by G. H. Duval
What will Kas Mina think of me in this, he wondered, and he forcibly took hold of his Aspect, which urged him to move at even greater speed. His master had been very clear that he was not to wield his affinity without an Instructor present. Should he fail to obey this edict, a governing band might become part of his existence. Even without Coerdan heritage, Mori had quickly understood the function of, and developed a healthy disgust for, the menacing amethyst cuffs.
He entered the hall, bypassing the long queue snaking from the board at the back, and went directly to the beverage station. He fixed the dark currant tea of which he was so fond and stopped at another less popular station for a bowl of berries before going directly to the table where he and Mina met most mornings. Though her lessons might keep her from joining him several days a week, he assumed that today—with all lessons suspended—he could count on seeing her. Perhaps they could attend the ceremony together…
But Mina was not at their customary place. Instead, he found Dodge awaiting him, a knowing smile on his lips.
“Morning, Mori,” he said warmly as Mori dropped onto the bench across from him. Mori made no effort to hide his dismay that Dodge was not the company he’d hoped for.
“Good morning, Dodge,” he said, simply, stirring a bit of honey into his tea.
“I see you’ve been clued in on the big day,” Dodge said, looking pointedly at Mori’s robe. Dodge, for his part, also wore a robe. Made of fine wool, it was a light cream hue with the symbol of the Firsts woven into the right breast. Like Mori’s robe, the silver ring symbolizing Air had been set apart in a shining ban of satin.
“But by the long face, friend, I think you’ve perhaps not been let in on the most important parts.”
“Eh?” Mori asked as he brought the tea to his lips, knowing he was being peevish but unable to staunch his disappointment. It had been three days since he’d last seen Mina.
Three days too many.
Dodge swallowed the last bite of his porridge, chased it down with the frothing concoction of milk and egg yolks Coerdans seemed to favor at breakfast, and wiped his mouth. He cleared his throat and waited for Mori to stop pouting long enough to make eye contact.
“Oh, very well!” Mori conceded, setting down his tea and exaggeratedly holding Dodge’s gaze. “You’ve my attention!”
“In your homeland, when it is time for a new Emperor to assume the throne, how do you mark such an occasion?”
Mori blinked, baffled at what seemed a bizarre and tangential shift in their conversation.
“I’ve no idea why you’re asking, but I will humor you,” he responded, curiosity outstripping his irritation. “We hold a coronation. Everyone in the realm of any quality or standing pours into Sheng-Derzei to witness the crowning of our new Emperor.”
“I see,” Dodge said, his tone nonchalant. “And while we’ve no Emperor or Empress in Coerdom, we do have our First Seer, no? Would you not say that her successor’s naming would be equally as important as one of your coronations?”
“Yes, yes, Dodge,” he waved his hands in time with his words, as if to banish the irritation he felt. “I’ve learned all about the Naming Ceremony. And I’m looking forward to attending it, but what has that do with me? Or what I should have been told? Or why Mina isn’t here, for that matter!”
He glared and Dodge, one of the few people Mori trusted completely. The two spent the majority of their time training together, and Dodge—only Dodge—shared Mori’s secret regarding Mina. But Dodge said nothing more, simply holding his gaze steadily.
And then it came to him. Mori shivered and his fingers grew cold even while his face turned hot. Mina’s absence took on an entirely new context.
“You can’t mean to suggest,” he began, but Dodge interjected.
“Mori…she is a named Candidate for First. The only Candidate. Yes, at 13, she’s very young. Far younger than any other Seer in Waiting we’ve had, but…well, everyone’s been whispering about her since the day she arrived! Even you’d to have heard the rumors. How she’s the Headmistress’s pet—the First’s pet, even. And more so, about what she is said to be able to do! Are you telling me that you’ve heard none of that? That’s she let slip nothing in all your cozy little breakfast meetings?”
Mori flushed even harder, mortified at what Dodge implied and yet thrilled that someone else acknowledged his close relationship with Mina.
“Well, I…that is to say…” He stammered, racing for a suitable reply before admitting defeat.
