In the Hand of the Goddess (The Song of the Lioness) Read online

  An orange-robed initiate admitted them to the Cloisters; novices took their horses. An ancient yellow man in the black-and-gold robes of a master tottered out to greet them. “We are honored to have you among us, Squire Alan, Freeman Cooper,” he said. “I am Si-cham, Chief of the Masters here.”

  Alanna bowed very low; as a sorcerer, Si-cham would be nearly as powerful as Duke Roger. As a priest, he was the head of the cult of Mithros for all the Eastern Lands. “We would be honored if you would join us for our evening meal,” this friendly old man went on. “We get little news of the world.”

  “We’d be honored to come,” George said.

  “Excellent, excellent. Follow me, if you please. I do not believe Adept Thom is expecting you?”

  Alanna smiled grimly. “I wanted to surprise him.”

  Si-cham looked sharply at her before knocking on one of the many doors lining a long hallway. “Do you think much surprises Adept Thom?”

  Before Alanna could answer such an astonishing question, Thom opened the door. He was bearded, taller—older. He hugged Alanna with enthusiasm, crying, “Brother Dear!” Seeing Alanna’s companion, Thom widened his violet eyes. “Not—George Cooper?” He grinned.

  “The same,” George replied, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a thing or two about you myself.”

  “Surely some of it was good,” Thom quipped, shaking the offered hand. He looked at Master Si-cham as Alanna dazedly realized, He knew we were coming. He wasn’t surprised at all.

  “Their things have been taken to the guest’s wing.” The Master’s voice, warm and friendly a moment ago, was suddenly chilly. “And they have accepted an invitation to take the evening meal with us.”

  Thom lifted a single coppery eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked, his voice too sweet. “Then I will have to join you—won’t I?”

  “It will be a change.” The old man’s voice was as dry as autumn leaves. “I will leave you to talk now.” He hurried away down the long hall.

  Alanna was confused. “I don’t get it. He was very friendly a moment ago.”

  “They’ve been angry with me ever since I stopped playing the idiot and passed the written examinations for Mastery. Come in; sit down. Wine?” Thom rang a bell, and a servant in the white robe of novice came in. He gave the boy orders, pretending not to notice that Alanna and George were staring at him. When the novice was gone, Alanna sat down hard. Most would-be Masters did not even try for that title until they were at least thirty.

  “You passed the written examinations for Mastery?” Her voice emerged from her throat in a squeak.

  “Two weeks ago. It was easier than you think.” Thom shrugged, motioning George to take the chair beside Alanna while he sat in the third. “All that’s left are the spoken examinations, and the Ordeal of Sorcery.”

  “You call that all?” Alanna demanded weakly.

  Thom laughed at her shock. “I was ready for this more than a year ago. And now they can’t wait for me to finish and get out of here. I make them nervous.”

  The wine came. Alanna drank hers in one gulp and poured another glass while George told Thom about their ride to the City of the Gods. When Alanna was calmer, Thom turned back to her.

  “Now. What brings you two to me the moment the passes are clear? Or rather, sister, what brings you? I believe I guess correctly when I say George came to protect you.”

  George smiled and sipped his wine. “Truth to tell, I came for the ride. Surely you know that Alanna can take care of herself.”

  Thom smiled cruelly. “You came to protect her from a certain smiling gentleman,” he said. “Or did you think I had forgotten him? He hasn’t forgotten me. There are two people watching me here.”

  “It’s just as well you’re getting your Mastery, then, isn’t it?” Alanna shrugged. If Thom could be matter-of-fact about it, so could she. “I need you at the palace.”

  “Do you indeed?”

  “Don’t take that arch tone with me, brother,” she said tartly. “I used to duck you in the fishpond. I’ll try to do it again if you make me angry. This is too important.”

  Thom laughed. “So serious! All right, what’s the problem?”

