“You have my word,” Lorn promised.
“I don't think we would have it any other way Ju, would you?” Tarim said from the doorway.
Zya turned towards him. “Good morning father.”
“Good morning and also goodbye, by the looks of it,” he replied. “There is a young lady waiting down in the workshop that says she is of your order, and she has arrived to accompany you back for your training.”
This was a surprise, for Zya knew the way back to the guild well enough. She raised her eyebrows. “Okay. Why would somebody come to accompany me?”
“Better not keep her waiting, and go find out,” Lorn replied. “Stay safe.”
“I will see you both soon,” she said, placing a hand on their shoulders, and walked out with her father.
Zya descended the stairs to the workshop with a mixture of trepidation and intrigue. Why would they believe, even for an instant, that there was any need to do such a thing was beyond her. Zya had repeatedly proved that she was committed to the order, and fully intended to remain with them, right guild or not. She left her hair tied back as it had been the night before. The severity of her face might reflect upon the gravity of the situation, and convince whatever high-ranking member of the order was down there that she was serious about the tasks that lay ahead of her. Tarim had preceded her back to the workshop, but had not mentioned anything about her visitor. In fact he had stayed quiet. Before he opened the door he turned, and caught her in a bear hug. Zya squeezed back. Shows of affection were rare from her father, and therefore all the more special. He held her at arm's length for a moment, looking into her eyes; the eyes that he had recently said were so like her mother's. “Be careful, daughter. There are many dangers out there.” He exuded the quiet confidence that was typical of both of them.
“I will, father.” There was nothing more that she could say for reassurance. They both knew the risks that one took when stepping out of the door, especially in a city that was so full of hazards as Bay's Point. The strange thing was that it seemed less of a danger, and more like home. Now that she had been here a while, the city seemed less strange and its people less outlandish and hostile. They were just different, but different in no other way than any other village or town that they had stopped at as travellers. Tarim was evidently satisfied with her simple promise, and took it as written. He turned back to the door and opened it into the workshop. Zya followed through, meek as was expected of a novice, looking down at the floor in respect for whoever was there.
“Zya, this is Bethen Duie, of your order.” The girl that stood there could not have been any older than she, not at all what Zya had been expecting. Bethen was as sunny and golden as Zya was dark, with pale yellow hair framing her face. She was shorter than Zya, but not by much. Freckles randomly dispersed over her nose and cheeks gave her the disposition of one recently returned from gathering crops in the field. Her inner instinct confirmed that this person would become a friend.
“Hi,” was all she said, in a light, lilting voice that was almost musical.
“Hello,.” Zya replied. To fend off the awkward silence that would inevitably follow such short greetings, Zya took the first step. “Shall we go?”
“I guess we had better,” Bethen replied. This surprised Zya, for it seemed that the girl was not speaking from a position of authority, but more of subservience.
Zya looked back at her father, who was already setting about his work once more. “I will make it back as soon as I can, father.”
He beamed a proud smile at her in return. “You will do fine, Zya. I am sure of it. Be well.”
With a wave, Zya followed Bethen out of the carpentry, and into the sunny morning. As they walked in initial silence, the early signs of spring were all about them. Birds swooped and chirped, trying to lay claim to the rare trees that popped up around the city streets. The weather was clement, a warm breeze from the South beating off the predominant northerly. As they walked through the rapidly filling streets, Zya just let the city ambience wash over her.
“You like it here,” Bethen observed, watching her. It was partly a question, partly a statement.
“I do,” Zya admitted, as much to herself as to Bethen. “I never thought that I would, but the city has a certain character, one that I have taken my time getting used to.”
They walked on in silence, watching the merchants hurrying to market and the small shops that opened up from the walls of buildings. Dogs chased in the streets, a riotous tussle with children, barking and squeals of delight all round. Zya adored the simple joy people could get out of a bit of fun, and felt better for basking in the all too brief glow that it provided. Her mind turned then to her present company, and the reason for it. “May I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” Bethen replied with a completely straight face. Zya gave a scowl of mock-frustration, and Bethen broke into a smile and a laugh. “Please, ask another.”
Zya resumed walking, for they had stopped when the children and dogs wrestled past them. “Why did the guild send you to accompany me back?”
Bethen's face lost its glow, and dropped into one of thought, comprehension, and finally shock mixed with understanding. “Oh I am so sorry Zya. I didn't realise that was what you had thought of my being here. I am not here to accompany you, well not in any official capacity.”
“Well why did you come?”
Bethen resumed her smile, which Zya found to be infectious and full of good humour. “I had occasion to be visiting one of the tribal boys, and saw you enter the building. I asked said person if he knew anything, and he told me about you. The robes were enough, but it was only when I came calling that I realised what you actually were.”
“What I am?” Zya said as she sidestepped a particularly vigorous old woman who seemed hell-bent on shouldering as many people out of the way as possible.
“The illusion you wrought yesterday. I was there in the gathering that witnessed your coming. The like has never been seen before, nor will it again probably. It has already gone into the annals of the guild to be treasured, and all witnesses were called upon to give account.”
