Sorceress of Faith by Robin D. Owens

figured that much out. He whispered a word that was taken from her
ears by the wind and a cube of moss and earth around the stone lifted as if
cut. Another sighing two-note whistle and the stone removed itself. Bossgond
waved for her to look into the darkness.
    She
had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust before she could see a rough
pyramid point inside the hollow.
    “The
keystone of the tower,” Bossgond said. “The proof that a person has become a
Circlet Sorcerer or Sorceress is when they raise their own tower with their
Power.”
    Marian
swallowed.
    He
reached in and caressed the keystone, smiling as if he petted a beloved animal.
    Marian
thought of her lost hamster Tuck and sniffled. What on Earth—on Amee—did these
people do for handkerchiefs? And where would they put them? She hadn’t noticed
any pockets—but as she thought of them, four flapped against her skin.
Interesting.
    “If
this stone is found and destroyed, my tower will fall. I may or may not be
hurt, depending on whether I am in the tower and how much of my Power I have
invested in my tower at the time. At the moment you are not Powerful enough to
do me harm, and when we Bond by Blood as Master and Apprentice, we will be
incapable of harming each other. Any secrets will never be able to pass our
lips.”
    Blood-bond.
Right. The idea should have deterred her, but it didn’t. Blood played a large
part in various cultures’ rituals to symbolize a connection between people. She
considered it a small price to pay for knowledge.
    “You
understand?” asked Bossgond.
    Marian
nodded, tucking the information and ramifications away to consider later. She
reached in and touched the keystone. A little current ran through her—not
soothing like her connection to Mother Earth had been—and she twitched. She
couldn’t imagine grounding herself with this rock; there was too much energy.
    Bossgond
sighed, shrugged. “Not a good stone for you to link to.” With a wave of his
hand the tower stone and the cube of sod settled back into place, looking as if
they’d been undisturbed for centuries. “This is my Tower on Alf Island. But it
is not the first Tower. We will walk to old Mortig’s Tower. Perhaps that will
be better for you.”
    They
set off briskly and a minute later Marian bumped into a sizzling invisible
barrier. She yelped and jumped back.
    On
the other side of the…forcefield, Bossgond smirked at her. Then he stepped up
before her, touched his index finger to the barrier and “cut” a door for her.
She lifted her chin and swept through past him.
    “When
we bond you will be able to enter or leave at will. I will also show you the
courtesy portal for well-intentioned visitors.”
    After
a quick walk away from the sun—west, then—of about a half hour, they reached
the remnants of tower walls about five feet high. Bossgond showed her the
hidden keystone to this, too. She started to touch the thing and electricity
zipped between her fingers and the stone, shocking her. She fell back on her
bottom with an outraged cry.
    Bossgond
creaked a laugh, helped her up, dusted off her seat and strode off in another
direction. As they walked, Bossgond told her about his island.
    He
had demonstrated the strongest Power in several generations when he was a
youngster and had piqued the interest of the Powerful Mortig. The choice of
islands was always given to the most Powerful first. Bossgond had held Alf
Island for many years.
    Alf
was about a hundred miles across and had everything a person would want—fresh
streams full of fish, hills, forests, glades. His tower was near enough to the
coast and a small harbor to appreciate the waves without being threatened by
any flooding or crumbling ground. A paradise to Bossgond.
    It
sounded pretty good to Marian, too, though she was sure she’d miss mountains.
    She
thought back to when she’d hovered over the island. The shape was a little like
Australia.
    After
an hour-and-a-half walk they came to a depression