“Is she truly that powerful, Dodge? The next First?”
Mori stared at his friend and brother-in-training, desperate for the answer and yet terrified to hear it. For if it were true, and Mina really was to be the next First Seer, he had to assume she would be taken from him. That her days would soon be filled with the business of preparing her for ascension, and the likes of Mori would be banished in place of finding her Formynder.
Perhaps worse, if she was the Mother of Humanity in Waiting, who was to say that she had not already devised what he thought of her…what he couldn’t stop thinking of her? What might she already be thinking of him and his now preposterous-seeming fantasies where she was concerned?
“Skies and swirls, Mori!” Dodge exclaimed, clapping him hard against one shoulder. “Cheer up! It’s not as if being named the next First is a death sentence! Hirute in all His names,” Dodge chortled, clearly enjoying Mori’s misery.
“I’ve known Mina all her life,” he pressed on, relentless. “She’s not the type to forget her friends because she’s discovered she’s a wee bit important.” He winked. “Alright, perhaps she’s soon to be, well…the most important girl in the world. But she won’t forget us small folk who befriended her along the way.”
Mori crossed his arms and scowled. “That is most unhelpful, Dodge.”
He shrugged. “You’re right, I’m having a bit of fun at your expense. But only because I can. Only because there is nothing to worry about. I promise you! Yes, she’ll be our leader someday, but only when First Seer Siare is ready to step down. In the meantime, Mina will be stuck with the rest of us. Going to lessons, struggling with niche, and so forth.”
“Lessons with the First Seer, herself, however! With the Headmistress. And learning to do what, precisely? To read our minds? To reach across leagues and dispatch justice? How can you be so glib?”
Dodge shrugged. “It’s just the way of our world, Mori. We Coerdans are long accustomed to our quirks, however extreme they might seem to others. I can tell you one thing,” he paused, and all the playfulness of his manner vanished. His tone, his eyes, the set of his jaw…all turned serious.
“I know what it is to have others decide for you what you are, what you’ll be based on their perceptions of your power. And I can tell you this, my friend. It most certainly does not feel right to be judged so.”
He let his words hang between them until Mori nodded, understanding dawning on him. Mina would need those who knew her before her Naming. She would need Mori to remind her that she was still Mina and not just the Seer her nation needed her to be.
“I see,” he breathed.
“Good. My advice, friend, is to go on as if nothing has changed unless or until Mina indicates otherwise.”
Again, Mori nodded. It seemed like very reasonable advice to him.
“You should eat those berries quickly. All the best places to watch will fill fast!”
*
Dodge had been right. By the time Mori had finished his meager breakfast and they’d made their way off the Steading’s grounds to Coer’s Accord—the very First Accord, as it were—the throng was too large to measure. They crested the final rise overlooking the heart of Coer’s oldest and most esteemed section—the Firsts’ Ward—and Mori hesitated, gawping at the crowd. Dodge, for his part, marched along unfazed. He moved off a few strides, following the road down and away from Mori, then stopped, looking about in confusion when he realized he was walking alone. He turned, looking back up the path a
t Mori with raised brows. After a moment, his eyes widened slightly and he nodded, returning to where Mori stood.
“It’s alright, Mori,” he said, leaning in. “Look more closely,” he directed, pointing to the throng below.
“Coerdom is unlike other nations,” he explained, his voice taking on the patient cadence Mori had come to think of as Dodge’s tutoring voice. Dodge was often called upon to parse Coerdan culture for Mori’s benefit, and it was a role he had embraced. Mori was not certain, had their roles been reversed, that he would be half so gracious as Dodge had been.
“We are a varied people, our Firsts charged with acting as Stewards for humanity—not just for those sworn to them. It is an unusual position to hold, to be sure. To be responsible for the well-being of those who offer you no fealty and provide no support. But our God calls them to this task nonetheless, and many who are unable to thrive in their own lands find their way to ours—trusting in the oaths our Firsts have taken.”
