by J B Drake
Then, he looked over at Tip. “Do you like your clothes?”
Tip frowned at his friend, before shaking his head.
“It itches,” he muttered.
A knowing smile parted Davian’s lips as he walked over to a nearby empty chair.
“That’ll be the starch,” he said as he sat. “It’ll take a bit of getting used to.”
“What’s a starch?”
“Oh, it’s—”
At that moment, the door swung open, admitting Magister Meadowview into the room.
“Davian!” he said as his eyes fell upon the smiling little elf. “Not that I’m averse to you being here, but does your father know you’re here?”
“Good afternoon, Magister Meadowview,” Davian replied with a slight bow.
Tip couldn’t help but smile. It still felt surreal watching Davian treating Baern so formally after all that had happened.
“My father knows I’m here, yes,” Davian continued. “He gave me leave to attend with Marshalla and Tip.”
“Did he, now?” Baern said as he frowned.
“Mhm.” Davian replied with an eager nod.
A brief silence fell upon all within.
“He has no idea, does he?” Baern muttered.
“He…no.”
“Ah,” said Baern, closing the door behind him as he fought to suppress a smile. As he turned to Marshalla and Tip, however, his smile broke free.
“You both look—”
“Like some rich brat’s toys,” Marshalla growled.
“Well, now that you mention it…”
Marshalla’s gaze darkened greatly at Baern’s words.
“The ceremony’s about to begin,” Baern continued, grinning. “I trust you both remember your words, and when to say them?”
As one, both nodded.
“Good.” Taking a deep breath, the elderly elf let it out slowly as he eyed each child before him.
“You have both come a long way, endured much and more. Time for some happiness in your lives, I think.”
Turning, he stared at Tip square. “All of you.”
Tip frowned at him for a spell, before a wide grin parted his lips.
“Think he means you too, Ani,” he thought.
“Happiness…now wouldn’t that be something?”
“Well,” Baern said as he turned to open the door behind him, “shall we?”
As one, all three rose, and with their hands in each other’s, they walked out into the corridor, Baern being the last to leave.
“I think you’ll both like it here,” Davian said as they walked, “it’s quite nice.”
“You don’t live here, though,” Marshalla noted.
“I know,” Davian said, grinning. “But I do visit often, so I know how it’s like, and—”
“So that’s where you went!” a voice boomed.
Turning, his heart in his throat, Davian stared at his father as he marched towards them.
“Father, I—”
“When we agreed that you would attend, it was strictly to accompany me. You are meant to witness the ceremony as a guest, not as a participant.
“But Father, I—”
“After all he endured by their side, you would deny him this?” Baern said, a most serious frown upon his lips.
Thuridan levelled a glare at Baern. “This is a family matter, Baern, it doesn’t concern you.”
As the magisters spoke, Tip chanced a glance at the couple that had accompanied Davian’s father. Stood apart from them, the couple’s gaze seemed to encompass both he and Marshalla, and only them. With a polite smile, Tip nodded at the pair, but while the man nodded back, albeit stiffly, the woman merely stared.
Curious, Tip held the woman’s gaze, but it was not long before he came to regret it. There was hate in her eyes, deep, visceral and raw, of a kind poor Tip had never sensed in all his years. As Tip stared at the woman, he felt himself begin to wilt.
“Tip, are you alright?” Anieszirel asked, her concern plain.
Before Tip could respond, however, the male of the couple began making his way towards them. Grateful for the distraction, Tip turned his focus to him.
“What’s this?” said the elven male said as he reached them. With him so near, It did not take long for Tip to realise who he was.
“Is Davian being naughty again?” the elf continued.
With a sheepish smile, Davian dropped his gaze.
“Why don’t you accompany us, my young magister? You can explain what transpires to us.”
“But—” Davian began.
“Oh, come now, boy,” the elven male interjected. “You have forever to play with your…friends.”
