Centyr Dominance (3 page)

“Family?” asked Gram.

“I presume so,” she replied, “an older woman and a
younger one, probably close to my age.”

“That explains why he kept his door closed,” observed
Chad.

“He did seem unusually fearful,” she agreed.

“You’re probably the only reason he let us use the
barn,” noted the hunter.

“Me?” she questioned. She also observed that the
hunter’s accent had become less noticeable now that they were alone. It seemed
to vary with his mood and the situation.

“Way out here men get lonely. With you along, he
wouldn’t be as worried that we’d be desperate,” explained the ranger.

Moira’s brows furrowed, “Desperate?”

“Yeah,” said Chad, “You know—to get…”

“Don’t finish that sentence!” interrupted Gram,
blushing furiously.

Moira felt her own face growing hot as his meaning
sank in.

Moira sat up. She had been drowsing. They had been
in the barn for over an hour, and without light, the best option had been
sleep.

She could have created a light, but they didn’t want
to worry their host. They could have lit a lantern too, but there wasn’t much
point. The best way to get through the night was simply to sleep and rise
early.

Besides, the dried meat and hard crackers they had
brought hadn’t done much for her hunger. She hoped that they would reach a
town soon, for living rough didn’t really agree with her.

“Someone’s coming,” she announced for her companions’
benefit. “It’s the two women from the house.”

The two people approaching carried a lantern and a
basket between them. Chad coughed before answering when they knocked at the
barn door, “Come on in. It’s yer own barn after all.”

The older woman was dark skinned, and the younger woman
who followed her was of a shade somewhere between that of her mother and the
pale man they had met earlier.

“I’m Sarah,” said the older one before gesturing at
the other. “This is my daughter, Laura. We thought we’d offer you some bread
and the beans left over from our supper.”

“That’s a kindness,” replied Chad. “You didn’t have
to do that.”

The mother nodded, “We don’t see many visitors out
here, and when Laura heard there was a girl near her own age, she wanted to
meet her.”

Laura’s eyes went to the floor when she heard her
name. The girl seemed intensely shy. Moira started to introduce herself, but
Chad spoke quickly.

“My daughter don’t talk much. Her mother had trouble
while giving birth, an’ it did somethin’ funny to her. She can manage a word
or two now an’ then, but she stammers so badly she tends to avoid
conversation.”

Moira gave the hunter a look that held the promise of
future retribution before suppressing her irritation and offering her hand to
the younger woman. “I’m M—G—Gertie,” she said, narrowly avoiding giving her
own name. The stammer made it easy to cover her mistake.

Laura took her hand eagerly, flashing a nervous smile
and warm brown eyes as she did. She lifted a small wooden box with her other
hand. Her face conveyed an unspoken question.

Sarah appeared slightly embarrassed, “She can’t talk.
There was an accident when she was younger, before we moved out here. She
wants to know if you would like to play a game.”

Moira nodded and watched as Laura placed her box on
the ground and opened it. The others split the hard loaf of bread that was in
the basket. The beans were in a small pot, and there were no bowls and only
one spoon, so they were forced to take turns eating. The silent girl unpacked
her playing pieces as they did.

It was a simple checkered board, and the chess pieces
were hand carved. One of the knights was missing, and a dark colored stone had
been substituted for it. Moira sat across from the girl and began setting up
the pieces on her side. Chess was a common pastime in her own home, and she
guessed that it was probably the only entertainment these people had out here.

It must get boring, playing the same two
other people all the time,
she thought to herself.

The other girl, Laura, looked at her expectantly once
the board was ready, excitement in her eyes. She had given Moira the white
pieces, so it was her turn first.

Moira grinned at her.
The poor thing doesn’t know
what’s coming.
She relished the game. Her father was possibly the best
player in Castle Cameron, and she had grown up playing from a young age. She
hadn’t encountered many people who could give her a good game outside of her
own family, other than Gram’s mother, Rose.

