Disclaimers: see part 1, chapter 1

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Lorimal's Chalice

Part Two - The Sorcerer

By Jane Fletcher

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Chapter 5: A Cautionary Tale

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Jemeryl's hunt for Abrak the next day did not produce the name of even one potential candidate. By evening, she was becoming dejected. Tevi contrived to be both more sociable and less friendly, which further depressed her mood. Tension permeated the entire castle; the bears were irritable and even Klara's stream of sarcasm dried up. Only the squirrels were unaffected.

Affairs improved slightly on the following day. Tevi's eyes were less sensitive which produced a positive effect on her humour. Her greeting at breakfast was warmer. Jemeryl wondered if this was a cue to stay a while and chat, but as soon as the meal was finished Tevi disappeared into her room. To Jemeryl's consternation, she returned a few seconds later, carrying her sword.

"I need to do some exercises." Tevi explained.

"Promise you'll stop if you get a headache?"

Tevi nodded, a little sheepishly. She moved to the largest clear space in the parlour. Her sword tip began to trace swift patterns in the air, moving in set routines of feint, parry and riposte.

Clearly, Tevi was not ready to talk. Jemeryl was about to leave, when an idea occurred to her, one that might get Tevi to accept help.

"That doesn't look very exciting." She said casually.

Tevi paused and glanced over her shoulder. "It isn't, but it's the only way I have to keep the muscles in my sword arm in shape."

"If you want I could conjure a phantom opponent for you."

"A phantom opponent?"

"An illusion for you to spar with."

"Um... thanks, but I wouldn't want to waste your time." Despite her words, Tevi was clearly intrigued.

"It's no trouble. It will only take a minute to set up. Everything I need is in the hall."

Tevi looked uncertain, but then nodded. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Jemeryl reduced the light in the great hall to a soft twilight that would not hurt delicate eyes. It was the first time Tevi had seen Jemeryl's workroom and she wandered around, bemused by the strange artefacts. A call from Jemeryl reclaimed her attention. The sorcerer had drawn a twisting pattern in chalk on the floor. A grey humanoid shape was forming above it, sword in hand.

"I'm afraid I don't know enough weapon-craft to make a serious opponent for you, but it should be more fun than waving a sword at thin air." Jemeryl said.

"Oh no, it's er..." Tevi's words ground to a halt in wonder. She stood in front of the figure. "What do I do with it?"

"Just attack. It will stop when you move away."

Tevi tentatively jabbed her sword towards the phantom's midriff. The figure responded instantly with a block. A shower of sparks fell as the two blades clashed. Tevi swung her sword across in a more purposeful attack. The phantom dodged, then struck out with its own weapon, forcing Tevi to parry.

She stepped back and looked at Jemeryl quizzically. "Before I go on, how dangerous is it?"

Jemeryl grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not about to see my work fixing your eyes go to waste. The sword will tingle if it hits, but that's all."

Tevi returned to the attack. Jemeryl settled back to watch. The phantom did not need her presence and it might be wiser to leave, but the sight of Tevi fighting, graceful and deadly, was too seductive. Then something else caught Jemeryl's attention. She leaned forward, intent on the timing of the two swords slicing through the air.

After several minutes of sparring, Tevi stood back, breathing heavily. Eyes closed, she pressed a hand against her forehead.

"Are you all right?" Jemeryl asked.

"Just a little giddy. The room spins when I move but it doesn't make me feel ill as it use to." Tevi's hand dropped. She sounded pleased.

"Good." Jemeryl paused. "You know, I don't think you're completely ungifted."

"Pardon?"

"You've got a trace of a paranormal ability."

"I've what?"

"It's nothing too conspicuous. I'm sure nobody else would have noticed. But it's my phantom, so I knew what it was going to do, and I could tell you were getting ready to parry its blow before it moved. I'd say your second dimensional time sense warned you." The surprise on Tevi's face made Jemeryl laugh. "Time exists in two dimensions. Nearly everyone can perceive one, but you need the paranormal ability for the other. A few can't see the first dimension - a bit like being blind or deaf. They appear mad to the rest of us. For them everything happens without order, cause or effect."

"And the second dimension?"

"It's used for fortune telling and the like. Fortunately it's an ability that isn't well developed in me."

"Why fortunately? It sounds like a good thing."

Recent experience came to mind, although Jemeryl decided not to use it as an example. Instead, she said, "It's more trouble than it's worth. If you see time in two dimensions, the future is as fixed as the past. There are very few with the faculty to any great degree in the Coven - most live as hermits. Keovan was a rare sorcerer who was fully aware of two dimensional time and still able to cope with other people."

