by DAVID B. COE
“According to Baram, they had hoped to render Tobyn-Ser defenseless by undercutting the people’s faith in the Order, and, eventually, destroying the Order itself. As we saw in Kaera and Watersbend, without the Mage-Craft protecting Tobyn-Ser from invasion, our people would have little chance against Lon-Ser’s weapons.”
Jaryd shook his head in confusion. “But if their own people didn’t support the idea, how could they have hoped to succeed?”
“Baram had nothing to say about that,” Baden replied, “but I have an idea or two. It sounded to me as if Lon-Ser is in the midst of a prolonged struggle for political power involving many groups. Perhaps the leaders of this one, of Baram’s group, were gambling that, if they could conquer Tobyn-Ser and deliver it to the people of Lon-Ser, they could overcome any opposition they might encounter and strengthen their own position in the process. It’s one thing to consider an invasion against an enemy of unknown strength, and quite another to accept the fruits of such an invasion without paying any of the costs.”
“So their very success, if they had succeeded, would have overcome any opposition.”
“Quite possibly, yes.”
“Whatever the thinking behind their actions,” Trahn commented, taking the discussion in a new direction, “it seems from what you’re telling us that the threat to Tobyn-Ser remains.”
Baden looked at his friend and nodded. “Of all the things I can tell you, that’s the one about which I have the least doubt. Lon-Ser’s problems haven’t gone away, and, as a result of what the outlanders did before we stopped them, the Order is weaker now than it’s been in nearly a thousand years. If anything, the threat is greater today than it was a year ago.”
Jaryd signaled his agreement with a nod. “Certainly the people Alayna and I encountered today have little faith in the Order. One man accused us of conspiring with the outlanders.”
“That crowd outside the Great Hall hasn’t gone away either,” Orris added. “I’m not sure what they want, but they haven’t exactly opened their arms to me as I’ve passed through.”
“So what do we do?” Alayna asked.
Baden glanced at Orris. “As I mentioned that night on Tobyn’s Plain, as the five of us rode in pursuit of Sartol, I believe the time has come to follow through on a suggestion Orris made at the Midsummer Gathering. We need to reestablish the psychic link.”
Orris regarded the Owl-Master with undisguised curiosity. “I remember you saying that. What made you change your mind about it?”
“I never really thought it was a bad idea,” Baden conceded. “I just knew that the Owl-Masters would oppose it, and I thought that the journey to Theron’s Grove was more likely to stop the attacks. I was wrong,” he added, “and, frankly, I regret speaking out against your proposal. In doing so, I may have hurt our chances of convincing the Order to act on it now.”
“You believe they’ll still resist the idea,” Jaryd asked, “even given what you’ve learned from the outlander?”
“I’m afraid I do,” the Owl-Master answered, staring at his half-empty tankard of ale. “What Theron and Phelan said about the Order is true: it has grown complacent. The outlanders’ campaign should never have been allowed to progress as far as it did. The Wolf-Master blamed Jessamyn, but I’m not certain that she could have compelled the Order to act even had she tried harder. During Amarid’s time, and as recently as just a few hundred years ago, the Order saw itself as the protector of the land, not only from plague or internal troubles, but also from outside threats. Yet, our own early success, our ability to resist the Abboriji invaders, for instance, convinced many mages that there were no longer any threats that merited our attention. In effect, we guarded the land so well that we made ourselves lazy. Our watch on the land’s borders slackened, the psychic link that Amarid first established was permitted to collapse, and still no one attacked us. I guess, up until now, we’ve been defended by our history, and the reputation it gave us.” He looked up, his gaze falling on each of the Hawk-Mages. “Apparently, that’s no longer enough.”
“Although I agree that it won’t be easy,” Trahn said, “we must push for the link. That’s our best hope.”
“I agree,” Orris chimed in, “but I’m not confident. Odinan seems to be digging in his heels, and he still has some support among the Owl-Masters. We should have other alternatives to offer.” He grinned ruefully. “Unfortunately, I can’t think of any.”
