by Linda McNabb
“NO!” Davyn stood up and bellowed at Trianna. “You cannot banish him to that place!”
Trianna remained seated and her hands gripped the edge of the table as she stared at Davyn with empty, lifeless eyes. Her face had drained of all colour and her red hair shone even brighter against her white skin.
“What choice do I have?” Trianna asked in a tight voice. “As head of the council I am sworn to protect the royal family. Even if that royal family chooses not to defend itself.” She shot a look of dismay at the princess for having voted for Zaine to remain at the castle, which forced her to make such a difficult decision.
“I don’t think he’s as much of a threat as you say he is,” Maata replied defensively. “Nobody should have to go into that field if they can help it.”
“But … the life-reading … and if I have to choose between my son and the royal family …” Trianna did not finish, as it was obvious to everyone who she had chosen. She kept her face turned away from Zaine as she rose slowly. “He will be sent into the field at sunrise tomorrow.”
“No!” This time it was Maata who objected, and she glared at the head of the council with a defiance as strong as that she had shown against her tutor earlier.
“It must be done,” Trianna replied shortly and pushed her chair out so she could leave the table.
“Then it must wait until after the contest. He might interfere with the contest if he is in there when I go in for the crown. If you think he is such a threat to me, you must keep him away from the field until after I have retrieved the crown,” Maata insisted. Trianna paused as she considered the princess’s words.
“Very well. He will remain at the castle, under guard, until after the contest.” Trianna waited until each of the members of the council, except Davyn, had nodded in agreement before she turned and swept out of the room without a single glance towards her son.
Maata left with an apologetic look that said she had done all she could. As the princess walked down the corridor, half a dozen guards appeared at the door and stood waiting for Zaine.
“Return to your posts!” Davyn ordered the guards as the rest of the runeweavers left the room. “If anyone is going to guard my son, it will be me.”
The guards looked at each other for a few seconds, unsure whose orders they should be following, but they finally turned and went away, leaving just Davyn and Zaine in the council chamber.
“I’m sorry,” Davyn said as he walked over to where Zaine still sat on the bench, clutching his knees and rocking slowly back and forth. “I had no idea they might do this. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“I’ve wanted to meet my mother for so many years …” Zaine replied quietly. “I never dreamed that she would send me away again when I finally did meet her.”
The fact that she was sending him to a place where his fears and thoughts would fight against him was the very least of Zaine’s sadness at that moment. Davyn did not speak again and Zaine could see tears in his father’s eyes. Davyn held out his hand to Zaine and helped him to his feet, and then led him out of the room in silence.
Zaine did not put up his hood as he walked the corridors of the castle. What did he care for rules and customs now? What more could they do to him? Davyn also left his hood down and they both received stares from everyone they passed.
It wasn’t until they reached Davyn’s room that Zaine finally let the reality of it all sink in. They were sending him to the Circle of Dreams. He sat in a chair, not even caring about the dust he had sent floating around the room, and stared at the blank wall before him. His eyes remained unfocused and unseeing until Davyn’s hand gently shook his arm.
“Here, you’ll need these.” Davyn was holding two books out in front of him. Zaine frowned at them as books hadn’t done much for him so far. In fact, he regretted the day he had ever seen that book under the shelf in the little round cottage in the forest.
“I don’t want them,” Zaine replied sadly.
He made no attempt to reach out for the books, but Davyn placed them on his son’s lap, forcing Zaine to look at them closer. The first one was the very book he had just been thinking of. The green leather-bound book with the gold rune on the front stared up at him, tempting him to open it, daring him to try just one more time. Irritably, Zaine took hold of the book and shoved it underneath the second one so that he could not see it.
The second book was interesting enough to get Zaine’s attention even though his mind was full of other things. It was a very old, faded, blue book, but there was nothing written on the cover. It was twice as thick as the green runebook and, despite Zaine’s protests of not wanting it; he found he just had to open it to see what was inside.
The parchment pages inside had yellowed with age, but what was written on them held Zaine’s attention so much that he almost forgot to breathe for a few seconds. It was filled with pages of runes, starting off with simple combinations and a description of what they would achieve, then, as the pages continued, the runes got harder and more complex in their patterns. It was like looking at the book that Zaine had learnt to read from when he was young. Learning the letters had been the hardest part, but putting them together so that they made sense had been simple once he had understood the basic rules of how they worked together.
This book was the same thing, teaching him simple groupings and rules that made the later ones just as easy to understand. Several hours later Zaine looked up from the book, surprised to see that Davyn was still seated opposite him and was watching him with a keen interest. Zaine blinked several times to bring the room back into focus and saw that food was waiting on the table before him.
“You’ll need to know all the weaving that book can teach you if you are to survive in the field. You can keep the runebook as well.” Davyn pushed a plate of food towards Zaine. “It’s well past the evening meal time.”
Zaine looked up at the small window and saw only darkness. He put the books onto the table and stared at the blue one. The thing that surprised him the most was that he could remember every page as clearly as if it were laid out in front of him.
