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It had taken Willow all day to descend from the eerie hills, where her last glimpse of Bryar and Joss had been their backs as they set out for home. Tired, hungry, and feeling very alone, she arrived in the town of Orlan at dusk and turned north from the market square toward the black tower.
Could anything but desperation have driven her to return to this cold place? At a minimum, she expected Gauvain, the tower’s intimidating Mage, to sneer at her plain tunic. The memory of the fancy dress he’d insisted she wear when she’d been his guest a few nights before brought a fleeting grin to her face. That outfit now lay scrunched at the bottom of her pack, covered in dirt and stains.
She’d be expected, she reassured herself. Given the carrot Gauvain had dangled before her, promising to restore her lost Healing powers, he could hardly think she might refuse his summons.
Drawing on her dwindling courage, she stepped up to the tower’s imposing front door, raised the knocker, and let it fall. The sound of metal striking metal wiped out any hint of amusement at Gauvain’s sartorial demands. Someone would open the door, and then what? She swallowed and waited.
To her relief, the old, hunched-over servant answered her knock.
“Come in, my dear. The Master instructed me to provide you with a bath and clothing, as before. If you would follow me?”
As Willow stepped into the entry hall she caught a hint of amusement in the man’s face. He was laughing at Gauvain, or the situation. Surely that meant she need not worry, or at least not too much. Following a brief tussle over who should carry her pack, a tussle she won, the old man closed the door behind them and turned to the stairs.
“I am Willow,” she said as they climbed. “Will you tell me your name?”
“Leo, Miss. The Master informs me that eventually you will join the apprentice class, but he wishes you to reside here rather than in the apprentices’ hall. A good choice, I believe, for all that he has his own ways.”
The stairs wound up the curve of the tower. Willow had been too exhausted and traumatized by Bryar’s injury to pay attention before. Now she did. Small, high windows provided daylight that fought to gain purchase against the black stone. The reddish wood of the banister and stairs gleamed, but the narrow staircase encroached on Willow’s love of open spaces, leaving her slightly claustrophobic. There were no decorations, no hangings or implements on the walls. Not a welcoming ascent.
She was to stay in the same room she had occupied before. “I have laid out bathing things,” Leo told her, “and provided a mirror, although the Master believes they contribute to female students’ vanity. The wardrobe is well stocked. For classes, there is a black student’s gown. At any other time, he will wish you to be ‘suitably attired’. Please inform me if you need anything else. And I will handle your laundry.”
“Yes, clean her up, for all our sakes.”
Willow turned. Gauvain stood in the doorway, filling it. She abruptly felt penned in, which made her want to fly to freedom. Instead, she swallowed again and resolved not to be intimidated. This man intended to restore her Entrée, reconnect her to the life-enhancing power of the planetary Aura, as an educational experiment of sorts, and so far had done her no harm other than with his harsh words.
“Good day. As you see, I am here.”
“As I expected.” Gauvain strode into the room, stopped in front of her, and surveyed her top to toes. “I don’t suppose you could teach her to style her hair?” he asked Leo. “No, I mustn’t hope for miracles.” He returned his attention to her. “Bathe, I beseech you, and do not be late for dinner. There is much to discuss. And I am eager to begin your first treatment. I find myself curious to get inside that head of yours. Your case is unique.”
Willow had just parted from her friends and walked an entire day through the summer heat. Tired and in no mood to deal with his rude demands, she stood straighter. “You will not explore my head tonight. I am weary, I feel the start of a headache, and I want nothing more than to be clean and fed. Tomorrow, when I am rested, we can discuss the treatment.”
Gauvain’s cold gaze locked onto hers, his eyes dark blue flints set in the tense muscles of his face. “This once I am willing to accede to your wishes. Do not make defiance a habit, however. Leo, see that she presents herself on time. And please, burn that thing.” He gestured at her tunic, then wheeled and left the room.
She looked at Leo. “He sucks the energy out of a place, doesn’t he?”
“You are brave, Miss. Not many dare stand up to him.”
Maybe, but at the moment that surge of defiance was deserting her. She sank onto a cushioned chair that formed part of a comfortable seating area tucked in the corner. “Please don’t destroy my tunic. I will need it when I return home.”
“The Master doesn’t believe you will ever return. The tunic will be safe on the top shelf of the wardrobe.”
“Thank you. You’ve done a lot to make me feel welcome.”
