by Lee M Eason
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Drassique waved his hand expressively. “Especially in such vaunted company. I’ve never seen so many Heads and Adepts. Almost every Order must be here, with a few notable exceptions,” he added as an aside.
Gwen nodded looking around. “Well, even the best of us can’t ignore an excuse for a good nose around.”
Drassique took on an imperious look, his tongue firmly in his cheek “I of course am here to foster inter-Order relations and professional development in the spirit of kinship and mutual trust,” he gave a slight bow.
“Impressive,” Carrick encouraged. “What does that mean?”
“I have no idea,” Drassique admitted roguishly. “But I’ve heard it said a lot when Order Heads don’t want to admit to the real reason why they’re here.”
“And what’s that?” Carrick wondered if he was thinking the same.
Drassique gave him a wary look and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial rumble. “Come, come now even a Hallorn must admit to concerns about national character traits reasserting themselves.”
Gwen nodded. “You mean Amarian national character traits. That is a bit of a generalisation.”
“Then you haven’t considered it. That my dear, dare I say it, is very Hallorn.”
“I didn’t say we hadn’t considered it,” she said with a faint smile. “And what do you mean very Hallorn?”
Drassique laughed. “This is how things began with Saracarn III. Let’s all be friends but with Amar in charge, oh and don’t mind us while we help ourselves to your land.” He pinched the air and popped it in his pocket. “Amarians have always considered themselves superior.”
Carrick was inclined to agree, accepting it was a wild generalisation, but was also prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt, “Essedra has shown herself to be different.”
“Same bloodline,” Drassique shot back.
“But with scars to remind them of past mistakes.”
“Scars dealt her by Hallorns, who have always seen themselves as the guardians of the law, the arbiters of right and wrong, be it Panid, Talent or royalty.”
Carrick snorted, “You really have us all pinned down, don’t you.”
“Of course,” Drassique swept a hand across both sides of his moustache.
“And the people of Akar?” Gwen inquired.
“Clear sighted, truthful and…”
“Prone to stereotyping,” she finished for him.
Drassique chortled. “How insightful, for a Hallorn,” he added with a wicked smile.
Gwen gave him a wry smile and then turned to follow his line of sight as his expression changed.
Drassique glanced back to see if they were all looking at the same thing. “Could there be a more obvious proclamation of what we’ve just discussed.” He was referring to Mia Sara who had just come into view. “She is the personification of Amarian superiority, devious, highly intelligent and cold. Quite the most exquisite creature. I wouldn’t trust her as far as...” he paused. “Isn’t that Kara just off to her left.”
“Oh no,” Gwen groaned.
“Are we far enough away to be safe,” Drassique feigned terror.
Carrick smiled. “Perhaps under the table would be better.”
Kara had finished a conversation with Miriet the Order Head from Rons and turned to find a drink, instead coming face to face with Mia Sara. The tall dark haired woman seemed equally surprised and pained by the situation. Bollocks, thought Kara how could she have missed her? The bloody woman stood out like a drunkard’s nose. She was notorious for wearing striking red silk of a style worn in the north. The south of Amar had always regarded the north as its poor, less sophisticated relation and admitted few Talents from that area. Mia Sara had been a rare exception and took every opportunity to remind the Order of its ignorance. Kara suspected it was a constant struggle for the woman facing such prejudice and held a begrudging respect for her on that point only. But that small allowance aside she couldn’t stand her. The two stretched smiles across their faces and locked them in place.
“Kara.”
“Mia.”
“That’s Mia Sara. You are well?”
“Err, yes. And you Mia?”
“Tolerable.” Mia Sara’s smile did not reach her eyes. “I see Gwen and Carrick are as popular as ever. Though everyone must be disappointed that the fabled Kellim is not here instead,” there was a sour note to her voice. “And I see you made… an effort.”
“Well you lot all seem so hung up on petty gestures I thought I’d play along. And you. I see you’re still wearing red.”
“Crimson,” Mia Sara corrected.
“Right, like a bruise.”
“And I see you are wearing shoes. Did you have help with the laces?”
“They’re sandals,” Kara snapped.
“You know the difference,” Mia Sara noted as if speaking to a small child.
“Tell me,” Kara began, determined to even the score. “Is that the same dress or do you have a wardrobe full of them? What shall I wear today,” she affected a vacuous voice, “oh yes, the red one. At your age it must make your day so much easier.”
Mia Sara’s expression hardened. The temperature in that part of the room plummeted. She turned stiffly to take in the rest of the room. “This must be very interesting for all of you,” her tone now openly condescending, if a little tight.
“In-interesting?” Kara stifled a snigger.
“Why to see Amar of course. Quite a wonder compared to where you’ve come from.”
“Oh, of course,” Kara pinched herself. “You must be very proud, such a lot of…domes. I suppose if you keep practicing you might eventually get one right.”
The smiles stretched a little tighter. Kara was sure she could hear smothered laughter coming from somewhere nearby.