The other mages chuckled, and Baden, draining what remained of his ale, signaled to Kayle for another round.
Jaryd turned to his uncle. “Won’t the success or failure of our effort to reestablish the link depend in part on whom the Owl-Masters choose as the next Owl-Sage?”
Baden raised his eyebrows slightly, indicating that he hadn’t considered this. “I suppose it will,” he confirmed.
“Who do you expect they’ll choose?” Alayna asked him.
Kayle brought their drinks before the Owl-Master could respond, and, after she departed, Baden, Trahn, and Orris embarked on a lengthy, speculative discussion of the various possible contenders for the position. At one point, without actually mentioning Anla’s death, Jaryd expressed his regret that Baden could not be selected, a sentiment Trahn echoed. Baden just laughed, however, assuring them all that it was not a job he coveted.
Their conversation stretched on into the night, ending only after much of the tavern’s other clientele had left. Given how late it had grown, Jaryd and Alayna decided to take a room at the Aerie for the night. Wearily, they rose from their seats to follow Trahn and Orris toward the wooden stairs that led to the Aerie’s guest rooms.
“Jaryd,” Baden called from the table, where he still sat, sipping the last of his ale, “may I have a word with you before you go to sleep?” The Owl-Master turned his gaze to Alayna and smiled. “I’ll return him to you shortly, I promise.”
She nodded and continued up the stairs, as Jaryd returned to the table.
“I know you’re tired,” Baden began as Jaryd sat back down, “so I won’t keep you very long. But I’m wondering if you and Alayna have decided on where you’re going to settle once you leave Amarid.”
The inquiry took the Hawk-Mage by surprise, and for several moments he did not respond.
“You have thought about this, haven’t you?” Baden persisted.
“Of course, although we haven’t talked about it very much.” Jaryd faltered, staring thoughtfully at the table. “Before I met Alayna, I assumed that I’d go back to Accalia, and she assumed the same thing about Brisalli. Falling in love kind of complicated things.” He paused. “Each of us is willing to follow the other, and now that Sartol is dead, northern Tobyn-Ser needs a new mage or two. Of course, Radomil has been the only mage in the northwest for a few years now, and he could use the help as well.” He looked his uncle in the eye. “The short answer is, we haven’t decided yet. We could, conceivably, end up in either place. Why do you ask?”
Baden grinned enigmatically. “Curiosity.”
Jaryd responded with a skeptical look, drawing a laugh from the Owl-Master. “All right,” Baden admitted, “it’s more than just curiosity. But for now, I’d ask you to leave me this secret, Jaryd. I’ll explain soon enough.” He paused. “I’d also like you and Alayna to keep an open mind for the time being.”
Jaryd looked at his uncle searchingly, but after a few seconds he nodded.
“That’s all,” Baden told him. “You go join Alayna; I think I might have another ale.”
Jaryd rose, but his gaze lingered on the Owl-Master’s lean features. Baden seemed uncharacteristically subdued, and, once again, Jaryd had to remind himself that Anla was gone. “Are you all right, Baden?” he asked. “Do you want me to stay?”
The mage smiled sadly. “That’s kind of you, but I think I’m better off alone.” He looked up, meeting Jaryd’s eyes. “As to whether I’m all right, I suppose I’m about as well as I could have expected myself to be under the circumstances.” He averted his eyes again. “I know that’
s not the answer you’d like to hear, but it’s the best I can do.”
“I’m sorry, Baden.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.”
Jaryd placed a hand on the Owl-Master’s shoulder and allowed it to linger there a moment before he stepped away and climbed the stairs to his room.
Alayna had left a single candle burning, but she was already in bed, breathing in a slow, regular rhythm. Jaryd tried to make as little noise as possible as he undressed and slipped under the covers, but she stirred and rolled over to face him.
