The Dragon Writers Collection

by DragonWritersCollective

  "Yes, baths will be most welcome. We found ourselves helping a couple of monks with some rather dirty business," Benjin replied, and the innkeeper seemed to warm to him a bit. She warmed even more when he paid her for the baths along with advance payment for a hot meal.

  "I am Miss Chambril. Welcome to the First Inn. I'll send Wonk to the bathhouse with water and towels in a moment. You can leave your bags here if you wish," she said as she walked into the kitchen. Catrin sifted through her pack in search of the soft clothes she had packed from the Trader's Wind, looking forward to being warm, dry, and in comfortable clothes. She sighed, realizing the time aboard the Wind had completely ruined her. In days gone by, she would have judged clothes by how tough or water resistant they were; now comfort was a definite consideration.

  Wanting to get clean and dry as quickly as possible, she and the others hurried to the baths. Wonk turned out to be a man in his middle years, and he seemed like a pleasant sort of fellow. He brought a stack of towels on his first trip and asked if any of them needed a robe. Catrin and the others declined the offer but appreciated it nonetheless, and they were grateful when he returned with a basin of lukewarm water. He said he would be back with more, but they descended on the washbasin with intent purpose.

  Catrin filled her cupped hands and splashed her face repeatedly. Each time, gray water seeped into the corners of her eyes, stinging and burning. When Wonk returned with another basin, Catrin stuck her entire face in the warmer water even before he had settled it on the stone bench. Using one of the towels, she dried her face and frowned when she saw how dirty the cloth came away. It seemed she might never get clean, but Wonk tirelessly brought fresh basins of water.

  Eventually, the cold drove Catrin and the others from the baths, and they sought that warm meal. Miss Chambril did not disappoint. Bowls of steaming stew emerged from the kitchen even as they seated themselves. Catrin noted that only the sleeping man remained in the common room; the rest had apparently gone to their beds. The stew smelled fantastic, and Catrin blew on a hot spoonful, waiting less than patiently for her first taste. It was worth the wait. She tasted salty beef and tomato with onion, garlic, and celery. Large pieces of carrot were a treat, and she ate the carrots from Osbourne's stew as well.

  Miss Chambril brought soft bread still warm from the oven, and they used no restraint when spreading it thick with apple butter. Catrin thought it might be the most delightful thing she had ever tasted, and she told Miss Chambril so. The innkeeper took the compliment in stride and brought them more bread and apple butter.

  "What is that aroma? It smells wonderful," Benjin asked, sniffing the air. "Is that a brisket?"

  "You've a discerning nose for such a dirty little man."

  "Could I beg a shaving or two? It'd be an honor to sample your work in progress," he said with sincerity.

  Miss Chambril visibly reappraised him. "I suppose that would be acceptable," she said. "Wonk will show the rest of you to your rooms when you've finished your meal," she continued, motioning Benjin to follow her into the kitchen. "I don't normally let strange men into my kitchen."

  "Not to fear. I try not to make a habit of being strange in the kitchens of beautiful women," Benjin replied.

  Catrin shook her head and asked Wonk to show her to her room. He led her to a small but private room. Despite being the first one in her bed, she was awake long after the others found slumber, and somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she thought she heard the sound of birds taking flight.

  * * *

  Sitting before the dwindling fire, as the shifting glow cast wandering shadows over the faces around him, Strom tried to drive the chill from his bones, but still he shivered. "I don't know if I'll ever be warm again," he said.

  "At least we made it here," Chase said, rubbing his hands together. "We could still be out in the Wastes. I'm just glad to have a full belly and a dry place to sleep tonight."

  "I know I should be grateful we're here," Osbourne said, his eyes downcast, "but this place gives me the crawls. I feel like an outsider. You saw how that guard looked at us. I'm not sure we're welcome here."

  Benjin had been quiet for some time, seemingly content to let the others express their concerns, and he had a distant look in his eyes, as if he were reliving the past. "It'll be all right," he said. "The Cathurans are a suspicious lot, and they tend to be aloof, but rarely are they cruel. Get some sleep, and things will look brighter by the light of day."