“Your dinner has gone cold,” Davyn said. Zaine brought his attention back to the table.
Without even thinking of what he was doing, Zaine spoke a string of runes and placed his finger on top of the food. Steam rose from the meal and Zaine removed his hand before it was burnt by the hot food.
“Thank you,” Zaine said simply, as he looked from the steaming food over to his father and then to the book which had taught him how to use his runes. He knew now that he would find a way to survive the field. He would find a way to fight his fears.
“You mustn’t let anyone know that you know how to use the runes.” Davyn’s serious expression told Zaine that his father should not have even let him see the old blue book. “Eat, before it goes cold again.”
Zaine picked up a spoon and began to eat. He knew the food would have remained hot if he had drawn the runes on the edge of the plate instead of just speaking them. It was one of the things the blue book had taught him. If he needed it to last longer, he would have to actually draw them on something; speaking them lasted only a short time.
A wave of tiredness swept over him as he finished eating, and he didn’t need much encouragement to lie on the small bed in the corner.
“Sleep in tomorrow if you can. I’ll leave some guards by the door to the garden. They will bring you to me when you want me,” Davyn said with a smile. It was a sad smile, one that said he would change things if he could.
Zaine simply nodded, his eyes shutting even as his head touched the soft pillow. The two books clasped in his arms, for he knew they could mean the difference as to whether he would survive.
His sleep was blissfully peaceful even though he had doubted he would ever be able to sleep again with his impending banishment. He woke up, with the sun was shining straight in the small window and glaring harshly in his eyes.
There were two guards outside the door to the
garden, just as Davyn had said there would be, and they straightened up when he stepped outside.
“Where am I allowed to go?” Zaine asked one of the guards.
“Anywhere you like, weaver, just so long as we follow,” the guard replied, without even turning to face him.
“Anywhere?” Zaine queried. “I wish to go somewhere to be alone and think, but not in this garden.”
“Anywhere inside the castle grounds.” The guard turned his head slightly to look at Zaine. “And that robe will bring a lot of attention once you’ve left the castle.”
“Good point,” Zaine said, as he looked down at the purple robe which he had put on automatically that morning. He took it off and stepped back inside to place it on a chair and then went back into the garden.
“Which way to get out of the castle?” Zaine asked, looking at the numerous paths to choose from.
“The left one, weaver,” the guard replied. Zaine started off down it, feeling more like the farm hand he had been his whole life now that he wasn’t wearing the robe. If anyone saw him they would not even think that he was a runeweaver, and that was just what he wanted.
Zaine reached the main entrance to the castle a few minutes later and was pleased to see that, although the guards were following him, they were staying far enough back so that the casual observer would not notice.
Once he was outside he walked down the pebbled path with no idea where he was going to go. The only place he could think of was down by the river where the novices had gone yesterday. It seemed like much more than a day had passed since then, and Zaine was deep in thought, walking at the edge of the pebbled road, when a carriage swept past him and almost knocked him to the ground.
“Keep outta the way boy!” A harsh yell came from the driver as the carriage raced up the pebbled driveway much faster than it should have been going. Pebbles flew up from the large wooden wheels and Zaine held up his hands to protect his face.
A second carriage followed and Zaine stepped back as it passed, looking to see who was in such a hurry to reach the castle. Even if he had been given a hundred guesses, Zaine would never have guessed who it was and his mouth dropped open when he saw Tercel staring back at him.
Tercel seemed just as surprised as Zaine, but his surprised look turned to a scowl within the few seconds it took for the carriage to speed past. Zaine turned his back on the fast-retreating carriages and headed for the river wondering how he could have forgotten that Calard and Tercel would be arriving with Prince Theodane.
Zaine worried what sort of trouble they would stir up until he remembered his approaching banishment. What trouble could be worse than that? Zaine reached the river, pleased that the novices were not here today, and sat down at the water’s edge. The guards had stayed up the hill a short way and were watching from the shade of a large tree, the same one Davyn had been standing by yesterday.
He heard the loud crunch of angry footsteps and knew that trouble was heading his way.
“What are you doing here?”
Zaine breathed a huge sigh before he turned to face Tercel. He didn’t get up though, and, after a brief glance at the angry young man, he turned back to the river without answering.
“I asked you a question!” Tercel bellowed, advancing several steps towards Zaine.
Zaine turned again, noticing that the guards were about to come down and see what was going on. He waved them away and got up to face Tercel.
“I don’t have to answer your questions,” Zaine replied, juggling a couple of stones he had picked up by the river.
“Master Calard bought you … and he wants you back!” Tercel took another step towards Zaine and lunged at him.
“Nobody owns me!” Zaine replied with a sneer as he stepped aside and stuck his foot out. Tercel tripped and fell into the river, shrieking like a girl.
“Master Calard won’t be happy!” Tercel yelled as he tried to stand in the fast-flowing river, but Zaine just shrugged. What did he care?
The guards had begun walking down the hill now, and Zaine walked back to the castle. It didn’t look like he was going to get any peace down here.
