CHILDREN OF AMARID

by DAVID B. COE

  He followed Sartol and Alayna back into the Gathering Chamber, where Baden and Trahn chatted casually with Jessamyn, Peredur, and several other mages. With a polite word of thanks to Sartol, who had begun to speak with an Owl-Master Jaryd did not know, and a brief glance at Alayna, who continued to avoid his gaze, Jaryd walked over to where Baden and Trahn stood. His friends made room for him in their circle, but they continued their conversation, which, he gathered, concerned a heated argument between two mages during a Gathering several years ago that had centered on a rather obscure point of protocol, but had developed into a bitter personal feud. Jaryd recognized few of the names he heard and he quickly lost interest.

  He found himself glancing around the room. The light in the chamber had already begun to wane with the onset of evening, and, as the sky outside continued to darken, more and more mages entered the Great Hall. Soon, the attendants of the hall, in their flowing blue robes, emerged from the back room and began to light dozens of candles, which they placed in holders and distributed at evenly spaced intervals around the perimeter of the chamber. As he watched the lighting of the candles, Jaryd noticed Orris, standing alone in a far corner of the chamber, staring at the circle of mages of which Jaryd was a part. The burly mage quickly looked away when he realized that Jaryd had spotted him. But the expression that Jaryd had seen on Orris’s face made him uncomfortable, and, Jaryd realized with some surprise, left him feeling sympathy for the disagreeable Hawk-Mage.

  A moment later, Jessamyn stood up and rapped her staff on the marble floor. “It is time,” she announced, in a voice that stopped every conversation in the chamber.

  Jaryd looked at Baden in confusion. “For what?” he asked.

  “The Procession of Light,” the Owl-Master replied, his blue eyes appearing to dance in the flickering glow of the candles. “We will retrace the path of the opening procession to Amarid’s home, where we’ll feast and Jessamyn will lead the closing ceremonies.” Jaryd thought that Baden wanted to say more, but instead, the mage moved to take his place in the procession. Jaryd started to follow, but then, suddenly conscious of Ishalla sitting on his shoulder, he stopped and tried to figure out where he was supposed to go.

  Unlike the opening procession, which began as a simple column, this procession seemed to begin with the mages lining the perimeter of the hall, each man or woman positioned just in front of one of the candles. Spotting Alayna, who had already assumed her place in the circle, Jaryd walked to the vacant space to her right. As usual, she ignored him. But when one of the attendants came before the two of them and presented each with a woven basket, large and deep enough to hold a loaf of bread, she shot him a questioning look.

  He shrugged in response. “I have no idea,” he commented.

  Alayna turned to the mage standing next to her, a tall young woman who carried a small, dark falcon on her shoulder and who, unlike Alayna and Jaryd, had already received her cloak and found her ceryll. “Neysa, do you know what these baskets are for?” Alayna asked.

  The woman was already looking at them, and had registered their confusion. “Yes,” she responded enigmatically, an indulgent smile on her lips. “You’ll understand soon enough,” she added kindly. “Carry them with you as we walk through the streets of the city, and savor what you’re about to experience.”

  She turned to look at Jessamyn, as did Alayna and Jaryd, and, as if on cue, the Owl-Sage, her large, white owl perched on her shoulder, raised her staff, with its glowing aqua ceryll, and extinguished the candle beside her with a quick breath. Immediately, Peredur, standing beside her, raised his pearl-colored ceryll and blew out the candle next to which he stood. The next mage followed suit, and so on around the chamber as the yellow flicker of the candles gave way to the steady rainbow of light given off by the crystals of the Order. Jaryd watched Baden lift his radiant orange stone up above Anla’s head, and, a few seconds later, he saw Trahn raise his staff, which was crowned with a rich, reddish-brown ceryll.

  As the process neared its end, Jaryd became acutely aware of his lack of a ceryll, and he wondered what they expected him to do.

  “This much I’ve seen,” Alayna whispered, as if reading his thoughts. “Just blow out your candle when it’s your turn.”

  He nodded once. “Thanks,” he whispered back, and was gratified to see her glance at him briefly and smile.

