Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series

by E. M. Sinclair

  Now Alya innocently agreed that the warm spell of weather had been a false promise and it did indeed look as though the cold would return.

  ‘Enough,’ said Thryssa. ‘Did you hear anything from our guests Kwanzi?’

  ‘Nothing worth repeating. They spoke only of their journeys here and nothing else.’

  ‘I expect little of interest from Kallema of Fira. Her people work with water and no rivers run the full distance between the northern mountains and us. I’m sure Orsim knows much more – if I miss my guess, he travels the winds as much as Maressa.’

  Alya nodded agreement. She had noticed more colour in Orsim of Kedara’s face as Thryssa spoke of forbidden things. ‘What about Lashek? I know little of the earth powers that the Segrans study.’

  ‘I do not know Alya, we must just wait and hope that they all understand the importance of their co-operation and the urgency to it all.’

  Kwanzi poured more tea for both Alya and Thryssa. ‘And what of us here in Parima,’ he asked.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Thryssa sounded disgusted. ‘We have busied ourselves with recording events, harmonising the Circles, looking inward rather than out. Stars alone know if any of our Parimans look beyond Vagrantia.’ She sighed. ‘Have you come up with anything Alya?’

  ‘I have had Elyssa and other assistants making careful enquiries all through the town. Some have gone out to the further settlements and farms. They have picked up a few hints that some things occur. I think you will have to issue a public notice that no one will find themselves in trouble if they come forward and admit to knowing any of the supposedly long-lost arts.’

  ‘And what of Elyssa herself?’ Thryssa asked. ‘I have often thought that she leaps from question to answer too rapidly for it to be entirely natural.’

  Alya put her empty mug on to the tray. ‘I’ve wondered myself. I truly do not think she is aware of what she does. I suspect there may be many like her, who may have been told as small children that what they discovered they could do was somehow wrong, not to be spoken of. Nearly all our people have some ability to use mind speech, but I have long considered some of the better artists and craft workers may use the power unconsciously in their work.’

  ‘And such a possibility has never entered my mind,’ Thryssa admitted. ‘What manner of High Speaker am I that I have neglected so many such little things which together could mean a great deal in this present time?’ She shook her head as Kwanzi began to protest. ‘Anything else Alya?’

  ‘Well, I wondered if you could perhaps send out all the Assessors. If you assigned a pair to all the schools, they could check the children first, then their families and work outwards from there.’

  Thryssa nodded slowly. ‘That is good thinking Alya. Set that plan in motion at once.’ There was a gentle knock on the main door to the council chamber and Kwanzi hastily gathered the tea mugs and his tray. He vanished through the door to the private rooms as Alya welcomed the Speakers and councillors in at the other.

  Lashek of Segra spoke as soon as he was seated.

  ‘We all admit to knowing more than we are supposed to, Thryssa.’ He smiled, spreading his hands palm upwards. ‘In Segra many of the so-called forbidden things are now done openly – among ourselves you understand. We have been cautious before the rest of you.’

  His humour disappeared. ‘Some of us have had presentiments of danger recently. As far as we can ascertain, the danger has its locus in Talvo Circle. With Gremara.’

  The Speaker for Kedara, Jilla’s father Orsim, nodded agreement.

  ‘My people have, as you guessed Thryssa, retained much lore of farseeing and far travelling. We will share what we have learnt with all here. We also think Gremara is one source of approaching peril, but we fear there is another source, maybe several more.’

  Orsim glanced to his left, at the remaining Speaker, Kallema.

  She tilted her head and the long blonde hair that had shimmering hints of green in its colour, rippled around her shoulders. ‘We of Fira are aware of Gremara. Water and Fire are natural foes. Never have we trusted the Silver Ones who dwell in Talvo. I do not think I can tell you anything useful of our water lore, but we will do all we can to help to contain that creature’s power.’

  Kallema’s voice was as soothing as water over pebbles and there was a moment’s silence when she had stopped speaking.

  Thryssa asked: ‘Air and Fire are not opposed Orsim. Is there any way you could safely get closer to Gremara?’

