Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (20 page)

"You have the ability to move objects heavier or stronger than you,” he continued. “When you are in danger, run away. Never stay to fight. You do not have combative skills. You have the strength to break free, depending on the extent of the force applied to you. Wait for the best moment, free yourself, and then run. Come, we continue practicing."

"Lucien.” She looked at him, all dewy-eyed.

The little seductress did not get it. She could not ply him with affections anytime he showed her something new.

"Back to running,” he snapped again, turning his face away as he extricated himself from her arms. She had become utterly impossible with all these kisses and hugs.

They practiced until late in the night. He deliberately tired her out near the end to put a damper on her libido. Finally, they stopped for another meal. This time, he built a small fire and fished for their supper again. Finally, Aislan's strenuous day took effect. She looked exhausted and murmured about a bath in the river, but he bade her to go to sleep. She lay down on his cloak while he slept sitting up against a tree again.

They woke up the next morning and repeated the same routine, then repeated another night. He did not let her bathe, finding it easier to keep his distance with them both getting filthier. Even the thought of her naked was too much, let alone actually seeing her nude.

By early afternoon, they left for the edge of the forest and headed for the path to Danier.

Thousands of people poured from every direction. Aislan loved it, the bustling activities and the overwhelming surge of humanity. She had thought herself a loner but discovered how much she liked being around people.

"This could not be normal!"

"'Tis the Contender Tournament."

"Tell me more!” She was so excited she nearly jumped up and down as she pulled on Lucien's arm.

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Each year, North Sharland holds the Contender Tournament to recruit for the Royal Army. The best sorcerers and warriors from all clans and organizations in North Sharland attend and compete for ranks and titles."

"And the best serve the king?"

"The topmost—the Royal Tier, yes, immediately. The second to fourth tiers will pay homage to the king and serve on demand. They take their rank back with them and capitalize on it in their respective towns."

"When will the Tournament be held?"

"In a sennight."

"Why are there so many people here already?"

"These are your early birds. Those that wait too late will end up sleeping in tents."

Aislan hung on Lucien's arm as they walked through the densely packed street. The cacophony was deafening.

Danier was not filthy like Maligan. Here, far more wealth abounded with a thousand times more people. Many shops overflowed with people, usually well dressed. Some densely packed buildings rose many stories, some truly a dizzying sight to behold. The streets had to be ten times wider than Maligan's main street. Both sides were lined with street vendors selling everything imaginable. Aislan had never seen so much life or felt so much energy. She loved it, this royal city of Danier.

The wider street allowed horses and carriages to traverse in both directions. Aislan stopped in front of shelves of books one street vendor offered at a kiosk. Horses nearly trod on her before Lucien pulled her aside. The riders on the horses wore red and blue uniforms.

"The Royal Army,” Lucien said into her ear. He stopped in front of what seemed to be a huge restaurant. “We eat here."

Aislan looked at the elaborate sign. Like always, the letters intrigued her, but she could not decipher them. They went inside and settled down on one of the square tables. Lucien ordered their meal. Aislan looked about the restaurant, full of patrons, bustling with activity.

She leaned close to him. “Will it not be risky for us to be in the royal city?"

"There are too many actively moving sorcerers here to track. With so much energy, you cannot make blood distinction to find anyone based on senses alone. ‘Twould be like searching for a stone thrown into a mountain of rubble.” Even while speaking, Lucien stared at her fingers almost quizzically.

"What is the matter?"

"What are you writing?"

"Writing what?” She looked at the clean table.

"You wrote something on the table."

She looked at her finger scratching the table. Reaching across, he took her finger and traced a shape on the table, then a second shape.

"Go on. Finish it."

She moved her fingers along the lines and curves from memory.

"What was that you wrote?"

"A sign I saw in front."

He nodded. “You recalled it well."

"What did it say?"

"You wrote
Rose's Restaurant
."

"I did?"

"Perfectly."

