Judgment of the Elders

by Gregg Schwartzkopf

  “I was afraid you’d say something like that. How long will it take?”

  He pondered the question. “I can have it in about a week. I’ll contact my supplier this afternoon.”

  “I appreciate it. When doing complex workings you want the best ingredients. I was hoping to perform the ritual promptly, but if it must wait a week I suppose it’s worth it. That will give me more time to secure the necessary funds.”

  Lucas gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ll cut you the best deal I can.”

  The fellow was sweet and fairly cute, but Esme could not picture herself with a human. It was beneath her.

  ##

  While Esmeralda ordered her incense, Cass and Joan discussed Saturday shopping opportunities while sitting in homeroom. Cass’s goal was replacing his backpack, and he planned on taking a bus to the nearest megamall. Joan, not a big shopper by inclination, suggested a better alternative.

  “My father manages a local discount store; one of those places that buys surplus merchandise for cheap resale. We can find you a decent pack for less money, unless you want designer labels or something suitable for hiking the Catskills.”

  “As long as it holds four textbooks with room for pens I’m good. I also need new pens.”

  “Okay. I’ll come over to your place around ten tomorrow.”

  Cass gave thumbs up. “It’s a date.”

  “Don’t call it that.”

  “It’s a date on the calendar. We are a consumer partnership.”

  Joan’s expression returned to a trademark sardonic smile. “I’m your shopping consultant. That’s all.”

  “If you say so girlfriend.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Whatever. You’re so sensitive. We both should just find partners. We can scout out guys with potential while shopping.”

  “Or, instead we could grab you a backpack and get in a sewer swim before lunch because that would be more fun than HITTING ON GUYS.”

  Cass held up his hands defensively. “Perhaps a visit to the pet store is in order. If you’re not into dating, you need a cat.”

  “I don’t trust cats. They’re sneaky.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the intercom. Announcements from the office were often broadcast during homeroom. Ms. Cunningham, the school secretary, or Mr. Gunderson typically read a list of upcoming events, policy changes or classes getting substitute teachers. Hearing Sister Patrice speaking, however, focused the attention of most students, purely due to the novelty.

  “I wish to remind you all that the Student Suggestion Box is intended to be your method of contributing ideas for improving the academic and social life here at Our Lady of Abundant Mercy. It is not to be used for unsigned and baseless insults directed at the staff. Such behavior could result in the program being canceled and all students losing their opportunity for input because of the bad behavior of a few.”

  Cass noted that most of the homeroom class rolled their eyes, shrugged or whispered to neighbors about Sister Patrice’s pronouncement. He wondered why the students cared so little about the fate of their suggestion box. He also wondered why Katrina kept her eyes on her desk and talked to no one until the bell summoned them to first period classes.

  ##

  That same afternoon, Peter Goodkin and Rodger Hamilton found themselves engaging in the one interest they shared: chess. The Chess Club met weekly and members paired off by random draw. Rodger drew Peter at this session and was holding his own against the senior boy. Both players had castled and Rodger was playing a defensive game for black, hoping his opponent would offer an opening. Peter tended to get reckless when he was winning.

  “You’re a sophomore, aren’t you, Hamilton?”

  “Yup.”, replied Rodger as he positioned his queen’s knight to avoid a discovered check on the next play.

  “Do you know that new girl; the transfer student with the pale blond hair?”

  “Cassandra Forest, and she’s my chemistry lab partner.”

  Peter considered the board for a second. “She’s quite the oddball, isn’t she?”

  “She’s nice enough, once you get to know her. Granted, whatever is on her mind comes out of her mouth, but you always know where she’s coming from.”

  Peter moved his king’s bishop, focused more on Rodger’s response than on the game. “She’s been kind of hitting on me you know? She makes up excuses to talk to me.”

  Rodger feigned intense concentration over his next move hoping to conceal his distress regarding Cass and other boys. “Sometimes it seems like she flirting when she’s just being very friendly. Are you interested in her?”