"Wasn't he the one who founded the Coven?" Tevi remembered the name.

"It was founded by his apprentices after his death. Keovan couldn't have started the Protectorate; he was too overwhelmed by the ultimate futility of everything."

"The Protectorate don't seem futile to me."

Jemeryl's expression became solemn. "Nothing can last forever. One day the Coven will fall and the Protectorate with it. Four hundred years of peace and prosperity have swollen the population. There are over 70 million citizens, plus another 15 million in surrounding lands that depend on the Coven for their security. That's twice as many people as the rest of the world put together. When the Protectorate collapses most will die, one way or another. If I were permanently conscious that all the good I could achieve would only make for a bigger catastrophe at the end, I'd be as paralysed as Keovan."

"You said you thought I had something of the sense."

"Nothing like enough to give you problems. I'd guess it's working a fraction of a second into the future and only giving you critical information - such as where your enemy is about to strike."

"How does it work?"

"You know what you were doing. How did it feel? How did you know where to move?"

Tevi frowned. "It seemed as if Blaze, my old weapons instructor, was giving advice. I thought I was just remembering her lessons."

"That's the way your mind rationalised the information, because you haven't grown up with the sense. It wouldn't have worked on your islands. Judging by the absence of sorcerers, there must be a high iron content to the rocks, and iron puts a complete stop on prophecy."

"I'm not sure if I like the idea."

"I'd have thought it would be very useful to you. But if you want to block it out, wear iron or steel armour, particularly a helmet. Your sword will be impairing your precognition, although the wooden handle will insulate you to some extent. If, on the other hand, you want to make more use of it, you could consider getting a rune-sword that's been crafted to harmonise with temporal currents, but they are expensive."

"Supposing one day the voice screams in my ear, Too late, you're going to die."

"Then it won't make any difference."

Tevi swung her sword back and forth thoughtfully. Eventually she asked, "How rare is this extra time-sense?"

"Hard to tell. Many people have limited paranormal senses, but not enough to put to any use - just vague feelings. Sorcerers are rare; there are less than 3,000 of us in the Coven. Witches are far more common; they are people with good use of one or two extra senses. They work in occupations such as medicine, which only requires the sense we call aura-empathy. People who have it to a lesser degree tend to be farmers and gardeners."

"That doesn't sound very magical."

"Plants have auras too. Aura-empathy is the most widespread of paranormal senses and it isn't totally blocked by iron. Some people on your islands must have had it, though they probably weren't aware of what it was. Senses are so personal. You assume everyone sees the world the same way you can - like with your tunnel vision. Think about it. Didn't you find some people were good at looking after plants... green-fingered?"

"Like my aunt Han." Tevi's face brightened. "I remember her shouting things like Any fool can see the peas need watering. It may have been obvious to her, it wasn't to the rest of us."

Jemeryl nodded. "That's a typical remark from someone who can see the aura of plants."

For the first time in days, Tevi smiled directly at Jemeryl. The sorcerer felt her heart lurch, but, before she could speak, Tevi's face hardened. The warrior spun and attacked the phantom with a ferocious slash. Taking the hint, Jemeryl rose and went upstairs to her study.

* * * * * *

Four afternoons later Jemeryl sat alone and disheartened. She slammed the book shut and shoved her chair back from the desk. The search for Abrak was going badly. So far, she had come up with only two possible names, both of which were later discounted. It seemed as if sorcerers disappeared inexplicably even less often than might be imagined. She thumped her fist on the cover of the book.

From a nearby perch, Klara looked on, critically. "You could always throw it at the wall if you think it would help."

Jemeryl closed her eyes and sighed. "Perhaps the Abrak story is a complete fantasy. I ought to have found something by now. You know what old legends are like, maybe the whole thing was someone's idea of a joke."

"And the chalice was just an old beer mug?" Klara was at her most ironic.

"No, you're right, that wouldn't make sense either. The chalice must be genuine; otherwise someone wouldn't have bothered sending the bird to get it. And the strength potion is genuine as well. You can see the effect on Tevi."

"And I can see the effect of Tevi on you. You're really keen on her, aren't you?"

"She doesn't want to know." The pain showed on Jemeryl's face. "I can't make her out. Most of the time she cold-shoulders me completely. Then, once in a while, her guard slips and she acts like she wants..." Jemeryl's voice trailed off in despair.

Klara stood on one leg and examined the claw on the other foot, like a woman regarding her fingernails. "And they have the nerve to call sorcerers temperamental. But I'm sure she'll make up her mind about you in the end."

