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The Spirit Lens
The Spirit Lens Read online
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER ONE - 33 TRINE 64 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWO - 36 TRINE 61 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THREE - 36 TRINE 61 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER FOUR - 10 QAT 51 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER FIVE - 11 QAT 50 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER SIX - 11 QAT 50 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER SEVEN - 12 QAT 49 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER EIGHT - 13 QAT 48 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER NINE - 13 QAT 48 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TEN - 14 QAT 47 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER ELEVEN - 15 QAT 46 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWELVE - 18 QAT 43 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - 21 QAT 40 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - 21 QAT 40 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - 23 QAT 38 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - 31 QAT 30 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - 31 QAT 30 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - 31 QAT 30 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER NINETEEN - 32 QAT 29 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY - 32 QAT 29 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - 4 CINQ 21 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - 4 CINQ 21 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - 5 CINQ 20 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - 6 CINQ 19 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - 7 CINQ 18 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - 9 CINQ 16 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - 9 CINQ 16 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - 11 CINQ 14 DAYS UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - 25 CINQ THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTY - 25 CINQ THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - 25 CINQ THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - 25 CINQ THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - 25 CINQ THE ANNIVERSARY
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - 30 CINQ 5 DAYS AFTER THE ANNIVERSARY
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Praise for the Novels of Carol Berg
Breath and Bone
“The narrative crackles with intensity against a vivid backdrop of real depth and conviction, with characters to match. Altogether superior.”
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Replete with magic-powered machinations, secret societies, and doomsday divinations, the emotionally intense second volume of Berg’s intrigue-laden Lighthouse Duet concludes the story of Valen. . . . Fans of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Avalon sequence and Sharon Shinn will be rewarded.”—Publishers Weekly
“Berg’s lush, evocative storytelling and fully developed characters add up to a first-rate purchase for most fantasy collections.”—Library Journal
“Berg combines druid and Christian influences against a backdrop of sorcerers, priestesses, priests, deep evil, and a dying land to create an engrossing tale to get lost in . . . enjoyable.”—Monsters and Critics
“An excellent read . . . a satisfying sequel.”—Fresh Fiction
“Set in a well-crafted world of magic, intrigue, and dark secrets, this is the intense conclusion to the adventure that began in Flesh and Spirit. . . . Berg injects complexity into her characters with a fascinating mix of noble intention and human weakness.”
—Romantic Times
“The world Berg builds is one of these intricate, multidimensional fantasy worlds you can’t describe in one sentence. Just read the books.”—The Monthly Aspectarian
Flesh and Spirit
“The vividly rendered details . . . give this book such power. Berg brings to life every stone in a peaceful monastery and every nuance in a stratified society, describing the difficult dirty work of ordinary life as beautifully as she conveys the heart-stopping mysticism of holiness just beyond human perception.”
—Sharon Shinn, national bestselling author of The Thirteenth House
continued . . .
“Valen is unquestionably memorable—in what is definitely a dark fantasy as much concerned with Valen’s internal struggle as with his conflicts with others.”—Booklist
“Chilling fantasy.”—Publishers Weekly
“Fast-paced. . . . Berg creates a troubled world full of politics, anarchy, and dark magic . . . fascinating.”—SFRevu
“Carol Berg has done a masterful job of creating characters, places, religions, and political trials that grab and hold your attention. . . . Don’t miss one of 2007’s best fantasy books!”—Romance Reviews Today
“[Berg] excels at creating worlds. . . . I’m eagerly awaiting the duology’s concluding volume, Breath and Bone. . . . An engrossing and lively tale, with enough action to keep you hungry for more.”—The Davis Enterprise
The Bridge of D’Arnath Novels
“A very promising start to a new series.”—The Denver Post
“Berg has mastered the balance between mystery and storytelling [and] pacing; she weaves past and present together, setting a solid foundation. . . . It’s obvious [she] has put incredible thought into who and what make her characters tick.” —The Davis Enterprise
“Berg exhibits her skill with language, world building, and the intelligent development of the magic that affects and is affected by the characters . . . a promising new multivolume work that should provide much intelligent entertainment.”—Booklist
“Imagination harnessed to talent produces a fantasy masterpiece, a work so original and believable that it will be very hard to wait for the next book in this series to be published.”—Midwest Book Review
“[Seri] is an excellent main heroine; her voice, from the first person, is real and practical. . . . I’m truly looking forward to seeing what happens next.”—SF Site
“Gut-wrenching, serious fantasy fiction.”—Science Fiction Romance
“Excellent dark fantasy with a liberal dash of court intrigue. . . . Read this if you’re tired of fantasy so sweet it makes your teeth squeak. Highly recommended.”
