She smiled. “I’m certain I will—as much of you as you’re usually willing to let me see.”
The wind picked up, almost swallowing his soft reply.
“I’ve allowed you to see far more than most. Let’s hope neither of us lives to regret it.”
Outside the ring of forest huts that formed the widest circle of the Filidic settlement was a hostel, a series of small wayfarers’ cottages with a main lodge between them. Rhapsody recognized the group of buildings as one of the pilgrim hostels. It was to one of these hostels that Llauron’s Tanist, Khaddyr, had brought her when she first came to the Circle.
Ashe had circumvented a number of similar hostels before pointing her in the direction of one somewhat smaller building.
“Why this one?” she asked. “Why not one of the dozen or so we passed earlier?”
“I think you might find Gavin here,” Ashe replied.
Rhapsody laughed. “It’s easier to find a specific grain of flax in a ten-stone sack than to find Gavin anywhere you are looking for him,” she said. “He could be anywhere on this side of the continent.”
Ashe shrugged. “Well, then he has just as much chance of being here as anywhere else,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you need to see him specifically?”
“No. Anyone who can get me to the Tree Palace without being stopped will do.”
“Then you are in the right place. Just ask one of the foresters; I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to oblige you. But Rhapsody—only one. And keep your hood up. I’ll see you tonight.”
Rhapsody watched him walk away into the trees and disappear from her view. She turned back to the budding forest before her.
A few acolytes dressed in the cowlless robes of the Filidic order were walking through the hostel’s grounds, chatting with each other. Rhapsody waited until they had faded off into the woods, then walked up to the door of the main building and prepared to knock.
Before her knuckles touched the door it opened. Standing there, looking surprised, was a brown-skinned man with a full, dark beard, attired in the green and brown garb of the foresters regiment, the woodsmen who served as guides to the pilgrims on their journeys to pay respect to the Circle and to the Great White Tree. Rhapsody froze so as not to rap him in the face.
“Gavin! I’m sorry.”
“Rhapsody?” Gavin stared at her, then smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to ask a favor of Llauron,” Rhapsody said. “Do you think you might be able to get me in to see him?”
“I imagine I can,” he said, stepping out of the cottage and pulling the cord handle to shut the door behind him. “I’m on the way to the Tree Palace now, in fact. Llauron holds a meeting of the chiefs after each new moon. You’re welcome to accompany me, if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” she said, following him off the doorstep and through the glade. “I’d like that.” She hurried to keep pace with his swift passage through the greenwood, and made note to compliment Ashe—who was about the same height as Gavin—the next time they met up on how nicely he had managed to reign in his stride to keep her from having to chase him as they walked.
17
At midday they came to the wide forest meadow that encircled the Great White Tree. Rhapsody had been following its song since the outer forest edge; what had begun as a deep humming in her soul was now a vibrant melody, slow and varying only slightly from note to note, but filled with enchanting beauty and unmistakable power.
How like Sagia’s song it is, she thought, remembering the melody of the Tree on the other side of the world through which she, Grunthor, and Achmed had escaped. Only there was a youth to it, a vibrancy that Sagia didn’t have. Sagia’s song, on the other hand, contained a mellow wisdom, a depth of tone missing in this one. Perhaps that was because Sagia had grown in the place where the first element, ether, was born, and the Great White Tree stood where the last one, earth, had appeared. Age and Youth, tied together by history and the Axis Mundi.
When finally they could see the Tree, Rhapsody stopped inadvertently, awed by the wonder of the sight. The Great White Tree was easily fifty feet across at the base, and the first major limb was more than a hundred feet from the ground, leading up to more branches that formed an expansive canopy blooming with new leaves, green-white with fresh life. The midday sun shone on its bark, giving it an almost ethereal glow, and casting patches of golden light in between its enormous branches, forming hazy shafts of illumination that rained down on the ground below, filled with dreamy magic.
