by DAVID B. COE
For a minute, no one spoke. Then Jessamyn smiled. “I’d be pleased to have you with us,” she said warmly.
That makes one of us, Jaryd thought to himself, glancing sidelong at the ill-mannered mage.
“As I began to say a moment ago,” Jessamyn continued, “we have our delegation and we shall leave with first light the day after tomorrow. The rest of you should decide whether you wish to stay in Amarid, with Odinan’s group, or join one of the patrols—Orris, who will organize your patrols if you are with us?”
“I will, Sage Jessamyn,” offered Ursel.
“Fine. Thank you, Ursel. When you have made your choice,” the Owl-Sage went on, addressing the entire Order, “please speak with Odinan or Ursel.” She paused to ring the crystal bell that sat on the table beside her. “We have had an eventful and productive afternoon,” she commented with a look of satisfaction. “Perhaps we should recess briefly to catch our collective breath.”
As she spoke, several blue-garbed attendants entered the chamber carrying trays filled with fruits, cheeses, and breads, and crystal decanters containing a fragrant pale wine. Jaryd began moving back to his seat, but, glancing toward Baden, who had been joined by Trahn, he saw the Owl-Master call him over with a gesture.
As he reached them, Baden indicated the chair to his left. “Have a seat,” the Owl-Master said cheerfully. “Radomil has joined some of his friends on the far side of the table, so his place is free.”
Jaryd took Radomil’s seat and Ishalla hopped from his shoulder to the perch on the chair.
“That actually went better than I feared it might,” Trahn observed quietly, as one of the attendants placed a large platter of food, a carafe of wine, and three crystal glasses in front of them on the council table. “I never thought I’d see an attack on the Great Hall itself, much less be grateful for it, but I think that it helped galvanize the Order into action.”
Baden nodded as he poured wine into the three glasses. “So did a rather timely and effective compromise, I might add.”
The dark mage inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment, before sipping from his goblet.
Jaryd also sampled the wine, which was light, and tasted of honey, without being too sweet. He broke off a piece of bread, took some cheese, and then passed the platter to Baden. He was famished, he realized. He hadn’t eaten since the night before. “Does either of you think it strange,” he asked between mouthfuls, “that Orris should want to journey with us to Theron’s Grove?”
Baden shrugged. “I suppose it is a bit curious, given his initial reaction to the idea. But Trahn knows him better than I,” he added, glancing toward his friend.
Trahn gave a small smile. “I’m not certain how well any of us knows Orris,” he conceded, “but no, I don’t think it’s that strange. Orris is a natural leader,” he explained, looking now at Jaryd. “The mannerisms that you see as gruff and abrupt, others may perceive as resolute and forceful. And, as a leader, he’s sometimes reluctant to trust to others things he feels competent to do himself. It seems logical to me that he’d want to join our delegation.”
“To make certain that we don’t mess things up, you mean,” Baden commented with a smirk.
Trahn smiled. “Something like that, yes.”
They paused to eat, chewing on the soft, sweet bread and the pungent, salty cheese.
“Mind if we join you?” came a voice from behind them.
The three of them turned to see Sartol, smiling broadly, and Alayna, looking decidedly less comfortable and steadfastly avoiding Jaryd’s gaze.
After a moment’s hesitation, Baden grinned and indicated a pair of nearby chairs with his hand. “Not at all, Sartol, Alayna. We’d welcome the company.” He paused, casting a glance and a grin at Jaryd. “Do we all know each other?”
Jaryd stood to face Alayna, and, taking more than a little satisfaction in the discomfort he saw behind her fixed smile, extended a hand. “We haven’t been introduced formally,” he said. “I’m Jaryd.”
“Alayna,” she replied, shaking his hand awkwardly and quickly sitting down. Jaryd sat as well.
“Even in these trying times,” Sartol observed to Baden and Trahn with a nod toward the younger mages, “I can’t help but be reassured to see our two newest colleagues both have their first bindings to Amarid’s Hawk.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Trahn agreed. “I think this is the first time it’s happened since I got my cloak.”
