There was an eerie emptiness to the corridors. Or perhaps the eerie was just in her head. Few people were about at this hour. Lillian knew, however, that if she turned down that hallway, made a left, and went up two flights she would encounter people. She didn't want to encounter them, though, didn't particularly like associating with them even by the light of day. Maybe that was why the empty halls seemed eerie – because she knew the type of people who frequented these halls.
Empty was good. Empty meant no one to notice her passage, or the passage of the two who discreetly followed some distance behind her. Empty meant no curious eyes or raised suspicions.
This was not the first time she had walked these halls at such an hour, nor was it likely to be the last. A mark after midnight was not a common time to walk the halls, but it was a convenient time for those who do not wish to attract attention. Of course, that meant if anyone did notice, it would attract attention. Even still, those who might be about would not be inclined to make a scene.
Thankfully, though, Lillian did not encounter anything more dangerous than a cat. It was with great relief that she met up with Malachi and Anna outside Sunhame.
"Any problems?" she asked.
"None," Mal replied. "You gave us excellent directions."
"And Darvin?"
"On his way."
"Good." Was it good? Lillian squashed the thought. Yes, yes it was good. They couldn't stay here, no matter how much she might want them to.
They stood on the edge of a cluster of pine trees where an observer would have a difficult time locating them. They waited in an awkward silence. None of the three felt comfortable breaking the tense, pensive silence. Lillian had long practice in standing silent and still, but Anna had not. The girl shifted nervously from one leg to another, grinding the fallen needles beneath her feet. Pine was a more pleasant scent than some of the incense Lillian had been exposed to.
Malachi suddenly looked alert, turning to face the northeast. Anna and Lillian turned as well. A white shape wound its way through the trees. Lillian found herself more than a little mesmerized by the approach of the ghostly horse. Intrigued and curious, Lillian slipped into other-sight.
The Companion glowed. Blue and ethereal, the Companion was like nothing Lillian had ever seen before – and was as from the night-walkers as it was possible to be. Transfixed, Lillian gasped in recognition. That was not an earthly creature. Ethereal was right. It was a Guardian Spirit. Companions were Guardian Spirits. The Sunpriests had their people convinced that Guardian Spirits were demons. Oh, Sunlord. How could anyone be so blind as to actually believe that? Anyone who just saw them – they had to know –
Oh, I was right. They are like Firecats. I was right to trust him. I was right to trust my instincts, to believe they could not be as the Sunpriests portrayed them. I was right to trust Anna into their keeping. Oh, Vkandis, thank you. There is hope again. I have hope.
The radiant creature stopped in front of her. The blue aura shone; to her Mage-sight its power shone through the skin. Lillian stared in awe as the Spirit lowered its head and she met its deep sapphire gaze.
:I am sorry,: a male voice said, the words overlain with feelings of guilt and remorse. It reached for her mind and –
Lillian blinked. A white horse stood before her.
Malachi stepped forward. "Lillian, Anna, this is Darvin," he said, laying a hand on the Companion's neck.
"He's beautiful," Lillian replied in awe. She didn't need her Sight to know this was no demon. More than a horse, yes, but he could not remotely be a demon. She knew this with a certainty that surprised her. "May I?" she asked, reaching out a hand. The not-horse bobbed his head in acknowledgement and Lillian patted his neck.
Anna looked at the Companion with trepidation. Lillian reached a hand out to her niece, who took it hesitantly. Lillian drew the girl slowly toward the Companion. Darvin lowered his head and lipped the girl's sleeve. Anna raised a tentative hand. Darvin bumped it with his nose.
Lillian stifled a laugh as the Companion connived to get a scratch from a girl quickly losing her fear. Darvin whickered and Anna let out a giggle.
"He's not so scary," Anna remarked.
Malachi chuckled. "There are some brigands who probably wouldn't agree." He paused to consider for a moment. "And I know a couple of gardeners who will swear the Companions terrorize the Palace gardens." Darvin snorted and shook his head vigorously. Anna giggled again.