"There isn't much time. Iralin only gave me twelve days and they're running out. Tevi's eyesight is improving rapidly. She'll be ready to leave soon and she's still determined I can't go with her. I've got my future in the Coven to consider."

"She can't stop you following her."

"I don't want her to be frightened of me. I want her to like me."

The magpie fixed Jemeryl with a cynical look. "Like?"

"If she can't manage anything else." Jemeryl's thoughts churned in the state of chaos that Tevi normally inspired. She buried her face in her hands.

"Gods, you've got it bad."

Goaded into action, Jemeryl sprung from the desk and marched to the bookcase. "I'm going to broaden my search. Maybe if I look at the background to the island folk there might be a few clues. My grandfather's history of Walderim is here somewhere."

A faint smile touched Jemeryl's face at the memory of the old man, the only one of her blood kin who had not been frightened of her when she was a child, the only one she had any fondness for. He had come from Walderim and had pretensions of being a scholar, hence his history. The only good memories she had from her childhood were of him and her foster-mother, the witch. The only items from her birthplace she still had with her were the copy of his book, given as a present on the day she had left for Lyremouth, and a good-luck charm from her foster-mother. Jemeryl's own skill now far exceeded the elementary charm, and the book was not well-written; her grandfather's view of his talents had been rather inflated, but both items were a source of comfort when she was feeling low.

Jemeryl pulled the volume from the shelf, and hugged it to her tightly, her eyes closed. She felt in desperate need of comfort right now. Then, with a resolute expression, she returned to the table and opened the cover.

* * * * * *

After sunset, that evening, the two women wrapped themselves in thick cloaks and went for a walk around the battlements. It was the nearest thing to being out in daylight for Tevi since the bandage had been removed. She leaned against the stone palisade and gazed at the panorama on the opposite side of the valley. Distant ice-capped mountains faded away into soft purple shadows. A few faint stars glinted in the dark blue sky overhead. Beside her, Jemeryl tried to hide her nervousness; she was not looking forward to the coming conversation.

"Do you think I'll be able to leave soon?" Tevi asked.

"In a day or two. You could probably go tomorrow if it isn't sunny."

"Oh." Unaccountably, Tevi seemed deflated by the answer.

Jemeryl rested her arms on the parapet and peered over. The road passing under the castle walls was more mud than snow. Soon Tevi would be riding along it, leaving the valley. The issue would have to be forced. She had hoped for definite information before she spoke, but her search was running out of time.

In her most decisive voice she said, "I'm going with you when you leave."

"You can't." Tevi was equally determined.

"Why not?"

Tevi fiddled with the ties on her cloak, in obvious distress. At last, she said, "Because the quest is a wild goose chase. I haven't got a hope of finding the chalice and there was no expectation of me doing it from the start. I told you I was an embarrassment to my family. The quest was just an excuse to go away and get lost."

Tevi's words described a scenario even bleaker than the one Jemeryl had expected, and there was still something that did not tie in. "That was due to your tunnel vision. Now your eyes are fixed you'll be able to hold your own on the islands."

"Maybe not."

"Even so, you can prove it isn't your fault." Jemeryl insisted.

Tevi shrugged. "Anyway it doesn't matter. I don't know how to find the chalice."

"Which is why you need me with you. I can make a good guess as to why the chalice was stolen and that gives me a start in knowing where to look."

"What do you mean?"

"Abrak must have been a herbalist, so her chalice would have been made of crystalline silver. It's known a memory chalice. Herbalists work a lot by trial and error, with luck and accidents playing a part. They add a bit of one thing, then another, watching how the potion blends in the fifth dimension. By the time they get the mixture right they've usually forgotten exactly what they put in. A memory chalice works like a magical notebook. You can retrieve the formula for anything that has ever been made in the vessel. That's why someone would have gone to the effort of tracking down the chalice and snatching it. They must want to reproduce some of her work. All I have to do is work out who Abrak was and find out what her interests were. Then we go to whoever's working in that area. Herbalists exchange information between themselves, so even if the sorcerer we select isn't the one who took the chalice, they'll have a good idea who was."

"But whoever it is won't just give the chalice back."

"No reason why not. They must have found out what they wanted to know by now, so they'll have no further need for the chalice."

"It's not that simple." Tevi's voice was raw with despair.

Jemeryl would not be put off. "Yes it is, but you need me with you."

"Please believe me. I've got reasons I can't tell you. You can't come with me." Tevi's agitation was growing by the second.

