Ellenessia's Curse Book 1: The Shadow's Seer

by Fran Jacobs

  "As you wish," Milan said, always the one to speak just a little more than his brother. They gave me curt little bows and headed towards the door.

  "And have a servant bring us up some supper," Trellany added.

  Milan nodded his head, then the brothers were gone and I let out my breath with a relieved sigh. As soon as I was reminded of the fact that they were standing there, everything always felt tense and awkward, a tension only broken when they left, or I was able to forget about them again.

  "Are they always that quiet?" I asked Trellany. "I mean, it's one thing to be like a statue when there are a lot of us in the room, but they never speak even when it's just the four of us. Sometimes I forget that they're even there."

  "It's a gift," Trellany said, almost sounding jealous. "If people forget that they're there, they can do their job better."

  "Yes, that's true," I said.

  "Would you like to open your gifts now?"

  I grinned. "What do you think?" I said.

  I had a collection of small, but expensive gifts. There was a new silver pin in the shape of a twisting dragon, with purple amethyst eyes; two crystal decanters of brandy; a leather bound book of dragon stories, both myths and 'factual' accounts; a set of hand-painted glass goblets; a beautiful oil painting, again a dragon, in a heavy gilt frame; and a soft white shirt, clearly embroidered by my mother's hand. It had small gold and purple dragons, twisting their way around gold vine leaves, around the hem and the sleeves and on the collar. And, finally, there was a gift unlike all the others, a large wooden chest, the length of my arm, carved all over with dragons, unicorns, griffins and winged horses. There was so much attention to detail that it took my breath away. Tiny scales on the dragons' backs and wings, feathers on the wings of the griffins, and the manes and tails of the unicorns and winged horses were so realistic I almost thought I would feel hair beneath my fingers when I traced over them. There was real passion and life carved in those creatures' wooden eyes. I had never seen anything like it. I ran my fingers over the chest, looking for some way to open it, but there was no line to show the lid, no lock, nothing.

  "What's this?" I whispered, mostly to myself. "A wooden box?"

  "It's a Kyeranian mystery box," Trellany said, in an awed voice.

  "A what?" I didn't know much about Kyerania, other than its trade history. I did know that it was fairly wealthy, despite being a small, forest kingdom, because of its skilled craftsmen who could produce various, fine crafted wooden objects. If this box truly was from Kyerania, then its wealth and reputation were well deserved.

  "These are very expensive, Candale. I've never seen one before, but I have heard about them. My father made a small version for my sister on her wedding day, but it was nothing like this." She ran her calloused fingers over the carved wooden surface. "Each box is different, but they all have secret compartments. Push different sections of it and a different part will pop out. You can hide whatever you want in here as I doubt anyone except the carver knows how to open all of it."

  "Gods," I whispered.

  "Your grandfather must have gotten this for you."

  "Yes," I said, running my fingers over a carved unicorn. I wouldn't have to worry about where to hide my seer journal now I had this gorgeous box.

  "There's a definite theme here with your gifts," Trellany noted.

  "I like dragons," I said. "So it was safe that I'd like anything with a dragon on it." I got to my feet. "I better go unpack," I said. "Let me know when supper arrives."

  "Of course."

  Most of my clothes were filthy and full of holes, so I decided to just remove the items that I wanted from my saddlebags and then leave them for the servants to deal with. By the time that was done, supper had arrived and, following that, I headed to bed, exhausted. Coming home had drained me more than I had thought, yet when I was curled up beneath my soft red coverings, staring up at the black hole that was my canopy in the dark, I couldn't sleep. For hours I tossed and turned and just when I thought sleep would never come, I finally drifted off, only to wake screaming from a nightmare that I couldn't remember.