Leaning over, he drew several invisible patterns on the table. “Can you retrace that?"

Aislan shaped the patterns. Shaking his head, he smiled. “You spelled
Danier
."

"I did?” Aislan could not control her excitement.

He traced a series of invisible patterns on the table. “Retrace."

She obeyed. “What did I spell?"

"You spelled
beautiful
upside down."

Aislan wanted to beg for more.

"Spell
Archangel's Fire
,” he said.

The inscription on the scabbard and on the hilt of his dagger. Aislan traced what she remembered.

"Amazing."

"I can write!"

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Eidetic.” She tried out the word. “I have a good memory?"

"More than just a good memory.” Coming over to her side of the table, he pulled a chair to sit next to her. He started writing, saying a word for each connection of patterns he traced on the table: “Deep inhalation, expunge. Visualize and focus.” He stopped writing. “Retrace those words."

"Deep...” Aislan moved her finger on the table, saying each word as she wrote.

When she finished, he kissed her hard on the mouth. Quickly pulling away, he became aloof again. A jester could not be more comical, Aislan thought affectionately.

"You are incredible,” he said. “You have complete recall."

"Does that mean I can read?"

"More than just read. This ability is very rare."

"'Tis a part of my—” she lowered her voice, “sorcery?"

"I have heard some people from the common population have this ability, so ‘tis not sorcery.” Looking about, he then got up and went to the proprietor near the entrance, who stood at a table writing something. Lucien came back with a large sheet, a menu. He read the items and the prices, pointing to patterns inside each word, giving her five items in one go. When he paused, she pointed to each place and repeated what he said. He read the entire menu quickly, pointing, and once finished, she repeated every word he said, pointing accordingly.

"Very good. Each word is usually separated by a space.” He tapped once at a pattern.

"Venison,” she said.

He chose randomly, and she said the word or the number. He turned it upside down and picked a few random words, and she said them. Their meal arrived, and Lucien went back to his seat, to Aislan's disappointment. While she ate, she pondered about asking if he would teach her to read. Surely, that would not be the same as teaching sorcery. Aislan hesitated. She had become too demanding, so she resolved not to ask for anything more. If Lucien wanted to show her something, then he would offer at his convenience. Under the table, Aislan started jiggling her knees, realized what she was doing, and immediately stopped. She added
Patience
to the long list of virtues she needed to acquire.

After supper, they went back out on the road. As they walked through town, Lucien pointed to passing signs, reading each one into her ear. Aislan had died and gone to her own heaven. As they moved along, she began to see the relation of each letter within each word. Sometimes, he would let her guess at the words surrounding a familiar one she had seen. Onto her palm, he traced the ‘vowels,’ one in capitalization, the other in lower case. Then he scribed the rest of the ‘consonants’ comprising the language, both in capitals and lower case. He drew the figures representing the number, then the abbreviated letters for tens, hundreds, and thousands. She retraced the alphabets on his palm, letter by letter. He kissed her again in approval.

"Brilliant lady. You have learned the foundation for reading in a matter of barely an hour. We will learn how to pronounce each letter combination, and then you should be able to string letters and sounds in words."

"You will teach me to read?"

He looked about. After a few moments, they stopped in front of a large shop full of paraphernalia, and then went inside. Aislan could barely control her excitement when he picked out three books and a small package as well as a small bag made of hide. Once he paid for them, he pulled her aside and handed her a book. She opened it in excitement and found page after page of words and tables.

"
Laws and Politics
.” Lucien tapped the title on the cover. “'Twill be useful to arm yourself with a little knowledge about how the system works so you can argue your case in front of the Court."

In other words, she would not stand in front of the king and sound naïve or—even worse—ignorant. Aislan laughed, and Lucien grinned, white teeth flashing.

"I think ‘tis perfect.” She touched a page reverently.

When he handed her the second book, she opened it slowly to savor the moment, seeing more words and drawings of people, like portraits.