“Come to think of it,” Baden admitted, “I’ve never seen it either.”
Jaryd noticed that Alayna had begun to blush. Sartol appeared to notice as well, because he immediately changed the subject.
“You did us all a service today, Trahn. That proposal you offered turned around what could have been a disastrous session. I was afraid that stone through the window would destroy any chance of our reaching a decision.”
“Thank you, Sartol,” the Hawk-Mage responded, seeming uncomfortable with the Owl-Master’s praise, “but if I hadn’t offered it, someone else would have. I think those vandals might actually have helped us.”
Sartol considered this. “You may be right. Nonetheless, we all appreciate what you did.”
Trahn raised his glass in acknowledgment before taking another sip of wine. Again the conversation ebbed as they all ate and drank a bit more.
“I hope that Alayna and I didn’t interrupt a private conversation,” Sartol said at length, concern written on his tanned features.
“Not at all,” Baden assured him. “We were just discussing the make-up of the delegation to Theron’s Grove, a topic to which you two have probably given some thought as well.”
Sartol nodded, chewing on some bread. “An interesting group,” he commented. “Orris surprised me.”
“Us as well,” Baden concurred.
“He must believe that he has something to gain by going,” Sartol observed. He looked at Trahn. “Any idea what it might be?”
The muscles in Trahn’s jaw clenched, and the look in his green eyes seemed to harden. “The same could be asked of any of us,” he said pointedly. “We’ve all volunteered to enter a place that no one has ever survived. I’m sure we all have our motivations, wouldn’t you say, Sartol?” Listening to the Hawk-Mage, Jaryd suddenly remembered, from their conversation two nights before, that Trahn neither liked nor trusted Sartol.
And in that instant, for the first time since he had met Sartol, Jaryd saw a slight crack in the Owl-Master’s congenial facade. It didn’t last long, perhaps only the span of a single heartbeat. But the anger that Jaryd saw flash in Sartol’s pale eyes was palpable, and frightening. Glancing at Baden, and seeing the intensity of the look his uncle gave to Trahn, Jaryd realized that Baden had seen Sartol’s ire as well.
“Where do you come from, Alayna?” Jaryd found himself asking in an attempt to change the subject and break the tension.
To her credit, Alayna flashed him a grateful smile and cheerfully launched into a lengthy description of her home village of Brisalli at the northern edge of Tobyn’s Wood, near the shores of the Abborij Strait. Some of what she told him about the moist climate of her region and the dense woodlands surrounding her village reminded Jaryd of Accalia. But he remained acutely aware of the lingering animosity between the older mages with whom they sat, and he did not hear much of what she said. When Alayna finished, she asked the same question of Jaryd, but before he could answer, Sartol began to laugh.
“It seems that our young friends have already mastered the art of diplomacy,” he commented, smiling at Trahn and Baden. “Perhaps we might learn something from them.” He paused, turning to face Trahn. “I’m sorry, Trahn, if my question sounded inappropriate. I meant no harm, and I certainly didn’t mean to imply that Orris had done anything wrong; I’m simply aware that you know Orris better than I, and I believe many of us who have spent less time with him were surprised by his request to join the delegation.”
Trahn sat perfectly still for several seconds before he gave a sma
ll laugh as well. “I’m the one who should apologize, Sartol. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s been a difficult Gathering—for all of us—and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. The truth is,” he concluded, “I have no idea why Orris made his request, but he probably feels that he has a role to play in the resolution of this crisis.”
Sartol nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, and I’ll be glad to have him with us.” The Owl-Master turned to Jaryd. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, Jaryd,” he said in a congenial tone. “Please, tell us about your home.”
Jaryd glanced at Alayna, who offered a smile seemingly free of irony. “Actually,” he began, still holding Alayna’s gaze, “given what Alayna said about Brisalli, I’d say that our two villages are rather similar.” He turned to Sartol. “But let’s be frank, Owl-Master: we have more important things to discuss than the climate in Accalia.” Encompassing Trahn and Baden in his glance as well, he continued. “I’m honored to have been included in this delegation, but I’d like a better sense of what our journey, and our confrontation with Theron, are going to entail. What makes you think that we can survive an encounter with him when no one else has? How are we going to keep ourselves alive long enough to say to Theron whatever it is you intend to say?”