  The senior boy smiled. “I’ve got three Varsity cheerleaders chasing me. The last thing I need is a sophomore groupie. But, I sense you might have a little crush.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “That’s often a good start, but rarely a good finish. Bishop takes Queen’s Pawn.”

  ##

  Adam Goodkin hung up the phone and pressed the Print key on his computer. Moments later he handed three invoices to the bald, broad shouldered man sitting across the desk from him.

  “Everything is in order, Mr. Izmailov. Your shipment arrived in Japan one hour ago and is now being transferred to The Snow Goose as you requested. By this evening you can take the cargo wherever you want.”

  Grigori Izmailov let out a short burst of laughter. “Excellent. This has been a most efficient operation, Mr. Goodkin. My people will be doing business with you again.

  “The only thing better than a satisfied customer is a repeat customer.”

  “This is so true. You are a businessman in my own mold.” Izmailov glanced at Goodkin’s desk and pointed to a framed photo. “Is that your son?”

  “Yes, that’s Peter. He’s my only child.”

  “I see by the uniform he attends Catholic school.”

  “He’s at Our Lady of Abundant Mercy, an excellent program.”

  “I know. My niece attends there. Will your Peter take over your business when you retire?”

  Goodkin pulled on his chin and delayed answering. Goodkin Import-Export had passed to him from his father, but Peter seemed, in Adam’s opinion, unsuited for the rigors of the job.

  “I’m not sure. Peter has a sharp mind, but I don’t think his heart is in it.”

  Izmailov nodded. “Often the heart clouds the mind. It is a good thing men like you and I have no hearts.”

  Goodkin smiled at the jest, not entirely certain that his client was joking.

  I know Grigori. It wasn’t a joke.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Warm sunlight dappled the hillside where she’d settled to take in the view of Fractured Cascade. The rumble of falling water soothed her spirit and calmed her rapidly beating heart. It could not slow too much, for she was in rabbit form and had a faster metabolism for the moment.

  Felson broke the news to Lynera the previous evening. Zahus would be elevated to Knight of Whiteleaf in a few days. The Defender offered Lynera the trainer position that Zahus would vacate. It was a rise in station and would give her more access to Felson’s ear. It might eventually lead to a Knighthood.

  The memory of Cass nibbled at the back of her mind like it was a succulent lettuce leaf. She wanted to see him, even in his new human form. If he could only explain his lapses or, at least, apologize for leaving her alone here without guidance or companion. She had no one who’d hop about the hills listening for bird calls with her, dining on grasses or curling up in a furry ball of sleep.

  She resumed her natural form. Thinking like a rabbit only led to impulsive behavior. Before she knew it she’d be running off to the Realm of Mortals looking for random, platinum-blond human girls. Appealing as the thought was, she realized it would not do at all. She needed to seek permission first. She retrieved her tunic from the tree branch and wandered back to the settlement.

  She decided to return to the training ground and practice archery. Weapon work always foc
used her mind and stilled her most rebellious thoughts. She reflected that it hadn’t worked that way for Caswell. As his skill with bow and blade increased, his confidence regarding even the most reckless scheme seemed to grow. Lynera smiled as she knocked an arrow and began firing.

  This set her on the course Kaviss intended from the outset. I had my doubts, but the Willowwalk Elder was a savvy advisor and I trusted his judgment, at least, most of the time. All Alfarans have their blind spots, just like the humans they tend to dismiss, and I wanted more proof that Lynera was the instrument I needed.

  ##

  Lynera collected five arrows, none more than the length of her little finger from the target’s center. She examined each one for damage and found all to be intact. She was not satisfied with her own performance, but she’d been shooting arrows for two hours and her arm was finally tired.

  With Felson denying her the rank of Knight, she needed to consider joining the Defender’s battalion as a weapon master training young recruits fresh from their sapling years. She wasn’t satisfied with that either.

  Turning, she noticed a cloaked figure leaning heavily on a walking staff. The man was watching her, but she hadn’t been aware of his presence. Her senses were normally too keen for that, but her visitor was screened by magic. She bowed to him as he approached.