  Their turns came quickly, and when Jaryd extinguished his candle, the only light left in the chamber was that cast by the myriad cerylls held aloft by the mages. Without pause, Jessamyn began leading the Order out of the chamber and into the streets of Amarid. It took some time for the entire procession to work its way outside, but even before he reached the door, Jaryd could hear the cheers of the people greeting the mages as they emerged from the Great Hall. When finally he and Alayna stepped out into the night air, Jaryd saw that all the lanterns along the street encircling the Great Hall had been extinguished, and all the window shades in the buildings lining the street had been drawn, so that, aside from the half moon shining brightly overhead, the cerylls continued to provide the only light. Seemingly thousands of people lined the street, cheering the Order and, at least for the evening, obscuring the memory of yesterday’s attack on the Great Hall. And as Alayna and he reached the bottom of the marble stairs and stepped onto the cobblestone street, people from the crowd began to approach them. The first to reach them was a small, light-haired girl, accompanied by her mother, who stepped in front of Alayna and dropped a small feather into the woven basket Alayna had been handed just a few moments before.

  “Wear your cloak well, Daughter of Amarid,” the girl said shyly, glancing back at her mother occasionally for reassurance, “and may Arick guard you.”

  Alayna started to thank the girl, but, before she could, another person, this one a handsome young man, placed another feather in her basket. “Wear your cloak well, Daughter of Amarid, and may Arick guard you,” he repeated in a serious tone.

  By this time, an elderly man had placed a feather in Jaryd’s basket. “Wear your cloak well, Son of Amarid, and may Arick guard you,” he said with a wink and a grin.

  So it went for the entire journey around the Great Hall and through the streets of the city to Amarid’s old home. All along the route, which was lined with crowds of people, the street lanterns had been turned off. Only the light of the cerylls guided them, and Jaryd thought that he had never seen anything as beautiful as the glowing, prismatic column that stretched out before him through the city thoroughfare. As the procession moved through the streets, literally hundreds of men, women, and children approached Jaryd and Alayna, dropped feathers in their baskets, and welcomed them to the Order with the ritualistic greeting. Some smiled, or even laughed, while others remained solemn. And by the time the Order reached the wooded grounds of the First Mage’s home, both Jaryd’s basket and Alayna’s overflowed with feathers of various sizes and colors.

  Beginning at the very fringes of the land set aside around Amarid’s home, and continuing as the procession wound along the path that led to the house itself, Jaryd saw dozens and dozens of large round tables bathed in light cast by tree-mounted torches, and covered with flasks of wine and platters of meats, greens, fruits, breads, cheeses, and cakes.

  “On this night,” Neysa commented, looking over her shoulder at the two younger mages walking behind her, “the Order feeds all of Amarid. It’s our way of saying thanks to them for hosting the Gathering.”

  Glancing behind him, Jaryd realized that the throng lining the procession’s path had, in turn, followed the Order to the First Mage’s home, and was now spreading out among the food-laden tables, singing songs, laughing, and reaching first for the wine carafes.

  “All of Amarid?” Jaryd asked incredulously.

  “All who choose to come,” Neysa answered, surveying the scene with amusement.

  Jaryd turned again to watch the people taking their seats, and, as he did, his thoughts went back to the conversation he had shared with Baden earlier that day
. Perhaps this was part of what the Owl-Master meant when he said that the Order did pay back, in its own way, the wealth it had received from the people of Tobyn-Ser.

  Neysa, Alayna, and Jaryd hurried to catch up with the rest of the mages, who had reached Amarid’s house and begun to seat themselves around a large, horseshoe-shaped table. There did not seem to be any formal seating arrangement, although Jessamyn and Peredur sat at the top of the U, and Jaryd noticed that Trahn and Baden had saved him a place between them. Alayna moved quickly to sit beside Sartol; and, with a smile and a brief word of congratulations on Jaryd’s recent binding, Neysa joined several of her friends, leaving Jaryd to make his way to where Baden and Trahn sat.