  They talked until the bells called them to the evening meal, and then they talked again until very late. Alanna wanted Thom in the palace to watch over Jonathan when she left. Thom did not refuse; he wanted to live well at Court for a while. With the most important question settled, Alanna and George told Thom everything they knew or suspected about Duke Roger. Alanna had the only surprise for either man as she explained about the ember-stone. She finished telling her brother about the tests she had performed on the charm and sat back, yawning tiredly. She could remember the watch had called midnight, but that had been at least an hour ago.

  George shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Have you any more surprises for me, then?” he asked gently.

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied. “I would’ve told you before, but the time was never right. It’s not something I think I should talk much about.”

  Thom stood and looked down at her. “One of the gods themselves,” he remarked softly. “What I wouldn’t give to have been there with you.”

  “I wish you had been there with me,” Alanna said frankly. “I was scared to death. Except maybe she wouldn’t have talked to me if you’d been there.”

  Thom stretched out his hand. “Let me see it.”

  Her eyes on her twin’s, Alanna slowly pulled the chain over her head. The ember-stone swung in the air, its inner fire burning. Thom took it, holding it up before his eyes. “Does the glow give you away at night?” he asked absent-mindedly. Alanna could see his mind wasn’t on her, but on the problems and questions posed by the Goddess’s token. This was Thom’s other face, his scholar’s face, the one he wore when he was tracking down some ancient spell in rotting scrolls and half-burned books.

  “No,” she replied, feeling a little forlorn. This was a place her twin went where she couldn’t follow. “It burns inside, but it doesn’t burn, if you know what I mean.”

  George, seeing the loneliness on her face, stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. She smiled up at him gratefully. Was there anything that George didn’t understand about her?

  “Fascinating,” Thom whispered. Suddenly his face tightened. He threw the charm into the air and pointed at it, shouting a word neither Alanna nor George knew. There was a great, soundless explosion. The room rocked, and Alanna grabbed George to keep him from falling. All around the Cloisters, lamps flared up and men shouted questions. Alanna glared at Thom. Shrugging, her brother handed back the ember-stone. The chain was gone; a small bead of molten gold clung to the stone’s crystal exterior. “No damage,” Thom reassured her.

  Alanna got her wind back. “No damage!” she yelled furiously. “What did you do to it?”

  “He used a word of Command,” said a dry voice from the doorway. Si-cham, wearing a crumpled dressing gown over his sleeping robe, stood there. “Is the thing of immortal origin?”

  Wordlessly Alanna handed the ember-stone over, mentally promising to get Thom for putting her in this position. The yellow man examined the stone for a moment before handing it back. “He Commanded it to give up its secrets,” the Master explained. “Only a thing made by the immortals could resist such a Command, as I see this has. You shouldn’t give your brother such dangerous toys to play with, Squire Alan.” Si-cham glanced at Thom. “I suppose you realize you’ve disrupted a number of very delicate spells some of the Masters have been working on. It will take many of them weeks to repair the damage.”

  Thom shrugged. “It was necessary,” he said coolly. “I had to learn how powerful it was.”

  “I see.” Si-cham’s smile was small and grim. “Very well. To teach you the virtues of warning your fellow scholars when you are about to play with the basic forces of Nature, your Ordeal of Sorcery shall be to set to rights the work you destroyed tonight.” The ancient Master nodded to Alanna. “Until tomorrow morning, Squire Alan.” />
  Alanna turned to her brother when the door closed behind Si-cham. “Couldn’t you make friends with them?” she wanted to know. “I like Master Si-cham. And the others—”

  Thom shook his head. “They’re afraid of me because I’m better than they are. They’d hate me even if I went out of my way to be good to them; and I’m certainly not going to do that.”

  Alanna frowned, worried. “You’re going to be very lonely,” she said frankly.

  Thom laughed. “I have the Gift. That’s enough for me.”

  “I wonder. It doesn’t seem as if it would be enough.” She remembered what the Goddess had said about learning to love. Thom would have a lonely life without love or friendship. She at least had friends. Was it possible she had learned to love, as well?

  They spent another day in the Cloisters, talking to others while Thom studied and conferring further with Thom. When Alanna and George left at dawn the next day, Alanna knew her powerful brother would soon come to help her protect Jonathan. That at least she looked forward to; it would take a great burden off her shoulders.

