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Caedmon stood in a daze, too relieved to speak. He had honestly thought Ellard would kill him, but the strange madness that had possessed the boy seemed to have passed now. His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched. He certainly looked sorry for what he had done. A minute ago, Ellard had looked defiant. And now he was completely transformed.
Caedmon was not sure he believed the transformation. He wanted to believe it, but he was no longer sure that he could trust his own judgment where Ellard was concerned. “He looks sorry,” thought Caedmon, “but is he sorry for what he did to Stasya and the others, or is he only sorry that we caught him?”
They were going back to Diernemynster, where they belonged. In fact, they never should have left. What had he been thinking? Why had he convinced himself that now was the time for reconciling with Myrcia? “I have been a fool,” he thought. Myrcia was not ready to reconcile; it might be generations before they were ready. They didn’t want hillichmagnars’ help to combat the plague. They wanted superstition and fortunetelling and frauds like Garnett.
Eventually, Caedmon sat down with Ellard on the steps of the memorial and heard the boy’s full confession. Ellard explained how he had tried to seduce Stasya, and how he had used her to gather samples of diseased flesh. Caedmon insisted that Ellard fetch these grisly trophies and incinerate them right there on the spot, just for safety’s sake. As they burned, Ellard told how he had put spells on Calleigh Dell and Alwin Garnett when he had caught them creeping near the hillichmagnars’ camp. He admitted, blushing with something that might have been shame, that he had been planning to go to Odeland with Stasya.
After hearing it all, Caedmon wasn’t sure whether it made what Ellard had done seem worse, or better. In either case, though, it made Caedmon’s failures more acute. The boy had formed an attachment with Stasya. Caedmon had noticed this; he had even spoken to Ellard about it, but he could have done more to discourage the boy from becoming further entangled.
Eventually, Pallavi and Stasya came out on the steps, too. Calleigh Dell and Alwin Garnett, they said, were mostly recovered. The supposed “doctor” had promised to find them horses and food as a small measure of recompense for the harm he had done, and Calleigh had gone back to her room in the palace to find more clothes that Stasya and Pallavi could use.
“So, I assume you two will go to Diernemynster with us,” said Caedmon. He dreaded the thought of that long ride alone with Ellard. It wasn’t that he feared for his safety. He was fairly certain the boy would not threaten him again. But he couldn’t stand the thought of all that silence between the two of them.
Stasya looked at Ellard and grimaced. Then she turned to Pallavi and asked, “Do I really have to go?”
Caedmon was taken aback by the question, and by the look the girl had given Ellard. Or rather, he was taken aback by the sudden realization of how clueless he had been. Of course Stasya would be nervous about traveling with Ellard. Why hadn’t he anticipated that?
“To Diernemynster?” said Pallavi, after a few seconds of reflection. “You can go there if you like, my dear girl, though I can’t personally recommend the place. I don’t think you enjoyed it any more than I did, and I can assure you it doesn’t get better the longer you stay.”
“Will you be going?” asked Stasya.
“Certainly not,” said Pallavi. “You couldn’t drag me there with a herd of war elephants. I’ve served my time at that dreadful place. Never again.” She smiled at Caedmon and said, “No offense, of course.”
***
STASYA KNEW SHE DIDN’T want to travel with Ellard. Even if she had enjoyed her time at Diernemynster, which she hadn’t, she would not have wanted to go there in the company of that man. She would never be able to see him without remembering her feeling of powerlessness. She would always wonder what he had been about to do to her mind. And no matter how repentant he might look at the moment, she would never be sure that he wouldn’t do it again, if he had the chance.
The fact that she had permitted him to do what he had done when they had been alone now filled her with loathing. What made her feel even worse, though, was the fact that she had known something was wrong, and hadn’t said anything about it. Why had she been unable to tell Caedmon about the strange gaps in her memory? Why hadn’t she told Pallavi? Pallavi had joked about joining Ellard for his bath at the river, and Stasya had found the idea strangely repulsive, so why hadn’t she taken the opportunity to say something to Pallavi about it?
Oddly, Stasya felt as if she were partly culpable in what had happened to her. She had been Ellard’s victim, to be sure, but she also felt as if she had been his co-conspirator as well. She had helped him keep his secrets, and not because of any spell he had placed on her, simply because she hadn’t wanted to tell.
So what could she do now? Seeing that she was undecided, Caedmon made a remarkable offer. He pointed out that, since Ellard would be undergoing some sort of penance at Diernemynster, and in view of the fact that Ellard was nearly done with his training, anyway, he (Caedmon) now had time to devote to a newer, younger student. “For propriety’s sake, of course, we would find you a suitable lady hillichmagnar as a companion,” he said gruffly. “But I feel as if I owe you lessons, in order to make up for what has happened. I have another student, your same age, named Ranulf Wimund. You could study together.”
Stasya said that she needed a minute or two to think about it. Pallavi said, “For what it’s worth, Caedmon is a very good teacher.”
Perhaps that was true, in an abstract sense. Perhaps Caedmon could explain difficult spells better than anyone. Or maybe he could teach the forms of Wiga better. But, as Evika had occasionally said, there was more to being a Lareowess, or a Lareow, than simply passing on the accumulated knowledge of hillichmagnars long dead. A magy teacher was responsible for the moral development of his or her pupil. And in that respect, Caedmon had failed miserably. He might be brilliant and renowned, and people might still be singing songs about him in Loshadnarod. And for all Stasya knew, he might have been a good and wise adviser to the kings and queens of Myrcia. But he had been a terrible teacher for Ellard.
