Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(41)

“Come,” Owen said, reaching his hand for hers. She took it, feeling childlike again. Then he turned toward the boy. “You can go back to the wagon and return to Ploemeur. Thank you, my boy.”

Curtis smiled, gave them a little wave, and left the grove while Owen and Cettie walked hand in hand into the cave. The budding light began to sting Cettie’s eyes, and she winced, squinting, trying to see what lay beyond.

They entered the cave, which had expanded enough to accommodate them, and stepped through a rift into another world.

They had traded darkness for daylight. The familiarity of her surroundings shocked her. She saw the enormous oak tree with limbs so heavy that they dragged to the ground in places. It was the sentinel oak tree beyond the walls of Muirwood Abbey. She had gone there after taking the Maston Test.

Muirwood! Her heart soared with relief.

She heard a crackling sound in the detritus surrounding the oak, the noise of someone approaching. She turned to find a pudgy man in breeches and stockings and a waistcoat holding a gnarled walking staff capped in gold.

“Well, my boy,” said the newcomer, his voice accented and husky. “You came at last. Good of you to bring our little sister along. I was beginning to worry you’d been distracted by the berry fields.”

“Hello, Myrddin,” said Owen with a fond smile, and the two men embraced.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RENEWED



Just like the grove, which felt familiar despite being unfamiliar, she almost felt she knew the strange man who had joined them. His outfit was from an older era, as were the square buckles on his shoes. He had dark hair, streaked with gray, a prominent nose, and an excited manner, bursting with energy.

She felt out of place. Had Owen and this man truly been expecting her? How did they know each other?

“I am also called Maderos,” he said to Cettie, holding his paunch and bowing slightly to her. “It is good to see you again, little sister.”

“Have we met before?” Cettie asked, growing more confused. She was in a familiar place, yet with strange company.

“We have, although you won’t remember it. Owen calls me Myrddin out of habit, I suppose. The pethet.” He grinned at Owen and butted him with an elbow. “But in this world, I am a wayfarer, a prophet, a beggar, a fool. And here you are again. You’ve been to this grove before, no?”

Cettie cast her eyes around it, feeling so insignificant next to the towering tree. “I have been here. After taking the Maston Test.”

“Yes, the Test!” Maderos said, beaming. “That was when we met.”

“But I don’t remember you,” Cettie said, shaking her head.

“No, of course you wouldn’t. But even though you do not remember, it is nonetheless true. We made a bargain, you and I. Now it is time for me to live up to my end of it.”

A chill swept down Cettie’s spine. What could he mean?

“I will tell you,” Maderos said, as if hearing her thought. “But first . . . you must make a choice. Every choice has its consequence. It is like this staff.” He hefted it in his hand and offered it to her. “If you take one end, you get the other end too. Choices, consequences. Sometimes we know what they will be. Other times we do not. The consequences may surprise us. Or hurt us. We accept both ends when we pick our actions. Is this not so?”

Cettie thought about his words a moment, then nodded solemnly. The Mysteries emanated from him, from the grove itself. She felt safer than she had in years, yet at the same moment, she felt a heavy doom weighing on her.

“So I offer you a choice, little sister. A choice between two sticks to pick up. You must choose one of them.” He arched his feathery eyebrows at her.

“What are they?” Cettie rubbed her arms.

“One choice is to forsake everything you are and have become. A hetaera, a poisoner, a harbinger, a daughter, a sister, a keeper, a friend. I will take you to a distant land where no one knows or would recognize you. You may start over again. Find what you will, become what you will . . . whatever you choose. You will not remember who or what you are now. That is the consequence. But you will be free to be whatever you choose. Cut off from the Mysteries, from your oaths, from your obligations. That is the first choice.”

Anonymity had its allurement. She’d assumed that by returning to her world, she would face the demands of justice. That she might even be executed. He was offering her a way out.

“And the other?” she asked him.

“I will be truthful, little sister. It will be a harder life. Your enemies will seek to kill you. They will chase and hunt you. Just as they’ll do with your friends. And you will chase and hunt them in return, to protect your empress. Rather than forget everything, you will be given a Gift of Wisdom that allows you to remember everything you’ve ever done or said. That will bring painful memories as well as sweet. You must accept both. And you will be a chosen one, a warrior of the Medium. An Oath Maiden.” Cettie saw Owen smile when that term was mentioned, and a knowing look came on his face, which confused her even more. “You will be given powers and gifts to help you in your calling. It will not be easy. And so, little sister, you must choose.”

He set his staff in front of him, putting both hands on the golden knob at the end.

Cettie stared at him, then at Owen, feeling perplexed and shaken. One of the paths seemed so much easier than the other, and she was so, so tired of life’s demands. But it would mean she wouldn’t remember the Fitzroys, or Sera, or even Adam. She would lose all sense of herself and the experiences that had formed her.