Jemeryl did not have the option to compromise. "I'm afraid I have to."

"I don't want you with me." Tevi turned to flee the battlements. "I'm going back inside."

"I'm not such bad company, am I?" Jemeryl said softly.

Tevi froze at the head of the steps leading down to the courtyard, but did not turn back. "It's nothing to do with... It's not your fault, but you can't with me. I'm sorry." She disappeared down the stairs. Her footsteps faded away into the dusk.

"Tevi dashing off like that is getting a bit monotonous." Klara commented from a perch on the battlements.

Jemeryl leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the stars. Somehow, she had managed to alienate Tevi. Jemeryl did not have the first idea of what she had done wrong, but it was obvious that she had made mistakes as fundamental as those with the villagers.

The likely consequences if she returned to the Coven alone, and explained that the warrior had refused her company did not make for pleasant contemplation. One failure to discharge a duty was bad - two in the space of a month would be catastrophic. The authorities would be certain to withdraw her title of sorcerer and assign her to a punishment duty.

"You'd be lucky to get off with spending the next five years cleaning out the Coven latrines."

Jemeryl suspected Klara's flippant comment was nothing short of the truth. "I have no choice. I've got to go with her, whether she wants me or not."

* * * * * *

Mid-afternoon on the following day found Tevi in the courtyard, playing a fast moving game of tag with the bears. The sky was overcast, easy on her eyes. The world still wobbled when she twisted quickly, but Tevi no longer found it so disconcerting. With practice she was confident she would be able to make full use of her new expanded vision and, even now, Tevi was aware how much easier it was to avoid the bears. Trees no longer threw themselves into her path as she dodged.

Tevi hurdled over Ruff's back. After a last race past the porch of the great hall, she charged through the door to the kitchens and collapsed, out of breath, in front of the massive fireplace. The two bears lumbered in, also breathing heavily. Tumble flopped down at one side with a snort, while Ruff rolled onto his back, wanting his stomach scratched. He rumbled in pleasure when Tevi obliged.

Running her fingers through the thick fur was soothing. Tevi felt in need of something to calm her thoughts, now she was no longer occupied by the game. Her eyes were almost completely healed. The dull light had caused no discomfort; she could probably withstand sunshine. There was no reason to delay departure, yet the thought of saying good-bye was unbearable. Jemeryl's request to go with her was the final twist of the knife, but it was a risk Tevi dare not take.

Tevi's face knotted in a grimace as she explained to Ruff. "It's not that I don't want her with me. It's that I want her too much, and in all the wrong sort of ways. I've got to get away."

Ruff's stubby tail beat enthusiastically against the floor. He had no idea of what she had said.

Tevi got to her feet, and walked to the kitchen door. Directly opposite, on the far side of the courtyard, were the castle gates.

"Where do I go?" Tevi whispered to herself.

In the first case, it was an easy question to answer - the Rizen guild-house, where she could collect Harrick's pay and return the pony. From there she could secure another contract, which might take her anywhere in the world. But to what purpose? How much longer was she willing to run?

Of course, it assumed she would be allowed to leave the castle alone. Jemeryl's request was shifting from an offer to a demand. Should it become an order, Tevi could not legitimately refuse. The word of a Coven sorcerer was law in the Protectorate. So far, Jemeryl had made no attempt to use her status - but she could.

Tevi's only hope would be if her guild-masters made a direct appeal to the Guardian, which they were most unlikely to do. The fate of a sorcerer's magic chalice was clearly a valid Coven concern. If the assistance of one junior mercenary was required, the guild would not refuse - it was very doubtful they would even bother asking for a formal contract.

But if she were to leave the castle in secret, pack her things that night and be gone, what would Jemeryl do? Would she come looking for her ungrateful patient, or go after the chalice herself? Tevi had no idea why Jemeryl was so interested, but obviously the chalice held considerable significance for the sorcerer. If she found the thing she was welcome to keep it - Tevi made no claim of ownership.

Tevi left the kitchen door and crossed the courtyard. Her footsteps echoed in the enclosed space. The gatehouse formed an arch over the entrance. Jemeryl had no need of the portcullis it had once housed, and now only two wooden gates barred the way. There were no locks that Tevi could see - no bolts or bars. However, she had only one way to check for magic. Tevi caught hold of the rope hanging on the inside and pulled the gate open. If an alarm sounded Tevi could not hear it.

Bracken covered hillside rolled down to where trees breached the ruined outer wall of the castle. Snow still lay in sheltered corners, but spring was clearly on the way. The weather was warmer. A mild wind from the south had sprung up overnight, bringing rolls of heavy cloud. There seemed to be nothing to stop her going. Tevi took one hesitant step through the gateway, then another.