“What did Baden want?” she asked sleepily, her eyes still closed.
“He wanted to know if we had decided where we’re going to settle.”
“What did you tell him?” she asked in the same tired voice.
“That we hadn’t decided yet.”
She made a small sound that may have signaled agreement. Jaryd wasn’t certain. And, after a short time, her breathing slowed again, telling him that she was asleep.
Jaryd closed his eyes and tried to sleep as well, but Baden’s question had started his mind working. For some time now, since Theron’s Grove, really, Jaryd had taken for granted that he and Alayna would spend the rest of their lives together. And he had assumed that she shared this view. So, too, it seemed, had Baden. But his own inability to answer the Owl-Master’s question made him realize that he and Alayna had made no firm plans. Indeed, they had hardly even discussed in general terms their future life together. Mostly, they had talked about their respective homes, as if they were trying to convince each other that one or the other would be the best place to live. He knew, listening to Alayna’s gentle breathing beside him, that above all else, he wanted to be with this woman; to build a life with her, perhaps to have a family. And yet, he found it very difficult to let go of his dream of serving Accalia as a Hawk-Mage. Lying in the dark, wrestling with these thoughts, it was inevitable that his mind should wander back to the conversation he had had with Baden and Trahn so long ago, about the difficulties inherent in carrying on romances within the Order. Now, as then, he refused to accept that the problems could not be overcome, but, he had to admit, they did seem more daunting than he had anticipated. And, once more, he wondered why Baden had raised the issue. These questions kept him awake for some time, and even when his eyes finally did close, and his breathing slowed as Alayna’s had done, they continued to trouble his sleep.
Several days passed before Baden finally revealed why he had been so interested in Jaryd and Alayna’s plans. In the meantime, the Order held an open service honoring Jessamyn, Peredur, and Niall, and the Owl-Masters, after a full day of rancorous debate and secret balloting, selected Sonel as the new sage. She then chose Toinan as her first, seeking to mollify Odinan and the older masters, who had opposed her in favor of one of their own. Emerging from the Gathering Chamber late in the day, the Owl-Masters declared that the Sage-Naming would take place two days hence. Normally, such an announcement would have brought rejoicing and great anticipation to the people of Amarid. The next day, however, a small group from the horde that still lingered outside the Great Hall attempted to storm the building, apparently in an effort to find and kill the outlander, whom they now believed the Order was more interested in guarding than punishing. The men and women involved in this assault on the Great Hall were arrested by the city constable before they could do any harm, but the incident cast a pall over the preparations for the Sage-Naming. For the first time in the history of the Order, the mages were forced to ask the city constable to place guards along the route to be taken by the procession that would open the ritual.
The morning of the ceremony dawned grey and misty. And, while spectators had begun with first light to line the city streets, the conspicuous presence of the constable’s officers dampened the spirit of the occasion. As the mages and masters converged on Amarid’s home to line up in the procession, Baden approached Jaryd and Alayna, who had arrived early and taken their places at the end of the column. Jaryd had hardly seen his uncle since their conversation in the Aerie; Baden had spent the intervening days in deliberation with the Owl-Masters and conducting further interrogations of the outlander.
The Owl-Master looked tired and thin as he greeted the young mages, but the smile he wore seemed genuine. “Ready for your first Sage-Naming?” he asked them, nodding and waving to some of the other mages as he did.
“I guess so,” Alayna replied, “although, given what happened yesterday, it doesn’t feel like much of a celebration.”
“I agree,” Baden said sourly. “I told Sonel that I thought the guards were a bad idea, but, in truth, I understand her reasoning.” He shook his head. “These are dark times,” he concluded, more to himself than to the young mages.
“I’m not really certain what’s going to happen today,” Jaryd commented in an effort to change the subject. “What are we supposed to do?”