  They were grinning as he reached them. “How did you enjoy your first Procession of Light?” Trahn asked.

  Jaryd smiled broadly in reply, and held out his basket of feathers for his friends to see.

  “I still have many of the feathers I was given when I first walked in the procession,” Baden said, pulling out Jaryd’s chair and gesturing for the young mage to sit down. “I leave one each time I perform some service for the people, but I still haven’t come close to running out. I still save Anla’s feathers,” he added, stroking the brown owl’s chin, “just in case I ever need more. But I don’t think I’ll ever get to them.”

  “What did you do with your baskets?” Jaryd asked them both.

  Trahn chuckled. “The basket you give back.”

  Jaryd gave a small laugh. “Then how do I carry all these feathers?”

  Baden looked at him with a puzzling grin. “How, indeed?” he responded mysteriously.

  The blue-robed attendants of the Great Hall, aided by other stewards wearing red robes, who, Jaryd learned, cared for Amarid’s home, brought platters of food to the mages’ table. There was roasted fowl and mutton, cooked greens, and rich, spicy stews that surpassed in flavor anything Jaryd had ever tasted. There were several kinds of breads and cakes, a startling variety of fruits, and pungent cheeses that were complemented perfectly by the robust, dark wine that flowed so freely with the meal. And through it all there was music played by skilled musicians and sung by honey-voiced bards who described with appropriate humor or heartache Tobyn-Ser’s greatest triumphs and most bitter tragedies. Helped by the wine, and the torchlight, and the swirling melodies, Jaryd could almost see Arick sundering the one land into Tobyn-Ser and Lon-Ser, and hear Duclea’s cries of despair at her husband’s wrath and their sons’ disgrace. He imagined himself sharing Amarid’s wonder at the First Mage’s discovery of the Mage-Craft, and he found himself sobbing quietly to the strains of “Amarid’s Lament,” the song written so many centuries ago after the death of Dacia, Amarid’s wife.

  After what seemed to be hours of celebrating, the music abruptly ceased, and Jessamyn stood, white-haired and smiling, and silenced them all with a simple gesture. Whatever her own doubts of her ability to lead the Order, Jaryd thought to himself in that moment, there could be no doubt that the other mages believed wholly in her, and would have followed her anywhere, even into Theron’s Grove, if she asked.

  “This year has seen the passing of three of Amarid’s Children,” she said in a voice both commanding and forlorn. “Verene, who served the Upper Horn; Holik, who served the Emerald Hills; and Sawni, who served the Great Desert, and who once was mentor to Trahn.”

  Jaryd looked over at his friend and saw tears flowing down his dark cheeks.

  “Let us be silent for a moment,” the Owl-Sage went on, “as we ask Arick and Duclea to open their arms to our friends.”

  The silence in the grove surrounding Amarid’s house was a palpable thing, shaped not only by the mages of the Order, but by the thousands who had followed them through the streets to this place and had somehow heard Jessamyn’s entreaty.

  A moment later, Jessamyn broke the silence with a voice suddenly filled with joy and excitement. “This year has also seen the first binding of two who wish to serve this land with the Mage-Craft. Alayna of Brisalli, and Jaryd of Accalia, would you please come and stand before me?”

  Jaryd stood, as did Baden, who offered an encouraging smile and then led Jaryd to the spot indicated by the Owl-Sage. The young mage suddenly felt acutely conscious of Ishalla’s talons gripping his shoulder, and of her presence in his mind. He was growing more and more accustomed to the link they shared. Indeed, he was already having trouble remembering what it had been like before their binding, before he had constant access to her perceptions. He knew that most people in Tobyn-Ser spent their entire lives with just their own thoughts, without this magical connection. It suddenly struck him as a very lonely way to live.

  In another moment, he and Baden, and Alayna and Sartol, stepped into the space created by the U-shaped table and stopped in front of where Jessamyn now stood regarding them with a smile on her lips. Jaryd glanced briefly at Alayna, and found that she was already looking at him with a strange expression on her delicate, attractive features.

