ferris1

Chapter 1: Sorrow and Stone

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

His heart thumping, Reiffen watched Giserre’s mouth open in wonder as the Tear
dissolved around them. The silence of bookshelves replaced the rumble of the
gorge.

“Where is this place?” she asked.

“Ussene.”

Fear crept into the lines around her eyes. When Reiffen had taken her hand
moments ago on the cold, wet stone of the Tear, Ussene was the last place Giserre
had expected to find herself. She took a deep breath, her face hardening, and the
wrinkle of dread was gone.

“The Three have brought you back?” she asked.

“I have brought us back.”

“You!”

“Yes, Mother.”

“The magic was yours?”

“No. Usseis laid the spell on me.” Reiffen left off rubbing his itchy knuckle to show
where the last joint of his left little finger had been reattached. The iron thimble that
had capped it before was gone, though another remained on his right hand. “See?
The body heals itself across any distance. The magic brought me back.”

“And you knew this all along?” Giserre’s anger rose. “You told us you had no idea
what those things on your fingers were for.”

“Their purpose only just came to me, Mother.”

“And you used them to come here, to Ussene? After you had just been rescued?
Have you lost your mind?”

“It was my only choice, mother.”

“Only choice? It was most certainly not! You could have remained in Valing. How
could you possibly choose to return to the place from which Redburr and your friends
just saved you.” Giserre drew herself up to her full height. Her robe rustled; the
white of her nightgown flickered at her throat. “I refuse to believe you. This is some
trick of the Three. My son would not be such a fool.”

Reiffen’s heart lifted. Perhaps he was under the Wizards’ control. If that were true,
then none of the responsibility was his. But this didn’t feel like the other times he had
been held captive by Usseis’s will. His mind felt free; his heart remained open.

“It would have been worse had I stayed,” he said.

“It would not.”

“They changed me, Mother. Nothing is the same.”

“I would have helped you fight them. We could have removed those...things.” Her
mouth pursed with distaste as Giserre gestured toward the remaining thimble.
“Redburr would have cut them off quickly enough.”

“Yes. And everyone would have been watching all the time for some sign I was doing
the Three’s bidding.”

“That is not true! You were among friends. You should have trusted us. If your
father were alive—”

“If my father were alive he would understand!” Reiffen’s eyes blazed with conviction.
“He died fighting them, and I will do the same if I have to. But the Wizards are not in
Valing, Mother, they are here. Valing is done. I will not hide from them, or anyone
else, any longer.”

Mother and son stared angrily at one another. Never before had Reiffen spoken so
roughly to her. He had not been the best behaved of children, but he had not
quarreled openly with her either. He wanted to rush into her arms and beg
forgiveness for speaking so harshly, but he knew he had to be strong. Always had
his mother taught him that kings bore their hurts alone.

“Then why bring me?” she demanded bitterly. “Did Usseis order you to do that?”

“No.” Reiffen closed the small gold casket that lay on the nearest reading table,
hiding the thin streak of blood that marked the bottom.

“Then why?”

“Yes, Reiffen,” asked a voice from the door. “Why did you bring your mother?”

Mother and son turned. Fornoch towered over them in his gray robes, his black eyes
piercing the soft light. Whether he had entered normally, too silent for them to
notice, or magically, Reiffen couldn’t tell.

The Wizard inclined his head in the least deferential of bows. “My lady. Allow me to
welcome you to Ussene.”

Giserre moved closer to her son, her anger forgotten in the face of a common
enemy. “Yours is no welcome,” she replied.

“On the contrary, milady, mine is more welcome than either of my brothers’.
Ossdonc, I know, would relish another wife. And Usseis has uses for everyone.”

Reiffen pushed forward. “You might as well kill me, if you hurt her.”

Fornoch smiled. “As long as she remains out of my brothers’ way, she is unlikely to
receive injury.”

“Staying out of their way will be my pleasure,” answered Giserre. “I have no wish to
remain.”

“It was not I who brought you, milady. Nor my brothers. But, if he who did bring you
so prefers, I will send you back.”

Reiffen started. “You would do that?” With sudden selflessness he turned back to
Giserre. He had made the decision to bring her so quickly: what if he had been
wrong? “Mother. You’re right. I should never have brought you.”