The next quarter of an hour proved educational. After
a slow start, she found herself being hemmed in as her defense was
systematically picked apart. She had drastically underestimated her opponent.
Her defeat came as an inevitable consequence.

Laura gave her a shy glance as she placed her in
checkmate. Her expression showed clearly that she worried she might have
offended her.

Moira smiled, “Y—you’re g—g—good!” Being forced to
pretend to stammer was more annoying than losing the game.

Laura smiled in return and held out a piece toward
Chad, silently asking if he might like to play.

“Nah lass, I can see ye have me outmatched already,”
he demurred.

Moira took up the challenge once more, and this time
she played carefully from the beginning. The game lasted longer, and she put
up a hard fight, but the result was the same.
Damn! She’s really good,
she
thought to herself.

It was clear that the girl she was playing was far
more intelligent than she had initially assumed, and Moira began to divide her
attention, using her magesight to study the girl who was forcing her to thoroughly
reassess her opinion of her own chess skills.

Back at home she normally couldn’t study people’s
minds. Her father’s enchanted pendants effectively shielded the minds of
everyone she had grown up around, so it was a relatively rare occasion for her
to be able to watch the inner workings of other human beings.

Laura’s aythar was normal in most regards, but the
working of her mind was unusually sophisticated. Moira could readily see the
damaged areas of her brain, but it was the undamaged portions that fascinated
her. She couldn’t read the girl’s thoughts, not without more direct contact,
but just by watching, she could tell that Laura’s mind was exceptionally capable.
The peasant girl’s mind moved rapidly as she considered the chessboard,
examining and discarding possibilities with brutal efficiency.

She’s brilliant,
noted
Moira.
I wonder if this is what Lady Rose’s mind looks like when she’s not
wearing one of the pendants.
She suppressed a sudden urge to reach out and
touch the other girl more directly, mind to mind.

That was something she was not supposed to do, her
mother had warned her about it previously.

Not her real mother, of course, but Moira Centyr, the
shade left behind by her original mother, who had died over a thousand years
past. She had cautioned her about such contact years ago, before she had been
given a new body and become human.

You must never allow yourself to touch the
minds of normal humans,
the Stone-Lady had warned her.

“Why not?” she had asked. She had been only ten at
the time.

You are a Centyr mage. We perceive the
mind in a different way.

“But I talk to Dad and my brother that way all the
time,” Moira had protested.

They are wizards. Their minds are not so
delicate.

“And Mother and Father talk mind to mind sometimes…”

Your father is not a Centyr. We must be
more careful.

Why?
asked Moira
silently.

We can change things. We have a special
affinity for the aythar of the mind, but without sufficient skill even the
slightest touch could alter or damage a human’s mind.

“Is that why everyone wears those necklaces Father
makes?” she had asked.

No. Your father made those for a
different reason, but it is for the best that they wear them. In my day,
Centyr children were kept away from non-mages until they were old enough to control
their impulses.

“I would never hurt someone,” she had insisted.

Have you ever built a house of cards?
the
Stone-Lady had asked.
What happens when your younger brother finds it? Now
imagine if everyone’s mind were a complex house of cards, one touch can bring
the entire thing tumbling down. That’s why young Centyr mages were kept
isolated. Even after you are grown, you must avoid contact with normal minds.
The tiniest mistake can destroy someone’s life, and if ever they suspect what
you can do, they will fear you.

“I should return,” said Sarah, breaking Moira’s train
of thought.

Her daughter shook her head negatively. She wanted to
play more, and it was obvious that her new friend was willing to continue for a
while.

Sarah held her breath for a moment before answering,
“Fine. Stay if you wish, but come in as soon as they get tired. I don’t want
you making a nuisance of yourself.”

Moira smiled at that, and Laura nodded in agreement.
The two of them played for another couple of hours, while Gram and Chad both
gave up and fell asleep. In all that time Moira never won a game, though she
came close at one point when Sarah began to drowse.

