Gail Martin - The summoner

"I've got some work with the horses," Vahanian mumbled, and with barely a nod to the others, walked out of the room.

Royster looked after him. "Odd," he mused.

"You know fighters," Tris said, attempting to hide his concern. "I don't know if they ever get comfortable around magic."

"While we're comparing jewelry," Kiara said dryly, "have you ever seen anything like this?" she asked Royster. From a pouch beneath her tunic, she withdrew the spelled pottery chit. Royster held the flat clay circle gently, turning it against the light. Tris leaned forward to get a better look. He could feel the magic in the simple oval, but try as he might, he could not make out the runes stamped on its surface.

Royster motioned to one of the Keepers, a woman in her middle years with short dark hair. The plump scholar hurried over, and exchanged an excited glance with Royster.

"This is Ystra, whose expertise is talismans," Royster said.

"You are indeed favored by the Sisterhood," Ystra said appreciatively. "I've never actually seen one of these, just sketches in books."

"What does it do?" Berry asked, elbowing forward.

"The Sister told me that it could transport people from one place to another," Kiara said, carefully tucking it back into her pouch.

"It will move them magically," Ystra agreed. "Such magic comes at great cost to the mage who sets the spell," he added. "It is not lightly that the Sisters give such a powerful token. Use it only when no other power can suffice. Strong magic has its consequences," she warned.

When the group had dispersed and Tris was certain no one would follow, he headed down to the stables to find Vahanian. He found the mercenary practicing his kicks against a stack of hay bales, jumping and wheeling until he raised steam in the chill night air and sweat soaked through his shirt. Tris stood in silence for a few moments until Vahanian finally paused and leaned against the bales to catch his breath.

"What do you want?" the mercenary said.

"I came to talk."

"I've talked enough for one night."

"What if I could prove to you that Royster is right about the talisman?" Tris said, walking closer.

"How are you going to prove that?"

"Maybe it's time you stopped hanging yourself for something you didn't do." The words hung between them for several moments before Vahanian spoke. "What are you proposing?"

"Let me call Shanna's spirit," Tris said, meeting Vahanian's gaze without flinching. "Royster is right. Your village got caught in a war between two mages. I believe Arontala was the one who destroyed Lustari-that's why he wanted the talisman. Only Lustari struck before Arontala could come for it. You got caught in the middle. But it wasn't your fault." Tris had never seen the look in the mercenary's eyes that transfixed him, and he wondered if any other man lived who saw that anger burning there.

"How sure are you that you can do it?" Vahanian growled.

"I'm sure," Tris replied. "I suspect she's bound here by your guilt. Maybe I can free both of you."

Vahanian swallowed hard, his eyes conflicted. Then he nodded. "Do it if you can," he said quietly. He looked at Tris. "But I swear by the Dark Lady, if this is any kind of trick, I'll rip your heart out."

"No trick, Jonmarc. I swear."

At Vahanian's nod, Tris closed his eyes, and found the center of his magic. Then, he let himself flow out, searching among all of the lost and disquieted souls that roamed the hidden places until one spirit stirred to his call. He opened his eyes to find the ghost standing before him, a young blonde woman who would have been pretty in a common place way, were it not for the sadness in her eyes. One glance at Vahanian confirmed his success, for the mercenary was pale as death and speechless.

"Hello, Jonmarc," the spirit said. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," Vahanian replied in a strangled voice. "Oh Shanna, I'm so sorry!"

The spirit moved a step closer. "You fought bravely, Jonmarc. You were fearless."

"I wanted to die with you."

The spirit shook her head. "The Lady's hand is on you. It was not your time." She glided closer and Vahanian stretched out his hand, palm first. Her image stopped and she did the same, reaching out for him and through him. "What happened was not your fault," Shanna said earnestly. "There was nothing more you could have done."

"I could have given the necklace to you," Vahanian replied, heedless of the tears that streaked down his face. "I could have saved you."

The spirit smiled sadly. "You tried, my love. Now please, let me rest. Let me go." Her image flickered and dimmed.

"Stay with me," Vahanian begged, his voice raw.

"I cannot, except in your memory. Please, if you loved me, forgive yourself and let me rest." The image faded. "I will always love you," she whispered, raising her hand in farewell. "Goodbye."

Vahanian mouthed the words in response, but his voice failed him as the ghost faded and disappeared. Tris murmured the passing over ritual and felt the presence slip away. With wrenching clarity, he returned to himself. As the ghost disappeared, Tris's head began to throb.

Tris stood in silence for a moment watching the weeping mercenary with compassion, and then left Vahanian to his private grief and quietly slipped from the stable, using a flicker of magic to drop the bolt behind him so that no one might intrude.

He barely made it back up the path to the Library when he encountered Carina. "Where have you been?" she asked. "Kiara and Royster sent me to find you. They think they've found something in one of the books. Come on!" she said, and frowned, looking past him. "Is Jonmarc with you?"

Tris shook his head. "He's busy in the stable. He'll be along in a little bit."

Carina looked skeptically at him. "I suspect he'd seen that bit of jewelry before?" Tris drew a deep breath, decided against a lie, and nodded. "I'm amazed he wins at cards at all if that's his best betting face," she replied, but the comment lacked her usual barb. "You don't have to answer, but from that reaction, and the way he acted at the village, I'd bet he didn't have much success fighting off the things the last time." Tris hesitated again, then nodded. "Do you think he'll really leave, once we reach Principality City?"

Tris shrugged. "That's what he says and he's a man of his word." He looked at Carina. "I thought you'd be glad to get rid of him."

It was her turn to shrug. "He's a good sword," she replied noncommittally. "And having patched him up twice, I hate to think what he'll do to himself back on his own."

Tris chuckled. "You may have a point there. But you and Kiara will be going back to Isencroft once we get back to Principality City."

"I know," she replied. "And as homesick as I've been, I'm not looking forward to it."

WHEN TRIS AND Carina reached the third floor of the Library, they found Kiara and Royster bent excitedly over a massive book. The yellowed pages were dusty and brittle, and the old ink of the fine handwriting took a bright lantern to decipher.

"Tris, you've got to read this!" Kiara called excitedly, beckoning him to stand beside her. He bent over her shoulder, following her finger as she traced the lines while Royster read.

"'For three days, and three nights, the battle arcane raged between the Obsidian King and the sorceress Bava K'aa,'" he read. "'"Yield to me!" the Obsidian King demanded, "and I will grant you a painless death."

"T will yield only with your death," the sorceress replied.

"'Believing she was wounded mortally, Bava K'aa loosed her last, most potent spell-a gray magic which would bind both of their souls. The Obsidian King had wrought a magicked sphere, which opened into the Abyss itself, with which to catch and bind souls to strengthen his power. Into this Abyss Bava K'aa thought to seal the Obsidian King, even if she must forever stand guard.