“Tonight I shall ring a gong for dinner. I apologize for not doing so before. I understand he was... cranky? Tomorrow I will be pleased to show you the kitchen. Should you need my services, you can usually find me there, and I suspect it might be more compatible with your tastes.” Leo bustled to the window, opened the glass, peeked into the bathing chamber and nodded at whatever arrangements he had made, then bowed to her as best he could, given his hunched-over frame. “Listen for the gong, Miss.”
When the door closed on the elderly servant, Willow allowed herself to sag against the back of the chair. So this was it. Alone in a foreign land, in a black tower that felt... alien. And then there was Gauvain. She straightened her spine, got to her feet, and stripped out of her tunic and trousers. She had dealt with him before, and she could do it again. Full of renewed determination, she crossed the room to the bathing chamber, more than ready to sink into the unimaginable luxury of hot water.
~~
“PASSABLE,” GAUVAIN pronounced.
Willow paused in the doorway, subjecting him to equal scrutiny. He wore black, as always. His shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers and fit close to his body, a style unknown in the Midland. A short cape draped over his shoulders emitted a metallic shimmer in the light from the Aura-powered globes scattered around the room.
“Less comfortable than a tunic, but the fabric is lovely.” It hadn’t taken her long to discover the wonders of the mirror, something altogether new to her. Leo’s choice of dress was a low-cut blue gown encrusted with silver embroidery. With its wide skirt, the thing held enough fabric for two or three tunics. It itched where it clung to her skin, and the dip in the bodice made her uneasy, but despite the drawbacks Willow had been astonished, then bemused by her appearance. Her clean, pale blonde hair lay over her shoulders in a sheet of cornsilk. The shoes matching the dress were too small, so instead of reassuming her hiking boots she had opted to go barefoot to this meal. A pair of simple sandals should be adequate footwear even for such elaborate outfits; she resolved to ask Leo for a pair. No doubt she risked offending Gauvain’s fashion sense, but she respected her own limits of discomfort in what she wore.
She shifted her gaze from the man to his setting. Objects positively encrusted the dining room. Tables and shelves bore as many articles as they could hold, almost none of which conveyed any meaning to her, but she suspected they were not merely decorative. Gauvain had uses for them. Heavy wine-red drapes shrouded parts of the walls in a fabric that alternately caught and rejected the light. The walls matched the draperies, creating an obscurity that could be intimidating, should she allow herself to be intimidated. The better for the Master of the room to remain in command, she reflected, then took her place at the table across from him as Leo appeared carrying two plates.
Gauvain poured a ruby wine into the patterned silver goblet before her. “I ask that you at least attempt to develop a taste for this. Besides enhancing the meal, it will help relax your mind, which will make our work go more smoothly.”
He toasted her and drank. In return, she lifted her goblet and sipped. “As I told you before, I prefer beer,” she said.
His mouth tightened in annoyance. “Be careful, you risk boring me. You speak like a peasant.”
“By your standards, I come from a peasant culture. I like it. It is a place of kindness and sharing.”
Gauvain looked up from his chicken, which swam in a pale sauce. “Oh, please, Willow-who-is-not-Willow. Don’t give me that romantic nonsense about the wonderful civilization on your side of the hills. Let me guess. No one ever is cruel, there is no crime, sickness and depression and loneliness have been banished. The sun shines always, no one goes hungry. Have I got it right so far?”
The chicken was excellent. Willow ignored his outburst in favor of food. She knew from her previous stay that when Gauvain finished his meal, the plates would be whisked away. Tonight she intended to eat her fill before that happened.
“Well?”
She swallowed. “Of course not. But being a Weaver in my land is rewarding. By contrast, I found the people in your town unfriendly, and nothing is green here.” And she faced two seasons, minimum, in this bleak place.
“I will have a plant placed in your room,” he replied coldly.
The meal progressed in silence. Willow risked a few more sips of the wine. If its consumption aided his work to restore her Aura connection, she’d try it.
Gauvain rested his fork on his plate. “Your attention, please, while I outline my expectations.” He cleared his throat. “You will attend my apprentice classes as soon as we sense even a trickle of Entrée. Practice assiduously and remember that you are not a Weaver here, but merely an older woman whose powers are late developing.”
Older woman? “What ages are the apprentices?” she asked. “And how many are there? Boys or girls?”
The tightening around his eyes told her she had annoyed him again. Clearly, no one questioned Gauvain, or interrupted him. “Four, and they are thirteen years old or thereabouts. One girl. For the most part, females that age are too flighty to attend to their lessons.”