“You don’t have to worry about doing anything,” Baden told him. “Just follow the lead of the older mages and you’ll be fine. As to what’s going to happen,” he went on, “that’s changed over the years. Once, long before I joined the Order, the Owl-Sage was actually named at this ceremony—the Owl-Masters discussed the merits and shortcomings of the various candidates in public view, casting their ballots in secret, but with an audience. As my grandmother told it to me, however, one particularly nasty debate ended that practice for good. Now, this is little more than a formality; an open validation of the decision the Owl-Masters made in closed session two days ago.”
“That sounds like a much better idea,” Jaryd observed. “Less chance for hurt feelings.”
Baden nodded. “I guess so, although I’ve witnessed three Sage-Namings now, and all the deliberations have been quite civil.” Baden paused to wave again as several Owl-Masters made their way past where the three mages were standing. A moment later, though, he turned his attention back to the young mages, looking intently at Alayna, and then at Jaryd. “So,” the Owl-Master began, his tone changing and the expression in his pale eyes growing more serious, even as the smile lingered on his lips, “have you two decided anything yet?”
“No,” Jaryd admitted. “But it might help us make up our minds if you explained why you’re so interested.”
The Owl-Master considered this briefly. “All right,” he agreed. “The concerns I expressed to the four of you the other night about Tobyn-Ser’s safety, and the role of the Order in preserving it, started me thinking that even if the entire Order won’t act, a few of us might. I’ve already spoken with Sonel about the possibility of forging the psychic link again. She’s sympathetic, but she’s not convinced that the Owl-Masters will go along with it, at least not yet. And she’s not willing to force them to comply, not with something this draining and difficult.” He hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone else could hear.
“That being the case, I’m trying to put together a small group of mages—five or ten, more if possible—who would be willing to join me in creating our own link, one that would cast a protective net of sorts over the western edge of Tobyn-Ser, from the northern extreme of Leora’s Forest to the top of the Sawblade.”
“Does Sonel know about this?” Jaryd asked, eyeing his uncle closely.
Baden shook his head. “I don’t think she’d object, but others would—Odinan and his allies—and they could make things very difficult for her if they learned that she knew about this. I’d rather take the blame myself if we’re discovered.”
Alayna passed a hand through her dark hair. “Who have you got so far?”
“Trahn, of course; Radomil; Ursel; Orris and me, once we’ve bound again. And Orris thinks that he can get a few of the other younger mages to join us.” Baden faltered. “I would have asked the two of you sooner,” he explained. “But I didn’t want to disrupt your plans, if you had any. This is an important time for the two of you, and I don’t want anything to get in the way.” He allowed himself a slight smile. “But, with Niall gone, the Lower Horn currently has no m
age serving it. And I think, if I was looking for a place to settle down, I’d find that part of Tobyn-Ser quite attractive. But that’s just me.” He stopped, his eyes meeting Jaryd’s for just an instant before he glanced back over his shoulder. “The procession will be starting soon,” he said, despite the fact that most of the mages were still milling about, speaking to one another. “We can discuss this again later if you’d like.” He started to move off. “Enjoy the ceremony,” he called to them over his shoulder.
Jaryd and Alayna stood in silence watching the Owl-Master walk away. They had discussed their future together a number of times over the past three days, most recently the night before as they lay together in the candlelight in their room at the Aerie. But, while they had professed their desire to be together, they had reached no conclusions regarding where they wished to go. Baden’s suggestion changed things.
“I’ve assumed for so long that I’d end up in Brisalli,” Alayna murmured, echoing his thoughts as she broke their silence, “that I never even considered other places. And I know you’ve felt the same way about Accalia.” She turned to him, her eyes large and dark, and so deep that he thought he might lose himself in them. “But I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together, Jaryd. That’s all I want.’’
So deep that he wondered sometimes what they saw in him. She was so strong, and intelligent, and beautiful; and she loved him. Somehow, she loved him. Suddenly, Jaryd felt himself overwhelmed by the fullness of his life. “Do you mean that?” he managed. “You’d give up Brisalli?”