With clear desperation, Davian turned to Baern, but Baern could only shrug and shake his head. Defeated, young Davian turned to his father before, standing tall, turned to the elven male as he forced a smile.
“I would be honoured.”
The elven male smiled at Davian. “Good man.”
“You Durlin’s father,” Tip said at last.
With an unruffled air, the elven male turned to stare at Tip. “That I am.”
Tip lowered his gaze as a frown spread across his lips. “Sorry what happened to him. Not nice what happened.”
“You sound like a child weighed by guilt.”
“Uh, children,” Baern said, placing a protective hand on Marshalla and Tip’s shoulders, “allow me to introduce Lord Tirelin Fairshroud, Duke of Tellun.”
Then, he nodded at the woman in the distance. “And over there is Lady Netari Fairshroud, Duchess of Tellun.”
With a stiff nod, the woman acknowledged the Magister’s words. But her gaze remained upon Tip throughout, and it burned with the same unquenching fire.
“They are both honoured guests of this fair occasion,” Baern continued. “And have come, like so many, to wish you well in a new chapter of your lives.”
“Well said, Magister,” the Duke replied with an effortless grin. “Well said indeed. Let us set aside the grave injustices done to see you where you are now and…celebrate this grand occasion together, shall we?”
“What you mean, grave injustices?” Marshalla demanded.
“Hrm?” the Duke replied as he turned to stare at her square.
“You think we repsponsible?” Tip asked before Marshalla could respond.
The man arched an eyebrow at Tip.
“Responsible, Tip.”
“Responsible, Tip,” Marshalla echoed.
“Yeah,” Tip replied, his eyes upon the Durlin’s father throughout.
“My, my,” the Duke replied. “Such a big word for such a little man. You’re certainly smarter than you look, good for you!”
“You trying to be funny?” Marshalla snarled.
“No, young lady,” the Duke replied, turning to face her with a pained air. “I was trying to be civil. But as that one simple act seems beyond you, I shall take my leave.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned to Baern.
“Magister,” he said as he nodded.
“Duke,” Baern replied in much the same manner.
“You—!” Marshalla began, but with a heavy hand upon her shoulder, Baern stilled her tongue.
“Davian,” the Duke said as he turned to the young elf, seemingly oblivious to Marshalla’s near outburst, “shall we?”
“Of course,” Davian replied before hurrying on down the corridor, the Duke following behind. Thuridan however, glowered at Marshalla a spell before turning to join his son.
“The nerve of that man.”
“They not very nice,” Tip said after a brief silence.
“No, they are not,” Baern said with a heavy sigh.
“Come,” he said at last, “we cannot afford to be late. Come.”
Without another word, Baern hurried down the corridor, the pair following behind. They hurried on in silence till they reached a single ornate door. Stopping, Baern turned to stare once more at the pair, and, smiling at each in turn, took a deep breath before openin
g the door and walking through.
Taking a deep breath herself, Marshalla slipped a hand into Tip’s. Squeezing it tightly, he stared at her.
“Ready?” she said.
Tip grinned as he nodded.
“Okay,” Marshalla nodded in response, and, together, they walked through the open door.
But as Tip stepped in, and his eyes took in all that was within, his feet stopped of their own accord as his mouth fell open.
“So many people,” Marshalla whispered as she too beheld the sea of faces.
They were all staring at them. Some faces Marshalla knew, most she did not, and as her fear mounted, she struggled to hold their gazes. But with her fear came strength. They, she and Tip, were there for a reason, to finally taste happiness. And that one thought gave her the strength to meet the stares upon her.
Raising her chin, she turned to little Tip beside her. Standing in silence, she stared at him till their eyes met. It was then she let go of his hand and locked arms with him, a warm smile parting her lips. Before long, her smile spread to him.
“You okay?”
Tip took one more look at the crowd before staring once more at his dear friend.
“Hm,” he said with a fierce nod.
“Good. Let’s get this done, then.”
And with arms entwined, both walked towards the podium, towards Baern and the Matriarch upon it.