—Broad Universe
Song of the Beast
Winner of the Colorado Book Award
for Science Fiction/Fantasy
“The plot keeps twisting right until the end . . . entertaining characters.”—Locus
“Berg’s fascinating fantasy is a puzzle story, with a Celtic-flavored setting and a plot as intricate and absorbing as fine Celtic lacework. . . . The characters are memorable, and Berg’s intelligence and narrative skill make this stand-alone fantasy most commendable.” —Booklist
“It would be easy to categorize it as another dragon fantasy book. Instead, it is a well-crafted mystery . . . definitely recommended for libraries looking for high-quality fantasy and mystery additions.”—KLIATT
Transformation, Revelation, and Restoration
The Acclaimed Rai-Kirah Saga
“Vivid characters and intricate magic combined with a fascinating world and the sure touch of a Real Writer—luscious work!”—Melanie Rawn
“Grabs the reader by the throat on page one and doesn’t let go . . . wonderful.”
—Starburst
“Berg greatly expands her world with surprising insights.”—The Denver Post
“Superbly entertaining.”—Interzone
“Vivid characters, a tangible atmosphere of doom, and some gallows humor.”
—SFX Magazine
“An exotic, dangerous, and beautifully crafted world.”
&n
bsp; —Lynn Flewelling, author of Traitor’s Moon
“Berg’s characters are completely believable, her world interesting and complex, and her story riveting.”—KLIATT
“Epic fantasy on a gigantic scale. . . . Carol Berg lights up the sky with a wondrous world.”
—Midwest Book Review
ALSO BY CAROL BERG
THE RAI-KIRAH SERIES
Transformation
Revelation
Restoration
Song of the Beast
THE BRIDGE OF D’ARNATH SERIES
Son of Avonar
Guardians of the Keep
The Soul Weaver
Daughter of Ancients
THE LIGHTHOUSE SERIES
Flesh and Spirit
Breath and Bone
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, January 2010
Copyright © Carol Berg, 2010
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Berg, Carol.
The spirit lens: a novel of The Collegia Magica/Carol Berg.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-16331-3
I. Title.
PS3602.E7523S75 2010
813’.6—dc22 2009030454
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Thanks to all those who helped me bring this story to life. It’s impossible to say enough about Linda, my brilliant muse, consultant, and friend—the spirit of Lianelle. And then, of course, Susan, Laurey, Glenn, Brian, Cath erine, and Curt, who prod me to be better, and Brenda, who prods me to be. Thanks to Markus, the Fighter Guy, for his valuable consultations. But most especially this is for Pete, the Exceptional Spouse, whose patience and care keep life beautiful and together. I love you all.
PRELUDE
Philosophers claimed the Blood Wars had irredeemably corrupted magic. Historians insisted that Sabria’s growing sophistication in physics, astronomy, and alchemistry—the almost daily discoveries that exposed another spell as nonsensical and another magical practitioner as a charlatan—was but a grand human evolution, on the order of our discovery of fire, the wheel, or sail. Whoever had the right of the discussion, a sensible man could not but admit that the practice of magic had lost its glamour—and I was an unendingly sensible man.
Of course it was not good sense, but rather my own incapacity that had caused me to relinquish my aspiration to life as a mage of the Camarilla Magica. Sixteen years’ residence at the sole remaining school of magic in Sabria and I could not charm a flea to a dog’s back.
