Hands of Fate lived, then stopped abruptly.
‘You met them at the village?’
‘Gods, Dashain really did beat the sense out of you, didn’t she? That’s what I said.’
‘I’m tired, is all,’ Carel growled. He caught his breath, then asked, ‘So how’d he look?’
‘Isak?’ Ardela’s lips tightened. ‘Tsatach’s balls, Carel, he’s a sight. You’d best prepare yourself.’
‘How?’ he demanded, then shook his head. ‘Sorry, not meaning to be angry with you.’ They set off again and he asked, ‘So how do I prepare myself for seeing him? I know his body’s a mess, that he’s less pretty than me these days — but that’s not what scares me. I got used to that snow-white arm of his, and I stopped noticing much else about him — it was like Lord Bahl: you didn’t see the face so much as the presence.’
‘Well, he’s balanced out the arm, for a start,’ Ardela muttered. ‘His right’s as black as a charred log now.’ She couldn’t keep the tinge of horror from her voice. ‘I didn’t hear why, but that dog o’ his was keeping well away from that side of him.’
Despite everything, Carel smiled. ‘Little bugger always did want a dog,’ he said sadly. ‘His father never let him, though; I’ll bet Horman was scared it’d go for him when he smacked Isak about.’
‘Looking at the size of Hulf the man might’ve had a point.’
The veteran didn’t speak again until they reached the compound and came face to face with Legana — and found words failed him. Carel had always been told that she was as beautiful as she was savage, and he’d still been expecting someone a little like Dashain or Ardela. But Legana the Mortal-Aspect was neither: her beauty was far from the knowing elegance of Dashain or Ardela’s lithe athleticism. Legana was divinely exquisite; not merely enticing but heart-stopping, with a glamour that surpassed physical attraction. From beneath a shawl that shaded her face, Legana’s emerald eyes shone, and the strange image of a beautiful young woman resting on a walking stick served only to enhance her arresting presence somehow.
— Carel? Legana scribbled on the piece of slate hanging from her neck.
‘I- Aye, that’s me.’ He found himself ducking his head to her.
— Your hand?
He showed her his palm. ‘I didn’t give ’em much of a choice,’ he said, feeling the need to explain himself in the face of Legana’s unblinking scrutiny.
The Mortal-Aspect cocked her head at Ardela, who had come to stand between them. She touched a finger to the former devotee’s arm and nodded.
‘Legana says the choice is hers. The tattoos are nothing alone.’
‘I know that, but I had to hope I could persuade you.’
‘Then do so,’ Ardela repeated, her face tight with conflicted emotion. ‘You’re not Brotherhood, nor serving Ghost who’ll need every edge behind enemy lines. After the ritual on Tairen Moor, she’d not planned on sharing the power with anyone but those sisters who accompany her.’
‘Call me a sister if you like,’ Carel said dismissively. ‘My link to Isak got severed by something that witch did — now, I ain’t blaming her, but the boy’s pretty much all I got in this life. I want that connection back, and I want to be at his side, come whatever may.’
‘He does not remember you,’ Ardela continued as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘and meeting you might cause him more hurt — you’re not the only one he’s forgotten, but you’re the most important. Seeing you might only make things worse.’
Carel said angrily, ‘If it got cut from his mind, he remembers nothing, but we were like family once and he learned to trust me. I ain’t going to abandon the boy. There’s no man nor woman alive knows him as well as me. I’ll be there to clip his ear ’til the day I die.’
His shoulders sagged. ‘All I’m asking for is for him to feel something when he sees me again. I know he won’t know me, I ain’t kidding myself about that, but this link you’ve got might make me something less than a stranger and you know I’d die for him before any o’ your sisters.’
Legana was perfectly still as she observed Carel, who lowered his own gaze, unable to bear the weight of her scrutiny; he could feel it as the warmth of a fire on his cheeks. The moment stretched out: half-a-dozen heartbeats, a dozen, and Carel felt helplessness wash over him. He looked up, preparing to say something he knew he’d regret, when Legana moved with blinding speed: he caught the glint of a knife, his shirt was slashed open and she slammed her palm against his sternum with enough force that he should have been knocked from his feet.
