and in our Castle Temple.”
The old man inclined his head. “Agreed. If the Tower Community was disorganized enough to pay you three times, then you should take advantage of it.”
Jaquar stood outside the circle and watched helplessly as the old man handed Venetria’s and Chalmon’s offerings to the Marshalls. He’d wanted to ensure the new Exotique was trained in plane-walking, focus her studies on what he needed her to do, and what she would have to learn to make the journey and, if possible, return.
Thealia glanced dubiously at the six weapons. “All the spellweapons of the Tower Community were promised.”
“I have no weapons.” Bossgond stared at Jaquar. “I trust you will ensure the Marshalls receive the remaining payment from the rest of the Towers.” He examined the two swords, three knives and a pair of gauntlets the Marshalls claimed from Venetria and Chalmon. “I believe the last inventory of all the Towers stated we had twenty weapons.”
So the old Circlet had been studying the reports after all, just not commenting.
Swordmarshall Thealia laid a hand on her baton of Power.
Jaquar nodded shortly at her. “As Bossgond says, I’ll ensure the delivery of all the weapons, except…” He glanced from Bossgond to Thealia and swept a quick look around the rest of the Marshalls. “I was gifted a knot-weapon when I raised my Tower, too powerful for me to handle.” He grinned with all his teeth. “Should you wish to send someone for that weapon, I’ll be pleased to relinquish it.”
“Not me,” said Bossgond.
Thealia fingered the end of her baton but stepped back. “I’ll discuss it with Marshall Alyeka. We know nothing about knot-weapons.”
Bossgond reconnected the pentacle’s Power lines with a small wand of polished turquoise. He raised his head and sniffed, as if testing the flavor of the Power. “Very good,” he said, raising the Exotique’s hand to his lips.
After he’d finished the elegant gesture, Bossgond placed Marian in the center of the pentacle and began the chant that would whisk them from the Castle Temple to the pentagram in Bossgond’s Tower on Alf Island.
Marian listened to the old magician sing what she thought was a spell. It was amazing. She drew the cloak around her. Her hands and feet were cold. She’d agreed to go with the old man and it looked like she was going by magic.
Still, she could feel the pressure of energy, magic, whatever, gathering. Was there any chance that it might send her back home? Was this a dream about how to find her teacher? She’d like to believe it, but the bruises she had on her body ached with all-too-real pain. In an hour or two the marks would show on her skin.
With every moment that passed, Marian felt her hope fade that this was a dream.
She looked at the oldest mage again. She should have been watching her new teacher all along, paying attention to what he was doing, but there was too much going on. And he’d made it clear he would be her mentor, she’d learn. She hoped.
“I would be honored to teach you to use your Power,” he’d said. The cadence of his words had hummed through her, feeling right. She felt inherently she could trust him, unlike everyone else in this place. There was a smoothness of the energy of his intentions toward her that didn’t come from anyone else in the room.
Every other person who had touched her had snags in their Power flow toward her that she’d recognized as self-interest, specific goals in their minds as to how to use her. Bossgond hadn’t.
She understood now that the circle of people who’d brought her to this place were called Marshalls. She’d picked that word up. She’d always been a quick study and didn’t think the language would pose much of a problem, especially since it was close to French.
The Marshalls still ringed the pentacle, grouped in pairs and watching with interest. Since they’d been chanting when she’d come here, they had to be the ones who’d burdened her life over the past month. Their music was unique. The crystal lamps made of great gemstones and arranged in the colors of the chakra were the chimes she had heard. And she knew the sound of the silver gong.
Yet she didn’t feel at ease with those pairs dressed in matching colors, clinking with chain mail under their rich robes and carrying weapons. She didn’t care for this enormous, echoing Temple. Something about the atmosphere raised all the fine hair on her body.
Then there were the other magicians. The handsome Jaquar scowled at her from outside the pentagram, almost vibrating with intensity. Oddly enough, she could hear a stream of melodious notes coming from him and it lured her. No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t right. She trusted her instinctive impression of him as someone who could harm her deeply.
These people seemed to use music in their magic, but it was still difficult to believe that the trickle of tunes she heard from them was anything but her imagination.
She usually soaked in and analyzed everything around her, but all the new experiences demanded that she shut down the overflow of sensory information for self-preservation. She stepped closer to Bossgond.
Marian clutched the cape. The lining was soft and warm. She swayed to the chant. Bossgond had a fabulous voice. She’d enjoy listening to it, learning from him.
Slam! The huge door to the Temple hit the stone wall and a small woman shot into the room, followed by a big man who was reaching for her.
“Alexa!” the man called.
Unlike everyone else, the woman was pale-skinned, with a white scar on one cheek, short in stature, and though she had silver hair, she appeared young.
The Marshalls started to surround her.
“Wait!” the woman called. In English.
Bossgond gripped Marian’s upper arm hard and sped up his chant, the rhythm now almost syncopated, making her dizzy with the energy surrounding them.
The Marshalls’ protests drowned out most of the woman Alexa’s words. Marian heard, “Wait! I came as soon as I could. You need to know, you’re in Lladrana—”
Magic coalesced around Marian and Bossgond, a huge pressure of Power. She tried to take a step forward, but was held in place by an invisible force.
“Can I go home?” Marian cried, straining to hear.
“Not yet,” Alexa called.
“How soon?” Marian yelled.
Alexa shrugged. “Maybe a month!”
Marian bit her lip. What if Andrew returned earlier or had an exacerbation during his retreat? She could lose him! She would definitely lose her college fund…and her job.
What should she do? What could she do?
Her ritual had been in part to find help for Andrew. These people might be able to cure him. She’d just have to find the information and get back to him fast.
The man who’d followed Alexa plucked her from an irritated circle of Marshalls. Holding her protectively, he ran with her to the edge of the pentacle.
Alexa met Marian’s gaze. “Make sure you ask about Pair-Bonding. And the Snap!”
Bossgond intoned, “Vont!”
The room disappeared. Vertigo hit Marian, and in the next instant she fell onto a thick rug into which was woven a red pentagram.
“Gagghhh,” she croaked. Brilliant. Wonderful impression to make on her teacher—and now the man whose power she was under.
Surely she could beat him physically if she had to, couldn’t she? Heaven knew she had heft.
But he sat next to her, watching with concerned eyes, then stooped and brushed back her hair. Then he took her hand and helped her up with unexpected strength, banished the flowing energy lines around his pentagram with a whistle. Then he led her to a soft chair that looked a lot like