by Linda McNabb
“I’ll see you later in the day, then,” Princess Maata said as she turned to walk off.
He watched as her wet, long white dress dragged along the pebbled path until she was out of sight before he headed quickly back towards Davyn’s door. He smiled, despite the news that his mother was due soon; as meeting the princess had made him feel good.
The way back seemed longer, and he was sure he circled the same tree several times before he found the row of doors. He had never got lost in a forest, so a small garden should have posed no great problem, but somehow it had. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his small design of pebbles lay undisturbed and that there was no sign of Davyn yet. He placed his ear against the wooden door, but there was only silence on the other side.
He scattered the pebbles with his foot as he wondered what to do now. He leaned one hand on the door as he bent down to pick a white pebble from the dirt. A soft ‘click’ made him shoot upright and he stared at the door which was now open by a fraction, enough to put his fingers around and pull it wider.
“And where have you been?” Davyn’s voice froze Zaine’s steps as he was halfway through the door. “Do you ever do what you’re told?”
“I …” Zaine felt his cheeks begin to tinge with embarrassment. He didn’t mean to keep disobeying his friend, but somehow he just kept doing it. “I got locked out and I was thirsty …”
“I guess I should have known you’d be able to unlock the door,” Davyn muttered, almost to himself and he shook his head a little sadly. He took a towel out of a drawer and threw it to him. “Your mother will be here soon.”
Zaine didn’t know how to tell the herbmaster – no, runeweaver – that he already knew that, so he tried to look surprised as he rubbed his clothes as dry as he could.
“Can I see her?” Zaine asked quietly. He had a feeling that he would not get to meet her straight away, but he wanted to know what she looked like.
Davyn sat quietly without answering for a long time, staring at Zaine and rubbing his short-cropped beard. It was strange to see that his hair and beard were still white even though he now looked so much younger.
“I suppose you could if you stayed in the back of the hall. There will be a lot of people at court this afternoon and she won’t notice you,” Davyn finally said. Zaine felt his spirits lift. “You’ll have to hurry up and eat though, or we’ll miss her arriving.”
Zaine noticed then that the table had plates of food stacked on it and he sat down and began to eat. He had been very hungry only a few moments before, but, now he was about to meet his mother, his appetite had gone. He ate as much as he could force himself to and then pushed his plate away.
“Right, let’s go.” Davyn got up and walked to a wall that opened to his touch and revealed a recess full of brightly coloured clothes. He selected a cloak of deep blue, decorated with silver stars and moons and threw it around his shoulders. It changed his appearance completely and Zaine was surprised to see that his friend looked like he would fit into the royalty of a castle easily. Davyn reached into the recess again and pulled out another cloak, this one a deep purple with the same designs on it. He looked at it and then at Zaine critically, as if deciding if it would fit, then threw it across the small room. “Here you’ll need this.”
Zaine caught it and looked closer at the soft, light cloak. The stars and moons seemed to glow as he touched them, and he put the cloak around his neck, settling the hood down his back. He wished he had a mirror to see what he looked like, he certainly felt different with such an expensive and exquisite cloak covering his old, shabby clothes.
“It’s a bit long, but it will have to do,” Davyn commented as he led the way to the door. He paused before it, looked briefly at Zaine, as if he were going to ask him something, but then changed his mind and laid his palm on the imprint on this side of the door.
After only two turns and a short corridor they reached a part of the castle that was much more expensively decorated. Tapestries of red and gold hung from the walls and red carpets ran along the floors. Large windows looked out on the garden where Zaine had recently been, but the fountain was nowhere in sight. Zaine realised the gardens must be very large indeed. He hitched up the cloak to stop it dragging along the ground and almost ran into Davyn as the runeweaver stopped by a large arched doorway.
“Put your hood up,” Davyn ordered, as he pulled his own deep-blue hood over his head. “It is expected to be worn up in public around the castle.”
Zaine didn’t object as it made it easier for him to stay unnoticed, and he pulled up his own dark purple hood before hurrying after Davyn. They had reached the populated areas of the castle and he stayed several steps behind the runeweaver, mimicking his sweeping step that made it seem like he was floating along the floor instead of walking. They passed by well-dressed people, who stepped back to allow them to pass, and from the way these people made a half-bow Zaine could tell that the runeweavers were well-respected.
They arrived at a large hall with a ceiling so high that Zaine couldn’t see it without tipping his head up and risking letting his hood slip off. It was large enough that Zaine was sure most of the crops he used to tend would fit inside it, and there were about two hundred people milling around. He saw there were many well-dressed ladies and he stared at each one, wondering if any of them were his mother. He knew his hair wasn’t dark, so most of these ladies could not be her. There was one with fair hair and she was hovering near a large double door. The door stood closed and the woman kept looking through the glass that was laid into the center of the white wood.
“She’s here!” the woman exclaimed and the news rippled through the room.
“Wait over at the back over there,” Davyn said, and he gave Zaine a gentle shove in the right direction. “I have to go and greet her. Don’t – for any reason – come forward and show yourself. I don’t want her to know you are here.”