The official welcoming of Prince Theodane was in progress when Zaine got back to the castle, so he slipped around the back of the crowd and out into the garden. It should be quiet in here now that most people seemed to be in the huge main reception hall.
He sat looking at the waterfall for a good half an hour, with the guards hovering a little way down the path, before he was disturbed. Hearing voices coming down one of the paths, Zaine moved off into the bushes, intending to wait until they had gone past before coming out again.
Two people came into sight; Princess Maata and Prince Varan. They were walking along slowly and, to Zaine’s frustration, they stopped and sat on the bench where he had been.
“But Varan, what if I can’t …” Maata’s voice sounded worried and unsure, not at all like the confident princess Zaine had met yesterday.
“Of course you can. You’ve been training for this all your life,” Prince Varan replied comfortingly.
“But Theo has grown so much. He’s stronger, fitter and very determined. I’m not sure I can beat him on my own. I don’t want to go into the Circle of Dreams.” Maata looked about to burst into tears and the prince put his arm around her.
“Don’t worry about it … I’m sure you’ll be just fine. The best person will win.” Varan was looking straight at the bush where Zaine was hiding and Zaine froze, wondering if the prince could see him. But the prince’s eyes were not focused on the bush. He appeared to be deep in thought and, from the frown that creased his forehead; it wasn’t a thought that pleased him. “Come on, you’ve got to get ready for the official ceremony to accept Theo’s challenge.”
Varan helped Maata to her feet and they walked slowly off down the path again. Zaine waited until they were out of sight before he came out and sat on the bench again. He stayed there for another hour and then the guards came up to him.
“Excuse me, weaver,” one guard said politely.
“Yes.” Zaine looked up, grateful for something to break his thoughts which had been about the Circle of Dreams.
“There is a ceremony about to start in the Morning Room if you’d like to go and watch. Master Davyn is going to be there.”
Zaine nodded and got up. After he fetched his robe from Davyn’s room they led him to his father. The Morning Room was one of the larger meeting rooms in the castle. It was not nearly as large at the main foyer but still large enough to hold a small crowd.
The guards stayed by the door, allowing Zaine to walk in unaccompanied, but Zaine hesitated by the door as well. In the room were dozens of weavers, with hooded robes, and three normally dressed people. He spotted Maata first, her white dress standing out against all the dark robes. She must have arrived in the room just a minute or two before him, for she was working her way towards a small dais at the far end of the room.
He could not tell which one of the runeweavers his father was, as all the hoods were up and a lot of them were blue. In her bright-red robes, Trianna stood out almost as clearly as Maata did. There was only one other bright-red robe, but they didn’t have the white fur trimming.
“Order!”
Zaine knew instantly that it was Davyn’s voice, and he turned towards the sound. His father stood up on the small, raised dais so that everyone could see him. Davyn raised his hands for silence.
It was a few seconds before the crowd fell silent. Obviously not all of them saw him as someone who must be obeyed. Zaine looked at the other two people who were not wearing the robes of the runeweavers. One of them was Prince Varan; the other must be Prince Theodane.
“We must have the formal acknowledgement of the contender’s right to contest the crown.” Davyn indicated to the princess that she should come up, and she did so, seating herself in the padded chair that was quickly placed up there for her. A stool was also placed on the dais; a golden crown sat upon it. It wasn’t like any sort of
crown Zaine could have imagined, as it appeared to be many golden dragons entwined to form a circle. Dozens of runes were inscribed on the inside of the crown, but they were far too small for Zaine to work out from this distance.
Prince Theodane looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was tall and slim with short brown hair, pasty white skin and white clothes that marked him as royalty. He stepped forward and stopped in front of the princess.
“I, Prince Theodane of the north, son of the late Prince Relgan and nephew of the late king hereby declare my right for contesting the crown.”
The prince’s voice was conceited and self-assured, almost to the point of mocking the younger princess. He sounded as if he had already won the crown.
Princess Maata looked down at him, her face totally expressionless, before she nodded her head in the briefest of movements.
“I accept the challenge,” she declared evenly.
Prince Theodane moved off and all eyes turned back to the princess.
“The contest will begin in two—” Princess Maata began to speak again but Prince Varan walked up and stood in front of her, causing her to stop and look at him questioningly.
“I, Prince Varan, adopted son of the late Prince Tiras, declare my right to contest the crown,” Prince Varan said, clearly and slowly.
Zaine wasn’t the only one who was surprised, as all the gathered runeweavers gasped loudly. Princess Maata did not reply immediately. She stared at the young man, and Zaine could see, even from across the room, that the princess was shocked.
“He has no right!” Prince Theodane shouted. He scowled at Prince Varan and glared at the princess as if demanding that she refuse his claim.
“Prince Tiras died without any blood-related children of his own.” Davyn spoke out when the princess seemed lost for words. “As is the law, Prince Varan’s adoptive father’s title and lands passed down to him. So did the right to contest the crown.”
Princess Maata turned slightly to stare at Davyn, with only her eyes betraying her disappointment at Davyn’s words.
“I accept the challenge.” The princess’s voice was sad and quiet.