  "I hope so," Strom said, but as he looked around, the anxiety of his companions was palpable.

  "I'm going to bed," Chase said with a wide yawn. Despite his exhaustion, Strom knew he could not sleep--not yet. Too many fears dominated his thoughts, and he stayed in front of the fire until the coals no longer provided their welcoming warmth. With little to light his way, he stumbled to his room. As he crept along the dark upper hall, he wondered at the candlelight that washed from under one of the closed doors. A chill ran down his spine as he passed the room, and he tried desperately to convince himself that his fears were unwarranted.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A single act of kindness can change the world.

  --Byrber Dra, philanthropist

  * * *

  A jolly sort of noise brought Catrin drifting to wakefulness, but it was her nose that drew her from the comfortable bedding. She smelled bacon--bacon! The alluring aroma drew everyone from their rooms, and she soon found herself seated in the common room with her companions. A young girl served other customers, but Miss Chambril arrived at their table and served them herself.

  The innkeeper didn't ask what they wanted; she simply brought plates laden with some of everything, and Catrin could not fail to notice the large cut of brisket she served Benjin. Reveling in the tastes of bacon, sausage, and cheese, no one at their table spoke a word.

  One of the doors flew open and a tired-looking guard entered the common room. Catrin recognized him as the man who had searched them the night before. When he saw Benjin, he approached and went to one knee.

  "A thousand apologies, sir. Mother Gwendolin wishes to see you immediately. I sincerely apologize for my insolence. I was out of line." He stayed on one knee, his eyes downcast.

  Benjin laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Come now, let us begin again. I'm Benjin Hawk."

  The man seemed shocked that Benjin would not use his advantage, and he accepted Benjin's hand with thinly veiled uncertainty. "Burrel Longarm, captain of the guard, sir," he said, seeming more sure of himself after Benjin's firm handshake.

  "Please join us and sit a moment, Captain Longarm. I assume your orders are to escort us to Mother Gwendolin?" Benjin asked and Captain Longarm nodded. "I cannot offend Miss Chambril by leaving these platters full, and we sure could use your help cleaning them if you'd be willing." Benjin winked and motioned for him to take a seat. Captain Longarm was hesitant for a moment but then gave in to his hunger.

  Benjin cut a large slice from his brisket and slid it onto the plate Catrin handed to Captain Longarm. Catrin spooned a bit of everything else onto his dish. He thanked them with his mouth full. Miss Chambril appeared impressed when she saw the empty plates, but then she noticed Captain Longarm.

  "I suppose I'll need to bring a larger meal next time, I didn't realize you'd be feeding the guard as well," she said as she cleared the plates. Captain Longarm looked uncomfortable and seemed to be wondering if he had offended her, but Miss Chambril just laughed and brought him a basket of sweet rolls for the guards.

  "Thank you, Miss Chambril. I'll make sure the men on duty get every one of these," he said, and she laughed, throwing another roll at him. He caught it deftly and smiled as he took a bite. "Many thanks, Miss Chambril. Many thanks," he said as he led Benjin and the others out of the First Inn. Within a few steps, he cast a sidelong glance at Benjin, who walked without limp or staff. "Your leg feeling better today?"

  "Much," Benjin replied with a sly smile.

  "I should get these to the men before they get cold," Ca
ptain Longarm said, a question in his voice.

  "Yes, I agree. That gift would be wasted if delivered cold," Benjin replied.

  Captain Longarm happily jogged toward the gates along the path that had been cleared through the knee-deep snow. He returned shortly after and led them on a different path, one that meandered toward a second set of massive gates. The gates opened as they approached, and no one questioned or searched them. The men manning the gates nodded in deference as they passed, and Catrin smiled in return. After passing through two smaller sets of gates, they reached an enormous temple. Built into the side of a mountain, the massive structure was covered with elaborate images of trees and animals meticulously carved into the rock face. So cleverly carved were some of the creatures that they seemed to move.