Without warning Jemeryl's voice rang out. "Tevi. Come here."

A selection of excuses rushed through Tevi's head. Heart pounding, she returned to the courtyard. Jemeryl's head was poked through one of the windows to the small tower. As nonchalantly as she could manage, Tevi trotted over to stand beneath.

"What is it?"

"Tevi. Come up here. I've found her. I've found Abrak."

* * * * * *

Jemeryl stood waiting excitedly outside the door to her study, on the landing at the top of the stairs in the great hall."I've found her. Come and see." Jemeryl called, as soon as she saw Tevi enter below. "And I take back all my sceptical remarks. I think your story is entirely true - almost."

Tevi took the stairs two at a time and followed the Jemeryl into the study. She pulled over a stool and sat at the other side of the large desk in the centre of the room.

"What have you found?" Tevi asked.

"Abrak, she was a herbalist from the school at Ekranos." Jemeryl's finger tapped on an open page. "That much I could have guessed. But her real name was Lorimal."

"She's mentioned in your books?"

"Not nearly as much as I'd have expected. I'm surprised there isn't more written about her - if only as a cautionary tale. But there's no doubt she's the one."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She was last seen 152 years ago, paddling a small boat, and talking to the seaweed off the shores of Walderim. More than that, she's probably the only person in history who could have made the potion in the way your story says. Everything ties in. Her speciality was potions producing permanent changes in body functions. As a young woman she was starting to make quite a name for herself, but then she made her big mistake." Jemeryl looked up from the book on her desk. "I told you how herbalists work by watching the harmonics of auras in the fifth dimension and projecting their observations back though the underlying planes?"

Tevi's face screwed into a bemused frown. "Well, maybe."

"Lorimal wanted to improve the process, so she developed a potion to give her intrinsic empathy with plants. After she'd taken it she could look at a plant and intuitively deconstruct its aura."

"She could do what?" Tevi was clearly struggling to keep up.

"She said the plants talked to her." Jemeryl was aware that she was being even less coherent that usual, in her excitement.

"You said she made a mistake."

"The mistake was that after taking the potion she empathised totally with plants, and there was no antidote. Have you ever tried talking to someone who thinks like a daffodil?"

"My great-aunt Wirry?" Tevi suggested, after a few moments getting her head around the concept.

Jemeryl threw her head back and laughed. "I'm sure your aunt isn't in the same league. What happened to Lorimal was her view on life changed so utterly she could no longer relate to humans. Your ancestors assumed exposure had addled her wits, but actually, it seems to have shocked her into the sanest frame of mind she'd had for decades. After Lorimal had used the potion on herself, she carried on charging around the Protectorate, doing all manner of things, but it was impossible for anyone to understand her reasons. The only thing she invented with any known use was a cure for a type of mould that infects wheat in the eastern plains. One of the ingredients is a small amount of the farmer's own blood. Some say it shows the way her mind was running - most herbalists use plant extracts to heal people, she used people extracts to heal plants."

"That makes some sort of sense."

"It was the only thing that did. Apparently, she once spent four months, standing in a garden belonging to a weaver in Davering, acting like a rose bush. Don't ask me why she didn't starve to death, the book didn't explain, nor did it say what the weaver thought of it, but it's no more bizarre than most of the other things Lorimal did. However there's plenty of evidence to show she'd have been quite capable of creating your strength potion, complete with gender bias. Her abilities were phenomenal, it's tragic they went to so little use - from a human point of view."

"Why would anyone want her chalice?"

"Perhaps someone's got a turnip they want a chat with?" Klara interjected.

Jemeryl grinned at the magpie before continuing. "I'd guess it's more likely they're after some of her earlier work, though I can't find any information about what that was. As I said before, I'm surprised Lorimal is so overlooked. I came across her name by chance in a history of Walderim written by my grandfather, and he was more concerned with whimsical anecdotes than herbalism. Lorimal hardly appears in any of my other books."

"So it doesn't help us find out who took the chalice."

"Lorimal's name is a good starting point." Jemeryl managed to keep her voice level, even though her hopes soared at Tevi's use of the word 'us'. "The best thing would be for you and me to go to Lyremouth. There's bound to be more information in the Coven library. It shouldn't take long to dig it out."

Tevi's brief burst of enthusiasm died. Her eyes fixed on the desk and she dug at the grain with her fingernail. "That's if I bother trying to find the chalice. I'm sorry Jem, but you can't come with me."