“I didn't realise that it was such a big deal.” Zya said, now slightly overawed about the previous afternoon's events. She had no way of explaining to Bethen that it was not a big deal to her. It seemed best just to ride with the interest, and hope that it dwindled.
“Well consider my own first attempt.” Bethen replied. “I managed to create the image of a tree. Not a big image, but a wavering small image just off of the ground. It was called a 'good start' by my tutor, who at the time was in charge of several initiates.”
“Ralnor?”
Bethen nodded in agreement. “The very same. He looks after all initiates, and always finds more. Nobody knows how, he just seems to have incredible luck. Anyway, my first focus was about the same size and strength as any others had been, nothing particularly amazing. Then you came along, and lit the whole chamber purple, with stars and swirls of mist and goodness knows what else swirling around in there. Your illusion was so real that even the master could not get through to you at first.”
Zya remembered not being able to see the man, at least for a while. She had thought that he was controlling the illusion rather than she herself. Obviously she was wrong. “How long have you been at the guild?” She asked, hoping to change the subject.
Bethen warmed to the question. Talking was apparently one of her strong points. “A little more than half a year, or a season, depending on where in the Duchies you are from. Where are you from?”
Zya shook her head. “I don't know. I have been with travellers all of my life until recently.”
“Tinkers?” Bethen replied in surprise. “Oh how wonderful. Think of all the places you must have seen. All the country roads you must have travelled. I lived in a village just out of the city until Ralnor Scott recruited me. I have never been more than ten leagues in any direction from the city walls.”
It was at this moment
that Zya felt sorry for the bubbly girl. All the things she had missed by the misfortune to live close to all she needed. The girl would never have been able to imagine what it was like to see each sunrise over a different hill, or to follow a river from source to mouth just because it followed the same route. “Maybe one day you will get a chance to travel further.”
Surprisingly, Bethen shuddered when presented with the scenario. “Oh no, I could never do that Zya. Everything I want and need is right here in this city. I couldn't leave all of that behind, not for anything.”
“Not even your order? What if you were commanded to go?”
Bethen blanched. “I don't know what I would do, to be honest. Until I met you, nobody had ever made me entertain the thought that I might leave this city for good.”
“Is that not what the orders are for?” Zya posed the question carefully, sure that despite the fact that she was obviously clever, Bethen was naïve to the point that her whims sounded childish. “Are they not to train us to use our skills and go out into the Duchies and aid those that need it?”
“Once, perhaps that was the case. No longer will that ever happen, not since the accursed Law Guild tried to force everybody under their yoke.”
”Are you referring to the Old Law?”
Bethen came to some sort of a decision, as if she had overstepped her mark. “It is not for me to say, really. It is just my opinion. I think the Law guild has corrupted the Old Law, and it doesn't mean anything anymore.”
“Tell that to the countless farms and villages away from the city, who follow its every rule,” Zya thought, aware that she was treading painfully close to something the girl did not want to talk about. It was time to change the subject. “Are you looking forward to the Feast?”
Bethen's smile lit up once more, and she instantly forgot that she had ever been talking sedition. “It is going to be the highlight of my life! Introduction to the Duke and the royal family! Oh what a pleasure, what an honour. I have got my best dress ready. It is going to be fantastic. Have you got a dress?”
Zya shook her head, looking around her as they crossed the invisible boundary between the rest of the city and the guild quarter. They passed the great grey monolith of the stonemasons guild, which now stood in a state of disrepair as less and less stone was needed from this side of the river. Many members had taken up alternative careers, or just left the city altogether. Over the road, the building that had once belonged to the woodcutters guild was now being taken over by a band of men in red tunics, what guild they were Zya could not even hope to guess. “I will probably just wear my order colours.”
“Oh no, we shall get you a fine ball gown Zya, with ribbons and satin to offset your beautiful dark hair!” Dressing and ostentation seemed to be Bethen's favourite past time, and as they strolled slowly through the morning crowds, Zya was dressed with Bethen's imagination. Zya didn't have the heart to tell her that she cared not for these things, and it didn't hurt to keep quiet. Whatever the outcome of her flights of fancy, it seemed to Zya that Bethen didn't have the slightest care in the world, and that in itself was admirable. To have revealed that there may well be a problem with the Feast of Growth, and the possible but tenuous links to the mercenary guild would probably result in confusion and widespread panic. Zya knew better than to attempt reasoning an argument with somebody more concerned with dress material than what was actually going on in the wide world around her.
Zya found herself paying more and more attention to her surroundings, and less to Bethen. For her part, Bethen seemed not to notice, keeping up her dialogue and mentally dressing Zya like some little girl's doll. The buildings grew in stature as they moved towards the middle of the quarter, each becoming larger and looming ever greater above its neighbours. An ill feeling began to manifest itself within her stomach, and Zya knew that they were approaching the mercenary halls. Subtly, she steered Bethen clear of the streets leading up to the building, though the girl seemed not to notice where she was, leaving Zya to get them there. The ill feeling receded as they bypassed the guild, and the loss of that sensation was welcomed by Zya, The relief in her face was probably not even noticed by her companion, who had moved on to the best type of velvet shoe for dancing. Zya could honestly say that she had never danced a step in her life but instead of voicing this fact she nodded in agreement, and made the appropriate noises when Bethen actually thought to ask her opinion. They had edged through the maze of guild buildings until they were actually on the side of the quarter exposed to the view of the Ducal Palace. From so far off, it dominated the skyline with the palace structure surrounded by what seemed like a small city of its own. Again Zya marvelled at the place, and was truly in awe of the fact that she was going to go there. “Do you know if the Feast is restricted to the palace itself?” She caused Bethen to pause mid-sentence, thus preventing her from completing her monologue on the best frills to add to the hems of dresses.