The doors to the hall closed, a small hand bell was rung and everyone made their way to be seated. The quieter hum of expectation filled the airy room, servants poured water and attended to the needs of the guests but then quickly left as the Chancellor rose from his chair, dressed in his finest long silk jacket and narrow fitted trousers he must have been baking. He waited until all eyes turned to him. Steadily he looked around the gathering and then began. “Colleagues, might I take a moment to savour the historic implications of this gathering. None of us here can be immune to its significance…”
His voice echoed throughout the room. Kara made to scratch her nose looking side on at Gwen and muttered, “Blah, blah, blah. Posture, posture, posture.”
“So I would ask, that we assembled here today make a vow to meet again on this date, each year, to strengthen the bonds that unite us and herald in a new era of cooperation.” The Chancellor was satisfied as the hall filled with applause.
“Some of us have been doing that already,” Kara mumbled through a smile as she clapped politely.
“My thoughts too,” Carrick kept his voice low. “At least he’s speaking Koan. I half expected him to make us all use Amarian.”
“And now…” the Chancellor began, his expression darkening.
“Here it comes,” Gwen whispered. “Will he address the rumours or keep us all shut out. We need to see a change if we’re to trust them.”
“…in the spirit of openness I must bring to your attention recent events in Amar. Several months ago our Order was attacked.” There was an audible gasp of surprise in the hall and the Chancellor waited for it to settle. “Naicarn, one of our Clave Heads attempted to take control of The Corumn.” Again the room was filled with voiced concerns and questions.
“How is this possible?” a member of the Jedesyut Order demanded, his accent a marked contrast to The Chancellor’s. “How is it possible that one man could hold and control such high ranking Adepts? No one has access to that kind of power since The Field’s Cap was put in place.”
“Colleagues.” The Chancellor raised his voice in irritation at the interruption. “If you will allow me to continue.” Slowly the hall beca
me calm again. “In self-imposed isolation Naicarn has found a way to access the field to a greater degree than any other on the continent. It was his intention to ‘persuade’ The Corumn to follow his own aims and plans. However, he was unaware of the recent changes in its membership and was unable to bring his plans to fruition. Through the use of a number of small devices he was able to paralyse us, providing himself with enough time to draw on the field unhindered and affect an escape.” Yet again a wave of questions and conversations interrupted The Chancellor.
Gwen and Carrick exchanged quick glances. “That’s promising,” she conceded.
In Order to answer some of the many questions being directed at him The Chancellor continued to speak, forcing them to fall silent again. “As I said earlier, Naicarn has managed to develop his own abilities by pushing against the limits imposed on us by The Field’s Cap. He originally came to entreat us to commit the Order to this same course of action, wanting to return Amar to its preeminent position of influence in the south of the continent. This idea was of course flatly refused.”
“We’ll have to take your word for that,” Drassique voiced the concerns of many. “And this Naicarn, what is The Amar Order doing to bring him to heel.”
“That is in hand,” The Chancellor spoke bluntly. “You can rest assured however that Naicarn will be made to answer for his crimes.”
“So he is still at large?” Drassique pressed.
“The matter is in hand,” The Chancellor repeated irritably. “I raised the issue becau…”
“Then we have nothing more to worry about,” The Head of the Lagash Order said dismissively, her accent lending a clipped tone to Koan. “It’s time we moved onto other business. Isn’t the current unrest in Ildra the real reason why we are all here? Surely this is a more pressing issue then this delusional Adept of yours.”
“If I might add,” Mia Sara spoke not waiting for The Chancellor to respond. “Make no mistake that Naicarn is a power to be reckoned with. There are none here now who could best him. He was able to overpower The Corumn and has since developed his powers further. It would be foolish to dismiss him or indeed to separate Naicarn’s name and that of the Ildran ruler in this meeting.”
The Lagash Head only had time to consider Mia Sara’s warning briefly before a representative of The Pidone Order spoke. “What are you suggesting Mia Sara? Is Naicarn somehow connected to Segat’s sudden interest in extending his borders?”
Mia Sara looked to The Chancellor expectantly. It was clear he was not happy with her but inclined his head stiffly, giving her permission to continue.
“I believe The Chancellor was about to get to that very point,” she began tersely. “Sources lead us to believe that Naicarn may have been using his heightened abilities to influence Segat. The UruIldran ruler’s blood-line has nurtured a long standing resentment towards our own royal family. Directing Segat to make threats would have improved Naicarn’s position with The Corumn and in his mind force us to go along with his plan to develop our Talents’ abilities and take a more proactive, a more eminent role in controlling the future of the south.”
“We have all noticed that the Ildran Order along with Selarsh and Urukish have failed to send representatives to this meeting,” The Pidone Head stated. “But surely we are over stating one man’s influence on the stability of the south.”
Carrick spoke, “Naicarn’s plans seem far-reaching and complex and could still be very much in operation. We cannot ignore that possibility. Naicarn must be taken out of the equation if the diplomats are to work on Segat unhampered. You are all aware that The Hallorn has sent a delegation to Ildra.”
“And that is why,” the Chancellor began, bringing the attention back to himself, “earlier this morning we have sent a contingent of our most powerful Adepts to find Naicarn and put an end to any further influence over Segat. The Empress herself wishes that we fully support and lend all assistance to the Hallorn initiative.”