“You should never have come yourself. Will you return if I do?”

Reiffen met his mother’s stare. His eagerness faded. “No. I have made my choice.”

“Then I must stay as well. I will not leave you here alone, no matter what I think of
your decision.”

“I will offer no second chance,” said Fornoch.

“I will ask none,” replied the lady.

“Very well. I have prepared a suite of rooms for the two of you. Reiffen, you will find
the arrangements much more satisfactory than on your previous stay, now that you
have come to us freely.”

The Gray Wizard led them out of the library into the passage beyond. Thick candles
lit the gloomy way, smoke blackening the walls and high ceiling. The dust raised by
their passing settled behind them like dreary fog. A short walk brought them to a
heavy wooden door that had not been in that particular hall the last time Reiffen had
been in Ussene. He saw at once it had been fashioned like the doors in Valing
Manor. Stout and dark, and seemingly stained with long years of use, the portal
swung open easily at the Wizard’s touch.

They found themselves in an ordinary sitting room. Dwarven lamps shone on the
walls, brightening the sofas and chairs. Fornoch gestured toward two more doors in
the far wall.

“Sleeping chambers lie beyond. I regret only one has a window. Certain elements of
this place are not particularly suitable for change. I presume, milady, you will prefer
the windowed room.”

The Wizard waited for her answer, but Giserre ignored him. Nor did she sit upon
either of the pillowed couches beside the hearth, nor on the cushioned chairs. Fine
tapestries covered the walls, the cloth glinting with thread of blumet, silver, and gold.
A sewing basket topped a low table beside one of the couches, a hoop of fine linen
near at hand.

“As you wish.” Fornoch folded his giant hands into his robe’s hanging sleeves. “You
will have any length of time in which to acquaint yourself with your new surroundings.
There is much to learn.”

A slight tap interrupted at the door. A ragged servant shuffled in, the woman’s eyes
glued fearfully to the floor. Reiffen thought there was something familiar about her,
and supposed he had passed her in the halls before his escape. A ratty shawl
wrapped her shoulders; scraps of shabby dresses covered her from throat to ankle.
Her filthy feet were bare.

“This is Spit,” introduced the Wizard. “Perhaps she will provide you the same loyalty
Molio once did.”

Reiffen flinched at the mention of his former friend and hoped his mother hadn’t
noticed. He had told no one about Molio.

But Giserre seemed more concerned with Spit. “My son and I require no servant of
yours, Wizard. We can care for ourselves.”

One gray brow lifted, almost in amusement, but the rest of the Wizard’s face
remained unchanged.

“Very well. You may find Ussene trying at even the best of times, beyond the walls of
this apartment. But, if this is what you wish, I shall leave you to your choice. Reiffen
knows where the refectories are, when you feel the need to dine. I had thought you
would prefer your meals alone.”

The Wizard turned to Reiffen before leaving. “Tomorrow your training will begin,” he
said. His servant followed him out into the corridor.

When Fornoch was gone, Giserre ignored her son the way she had the Wizard.
Lamplight washed across the floor as she opened the door to the right-hand room,
highlighting the color in the thick rug and the bright quilt covering the curtained bed.
Another upholstered chair, a desk for writing, a chest by the footboard, and a tall
wardrobe against the far wall completed the furniture. Giserre pushed the heavy
draperies that covered the window aside and opened the casements; a breath of the
outside world drifted in. Stars glittered in a narrow patch of sky, the shadows of tall
cliffs sealing the darkness below.

Reiffen opened the wardrobe doors. Women’s clothing lay piled neatly on the
shelves.

“Fornoch is right.” Giserre lifted the top of the chest, revealing more velvet, lace,
and fine linen. “I will take this room. Unless you prefer it.” The chest closed with a
hollow breath as she dropped the lid.

“No, Mother.”

She plucked at her homely robe. “Our hosts have thought of everything. I will not
have to wear my nightdress for the remainder of our stay.”

“I’m sorry, Mother, but this is what I have to do.”

Rather than replying, Giserre traced her hand along the yellow and gold flowers
stitched onto the light summer quilt, the royal hues of Banking.