*****
Sighing, Mardaley smiled to himself as he shook his head.
“Well done, old man,” he said as he leant upon the wall, one hand behind him as he patted his chest gently with the other, “very well done indeed.”
Shaking his head, he looked at the throng about him. That such a simple and sombre ceremony would draw such a crowd was a curiosity in itself, but that so many would so easily and so quickly forget the events that preceded such an occasion…Mardaley couldn’t help but chuckle. Would that they knew the truth, the full truth.
“Ah, Master Templeton,” a voice rang out, jarring Mardaley from his thoughts. With a slight frown, Mardaley looked over at the utterer.
“Oh gods,” he whispered, before forcing a smile.
“Lord Fairshroud,” he said, bowing as the elven lord reached him, before turning and bowing to the lady by the elven lord’s side.
“Lady Fairshroud.”
“Mardaley,” the lay nodded at him.
With a genuine smile, Mardaley looked down at the little boy in their company.
“Well, hello there, Davian. I see you’re in high spirits today.”
Davian chuckled in response.
“Davian,” Lord Fairshroud said, smiling at the little boy, “why don’t you go get yourself a refreshment? Lady Fairshroud and I would like to speak with Mardaley on a rather delicate matter.”
“But of course, Your Grace,” Davian said with a polite bow before turning and leaving.
All three watched him leave.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Mardaley asked after a brief moment’s silence.
Lord Fairshroud smiled at him. “A most moving occasion, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed,” Mardaley said, nodding as he spoke
“Yes. And to think that he was taken over by such a vile and cruel creature as that Kin-Slayer. That poor boy has certainly endured much.”
Mardaley nodded. “Yes, that he has.”
As he spoke, Mardaley chanced a glance at Lady Fairshroud. She was staring at him with eyes that burned bright and fierce.
“But we have you to thank for his salvation, do we not?” Lord Fairshroud continued.
Mardaley turned to the noble, feigning humility. “Oh, please, no, it was a joint effort. Baern had as much to do with Tip’s salvation as I did.”
“To hear the Matriarch tell it,” Lady Fairshroud said through gritted teeth, “you were the sole reason for that abomination claiming our son.”
“Now, now, my dear,” Lord Fairshroud said, turning to smile at his wife as he gently patted her hand upon his elbow. “I’m sure Mardaley didn’t knowingly force that creature into our son.”
Abruptly, he looked back at Mardaley, his smile as if chiselled onto his lips. “Or did you?”
In his mind, Mardaley snarled and raged at the pair, but outwardly, he held them with a sad smile.
“I’m afraid to do such a thing, were I even of a frame of mind to do something so monstrous, is beyond my abilities. Kin-Slayer chooses her hosts, and she chose Durlin.”
“There!” Lord Fairshroud said as he turned to his wife. “You see, my dear. Master Templeton is not some heartless coward who chose to damn our son so he could save two worthless gutter rats. He is nothing of the sort.”
Again, the lord turned to Mardaley. “Is that not right?”
Keeping a firm hold on his smile, Mardaley shook his head. “Of course not.”
“You see!” Lord Fairshroud exclaimed.
From the corner of his eye, Mardaley spotted his dear friend Baern, but the Magister hadn’t seen him yet.
“Get over here, Baern,” he thought. “Now.”
“But,” Lord Fairshroud continued, “I do have a grievance with you, Master Templeton.”
“Oh?” Mardaley replied, drawing him from his thoughts.
“Yes. You have yet to honour my invitation. My wife and I would dearly love to speak to you in a more…agreeable setting. To impress upon you our complete faith in your actions, and assure you that there’s no animosity between us in any form.”
“Ah,” Mardaley said, “as I told your stewards, my store keeps me quite busy, I’m afraid, especially of late. It really is all I can do to service my clients. Which is why I suggested you both come to visit me at my store.”
