”I’m not sure what use the Wand-Maker gift would be with ink, but I would be willing to attempt it on the merit of an experiment.”
“Excellent.” Eublin stepped between two crowded shelves and located a small book in a stack on a large desk. “Here it is. The first few pages were fairly clear, but I believe the information I seek is further in and far from legible.” He flipped to a page that had been smeared badly from moisture and time. Gus climbed up onto the only clear space on the desk as Eublin placed the book before him. He activated his ability and gazed down at the page with a skeptical expression.
“Well, color me surprised. It seems the blood has retained some of the properties of its strands. I can certainly see the words more clearly with my gift than I can with my eyes.” Gus scanned through some of the text, and a scowl soon creased his features. He glared up at Eublin and crossed his arms at his chest. “You nuisance gnome. Are you still wasting your time with that drivel about the Well of Strands?”
“It is far from drivel, you stubborn fur ball. Just because you find the idea difficult to grasp does not mean it does not exist. Humor me and read the translation, won’t you?”
Gus looked up at Eublin with disgust. It was obvious that Gus’s reputation for brilliance had failed to reach Eublin in his hermit-like existence with the Maiden of the Unicorn. Still, with some amount of injured pride, he let the last insult pass without a retort.
“Fine. I just felt like offering a caution that this may prove to be a waste of your time, as well as mine.”
“I appreciate your concern, but if there is any possibility that the forces behind this war believe this theory to be true, it is worth researching. It is possible that you are right about the idiocy of the idea, and yet it still may be the key to stopping this war before it truly begins. All that matters right now is that we learn more about the subject than those who are willing to destroy an entire realm to find it.”
“I see your point. Ready your pen and I will tell you what I see.” Gus read off mundane journal entries and mildly interesting recollections of fairly regular events in the life of an irua scholar. It wasn’t until he neared the end of the journal that Eublin began to get excited about the content of the book. He shifted eagerly from one foot to the other as he scribbled as rapidly as Gus read the words.
Upon researching some of the early architectural philosophies utilized during the initial tunneling and expansion of our city, I have discovered why there seems to be no logical layout for the main corridors. I found some of the original plans used by the Stone-Sights and diggers. It appears to indicate that they were not focused on the patterns in the stone itself. The map shows areas of interest that were specifically intersected by the tunnels, rather than showing a layout of what the tunnel system would look like when complete. I feel it is safe to assume that the additional smaller tunnels were added for ease of access rather than being planned out originally. Fascinatingly, there were maps of similar yet smaller areas of interest in other parts of the world. I am quite unfamiliar with most of the realms of Archana outside of our own home, particularly the populated regions of the Human and Elven Realms. I will continue to seek more information on the nature of these maps. The following is a list of the areas I have already identified from the maps, but there are many more with too little indication of the locations…
Gus read off the list of locations and looked up at Eublin with a blank stare.
“The rest of the journal is too weathered to read. I conclude that this has indeed been an utter waste of time.”
“Do you know what this means, Gus?” Eublin was nearly dancing with excitement.
“Of course I don’t know what this means. I imagine you are going to tell me though, aren’t you?”
“No. You obviously have no interest whatsoever in this subject. Therefore, I shall take my excitement and my insight to someone who can appreciate the importance of this discovery.” Eublin hurried out of the room and left Gus standing with his mouth open, feeling a mixture of relief that he no longer had to converse with the gnome and a sense of intense disappointment that Eublin wouldn’t share his realization with him. The book dust must be going to his head.
6 – Appropriately Upbraided
Her journey was near its end when Serha rounded the corner and entered the market square in Stanton. It had been a long and weary journey from Barlington on foot, but it was necessary. She surveyed the street, knowing that the shop must be nearby, but age had not been as kind to her eyesight at it had been to her knowledge. Yet, she could still make out the faintest wisps of a beaded curtain entrance only a few too many shops away. She looked down at her feet with determination and took a deep breath, exhaling ever so slowly.
“Come on, ladies. Just carry me a bit further and I will do my best to set you up on a nice cushion.”
Serha’s wrinkled hand grasped firmly onto her staff. She drew a swollen tongue over her sun-bleached lips and leaned forward to earn momentum. Each step seemed to drag her deeper into a weariness beyond any she had ever experienced, and yet she trudged on. She knew that water and some small portion of comfort would be found when she met her destination. Spite urged her on as she grew ever closer to the stall. Old age would not stop her from fulfilling her part in the events she had envisioned since she was a child. It was all the more important to make this one last stop before she witnessed destiny—before she observed the events of her first vision as a See’er unfold. She needed to set this one thing straight before she could fulfill her most important prophecy.
It wasn’t long before a final few steps would yield her destination, but it felt like a realm away. Her aching feet and fatigued muscles would carry her no further. A young lady parted the beaded curtain just as Serha’s steps faltered and she began to fall forward.
“Serha!” The woman’s voice was hushed, and fear showed in her eyes as she battled her shock while helping the older woman through the door. Serha smiled wanly, as much for the girl’s awkward anxiety at her sudden appearance as for the burden of her own weight being lightened.