Mori tried to absorb what Dodge was trying to tell him. In theory, he’d learned all of this in niche, but seeing it for himself—away from the Steading and the mandated tolerance within—was another thing altogether. Such diversity was not something he witnessed in his own lands, and the nervousness that had washed over him when he’d first glimpsed the milling crowd below eased a bit.
“Do you see,” Dodge asked, still gesturing to the multitude, “how so many of our people came originally from elsewhere? Our largest cities have become largely blended places, and nowhere is that truer than right here in Coer.”
He paused, ensuring Mori was keeping up. “You will not be remarked, not even bearing the mark of an au Ciele.”
Mori nodded, impressed and relieved that Dodge had correctly guessed the source of his unease.
“But I am not of any Coerdan heritage,” Mori persisted. “Any who look upon my features will see a Kirin in Shepherd’s garb. An actual Kirin Shepherd…” His voice trailed off. He wanted to believe Dodge that all would be well, but he recalled too keenly how long it had taken even his fellow, better-informed Shepherds-in-training to accept the puzzle that he represented.
“It will be alright,” Dodge repeated, resting a hand on Mori’s shoulder. “Do you think the Formynder would have allowed your leaving the Steading if he doubted your safety in any measure? Just stay with me. You will see.” He smiled the full, irascible smile for which Dodge was best known, and Mori found himself smiling back—caught up in Dodge’s relish for what lay ahead. And with that, they moved down the slope and were enveloped in the current of bodies.
Mori was no stranger to such a throng, as he’d resided in none other than the jostling, bustling capital of Sheng-Derzei. Granted, he’d often traveled by palanquin, but he was no delicate lady to be coddled. He would soon celebrate his thirteenth name-day and begin his initiation into manhood. He stood straighter, shoulders squared, and boldly followed Dodge’s lead.
The roads were clogged with common folk, well-to-do merchants, and a smattering of Shepherds. Mori was not certain where, precisely, Dodge was leading them. He knew from his studies that the ceremony would take place within the Accord, but with so many already gathered before the towering structure, there could be no hope of finding a place inside. Once he’d glimpsed the size of the crowd, Mori had assumed they’d be taking up positions within the gardens or on the grassy banks bordering the Accord and await Mina’s appearance as she exited, following the conclusion of the ceremony. But Dodge doggedly forged ahead, twining through those clustered about them, moving them closer and closer to the Accord.
They moved to within strides of the Accord’s entrance, and Mori felt the buzzing tug that was his Aspect’s urging for release. A moment later, he saw that Dodge’s eyes were glowing.
He is channeling! In public!
Yet, no calamity fell upon them. Though the space was heavily policed by black-and-silver clad Steadies, none came forward to apprehend them or threaten a governor. No one, in fact, started or screamed or demanded that he stop. Those closest to Dodge nodded respectfully, many going so far as to bow or bob a quick curtsy as they took in his robe and pulsing eyes.
“Pardon, Goodman,” Dodge murmured as he pushed forward. “Please make way, Mistress…” And so it went. People melted away from them with blessings, some even reached out to touch them lightly as they passed.
They reached the entrance to the Accord’s outer gates—the gardens visible through the wrought-iron spindles—to find the entire perimeter of the structure rimmed by sober-looking Steadies. Four armed Steadies blocked the entrance, and Mori held his breath as Dodge led them directly to this group.
Without a word, the Steadies moved aside and pushed the gates open. Dodge pressed a fist to his right breast and nodded to the men as he moved through the gates. Mori hurried to mimic him and thrilled when the Steadies returned the salute.
“What was that?” Mori asked, marveling, when they’d moved out of earshot of the guards and joined the queue leading to the Accord’s massive double-doored entrance.
“That, my friend,” Dodge began, grinning as he released his Aspect and his eyes returned to their normal deep-hued blue, “is one of the rare occasions being a Shepherd delivers advantages instead of restriction and responsibility. This is one of the few times that we’re expected to show our strength…when our people revel in our power—the power we wield in service to them. Today, the wonder of finding a First is upon them, and they forget their fear of us. Even if but briefly.”