Zaine just nodded. Would his mother be as upset as all that? Surely not. Zaine moved to the back of the room as he had been instructed and watched as several other robed figures appeared from doorways and lined up by the double doors with Davyn. Their cloaks were of deep colours like his and Davyn’s, but with slightly different designs on them. It was impossible to tell if any of them were women, but Zaine knew now that his mother was the one arriving.
The double doors were opened by a couple of young lads, and everyone in the room bowed low. Zaine bowed as well, only so that he would not stand out in the crowd, but he kept his eyes firmly on the open doors.
A tall figure in a deep-red cloak swept in the door, bowing to each of the runeweavers in turn. Zaine could not see her face as it was hidden beneath a hood which was trimmed with a soft white fur that none of the others possessed. When she reached Davyn, she stopped. She stared at him for such a long time that the gentry who stood watching began to mutter amongst themselves.
She leaned forward and even Zaine could clearly hear her as she snapped her words out demandingly.
“What are you doing back? Is he dead already?”
Dead! His mother only wanted to know if he was dead!
Davyn’s reply was too soft to hear, but from the lady’s reaction it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.
“Is he here? He is … I can feel it. You brought him here! How could you?” she demanded and, without waiting for an answer from Davyn, she turned to the crowd and flung back her hood.
Everyone took a step backwards, almost crushing Zaine against the wall, and allowing him only a small gap through which to see his mother. It was big enough, though, to see what he needed to know. Bright red hair flowed down her back and brilliant green eyes flicked over the crowd as she looked for her son. But Zaine couldn’t be her son, for, even though he hadn’t seen a reflection of himself in a long time, he knew without a doubt that he did not look like the woman before them.
CHAPTER NINE - WRITTEN IN THE STARS
Zaine stared at the woman from under the shadow of his hood. Her lon
g, thin face held no trace of sympathy or desire to see her child. Instead it threw out an angry, fearful stare that made him shrink away and hide behind a tall man as her gaze swept past. Why would she be afraid to see him? He peered out and watched as her gaze swept the crowd again and then turned back to the waiting line of runeweavers.
“I demand a meeting of the Council of Seven!” she almost shrieked. “We must have a ruling before nightfall.”
“Mistress Trianna.” One man stepped forward from the line of runeweavers, and Zaine recognised his voice as the man Davyn had spoken to the night they arrived. “There are only six life-masters at the castle at present. The princess has sent several off on an errand.”
Trianna paused and glared at the hooded man, as if it were his fault there were not enough runeweavers to form a council. Her right hand drummed rhythmically against the red velvet cloak, the golden patterns glowing at her touch.
“Then the princess shall make the seventh. It is allowed for the head of the royal family to stand in if required.” Trianna waited until the man had bobbed his head obediently, and then she snapped her head back around to the crowd, perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of the hiding child that she obviously knew was there. With a look that was more scared than angry, she turned and stormed through the hall, disappearing beyond the same archway Zaine had come through only minutes before.
The crowd immediately began to buzz with whispered conversation, and Zaine decided that now would be a good time to leave. Before anyone figured out it was he whom Trianna had been looking for. He slipped along the back of the crowd and out a door which led to the gardens. He needed time alone, to think about what he knew so far. Surely that woman had been his mother, but what of this resemblance that was supposed to be so startling? As far as he could tell, he looked nothing like Trianna.
When Zaine heard the gentle tinkle of water, he knew how to tell if he looked like his mother. He headed down the white pebbled path towards the sound of the water, not caring if he came across anyone. After several wrong turns he reached the fountain and hurried to the small stone wall that formed a pool around the edge. Pushing back his hood and peering over the edge he looked into the water, trying to see his reflection, but the splashing of the water from the statue made the surface rippled and uneven. The most he could see was the colour of his hair, and that was definitely not red.
With a deep sigh, Zaine sank down to sit on the low wall and dangle his feet in the water, causing more ripples that wiped out his reflection completely. He had waited so long to meet his mother, and now it seemed she despised him and was scared of him.
“I thought you might be here,” Davyn said from behind him. Zaine did not even move or turn to face his friend. “I did warn you she would not be pleased to see you.”
“Why? What did I ever do wrong?” Zaine muttered as Davyn stepped over the wall and took a seat next to the young lad.
“You were born on the wrong day,” Davyn said, with a sigh as big as Zaine’s had been just a few seconds before.
“She can’t be my mother,” Zaine replied defensively, not really understanding what Davyn had meant. “She looks nothing like me.”
“No, she doesn’t look like you. But she is your mother,” Davyn countered. He swirled his feet in the water, churning it up and making it lap up against the statue.
“But you said that I resembled her so strongly that anyone would see it …” Zaine started to protest, but trailed off as he realised he had just given away the fact that he had been listening the night they arrived.
“I wondered if you were asleep or not.” Davyn’s voice contained a hint of reproach. “Eavesdroppers rarely get the full story.”
With a flick of Davyn’s hand, the water stopped pouring from the statue and the surface of the small pond slowly became calm. Zaine looked questioningly at his friend and saw him smile sadly.