  They rode for half a day in silence, Alanna thinking about Thom. George waited to break the silence until they halted for the noon meal.

  “Your brother is an interestin’ fellow.”

  Alanna laughed shortly. “That he is.”

  “He’ll be powerful protection for Jon. You can go adventurin’ without another thought.” Alanna nodded. George watched her for a moment before adding, “Was he always so proud?”

  Alanna raised miserable eyes to her friend. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think so. He was different when we went home to bury our father. I could see then he was turning hard. I suppose that as powerful as he is, he has every right to be proud. Not everyone can harness so much magic. I never tried; I was afraid to.”

  “A wise kind of fear,” George pointed out. “Besides, what would you be—a fine warrior and a great sorcerer?”

  “It’s not that,” Alanna protested, realizing George thought she might be a little jealous. “It’s that he seems so lonely. And he doesn’t even realize it.”

  George raised his eyebrows. “Do I believe my ears? Alanna the Heartless talkin’ for love instead of against it?”

  “Don’t tease, George. He’s my brother. I love him.”

  “He knows that,” George said, hugging her around the shoulders. “And I know I for one envy him. Now, eat up. We’ve a long ride home.”

  This time they did not stop at Trebond. They rode past Trebond Way, Alanna stopping only for a moment to look toward her home. More and more the palace felt like home to her, and Trebond was only a place on the map.

  It was sunset the day after they passed Trebond, and they still had a few leagues to go before reaching the next wayhouse. It was George who sensed trouble, pulling his bay up short. His nostrils flared, as if he were sniffing the wind.

  “Unless my city-bred nose betrays me—” He broke off with a cry of pain: an ugly black arrow sprouted from his collarbone. Men were pouring out of the trees, surrounding them. “Ride on!” cried George between gritted teeth.

  Moonlight reared, flailing with her hooves at the two ruffians who tried to grab her reins. George yanked a dagger from its sheath and hurled it into a man’s throat. “Ride!” he yelled as four more swarmed down upon them.

  “No!” Alanna cried fiercely. She rode Moonlight straight at a man who was putting an arrow to his bow. The mare trampled him ruthlessly as Alanna drew Lightning, slashing at a third attacker. George drew his own sword to kill the man who was trying to pull him from his saddle. His face was pale, and Alanna remembered with horror that the first messenger to Thom had been slain with poisoned arrows. With a yell of fury she cut down two men who were trying to herd her away from George. Wheeling Moonlight, she saw George fling his second dagger into an attacker’s shoulder.

  George pulled his bay to a halt, his face white in the gathering darkness. “Never mind me,” he gasped, “the arrow’s not poisoned. Find out from that one what you can!” He pointed to the man he had just wounded, the only attacker still standing.

  Alanna cut the killer off as he tried to run, kicking him down before she dismounted. Furious, she leveled her sword at the man’s throat. He stared at her, trying to inch away.

  “Hold still!” Alanna yelled, her voice cracking with rage. This animal and his friends had hurt George! “Who sent you? Who!”

  “You weren’t to be hurt,” the ruffian babbled, his eyes wide with terror. “‘I want the boy alive,’ we was told, and him never sayin’ you was a killer, and the man, too! ‘They’ll be easy game. Jest bring the boy an’ kill the man an’ there’s gold in it for you.’ That’s what we was told—”

  “Who told you?” Alanna roared.

  The man opened his mouth and tried to speak. He made little choking noises as large beads of sweat rolled off his face. Suddenly he turned pale and screamed, clawing at invisible hands on his throat. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed—dead. Quickly Alanna fumbled for the ember-stone under her clothing. She gripped it, and instantly saw traces of orange fire vanishing from the man’s body.