“My good man, you wound me, you wound me deeply. Had we been able to come to you, we would have done so by now. The affairs of state and land have left us with barely any time to ourselves. Surely you must be able to make some time for us. Or, would it help if we were to have a quiet word with the king…? Just to see if there is anything he can do to assist you, of course.”
“That’s rather kind of you, Lord Fairshroud, but Matriarch Earthchild has already had a word with him in my stead, and he is already providing me with some assistance. And protection.”
For a moment, a fleeting moment, Mardaley saw the rage within the elven lord flash across his features, and, though it was for but a moment, seeing it filled Mardaley with such savage pleasure.
“You’re not too busy to come to the ceremony, I see,” Lady Fairshroud snarled.
“Neither are you,” Mardaley replied as he turned to hold her in a calm gaze.
“Oh, come now,” Lord Fairshroud said, his smile already back in place, “this is no time for animosity, today is a great day!” Then, he bowed to Mardaley. “Until next time, Master Templeton.”
Smiling himself, Mardaley too bowed. “Until next time.”
And with that, both turned and left the storekeeper be.
“Bloody nuisances, those two,” Mardaley grumbled once the pair were out of earshot.
“I’m glad to see you left them breathing.”
Scowling, Mardaley turned to Baern as he offered him a goblet of firewine.
“You have no idea how close I came,” Mardaley replied as he took the offered goblet.
Baern chuckled. “Actually, I think I do.”
His scowl deepening, Mardaley took a sip and let his eyes wander across the crowd.
“You know,” Baern said as he too sipped his drink, “when you first told me of your plans, I didn’t think we could do it. And yet, here we are.”
Smiling, Mardaley held Baern in a sideways glance.
“What…?” Baern asked.
“Now, you’re comfortable talking freely in public?”
Baern scoffed in response as he raised his glass to his lips. “Like anyone can hear us over this din.”
Snickering, Mardaley took a sip of his wine. “Well, it wasn’t exactly how I’d planned it, but here we are nonethele
ss.”
“Yes. Shame it was Durlin and not Thane,” Baern said. “Give me two irate merchants over two irate nobles any day.”
“Hear, hear,” Mardaley said as he took another sip.
“And then there’s your Matriarch making Thuridan a magister,” he added. “Of all people, him!”
Baern sighed as a frustrated frown twisted his lips.
“He’s going to be even more insufferable now,” Mardaley continued, “and even harder to contain.”
“Oh, I know, Mardaley, believe me. And I did try to talk her out of it. But…I’ve not seen her so stubborn, so set on something since…” Sighing, he took another sip.
“It’s stupid, is what it is,” Mardaley muttered. “She’ll come to regret it, mark my words.”
“But, in her defence, she had little choice.”
Mardaley turned to face Baern, staring at him as if slapped.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Mardaley. You have no idea what Thuridan did when hunting those two. You don’t know what lives he destroyed, what laws he broke. You and I don’t know what unspeakable acts he committed in his pursuit. But she would. In fact, more than that, I think she sanctioned them.”
“So she’s rewarding him?” Mardaley asked, dumbfounded.
“No, she’s silencing him.”
“I…” Mardaley’s voice died in his throat as he pondered his friend’s words.
“We shouldn’t be thinking of the bad anyway, now’s not the time.”
Mardaley smiled. “You’re right, let’s save that for tomorrow.”
Smiling, Baern nodded. “Yes. And besides, even with all these complications, tomorrow can’t be as bad as what we’ve been through.”
“Careful, Baern,” Mardaley said, raising his goblet to his lips, “lest Fate take that as a dare.” Chuckling, Baern shook his head. “Fair point, perhaps there are still a fair few challenges ahead. We still have to train Tip. And protect him. And keep Marshalla and Naeve apart.”
“Not to mention the separation.”
“Yes, that,” Baern sighed deeply.
“But, like you said,” Mardaley said cheerily, “those are tomorrow’s worries, not today’s.”
“Agreed!” And as one, both downed the contents of their goblets before wincing and coughing.
“Another?” Baern croaked.
“Please,” Mardaley nodded.