Darvin stomped a foreleg and Malachi turned serious again. "We have a lot of distance to cover, and we're going to have to travel under cover." He took a long breath before continuing. "It won't be quick, so I think we had better be going."
Anna's face dropped. She turned and threw her arms around Lillian. "You really can't come with us?" she asked, looking up at her aunt.
Lillian shook her head, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I have to stay here. Someone has to look out for the people here." She met Malachi's eyes. "I – I will miss you. Be careful." Darvin swished his tail. She bent down to give Anna a strong hug.
Standing up, she saw Malachi with a bunch of long, fine, white strands in his hands, braiding them. He made quick work of them and presented Lillian with a bracelet. "It was Darvin's idea," he admitted as she accepted it. It was made of horsehair. Companion-hair. Lillian couldn't speak.
"Thank you," she managed. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, an idea struck her. "It might be easier to travel through Karse without a white horse."
Malachi chuckled. "That it would be, but it is considerably quicker than travelling by foot. Darvin is also a bit faster than ordinary horses."
"What if Darvin wasn't white?"
"Dye has been tried. It doesn't work; it bleaches out too quickly," Malachi said, shaking his head.
"Not dye," Lillian suggested. "M-magic." The word stuck in her throat, but she pushed it out. "Illusion," she continued. "I can make Darvin look a different color, temporarily." At least I think I can. There was a nagging doubt that the Companion was beyond her. A Valdemaran Firecat. Would I attempt an illusion on a Firecat?
"You can do that?" Malachi asked slowly.
"Yes," Lillian replied, more confidently that she felt. Did she have the range to get the illusion to the border? To hold it long enough for them to get there? She glanced over at the Companion and met Darvin's blue eyes. He nodded. Okay then.
"It would be easier without a big white horse in Karse," Malachi agreed. "Darvin thinks it is a good idea. Do it."
Illusions were easy. Constructing the illusion was no problem. Getting it to settle on the Companion was another story. The Companion's residual magic was . . . unusual. It resisted her, pulsing blue . . . swirling blue . . . as blue as his eyes . . . the sapphire eyes . . .
Something reached out, brushing against her mind and taking hold of the illusion.
Lillian gasped and opened her eyes, not sure when she had closed them. Malachi stood beside a dark brown horse with three white socks and a stripe on his nose that crossed his left ear. Darvin shook himself vigorously and Malachi stared at him with a look of confusion on his face.
"Can all Sunpriests do that?" Kai asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.
"Not all have the Gift for it, but those who do are limited by range, same as any Gift. I don't really know if I can hold that to the border," she admitted.
But Malachi shook his head. "Darvin says he can bolster whatever it is you've done. And he can make it go away when we get there. Good to know Companions can hold their own against the Sunpriests' abilities," he said with a smile. If his eyes were slightly confused and out of focus as he conversed with his Companion, Lillian didn't notice as she tried to clear her own head.
That should not have happened. But it had. And whatever it was, it certainly seemed to have worked. That's what I get for trying to illusion a Valdemaran Firecat. When had she started thinking of Companions as Valdemaran Firecats? She shrugged it off; probably while trying to convince Anna of that comparison to ease her fears.
At least that had worked. Anna wasn't afraid of Darvin; she had even lost that hint of fear at the prospect of going to Valdemar. The so-called "Hell-Horses" had lost their ability to terrify the girl into submission. Good. Anna had relaxed, and that put Lillian at ease. She wanted her niece to be happy, she wanted her niece to be safe. Malachi and Valdemar could make that happen. She knew it, she felt it, with an absolute certainty that startled her. She didn't understand her strong conviction, but she trusted it, she trusted Vkandis.
"I . . . uh, I guess we should be on our way," Malachi said awkwardly.
Lillian gave a stiff nod.
Anna turned to her. "You really can't come with us?" she asked again.
Lillian shook her head sadly. She was not going to cry. "Someone has to stay and help the people here. There's no one else to do it."