  “Sorcery,” she whispered. She turned to look at George. Her friend was swaying in his saddle. There was no time to waste. Alanna grabbed a length of rope from her saddlebags and tied George to his horse’s back. Mounting Moonlight, she gave the man her brandy flask while she examined the wound. The shaft had passed through the muscle of George’s shoulder; the arrowhead stood clear of his back. Steeling herself, Alanna cut the arrow feathers away and pulled the shaft through the wound. The thief fainted against her as she worked, and she could only be thankful. Leaning George forward on his horse, Alanna took the other animal’s reins and set off into the night.

  It seemed like forever came and went before they reached the wayhouse. Once there, Alanna snapped orders to the hostlers, watching anxiously as they drew George off his horse’s back and carried him inside. She brushed aside the innwife’s offer to send for a healer, explaining briefly that she was a healer herself. A room was quickly prepared for them, and a maid fetched brandy, boiling water, and clean linen for bandages. Alanna worked to clean and bind up the wound, putting her most powerful healing magic on it. Then, exhausted by the fight and the magic, she watched George late into the night. She didn’t like his color. He’s lost so much blood. …

  “Don’t die on me,” she whispered when the clock struck midnight and he still had not moved. “It’s only a little shoulder wound. Goddess, George—don’t die on me.”

  His eyes flickered open and he smiled. “I didn’t know you cared,” he whispered. “And why insult me? I won’t die for a wee nick like this; I’ve had worse in my day.”

  Alanna wiped her wet cheeks. “Of course I care, you unprincipled pickpocket!” she whispered. “Of course I care.”

  Faithful woke Alanna shortly after dawn on her eighteenth birthday. Wake up and get dressed, the cat told her. You don’t want the surprise they’ve planned to be a surprise for them as well as for you. Jonathan says to hurry!

  Alanna was tucking her shirt into her breeches when the prince rapped on her door. “Are you decent, Squire?” he demanded.

  Alanna yanked the door open. “I’m always decent, overlord,” she replied. Then she saw that Gary, Raoul and Alex were with him. “Isn’t it a little early for this?” she asked plaintively.

  They filed into her room, each carrying a bulky package.

  “That’s all right, grouch,” Gary said, thumping her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

  The young men piled their packages onto the bed; then they turned to look at Jonathan. He glared back at them. “I thought Raoul was going to tell Alan.”

  “You talk better than I do,” Raoul said.

  “What they’re trying not to tell you,” Gary said patiently, “is that we discussed it, and we decided our hero-to-be should be properly outfitted.” He gestured to the packages on the bed. “The gifts are from all of us, and Their
Majesties, and my father, uh—Duke Baird, Douglass, Geoffrey, Sacherell—did I forget anyone?”

  “I don’t think so,” Alex said.

  “Myles said he was damned if he would get up at this hour, but if you went to the stables, you’d find something from him,” Raoul added.

  Jonathan handed Alanna the largest, heaviest package. “Go on,” he urged when she simply stared at it. “It’s for you.”

  The package contained the lightest mail shirt Alanna had ever handled, washed with gold. The other packages held a gold-washed helmet, a belt made of gold wire picked out with amethysts, soft kid riding gloves, a gold-trimmed sheath for Lightning and a matching dagger, and gold-washed mail leggings to match the shirt. Alanna opened all of the gifts silently. The smallest package, from her “Cousin George,” contained a black opal ring set in pale gold.

  She looked at them, awed and frightened by this show of affection. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Jonathan advised. “Go take a look at Moonlight.”

  Myles’s gift was a complete outfitting for the mare, made of well-worked leather trimmed with gold. Moonlight voiced her pleasure with a high-pitched whinny, while Faithful sat in a special cup for him attached to the saddle, purring with contentment. Alanna had to cry with happiness, but she hid her face in Moonlight’s mane. No one noticed.

  No one would accept her thanks, either. The other young men ordered her to be quiet, or, if she had to express appreciation, to do so by teaching them the words to the bawdy songs she had learned from the men of Fort Drell.

  “Why are you so confused?” Jonathan asked her late that night. “Can’t you see we all love you and want you to succeed—even if you insist on leaving us?”

  “They’ll hate me more than ever when they find out the truth,” Alanna said miserably.

  “Nonsense. And haven’t you thought that some of them may have guessed by now?”