The weights lifting from my spirit and my back told me when the shadow had gone. A beam of sunlight pierced the forest roof, stinging my eyes. The still air smelled properly of hot pine needles and dry leaves, and a jay’s raucous chattering roused the other birds. Jacopo and I reacted as one.
“Aeren, what was that?”
“What madness is this, Seri?” I had never heard Jacopo afraid.
“I don’t know, Jaco,” I said. “I don’t know.”
A frowning Aeren paid no attention to my question, but urged us down the trail toward the cottage, casting frequent glances toward the ridgetop. I had no mind to argue with him. Whatever we had experienced, I wanted no more of it. But by the time we reached the meadow and the cottage, the event was already fading into insubstantial memory, a lingering revulsion like the taste of spoilt milk. What had really happened besides a cloud passing over the sun?
Aeren himself was of far more interest to me. One language I had not tried with him. I knew only a few words, for most were long buried in the depths of history, and I had believed no one still living in the world could understand them.
“Aeren, J’Ettanne y dise?”
Though he shook his head, his face came alive in a way I had not yet seen. I tried a few more words, and he recognized some, but not all, as if this was a language of which he, too, knew only fragments. Did he mean that he was not J’Ettanne or that he didn’t know? I couldn’t seem to make my question clear. One more thing to try. I formed a question in my mind with absolute clarity, sweeping aside every other thought and concern until the words stood alone like stone pillars in the desert, and then I took Aeren’s hand and laid it on my temple, inviting him, with the gesture Karon had taught me, to read what was inside. He yanked his hand away and shook his head angrily, then rapped his clenched fist rapidly against his brow. So he couldn’t do it, but he knew exactly what I meant.
I could hardly contain my excitement. Excitement—how strange it was. I should be terrified. No one could get wind of this or all of our lives would be forfeit: Aeren’s, mine, Jaco’s…
The old sailor sat on Jonah’s bench beside the cottage door, staring at the horizon, his wide hands braced stiffly on his knees. I sat down beside him and laid my hand over his gnarled fingers. His skin was cold.
“Jaco, I’m so sorry. I’d never have gotten you involved if I’d suspected this.”
“Can he truly take our souls? Was that what he was doing up there? Evil, Seri. I’ve never felt such evil.”
“I’m not sure exactly what happened up there. The first part, when he did the magic, yes. When you felt prickly and alive. But what came later—the stink, the feeling of snakes slithering up your back—that was outside my experience. But I swear to you that sorcery itself is not evil, and, though he is surely dangerous—wild, half-mad, I think—I don’t believe Aeren means us any harm.” A sorcerer… one of Karon’s people… How in the name of all gods had he happened to come here? “I’m not sure what to do.”
“They’ll arrest you if they find out, little girl. They’ll finish what they started. You can’t let him stay.”
“What they’d do to me is not half what they’d do to him, and the way he is, I’m not sure he would even know why.”
Aeren roamed restlessly across the meadow. I caught up with him, determined to get some explanation. “What was up there?” I gestured toward the hilltop.
He picked two blades of grass, one green and healthy, one brown and withered. Holding the green blade in the fingers of one hand, he passed his other palm over it, leaving only the withered blade exposed. That was clear enough. When he pointed to the trees and the cottage and folded his arms over his head, I gathered that such were places to hide. When I pressed him further, he shrugged and walked away.
The J’Ettanni language had denned no simple word for sorcery. It had been no more necessary than for other men to have a word for what it is that makes them get up in the morning, set one foot in front of the other, or inhale and exhale. But for my own safety and Jaco’s, I had to teach Aeren the difference between sorcery and other actions. He demonstrated no sense that there was anything unusual about what he had done and no understanding of the dreadful consequences if others saw such things.
I caught up to Aeren again and persuaded him to follow me. Taking a large rock from the stream, I demonstrated that I could not make my knife penetrate the stone. He was surprised. Stars in the heavens, where had he been? When I handed him the rock and my knife, and indicated that I wanted him to try it, he looked puzzled. But with a shrug, he stabbed my knife into the rock with no more effort than if it were a lump of cheese.
Though I had been prepared for it, my heart crashed against my ribs. I took Aeren’s hand and made him look at me. “Sorcery,” I said. He frowned and gestured for another word. I pointed to the rock and said its name, and I pointed to the knife and did likewise, but I pointed to them joined and said, “Sorcery.”
What else could he do? He was not a Healer; I would have seen the scars. Karon had borne so many. Lifegiver, his people had called him. I dragged Aeren to the garden and showed him the bean vines that had wilted in the heat. “Can you make them grow?” I asked, miming my words as I spoke. “Make them healthy like the rest?” He thought what I wanted was ridiculous, but I insisted that he show me. He brushed his fingers over the plant, touching leaves and stem gently. A few of the leaves took on a deeper green, and for a short distance the vine became thicker, but most of the plant remained limp and withered. After only a short time he ripped the vine out by the roots, threw it down, and ground it beneath his sandaled foot.
“It’s all right,” I said, trying to remain calm and keep him the same. I retrieved the vine and pointed to the leaves he had changed, saying again, “Sorcery.”
That piqued his curiosity. With his eyes narrowed, he bade me come to the fire ring in the dirt near the cottage. He piled up tinder and kindling in the ring of blackened stones, and then he blew softly across his palm and passed his hand over the little mound, staring at it intently. After a few moments, a smoky tendril curled upward, and then another joined it, and another until a tiny flame poked its head above the dry stuff. Though the flame went out almost immediately, Aeren looked satisfied and gestured to me that he wanted the word.
“Sorcery,” I said, and he smiled with a brilliance that dimmed the day.
So the first hurdle was done. He knew what kind of things were sorcery. Now to convince him that he mustn’t do any more of it. As I tried to explain, he acted puzzled, like a child suddenly told not to walk after being so praised for the accomplishment.
Poor Jacopo watched all these activities uncomfortably. Though they had known the crimes of which I had been accused, I had never discussed sorcery with Jacopo, Anne, or Jonah. Why distress them? I had fought my battles and lost.
But on this strange afternoon, I stepped back into the fray. I cared nothing for anyone; I would not cross a road to save a life. For ten years I had believed that human beings were the most despicable of creatures, vile, murderous hypocrites who would slaughter their own. Even the J’Ettanne, who so piously celebrated life, had taught their children that their destiny was to die, refusing to lift their hands to stop it. Yet in the end I was as bad as the rest of them, manipulating others, endangering lives to serve my own ends. I pressed a mug of ale into my only friend’s hand and told him that my curiosity and my hatred were going to put him in mortal danger. “I’ve decided what to do next,” I said, my cheeks hot, my limbs so light they might have belonged to someone else entirely. “I’m going to find this man who’s searching for him.”