“I embroidered a quilt like this myself, when I was not much older than you.” The
mattress gave softly as Giserre sat on it. “I doubt this is the same one, but they are
as alike as two peas. Life was simpler then. We only worried about the war. Now, no
more about your choice, my son. I have had mine as well. Tell me about Molio
instead.”

“I killed him, Mother,” he answered softly.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Had he attacked you?”

Reiffen shook his head.

“Threatened you? Did he hurt someone who had helped you?”

“He was my friend,” Reiffen whispered.

Giserre pursed her lips and patted the quilted flower at her side. “Come. Sit beside
me.”

He did as she asked. She took his palm in hers. Shivering, he squeezed her fingers.

“Usseis forced you, I suppose.”

Reiffen nodded.

“Then you should understand it was not an act of yours. Penance is due of course,
to acknowledge that you were the vessel of this terrible deed, and remorse. But the
guilt is not yours.” With her free hand she brushed his hair back from his forehead.

His throat felt dry and tight. “You don’t understand, Mother. It was worse than that. I
chose the manner of his dying. Usseis left that up to me.” He closed his eyes, which
only made the memory of the falling man burn more brightly, and shuddered. His
mother stroked his cheek.

“You would never have done it had Usseis not made you,” she said. “It is the killing
that is evil, not its manner. You cannot say what part of Usseis might have come into
you along with his will.”

Small tears melted along the sides of Reiffen’s nose. He couldn’t bring himself to tell
his mother how easily the treachery had come to him.

“Is that why you brought me with you?” she asked gently. “Because the Wizards
made you kill your friend?”

She lifted his hand, and together they looked at the pale end of his smallest finger.
The weight of the remaining thimble hung heavily on the other side.

“I was lonely.” He spoke in such a low voice he hardly heard what he said himself.
But his mother heard him plainly.

“Lonely? You could have solved that easily enough. You could have taken Avender
back with you, or—” Giserre checked her thought. “No. It would have been wrong to
take Ferris.”

“It would have been wrong to take either of them, Mother. The Wizards would have
made me kill them. Like Molio.”

“But not your mother.”

“No.” Reiffen barely mouthed the word. His heart felt close to bursting. He had killed
his friend, and now he had stolen his mother so he wouldn’t have to be alone among
the Wizards. He wondered again if she had been right, and everything he had done
since arriving in Ussene months ago had been at the command of the Three. But he
knew it wasn’t true. At the very least, the Three had never asked him to bring his
mother back to Ussene. That idea was entirely his own.

He flushed again at the thought of it.

“They won’t kill you.” He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Ferris and
Avender they might have killed and bound me all the same. But not you. Even they
know that would be too much.”

Giserre let go his hand and held him close. He hugged her tightly in return, and
sobbed into the comfort of her shoulder.

“My son,” she soothed. “I may disagree with your decision to return to this place, but
in this other matter you bear no blame. It would not have suited to have taken your
friends. I am with you now. We shall fight the Three together.”

Reiffen wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But what if I’m wrong? What if Usseis makes
me kill you, too?”

She pulled him closer. Through his snuffling tears he smelled Valing in her robe.
The pine smoke from the hearth and the damp summer green of the roaring flume
twined about him. He missed it all terribly. Valing was the only home he had ever
known.

“We will take what they give us,” she told him. “And when they try to turn us to their
purpose, we will fight them. In the meantime, we will learn what power we can.”

They explored the rest of the apartment. Reiffen was glad his bedroom didn’t have a
window. His chest and cupboard were filled with clothes the same as Giserre’s,
though not so fine, and on his bed lay a quilt worked in diamonds of black and
orange. “My brother’s,” said Giserre when she saw it. “Someone has been watching
Malmoret for many years.”

“Maybe Ossdonc remembers all this from when he was married to Queen Loellin.”

“My aunt rarely visited our home. And Cuhurran, as Ossdonc styled himself then,
was never with her when she did. When I saw him it was only in the palace, or riding
through the streets at the head of marching columns. Always smiling and laughing,
he was, as if the war with Wayland was a famous joke. But he was attractive, all the
same. My brother Gerrit worshipped him nearly as much as the queen. What is
this?”