"I have to."

"I don't want company."

It was the old stalemate. Jemeryl's patience snapped. "It doesn't matter what you want, my superiors have ordered me to go."

"What's it to them?" Tevi asked defensively.

Instead of answering immediately, Jemeryl kicked her chair back from the desk and stalked across to the window. She stared out over the valley. Ten days before she would not have dreamed telling the whole truth to a common ungifted citizen. Now her emotions were so raw that the thought of losing face before Tevi was irrelevant. But would it help? Jemeryl took a deep breath and turned back to face the room.

"I wasn't told why." Jemeryl spoke in a bleak monotone. "My mentor contacted me a few hours before you came to the castle. She told me about you and the basilisk. She said that when you left I had to go with you. She also took the opportunity to tell me I'm a disgrace to the Coven."

"What!"

"Reports from the village have got back to Lyremouth."

"But the villagers have got you all wrong."

"It's nice you think that, but I wasn't able to convince my mentor. She tore me to shreds. I've been removed from my post in the valley and ordered to go with you and help you on your quest. So I'm going with you and that's the end of it."

Tevi face fell in dismay. Her eyes darted around the room, as if desperately seeking inspiration. "You have helped. You've found Lorimal's name. I could go to Lyremouth on my own and ask someone there to do the rest."

Jemeryl shrugged. "If I don't leave the valley with you, I might as well go straight to Lyremouth anyway. They like you to be there in person when your case is taken before the disciplinary tribunal."

"You wouldn't be punished?"

"Disobeying a direct order? Of course I would."

"What would happen to you?"

"I'm trying hard not to think about it." Jemeryl left the window and came back at the desk, again taking the seat opposite Tevi. "But it isn't going to happen, as I'm going with you."

Tevi licked her lips nervously. "Perhaps you could come as far as Lyremouth. When we're there I can explain that I don't want you with me."

"That will go down nearly as well as me deserting you."

"Why?"

"I was hauled over the coals for upsetting the locals. Now I've done the same with you. I don't know how." Jemeryl's head sank; her voice dropped as well. "Would it help if I said sorry?"

"You haven't upset me. You've been really nice."

"Oh sure. You think I'm so wonderful you can't stand being in my presence."

"That's not so far from the truth." Tevi mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Jemeryl buried her face in her hands. When she spoke her voice was quietly desperate. "Tevi, please. Tell me what I've done to offend you. Give me the chance to put things right."

"You haven't done anything."

"Tevi, come on." Jemeryl pleaded. "You can't stop me following you, but I can't stop you saying what you will to my superiors. If you're going to destroy my position in the Coven and wreck my life, you at least owe me an explanation."

Tevi slumped backwards. Her knuckles were white where her hands curled into fists on the tabletop. At last, she blurted out, "It's not you. It's me."

"What is?"

"It's me. I'm not fit company for any woman."

"Don't be stupid."

"No. It's true. The quest for the chalice was a sham. It was just a way to exile me, while saving my family the embarrassment of a public trial."

She's murdered someone. It was the first thought to shoot through Jemeryl's head, followed quickly by disbelief. There was no trace of malicious violence in Tevi. It must have been an accident, or a mistake, or something else. Who could tell what the barbarian legal code of the islands might be.

In a whisper, Jemeryl asked, "What did you do?"

"It was what they thought I was going to do."

Jemeryl frowned. "Be sensible. Even Coven seers don't punish people for what they're going to do, and prophecy wouldn't work on your islands - not with the iron."

"They were right." Tevi said, anguished.

"If I'm any judge of character, you're a decent, honest person." Jemeryl said earnestly. "I don't know what you think you were about to do, but I can't believe it was anything that bad. Even if it were, it wouldn't matter. The Coven leaders have some reason for wanting me to go with you. I can't see them being put off by a crime that hasn't yet been committed, in a land outside their jurisdiction."

"Wouldn't they want to protect you from me?"

Even in the overwrought atmosphere, Jemeryl had to restrain the urge to laugh. "I think you'd have difficulty persuading them you presented any threat to me. I don't mean to imply that you're not a formidable warrior, but I'm a sorcerer. A dozen of you couldn't..." Jemeryl's voice broke off as she tried to find some logic in what had been said. "Tevi, you're not making sense. What is this crime you're going to commit? How could you harm me?"

There was a long silence. When Tevi finally spoke her voice was a dry whisper. "I have a problem with men." She stared bleakly at nothing. Her eyes were devoid of fight, and of hope.

Jemeryl tried to understand. "I'm sure the same could be said for most of the women on your islands."