The older mages looked at one another. “I must say,” Sartol admitted, gazing at Baden from beneath the shock of black and silver hair, “I’ve wondered about this as well; it’s the question I tried to raise during yesterday’s discussion.”
“I remember,” Baden commented wryly, “and I did my best to avoid a direct answer.” He looked at Jaryd and then at Alayna. “Sartol and I got the two of you into this. Not that I doubt your willingness to go,” he added quickly, as both of the young mages began to object, “but we did volunteer you. You deserve an answer, Jaryd, but I don’t really have one. I don’t know what to expect. We’re going to be improvising under the most dangerous of conditions, and I’m counting on the collective wisdom and courage of the delegation to get us through.”
Jaryd shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said simply. His eyes flicked toward Alayna again. “Although I’ll be glad to have someone with us who knows a bit about Theron’s life.” He looked at Baden again. “How long will the journey itself take?”
Baden hesitated, calculating the distance and time in his mind. “I expect that Jessamyn will secure horses for the delegation,” he said at last, “in which case it should only take us a bit more than a fortnight.”
“Horses?” Jaryd asked, unable to conceal his alarm. “We’ll be riding?”
“It would be a very long walk, Jaryd,” Baden replied with some amusement. “And there is some urgency to our mission.”
“Is there a problem, Jaryd?” Trahn asked, suppressing a smirk. “Do you dislike horses?”
“No,” Jaryd responded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Horses are fine.” He hesitated. “The truth is,” he admitted with resignation, “I’ve never done much riding, and I’m not very comfortable with large animals.”
Baden shook his head. “Amazing,” he remarked in a voice laden with irony. “We’re going to Theron’s Grove, and he’s worried about his mount.”
The others laughed, and, after a moment, Jaryd joined in.
“In all seriousness, Jaryd,” Trahn offered at last, “you have nothing to fear from a horse. I’ve been riding since I was a boy and I’ll be more than happy to teach you what you need to know.”
Jaryd smiled gratefully at the Hawk-Mage and nodded. Just then, Jessamyn returned to her place at the head of the table and called the Order back into session. Trahn and Sartol moved quickly to the far side of the table, and Jaryd and Alayna walked together to their seats.
“That was an interesting exchange,” Alayna commented quietly along the way.
“Trahn and Sartol?” Jaryd asked.
She nodded.
“Yes, it was,” he agreed. He considered saying more, perhaps mentioning Trahn’s comments about Sartol two nights before. But, remembering that Alayna had been Sartol’s Mage-Attend, he thought better of it.
The rest of the afternoon proved to be far less eventful than the early part of the day had been. Jessamyn spent a good deal of time delegating responsibility for the preparations and gathering of provisions that would take place tomorrow. She also took care of many of the ceremonial functions that she had postponed the day before. Together, these things took up what remained of the afternoon, and, by the time the mages adjourned, the daylight filtering into the chamber had begun to fade. Jaryd felt listless and drained as Trahn, Baden, and he made their way back to the Aerie.
Alayna had joined Sartol and left the Great Hall almost immediately after Jessamyn ended the session, giving Jaryd little chance to say anything to her. And now, as he walked with his companions through the alleyways and streets, Jaryd found himself reflecting on his various interactions with the beautiful Hawk-Mage, and wondering whether she was thinking about him. At times she seemed so aloof, even hostile, that he felt she must despise him. But at other times, when he would glance at her, only to find her watching him, or when they would share a smile, Jaryd felt a bond and a kinship that belied the newness of their . . .
Of our what? Jaryd asked himself. They weren’t friends, not yet. They certainly weren’t in love. So what were they? Jaryd smiled inwardly and shook his head. We’re nothing, he told himself. At least for now, we’re nothing.