  Orsim frowned. ‘It may be possible. I think it unwise to bring ourselves to her notice yet though. And there is also the fact that she has discovered a Dragon Lord. We have searched our records and found no evidence at all of any Dragon Lords.’

  Lashek agreed. ‘We have little dealings with Fire although we have made certain studies in that area. I would strongly advise against alerting Gremara of our renewed interest in her. We have found references to a Dragon Lord but they are in extremely ancient texts – from the time long before we were forced from our original lands. There are a few ambiguous statements, some completely contradicting each other. There are a very few pictograms or drawings which we can make no sense of whatsoever.’

  ‘Drawings?’ Maressa asked quickly. ‘Such as?’

  Speaker Lashek waved at his Councillor Imshish who hurriedly sketched an outline on a scrap of parchment. He slid the parchment across to Maressa.

  ‘I’ve seen this,’ she exclaimed. ‘The one in the north – the new one, not the Grey Master but the one Gremara names Dragon Lord. He wore such a symbol on a chain around his neck.’

  Heads bent over the drawing and murmurs arose.

  ‘But you do not know what it is or what is might symbolise?’ Lashek asked.

  ‘No.’ Maressa shook her head slowly. ‘But when Gremara screamed the first time she found him, this – thing – glowed on its chain as though it responded to her in some way.’

  ‘You cannot be sure of that,’ Thryssa objected. ‘It may have been a device to help him shield himself. We know the silver one caused great harm to unprotected minds, perhaps he has some artefact which would protect him as soon as it is aware of power being used against him?’

  ‘We study the use of such objects,’ said Lashek. ‘I do not recall anything resembling this – it looks much like an egg don’t you think? But I would like you to take a copy of this drawing back to your archives in Fira and Kedara and see if you have any similar diagrams in your oldest records. You also Thryssa.’

  ‘Of course,’ Thryssa agreed. She sighed. ‘I confess I feel as though we have been plunged into fog while trying to cross quicksand. I have this sensation of great urgency about all this for which I can give no reason.’

  Orsim touched her arm as he rose from his chair. ‘I think we all realise the need for haste in coming up with some answers quickly Thryssa. And we will hurry back to our Circles at once. We will send birds with copies of any written evidence we may find difficult to interpret but suspect may have a bearing on this matter. And I suggest we link our minds at sunset each day to exchange our news.’

  Kallema also stood with her Councillor, Prilla, and both bowed to the others.

  ‘We will do all we can in Fira and will join the mind link each sunset.’ Kallema murmured.

  The two water mages flowed to the door rather than walked, their hair seeming to shift and blur their shapes.

  Orsim and Maressa made their farewells and followed the Firans out of the council chamber.

  ‘I will leave Imshish here Thryssa. He was researching in the Cordiva before this problem arose. Is that acceptable to you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Thryssa smiled warmly at both men. ‘Imshish is always very welcome here.’

  ‘I will leave at once then.’ Lashek hitched his robe more tidily around his portly frame. ‘I suspect things will become even more interesting before we solve this puzzle.’ He beamed at Thryssa and Alya and stumped from the room.

  ‘More interesting?’ Alya echoed.

 
; ‘Stars forfend!’ groaned Thryssa.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hargon, Navan, and Frinkel – included for his skills with both bow and writing stick - and an escort of thirty armsmen maintained a fast pace north. By the middle of the third day, they sighted the lodge that was their destination, perched on its sheltered plateau in front of the mountain face. As they paused at the crest of a ridge, an arms man rode towards them from a stand of tall evergreens. He saluted Hargon and Hargon nodded in satisfaction. The men set to protect his children were taking their duties seriously. Not that he had expected any less of them of course.

  By the time the company arrived, the sun was sinking behind the mountain protecting the rear of the lodge and there was a distinct chill in the air. Smoke trailed like thin scars across the reddening sky and Hargon was as glad as he knew his men to be at the thought of a good hot meal and a proper bed to sleep in, rather than another night on the open trail this early in the season.