  I braved a public breakfast the next morning and, almost as soon as I walked into the hall, courtiers, asking me questions about my stay in White Oaks, surrounded me. Sorron had told the Court that he, and my father, had reconsidered my request to leave Court, and finally decided to allow it, because I had still been upset over everything that had happened to me. But, because my life was in danger, he had refused to tell anyone where I had gone, just that I was safe, but now that I was home again there was no reason to hide it. Unfortunately, White Oaks was a mysterious place to many of the courtiers, and they had a lot of questions which would have kept me busy for hours if it hadn't been for Silver's arrival. The presence of a mage was far more interesting than anything I had to say, and I was able to slip away and take my place with my family, leaving poor Silver alone to handle all the questions.

  After breakfast I had my first council meeting. It had been my father's idea. Now that I was officially an adult he thought it was time that I started to play a role in the running of the kingdom. It was something that I had been looking forward to for years, my mind filled with romantic images of heated debates over policies and passionate discussions about policies, only I quickly found that was far from the truth. The meetings were complicated, slow and boring. An endless sea of details, of old treaties, laws and policies, all of which influenced any possible decision that could be made concerning any problem being debated. For every seemingly simple problem, there were an endless supply of reasons why this, or that, couldn't work. I had no idea how my grandfather, or father, kept track of it all. And they weren't the only ones who seemed to have such a good grasp of it, every single member of the council, all fifteen of them, seven men and eight women, seemed to know all the minute details as well. For hours they all argued and debated, bringing up historical references, literary references, old treatises, new treatises, information brought in from diplomats and spies. I had no idea what any of them were talking about; it made my head spin. And, glancing behind me at Trellany and Silver, I could see that they had no idea either. Trellany's face was blank, but there was boredom in her eyes, while Silver was fidgeting in place, yawning almost continually. I was much the same, having to fight off every yawn, or the urge to shift and squirm in my chair, to sketch little patterns on the parchment or table, or to count the panels on the roof. I'd thought my lessons in White Oaks boring, now I saw them just as a test, as something that I wished I had mastered to help me prepare for this.

  We had lunch there in the main council room, and wine, which I drank a little too much of. And then Sorron turned to me, with an amused grin. "Well," he said, "that's enough for you for today."

  "What?" I gasped. "Why?"

  "Do you really want to stay longer?" Gerian asked me, with an amused smile so much like his father's that there could be no doubting, even to a stranger, that these two men were closely related. "Even I am painfully aware that these meetings are a necessary boredom."

  "I thought I had to start acting the part of prince and heir. I thought ..."

  "You do," Sorron said. "And you will. But you have to take it slowly. You've been away from Court for a long time, we need to introduce you back into this gradually. We don't want you to have a fit from overwork, so you're free to go now, Candale."

  "Although we will have to work out when and where your schooling lessons will fit into this," my father said. "Because it's clear, from the blank face that you wore most of the morning, that you need a little more work on some subjects."

  I gave him an abashed, embarrassed look. "It has been a while," I admitted.

  "And you will need to start taking sword lessons again," he added.

  "Yes," I agreed. I pushed back my chair, a little too hastily and it rocked on its feet before Trellany reached out to catch it and stabilise it. "But, if you are sure I can go ..." And with my guards close behind me, I fled.

  O
ut in the coolness of the corridor, I sighed with relief. "Gods," I said. "I had no idea it would be like that, that it would be so hard." I glanced at my guards. "I'm sorry, it can't have been very interesting for you."

  "It's our duty," Trellany replied, with a shrug.

  I could see from the look on Silver's face that he didn't share her feelings, but there was nothing I could do. He was the only mage guard that I had and I knew Sorron wouldn't allow him to leave my side. He had already made that very clear to both of us.

  "What would you like to do now?" Trellany asked.

  "I thought we could go outside, get some fresh air," I said. "And I can plant the acorn Hazel gave me. I thought Mother's garden would be the best place and I know she won't mind."

  We went to my rooms first, so that I could fetch the acorn, and then we headed down to garden. As we were walking through, looking for somewhere quiet and secluded to plant the acorn, I spotted a familiar form. Silnia. Slender and small, she was kneeling by a rose bed, her dark curly hair piled up into a graceful knot on the top of head. I didn't even look at my guards as I left the gravelled path to join her.

