The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic

‘We’re just going to do a few more hands,’ Epiny assured him to my dismay, for I was very willing to retire from her and her game and seek a good night’s rest. My uncle left and we finished yet another round of the tedious game. Then, as Epiny gathered the markers to set them up afresh she asked us, ‘Has either of you ever been part of a séance?’

‘A science?’ Spink was puzzled, then helpfully offered, ‘Nevare appears to enjoy geology as a hobby.’

‘No. Not a science.’ Epiny continued to set up the playing pieces for the game. She was sending us only furtive glances, gauging our reactions from under her eyelashes. ‘A séance. A summoning of spirits, often through a medium. Like me.’

‘A medium what?’ I asked her. She laughed aloud.

‘I am a medium. Or so I believe, for so the Queen’s medium said to me the last time I attended a séance at my mother’s side. I’ve only begun to explore my talent in the last four months. A medium is someone with the power to invite spirits to speak through her body. Sometimes the spirits are the ghosts of those who have died, but who earnestly wish to convey some final bit of information to the living. Sometimes the spirits appear to be elder beings, perhaps even the remnants of the old gods who were worshipped before the good god came to free us from that darkness. And sometimes …’

‘Oh. Those. I’ve heard some talk about them. People sitting in a circle in the dark, holding hands and playing at bogey-frights on one another. It sounds unholy, and completely unfit for a girl to be interested in,’ I told her sternly. In my heart, I was full of curiosity and longing to hear more, but I did not wish to tempt my own cousin to corruption.

‘Indeed?’ She gave me a disdainful look. ‘Perhaps you ought to tell that to my mother, for tonight she assists the Queen at her weekly séance session. Or perhaps the Queen herself would like to hear your notions of what is “unholy and unfit for girls”.’ She turned to Spink. ‘The Queen says that much of what is judged “unfit for women to pursue” are the very sciences and disciplines that lead to power. What do you think of that?’

Spink glanced at me but I had no help for him. It struck me as an entirely peculiar conversation, not unlike Epiny herself. He took a breath, and the expression on his face was the same one he wore when an instructor called on him in class. ‘I have not had much time to reflect on that, but on the surface, it would certainly seem true. Women are not encouraged to study the exact sciences or engineering. The complete texts of the Holy Writ are forbidden to them; they only study the writings given specifically for women. The arts and sciences of war are judged unfit … if those be the paths to power, then, yes, perhaps women are denied those paths when they are denied those disciplines.’

‘Why should it matter?’ I spread my hands. ‘If there are disciplines that are unfit for girls, then it is only natural that those disciplines would lead to inappropriate ends. Why would any father put his daughter on a path that can only lead her to unhappiness and frustration?’

Epiny swivelled her gaze to me. ‘Why would a powerful woman be unhappy and frustrated?’

‘Because she wouldn’t, well, a powerful woman, would not, have, well, a home and family and children. She wouldn’t have time for all the things that fulfil a woman.’

‘Powerful men have those things.’

‘Because they have wives,’ I pointed out to her.

‘Exactly,’ she said, as if she had just proven something.

I shook my head at her. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘You’re leaving me alone here with Spink?’ she asked. She feigned being scandalized, but the look she shot Spink was almost hopeful. He shook his head at her regretfully.

‘No, I’m not. Spink is going to bed, too. You heard your father. We have to waken early for Sixday services at dawn.’

‘If the good god is always with us, why must we worship him at such an awful hour?’ Epiny demanded.

‘Because it is our duty. It’s a small sacrifice he asks of us, to demonstrate our respect for him.’

‘That,’ she told me archly, ‘was a rhetorical question. I already know its conventional answer. I just think it’s a good idea for all of us to think about it now and then. For just as the good god makes rather strange requests of how men must show their respect, so do men make peculiar demands of women. And children. Are you truly going up to bed already?’

‘I am.’

‘You won’t stay and hold a séance with me?’

‘I … of course not! It’s unholy. It’s improper!’ I throttled a terrible curiosity to know how a séance worked and if anything real ever happened in one.

‘Unholy? Why?’

‘Well, it is all trickery and lies.’