Mori gaped, wishing he’d known sooner that he would have been permitted to channel! He was so rarely given leave to commune with his Aspect. He groaned softly, then let it go. Too late now…
“What are the other times,” Mori asked, curious, as they cleared the steps and were ushered through the doors into the Accord’s main chamber. But the chamber was so splendid, he forgot himself completely. Owing to his father’s high position, he’d had the opportunity to visit his Emperor’s palace—particularly the towering Royal Hall. And, yet, he was unprepared for the sheer beauty before him.
A long hall rolled from the entrance, and a wide aisle stretched between a sea of pews that terminated at a raised dais at the impossibly far-away end. Upon the dais was a sculpture in jade of the stylized rod and staff of the Great Shepherd. Above the dais was another, larger sculpture, carved directly into the marble of the ceiling itself, of a figure who could only be Hirute. His arms were outstretched, issuing forth his power to five figures in supplication before him. Presumably, the very first Shepherds ever created.
The far walls on either side of the cavernous chamber were broken by intricately carved alcoves, which housed sculptures of Shepherds from every affinity caught in various acts of heroism. Glancing up, he lost count at a dozen chandeliers decorated in pale, lavender silks that drenched the space in warm, flickering light.
The aisle boasted a vibrant purple runner, bordered in shimmering gold thread. The pews, like the chandeliers, were accented in silk bunting in alternating lavender and violet twists of fabric. Woven throughout the silks were bursts of colorful flowers—the deep purple of crocuses, the mauve of lenten rose, and the violet pop of winter-heath. Directly to Mori’s left was a staircase that twirled away, curving up and up. A matching staircase curled away on the right.
“Well, there are the monthly Declaration ceremonies, of course,” Dodge offered from over his shoulder, as he recaptured Mori’s attention and led the way up the narrow steps to the upper galleries. “Then there’s the naming of the next Formynder, and, as you’d expect, when he and the First Seer are wed.”
Mori’s breath caught, but he cleared his throat quickly to cover it. His stomach knotted. When he and the First Seer are wed.
They were ushered along until they reached the benches reserved for au Cieles. As Dodge had predicted, the benches offered few vacant spaces, so they took the first empty spaces that would allow them to be seated together regardless of the view to the action below.
The au Feurs filled the benches to their left, and the au Leauxs and au Terres were gathered across the open space in the upper galleries directly facing them. Below, the grandeur of the First Accord’s nave gleamed from both lamplight and the sunlight breaking through scores of stained-glass windows placed high above.
The pews to either side of the aisle were full and buzzing with the good and the great. Men and women arrayed in fine silks and furs sporting the crests of the Coerdan Great Houses commanded the pews closest to the dais. Visiting dignitaries and extremely wealthy merchants were seated directly behind them, and the last of the pews were filled with the Steading’s Instructors.
By force of habit, Mori’s eyes sought and easily found Beast Warden Savantha. For once, the dark-skinned woman was dressed in a garment appropriate to the season much less the occasion—her sparse, arm-baring leathers nowhere in sight.
A sound caught his attention, pulling his thoughts from the Warden. It rose softly at first, then grew in intensity. Mori looked about then leaned forward to find that there was another box beneath the gallery across from him. It was filled with boys of varying ages, but all seemed close to Mori’s own age. They were dressed in matching white-and-violet robes and they were, of all things, singing! Mori did not recognize the music, but it was light and sweet. The sound of their voices was beautiful—several joined in unison while others offered complex harmonies.
Dodge noticed Mori staring and made a pointing motion, indicating a space below them. “There’s another choir below us. You’re hearing them, too.”
The singing continued as the Accord filled. After what seemed an age, the enormous entrance doors were pushed shut, and the choir fell silent. A woman moved from the area behind the rod-and-staff sculpture to stand in the center of the dais. She stood, erect and proud, in twinkling grey robes and let her gaze sweep the vast assembly. Almost as one, the assembled rose to their feet, Mori scrambling to follow suit.