Love is anterior to life,
Posterior to death,
Initial of creation, and
The exponent of breath.
                                   -- Emily Dickinson

The Exponent of Breath

© 2000, Grace Macy

Prologue

Things are seldom what they seem.  Ricenne had learned that lesson early on in her life, but her training as a sorceress had reinforced it.  In her world, illusions could have the density of life, life itself could be melded . . . and love could appear as suddenly as the sun through the clouds.  It could also cause pain greater than any weapon she had learned to create.  That lesson she had learned far more recently.

Sharak was the son of King Epherin of the Liunde people, a shapeshifter and sorcerer.  Man and eagle, gifted in the arts they had been learning for years; and for those years, Ricenne had never felt this way.  He had been a friend, sometimes a mentor, always just . . . Sharak.  Until recently.  Ricenne would pay dearly to know when exactly her emotions had shifted in such an alarming way; if she knew that, she could avoid all the pain that now overwhelmed her.

For Sharak was not in love with her.

The prince of the Liunde was in love, instead, with the sorceress Amerys.  Not that Ricenne blamed him, as she reflected bitterly.  Why would Sharak -- or any man -- not be in love with Amerys?  She was tall and beautiful, with hair like sunlight and power greater than nearly any sorcerer in history -- the Ancient One himself favored her, praised her constantly.  Ricenne, on the other hand, was small and slight, with hair as dark as Sharak's own that refused to stay in any braid and yet would not fall gloriously about her shoulders as Amerys' did.  But worst of it all was that Amerys was as much a friend as Sharak, and she was clearly in love with him as well.

So far, the Ancient One and the other sorcerers had not noticed that fact, but to Ricenne, whose heart beat an echo to the emotions of the two sorcerers, it was painfully clear.  She had been told by the Ancient One that such an emotion was forbidden to sorcerers if they wished to continue their studies and keep their powers.  Sharak and Amerys had been told the same thing, but the heart was clearly not as easy a thing to control as their magick.  Ricenne wondered how the Ancient One could give such advice when it was impossible to heed it.

The spirit, patron and teacher of sorcerers, had been like a father to them since they each came to study.  Ricenne had been twelve years old when her family, afraid of her power to heal and to create illusions, had left her in the forest one day -- that act of comparative mercy had stopped the rest of the village from stoning her.  Amerys had been five and almost not as lucky, since her natural powers were greater.  The Ancient One had saved them both and brought them to the Sorcerers City to learn and expand their power.

Sharak had been the only one sent by his people without fear -- but not without ambition.  His father wanted a sorcerer in the family, to help protect their lands.  He was fifteen when he arrived.  Perhaps it was natural, then, that his influence should so deeply touch the two young women, for neither of them would have known love without first feeling his compassion.  He had been a friend when all they had known before was competition and the thrill of learning new magick.  He had shown them how to learn from one another without fear of being left behind, how to build a friendship -- something neither woman was familiar with after all this time.

Amerys had been with the Ancient One for nearly a hundred years, though she looked to be only in her twenties -- the first bit of magick any sorcerer learned.  Ricenne was many years younger: seventy-eight, but appearing to be eighteen.  Amerys had chosen her age's appearance, but Ricenne had been able to freeze time only to the age she was upon learning that little trick.  And then Sharak had appeared and all magick seemed to pale in comparison.  He was handsome, but they had known handsome men before, seduced many of them in fact.  What it was about Sharak, precisely, that slowly enthralled both women over the next decade was a mystery to both of them -- but only Amerys had the good fortune to have that blossoming of love returned.

Ricenne had watched them together with a maelstrom of emotions in her heart, some familiar, some not -- all of them utterly confusing.  She wanted Sharak desperately, would have done anything for him, sacrificed everything just to be with him and have him look at her as he looked at Amerys.  And yet, she couldn't make herself use magick on or against either of them to achieve those goals.  It was, she would discover later, the true reason the Ancient One and the other sorcerers had forbidden love.  With love came the capacity for sympathy, with sympathy came compassion, with compassion came a reluctance to do harm, a knowledge and respect for what was right or wrong -- and much of a sorcerer's power came from things that could be seen as wrong.

But Ricenne cared about none of that now.  She hurt, deep in her heart, constantly; she would have done anything to stop that pain.  So she went to the one person she knew and trusted who could explain it all and perhaps, in doing so, make that pain go away.

The Ancient One was readily available when one of his students needed him, but he was prepared for curiosity about a spell or a newly discovered ability -- not the raw  pain he saw in Ricenne's eyes and felt in a steady wash from her mind.  He frowned as he materialized on the rocks beside the woman's favorite spot by the River.  "What is wrong, child?" he asked, confused as well as slightly irritated.  He thought he had taught his students to bear pain better than this, which concerned him all the more from the implication of how greatly she must have been hurt.

Ricenne gave him a shaky smile.  "I am . . . confused, teacher."  She sighed and hugged herself as he approached.  "You told me once that love is forbidden to sorcerers.  That it was powerful in its way but useless."

"Yes. . ."  The Ancient One frowned.  "Why does that confuse you?"

Ricenne shook her head.  "That doesn't.  I see how powerful it is.  It . . . hurts, teacher.  But how can we stop something so powerful?"  Tears gathered in her green eyes, shining in the pale afternoon sunlight.  "I've tried, Ancient One," she said.  "I've tried to  not feel . . . this.  But I can't -- and I can't make it stop  hurting . . ."

The Ancient One frowned, his expression growing cold.  "What are you saying?"