‘Hmm. Well, if it is all trickery, then it can scarcely be sinful. Unless, of course …’ she paused and looked at me quite seriously, almost as if alarmed. ‘Do you think those mimes that pester people in the Old Square are sinful? They are always pretending to climb ladders or lean on walls that aren’t there. Are they unholy, too?’

Spink choked back a laugh. I ignored him. ‘Séances are unholy because of what you are trying to do, or pretending to do, not just because they are all fakery. And they are a most improper activity for young ladies.’

‘Why is it improper? Because we hold hands in the dark? The Queen does it.’

‘Nevare, surely if the Queen does it, it cannot be improper.’ This, from Spink of all people.

I took a breath, resolved to be calm and logical. I felt a bit affronted that they were united against me. I spoke coolly. ‘Séances are unholy because you are trying to take a god’s power to yourself. Or at least, pretend to have such. I’ve heard something of séances: foolish people sitting in the dark, holding hands, listening for thumps and knocks and whispers. Why do you think they hold them in the dark, Epiny? Why do you think nothing about them is ever clear or straightforward? All is mumble and mystery. We are of the good god, Epiny, and we should set the superstition and trickery and magic of the old gods behind us. Soon, if we ignore them all, they will fade to nothing, and their magic will be no more. The world will be a better, safer place when the old gods have passed away completely.’

‘I see. And is that why you and Spink both do that little finger-wavy, charm thing over your cinches each time you go to mount your horses?’

I stared at her, astonished. The keep-fast charm was something I had learned from Sergeant Duril when I first learned to saddle my own horse. Before then, he or my father had made the charm. It was a cavalla tradition, a tiny bit of the old magic that we had kept for ourselves. I had once asked the sergeant where it had come from, and he had said, in an off-hand way, that most likely we had learned it from the conquered plainsmen. Then he had mentioned that there had used to be other little charms, a string charm to find water, and another to give strength to a flagging horse, but that they did not seem to work as well as they once had. He suspected that all our iron and steel was the cause of the magic fading. And then he added that it was probably not wise for a cavallaman to be using too much of the magic that we had learned from our enemies. A man who did that might end up ‘going native’. At the time, I had been too young to fully understand what was meant by the phrase, other than that it was very bad. So Epiny talking about that magic to me suddenly made me feel both exposed and ashamed. ‘That’s private!’ I exclaimed indignantly, and glanced at Spink, expecting him to mirror my outrage.

Instead he said thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps she has a point.’

‘She does not!’ I retorted. ‘Answer honestly, Epiny. Don’t you think séances are an affront to the good god?’

‘Why? Why should he care?’

I had no ready reply to Epiny’s question. ‘It just seems wrong to me. That’s all.’

Spink turned to me, his hands palm up. ‘Go back, Nevare. Let’s talk about the keep-fast charm. You know it’s a small magic we use. And everyone says it works, when they say anything about it at all. So either we are as ungodly as Epiny is for tampering with such things, or there is no sin in investigating it.’

Spink was taking her side again. ‘Spink, you should know séances are a lot of nonsense. Otherwise, why would there be all those rules about holding them in the dark, and keeping silent, and not being able to ask questions during them, and all that silliness? It’s to cover up the trickery, that’s all!’

‘You seem to know a great deal about them, for one who has never taken part in one,’ Epiny observed sweetly.

‘My sisters went away for a spring week at a friend’s house. When they returned, they spoke of holding a séance there, because a visiting cousin from Old Thares had told them about one. They’d heard a wild tale of floating plates and unseen bells and knocking on tabletops, so they all joined hands and sat in a circle in the dark and waited. Nothing happened, though they scared themselves silly waiting. Nothing happened because there was no charlatan there to make things happen and pretend the spirits were doing it!’

I think my irritation had daunted even Epiny, for she sounded subdued when she said, ‘There is a lot more to it than floating plates and mysterious knocks, Nevare. I don’t doubt that there could be fakes and charlatans, but the séance I attended was real. Very real and a bit frightening. Things happened to me there … I felt things that no one could explain. And Guide Porilet said that I had the same skill that she did, but was untrained. Why do you think I was left here with Father this time? It was because I interfered with the trained medium and she could not summon the spirits to herself while I was there. They all wanted to come to me. I suppose I cannot blame you for doubting me. I could scarcely believe it myself at first. I found all sorts of ways to deny it and explain it away. But it wouldn’t stay gone.’

