Gail Martin - The summoner

"I know," Tris replied. "Believe me, I know."

The weather turned colder, with a gray, overcast sky that bode darkly for the days ahead. Tris moved up to ride his turn at point, leaving Carroway and Carina to talk as they rode about the legend of the Library and what a healer might find useful there.

Tris tried to shake free of the brooding mood that settled on him with the coming of the autumn weather. He thought through the timeline Carroway put into words. No matter how

he worked it-and even without the unanticipated detour to the Library-it left precious little time.

I can't face Arontala the way I called the spirits in the forest, he thought. Arontala is vayash moru-only the Lady knows how long he's been a mage. Between what little grandmother taught me and what I have time to learn, how can I hope to defeat a mage like that?

Yet his grandmother's spirit had told him of lessons that would come back to him when the time was right. He could not imagine the time being more right than this, but although he tried to recall any forgotten lessons, both awake and in a trance, nothing beyond the most basic workings came to mind. How can I ask an army to follow me when a fool can see I haven't got a chance? He had more questions than answers, and as the clouds darkened and the day wore on, he found his mood grow bleaker until they reached a protected, level place, and set up camp for the night.

They camped by the side of the road near a dilapidated well, and that night, they kept close to the fire, watchful for enemies both human and magic. The snow stopped but the wind was bitter, and the ground beneath them was already frozen. The innkeeper sent with them generous provisions of crusty bread, dried and salted meats, wedges of cheese and wineskins-more than enough to keep them going for several days.

"So where is this Library, anyway?" Vahanian asked, poking at the coals of the fire with the toe of his boot.

Tris leaned forward, looking into the glowing embers. "I'm not quite sure. The legend says it's upstream on the Nu, where the waters cry."

"Cry, huh?" Vahanian said skeptically. "Great. Nice directions. Anything else helpful?"

"If the Library is near the river, then traveling upstream should bring us there eventually." Carina said.

"Well, now that we've got that taken care of, I'm going to get some sleep," Vahanian said, standing stiffly. "Wake me when it's time for my watch."

Tris found his dreams were far from peaceful. The ghostly faces from the forest howled around him, draining his life and defying his control. Then, amid their keening, he could hear Kait's voice, distant and plaintive. Tris, help me! Again he glimpsed her face, pressed against a transparent barrier, her eyes frightened and desperate, one hand outstretched. He lunged for her, but as his fingers were about to touch hers, the image receded, her voice growing fainter and fainter as the memory of the forest ghosts closed in around him again, only to be replaced by Kait's falcons, screeching in anger and flying at him from all quarters, their talons open and their sharp beaks hungry for the kill. He fended them off but they kept coming, their wings stirring a storm around him, ripping into his skin with their claws.

Tris woke, shuddering, to find himself sitting bolt upright, his blankets fallen away. He caught his breath raggedly and closed his eyes, but the dreams were gone.

Milord, a word with you, if you please? a voice said as a sudden cold surrounded him, and it took Tris an instant to realize that he heard the words only in his mind. He opened his eyes to find the spirit of a young woman standing in front of him. She looked to be in her late teens, a beautiful girl with long, dark hair and a slim frame. Tris was unsure whether the sadness in her eyes or her extreme deference to him troubled him more, and exhausted as he felt, he was moved with pity. A glance around reassured him that he had indeed awakened, for Vahanian sat his watch, oblivious to Tris's ghostly visitor.

What is troubling you? he asked silently.

You are a Summoner, the ghost said, and Tris nodded. The spirit smiled and clapped her hands. Then this is the day I have waited for! Please, milord, hear my story. I was betrothed to a young man from the next village, but my father would not allow us to marry. One night, we agreed to run away, and so I stole the dowry and slipped out to meet my lover here at the well. The spirit's face grew troubled, and Tris saw anger in her eyes beneath the sadness. When my lover came, he had been drinking, and he was angry that the dowry was so little. We quarreled, and he knocked me back against the well. I fell, and as I died, I could hear him laughing as he gathered up the dowry, the spirit recounted sorrowfully.

I can bid you peace, and free your soul to find the Lady, Tris offered, moved by her story.

You are a Summoner. Bring me back, the girl insisted, her eyes bright with hope. Let me have my vengeance on the one who killed me arid make peace with my father.

Tris shook his head. I cannot, he replied. It is forbidden to bring the dead back among the living.

Forbidden by whom? the ghost argued, and Tris could see that the brightness in her eyes was not hope but vengeance. You are a Summoner. I can feel your power. It calls to me. Give me my due!

Again, Tris shook his head. The longer the spirit remained in his presence, the more uncomfortable he became. There was a darkness about the girl that chilled him.

Surely this is not too large a thing for such a mage as yourself, the girl begged. I died not two days ago. See, my body lies under the snows just beyond the well. My father is a wealthy man. He will reward you well for returning his only daughter. She looked to him entreatingly. Only last night my mother passed this way, calling for me. I did not have the strength to answer, and so she passed on by. They mourn me, milord. Let me return to my home.

Only the Lady herself may reanimate a corpse, Tris replied. It is forbidden.

The ghost's eyes flared in anger. You are no better than my lover, she said scornfully. I have begged you, pleaded with you, and you turn me away. The darkness that first tinged the specter now limned its outline, and Tris instinctively

called a warding around himself and his friends, driving the ghost back outside the circle.

How dare you! the ghost shrieked in a wail that echoed deafeningly in Tris's mind. I'll show you just like I'll show him! she swore, I'll find my way back, if I have to bargain with the Crone herself!

The image dissipated in front of him into a swirl of mist, but the chill he felt remained, even as he went back over his warding to assure himself that he had done everything possible to guard his friends. Finally, exhaustion overcame him, and he drifted into fitful sleep.

Berry's scream awakened them all a candle-mark later, in the darkness just before sunrise. She was standing at the edge of the warding, pointing.

Staggering to his feet, Tris saw Carina by the well. She stood rigid and still, outside the ward-ings had Tris set. Vahanian lurched to his feet, sword ready, as Carroway scrambled from his post.

"I thought you were on watch," Vahanian grated.

"I was, I swear," Carroway breathed, eyes wide. "There was a noise over there," he pointed in the other direction, "and I went to check it out. There was nothing," he recounted, "and then I turned, and saw Carina at the well. I thought she might have needed a drink, but she moved like she was still asleep, and I was just about to go after her when Berry screamed."

"Something's been out here," Vahanian said, walking around to the other side of the well. He pointed at the body of a young woman, half buried in a drift. On her temple was a dark bruise and around her neck, the marks of a belt or rope. One hand stretched out, claw-like, from the drift, in a final grasping gesture. But it was the corpse's face that held Tris's gaze, for though it was contorted in fear and anger, the dead girl's features were those of the ghost who had sought his help.