  His sons were excited by his arrival. The female child stood a distance apart as she watched the hearty greetings her brothers exchanged with Lord Hargon. Hargon moved towards the main room of the lodge where food was already being set out, his hands on his sons’ shoulders. As he sat at the long table and waved his sons to sit beside him, his eyes met those of the small child. She dropped her gaze immediately and pressed closer to the elderly females who had charge of her. But Hargon believed he had seen gladness in Mena’s expression. He decided he must risk speaking with her soon, as if she was a real person like his sons and not just a female. Not right now though.

  When finally Bannor and Bartos had been sent to their beds and the room was cleared and tidied, Hargon dragged his carved wooden armchair closer to the hearth. Tomorrow he would speak seriously to Bannor and tell him of the Merig’s news. He frowned at the dying fire. Would Bannor be able to grasp this news or would he think his father gone mad? And the female - what of her? Navan had warned him of Rhaki’s interest in Mena and the Merig had repeated that warning.

  But of what importance could a young female have in the scheme of things, he pondered. Generations had passed since females had any say in the way the world worked. They were for the breeding of sons now. History taught that it was females who had brought destruction and chaos to Sapphrea: what good could possibly come from allowing them to rise even a finger’s width from their present insignificance? Fretting over such unaccustomed ideas, Hargon slept the night in his hard wooden chair.

  The ashes were barely warm when the Lord of Return jolted awake and groaned as he flexed the stiffness from his arms and back. He turned to the window where a faint greyness suggested dawn was near. A female servant came into the room, halting with a gasp as she saw the Lord standing there. He noted the pail of kindling in one hand and larger sticks bundled in her apron.

  ‘Carry on,’ he muttered. ‘No. Ask someone to fetch me some tea first.’

  Pail and sticks clattered to the floor as the female turned and fled to the kitchen. Moments later a manservant appeared with a lidded jug of spice tea and a drinking bowl on a tray, which he offered to the Lord. Hargon dismissed him and poured some tea for himself. Sipping the scalding tea, he opened the outer door and moved onto the wide balcony that ran round three sides of the lodge.

  He leaned against one of the supporting pillars and watched as the sky changed from a murky grey to pearl pink. A movement caught his eye and he looked along the length of the balcony. He stiffened as he saw that a Merig was perched at the corner. And sitting next to the Merig, her back towards Hargon, was his female child, Mena. The Merig clattered its beak and flapped heavily across the open space fronting the lodge. It landed, muttering throatily, on a branch of an evergreen.

  Hargon moved hesitantly towards his daughter. Her face was still a pale blur in the early light as she looked up at him, but he saw apprehension in the widening eyes. She kept quite still, as if hoping he might not really have noticed her. Hargon lowered himself to sit on the balcony’s edge near, but not too near, her. She ducked her head, keeping her eyes on her hands.

  The Lord cleared his throat and glanced across at the Merig. The hunched black shape in the tree glared back at him. Hargon offered his tea bowl to the girl. She looked up quickly in surprise and shook her blonde head, murmuring: ‘No thank you Sir Lord.’

  ‘Was that Merig talking in your head?’ Hargon asked abruptly.

  Mena’s hands clutched each other in her lap as she nodded.

  ‘It spoke to me in Return a few days past,’ he said casually.

  ‘He.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘He, Sir Lord. The Merig is a he.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hargon was nonplussed by the seemingly irrelevant remark but gathered his wits firmly as the Merig’s rasping croak sounded again from the evergreen.

  ‘Well. HE told me several strange things. What could he have told you I wonder,’ Hargon asked in an unusually kind tone.

  ‘He says Dragons will come here soon, bringing riders from Gaharn Sir Lord. He says all the riders are to be trusted as true friends but one rider is of great importance.’ Mena hesitated, her frown telling Hargon that she was trying to remember the Merig’s words exactly. ‘One rider is of great importance – in the destruction of the Grey Lord. Also that many things will change in these lands Sir Lord.’