Stasya couldn’t be sure exactly what had gone wrong in Ellard’s mind. She had only known him a few weeks, and she could not pretend to guess what he had been like when he had first met Caedmon. But even if Caedmon hadn’t actively harmed Ellard’s mind, he certainly hadn’t done anything to help.
The source of Ellard’s problems wasn’t just his own, titanic, cancerous sense of self-importance. It was Caedmon’s own self-destructive pride in his ability to teach Ellard. It was Caedmon’s pride in his status as the Lareow of the new Machtigmagnar. Caedmon had forced himself to believe that Ellard was perfect and special, in spite of the evidence of his own eyes, because if Ellard had a special destiny, then so did he. Stasya couldn’t really blame Caedmon for this. After all, she had known Ellard for only a tiny fraction of the time Caedmon had, and she had been flattered by his attention, too. But even if she understood what had happened, that didn’t make her want Caedmon for her teacher.
She turned to Pallavi. “What about you? Would you consider taking a student?”
“I hadn’t given it any thought, but I won’t be going to Diernemynster, remember. You can’t go with me and Caedmon, both.”
“Then I want to go with you,” Stasya declared. “If you would like to teach me, that is.” Pallavi had infuriated and pestered her, but the woman was a highly-skilled hillichmagnar. More than that, there was a kind of rough practicality to her. And Stasya was honest enough with herself to know that honesty was what she needed in a teacher. She did not need someone who would flatter her.
Pallavi hugged her and said, “I do suppose that I’ve grown accustomed to having you around. Very well, my dear girl. But you do realize this means your training won’t be sanctioned by Diernemynster, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure that makes much difference to me anymore,” sighed Stasya.
She had a momentary pang of regret when she saw how disappointed Caedmon was. But he shook her hand and told her he hoped she would reconsider and come to Diernemynster someday. Then, turning his back on her, he summoned a pair of owls from the nearby forest and sent them to Astrid with the news that he and Ellard were returning.
Calleigh and Garnett showed up a few minutes later, leading four horses. Calleigh had also found Pallavi and Stasya three entire changes of clothes apiece, which seemed almost decadent after being forced to wear the same pair of filthy old riding trousers day after day after day. Stasya ran behind the memorial and changed into a close-fitting green riding dress, which made her feel at least a little better.
Then there were goodbyes all around, and Stasya even found it in her heart to shake Ellard’s hand. It was easier now that she wasn’t going to have to see him again.
When they were all mounted up, Alwin Garnett said to Caedmon, “Are you sure you won’t stay? I have a feeling that if you continued to camp here for another week or two, his majesty would eventually reward your persistence with an audience.”
“No, indeed,” said Caedmon, looking at his student. “I have other, more urgent tasks now.” Then he rode off, and Ellard followed him.
“Will he be safe, do you think?” Calleigh asked Stasya and Pallavi.
“He was smart to send those birds ahead of them,” said Pallavi. “Astrid will be watching for their return now, and if Caedmon turns up dead, Ellard will have all of Diernemynster after him. Ellard isn’t stupid enough to run that risk; he knows that’s how Kuhlbert got killed.”
Stasya agreed, but when she thought of it later, she remained unsure. She didn’t think the wrath of Diernemynster scared Ellard very much at all. He thought he was Earstien’s chosen on earth. He thought his every desire reflected the will of the creator himself. If every hillichmagnar at Diernemynster had come down from the mountains to fight him, Ellard would still have been confident that he would win. Whether or not he would be justified in that belief, Stasya could not say. But in any case, Ellard would believe it.
At the same time, however, Stasya was sure that Ellard would not attack Caedmon on the journey back. She had a feeling—and it was really nothing more—that Ellard actually wanted to go to Diernemynster. She could not have said why, and she did not wish to spend any more time than necessary pondering the strange, warped mind of Ellard Koehler. But it seemed to her that Ellard had surrendered to Caedmon, not because he was scared, or because he had suddenly repented, but rather because he had devised a new plan. Or perhaps he had always had a backup plan. In either case, Stasya did not feel as if Ellard was going to Diernemynster unwillingly. And, while it made her feel better to think that Caedmon was in no immediate danger, she was frightened by the thought that Ellard was still scheming and plotting.
Finding a way across the Trahern again with their horses and new luggage took Stasya and Pallavi the better part of a day. Eventually they found a disused ferry, however, and once they had pulled themselves across, Pallavi sent the boat back with magy. They had no idea if the ferryman was alive or dead, but they saw no reason not to put things back where they had found them.
That night, as they boiled crayfish they had found in a little stream for supper, Pallavi said, “I am very glad you are here.”
“And I am glad I’m here, too,” Stasya assured her.
“I think you are well rid of that Ellard fellow, my dear girl.”
Stasya couldn’t help laughing at that. “But you practically pushed me into bed with him. Don’t forget how you wanted me to go spy on him taking a bath.”
“Well, neither of us knew how he would turn out, so I don’t think we can consider ourselves responsible for that.” Pallavi paused to taste the broth and add spices. Then she went on. “Of course, you still can’t deny that he is very good-looking young man. So you can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
Stasya remembered the day in the archive, and the illusion of the tropical pool. Her face burned and her throat tightened. Suddenly feeling as if she had to confess to someone what she had done, she told Pallavi about the encounters. “I was so stupid,” she sighed, wiping her eyes. “I should have seen what he was doing.”
“Oh, my dear, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Pallavi, reaching over and patting her knee.
“But I am,” moaned Stasya. “I’m terribly ashamed of what I did. And frankly, I think I should be.”
Pallavi smiled. “Well, if you insist. But when it comes right down to it, there are worse things in life than a little shame.”