"No, it's different... I'm not sure how to explain." Tevi looked as if she was trying to swallow. "There were slang terms on the islands, crude ones. I've not tried to find out what your words are for it. I thought it best to avoid the subject completely."

Jemeryl opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Tevi was clearly finding things difficult enough without interruptions. Better to let her take her own time.

Tevi continued, picking her words deliberately. "I feel about other women the way a normal woman would only feel about men. In my heart I can only..."

The struggle to say that much had left Tevi shaking. She leaned forward over the desk and rested her head on her hands. However, Jemeryl was no more the wiser. It was plain to see the confession had taken a lot of effort but, despite turning the words around in her head, Jemeryl could produce no interpretation that was not totally absurd.

"I'm sorry Tevi. I don't understand what you mean." Jemeryl spoke as gently as she could.

"Don't play games with me." Tevi's torment gave way to anger. She sprung to her feet, knocking over her chair. In three steps, she had reached the door.

Jemeryl could not allow Tevi to escape. A pull on the sixth dimension tensors sent the bolt on the door sliding into its socket and all of Tevi's superhuman strength could not get it to budge. After a few futile attempts Tevi let her hands drop and turned around slowly to face the sorcerer.

Jemeryl had not moved from her chair. Quietly she said, "I'm sorry, but believe me, I'm not playing games. This is much too important to me."

"Jem..." Tevi begged.

"I really don't know what you mean."

Tevi slumped against the door, breathing in deep gulps. She closed her eyes and swallowed. "I'm physically attracted to other women, not men. I fall in love with them. I can't help it. It's women that I want sexually. And right now I want..." Tevi's words died in a grimace of pain. She twisted around to face the barred door, resting the palms of her hands on the wooden planks. "Please let me go."

There was utter, desolate despair in Tevi's voice. Regardless of the answers she needed, Jemeryl could not refuse the appeal. The bolt moved back. Tevi tore open the door and fled. Her footsteps sounded loudly on the stairs and away.

Behind her in the study, Jemeryl stared through the open doorway. She was still not certain she understood the full significance, but Tevi's confession had struck a chord with something she had read earlier that morning. Thoughtfully, Jemeryl pulled her grandfather's history book towards her and thumbed back several chapters.

The section she wanted was a lengthy extract from a 250-year-old report by a Coven sorcerer named Bolitho. It had been made in the mistaken expectation of Walderim imminently joining the Protectorate. In the guise of an itinerant healer, Bolitho had travelled throughout Walderim, while preparing extensive notes on the inhabitants. Some of Bolitho's analysis reflected ideologies, fashionable at the time, which were no longer accepted. However, he had been a conscientious and thorough observer, and one of his findings seemed to offer the explanation Jemeryl needed. It took a few seconds to find the part of Bolitho's report she wanted, relating to gender stereotyping.

