sorted out the implications. “You battle these things?”
“Pretty much every week.” Alexa stroked the scar on her face.
Marian couldn’t imagine it. “You?”
Alexa met her gaze with fathomless eyes. “The Marshalls Summoned me to be one of them, the best magical warriors in the business.” She shrugged. “Like Joan of Arc.”
“Must have been a shock.”
“Yeah. In Denver I’d taken one personal defense course from the free university, several years ago. Big change in lifestyle.” Now she smiled. She waved a hand down her body and suddenly Marian saw a rope of purple and silver. The link throbbed with life and vibrated with a pretty melody. “But I’m well compensated. This is my bond with my Shield, Bastien. As for financial reward, I have wealth and an estate—you’ll get your pick of land, too, if you stay. And Bastien—” she grinned “—he’s rather like a certain rogue mercenary with a spaceship in the movies.” She sighed. “I miss the movies.”
“You—they—the Marshalls, don’t expect me to become one of them, do they?”
“Nope. The Marshalls Summoned you for the Tower Community, the Sorcerers and Sorceresses—the major ones are called Circlets.” Alexa grinned again. “No wonder they reached Boulder. Mostly scholars, I think. Though Jaquar is one prime man.”
Marian hadn’t forgotten the hunk who’d appeared in the pentacle with her.
“He’s had it rough, lately, though. The sangvile ate his parents.”
“Ate his parents!”
Alexa waved her hand. “Okay, to be exact, the sangvile drained his parents of their Power, turning them into husks that crumbled into gray dust.”
That didn’t sound any better.
“He’s really grieving. I’m sorry for that,” Alexa said quietly. “I know what he’s feeling.”
Not wanting to think about the man or his hurt, Marian said, “So the Tower Summoned me.”
“The Tower had the Marshalls of the Castle Community Summon you,” Alexa corrected. “The Circlets do not play well together.”
“What do they expect me to do?” Marian asked plaintively.
“I don’t know. But there’s plenty of work. The Marshalls are just dealing with the monsters as they invade. That doesn’t address the underlying problem of where they’re coming from or why, or how to stop them.”
Another image coalesced between them, this one of a topographical map. “The country of Lladrana. Note the northern border,” said Alexa.
Marian studied it. Bright yellow glowed at points, and between the lights wove a blue line.
“Magical fence posts and shield along the boundary,” Alexa said, explaining further Marian’s vision from Bossgond. She always preferred the maximum amount of facts, and appreciated Alexa’s visit. “The old fence posts were wearing out, the shield failing, and the Marshalls didn’t know how to make new fence posts or power the boundary. That was my task.”
“Sounds incredible.”
“Yup, but I did it.” Alexa beamed with pride. “Now we know how to create fence posts and the boundary, but it isn’t easy or quick. You can see we still have big gaps in the border. Thus the continued fighting—building up the army, which consists of Marshall Pairs and Chevalier Pairs—Chevaliers are like knights, or singletons. We’re equal-opportunity employers. There are fifteen Marshall Pairs now.”
“So few!”
Alexa glanced at her. “There were six when I came a couple of months ago. We’re ramping up as fast as we can. But we lost three Pairs before and during the first big battle.”
There wasn’t anything Marian could say. She stared at the tiny glow of the fence posts and boundary line. So fragile to keep a land safe. Magic and muscle, physical courage and a willingness to fight were the only weapons being used to defend Lladrana now.
“It sounds to me,” Marian said carefully, “as if the Lladranans are missing a lot of knowledge.”
Nodding approvingly, Alexa said, “That’s right. They’d depended on the boundary for centuries, killing the monsters as they straggled over or through weak points. The Lladranans didn’t find their enemy, learn its flaws, formulate a plan to defeat it, or destroy the threat once and for all.”
Marian closed her eyes. “That’s exactly what must be done.”
“Yup,” Alexa said with an exaggerated Western twang. She stood and brushed off the seat of her pants, but since the leather looked as if it would deflect an oil well, no dust or grass had stuck to her. Old habits, Marian mused. No matter that she’d become integrated into Lladranan society, much of Alexa would always be pure Earthling.
She held out a hand to Marian. Marian put hers in it, her fingers far larger than Alexa’s. With a smooth pull, the smaller woman drew Marian easily to her feet.
“Um, Marian.” Alexa colored.
“Yes?”
“I think it would be good for both of us if we—uh—had a closer connection so we could call each other mentally if need be, for instance.”
“A blood-bond? Like I have with Bossgond?”
“Yes.”
“About that bond with Bossgond. Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?”
Alexa shrugged. When she met Marian’s eyes, hers were serious. “I’ve relied heavily on my instincts here. I think it might serve you well to do the same. After all, the Song sought you out, so you have what is needed to mesh with the Tower, to stay here on Amee.”
She lifted her hand before Marian could speak. “I know, I know, you need to get back to your brother, but I have the feeling that the Song—that’s fate, God, Goddess, whatever—doesn’t make mistakes, and it chose you.” She hesitated. “Be careful of the Singer—the oracle—though. She’s a sneaky old witch.”
Apparently having said all she was going to on the matter, Alexa withdrew a wicked-looking dagger from her boot. She turned over her left wrist and nicked the vein, then glanced at Marian. “You ready?”
No. But she held out her arm anyway.
Alexa was quick and careful. The knife had little bite. Marian watched blood well from her wrist. Alexa took Marian’s arm and held it against hers.
A wash of visions flowed from Alexa to Marian—recent ones of battles on Lladrana that caused Marian to sway in horror, but mercifully they flashed by.
There was Alexa hearing the same gong and chimes and chant as had Marian. A lovely blond woman dancing in the sunlight down Denver’s 16th Street Mall. Graduation from law school. Classrooms. Alexa growing younger in a series of foster homes. Each picture brought a spurt of emotions—terror…grief…triumph…resignation.
Marian’s sight dimmed. Her knees collapsed and she was on the ground again. She flung out her left hand and it hit Alexa’s rib cage.
“Oomph!” Alexa protested.
“Sorry,” Marian said weakly.
“No problemo.” Alexa sounded as dazed as Marian herself. “Didn’t expect this to be so strong. I saw your brother, Andrew. You love him very much.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother would never take care of him.”
“No.”
Alexa sighed. “Can you see yet?”
Marian blinked. Everything was cloud-thick gray. “No.”
“Neither can I. Guess since we’re not doing