  "Candale," she said, getting to her feet as she heard me approach. "Is the meeting over?"

  "Father didn't want me to overdo it my first day back," I said. "So he gave me the afternoon off, thankfully."

  "The meetings can be long and tedious, but they're still very important," Silnia said. She wiped her hands on a handkerchief. "But I do think your father is being overly cautious. I know that you can handle all this new responsibility, the meetings and the work that comes with it."

  "Yes," I said. "I'm determined to."

  My mother looked me up and down and reached out with her soft hands to gently stroke my shirt across my body. It was the one she had embroidered for me. "I'm glad that you like the shirt, Dale," she said, "and that you're wearing it. It looks good. You look good. Healthy."

  "Thank you," I said, slightly embarrassed by the way she was analysing me. Her hand was still stroking at my shirt, so I reached out and took her wrist in my hand and turned her hand palm up. Silnia's eyes were quizzical until I dropped Hazel's white acorn into her palm and they brightened. "Oh," she breathed. "This is exquisite. Is it painted?"

  "No," I said. "It's a real white acorn."

  "How is that possible?" she asked.

  "It's a seed from one of the oak trees that the mage school was named after. It's white because the trees grow on a point where lines of magical energy cross," Silver explained. Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to and he flushed and gave an embarrassed bow. "Your Highness."

  "I'd like to plant it," I told Silnia. "To see if it will grow. Hazel gave it to me."

  Silnia smiled. "I have a perfect spot for it, Candale. Let me show you." She linked her arm with mine and led the way across the grass and back to the path, which we followed around towards the back of the garden and an empty flowerbed. "I was going to plant some rare Drasanian roses here," Silnia explained. "But I think this little seed will be so much nicer."

  "If it will even grow," I said.

  "I can see to that," Silver said. "If you want me to, of course." My mother looked at him questioningly and he bowed his head, his long fingers wringing together with nerves. "I can use a little magic to protect and nurture the seed. It won't force it to grow, just ... encourage it."

  Silnia looked thoughtful as she considered this then she nodded, causing a strand of dark curly hair to fall down and brush against her cheek. She pushed it back with a warm smile and dirty fingers. "Yes," she said. "Do that, please."

  "I can protect your garden, too," Silver added. "Against greenfly or any other pests. And it will keep your roses healthy and strong."

  "Oh," Silnia whispered, a delighted flush staining her cheeks. "Yes, please. I would really appreciate that, thank you."

  "I'll do that now," Silver said. "Let me know when the acorn is in the ground, please."

  When Silver had walked away, Silnia set down her cushion and knelt down to dig a hole in the ground with her fingers.

  "You love gardening," I said, as she patted the earth down on top of the seed lovingly.

  "Yes," she said, smiling up at me. "I finding it relaxing and there's nothing more satisfying that watching something grow and blossom and know that you gave it life. It's similar to when you bring parchment to life with your drawings, Candale."

  "Yes," I said. "I guess so."

  She started to get to her feet and I reached down to help her up. "Thank you," she said, wiping her hands on her handkerchief again. Then she glanced past me at where Silver was still working on shielding her garden. "Were you disappointed?" she asked me in a low voice. "That you're not the Shadow Seer?"

  "I ... I-" I swallowed back a tight nervous lump that formed in my throat, lowering my gaze to stare at the ground, at her soft slippers, covered with mud, and my dirty boots. What could I say to that? That I was relieved? How could I be relieved not to be the Seer when I was him? "I thought Sorron asked you not to mention this to me," I said.

  "He did," Silnia replied. "He said that you'd be embarrassed about being reminded of how you behaved over this, but I had to ask, Dale. I had to make sure that you're all right about this."

  "W-why wouldn't I be?"

  "Because I know how much you love those bardic songs and stories, how they capture your imagination. I thought, perhaps, you wanted to be this Seer because it would make you someone special, someone mysterious, like a hero in one of those songs, and that you'd be disappointed now that you know that you aren't one."