The discussion continued for several hours even before the day’s agenda could be started on. In the middle of a particularly heated debate the doors to the hall swung open and a member of The Empress’s staff entered. He hurriedly found The Chancellor and handed him a note. Gattick opened it and with a look of irritation at the messenger, read it. His expression quickly changed.
“This is confirmed?” he asked the messenger urgently.
Those seated nearby noted the tone of his voice and stopped speaking immediately.
The Chancellor pushed his chair back and stood, he looked shaken. The general hum of conversation died as everyone present turned expectantly towards him. He looked at the message again, a grave expression on his face and passed it to Mia Sara.
“I…” he seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words, looking at the concerned faces about him. “I have terrible news,” he said at last. “I have just heard from Her Imperial Majesty that Ildra has invaded Urukish and Selarsh.” The room erupted in disbelief and outrage. Several delegates were on their feet. Some were already heading for the doors. He had to raise his voice to continue. “And that forces are advancing on Hon.”
Chapter 10
Bryn and Jac skidded to a halt as a bristle of arrows met their sudden approach. Kellim stood motionless watching irritably as the man he’d been questioning scrambled up the steep sides of the pass, but then a smile touched the edges of his lips as he spotted a familiar figure. Bryn and Jac watched with disbelieving eyes as The Faithful hurried down from the ridge, shouting excitedly in its strange voice.
“No, no lower them, lower them! This is good. This is a good meeting! They are not the other one.” Reluctantly the bowmen lowered their weapons as The Faithful continued its insistence and hurried to greet Kellim.
On reaching The Panid it stopped and composing itself, bowed. Kellim quickly followed with the appropriate response.
“These men are with you?” Kellim was a little surprised.
“This is so. The Faithful has joined them and now protects The Beholder once again. The Faithful is sorry you were attacked. You were mistaken for another,” it tapped the tips of its talons together, a nervous smile on its face. The smile was intended as a friendly gesturing. Jac found the array of teeth on show deeply unnerving.
“Do you have news for me,” Kellim asked, The Children’s interest in Jenna his chief concern.
Again The Faithful tapped its talon tips together and seemed to be considering its thoughts.
Jac watched somewhat bemused by this strange habit. It appeared it had a lot to think through. Perhaps it was considering where to start. He looked at Bryn who was equally fascinated.
“This doesn’t look good,” Bryn commented under his breath. “Maybe things are more serious than we thought.”
Kellim waited patiently knowing better than to interrupt its thought processes. The Faithful had many quirks, the same as any intelligent being. Finally, the creature stopped its cogitations.
“No,” it replied.
Jac rolled his eyes. “You’re joking.”
Bryn shrugged.
Kellim knew the creature would filter out anything irrelevant to the question, no matter how dangerous or fascinating, but hadn’t expected the filtering to be so complete. He did notice the scorched patches on the creature’s fur and several recently healed scares. “You’ve been hurt. Who or what did this to you?”
“Now is not the time for this. You will follow?”
“Apparently so,” Kellim was left with no other options. “Then yes, you should lead on my friend.” The Faithful bowed welcoming Kellim’s use of friend and turned to head up the path.
Kellim checked the stance and disposition of the men arrayed around the rocky sides of the ravine before moving. Some were starting to make their way along the rough path, others still watched cautiously. He made his way carefully over to Bryn and Jac, who were still staring at The Faithful.
“That was worth the journey,” Kellim commented dryly.
“Are they all like
that?” Bryn asked as he too began to wonder if the effort of getting here had been a complete waste of time.
“No. Thankfully. However, there will be others, so might I suggest you both close your mouths and try not to stare. Be aware that they can be sensitive and mutual respect is of paramount importance to them. Oh, and they don’t like to stand around once a decision has been made.” Kellim, gestured after The Faithful, turned and began to follow.
“What about our pa…” Jac turned to see their belongings had already been collected.
Bryn started walking with a quick glance up at the sky, the weather was pulling in.
They climbed to the top of the ridge by which time it had begun to snow, this made the already slippery path a harder prospect. Now they had to watch their footing and try to keep up with The Faithful. Through the slowly building blizzard Kellim could just make out the Plain of Coth a distant expanse beyond the mountains. He pulled on his heavy hood, glad of the protection the old but favourite coat provided.
The Faithful led them some distance along the ridge and then down into a small valley easily overlooked by any travellers willing to brave this remote and desolate part of the world. They descended steps carved out of the grey rock, making their way past terraces now planted with over-winter crops. Below them an icy stream splashed and tumbled its way noisily along the bottom of the valley. The path headed for a small cave just visible through the blizzard.
The Faithful marched for it as the weak winter sun faded. “Not far. You will be warm soon,” It assured, its fur coated with snow.
Jac thought of his childhood. He, like many others, had been brought up on tales of The Panids’ Children. None of them ever had a happy ending and most involved naughty children being carried off and popped into a cooking pot, at the lip smacking delight of their captors. The hour-long walk had also given him time to think about his outburst. He’d let go of something and Bryn’s words had forced him out of a destructive cycle. Now all he had to do was apologise, stop feeling stupid and possibly avoid being eaten.