  Craning her neck, Catrin tried to soak in the myriad of details while she walked. She nearly tripped a few times, but she got to see distant waterfalls, hanging gardens, and even small ponds filled with orange fish. If the monks Catrin saw noticed her and her party, they gave little indication. Some sat in quiet meditation; others read. Some had their heads and even their eyebrows completely shaved, and Catrin reflexively reached for her hair. It had grown long in the months since she had left her home. Even after it was singed, it grew back quickly, and she had come to like the feel of it on her neck; it made her feel womanly.

  Engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that the others had stopped, and she walked into Strom's back. He made no comment, but somehow he came to be standing on her toes. She pinched him, and he laughed as he stepped away. Before the entrance of the temple, Captain Longarm remained silent. One of the men standing guard simply nodded and disappeared into the temple. The other guard motioned them to follow him inside, and he led them to a small side chamber.

  The entryway floor was of polished stone, and the walls were lined with shoes and boots. No one needed to tell them they should take off their boots, and the guard simply nodded when they started unlacing. Conscious of her pale and pickled-looking feet and her crooked toes, which had all been broken at least once, mostly under Salty's hooves, Catrin suddenly wished she did not have to go barefoot. The guard pointed to some washbasins, indicating they should wash their feet before entering the temple, and they respectfully complied.

  As Catrin rinsed her feet, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A petite woman walked gracefully toward them, her robes gliding evenly across the floor, as if she moved without walking. Distracted, Catrin lost her balance as she removed her foot from the basin. She hopped on one foot for a moment, took a bad hop, and slipped on the wet floor. Her feet were above her head when she struck the stone floor, and the air rushed from her lungs. With an angry bump forming on the back of her head, she could not have been more embarrassed and was grateful when someone helped her rise from the floor. When her vision focused, she found it was the dainty woman who assisted her. "Greetings, child. I'm Mother Gwendolin. Are you hurt?"

  "Um, no, Mother. I'll be fine in a moment--just a bump on the head," Catrin replied. She did not resist as Mother Gwendolin guided her into another, smaller room with thick carpets and comfortable-looking cushions strewn about on the floor. Mother Gwendolin led her to a large cushion and helped ease her down to it. Catrin slumped onto the cushion and ran her fingers along the back of her skull. She felt no blood, but the lump was tender to the touch.

  "Greetings, Mother Gwendolin," Benjin said. "The years have been kind to you."

  "It's good to see you again, Benjin. It seems like only yesterday we searched for herbs and roots together," she replied, and Catrin looked up to see Benjin give her a brief hug. The others seated themselves, and Benjin began by making the introductions. He worked his way around the room until he came to Catrin, and she suddenly realized she had not given Mother Gwendolin her name.

  "This is Catrin Volker, daughter of Wendel and Elsa Volker," Benjin said quietly enough to remain discreet.

  "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself, Mother," Catrin blurted involuntarily.

  Mother Gwendolin just smiled. "You need not fret. I'm not easily offended, and you did suffer quite a fall. My position often seems to impose courtesies that my ego does not require and that I would much sooner forgo. There are those who feel I must maintain my aloofness as a requisite, but I find it tiresome. It creates a barrier between me and just about everyone else. Ah, but I did not come here to tell you my troubles. Please, tell me the tale of your journey," she said, but she noticed Benjin make an exaggerated glance toward the open doorway. "Perhaps this is a tale best told in a more accommodating location. If you'll follow me, I'll find us a more comfortable place to talk," she said, and Benjin nodded in agreement.

  She led them through the large hall and down a wide, rounded flight of stairs that opened into another equally large hall. Fewer people were gathered in this part of the temple, and many of the doors that lined the hall were closed. Catrin saw people in rooms where doors were open or ajar, but they made very little noise; most appeared to be in various states of meditation.

  Another flight of stairs took them into a smaller hall with fewer doors on either side. Mother Gwendolin selected a room that had empty rooms on either side, and when they were all inside, she closed the heavy door behind them.

  "I apologize, Mother, but our tale must be kept in confidence. I fear anyone who learns of it will be in danger. I'm hesitant to place such a burden on you, and I'm prepared to tell you pleasant lies if you decide that is best. I would ask your preference," Benjin said.