  “Elder Kaviss, I am honored you would care to witness my efforts.”

  “Though your archery is impressive, it is not why I’ve come. I felt your desire for an audience.”

  She gathered her wits and her fortitude before speaking. “You may not know, but I was briefly considered to replace… the Exile… in his role as Knight of Whiteleaf.”

  “Don’t presume what I know child. Ask your boon.”

  “I feel I could be of use to the Exile as a guide and inspiration. He will face many temptations in the Realm of Mortals and may need an advisor closer to his own generation than the Speaker and his bondfast.”

  “Caswell means much to you. Do you have feelings for him?”

  She paused to consider just what Kaviss meant. “I have no expectation that we will bondfast. He was very good to me as a child. We discussed much and he taught me how to be Alfaran. I learned the meaning of Clan from him. I can remind him what it means.”

  The Elder chuckled until he began to wheeze. “No doubt you will have that chance, but you’ll need a few more quarrels in your quiver before you try. Perhaps after he returns you can assist him.”

  “You know that he will come back then; that he’ll be restored.”

  “Cass was always clever and his exile in the Realm of Mortals will be very instructive. The only question is: what lesson will he learn?”

  Lynera was puzzled. “Will he not learn that Mortal life is short and brutish; that they should be left in peace to live as best they can?”

  Kaviss gave her a knowing smile, but ignored her question. “I want you to meet someone.”

  The Elder beckoned her and she offered him her arm in support as they walked back toward the center of Clan Willowwalk’s domain. A giant willow tree stood at the center of the Alfaran enclave. Standing inside the curtain of branches was a woman with ruddy complexion and green tinged hair, marking her as Clan Marshwynd. She and Lynera were of comparable height, but looked like night and day next to each other.

  Elder Kaviss introduced them. The visitor was Rhassa Ulow te Marshwynd, but no Clan position was ascribed to her. She gave Lynera an appraising once over.

  “I hear you are quite talented and they almost elevated you to Knight of Whiteleaf.”

  Lynera shook her head. “I’m not certain it was a close thing. My history got in the way.”

  “Rhassa and I have been in communication for several moons now. She is aware of your connection to Caswel Esmar and does not see it as a barrier to joining her… ” He paused, seeking the appropriate designation. “Her operation.”

  “If anything, I see it as an advantage. The chance to reunite with him should serve as motivator.”

  “What is this operation?” asked Lynera. “Are you entering the Realm of Mortals?”

  “What you learn about my dealings, youngster, depends on your acceptance into the Darkmoon Wardens.”

  Lynera was vaguely aware of this shadowy association working beside, but not within, Alfaran society. Members of the Darkmoon Wardens occasionally attended Council functions or met with Clan Defenders, but the Wardens were no longer part of the clans and ordinary Alfarans rarely saw them at their work.

  The Wardens protected the Fae Gates. These ancient portals bridged the gap between the Mortal Realm and the Realm of Fae. They opened only during the three days of the new moon and the Elders regulated access to the Gates. The Wardens enforced those regulations. A very powerful mage can force open a Fae Gate at times other than the new moon, but only if they convince the Darkmoon Wardens that the need is very great.

  Lynera was intrigued by this turn of events. “How long have you been watching me, Rhassa?”

  “Long enough to know that you value the Alfaran way of life, but are just stubborn enough to challenge it occasionally. This is Caswel’s mark on you. Would you like to explore becoming a Warden?”

  “Would I have to renounce my Clan?”

  Rhassa paused before answering. “I am still of Clan Marshwynd and they welcome me home on the rare occasion I return to the Green Fens, but the Wardens show no favoritism or loyalty to their old Speakers and Defenders. We answer to the Elders, and our consciences.”

  Lynera looked back at Kaviss. “Do you want me to pursue this course?”

  The Elder nodded slowly. “I believe it is a better fit for you than being a trainer. Your weapon skills are superb and you have a stalwart nature. Like all members of our clan, you speak plainly and true. Most important, you are not afraid to ask questions. Still, I will not force you if your heart is telling you otherwise.”

