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Another few days, another batch of bruises, Joss reflected ruefully as he headed toward the compound. He liked them all, Ezra and Rebecca, the odd Tai, Bryar. In the sparring match that morning, Bryar had taken him down. The man now fought with a terrifying focus and intensity – and then sat on the porch with his flute and played the sweetest music Joss had ever heard.
Weary of the others’ constant presence, he’d headed to the landslide site, to see it with fresh eyes. So many mysteries shielded Ezra’s compound that he no longer trusted his memory. Illusion protected the Old Man’s privacy, he supposed, but for the life of him he didn’t understand what the fuss was about.
At least he was confident he’d find his way to the slide. Once Ezra accepted you, the illusions became no more than vapors. But he agreed with Bryar; there had been no turnoff from the main trail when they’d first traversed the path.
The landslide was no illusion. Debris filled what had already been a bleak bowl in the hillside, a sure invitation to a twisted ankle – or worse, to being caught in the middle when the earth released again, raining boulders the size of a small house down on you. He had overheard Ezra instructing Tai to stay away from it, part of a gentle chiding for that first crossing she’d made, right after the slide. She pushed ahead through life accepting no boundaries, in Joss’s opinion, but at times a person needed rules and regulations to guide him – or her.
The whole earthquake business puzzled him. Earthquakes on Terra brought devastation. He’d experienced several in his season here, yet the glass in the windows at the Motherhouse seemed impervious. How did they do that? More of their magical hocus-pocus?
Our magical hocus-pocus, he corrected himself. He’d become one of them, if a minor player. No point denying it any longer.
After the thunderstorm four days ago, the world had dried out and crisped up. The air held a tang he now associated with apples. On Terra, fruit of any kind was a once-every-few-months treat; non-essential, and so not grown. Here, he couldn’t get enough. Overhead, reds and golds such as he’d never seen tinged the leaves; the few trees in his part of Northam Corporation turned a turgid, dirty gold, nothing approaching this radiance. The sun warming his skin, filtering through the branches, carried a gentler warmth with a hint of cold weather to come. Joss sensed the change in the seasons and wondered what winter would bring. Rebecca might be his best source of information, as Ezra showed little practical sense about things such as food and clothing, assuming – rightly – that all he needed would be there for him.
Ezra gestured to him when he emerged at the edge of the clearing that surrounded the compound of house, barn, and outbuildings. Joss ambled over to the porch, but before he could sit, Ezra struggled to his feet and held out a hand. “Help me please. I want to see the orchard, but my legs are unsteady.”
“Happy to.” Joss allowed the Old Man to grasp his arm and assisted him down the stairs and across the lawn, where a trail headed south through the woods.
“You respond to the change,” Ezra observed as they walked slowly toward the orchard. “More than mere observation, it’s in your bones.”
“Seems so.”
“How are the livestock?”
“Goat one, the big nanny, is bored. You can expect mischief there. The chickens are quite a bunch, chatting all day long.” Joss grinned. “Everyone’s healthy.”
“Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
On the edge of the orchard they found a small table and two chairs awaiting them. The table held a caff pot with matching miniature mugs and a plate of pastries. He shook his head in mild amazement. “Rebecca?”
“Tai, more likely.” Ezra dismissed the mysterious appearance of caff with a gesture. “We maintain our own resources, but when the apples and abricoes are ripe, we welcome assistance. The fruit is stored, dried, pressed into cider, processed into jelly, and baked into these excellent pastries. You could lend a hand if you’re willing.”
“Sure.” He eased the older man into a chair and took the other. Ezra poured from the caff pot. By now Joss knew about Ezra’s fondness for caff. The stuff waited ready on one table or another throughout the day.
“This is pleasant. Everyone responds to the passing of seasons, even those like me who are not earth clan. Expect snow before Solstice.”
Joss did the mental calculation; sixty days or so. Two months, back on Terra.
“Are you getting used to making decisions for yourself?”
The Old Man’s questions always poked at a sensitive spot, not that questions about his own nature and the way of life on his new planet didn’t teem in his mind. “It’s hard sometimes. Like working weak muscles. After a lifetime of people telling me what to do...” He shrugged, offered the pastries to Ezra, then took one himself.
“So you work that muscle, learn to use your brain to discern your best course. Now, you want to improve your whisperer skills. And spend more time in the Hallan valley. You hope Willow will return – to you, unless I miss my guess.” Ezra bit into his pastry and gazed out across the apple trees, laden with red, yellow, and green fruits, the overripe ones littering the ground and filling the air with a fruity, yeasty aroma.
Willow. The rituals surrounding men and women on this planet remained a mystery to him, and he never quite mustered the courage to ask about them. But he’d learned that Ezra not only seemed to know everything, but was willing to hear anything Joss wanted to talk about. And he’d longed to explore the topic of Willow ever since that day in the meadow. He plunged in, aware of the heat on his face and grateful for Ezra’s fixed gaze on the fruit trees.
“Willow and I, we...” The words wouldn’t come; he hoped Ezra would figure out what he meant. “It changed things, for me, anyway. Did it affect her the same way? Or was it just... I know about her and Bryar. And probably others. I feel a bit lost, to be honest.”