Giserre pointed to a green pebble lying under a glass bowl on top of Reiffen’s desk.

“That’s the stone I told you about, Mother.”

“The Talking Stone? The one Avender found?”

“No, Avender lost Durk in the dungeons when we escaped. This is the one Fornoch
made for me. The Living Stone.”

“The one that might protect you?”

“Yes. Fornoch said if I swallowed it nothing would hurt me, and I’d never grow old.”

Giserre gestured toward the stone. “Perhaps you should use it, now you have
returned.”

“I don’t want to stay thirteen forever, Mother.”

He lifted the glass. The stone began to pulse and glow, its rhythm quickening as his
hand drew close. Beneath his fingers its surface was smooth and cold. When he
held it up to show his mother, it flashed in time with the steady beating of his heart.

“Take it,” Reiffen said. “It won’t hurt you.”

Trusting her son, Giserre plucked the stone from his hand. He felt a sharp spark, as
if his fingers had been pricked by a dozen pins, and his heart began to race. Giserre’
s face went white with pain. The stone glowed bright as a Dwarven lamp, then faded
back to darkness as Giserre dropped it on the floor, where it rolled under the bed.

Reiffen gasped. His heartbeat slowed, but he could still feel its heavy thumping.

“It would seem Fornoch did not tell the truth.” Giserre rubbed her fingers against her
thumb. “That stone seems particularly unsafe to me.”

“It never did that before.”

Curious, Reiffen searched beneath the bed. The stone, dark again, lay just beyond
his grasp. On hands and knees, he reached for it cautiously.

“Maybe you should leave it alone,” warned his mother.

Reiffen was only half-listening. He brought the tip of his finger close to the stone and
felt nothing, not even the smallest spark. Nor did the stone begin to glow, which it
had always done before whenever he came near it. Now it looked totally
unremarkable, like any other polished rock. He closed his hand about it; the stone
remained cold.

“Something’s happened,” he said as he stood back up. “The magic’s gone.”

“Perhaps you ruined it when you tried to give it to me.”

Reiffen held it out in his hand. Giserre reached for the stone a second time, not
expecting to be shocked again; but, as her hand drew close, the stone pulsed once
more.

Reiffen looked at his mother. No longer did the stone throb in time with his own
heartbeat. Giserre pulled her hand back slightly and looked with new fascination at
the faint green glow.

“Something must have happened when I gave it to you,” he said. “As if it switched to
you from me.”

Giserre said nothing. Her mouth parted slightly, she reached for the stone a third
time. The throbbing brightness increased. This time there was no spark when she
touched it. Reiffen felt nothing, either; his blood didn’t stir. Giserre lifted the pulsing
stone with the tips of her fingers and brought it close to her face.

“Is it beating in time with your heart?” Reiffen asked.

“Hmm?” Giserre did not take her eyes from the stone.

“The way it throbs, Mother. Is it in time with your heartbeat? It always was for me.”

Giserre frowned thoughtfully. “Yes. I think it is.”

“It must be set for you now.”

“How do you think that happened?”

Reiffen shrugged. “I have no idea. I haven’t learned any magic yet.”

Giserre turned the small stone back and forth in her fingers as if she were candling
an egg from the Manor henhouse. “What will Fornoch say when he sees the stone
no longer works for you?”

“For all I know, he knew this would happen. That I’d give you the stone. Take it,
Mother. It will keep you safe.”

“No. It is magic.”

“Everything is magic here. You can’t keep it from you forever.”

“Perhaps. All the same, I shall try to keep it away as long as possible. This stone
can only protect one of us, Reiffen, and I would rather that be you.”

“I’m not worried about myself, Mother. The Wizards want me alive. You’re the one
who might have an accident. Fornoch said so himself.”

“I suspect, should the Wizards wish to harm me, they will have ways to get around
their own wizardcraft.” Giserre held the stone up one last time, its green light winking
rapidly.

“It’s yours now,” said Reiffen as she started to replace it back beneath the glass,
“whether you want it or not. You shouldn’t leave it here.”

“My taking it would be as much as telling Fornoch what we have done.”

“I’m sure he already knows.”