Jemeryl settled down to read.

~~~~~~~~

Inherent to a hereditary culture has to be the belief in the inborn superiority of the ruling elite. Other groups in society have their value and assumed abilities assigned on a descending scale, with the lowest sections relegated to subhuman status. In Walderim, the main groups to suffer from this have been women and migrant workers from the north.

The position of women is especially bleak, partly due to the widely held belief that, instead of being distinguished by minor statistical variations, the characters of the two sexes are in some way diametrically opposed. In fact, the phrase 'the opposite sex' is in common usage. There is a refusal even to accept that a male sorcerer has vastly more in common with a female sorcerer than with an ungifted man (although I strongly suspect that this will change quickly once Walderim joins the Protectorate).

This results in an almost comical need to exaggerate any perceived gender difference into an unbreakable law of nature. For example, a local will categorically state, "men are taller than women". If I point out that only a small average difference exists and the divergence is such that many women are taller than many men, I am meet with animosity, as if I am being deliberately perverse.

This may at first seem amusing, but in practice it is quite odious. People's lives are made miserable if their stature is such as to challenge the assertions about gender and height. It is as if tall women or short men have committed an indiscretion and are deserving of derision or censure. With personality traits, such as aggression or compassion, which are harder to measure objectively and seen as under the individual's control (despite the contradiction with the idea that they are fixed by nature), the extent of the assumed polarisation and culpability is intensified. It is a brave person who refuses to distort their personality by pretending to match their gender stereotype.

I had a conversation with one of their 'philosophers'. He explained how the universe was divided into male and female principles. Male was active, light, hard; female was passive, dark, soft, etc. We had this conversation sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree. I found a male and female wood-louse in the rotten wood and asked the philosopher to illustrate these two opposed 'universal' principles, using the wood-lice as examples. The philosopher then accused me of being absurd!

Other people in Walderim are open to the argument that the gender stereotyping of their culture is almost entirely artificial. Yet, by adulthood, the beliefs have been ingrained on a subconscious level and, despite their better logic, they cannot disengage their cultural perceptions. However much they might value courage and independence they are still more socially comfortable ridiculing an assertive woman than they are respecting her, since, needless to say, the majority of positive character traits are seen as male. For women to assume an active role in the society they will first need to overcome the stigma of being 'unfeminine'.

The enforced divergence of the sexes has one other inevitable side effect. It has been observed that everyone is romantically attracted to a reasonably narrow spectrum of personality type, normally centred around a few key traits. Since children in Walderim are raised to see the characters of men and women as diametrically opposite, it follows that anyone seeking a long-term partner will perceive their idealised mate as falling into an exclusively male or female pattern. I strongly suspect that very few raised in this culture will be capable of falling passionately in love with persons of either sex.

This would be of no more than incidental interest were it not for strict local doctrines forbidding erotic relationships between people of the same gender. Such relationships are claimed to be corrupt, deviant and 'unnatural'.

During my time in Walderim I have been discreetly approached by many with an exclusive attraction to people of their own gender, who wish me to 'cure' them. I have been astonished by the extent to which they believe their culture's doctrine to be a natural principle, despite the evidence of their own emotions. They agree that people are right to despise them. They despise themselves.

The first time the request was made of me, I made the mistake of telling the man that, while in the Protectorate, my own lovers had in no way been restricted to women. I offered to let him accompany me when I returned. Instead of the relief I expected, the man accused me of trying to turn Walderim into a "decadent" region like the Protectorate. To my astonishment, he told me in an impassioned speech that, "some people still know what normal behaviour is". His attack changed from verbal to physical, and I was obliged to defend myself. He then resorted to denouncing me to the rest of his tribe, claiming I had tried to "defile" him.

I can conclude by saying that of all the things I have found in Walderim, this is the one that has surprised me the most. I was prepared to find people held in a state of subservience and those in power enforcing their beliefs on the less fortunate. However, this self-oppression has left me dumbfounded.

Even where people of different genders are attracted to each other, the result is less than satisfactory from a Protectorate viewpoint. As each partner has to try to conform to their own gender stereotype, and may only appreciate their partner as the opposite stereotype, it seems impossible that they can ever really know their lover. "My wife doesn't understand me." is a cliché so common as to be a joke. It is all quite astonishing and also very sad.

Eliminating the exploitation of migrant workers from the north of Walderim is also likely to encounter some problems...

~~~~~~~~

Jemeryl scanned the rest of the extract quickly, but nothing further of relevance was to be found. At the end of the chapter were a few additional comments from her grandfather, which stated that the conditions described by Bolitho had largely disappeared in Walderim, although echoes remained, particularly among the lower social orders.

Jemeryl pushed the book away, and sat for a while in thought. "I guess that explains what Tevi was going on about. The clans would have taken their beliefs with them when they fled to the islands. And it explains her tortured attitude. It must be awful, to believe that you're evil and depraved, and unable to do anything about it." Jemeryl spoke quietly. "Poor Tevi."

"So what do you to do now?" Klara fluttered down to land on the open pages.

"I don't know. If Tevi has absorbed her society's morality in the fashion described by Bolitho there's no hope of persuading her to change her mind. But it still doesn't explain why she doesn't want me to go with her. Although I suppose she might be worried I'll try to seduce her."

"That's not a totally groundless fear on her part."

Jemeryl shook her head slowly. "It doesn't match the feel of Tevi's words. It was as if she expected me to be shocked by her confession."

"Bolitho described a pretty strange mind set. From what he wrote, you wouldn't expect Tevi to be able to accept the personal freedom offered by the Protectorate. Perhaps the island's culture is so ingrained in her that she has to accredit the same ethics to others, even when she must know they won't share them."

"Maybe. But there has to be some way around it."

"On to a new field of enquiry." Klara said, brightly.

Jemeryl pushed back her chair and headed to the bookcase. She plucked a tall, thin volume from the top shelf. "Somewhere in here is a section on the perpetuation of cultural ethics by transferred guilt, considered as an imbalance in fifth dimensional perspective fields."

"I suppose you've got nothing about the utilisation of incomprehensible terms by sorcerers, considered as an nervous reflex under pressure?"

"No, but I might have a recipe for roast magpie somewhere."

Continued in chapter 6.

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