told us, well, he told us that he'd never help us."
"In those words?"
"No! If you want to know exactly what he said, ask Tomas. It embarrasses me to use certain words before women." He spoke with a mixture of primness and self-mockery but under it all was anger.
"It is not planned the way Tomas and I are together, Dion," he went on. "It's just that he is hasty and I am not. He sparkles, does Tomas. I used to think of him as a silver sword and envy his daring. But since we begun this journey, I see that my own nature, which I used to consider so wooden, has definite advantages."
"So when Karac refused you, you looked around for me?"
"Aye! Marnie had told us you where in Gallia when she lay dying and Tomas had