This last she said in a very soft, uncertain voice. I capitulated to her feelings. ‘I’m sorry, Epiny. I’d believe you if I could. But all my logic and reason tell me that these “summonings” are simply not real. I’m sorry.’

‘Are you, Nevare? Truly?’ She straightened slightly, a flower refreshed by a gentle rain.

I smiled at her. ‘Truly, Epiny. I’d believe you if I could.’

She grinned in response and jumped to her feet. ‘Then I’ll make an offer to you. Let’s just turn down the lampwicks, extinguish all but two candles, and sit around it, holding hands, in a circle. Perhaps you are right and nothing at all will happen. But, if things do start to happen, you can tell me stop and I’ll stop it. Now what could be the harm in that?’

She had acted as she spoke. By the time she finished, she had darkened the room except for two fat yellow candles burning on what had been our game table. Their wicks were short and the flame guttered shallowly in the fragrant wax. Epiny sat down in the dimness, folding her legs under her skirt. She extended one hand to Spink. For the first time, I noticed how slender and graceful her fingers were. He took her hand without hesitation. With her free hand, she patted a cushion next to her and extended her hand in invitation to me. I sighed, recognizing both that it was inevitable, and that, deep down, my own curiosity was urging me on.

I settled on the cushion beside her. There was a mildly uncomfortable moment as Spink took my hand. Epiny’s waiting hand hovered in the air between us. I reached for it.

Suddenly, I again felt that distortion of my senses. The room was closed and suffocating, the scent from the yellow candles so foreign that I could scarcely breathe. And the girl reaching for my hand had eyes deeper than any forest pond and fingers that could sink roots into me before I could draw a breath. Something deep inside me forbade this contact; it was dangerous to touch hands with a spirit-seeker, and unclean besides.

‘Take my hand, Nevare!’ Epiny spoke impatiently, as if from a great distance. In my dream, I reached for her fingers, but it was like pushing my hand through congealed jelly. The very air resisted the motion, and when Epiny reached her eager hand toward mine, I saw her encounter the same barrier.

‘It’s like ectoplasm, but invisible!’ she exclaimed. Her voice was triumphant with curiosity, not fear. She continued to push her pale white fingers toward me like seeking roots that could burrow into my heart.

‘I … I feel something,’ Spink said. I heard his embarrassment at admitting it. I knew, as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud, that he had thought this ‘séance’ all a sham, but an excellent excuse to hold Epiny’s hand in his. He had not bargained on whatever it was that was happening. It frightened him but a part of me noticed that he had not released Epiny’s hand.

‘Stop!’ I suddenly commanded them. My voice came out cracked like an old woman’s. ‘Stop, you little witch thing! By root, I bind you!’

My hand tried to do something it did not know how to do. I was shocked, shocked at my words, shocked at how my fingers danced frantically in the air between Epiny and me. I watched my hand, powerless to stop it. Epiny stared at me and Spink’s eyes were big as saucers. Then Epiny suddenly leaned forward and blew out both candles.

We were plunged into darkness. At least, my mortal eyes were. My ‘other’ eyes, the ones that saw Epiny as foreign and strange, suddenly looked out at the dense forest in front of me. For an instant, I smelled rich humus, even felt the tendrils that bound me to the tree at my back. Then someone yelped, a cry blended from surprise, fury, and yes, a touch of fear.

The ‘other’ left me. Suddenly I was sitting on a cushion in the dark. A tiny spark still gripped the end of one candle’s wick. It illuminated nothing, but gave me a place to fix my eyes. I heard the scratch of a sulphur match and smelled its familiar stink. I saw Epiny’s hand in the small circle of light the match made. She re-lit the two candles and looked from me to Spink and back again. She looked shaken, but her words were arch. ‘Well. As you see. It’s all people sitting in a circle in the dark, holding hands and playing at bogey-frights on one another. Still, it can be amusing, all the same.’ A small smile came to her pale face. ‘I think you can stop holding Spink’s hand now. If you wish.’

I became aware of the bruising grips we had on each other. We dropped hands. I sheepishly massaged my crushed fingers.

‘Are you all right?’ Spink asked Epiny gently.