“Chanda, could I trouble you for a glass of water, my dear?” She was half carried through a room dotted with cheap trinkets. There was a small table with two chairs in the center, and several shelves lined the walls. In Serha’s exhausted state, she took no notice of the titles of books or the condition of the items that sat haphazardly on the rough wooden planks. They passed through a door into the woman’s sleeping quarters, and with Chanda’s assistance the old woman sank gratefully onto a worn mattress. As Chanda left the room to collect the requested cup of water, Serha grimaced at the state of the small space. Discarded clothes littered the floor, and a few See-er artifacts sat on a cluttered, rickety table next to the bed. A rusty tin box containing a rare sightstone caught her eye, along with a pair of chicken feet, two vials of what looked like partially congealed blood, an intricately engraved copper bracelet tethered to an emerald inset ring, and a small clay pot filled with a musky-smelling liquid. Serha grudgingly relaxed on the surprisingly soft mattress, attempting to ignore her surroundings. Chanda moved in and out of the room anxiously, delivering several cups of water in rapid succession and additional pillows to make the unannounced guest more comfortable.
The water was cool and refreshing, but the sudden replenishment of fluids to Serha’s frail, dehydrated body caused mingling sensations of agony and relief. She leaned back into the pillows, willing her stomach to desist its convulsions as the water filled her vacant body with life-sustaining liquid. Serha’s entire mouth hurt as moisture seeped into the dry, cracked skin of her parched lips and tongue. In spite of the pain, she savored the cold taste as her body finally relaxed and began to feel rejuvenated.
“Thank you for the gracious welcome, my dear.” Serha measured the young woman’s character with her gaze, as Chanda stood self-consciously before her scrutiny.
“It is the least I can do for you.” Chanda wrung her hands before her, as if she wanted to ask a questi
on but was hesitant to voice it.
“It has been a very long journey for me, Chanda. I would like to rest, and then we will speak more.” Serha emphasized the word will, leaving no doubt that she was there on official business. Chanda nodded silently and left the room with a crooked curtsy.
Serha shook her head as she glanced around again at the messy room. She struggled to reconcile the idea that Chanda could appear so young and foolish yet have so much potential for devastation. The old woman considered how she should breach the necessary conversation with Chanda as she fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
* * *
The savory smell of soup brought Serha back to the waking world. Carrots, celery, and onions seasoned the pot and stirred her desire to eat. Chanda was nowhere to be found when Serha sat up and found that a bowl of soup had been set on the table in place of the previous clutter. A pad of butter on freshly baked bread was close at hand on a plate. A vacant chair, as well as used utensils and an empty bowl, greeted her from the other side of the table.
Serha wondered how long she had slept, as Chanda had obviously had time to tidy up the place and cook a wonderfully smelling meal. By the light streaming in through the windows, Serha concluded it was morning, and the cheerful sound of birds confirmed her thought as she swung her stiff legs over the edge of the bed and began to eat the meal.
Serha set her empty bowl on the table, relishing the renewed strength and energy the food had given her. She was stretching her sore limbs when Chanda burst through the front entrance, causing beads to dance on their strings. The young woman drew in short, heavy breaths as she looked around her home, carrying a load of fruits and vegetables in her arms.
Serha walked into the front room on trembling but relatively stable legs.
“I had to get some more supplies if you will be staying a while. Sorry I wasn’t back yet when you woke.”
“Do not fret about me, dear. I am far more concerned about you.”
“What do you mean?” Chanda let the basket of produce slip from her arms onto the small table and looked nervously across the room at Archana’s most feared and respected See’er. Serha had lived a long life, although Chanda hesitated to believe the stories she had heard about just how old the woman was. Yet, if there was any truth at all in the legends, she had been around long enough to provide prophecies to turgents and ryhains who had been dead for several generations.
“You have disgraced yourself and your gift. Do you have any idea how much trouble you may have caused with your careless behavior?”
“I don’t understand. What have I done?” Chanda pleaded.
Serha crossed the room slowly but deliberately, glaring menacingly at the innocent look on Chanda’s face. The young woman shrank back from the power radiating from the older See-er. She trembled slightly as Serha’s body seemed to grow larger and more intimidating with every breath.
“What have you done?” Serha’s words hissed through clenched teeth. “What have you done? Your arrogance and idiocy has destroyed lives, broken hearts, placed innocents in immense danger, and possibly altered the paths of prophecy in ways that we cannot even begin to predict. Are you so dense as to believe that your ignorance is innocent and harmless?” Tears were streaming down Chanda’s cheeks as her mouth gaped open at the women’s outburst.
“I’ve done nothing to cause such destruction. I only strive to help others with my gift. How can you accuse me of such terrible things?”
“Archana, help us! It’s worse than I had feared.” Serha’s face blanched and she eased back slightly from the young, teary-eyed woman. “You honestly believe that you have done nothing wrong. I expected to find you filled with arrogance and deception, not genuine ignorance.”
Chanda sat heavily upon a chair and began sobbing into her hands.
“Stop your blubbering, child. Your salty tears will do nothing to abolish the damage you have done.” Serha’s voice reverberated with authority.