Trahn and Baden had been chatting as the three of them walked. But now, Trahn leaned forward slightly to look at Jaryd. “Our friend seems preoccupied,” he commented to Baden.
“Ah, don’t you see it, Trahn?” Baden asked with gravity. “Our friend is smitten.”
“Smitten?” Trahn repeated. And then, his vivid eyes narrowed into a sly look. “Alayna?”
“Alayna,” Baden responded knowingly.
“Don’t you two have more important things to talk about?” Jaryd asked with exasperation.
“More important? Certainly,” Baden remarked, grinning. “But nothing as entertaining.”
Jaryd rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.
“She’s very special, Jaryd,” Trahn said, his tone kind. “I can see why you would find her attractive. And,” he added, glancing at Baden, “I find it interesting that you both have bound to Amarid’s Hawk. Perhaps there’s meaning in that.”
“So you think that she and I—you think that it could work out?” Jaryd asked with sudden excitement.
“I don’t know,” Baden replied, winking at Trahn. “Do you want me to go back and ask her?”
“Come on, Baden!” Jaryd pressed. “I’m serious.”
Baden regarded his nephew for several moments saying nothing. Then he shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible,” he said cautiously. “I really don’t know much about Alayna. For all I know she’s married or betrothed. But even if she’s not, you should know that relationships among members of the Order can be difficult. That’s why most mages marry outside the Order. Right, Trahn?”
Trahn smiled. They had reached the Aerie, but they lingered in the darkening courtyard outside the inn as they continued to speak.
“Are you married, Trahn?” Jaryd asked, looking intently at the Hawk-Mage.
“Yes. My wife’s name is Siobhan. We’ve been married for nine years. We grew up together.”
“Do you have children?”
Trahn nodded and smiled broadly, as if he could see them there before him. “Two daughters; Jaynell is seven years, Osyth is four.”
Jaryd took a minute to absorb this before he turned to his uncle. “Have you ever been married, Baden?”
The Owl-Master gave a wry smile, although Jaryd thought that he saw a different emotion in the older man’s blue eyes. “No,” Baden said at length. “Although there was someone once who I believe was willing to spend her life with me, and I with her.”
“So what happened?”
Again, the mage smiled. “It didn’t work out,” he replied cryptically.
As Baden spoke, Jaryd remembered something he had seen during yesterday’s discussion. “Sonel?” he ventured.
Baden gave him a look of genuine surprise, and then the Owl-Master began to laugh. “You are quick, aren’t you? We’ll have to be on our toes with this one, Trahn,” he said to the Hawk-Mage, without taking his eyes from Jaryd. “Yes, Sonel and I were once in love,” he admitted quietly, “many years ago.” He paused for a long time, and when finally he spoke again, the crispness had returned to his voice. “So you see, Jaryd, when I warn you of the . . . challenges inherent in carrying on a relationship within the Order, I speak from experience.”
Jaryd nodded, his expression turning glum.
“I’m not telling you how to live your life,” Baden continued in a more gentle tone. “I’m certainly not telling you to forget about Alayna. That’s not my place. But you just met her, and you don’t know any more about her than I do. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Don’t you?”
Again, Jaryd nodded. “I guess,” he murmured. Without another word, the young mage opened the door to the Aerie and stepped inside. And ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the head by a hurled tankard that bounced off the frame of the door and clattered noisily to the floor. Jaryd barely had time to recover before he had to lurch to the side to avoid being crushed by two large men, locked in combat, who tumbled against the wall beside the door. As Jaryd struggled to regain his balance, Ishalla let out a sharp cry and dug her talons into his shoulder, tearing a gasp from his throat. After finally finding a safe place to stand, behind a broad wooden pillar several feet from the door, Jaryd saw that the rest of the tavern was as chaotic and dangerous as the doorway had been. Everywhere he looked, men and women wrestled and fought; tankards, goblets, and plates flew through the air; and tables and chairs, at least those not being used as weapons, lay overturned on the floor. In the center of the room stood Maimun, the enormous barkeep, who tried to restore calm to his inn, mostly by pummeling into unconsciousness those who were doing the fighting.