Two-Edged Blade

“I hadn’t finished. They retain their skills—but they’ve forgotten everything about their old life. Everything; it happened to someone I was watching as a possible contact. She had a Gift of Mindspeech, one that was just developing. When I next saw her, she didn’t recognize anyone she had known before. Her mind was a complete blank—and her devotion to the Sunlord was total.” He nodded as she felt the blood drain from her face.

“You mean—everybody with these ‘Gifts’ winds up in the priesthood—and someone in the priesthood strips their minds?” The idea was horrible, more horrifying than rape and torture, somehow. Rape and torture still left you with your own mind, your own thoughts.

“Someone in the priesthood wipes their minds clean. Everything that made them what they are is gone. I’ve been able to trigger old memories in someone suffering from forgetfulness after a head injury—” (She filed that away for future reference.) “—but I have never been able to do so in one of the priestesses.” He sighed. “Some would say that they are still better off that way than dead, but I don’t know.”

She shivered uncontrollably. “I’d rather be dead.”

He put his arms around her to still the shudders. “Now I’ve told you something that’s sure to make you have nightmares,” he said apologetically. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

She snuggled closer in a lightning change of mood, heat in her groin kindled by the warmth of his arms around her, and the feel of his strong body against hers. “You can do something to make me forget,” she pointed out, and nibbled delicately on his earlobe.

“So I can,” he laughed.

And proceeded to do just that.

* * *

Today there were hunters out there, though none were near the cave, and neither of them wanted to risk going out. Quite a few hunters were prowling the hills, in fact—and at least a half-dozen priests. The escaped Herald and his rescuer, it seemed, were very much sought after.

Ratha was the one who warned Eldan about the priests, fortunately before the Herald tried any Thoughtsensing. With that in mind, he pinpointed the enemy and identified the priests through the eyes of the animals about them. He would have liked very much to touch the minds of their horses, so that he could overhear what they were saying to each other, but both of them felt that particular idea was far too risky.

“Maybe if you’re ever in a trap you can’t break out of,” she said. “In fact, I’ll tell you what I’d have done if I’d been in your shoes with your Gift back when they had you. I’d have waited until they were sure I was helpless, and then I’d have spooked their horses. Run a couple of them through the fire to scatter it, and they wouldn’t have been able to see you getting away. Then I would have hidden real close to the camp until I saw a good chance to get the hell out of there. Like I told you, they don’t expect a prisoner to stick around.”

Eldan looked at her with considerable respect. “There are times I wish I could convince you to come back with me, and this is one of them. I’d love to put you in charge of a class at the Collegium.”

She shuddered. “Thank you, no. I’d rather face a siege.”

There were other, more disturbing, searchers. Twice, Kero “felt” those searching “eyes” she’d sensed before—this time they were angry, and she could feel the heat of their rage preceding and following them. The first time, she was watching at the entrance to the cave and didn’t get a chance to see if Eldan felt them, too. But the second time was just after dark, when they were both lounging beside the barest coal of a fire, not wanting to risk a light being seen, and she instinctively flattened herself against the stone floor of the cave, blood turning to ice- water in her veins.

She looked over at a whisper of sound, and saw that Eldan had done the same thing.

“What is that?” she hissed, as if speaking aloud would bring the thing back.

“You felt it, too?” He also seemed impelled to whisper his words. “I don’t know what it is. It isn’t any kind of Thoughtsensing I’ve ever run up against before. It doesn’t seem exactly like Thoughtsensing. It’s like—” he groped for a description “—like there’s actually some thing moving half in our world, and half in another, and the reason we can feel it is because it happens to be leaking its thoughts. Like it isn’t shielded.”

She considered that for a moment. “And demons walk at night,” she said.

He stared at her. “Demons are only in stories!” he exclaimed indignantly, as if he thought she was trying to make a fool out of him. Then he faltered, as she continued to watch him soberly. “Aren’t they?”

“Not in my grandmother’s experience,” she said, sitting up slowly, “Though I can’t vouch for having seen one myself. But consider how some of the people who vanish at night do so out of their own houses, with no one else in the family aware that they’re gone until the next day.”