With encouragement from my mentor, I had faced disappointment squarely, weathered the storm that followed, and accepted what solace was offered me. Yet somewhere, nurtured by the lost dreams of youth and exposed in the ruthless self-examination required to recover from despair, lay a small, intractable conviction. A seed that would not let me spit it out. A stone that would not be shaken from my shoe. I ought to be more than I was. Even if I lacked the blood-born talents of a mage, somewhere, in some capacity, my service would make a difference in this world. Perhaps that’s why the summons intrigued me so, though it made no good sense at all.
The odd missive had arrived in the late afternoon. Spring sunlight streamed through the casements of the collegia library, stretching all the way across the scuffed floor to the book cupboard labeled FORMULARY: POTIONS AND HERBALS. Only incidentally did the beams illuminate the fold of fine paper in my hand.
I peered again at the outside of the page. No insignia had manifested itself in the broken wax seal in the past few moments. The handwriting that spelled out my name remained unrecognizable.
Portier de Duplais, Curator of Archives
Collegia Magica de Seravain
Bold and angular—a man’s hand, I judged. Seven years of intensive study in this library and nine more as its keeper, with little companionship but five thousand mouldering manuscripts and a transitory stream of increasingly vapid students, had left me unskilled in the discipline most important to me, but knowledgeable in many arcane branches of learning.
I flipped back to the enigmatic message.
Portier de Savin- Duplais:
Present yourself at Villa Margeroux on the Ventinna Road no later than 17 Trine on a matter of urgent family business. A mount awaits you at the hostelry in Tigano. We require utmost discretion.
Your kinsman
NO PERSONAL SIGNATURE. NO POLITENESSES. I had no acquaintance with Villa Margeroux or with any person who lived in the vicinity of Ventinna.
The note could be a prank, perpetrated by some student I had reprimanded for marking in books or dripping lamp oil onto irreplaceable pages. Mage Rutan’s much-praised validator, the small pewter charm I had wheedled out of the old sturgeon only with extraordinary groveling, wavered maddeningly between dullness and brilliance, refusing to designate the message as truth or falsehood.
Yet the request was stated with a certain directness uncharacteristic of students. Uncharacteristic, too, was the distance involved; Ventinna lay a good four days’ ride westward. And a particular detail tickled my imagination, one that might escape a reader unburdened by the excessive expectations of names and bloodlines—or the private convictions of some greater destiny too embarrassing to mention, even to his longtime mentor. The outer address used my common appellation, Duplais being my father’s unprepossessing demesne. But the inner included Savin, the family name I had long discarded, which could not but lead my thoughts to one particular kinsman and couch the imperious tone of the message in an entirely different light. Present yourself . . . We require .
. .
A prickle of excitement minimized all sober considerations, such as how to request leave from my duties while maintaining utmost discretion, and how ridiculous it was to imagine that my fifteenth cousin, the King of Sabria, had summoned me to a clandestine meeting. I had never even met the man.
My finger traced the Savin family device scribed on the back of my left hand at birth, then moved inevitably to the ragged, nine-year-old scar that bisected it, scoring my wrist and vanishing up my sleeve. If not now, Portier, when?
In an instant’s resolve, I stuffed the missive inside my threadbare doublet, snatched up my compass, journal, and pen case, and locked my desk without so much as returning my books to the shelves. A hastily scribbled note directed students to see Adept Nidallo for access to the archives or the vault. At the modest age of two-and-thirty, I’d spent precisely half my life inside these walls. My bones had near fossilized. Did my royal cousin bid me suckle his children, I’d do it.
“COUSIN PORTIER. WE’VE NOT MET before, I believe.” The tall, broad-shouldered man in maroon and silver stood by a grand window that opened onto the sprawling country estate called Margeroux. His clear voice resonated with confidence. His extended hand bore a ruby signet, crested with Sabria’s golden tree.
“Indeed, sire, I’ve not had that privilege.” I dropped to one knee and kissed his proffered ring. “How may I serve you?”
I felt immensely relieved and a bit foolish. Four long days in the saddle give a man occasion to recall every synonym for idiot. Philippe de Savin-Journia was a sovereign in his prime. His wealth and open-mindedness had artists, explorers, scholars, and academicians of every science flocking to his court. What possible need had he of a librarian, schooled in a fading art? I had decided that, at best, the kinsman awaiting me would turn out to be some moronic relation as bereft of fortune and prospects as I. Worse cases abounded.