Ricenne looked at him, startled by his tone, but ignored it.  This was her teacher, her friend, the spirit that had been like a father to her for nearly a century.  "I have fallen in love with Sharak," she said slowly, ashamed at seeing the glowing anger and disapproval in her mentor's eyes.  "I didn't mean for it to happen, teacher!  It just  did!  How can we avoid something like that?  If he loved me in return, it surely would not be like this, it would not hurt this way . . . but he doesn't."  She looked away, talking mostly to herself now, trying to reason out aloud the strange whirl of emotions in her heart.  "If his heart was simply not mine, I could still hope.  I could still figure out some way to gain it.  But it's not.  It's been given to someone else -- that's what hurts the most, I think.  That he prefers her to me."

Suddenly a hand was wrapped about her arm, turning her around with a hard tug, power coursing through the Ancient One's fingers to burn into her flesh.  Ricenne cried out, surprised and confused, but the Ancient One didn't seem to notice or care.  His eyes flashed with power and fury.  "Sharak also knows love?  With whom?"

Ricenne stared at him, anxiety beginning to rise in her heart.  "I --" she started, then stopped, trying desperately to think of some answer that would calm him.  Gods above and below, what had she done?!  She had never seen him so angry!  "I don't --"

"Don't lie to me, girl!" he hissed.  "I warned you!  I told you that love was forbidden to your kind, but you ignored the laws!  Now tell me who else has broken faith!"  She shook her head mutely; the Ancient One gripped her arm harder and pulled her closer to him, his eyes aglow.  "Tell me, girl, or I will take the knowledge from your mind myself."

Ricenne's eyes widened.  For the first time since she was a child, she knew true fear.  The Ancient One's threat was real; he could rip the knowledge from her mind, she had seen him do it before.  Still, she hesitated.  If he was this angry, would resort to hurting her . . . what would he do to Sharak?  And to Amerys if he knew Sharak's love was returned?

The Ancient One's power slammed against her mind, battering her psychic and magickal shields.  And in that instant, as her fear for her friend and her beloved overwhelmed her, his power slipped past her struggle to keep him out.  The Ancient One let out a low, animal-like hiss, and threw Ricenne away from him with a look of fury and disgust.  The woman stumbled, reeling from the pain and disorientation of the invasion of her mind.  Before she could even right herself, there was a flash of light and they were within the central courtyard of the City.  "You will wait here for our judgement," the Ancient One said harshly, and vanished.

Ricenne stared at where he had stood, then slowly sank down onto a moss-covered stone bench.  She hugged her pale robes about herself, suddenly feeling very cold and very alone.  And very, very afraid.  Her fear grew as Sharak winked into existence in the courtyard.  He looked at her with huge green-hued eyes and demanded, "Ricenne, what's happening?"

She shook her head, too overwhelmed by emotion to speak.  Sharak frowned, taking in the look of shock in her eyes, and approached her.  He sat down next to the slender woman and turned her head with gentle fingers under her chin.  "Ricenne," he prompted softly.  "What has happened?  The Ancient One -- I've never seen him so angry."

Ricenne looked at him, barely taking in the handsome face that had haunted her dreams for so many nights, the ebony hair and the trademark brushing of feathers at his temples and ears.  She shook her head again, but managed to speak this time, though only in a whisper.  "I didn't know," she whispered.

Sharak frowned.  "Know what?"  He was afraid of the Ancient One's anger, but he was also concerned for his friend; she had always seemed such an odd mix of fragility and strength, but his upbringing tended to focus on the fragility, wanting to protect her in much the same way he wished to protect his lover, Amerys.  If the Ancient One hurt either woman, Sharak swore the spirit would pay dearly.

"I thought he meant it as a guideline," she told him, her voice speeding up with urgency.  "I went to him for advice, for an explanation of love, of why it could hurt . . ."

Sharak's heart froze.  "What did you tell him, Ricenne?"

"Gods, Sharak, I never thought he would be  angry.  I swear, I didn't know -- I didn't mean --"

"What did you tell him?!" Sharak asked again, urgently.

Ricenne's eyes were wide, but she looked away in fear and shame at herself for such naivete.  "I told him only that I was confused about love, about you . . . then he was so angry.  I was afraid for you, and for Amerys, and he . . . saw."

"Saw?" the shape-shifter repeated.  He was too alarmed by the implications of all this to wonder at her first words.

Ricenne didn't look at him.  "He took the knowledge from my mind.  Of you and Amerys."

Sharak's face paled.  "He knows about us?  He knows --"

"I know you broke faith," the Ancient One's voice reverberated in the courtyard.  "You defied the laws."

Sharak and Ricenne turned to face the spirit as he materialized.  "Love is not something one chooses!" Sharak snapped.  "We've done nothing--"  He stopped and shook his head fiercely.  "What have you done with Amerys?  Why is she not here?"

The Ancient One smiled coldly.  "Because she has already chosen her punishment.  Amerys will be a great sorceress.  She knows her priorities."

"What are you talking about?"  Sharak's hands flexed, as if trying not to reach out and grab the spirit.

"She has chosen to continue her pursuits, her path, as if this . . . incident . . . never happened."  The Ancient One smiled; there was something predatory about it.  "She will forget.  You may do the same, if you wish.  It will be allowed."

Sharak stared at him, uncomprehending.  "I -- How?  How can she forget?  We love one another -- that cannot be erased, even by you!"

The spirit chuckled.  "No?" he asked.  "What is love without the memory of that emotion?  Or of the man who caused it?"

Ricenne's eyes widened even as Sharak shook his head mutely.  "She wouldn't do that," Ricenne whispered.  "She couldn't!"

The spirit's gaze turned to her.  "She could and she did."

(continued)

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