Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LXVI

On the other side of Tammerland, Jessamay walked quickly along the street. It was still morning and the sun's rays were warm against her back. She wore a dark brown robe with its hood pulled up over her head. Her left hand tingled with the spell she had cast yesterday, the same spell that Faegan had granted Shailiha to hide her endowed blood from others of the craft. She flexed her fingers and smiled.

Pulling her robe closer around her, she carefully scanned the busy street ahead. The person she was following still maintained her quick gait, obviously sure of her destination and in a hurry. It was vital that Jessamay not lose sight of her, for the Conclave might never get another such chance.

Jessamay had taken no pleasure in informing the Conclave of her discovery the previous day. She had certainly not wished to intrude upon Tristan and Celeste's happiness. But her news had been so important that she knew it couldn't wait. Despite how impossible it might seem to the others, she was positive that Sister Vivian was a traitor.

She had first realized it just after returning to Eutracia with Wigg, Tristan, and Celeste. She had been stunned by her sumptuous new surroundings; for this had been the first time she had seen the palace and the Redoubt. There had been many new people to meet. So many, in fact, that in some cases she found herself still trying to match the faces with the names.

But the moment she met Sister Vivian was one she would never forget. After more than three hundred years of being experimented on by Failee, Jessamay had finally been able to employ one of Failee's bizarre gifts: The first time she gazed into Vivian's light blue eyes, she knew that the acolyte's blood signature leaned to the left.

When she told the Conclave, everyone was stunned. When Wigg had called the acolytes home upon the River of Thought, he and Faegan had taken great pains to be sure that each graduate of Fledgling House was who she claimed to be and that none of them had in any way been tainted by the Vagaries. Their blood signatures had been matched to their birth documents in the Hall of Blood Records and also closely examined for preexisting Forestallments and the proper degree of lean to the right. Every woman had passed with flying colors.

Just the same, Jessamay had been adamant about what she had seen in Vivian's eyes. There could simply be no mistake. And so two intriguing questions bubbled to the surface. First, when had Vivian's signature been altered? It must have been at some point after she had been admitted to the Redoubt. And, second, who had accomplished this amazing transformation?

Surely no acolyte possessed the abilities to change the lean of a blood signature. Despite their combined skill and knowledge, even Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay remained unable to do such a thing. They suspected that the calculations for the spell resided in Failee's grimoire, but so far none of them had had the time to research it. That left only one other person in the world whom they deemed capable of such a thing-the Enseterat himself.

At first the wizards had considered entering Vivian's mind to learn the truth. But that idea was quickly dismissed. Better to follow her discreetly, they realized, than to reveal their suspicions. More might be learned that way-perhaps even things Vivian herself did not yet know.

So now Jessamay followed her through Tammerland, eager to see where the traitorous acolyte would lead her.

Vivian slowed and came to stop at a street corner that faced a roundabout. A fountain danced and burbled in the roundabout's center. For some time the acolyte stood there looking around warily. Finally she walked to the fountain and sat down upon its edge. Several people sat near her, and three children played noisily in the area just to her left.

Jessamay settled down to wait on a bench before a shoemaker's shop, directly across from the fountain. She pulled the sides of her hood closer to her face.

Once the area cleared, Vivian looked around. Then she slipped a hand into the side pocket of her robe and withdrew something. Narrowing her eyes, Jessamay called upon the craft to augment her eyesight. As she waited and watched, the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, there it was.

For the briefest of moments an azure glow escaped from between Vivian's fingers only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. After looking carefully around again, the acolyte opened her hand. What looked like bits of golden grain drifted down into the water. Then the acolyte stood and walked away.

At first Jessamay was in a quandary about what to do. Vivian had obviously just left a message for someone. The device she had employed was called "the reading of the wheat," and Jessamay was well familiar with it. But was Vivian now going off to meet with someone else? Should Jessamay stay here on this bench before the shoemaker's shop, or leave to follow Vivian?

Taking a deep breath, Jessamay made up her mind to stay. Someone would come to read the message-of that much she was sure. The only question was how long it might take for Vivian's contact to arrive. Settling back against the unforgiving bench, Jessamay prepared for what could be a very long wait.

Hoping against hope that she was doing the right thing, she watched Vivian round the next street corner and vanish into the crowd. Taking a deep breath, Jessamay shifted her weight on the bench. Two hours had passed and she was beginning to wonder whether she had made the right decision. But there was little she could do about it now.

She was about to go buy a cool drink from one of the street vendors when she saw a man approach the fountain. Dressed in a peasant shirt, dark trousers, and scuffed knee boots, he was unremarkable. He looked around furtively and sat down on the edge of the fountain in the exact spot that Vivian had vacated.

Her interest piqued, Jessamay took a chance and strolled out into the roundabout. She stopped to stand directly behind the man on the opposite side of the fountain. Unless he turned all the way around, chances were he wouldn't notice her. If she was right about him, he would soon be too engrossed with the craft to bother. And if she wasn't, then it didn't matter.

From where she stood she could just see over the edge of the fountain and into the pool of swirling water. At the moment no one else was around. If he's going to do it, now's the perfect time, she thought.

As if he were cooling himself, the man casually placed one hand down into the water. Jessamay saw no evidence of azure. As if by its own accord, however, the water in the pool quickly stilled. The man looked down for a few moments and then withdrew his hand. Soon the water moved again. The entire procedure had been smooth and silent, but that hadn't fooled the experienced sorceress. She had her man and she knew it.

The fellow stood and walked purposefully across the square. Determined not to lose him, she followed. Suddenly he picked up the pace and rounded the next corner. Lengthening her stride, Jessamay went after him.

As she came around the corner, she nearly panicked when she saw that he had a carriage waiting. After shouting something up to the driver, the man climbed in and closed the door after him. The driver cracked his whip and the carriage-of-four charged up the street.

Frantic, Jessamay looked up and down the thoroughfare. Finally she saw a lone carriage about twenty meters up, its three passengers disembarking. She hiked up her skirts and ran to it as fast as she could.

"Take me up the street!" she shouted. "I'm in a great hurry!"

The grizzled driver looked down at her with distaste.

"That was my last fare for the day. I'm off duty. Find yourself another ride."

"But yours is the only one here!" Jessamay protested. Looking up the street, her heart sank when she saw the other carriage vanishing in the distance.

"I'll pay you anything!" she shouted. "You simply have to take me!"

"What are you, some kind of a crazy woman?" he shouted back at her. But greed and curiosity got the better of him. "How much ya got, anyway?"

Jessamay conjured high denomination kisa in her pockets as quickly as she could and began literally throwing the money up at him. His eyes grew as big as saucers.

"Get in!" he shouted.

"No!" Jessamay shouted back.

Using the craft to augment her strength, she jumped straight from the ground into the seat alongside the driver. His mouth agape, all the stunned man could do was to look at her.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked up the street again. She could just make out the other carriage rounding a far corner. She ripped the reins and whip away from him.

"I'll be the one driving!" she shouted. "I used to be pretty good at this, but it's been a while. I suggest you find something to hang on to!"

Jessamay snapped the whip, and the carriage charged up the street, the bewildered driver holding on for dear life. Keeping a reasonable distance behind the other carriage, Jessamay followed her quarry until it came to an abrupt stop in front of a tavern. When she watched the man jump from his carriage, run across the street, and enter the archery shop there, she knew that this was the place the Conclave had been searching for.