  “Alayna and Jaryd,” the Owl-Sage began, “Arick has favored you both with exceptional first bindings. Indeed, I must deviate somewhat from the normal course of this ceremony to acknowledge publicly what many of us have noted in private: this is the first time in any of our memories that we have welcomed to the Order two mages in the same year who have bound to Amarid’s Hawk. I know not what that bodes,” she added, glancing briefly at Baden and Sartol, “but I think it must be something splendid.” She paused before recommencing the rite. “You both have been welcomed by the mages and masters of this Order. Now you both must choose. Will you vow to use the powers you possess in service to this land?”

  “I will,” Jaryd and Alayna responded simultaneously.

  “Will you vow to honor the laws created by Amarid to govern this Order?”

  “I will,” the young mages intoned.

  “Recite the laws with me now,” Jessamyn commanded.

  Jaryd had not tried consciously to remember Amarid’s Laws since that night in the Seaside Mountains, so many weeks ago, when Baden had spoken them to the darkness. If someone had asked him earlier this day whether he could repeat them, Jaryd would probably have said no. But here, in front of Jessamyn, with the entire Order and most of the city of Amarid watching, with the First Mage himself seeming to hover at his shoulder, Jaryd found the words and gave them voice.

  “I shall serve the people of the land,” he declared in unison with Alayna. “I shall be the arbiter of disputes. I shall use my powers to give aid and comfort in times of need.

  “I shall never use my powers to extract service or payment from the powerless.

  “I shall never use my powers against another mage. Our disputes shall be judged by the Order.

  “I shall never harm my familiar.”

  There was a brief silence, and then a cheer went up around the table, which was echoed and amplified by the multitude surrounding Amarid’s home. The cheering went on and on, stretching to a roar and soaring upward into the night. Standing there listening to the crowd, Jaryd knew that the cheers were meant as much for the Order and Amarid as they were for Alayna and him, probably more. But he also heard in the voices a plea, intended, he thought, for the two young mages to make whole again, for the Order and for Tobyn-Ser, what had been defiled by the recent attacks. And hearing that plea, he silently vowed to do so.

  As the cheers died away, Jessamyn gazed at Sartol and then at Baden. “They are ready,” she said simply.

  Jaryd felt a light hand on his shoulder and, turning toward Baden, he saw that the Owl-Master held a new hooded cloak of forest green. Like Baden’s, its sleeves and hood were edged with a delicate, pale green trim, and its sash was intricately embroidered in black and gold. Jaryd was relieved to see that the arms and shoulders of the cloak were reinforced with strips of leather to afford him some protection from Ishalla’s talons. He also noticed that the pockets within the cloak were ample enough to hold all the feathers he had been given during the Procession of Light.

  Smiling so b
roadly that his cheeks began to ache, Jaryd turned his back to Baden and spread his arms, allowing his uncle to put the cloak on him. Alayna had also turned to allow Sartol to do the same, and the two of them stood facing each other, both grinning, while Ishalla and Fylimar leapt from their shoulders into the air. A moment later, after both of them had received their cloaks and had turned to face Jessamyn once more, the two slate-colored birds, seemingly identical, settled back on their shoulders.

  “Congratulations,” Jessamyn said with a smile as the cheers returned. And suddenly they were surrounded by the other mages, who offered handshakes and hugs and welcomed them to the Order. But before both of them were swept up in the whirl of people and festivity, Jaryd turned back to Alayna and gazed into her dark eyes. “Congratulations, Hawk-Mage Alayna,” he whispered.

  She offered a smile in reply. “And you, Hawk-Mage Jaryd.”

  The rest of the night seemed a kaleidoscope of song and dance and wine. The musicians returned, supplemented by several more players, who added energy and rhythm to the ballads sung earlier. Jaryd, not usually inclined to dance, found himself compelled by both the music and an invitation from Jessamyn to do so anyway. And before the night was over he danced with a number of townswomen and several of the female mages, including Alayna once, although only briefly, and only because that particular dance involved the frequent exchange of partners. Mostly he danced with Kayle, who found him as soon as his first dance with Jessamyn had ended and stayed close to him for much of the night.