Around its base, set back a hundred yards from where its great roots pierced the earth, had been planted a ring of trees, one of each species in the known world, some of them the last surviving example of its kind, Llauron had said.
On the other side of the meadow stood a great copse of ancient trees, vastly tall and broad, though no match for the Great White Tree in height or breadth. Built throughout and around this grove of trees was a large, beautiful house, simple yet breathtaking in design simultaneously. The sight of it brought a welcome warmth to Rhapsody’s soul.
Llauron’s tree palace was set at many odd angles, with sections placed high in the trees or on stilts with windows that faced the Tree. Intricate woodwork dressed the exterior, in particular the large section with a tower that reached high above the forest canopy. With the arrival of spring, the house had taken on a glow similar to the bark of the Great White Tree; it stood, gleaming quietly, in the cool shade of the tree grove around it.
A great stone wall, lined with blooming gardens that had been sleeping when last she was here, led up to a section on the side of the smaller wing, where a heavy wooden door, ancient and marred with what appeared to be salt spray, was guarded by soldiers on either side.
In the upper corner of the door was a hex sign, a circle formed by a spiral. In the door’s center was the image of some sort of mythical beast, a dragon, or a griffin perhaps, that had at one time been rendered in gold leaf, but had been eroded by the passage of time and the elements. And more—Llauron had said this door had once been the entryway to an inn in Serendair, a place significant in the history of the war that was brewing when she and the others had left the Island. Seeing the door always served as a reminder of her homeland, and how lost in time she was.
“It’s good to see this place again,” she said to Gavin as they passed the wide flower beds, blooming with a riot of color. The bloom on the gardens of the Filids was far ahead of the rest of the flora of the western continent. “I’ve missed it.”
Gavin smiled and nodded to the guards at the door, who saluted him. “You can live here, you know. You can stay in my cabin if you dislike the luxury of Llauron’s home; I’m never there anyway.” He opened the door.
Rhapsody followed him into the entryway of the wooden palace. Sunlight streamed through the glass panes in the vaulted ceiling, revealing the forest canopy above the towering roofline. The scent of cedar and fresh pine boughs filled the air of the oddly angled house, mixed with the spicy aroma of herbs and flowers. Rhapsody breathed it in gratefully, finding the odors soothing.
In the center hallway stood a small group of men and women in farm clothes and simple robes, talking quietly until Gavin closed the door behind him. Rhapsody recognized Khaddyr, Llauron’s Tanist and chief healer, first. Khaddyr was the man the Circle elders had chosen to be the Invoker’s successor one day, but now he passed his days instructing the acolytes in medicine and caring for the injured and the dying in the hospices of the Filid settlement. Despite an occasionally gruff manner, Khaddyr was a devoted healer and spent untold hours compassionately tending the patients in his care.
Talking with him was Lark, the quiet Lirin herbalist with whom Rhapsody had also studied. Lark was shy and withdrawn, and tended only to speak when asked a question or when discussing the subject with which she was most familiar.
Further down the hall stood Brother Aldo, also very shy, the healer of forest animals and chief of the physicians who assisted the local tow
nspeople with their livestock. He was conversing with Ilyana, the chief of agriculture and the manager of Llauron’s greenhouses. They stared as she pulled down her hood, as did the other Filidic chief priests.
Khaddyr finally shook his head and broke into a smile.
“Rhapsody! What a surprise! How nice to see you, my dear.”
“Thank you, Your Grace; it’s nice to see you as well.” She bowed politely to the others. “Is Llauron about?”
“Indeed he is,” came a cultured voice to her right. Llauron stood in the doorway of his offices, attired in his usual robe of simple gray, carrying a sheaf of papers.
The Invoker’s face was pleasant and wrinkled, with a good many lines around his eyes, his hair silver and white with heavy brows and a matching mustache, neatly trimmed. His build was tall and somewhat slight, though he appeared in good health. His skin had the weathered look of someone who spent most of his time outdoors. “And he is most pleased to see you, but I had no idea you were coming. Excuse me for a moment, will you, Your Graces?”