The other girl closed her eyes while Moira set up the
pieces once more. When she finished she realized that Laura had fallen soundly
asleep. Moira pushed the board aside and studied the other girl intently. Now
that she had some quiet, she could devote herself to studying damage to Laura’s
mind.

The part of Laura’s brain that was responsible for
speech in normal people was dark. At a physical level Moira could see that
some of the tissue there had died, leaving a disconnect that prevented the girl
from speaking, even though she could still understand others’ speech.

She had no idea how to restore lost brain tissue, but
being a Centyr she knew that wasn’t strictly necessary. The sentient
intelligences she regularly created had no physical brain whatsoever, their
minds were constructed from a web of pure aythar. It would be easy to create
something similar and attach it to Laura’s mind. Her natural aythar would
support it, and it could perform the necessary function of bridging the gap
between Laura’s intentions and the motor centers that controlled her tongue and
voice box.

If I’m really careful, it shouldn’t disturb
anything else,
thought Moira.

Reaching out mentally she crossed the boundary of
Laura’s mind. She felt slightly guilty, breaking the rule her mother had
warned her about, but she knew it was for a good purpose. Deftly she
constructed the necessary pattern to enable speech, and using the lightest of
touches she connected it to Laura’s psyche, allowing it to bypass the areas
that no longer worked. So gentle was her work that the other girl never even
woke, although she did begin to babble in her sleep, but just for a moment.

Moira withdrew and studied her handiwork. The
patterns in Laura’s mind had shifted ever so slightly, but otherwise she seemed
unchanged. Everything was still balanced and she doubted that the girl would
notice a difference.
She’ll be able to talk when she wakes. I wonder what
she will think.

She touched Laura’s shoulder, “It’s late. You should
go to bed so your mother doesn’t worry.”

Laura stirred, opening sleepy eyes, “Mmm, yeah.” The
sound of her own voice startled her, and she sat up suddenly, staring at Moira
in surprise. “What’s happening?” she said, with a note of alarm in her tone.

“You can talk now,” stated Moira plainly.

“What happened to your stutter?” asked Laura. She
clapped one hand over her mouth in surprise. “I’m talking!” she added through
her fingers.

“Actually, I need to apologize,” explained Moira. “I
was only pretending to stutter. We were afraid my accent would give away our
origin, and we didn’t want to alarm your father.”

“You don’t sound like him,” observed Laura, indicating
Chad. The sound of her own voice continued to startle her, and her eyes began
to water. “My voice!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. I must be
dreaming. Who are you?”

“There isn’t much point in hiding it now,” said Moira.
“I’m Moira Illeniel.”

Laura stared at her in surprise, almost taking a step
back, “You’re the Blood-Lord’s daughter?” She looked at Chad Grayson who had
awoken and was quietly watching them talk. “He’s the Blood-Lord?!”

Chad was irritated already by the fact that Moira had
revealed her identity, but this new pronouncement made him groan, “Ahh, for
fuck’s sake.”

Moira was none too pleased herself at hearing the name
‘Blood-Lord’. It was an appellation that people had begun using for her father
after he had slain Duke Tremont and his men in Albamarl. Technically it hadn’t
even been her father who had done it, but no one believed that. “That’s not my
father,” she corrected, “and I really don’t like the term ‘Blood-Lord’. My
father is a good man, and he’s far too kind to deserve that name.”

Laura’s thoughts were moving several times faster than
her newly restored speech could keep up with, “But he…!” She was staring at
Chad. “He’s not? But then, who is he? Why are you…? What have you done to
me?!” She punctuated each question by clapping her hand over her mouth, only
to remove it to ask the next one. It was almost comical.

“I just made it so you could talk again,” said Moira
simply. “I saw a way to help, and it didn’t feel right to do nothing.”

“You’re a witch!”

Moira winced at that remark. Most witches were simply
older women with some knowledge about medicine and herbal lore. Some even
possessed weak abilities to manipulate aythar, but in general they were just
ordinary people who had been badly misunderstood. “I prefer ‘mage’, or
‘wizard’.”