"
History of Sorcery Dissent
.” Lucien tapped the title. “'Twas written by the Archbishop to represent the Church and the people. You might as well find out what the general populace thinks about the Sorcery Circle—according to the Church, of course. Mainly, ‘tis dissatisfaction and propaganda based on half-truths."

Aislan laughed again, knowing Lucien would set all the half-truths straight with his own version. He grinned, and she was caught by his raw magnetism. They stared at each other for a few seconds longer. Aislan wanted to kiss his beautiful mouth, but uncertain of his reaction, she hugged the two books to her breasts instead.

"Thank you. These are wonderful."

He smiled, then handed her the third book. Once again, she took her time opening it to savor the moment. The book was blank.

"You might as well learn to write, too. Now, now, Aislan, no need to cry."

Wiping the tears of happiness from her cheeks, she reached up to kiss him. He did not pull away, and Aislan took advantage of the moment to be close to him, lingering to taste him more thoroughly while everybody milled about them. Finally, he released her and they looked at each other until Aislan's equilibrium righted itself again.

Smiling, he handed her a set of scribers embedded in a holder. Aislan shrieked with delight.

"Oh, oh! How beautiful!” Pressing her cheek against his chest, she closed her eyes. When she finally let him go, he put the books and the scribers in the leather bag. “I'll carry it,” she offered eagerly.

"Too heavy for you.” He slipped the strap onto his shoulder, and then took her hand, weaving their fingers together. As they walked, Aislan could not stop smiling. Seeming to respond to her happiness, he was no longer aloof. She basked in his attention as he continued pointing and reading signs of the shops as they passed. Soon, they stopped in front of a huge, old building.

"You feel ill?” Aislan asked in puzzlement.

"Yes, a dosage for my aching head,” but his eyes twinkled. He pulled her into the apothecary's shop.

Aislan looked along the rows and rows of shelves holding jars and bottles of assorted plants and powder. The place was empty for something so huge. Several girls walked about, all dressed in plain green gowns. One came forward and curtsied at Lucien, recognition on her face.

"Milord. Milady."

"A remedy for my aching feet,” Lucien said, which confounded her. He had walked fine. To Aislan's surprise, the girl winked at him with complete familiarity as they looked each other up and down.

Images flashed in Aislan's mind, gone almost as quickly, but she caught the picture for a fleeting instance. These two had had plenty of sex with each other, with a third person in the picture, Aislan realized with sudden outrage.

"The Healer is in.” The girl walked towards the back. Lucien followed, pulling Aislan along.

They went through an entranceway to a hall with several doors and entered a plainly furnished room with nothing more than a table and a couple of chairs. On the table sat an assortment of jars of powder.

"Welcome back, love. You are a rascal to leave with nary a word.” The girl's dark gaze moved down to his crotch before she tilted her face.

Aislan wanted to throttle him when Lucien kissed the girl lightly on the cheek even though she offered her pouty, red mouth. The girl only grinned as she looked curiously at Aislan, who had no doubt she looked like a scullery maid in her tattered clothes. The girl wrinkled her nose slightly. She had Lucien to thank for not having bathed the last few days. They both smelled like pigs rolling in troughs.

"Milady.” The girl curtsied slightly.

Aislan simply looked at her. The girl shrugged at the snub, then winked at Lucien again. “You know your way, love."

"Thank you, Ruby.” Lucien smiled at her before she left, closing the door behind her. Going to a wooden door in the back, he opened it. “Come along, my dear.” He extended his hand.

Aislan did not like him too much at the moment. “You are a libertine!"

"Do not be difficult.” Taking her by the wrist, he pulled her through the door. They entered a garden with rows and rows of medicinal herbs, some of which Aislan recognized from her own cultivation of them at Templeton Castle.

"Where are we?"

"Not yet,” he cautioned.

They came up to dense vegetation, and Lucien stepped through a maze-like path. As they walked into the inner hold, the paths split into several trails. Lucien took a series of steps, and some of the bushes moved.