“The feast is an immense event,” Bethen replied. “From what I have been told, it cannot be contained in one building, and so they spread it around the entire complex. Why?”
“I just wondered what else was in there.” Zya looked up at the rooftops of the complex as she murmured her response.
“Nothing that they will let you see, any road,” Bethen stated. “That is the worst part of the whole affair, the shepherding. They usher you from one room to another, guards everywhere. The Duke values his privacy, you see.”
“Sounds a bit more of an ordeal than you have made it out to be,” Zya observed.
Bethen laughed, that sunny sound that could not help but lift Zya's spirits. “An ordeal would be the best phrase for it, but it is worth it. No other time will you get to mingle so closely with those in a position of power. No other place will you ever be able to show yourself off, and make an impression.”
Zya knew now that there was more to this simple sounding girl than she had first thought. There was a term for what Bethen had just described, and Zya wondered to herself as they walked why such a grand event would be nothing more than a fancy cattle market. She was intending to go there and show herself off, try to find a suitor perhaps. That was not any plan Zya wanted to be a part of, for she felt that only bad would come of it. Shortly, they rounded one of the adjacent guild houses to find their own. Zya recognised the street as the one she could see from her window. She turned, and sure enough, the tower of the palace was visible in the distance. It was nice to see the place she had just started to think of as her home once more. It was strange to her that she could have so many homes, almost wandering from one to another like a drifting hobo.
As they walked under the shadow of the guild, where the sun was hidden by its bulk, Bethen stopped her. “Listen, I know that I came and found you all of my own accord, but please believe that it was only because I wanted to get to know you. People are in awe of what you did, and I was afraid that I would not have the chance.”
“Why not?” Asked Zya, baffled by this sudden change in attitude and demeanour. “Why can't we talk in there?”
“We can't talk in there because of the training you are about to undergo. You could be isolated from everybody else for as long as six months!”
“But I am attending the Feast,” Zya replied, a little put out because of what she had already been told. “Joen said so.”
“I suppose that will depend upon your training then,” Bethen replied. “You have a lot to learn between now and then. If we don't meet until that time, then I wish you well, and try to remember me.”
“I will,” Zya promised. “It was nice to have met you in the outside world.”
The great door creaked open. Zya entered the hall, and Joen stepped out from an antechamber, full of benevolence, full of fatherly love. The expression on his face altered as he saw Bethen. “Bethen, you should be about your studies, should you not?” He asked, composed once more but arching an eyebrow.
Bethen flushed under his gaze. “I should, father Kzell,” she replied contritely. �
�I am on my way now.”
“See that you work hard, my daughter.” He turned his attention to Zya, making her feel the most important person in the guild from the very first moment. “I will tell you now. I am certain that I have found my replacement, the next head of the Order of the Earthen clerics. I have he had trained more and more fresh initiates in the ways of our order, and in the laws that had been handed down by Divine Ilia, all those millennia ago. It is my solemn duty to prepare the children against the day Ilia once more walks the earth, and sets all aright. There is one facet of information passed down only through successive heads of the order: 'The arrival will be preceded by the announcement of stars where there are no stars, and by magic where there is no magic.' I am convinced that this refers to you, Zya, and that she had a direct hand in both learning from me, and shaping the order for Ilia's impending return. You have a free spirit though, and this must be reined in. The one that precedes our Goddess must be holy and pure, and I will teach you those ways.”
The words began to spill out of his lips as he rambled.
“I never thought I would be the one to witness the return. The second coming of the Ultimate is a dream that masters had lived with for generations, and now it is within our grasp to shape the return.”
Joen said 'our', but Zya was sure he meant 'my'.
He would not know what to make of your upbringing. A devout follower of the Old Law as you are, it is generally disregarded in the cities, and the cities are where the power lies in the Duchies. Yet you have also been a tinker, travelling the land with horse and wagon. Trying to continue that dying tradition is admirable, and shows the true spirit of a stubborn breed. Perhaps you do have the strength to do what is necessary to aid the return of my Goddess.”
Voices down the hallway caused him to drop his distracted thoughts.
Zya was sure she saw Bethen disappear around the bend of the hallway. Joen continued his talk, in now measured tones. “You are all that the head of an order should be, especially one who would help the Goddess return. Your long dark hair, and earthen eyes are perfect, and you have the natural height and posture of one who would be listened to. I wish that I was fifty years younger right now. In my prime I was tall with golden brown hair that had attracted the women and dazzled my peers alike. I don't remember much of my life before the guild, but that much I will never forget.
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 42