  But Lynera’s heart was always up for a challenge, so she followed Rhassa out toward the borderlands beyond the Clan Homes.

  ##

  Rhassa and Lynera discussed geography, clan politics and the distribution of Fae Gates as they walked together. After days of hiking, the two women reached the lands of Clan Skyhold. There they resupplied and Lynera noted that the Skyhold Clan Defender was courteous but guarded in all her dealings with the two Wardens. As they began the ascent of the Ladder of Stars, tallest of the Realm’s mountains, Lynera asked Rhassa why mystery shrouded the Darkmoon Wardens if their primary mission was just to guard the Fae Gates.

  “I suppose it’s partially our own fault” replied Rhassa. “But the Clans engage in a lot of pointless speculation about us also. Many of the Gates are in the remote corners of the Realm. Not all of them are under Alfaran control, but we try to watch each one. That keeps us on the move and separate from the daily lives of our people. We don’t have the luxury of maintaining the rituals and traditions of our Clans and, when we return home, we’re often forgetful of the patterns of life we once knew. To be a Darkmoon Warden is to be a stranger among your own kind.”

  After a day’s rough climbing they came to a cave protected by overhanging ledges. Though it appeared shallow, a narrow fracture in the rock wall near the back allowed access to a larger chamber hollowed out over eons by dripping water. Globes of fairy fire illuminated a raised platform of rock. Flowstone walls refracted the light into pastel rainbows. Two large columns flanked the natural dais formed from the joining of stalagmite to stalactite. A man dressed in loose-fitting breeches and a tweed coat sat at a table carved from a tree stump. He was busy scribbling notes; too intent to look up from his work.

  Rhassa, adopting her most formal tone, said, “Lynera Esmar te Willowwalk, allow me to introduce you to the current leader of the Darkmoon Wardens, Interloper.”

  Lynera stepped forward to get a better look at me. “You’re human.”

  “Yes I am, dear, but I’ve resided here for several years. I know a lot about the Fae, but I’d like to know you a little better
. Sit down and we’ll chat.”

  It was more of an intensive interview than a chat. We discussed her love of the Great Grove, her knowledge of the Realm of Fae beyond Alfaran territory, and her rather rudimentary grasp of earth magic. In the end we both agreed she should join my little band of misfits.

  Rhassa escorted our new recruit to a sleeping chamber where she could restore herself after the long journey. Rhassa, too, could have used some rest, but she returned to report unfortunate news.

  “We were followed, Interloper. I spotted someone behind us after we left Skyhold. He was staying off the trail as much as possible. Before we reached the cave entrance, I led the pursuer into the maze of tumbled rock. I’ve sent guards to retrieve him.”

  “Good work, Rhassa. Get some sleep. I’ll deal with the intruder.”

  This development was unsettling. We were not equipped to hold prisoners for long periods, but I couldn’t let a spy return to his superiors with information. The wards around my complex would prevent telepathic communication, but this agent might already have indicated the mountain was important. I avoided killing just to protect my secrets, but I had to neutralize this intruder.

  The intruder was a man of Skyhold. He dressed in the gray and pale blue typical of the Clan, but wore an obsidian pendant depicting a torch. He’d been disarmed and manacled. Two of my archers drew a bead on him. Without preamble I said, “You follow the Torch Bearer.”

  The prisoner nodded. “Time and distance are no obstacles for him. He sees you, Interloper.”

  “It’s interesting that your all-knowing master needs spies to do reconnaissance for him.”

  He remained expressionless. “We are his tools, his eyes and his hands. His vast knowledge flows through us and flows back to him.”

  I stepped a little closer to him. “Your knowledge isn’t flowing anywhere. I can’t let you leave.”

  Another nod. “He already knows what you are planning.”

  “He’s a step ahead of me then, because I haven’t worked out the details yet. He also didn’t predict your capture. I’m sure you have at least a few interesting things to tell me.”

  He raised dead eyes to meet mine. “You are wrong, Interloper. I was meant to be captured.” Then his amulet became as black as the Void. I shouted to the archers and we dove for cover.