  She glanced briefly up at Hargon’s face then her gaze returned to her clasped hands.

  Hargon was fully aware that the Merig had clearly chosen to tell this female child of his more or less what he himself had been told. Was the Merig simple minded that he should tell his messages to anyone who would listen, Hargon wondered. There could surely be no purpose in a Merig speaking to a child and a female one at that, in the same manner as to a Lord of Sapphrea. Could there?

  Sounds now indicated that the household was awake and Hargon stood up. His finger lifted Mena’s chin, forcing her face up to meet his eyes.

  ‘We will talk more of this later when I have time to spare.’

  He turned to walk beside the balcony to the main door, reaching the shallow steps as Bartos emerged.

  ‘Good morning.’ Lord Hargon smiled at his younger son.

  Bartos gave a cursory bow. ‘Good morning Sir Lord. Will we go hunting this day?’

  Bannor had followed Bartos out and nudged him with a sharp elbow as he bowed more formally and greeted his father.

  ‘I think not this day,’ Hargon replied. ‘I have matters to attend to.’

  Bartos stuck out his lower lip discontentedly as Hargon passed both boys to go inside. He re-emerged a few moments later to tell Bannor to stay nearby, as he would call for him shortly. Bannor bowed again then stood straight, making himself as tall as he could. Hargon turned away, hiding a smile, but the smile disappeared as he saw Bartos at the corner of the balcony, kicking something beneath its wooden boards.

  ‘Bartos,’ he called sharply. ‘What do you do there?’

  Bartos jumped, but looked up at Hargon with innocent eyes. Hargon went down the steps and strode to his youngest child’s side, realising as he did that the Merig was croaking furiously from its perch in the evergreen.

  ‘Move aside,’ he ordered Bartos curtly.

  The boy moved slowly away from the balcony’s overhang. Hargon stared down into the shadowed darkness, seeing nothing. Then he bent lower and met wide eyes staring back at him from under the boards. Hargon straightened.

  ‘Take yourself to your tutor at once boy. You will study with him until I send for you.’

  ‘But. .’ Bartos’ eyes filled with tears.

  ‘You question my command?’ Hargon’s eyebrows rose in astonishment.

  ‘Nno Sir Lord.’

  Hargon watched as Bartos trailed back to the lodge. He stared up at the rapidly lightening sky and seemed to speak to empty air as he asked: ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No Sir Lord, not much.’ Mena’s shaky whisper just reached Hargon’s ears.

  ‘Come to my workroom after your noonday mea
l.’ He moved away as Navan came round the side of the building.

  Navan saluted as he reached Hargon, a question in his eyes as he studied his Lord’s face.

  ‘Let us walk Navan. I would see where these Dragons might land and how best we could hide bowmen.’

  Navan and Hargon spent more than half of the morning surveying the open expanse before the lodge. Evergreens curved like protective arms from each side of the lodge and a few broad-leaved trees grew beyond them. Hargon belatedly remembered to summon Bannor and had a difficult conversation with his elder son. Bannor clearly had grave doubts as to Merigs bringing messages, and peer as he might, Hargon could see no sign of any Merigs who could just prove to the boy the truth of what he had heard.

  Hargon picked at his food at midday, disheartened by the doubts he had seen in Bannor’s face. Finally he ordered Navan to assemble all the men garrisoned here as well as the escort they’d brought, and tell them there may possibly be a visit from Dragons bearing riders. Navan grimaced and Hargon grinned unsympathetically.

  ‘It is your job Navan, the day to day dealings with armsmen’

  ‘Yes Sir Lord.’ Navan didn’t sound comforted.

  The Lord of Return made his way upstairs to a small turret room on the north-eastern corner of the lodge. Frinkel had already put parchment ready for use and Hargon dropped into his chair despondently. A faint scratch at the door reminded him that he had told Mena to attend him.

  ‘Come,’ he said quietly.

  The child slid around the edge of the door, closed it and stood before his table, head lowered. Again, all he could see was the top of the white-blonde head. Hargon sighed.