Anna nodded, once. Then she ran up to wrap her arms around her aunt. "Be safe," she said with a solemnity beyond her years. "Thank you for everything."
Anna released her, to be replaced by Malachi. Mal brushed the tears from her cheeks. "What she said," he told her. Then he kissed her, and Lillian found herself clinging to him, not wanting to let go, though she knew she had to.
"I will miss you," he said finally.
Lillian nodded. "Very much," she agreed in a shaky voice.
Darvin stomped his foreleg. A rueful expression crossed Mal's face.
"I know," he said. "We have to go."
Lillian nodded again. "Be safe," she said as Mal swung himself onto Darvin's back. She helped Anna up behind him.
"I love you, Aunt Lillian."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Be safe, and be happy."
"You too, Aunt Lillian."
Lillian managed a smile. She stroked Darvin's nose. The Companion flicked an ear towards her. "Keep them safe. Please."
Darvin nodded.
"Go," Lillian said. "Go fast, but be safe. You have a long way to go, and it is not safe for you here. Ride for the Border, and don't look back."
Darvin nodded again and began to walk. He picked up the pace and settled into a ground-eating gallop that normal horses could not sustain past a few minutes at most. Lillian stood watching the trio race northward. Darvin didn't look back. But Anna did, and so did Malachi.
They merged into the shadows of the night, a brown horse with a black mane, a Black-robed man, and a brown clothed girl. Lillian kept watching until she could no longer imagine the shadows along their path moving. The night was empty, but for wildlife. As if on cue, an owl called out.
Lillian turned and began the walk back to the Temple. It was quiet, this late. Nobody bothered a Black Robe, not even the guards. The few people out this late took pains to keep out of her way. The cat in the Temple Gardens, however, didn't particularly care the rank of the person who was in its path. The tabby scowled at her when she almost tripped over it.
Lillian stroked the back of his head and the cat settled down. "Little fur-ball," she scolded endearingly. "You almost trip me, and then I feel bad that I almost stepped on you. You little fishbone, you." She recognized the cat. It was a friendly creature she had seen around the Temple – and had deliberately not seen in the Children's Cloister. (It was amazing how often things "got into" her eyes.) The children definitely did not call him Reulan.
Lillian picked him up and kissed the top of his head. "Come on, Reulan. I have some leftover fish from dinner."
The tabby looked up at her with his deep blue eyes and purred.
Lillian released Reulan upon reaching her room. As the tabby slipped from her arms, her composure slipped as well.
She had held out until the door closed behind her, but only just. That she kept her composure by only the slimmest of margins showed her just how fragile her walls could be.
It shouldn't – hurt – this much. They're safe, both of them. I should be happy. And instead all I can think of is that they're gone – and I'm alone. Again.
She heard the lock snap and let herself slump against the door. She was grateful for all the work and energy she'd put into her shields – it meant that even if someone was standing right outside the door they wouldn't hear her crying.
She'd cried more this past month than she had in years. And the last time she had let someone see her cry had been well over a decade ago. It would probably be another decade before it happened again.
There was nothing of this past month that Lillian would change for the world. It was uncontestably the best month of her life since coming to the Sun Temple. She didn't remember her life before that too clearly; she had only been six after all.
She never gave herself a chance to open up to anyone – it was too dangerous. The children she saved from Cleansing saw a side of her no one else ever could, but it was too dangerous for them to stay more than a day or two after their "death."
Malachi – he couldn't leave. The best she could do for broken bones was immobilize them. She had a sizeable "reach" for her abilities, but it was nowhere near far enough to have gotten him into Valdemar. Illusions were simpler than her magical splints, and less risky to maintain over distances. Even illusions cast to disguise a white "horse" in a land where white was considered a color strongly associated with demons. Darvin's ambient energies had initially resisted her casting, but she got the sense he was bolstering her illusion. Valdemaran Firecat, indeed. How Darvin had managed to take hold of her illusion she wasn't sure, but whatever Companions were, they were powerful.