“Puberty is powerful,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He ignored her. “Until you are ready to join the class, practice your manners. I entertain occasionally. You will serve as hostess in my home, and display the grace and confidence that implies. I have retained a woman to instruct you. Now, regarding your clothing – Leo has provided you with a suitable wardrobe?”
“A wardrobe, certainly. I cannot speak to its suitability.”
“Never wear the same outfit to both breakfast and dinner. I trust you to learn the difference between morning and evening attire. You will present yourself promptly and fall in with my plans – without demur.”
“That might be a problem.”
Their eyes met and clashed across the table.
“And why?”
Willow took another bite of the chicken, chewed and swallowed, while Gauvain radiated annoyance. “Because I may be ill, for instance, or suffer from my monthly courses. I might-”
His hand hit the dark, polished wood beside his plate. “You never mention such things. Deal with it as you must, but keep your female problems to yourself.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Is it a secret that women bleed? What is so mysterious?”
“Here, it is not mentioned. Do not forget.”
“Very well.” With his pontificating, she had finished her dinner. She took a last bite of vegetables, then said, “Please go on.”
His face gradually resumed its disapproving mien. “On occasion, we will venture out to a social event. Again, I expect the utmost in manners and discretion. I daresay a rumor will take root that you are my new paramour; do nothing to disabuse them of that idea.”
“Impossible,” Willow said. “I am not and will not be your lover.”
His nostrils flared. “Undoubtedly. That I would choose to consort with a peasant-grown chit like you is absurd. But in society, that may be the assumption. Do not cause me embarrassment by denying it.”
She stared at him. Leo came in and whisked away their plates while they hung in impasse.
“Now, what else?” Gauvain leaned back and steepled his hands before his face. “When we begin your treatments, you will be subject to my command and submit entirely to my wishes. Your recovery depends on this, so do not disappoint me. Undoubtedly it will be unpleasant.”
“How unpleasant?”
“I cannot say. As I told you, your case is unique. You will endure, and report progress. When you begin attending classes, be quiet and absorb the lessons. It must be assumed you have knowledge the other students do not, but you will keep such learning to yourself. I will not have you fomenting agitation among my apprentices.”
“You needn’t worry. I know it is risky to learn things too early in training.”
“Excellent. Your first proper response tonight. To continue, I require you to be rested. Yawning is insufferable, and the ignorant believe that a yawn allows malevolent spirits to enter. Nonsense, obviously, but one cannot rely on society’s intelligence. These myths are pernicious. Have you questions?”
“Yes. How long has this town been here?”
“What else?” He passed over her question. Willow suspected he didn’t know the answer. She was beginning to build a picture of the man, his assumptions about himself.
“Will I have free time to explore it?”
“Why would you wish to? A dirty place filled with people who can’t be bothered to speak properly.”
“I am not convinced I will like it, but I don’t want to feel myself a prisoner here.”
Again that meeting of eyes. His never softened. “Given the primitive nature of your culture, I’m quite certain you have no money, so I will arrange with Leo for you to receive an allowance. When I do not require your presence, you may do as you please, as long as you do not embarrass me. But I recommend you devote yourself to your studies. Because if you fail, I will turn you out.”
“I’m no more than human, but I will do my best.”
“Can you read, by any chance?”
“It forms part of our studies, although we have little use for it.” She didn’t mention that because of her early training as an archivist, she was handier with letters and reading than most.
“In time I may allow you access to my library. You must earn that privilege, however. You may use the lounge and the dining room, and eventually the apprentices’ workroom. Do not enter my study without permission.”
“I expect to visit the kitchen as well.”
Gauvain made a dismissive gesture with his hand, then reached for his goblet. “It is plain and unadorned. Leo prefers it that way. I suppose it is functional for him.”
“Functional suits me well.” She saw no way that the objects filling the tables and walls could enhance her life.
Gauvain drained the goblet and dropped his napkin onto the table. “This meal is over. Your lessons in comportment begin tomorrow after breakfast. I will instruct Judith to teach you first to hold your tongue.”
After he stalked from the room, she rose and located the candleholder she had used the last time she dined here. There was no fire starter, and the comfortable glow from the Aura-fueled globes was fading. Her fire stone was upstairs in her pack. Trusting the lingering evening to provide enough light for her to mount the dark staircase safely, she took the candle holder, and a second candle besides, and made her way up the stairs.