She was pale. By the candlelight, her eyes looked hollow. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘Tired as I’ve never been before. Guide Porilet, the Queen’s medium, is often exhausted after a session. I thought it was just because she was old. Now I understand better what she feels.’ Dismissing herself, she turned to me. ‘Do you recall what I said to you that morning, when you were departing for the Academy? I told you that you seemed to have two auras. You do. But only one belongs to you. There is something in you, Nevare. Something strong. Something very old.’

‘And evil,’ I added, feeling sure it was true. I ran my hand over the top of my head. My bald spot stung like a fresh injury. I pulled my hand away from it.

Epiny pursed her lips for a moment. I watched her, thinking how silly and impossible this conversation would have seemed only a short time before. ‘No. I would not call it evil. It is something that wants to live, desperately, and will stop at nothing to keep on living. It feared me. It fears even you, but continues to inhabit you. Even now, when it has retreated, I know you are still bound to it. I feel it.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Spink begged this, but I would have said the words if I had thought of them first.

‘We will not talk of it right now. But before you leave, we must try this again, I think. I must learn what it is that has touched you and taken you. I’ve never heard of anything like this before,’ Epiny said earnestly, gripping my hand once more.

‘I think we shall leave it alone,’ I said firmly. I did not sound convincing, even to myself.

‘Do you? Well, we shall see. For now, goodnight, sweet cousin Nevare. Good night, Spink.’

With that, she dropped my hand, rose from her cushion and swept out of the room, her exit surprisingly womanly after her behaviour had been so irritatingly childish all day.

I think my mouth was agape as I stared after her. I shifted my stare to Spink. He looked like a pup bird-dog the first time he sees a pheasant lift from the tall grass before him. Entranced.

‘Let’s go,’ I told him, a bit irritably, and after a moment he swung his gaze to me. We rose, and he followed me dumbly from the room. I tried to walk steadily. I was sorting what had happened through my mind. I needed to find an explanation that fit with my life. I was inclined to blame Epiny for the whole bizarre experience. As we went up the stairs, Spink said quietly, ‘I’ve never met a girl like your cousin before.’

‘Well, at least there’s that to be grateful for,’ I muttered, mortified.

‘No. I mean, well …’ He sighed suddenly. ‘I suppose I haven’t known many girls, though. And I’ve never before spent an evening almost alone with one. The things she thinks about! I never thought that a girl, well—’ He halted, floundering for words.

‘Don’t worry about saying it aloud.’ I excused him from his awkwardness. ‘I’ve never before met anyone like Epiny, either.’

We parted to go to our separate rooms. It had been a taxing day for me in many ways, and despite my weariness, I worried that I would not fall asleep. I dreaded dark dreams of trees and roots, or staring endlessly into the black corners of the room. But I was more drained than I thought. The soft bed and feather pillow welcomed me and I sank into sleep almost as soon as I settled into them.

SIXTEEN

A Ride in the Park

A servant tapped at my door before dawn. Both Spink and I attended the daybreak service with my uncle in the chapel on his estate. Epiny and Purissa were also there, in the women’s alcove. I glanced over at them once, only to surprise Epiny in the midst of an immense yawn that she had not bothered to cover. My uncle chose the readings for the men; they focused on duty, valour, and being steadfast. I suspected he chose them with Spink and me in mind. I prayed with an earnestness that I had not had since I was a boy, asking the good god to be with me at all times.

As my aunt had still not returned, Epiny did the women’s readings. They seemed very short and I could not detect any common thread in what she chose. One had to do with not wasting her husband’s resources frivolously. The next was something about refraining from gossip about her betters. And the last was the horrendous section from Punishments on the afterlife fate of wayward and harlotrous daughters. This moved Spink to a choking fit that left him gasping for air.

After the common services, Spink and I retired with my uncle and the serving men of the household for meditation. The chamber for this was adjacent to one of his hot houses and very pleasant. It was more comfortable than the austere room we used at home on Sixday, and despite my good night’s sleep, several times I nearly drowsed off.