And illusions were easy.
Resignedly, Lillian pulled herself to her feet and walked over to her hanging mirror. She was too tired to reflect on the extravagant expense of it as she usually did, too bone-weary tired. Her reflection didn't look tired, but then she was very practiced at not showing weakness. Even when she was alone. It was truly remarkable she had let Malachi in as much as she had.
But she hadn't shown him everything. Some things were just too ingrained. Some things she had maintained for so long she no longer thought about them.
Lillian stared at her reflection in the mirror. A hawk-eyed, grey-eyed woman stared back. She unbraided her hair and ran her fingers through the long dark brown strands, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders. She glanced at the white bracelet on her wrist. She had told Malachi in the beginning, part of what she did was illusion. She just had not informed him just how much a part they were. Illusions were so simple. With a tired sigh she dropped hers.
She studied at the woman in the mirror. The last time she had released her illusion had been over a year ago, when she had received her Black Robes. She had not seen herself as she truly appeared in all that time. She had not changed much in that time, however. There was only one thing different about her appearance without the illusion. She fingered her hair. It was as white as her Companion-hair bracelet.
She knew working with the energies of the nodes bleached color from a mage. She had trained herself to have a feather-light touch, so although she tapped into the nodes often, her workings did not attract attention. In fact, she usually tapped a node several times in short durations to reduce the ripples she left behind.
She had been born with grey eyes, so the nodes had little noticeable effect on them. Her hair on the other hand –
She had to admit, the woman in the mirror was striking. Sharp features, black robes, grey eyes, white hair. She looked like an artist's rendition of a woman of light and shadow. In the pale blue glow of her mage-lights her skin appeared colorless. She looked colorless, a portrait in grey-scale.
The last time she had dropped her illusion was when she had received the Black Robes. That had been when she first noticed there wasn't a single brown hair left on her head. All the color had been bleached from her. The time before then had been when she had gotten the Red Robes. At that time, about half of her roots had still been brown, if a lighter shade of brown than originally.
Only a few of the older Black- and Red-robes exhibited completely white hair, and that could be as much from aging as it was from magic-induced bleaching. Of course some of the others could be glamouring their appearance like she was.
Twenty four was overly young to have full bleach-out. Then again, twenty four was also young to have earned the Black Robes. Both had occurred over a year ago. She had noticed her first white roots growing in around the time she had gotten her web working. She had used the nodes a considerable amount then, but she hadn't expected to start losing color so quickly. It seemed that once it started, the bleaching had progressed faster and faster. Now her hair was as white as Darvin.
She found she liked that thought.
Oh Sunlord, how much she missed Malachi and Anna, and they had only just left! She wouldn't mind a few more reminders of them. She couldn't let herself forget that somewhere life was better, somewhere they were safe. Somewhere there was someone who cared about her, who saw more than the black taint of the Black Robes.
She blinked rapidly. She couldn't cry. They were gone and life had to return to its standard rhythms. She needed to compose herself, completely, as she had repeatedly over the years. Fragile walls would not withstand the rigors of her life – and those walls were her life.
She looked at her bracelet again. As much as she loved it, it was a dangerous token. She stroked the white hairs again, before reluctantly pulling one out of the neat braid. She tangled the loose Companion-hair in the fringe of the Flamedancer tapestry. She doubted either Porphyr or the equally long dead artisan would mind. With a grimace, Lillian buried the remainder of the bracelet in the soil of the potted plant on her desk.
No one would know the significance of the plants she kept, the firestone in memory of the victims of the Cleansings and the kitten-paw in memory of the Herald of Valdemar she befriended. Kitten-paw was a "peasant" flower; it was as common as dirt and would grow anywhere. It was also an effective remedy for headaches, which was why she kept some.
Lillian watered both plants, lingering over the kitten-paw. "Be safe," she whispered.
Reulan meowed.
"Alright, alright. I did promise you dinner, didn't I?"