Carel rocked backwards, but he was anchored by a sudden surge of magic that wrapped tendrils of fire around his ribcage. Black stars burst before his eyes as the energies raced out over his body and sparks crackled from his fingertips. The hand on his chest became searing hot. Distantly he heard himself cry out in pain and smelled the sizzle and stink of burning flesh. He watched dark shapes writhe over his raised hand, frozen in the act of reaching for Legana’s, the inked skin of his palm reshaped by her magic. Dancing faster than he could follow, black worms of magic slipped down his arm, leaving behind a wet-looking trail of thinner rowan leaves twisted around the original ragged hazel. On his palm the magic writhed in a tight circle until suddenly all that was left behind were the circles and owl’s head tattoo, now alive and bright with magic.
Carel sagged as the energies flowing through him broke off, unable to bear his own weight. Without Ardela slipping her arm around him, he’d have dropped to his knees. For a while all he could do was pant like an exhausted dog.
‘ It is done,’ said Legana’s voice in his mind. ‘ You are one of us, bound to us. ’
‘Thank you,’ Carel gasped.
‘ It is not a gift. There will be a price, ’ she warned.
‘I understand,’ he whispered. ‘I’m here to help Isak in whatever way I can.’
‘ Even if that is by leaving his side and never returning.’
Carel found the strength to stand again. Gods, maybe Commander Jachen was right: she’s a pitiless bitch to the end.
‘I told you,’ he repeated angrily, ‘I’m here for Isak. If he needs me to go, I’ll go.’
At last she smiled at him. ‘ Then I’ll call you brother,’ she said, ‘ or perhaps sister, since you were so insistent about that. ’
Carel was too drained even to smile. He nodded vaguely. ‘My thanks,’ he managed. ‘Time to go and see what Isak thinks now.’ He wobbled a moment before righting himself, waving off Ardela’s assistance and heading back towards the gate.
Legana put her hand on Ardela’s arm and squeezed it. ‘ Go with him. He might need a friend. There are still some novices who require the ritual; our reunion would have had to wait, even without Marshal Carelfolden’s urgent need.’
Ardela caught up with Carel just outside the gate. ‘Easy there,’ she told him. ‘Take a moment, Carel.’
‘Wait?’ he demanded.
She planted herself in front of him. ‘Yes, wait — and breathe, will you? You look about ready to pitch on your face.’
‘I can catch my breath on the way,’ he huffed, but when he tried to push past her, Ardela easily held him back.
‘Do it for me, then,’ she said. She pointed to his tattooed palm. ‘That might be just be a means to an end for you, but it’s more than that to the rest of us. Take a moment and really look at what she’s done. You’re linked to us for ever, but you’ve not even bloody looked at the scar on your chest!’
Carel scowled. ‘Seen it before,’ he mumbled, but he stopped and lifted his shirt to see the raised scar. The shape was familiar enough, a circle bearing the heart rune, just as Isak and Mihn had borne. ‘Strange though,’ he murmured, ‘I barely knew Xeliath, and now her name’s on my chest.’
‘I never even met the girl,’ Ardela said with surprising gentleness, ‘but Legana still told me to think of her once the ritual was done.’ She touched her fingers to the stump of his left arm and moved the pinned-up sleeve covering it. Underneath, though distorted by the uneven scar tissue, was another tattoo, still identifiable as the concentric circles on Carel’s palm despite looking as though viewed through a sheet of ice. Ardela didn’t appear surprised at the sight, but Carel gaped, for the priestess hadn’t put a tattoo on his hand-less arm.
‘The magic is all about balance,’ she explained, seeing his face. ‘These tattoos are what we are now. The course of the rest of our lives is mapped out in these lines, whether they’re but few short days or decades from now. There’s a purpose to the link between us all. It might be you’re destined for different things, but it’s all I’m likely to have, so don’t go treating it lightly, hear me?’