“What exactly are you accusing me of doing?” Her words were choked out between gasps as Chanda attempted to rein in her crying.
“You have betrayed your craft. Prophecy is to be delivered, never interpreted. There is no telling the extent of trouble you have caused for your patrons.”
“I’ve been giving advice to the wayward and curious for years. No one has ever complained that I have led them astray before. Why do you say I am using my gift so poorly?” Serha’s anger flared back to life with a vengeance as she glared down at Chanda. Her voice resonated with such force it caused the beads in the doorway to tremble on their strings.
“You have never given a true prophecy before now!” Chanda cowered backward, attempting to distance herself from the terror of a woman before her. “Your simple horoscopes and predictions were just lucky analyses of the signs around you and the most likely outcome of any given situation. Child’s play. A mere trick that seems impressive with your gift behind it. You have no idea what true prophecy is!” Serha slammed her wrinkled hand against the wall near Chanda’s head to drive her point home. The effect was just as devastating on the girl’s composure as she had hoped. Chanda was reduced to a whimpering puddle, empty of argument or retort. “For the duration of my stay, you will listen very closely to what I have to tell you. There may still be a way to prevent your tampering with prophecy from causing catastrophic destruction in the lives of those you have affected.”
Chanda nodded her acquiescence but was wise enough not to speak.
* * *
“That hurts!” Chanda whined at the pain of being led by her ear through the streets. Onlookers turned in surprise as she was tugged past them in shame. Her humiliation was only part of the torment that nagged at her mind.
“Consider this your penance for muddying the destiny of those you serve.” Serha’s aged fingers clenched Chanda’s ear far tighter than she thought they could, and the rigid grip nearly tore her flesh when she allowed herself to lag a half-step behind.
Thankfully, Chanda’s hunched posture only allowed a view of the feet of the onlookers. Their curious stares still bored into her, and the periodic gasps and whispers added to her embarrassment. As she stared down at the cobbled streets, only her knowledge of her hometown let her know where she was.
“But you could just lead me by the hand if you want to treat me like a child.”
“Yes, I suppose I could.”
Chanda cringed when Serha laughed, leading her around another corner. She didn’t know where they were going. The aroma of cabbage, manure, pickled eggs, and fresh fruit met her nose. They must have just passed through the market district, and the sight of sawdust along the last right turn told her they were headed west, away from the palace.
“Well, then. Why don’t you?”
“I have two very good reasons.”
Chanda could hear wagons passing by her, making deliveries. The drivers were eerily silent as they passed, but she could feel their eyes watching the spectacle of the two women.
“Would you mind sharing the reasons?”
Resisting was no use; she had learned that early in the excursion. Whenever she attempted to find a more comfortable position to help her endure the trip, she was met with even greater pain, as Serha twisted her ear until she returned to her cowed posture. It was hard to breath. As waves of dizziness washed over her, she dreaded that she would pass out and awake with one less ear.
“First, I am looking for something, and you will only serve as a distraction.”
“And second?”
“Second, this is more”—Chanda could almost hear the old See-er smile—“fun.”
Chanda ground her teeth in frustration as they passed the next stretch of road. Luckily, Serha followed a near straight path as she attempted to whistle with dry, wrinkled lips.
“Now, where is that bubble?” Serha muttered.
“If you let me up, I can help you find it. What does it look like?”
Serha twisted her ear again, sniggering as she scanned the landscape.
>
“That’s a silly question, dear. You can’t describe the appearance of something that can’t be seen. It has to be around here somewhere.”
“There has to be something I can do to help. What good does it do you to have me looking at the ground?”
“You wouldn’t know what you’re looking for, since you didn’t see the vision given to me. And to be honest with you, many years have gone by since I witnessed that particular vision. I am having trouble remembering all the little details of what I saw.” Serha then muttered under her breath, “I thought it would be impossible to ever forget that vision.”
“How much farther? I think I’ve paid for my wrongdoing several times over.”
“Unless you know exactly how much damage you have done, how could you possibly know the debt you owe? Stop whining. We are just about there,” Serha said playfully before letting go of Chanda’s ear.
Chanda stood erect, grimacing at the ache in her back, but she reveled in the sensation of being vertical again. She felt slightly dizzy and leaned on a tree while the world spun slowly around her. As her senses returned, she looked up to see the empty Vigile barracks in an open field of long grass. In stark contrast to the bustle of activity that had thrived there the previous year, the buildings now had a haunting feeling to them.
“This place has been abandoned since before we won the battle for our home. I had nothing to do with that. Or is there really some truth to all the rumors?”
“Shut up and sit down before you ruin this. I have to have the setting just right. I need to recreate the scene exactly as I saw it in the vision. Now lean back on that rock and look up at the sky.”
Chanda was a bit perturbed at the ridiculous way Serha was behaving, but she did as she was told. “Is this good?” She looked up to see a broad smile on Serha’s face, but she wouldn’t meet her eyes. The old woman’s gaze was fixed in the direction of the barracks. Chanda lay back on the rock and rolled her eyes.
The Well of Strands (Osric's Wand, Book Three) Page 7