  "That never came into it, Mother," I said in a tight voice. "I never wanted to be the Seer. I-I only feared that I was because of the picture and the signs ..."

  "And that's why you disobeyed your father and ran off halfway across the kingdom?"

  I flinched from her gentle chastisement but nodded.

  She sighed, sadly, and patted my arm. She had dirt under her nails. "I do understand, Candale. Believe me, I do. It must have been very frightening for you. It was frightening for me, too, when your father finally explained it to me. And when we found out the truth, when Sorron told us that you weren't the Seer, Gerian was so relieved that he cried."

  "He did?" That sounded so amazing, so totally unbelievable. My strong father, crying!

  "Gerian loves you, Candale. He had kept this secret from me, from you, from everyone, for seventeen years, living in fear that Mayrila might have been right, that what she said might have been more than a malicious lie said to hurt. It was a relief for him to learn that you were not the Seer after all so, yes, he cried." She gave me a sad smile. "But are you relieved, Candale, or are you disappointed that you're not this Seer, that you won't have special powers and be this hero, that you are just my gangly son, with his head in the clouds, and nothing more?"

  "No," I whispered, my tight throat. "There's no one else that I want to be."

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  Chapter Twenty-Five

  BUTTERFLIES

  "I'm sure Teveriel knows other songs than those that are popular at the moment, Princess Aylara," Silver was saying. "Why would you want to just settle for what other bards usually play when Teveriel knows so many alternatives?"

  "Because I want the ball to be current and fashionable," my sister replied.

  "You make the fashion," Silver pointed out.

  Aylara laughed brightly. "That's true," she said.

  "Lord Gollean is pushing me," my father was saying. "All he talks about is this border dispute with Lady Catheen. She doesn't harass me about it at all, it's always Gollean, and he keeps finding different ways to bring it into a conversation. He won't stop, no matter how many times I have told him that I will look into it! He doesn't realise that there are other things more important than a two hundred year old border dispute."

  "It's only happening now because his father died, Gerian," Silnia said softly. "You know, as well as I do, that whenever the reigning lord
or lady of either Riverrun or Brefern dies, then there is a dispute over that same bit of land again. It's as though each new lord wants to prove he's better than the one before by getting it sorted out in their favour."

  "I know," my father sighed. "And no matter what we try to come up with, it never appeases either side. Gods, it's just a bit of land, some trees and a river. You wouldn't believe that people would fight for so long over so little."

  "Yes," Silnia replied, "you would, when you knew that it isn't about the land, it's about an age old dispute between the two families. They would argue over who owned a piece of rabbit waste that was on the border, if they thought for one second that the other side might want it."

  "Yes," Gerian laughed. "That's very true."

  The conversations went on, washing over me like a strong wave, pulling me down. My sister and Silver, discussing music and entertainment for her betrothal, my father and mother discussing politics, as always, and I sat silent, letting it go on. Not caring, not really listening, and certainly not eating the roast venison set before me.

  Meal times were usually enjoyable for me, more so since we'd returned from White Oaks almost three weeks ago now. Silver, as my bodyguard, sat close by, as did Trellany and Teveriel, now that he'd been made Court Bard. It was a reward for looking after me at White Oaks and something that had taken him by complete surprise. He'd been afraid of punishment, of being sent away, not reward. But my grandfather had realised that I would have run away anyway and without Tev or Trellany I probably wouldn't have made it to White Oaks in one piece, so he had rewarded them for their help. Teveriel was now the Court Bard and Trellany my official bodyguard, with a uniform to prove it. It was one of her own design - black, with a three-headed silver dragon embroidered over her right breast, and it would be ready in time for my sister's betrothal. I knew that it would suit her, black was Trellany's colour, but I wasn't sure how comfortable I would be seeing the three-headed dragon, the symbol of what I was, glinting at me all the time. It was something I would just have to get used to.