doubt curled like greasy smoke through his thoughts. Kieran spoke of a singleness of purpose, of leaving the outer world and all its concerns behind. But Rumail Dom served two masters, King as well as Tower. . . .
“Something troubles you?”
Coryn frowned, searching for words. “ Dom Rumail, who tested me—” He found it suddenly difficult to breathe.
You will say nothing of this. Nothing.
“—he—he came to Verdanta—not as laranzu —but as his brother’s—King Damian’s—agent—” Coryn broke off, gasping for air.
Kieran nodded gravely. “Yes, some of us are not entirely free of family allegiances, would that it were so. And there is always the fear that we may be pulled to different sides in an outside conflict, though the Hasturs at least have promised never to set kin against kin in Tower warfare.” The old emmasca paused. “As for that one . . .” The colorless eyes flickered, missing nothing. “He is not your concern. Go now and join the others.”
Oddly reassured, Coryn made his way to the big, sunlit room on the south side of the Tower where Gareth instructed the novices in elementary monitoring. They sat in pairs on the ubiquitous low benches around a cot, where one of the older boys lay. Gareth stopped to repeat his explanation of the proper distance of the hand from the body to “feel” the energon channels.
Liane came in a few minutes later, eyes red and puffy as if she had been crying. Coryn decided that however awkward his interview with Kieran had been, hers with Bronwyn must have been worse. He went up to her after the session, wanting to say something but not knowing what. He didn’t want to prolong the quarrel, but half of it had been his doing. At least half.
Just as Coryn caught up to Liane, Aran joined both of them, eyes dancing with adventure. “We’re to have an hour outdoors after lunch. Anyone interested in getting out of here? Can we take your horse, Liane?”
“Oh!” Her color heightened, but not in embarrassment. “Yes! Can we all three go?”
“You mean go out riding?” Coryn asked. He’d no idea that Tower life could be so normal. In the hours of his recuperation, he’d thought of his lost Dancer.
“Of course!” Aran said. “Once Tramontana kept no mounts, before the days of King Allart Hastur. Now there are always a couple of horses in the Tower stables. We’re permitted to use these for our own exercise.” He winked at Coryn. “They’re always telling us we need to keep strong to do all this matrix work.”
An image sprang to Coryn’s mind, the three of them laughing as they galloped across the hills, the wind singing in his ears, the sweet warm joy of the horse beneath him flooding up so that he was one with the beast, with the hawk overhead like a speck against the sun, and the singing grass. Green and gold and blue shimmered around him, inside him—
In that instant, too, he knew this was what Aran felt, the excitement rising in his new friend’s mind.
As they moved down the corridor, Liane caught one foot on an uneven stone and stumbled. Coryn reached to steady her. Her hand brushed his, a fleeting touch. He turned to her with eyes newly opened by the momentary rapport with Aran. It was as if he saw her for the very first time, not just an infuriating child, but a young woman—the woman she would grow to be—proud and loyal. He sensed the struggle within her, mirror to his own, the stories she’d grown up with about Leynier greed and treachery, the rages of her father, her love for family, the big brother who’d died in a Leynier cattle raid, all of this pitted against the boy who stood before her. He saw himself reflected in her mind, neither demon nor coward nor spy, not any more than she was.
Kieran was right. The Tower is the one place we can leave behind all this hatred and start anew.
He held out his hand and, with a timid smile now brightening into an outright grin, she took it.
8
F our years later, the three friends
“Something troubles you?”
Coryn frowned, searching for words. “ Dom Rumail, who tested me—” He found it suddenly difficult to breathe.
You will say nothing of this. Nothing.
“—he—he came to Verdanta—not as laranzu —but as his brother’s—King Damian’s—agent—” Coryn broke off, gasping for air.
Kieran nodded gravely. “Yes, some of us are not entirely free of family allegiances, would that it were so. And there is always the fear that we may be pulled to different sides in an outside conflict, though the Hasturs at least have promised never to set kin against kin in Tower warfare.” The old emmasca paused. “As for that one . . .” The colorless eyes flickered, missing nothing. “He is not your concern. Go now and join the others.”
Oddly reassured, Coryn made his way to the big, sunlit room on the south side of the Tower where Gareth instructed the novices in elementary monitoring. They sat in pairs on the ubiquitous low benches around a cot, where one of the older boys lay. Gareth stopped to repeat his explanation of the proper distance of the hand from the body to “feel” the energon channels.
Liane came in a few minutes later, eyes red and puffy as if she had been crying. Coryn decided that however awkward his interview with Kieran had been, hers with Bronwyn must have been worse. He went up to her after the session, wanting to say something but not knowing what. He didn’t want to prolong the quarrel, but half of it had been his doing. At least half.
Just as Coryn caught up to Liane, Aran joined both of them, eyes dancing with adventure. “We’re to have an hour outdoors after lunch. Anyone interested in getting out of here? Can we take your horse, Liane?”
“Oh!” Her color heightened, but not in embarrassment. “Yes! Can we all three go?”
“You mean go out riding?” Coryn asked. He’d no idea that Tower life could be so normal. In the hours of his recuperation, he’d thought of his lost Dancer.
“Of course!” Aran said. “Once Tramontana kept no mounts, before the days of King Allart Hastur. Now there are always a couple of horses in the Tower stables. We’re permitted to use these for our own exercise.” He winked at Coryn. “They’re always telling us we need to keep strong to do all this matrix work.”
An image sprang to Coryn’s mind, the three of them laughing as they galloped across the hills, the wind singing in his ears, the sweet warm joy of the horse beneath him flooding up so that he was one with the beast, with the hawk overhead like a speck against the sun, and the singing grass. Green and gold and blue shimmered around him, inside him—
In that instant, too, he knew this was what Aran felt, the excitement rising in his new friend’s mind.
As they moved down the corridor, Liane caught one foot on an uneven stone and stumbled. Coryn reached to steady her. Her hand brushed his, a fleeting touch. He turned to her with eyes newly opened by the momentary rapport with Aran. It was as if he saw her for the very first time, not just an infuriating child, but a young woman—the woman she would grow to be—proud and loyal. He sensed the struggle within her, mirror to his own, the stories she’d grown up with about Leynier greed and treachery, the rages of her father, her love for family, the big brother who’d died in a Leynier cattle raid, all of this pitted against the boy who stood before her. He saw himself reflected in her mind, neither demon nor coward nor spy, not any more than she was.
Kieran was right. The Tower is the one place we can leave behind all this hatred and start anew.
He held out his hand and, with a timid smile now brightening into an outright grin, she took it.
8
F our years later, the three friends
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