The others nodded, and Llauron handed the papers he was holding to Gavin. He gently took hold of Rhapsody’s arm and led her into his study.
Once the door was closed the Invoker kissed her on the cheek and went to the fireplace where a steaming kettle hung.
“Tea, my dear?”
“No; thank you very much, though, Llauron. I’m sorry if I disturbed you, dropping in unannounced.”
“Not at all; it’s a delightful surprise. Make yourself comfortable. I need to tend to this meeting of the chief priests, but I will let Gwen and Vera know you are here. They can roust you up some lunch and set to preparing your room. How long can you stay, my dear?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Rhapsody said uncomfortably. “I’m en route somewhere, and I have to be on my way shortly.”
“I see.” The cool blue-gray eyes of the Invoker narrowed slightly, though his face remained in a pleasant expression.
“I was hoping to impose on you, and ask a favor.”
“By all means. What can I do for you?”
Rhapsody took off her gloves; her hands were sweating suddenly. “I need to send a message home to Achmed, and I don’t want to wait for the guarded caravan. I was hoping you might allow me to make use of one of your messenger birds.”
Llauron nodded thoughtfully. “Certainly. So that’s why I haven’t heard from you in such a long time; you’ve been traveling.” Rhapsody steeled herself for the inevitable questions, but Llauron seemed to sense her unwillingness and didn’t ask them. “Well, by all means we can send a message home for you. Why don’t you have a seat and rest your legs, my dear. I will have Vera bring you some lunch, and set to reprovisioning you. Do you need any herbs, any medicines?”
“No, no, thank you,” she replied, following his outstretched finger to the horsehair sofa where she sat down.
“Well, perhaps we can find you some special stores for you to take home with you anyway. I’m sure the Bolg can make use of them. Now, my dear, I want you to Watch this.” He went to a door hidden among the molding and bookshelves of the far wall of his study and swung it open; Rhapsody had seen it before, and knew it led into his private office.
“Do you remember Mahb, the young ash tree in my medicine garden in the back?”
“Yes.”
“There is a hidden entrance behind him which you can enter, opening it much the same as you would open this one. The next time you come, please feel free to make use of that entrance. It will lead you into my private office, and that way if your travels are of a sensitive nature, as I sense they are this time, no one else need know of your arrival.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully as Llauron closed the door again.
The Invoker smiled warmly. “Think nothing of it. Now, let me attend to this meeting while you refresh yourself, and I will help you send your message when I return.”
Rhapsody had barely finished the meal Vera had brought to her in the study when Llauron came back, closing the door behind him. A small satchel was slung over his shoulder. In his hand he held a small blue-gray winterbird, a hardy flier of the type that he often used to send messages to her in Ylorc.
“Hello again,” he said, stroking the animal’s tufted head. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“More than enough, thank you, Your Grace,” she said, wiping her mouth quickly with the linen napkin from the tray.
“Here is Swynton; he’s one of my best long-distance messengers; I think you’ve seen him before. There’s a quill, an inkwell and some vellum on the desk there if you would be so kind as to write your note; he’s getting a bit flustered. I woke him rather rudely and pulled him from the rookery, and I don’t think he’s of a mind to forgive me yet.”
“I’m sorry.” Rhapsody hastened to the desk, jotted a brief note, blotted the ink dry and rolled it into a tiny scroll. Llauron smiled, reached into his pocket and removed a small metal leg container, which he offered her. She slid the message inside and the Invoker attached it, then nodded to the concealed door in the wall.
“Let’s go out through the hidden entrance to be sure you can find it again,” he said. “Next time you come, I hope you’ll have more time to stay and chat. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Rhapsody opened the door in the wall. “I’d like that very much,” she said. She followed Llauron’s lead to the hidden entrance, which led through a dark earthen tunnel to the quiet alcove behind the invoker’s kitchen. They waited until there was no one in sight, then stepped out into the brightness of late afternoon.
