She could keep any emotion from shadowing her face, even the frustration she and the grove shared at that, moment. He'd come close. He'd come very close and brought the cup to his lips, but he had not sipped or swallowed. And she did not know whether disenfranchised templars in general, or only this templar in particular, were incapable of druidry.
Of course, if all templars were quitters...
But she wasn't fool enough to think that. She sensed that Pavek's shortcomings were uniquely his own.
"You lack patience, persistence, and, most of all, you lack faith of any kind in me, in my grove, in yourself. I'm the one who's been cheated and deceived, Pavek. You said you wanted to learn; you lied. Find your own way, Just-Plain Pavek, if you dare."
She gathered up her hat and veil, though the sun was close to setting and its light wouldn't bother her eyes when she left the grove, left him here overnight. He was quite safe, unless he tried something destructive. And if he was foolish enough to do that, he deserved to spend eternity among the roots.
Pavek stiffened as she floated up from the ground. Fear was the dominant emotion on his face, and his thoughts were so focused on Ruari's exhortation: Feed his bones to the trees, Grandmother, that the half-elf's spiteful words echoed literally through the trees.
He shouted "Wait!" and without waiting to see if she heard or complied, squeezed his eyes shut.
Tilting her head to one side, listening to the guardian's surge as it honored an evocation, she sank back to the grass. Pavek hadn't suddenly acquired faith, but he was desperate, too desperate to think and, according to Akashia, this would-be druid was at his best when he wasn't thinking.
There was no grunting or straining this time, merely a prolonged exhalation that emptied his mind as well as his lungs. She leaned forward, holding her breath as the guardian stirred. There was an image visible on the surface of Pavek's mind: King Hamanu, the Lion of Urik, astride a mound of vanquished warriors with the severed head of one of them gripped in his upstretched hand.
Her blood froze: if Pavek summoned the sorcerer-king through Quraite's guardian spirit, they were doomed. She willed herself to intercede, but Pavek held the guardian, and it resisted her.
She knew a moment of fear darker and deeper than any other in her life. She called on her own faith to sustain her, and then there was water.
Everywhere.
An otherworldly image of the Lion-King hovered above her spring, with water seeping from the wounds of the warriors beneath its feet. More water spouted from the mouth of the head he held in his hand. Water looped and spiraled and formed a swirling cloud around Pavek himself.
"A fountain!" she laughed, in genuine relief as water splashed her face. "You remembered a fountain! Water and stone together! Well done!"
Pavek's fountain collapsed the instant her words penetrated his consciousness. He was drenched and dazed. For several moments he did not move at all. Her elation faded: a druid's first invocation was the most dangerous, because the guardian must be released at its end. The more a neophyte druid invoked, the more dangerous the release. Pavek had invoked far more than the few splattering drops she'd expected, and there was a very real chance he'd invoked more than he could safely release. She held her breath, waiting for the ground to open and guardian to claim him.
Finally he blinked and raised his still-dripping hands.
"Water. My water." He extended his arms toward her. "My water."
She pressed her fingertips against his. It was an awesome personal accomplishment for a faithless man, and a chilling precedent.
"Yes," she agreed solemnly. No need to share her doubts and concerns. "It's a beginning, Pavek. The beginning of another race. Will you finish it? Can you win it?"
The innocent joy drained from his face.
"You can, Just-Plain Pavek," she assured him, and herself, as she invoked Quraite's guardian and rose above the grass. "Tomorrow. Here. Now, return home. Supper will be waiting for you."
The moons had set and his clothes were dry by the time Pavek returned to Quraite. He'd hoped Yohan was the silhouette squatting by the lone fire, but it was Ruari instead. The half-elf looked up as he approached. Ruari said nothing, and Pavek didn't either, once he saw his medallion hanging from the half-wit scum's neck.
Chapter Ten
A fist-sized oil lamp hanging from a crossbeam cast shadowy light through the single room. Telhami sat on a wicker bench, her eyes closed. She'd slumped, precariously pressed against the bark-covered center pole. Her head had fallen forward at an odd angle. For one horrifying moment, Akashia thought her friend and mentor had died.
"Grandmother?" Akashia couldn't make herself cross the threshold. "Grandmother..."
Telhami awakened with a shudder. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the doorway.
"Kashi? Kashi, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? Is something wrong?"
"You summoned me," Akashia whispered. "You were dreaming, Grandmother. You summoned me from your own dreams." Her voice grew louder, steadier as the situation became clearer.
Telhami shook her head, but her face grew thoughtful.
Akashia became convinced she saw things correctly: "You're worried about Pavek and Laq, aren't you, Grandmother? Confide in me, Grandmother. Tell me what troubles you. I brought him and his problems to Quraite. Let me help you deal with them."
"No." Telhami continued to shake her head. "It's nothing that serious, Kashi. Certainly nothing for you to worry about. Pavek strives hard, but learns slowly. It's frustrating for both of us, no worse than that. And Laq is a problem that will solve itself."
"How?"
"I don't know-yet."
Bracing herself against the bench and the center pole, Telhami pushed herself upright. She took an unsteady step, releasing the bench but keeping her other hand's fingertips curled firmly on the rough bark for balance.
"But I will, Kashi. I will. It's a matter of time and memory. A little more of each, and I'll have the answer."
"Not if you wear yourself out first." She accepted the fundamental truth of Telhami's assertion. Where Quraite's guardian and Quraite's history were concerned, she hadn't learned much-she wasn't ready to learn. But Pavek was another matter. "If the templar has told the truth about Laq, then Laq is the more serious problem. The templar himself is insignificant Surely he didn't learn anything in the Don's archive that is more important than what the Lion's minions are doing with our zarneeka. Let me teach Pavek in my grove for a few days, at least until you've found what you're searching for. I've led the children through their catechism. I enjoy it, and you'd be free to do what only you can do."
Telhami removed her hand from the pole. She stood straighter, and her eyes, when she turned around, were clear and bright. "Pavek is not a child, Kashi. Pavek is a man, a young man with a mind and strong thoughts of his own."
"Grandmother, I'm not blind. I know exactly what Pavek is. I kenned him when he first told us his tale. His thoughts were strong, but there weren't very many of them. His spirit isn't dark, it's empty. Scarred and empty. I could almost pity him, Grandmother, but no more than that."
"Almost?"
She lowered her eyes. In Urik, she'd barely pierced the surface of Pavek's mind when she kenned him for his basic character. Still, what she had encountered had both surprised and saddened her.
"You taught me that children are all innocent and full of potential, and that men and women are uniquely good or evil according to the sum of their deeds. But Pavek's not like that. He's not anything. His memory is filled with terrible images, Grandmother. Evil images. But he's empty. He risked his life to tell us about Laq; he risked it again to save Ruari's. And yet he's empty. It's as if Pavek has the shape of a man, but the spirit of-of something broken. Something that never grew. The spirit of I don't know what."