At home and at the Academy, the Necessary Tasks that the Writ permitted always followed services and meditation on the Sabbath. To my delight, and Spink’s, the Sixday at my uncle’s house proved to be a day of relaxation. At my uncle’s house, even the servants had an easy time of it. We had a simple cold luncheon, during which my uncle attempted to keep the conversation quiet and pious. Only Purissa repeatedly asking him if the mimes that performed in the city were evil and offensive to the good god marred it. I saw Spink and Epiny exchange a smile and knew that she had primed the child for that question.

After our meal my uncle advised Spink and me to enjoy the library and do our studying, if we were so inclined. I was, and I brought out my books. Spink seized the opportunity to have Epiny guide him through my father’s journals to the sections that mentioned his father. She seemed to have an excellent memory and found the entries quickly. Out of curiosity, I joined them for a time, but soon wearied of reading over Spink’s shoulder as Epiny pointed out passages. I went back to my schoolwork and rapidly completed two of my assignments.

Dinner that evening was again simple, ‘for the sake of our serving folk’ my uncle said, but once more, far better than anything we had eaten at the Academy. Only the meat was served hot, but the cold fruit pies and whipped cream that finished the meal almost tempted me to over-indulge. ‘Think what Gord would make of this!’ I commented to Spink as I took a second slice.

‘Gord?’ Epiny instantly asked.

‘A friend of ours at Academy. One who is inclined to over-indulge in food whenever he gets the opportunity.’ Spink sighed. ‘I hope he is feeling better when we return. The last few days have been difficult for him.’

‘How is that?’ Uncle Sefert wanted to know.

We did the stupidest thing possible. Spink and I exchanged glances, and then neither of us spoke. I tried to find a truthful lie, but when one came to me (He has not been feeling well!) it was somehow too late to utter it. Epiny’s eyes shone with sudden interest when her father said mildly, ‘Perhaps we shall discuss your friend’s difficult days in my study after dinner.’

I think Epiny was as surprised as I when her father shut the door before she could follow us into the study. She had traipsed along behind us, apparently confident that she was to be included. Instead, just as she tried to enter, her father stepped to the door and said, ‘Good night and sleep well, Epiny. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow.’ Then he simply closed the door. Spink looked shocked, but covered it well. My uncle went to his sideboard and poured a brandy for himself. After a pause in which he seemed to be considering it, he poured two very short shots for Spink and me also. He gestured us toward two chairs and took the couch for himself. Once we were settled, he looked directly at us and said, ‘Nevare, Spinrek, I think it’s time you told me whatever it is that you think you should not tell me.’

‘I haven’t done anything wrong, sir,’ I said, trying to reassure him, but even as I said the words, guilt jabbed me. I had watched Spink and Trist fight and not reported them. Worse, I suspected that Lieutenant Tiber was being treated unfairly, and yet I had not spoken out. My uncle seemed to sense that things were amiss, for he kept his silence and waited. It startled me when Spink spoke.

‘It’s hard to tell where to start, sir. But I think I would value your advice.’ Spink spoke hesitantly, and glanced at me as if for permission.

My uncle read his look. ‘Speak freely, Spink. Honesty should never seek permission of anyone.’

I cast my eyes down before my uncle’s rebuke. I was reluctant for Spink to talk to my uncle, but there was nothing I could do about it now. With no embroidery or excuses, he told of his fight with Trist, and then went on to tell how we had gone to the infirmary to bring Gord back, and that we were sure that Old Noble cadets had been responsible for Gord’s beating. Somehow Gord’s tale meandered to include the bullying and humiliation at the beginning of the year, and the flag-brawl and the culling that had followed it. When I did not bring up Tiber right away, Spink prompted me, saying, ‘And Nevare fears a worse injustice against a New Noble cadet.’

I had to speak then. I began by saying that I had only suspicions and no real evidence. I saw my uncle scowl at that, and forced myself to recognize my words as a weakling’s excuse for keeping silent. Instead, he commented, ‘I know Lord Tiber of Old Thares, not well, but I do know he does not drink, nor did his father before him. I doubt that his soldier brother drinks, and hence I doubt that his son would. I may be wrong in this. But either Lieutenant Tiber has broken not only an Academy rule but also his family’s tradition, or he has been entrapped by falsehoods. It demands investigation. I am disappointed that you were not called on to tell what you knew before they took such an extreme disciplinary action against him. It must be rectified, Nevare. You know that.’