“Do you think you will be able to find it again?” Llauron asked as he let the bird go.
“I believe so.”
“Good, good.” Llauron shielded his eyes as the winterbird banked into the wind, then disappeared over the towering canopy of the Great White Tree. “There he goes. Have no fear, my dear. Your friends shall receive your message safely.”
Rhapsody smiled at the elderly man. He had not pried into her quest at all, nor asked her the content of her message. She looked into his face and read fatherly concern in his expression.
“Many thanks again, Llauron,” she said, taking his hand. “I am sorry for my rudeness in dropping in like this and hurrying on my way.”
“Well, sometimes it can’t be helped, no matter how much we’d all love to visit with you, my dear. Gwen has your provisions ready.” He pulled the satchel from his shoulder and handed it to her. “If you’ll allow me a blessing, I’ll ask the One-God for his protection for your journey until you are safely back in Ylorc with your friends.”
“Thank you.” She bowed her head respectfully, and Llauron rested his hand on it, speaking a few words in Old Cymrian, the language of her childhood that was now considered an ancient cant, and used for religious purposes only.
When his invocation was finished, the old man patted her cheek gently, then lifted her chin up and studied her face.
“Be careful, my dear; I would not wish to see any harm come to you. If you need anything while in my lands, please tell whomever you meet that you are under my protection, and any aid they give you will be considered a favor to me.”
“Again, thank you, Llauron. Now, I must be off. Please thank Gwen and Vera for me.” Rhapsody reached up and put her arms around the elderly gentleman’s neck, giving him a quick embrace. “Please take care of yourself as well.”
The Invoker returned the embrace, and when he released her his eyes were shining with a fond light.
“For you, my dear, anything in the wide world. Travel well, and give my best to your friends back in Ylorc.”
When she arrived at the waymarker that night, Ashe was waiting for her.
“I see you found it.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Were you able to send your message?”
“Yes, thank you. Ashe?”
He had turned toward the south, preparing to leave. “Yes?”
“Thank you for not making me run to keep up.”
“You�
��re more than welcome, Rhapsody. As I told you back in the Teeth, if you should run I doubt I would be able to keep up.”
Their journey south through the wakening forest was uneventful, marked by thickets of blossoming trees and endless stretches of new green leaves. Rhapsody was beginning to wonder when the world would seem like more than just the endless forest through which they traveled.
The burgeoning spring had reached down into her blood, causing her to drink in the air deeply, making her eyes shine. Rhapsody walked amid the awakening forest with a sense of awe, wondering what Elynsynos was feeling through her bond with the blossoming earth, and hoping the season was bringing the dragon comfort.
After several days she sensed that they were approaching the Lirin lands. Finally, late one afternoon, she turned to him and touched his arm.
“Ashe?”
“Yes?”
“We’re in Tyrian now, aren’t we?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“In fact, I think we’ve been in Tyrian for several hours.”
“You may be right.”
“Well,” Rhapsody said, coming to a gradual stop, “then this is where I should go on alone.”
Ashe said nothing, but loosed his pack and laid his walking staff on the ground.
Rhapsody dropped her gear as well, then looked up into the dark hood, hoping for a glimpse of blue eyes. She saw none.
“‘Thank you’ really isn’t adequate to express my gratitude for all you’ve done for me,” she said, hoping she was looking up at the correct angle. “But thank you, anyway.”
“I’d be happy to wait for you and escort you back to Ylorc,” said Ashe.
Rhapsody laughed. “Again, thank you, but I think I’ve imposed on your time long enough. I assume you have a life to get back to. If not, for goodness sake, go find one.” There was no response. “Besides, I’m hoping Oelendra will take me on as a student, and if she does, I expect to be here quite a while. And I can take care of myself. Really.”
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