  Mother Gwendolin smiled, nodding in acknowledgment of his warning. "First, I must ask you to address me as Gwendolin while we're in a private setting. It will lighten my heart to enjoy your company as equals. Second, I wish to hear your tale, no matter how dangerous the information may be. I sense this is no minor matter, and I'll do what I can to assist you."

  Everyone in the room seemed to relax once those things were understood, and Catrin let Benjin's voice pull her along as he told their tale. He left out no details, shocking everyone with the extent of his disclosure. He spoke of Catrin as the one who had been declared the Herald of Istra, and Mother Gwendolin gave her more than a few glances during the telling of her deeds. Catrin immersed herself in Benjin's telling, and she let herself experience the tale from his perspective.

  He wove the story with skill, and his details painted vivid impressions in her mind. She liked the texture of his rendition and stored his memories alongside hers. Mother Gwendolin made not a single sound. She listened intently until Benjin reached the last part of his tale. When he described their journey with Milo and Gustad, she dropped her face into her hands and sighed; then she laughed. Benjin fell silent and Mother Gwendolin looked at each of them anew.

  "You've endured many trials along your journey, and you've more challenges ahead. Benjin's words tell me you have acted wisely and bravely, and I honor your courageous deeds. He also alluded to Catrin's desire to learn from us. I would ask what it is you seek."

  "I . . . uh . . . I came here hoping to learn about my magic," Catrin answered, caught off her guard.

  "Pah! Magic? What do you need with magic? Do you wish to perform tricks at country fairs?" Mother Gwendolin asked, incredulous, and Catrin gaped. "What you possess is not magic, child. You have power. Not the perception of power like that which politicians wield, but real, tangible power. It would seem you were right to seek us out, for you have much to learn, but we will remedy that, shall we not?"

  "Thank you," Catrin responded. "I don't want to be a burden, but any help and information you can offer will be greatly appreciated."

  "You couldn't just come to visit, could you, Benjin?" Mother Gwendolin asked with a wink.

  "I suppose not."

  "I think Catrin and I should spend some time together," Mother Gwendolin said. "Perhaps she could rejoin you this evening at the First Inn?"

  "Certainly. We can find our way out," Benjin said.

  "You should pay a visit to Milo and Gustad. I'm sure t
hey'd be glad to show you their experiments," she replied with a wave, and Benjin closed the door behind himself.

  Nervous and self-conscious when left alone with Mother Gwendolin, Catrin quailed. The woman's grace and eloquence made her feel crude and ignorant, and she was somewhat cowed by Mother Gwendolin's reaction to the word magic.

  "Well now, where shall we begin, hmm?" Mother Gwendolin said. "Perhaps you could describe your experiences with power. That would help me understand what you know."

  Catrin sighed, took a deep breath, and prepared to verbalize the indescribable. She began by detailing the events surrounding the attack on Osbourne and how she had thought she would die. Then she tried unsuccessfully to relate the feeling of the world flying away from her.

  "Hmm, yes, that explains a great deal," Mother Gwendolin said. "It is my belief that the human brain is capable of much more than most people realize. There are doorways in our minds, like portals to ancient knowledge, most of which are closed. Some doors can be opened gradually over generations. I believe those opened by a parent before the time of a child's conception are made easier for the child to open, and I have hypothesized that these doors can be blown apart by traumatic experiences. It is my unproven theory that the unconscious mind can sometimes override the conscious mind for the sake of self-preservation, but I digress.

  "It would seem a major doorway fell before the threat on your life, and you instinctively triggered a chain reaction, unleashing a blast of energy. It is my belief that one cannot create energy. One can store energy, harness it, release it, but not create it. Again, I digress, please continue," she said.

  Catrin went on with a bit of excitement. She hadn't known what to expect, but at least Mother Gwendolin had some answers for her, even if they were vague and unproven. She managed to tell the tale of the destruction of the greatoaks without crying, but Mother Gwendolin's astonished reaction made it difficult.