“Take a look for yourself,” Davyn said as he pointed to the now-still water.
Zaine looked down and saw himself for the first time in years. He looked much the same as he had always done, still pale-skinned, still fair-haired, but older and taller. No, he didn’t look anything like his mother. Then he looked at the reflection of Davyn sitting next to him and he sucked in his breath in surprise. Apart from the beard and a few lines on his face, Davyn looked exactly like him.
“But …” Zaine looked from the reflection and then back up to his friend, confusion in his eyes.
“I’m your father,” Davyn told him quietly.
Zaine knew his mouth had dropped open but he couldn’t help staring in disbelief. He looked back down at the reflection and knew that it had to be true but felt he did not understand anything anymore.
“But if you’re my …” he found the word hard to say. Davyn was just Davyn, he couldn’t think of him as anything else, “… then why did I live at the farm?”
It was just one of dozens of questions which sprang to mind, and he wanted answers to them all.
“It was to keep you away from the rune magic.” Davyn was looking down at his hands, but he looked up and met Zaine’s demanding and confused stare. The haunted look in the runeweaver’s eyes told Zaine far more than words could ever manage. “I wanted to be near you so I made sure we became friends. It hurt me to see you worked so hard at the farm, but I knew that life was far better for you than anything I could offer.”
“Surely life here wouldn’t have been so bad?” Zaine said with a wave of his hand at the surrounding gardens. “Why couldn’t I grow up here? Does my mother despise me that much?”
“No. She loves you,” Davyn replied quietly.
“Really? She has a strange way of showing it!” Zaine blurted out with a snarl of disbelief. How could she ask if he were dead yet, if she truly loved him as a son?
“She’s afraid.” Davyn dropped his eyes back to the water.
“Of me?” Zaine frowned and looked at his own reflection as well. The young boy stared back at him, unthreatening and sad. “What harm could I do her, or anyone else for that matter?”
Davyn didn’t answer for what seemed like a long time. Then he stood up, causing the water to ripple and wipe out the image of their resemblance. The water started flowing from the statue again and he stepped out of the pool.
“Come with me and I’ll show you what they are all so scared of.”
Davyn waited patiently while Zaine stared at him, not moving. Zaine desperately wanted to know what it was that was so bad about his very existence, but he was more than a little scared of what it might be. He finally managed to force himself to stand up and follow Davyn – he couldn’t think of the runeweaver as his father, yet – down the pebbled paths.
They arrived outside Davyn’s small lodgings within just a few minutes, much more quickly than it had taken by the corridors. Davyn pointed to the door and pulled Zaine closer.
“Open it for me,” Davyn asked quietly.
Zaine frowned as he stepped forward and placed his hand on the door. It clicked open at his touch, and he realised what Davyn was showing him. The door would open only for Davyn’s magic, which Zaine had inherited.
“Wait here for a minute,” Davyn told Zaine as he disappeared into the gloom of the poorly lit room. He came out a few seconds later and shut the door. He was carrying a silver book. They walked along the path until they came to a small stone bench.
Davyn sat down and patted the bench next to him to indicate that Zaine should sit down. Zaine sat, keeping his eyes on the book the whole time.
“Here. This is your book.” Davyn extended his hand and held the slim silver book out in front of Zaine.
There were words, embossed in gold, on the cover and Zaine read them silently.
Zaine, son of Davyn and Trianna
“My book?” Zaine asked, as he slowly reached out and took the book.
“It’s a life-reading. Trianna was the king’s personal runeweaver. This was his gift to her when you were born,” Davyn explained. “There was an old woman who
lived in a town nearby, and it was said she could see into the future of a child by looking at the stars. She would ‘read’ a child’s future and write it in a book for the parents. Very few are done, as it is very expensive.”
Zaine didn’t know how to respond to that. He just stared at the cover, automatically tracing the words with his finger.
“You don’t need to do that, it’s just an ordinary book,” Davyn told him as he squirmed uncomfortably on the stone bench next to Zaine.
Zaine pulled open the cover and stared at the first page. It was a line drawing, and it looked exactly like him as he was now. He looked at it for a few minutes before curiosity drove him to turn to the next page. Here he would find out what it was that was bad enough to have him sent away; bad enough for his own mother to fear him.
The next page was handwritten in a thin scrawl, which wandered across the page, leaning left then right. Letters, which should have been straight, were wavy and often so misshapen that Zaine wondered at first if it were even in a language that he knew. Then Zaine saw his own name and managed to decipher the messy words.
“She was very old when she wrote this,” Davyn explained, but he made no effort to lean over and read the book with Zaine.
Zaine looked up briefly at Davyn, his friend, his father … then turned back to the book. The first few sentences were of little interest. What colour hair he would have, the size of his shoes at the age of two, but then there was a big blotch. It was as if the person writing had paused to think and let the ink drip onto the page. The next words made him pause and look up at Davyn in surprise.
And this boy will not age past his twelfth year.
“Your mother thought that meant you would die before you reached the age of thirteen,” Davyn said, obviously guessing where Zaine was up to. “We never guessed that you would achieve eternal life through the rune book at such a young age.”