Ezra picked up his little caff mug, but cradled it rather than drinking. “You’re on your own when it comes to learning Willow’s feelings. I will say that here, some people form exclusive sexual relationships, while some take many partners. There’s nothing preventing either type of relationship, and no predominance of one over the other. It is unusual, however, for a Weaver to mate with a single person. The nature of our lives precludes it, and probably some oddity about our minds. For a while, after Romarin’s birth, I expected Willow and Bryar to commit, but it wasn’t to be. They traveled together for three years with Mari before they separated, so there will always be a special understanding between them. You need to accept that.”
“But for Willow and me?”
“Be honest, and it will sort out. But recognize, too, that Willow, Bryar, and Quinn are involved in this mess with the power cell. Willow may have already fulfilled her part. Bryar is starting his. And Quinn...” Ezra stopped and smiled. “After training, a journey Weaver works with a mentor for a year. You’ve met Dal, he was Willow’s mentor. I was Quinn’s. I care about that girl, and I worry. Because of her ability to walk templates, she may find herself in danger – not to mention that she’s far too willing to put herself at risk.”
Joss’s mouth twitched at Ezra’s use of the word ‘girl’ for Quinn.
The two men ate pastries, sipped caff, and said nothing. A breeze rippled the yellowing leaves on the apple trees, sending a few of them skittering along the ground.
“What do you expect of me?” Joss asked.
Ezra cleaned his fingers on a linen napkin before answering. “For you to recognize your own worth. I do believe you must return to the Motherhouse. We haven’t plumbed the full scope of your gift, nor have you mastered it, but it may prove to be a valuable resource. There are people in the world who mean no good to us. If you could read them-”
“Are you talking about Kiril? He’s having a hard time adapting, but he’s a good man. His life was a lot more tied to the hierarchy on Terra than mine.”
“No, not Kiril. Two at least, the other side of the hills.”
“Do you know the man Willow found? The one who healed Bryar?” Gauvain had spooked him; he sensed the man’s power, and his pride.
“Yes, from years ago. He exhibited the brashness of youth and confidence in his own abilities, a presaging, I believe, of how he must be today. That’s a big part of the reason for the shielding around the compound. I am confident I could triumph, should it come to a battle, but the older I get, the less I choose to test that belief. I don’t want Gauvain, or Duncan, to find me.”
“Duncan... the other one?”
“Yes, and in his own way possibly more dangerous. They both seek supremacy. Life in Borgonne has always been predicated on hierarchy, one of several reasons we discourage – shall we call them adventures? – in the hills. Your party was an exception, and against my better judgment. Kiril tried to move the cell through the hills, but a confusion weave prevented him from going more than a day’s journey before he found himself back where he started. He’s determined and enterprising, so it required two more forays before he gave it up. And while he fought the confusion, we suffered the loss of the Aura, because he didn’t keep it shielded. Even packing it in dirt would have helped. But Kiril probably wasn’t aware of that, nor did he realize how detrimental it can be. He too wants power, but as a means to save himself, not for its own sake. As you said, he’s confused about his place here. He’ll find it, so he doesn’t concern me so much. I am concerned, however, about securing the cell, wherever it is.”
“You don’t know?” Joss had assumed Ezra knew everything.
“In general terms. We need to claim it, and soon, before Gauvain and Duncan find it.”
“So my abilities, if trained, could tell us what they’re feeling – I can’t read thoughts.”
“No, but that may be enough. Suppose, for instance, someone enters the hills. He might elect to bring pack animals with him, or goats for meat. But the spells in the hills would spook any domestic animal. And you could pick up on that, as well as on Gauvain’s own feelings. Despite his bravado, I doubt he’s happy in the hills.”
Joss stretched back in his chair, allowing the sun to dance on his face, and rubbed his chin; shaving was not a simple task on this world, but he disliked not being clean shaven. “I’d love to hear how you met those guys.”
“It was a long time ago.” Ezra made a small, dismissive gesture with his hand. Whatever the backstory, Joss wouldn’t learn it today.
“So, I’ll stay here and work with Bryar, and help with the harvest, then go to the Motherhouse around Solstice?”
“The weather may turn before then, but that’s likely the best compromise. I’ll notify Arwen to expect you, since she’ll need time to develop a training plan. You’re an anomaly, arriving full grown with powers that only occur once in generations. I’ve never met an animal whisperer before.”
“I still don’t understand it.” But he couldn’t regret it, either. Reading the thoughts, if you could call them that, of the animals was a joy. The cow tended to be stand-offish, but both the goats and the chickens in Ezra’s compound had become his friends. Despite that, sometimes he needed a break. On his own he’d begun devising ways to shut out the incessant chatter from the henhouse, with limited success.
Ezra read his thoughts. “It’s a standard technique, Joss. All Weavers shield their minds. We’d go mad otherwise. You’ll learn how at the Motherhouse. I regret I don’t have time to teach you.”
“Then why can’t Bryar just shield himself? Why the need for new protocols?”
Ezra made a quick, dismissive gesture. “Shielding from others is one thing. Shielding from the Aura itself is quite another. Bryar could never handle his quest with his Auric connection unshielded, quite apart from the fact that both his main rivals are stronger in power than he is.”
“Okay, I get it. But after seeing what happened to Willow...”
“Nobody wants that. I’ll do my best to prevent it.”
Everything centers on the thirst to control the power cell, Joss concluded as he returned to the compound with Ezra on his arm, his free hand carrying the linen cloth with the dishes wrapped inside it. The damned thing was his and Kiril’s responsibility, so he’d make himself available to Ezra and Bryar, he’d train and become adept at being a whisperer, he’d do what he could.