Seventh Born

by Rachel Rossano

  Next came the testing of the new talents. One by one, the new trainees were presented to me for testing of their basic skills, these were the fifteen year olds that had made their first salute to the High King on the first day of the Caelestis Novem.

  There was nothing remarkable among them until Junor brought forth his pupil.

  “Septimus Pewlin,” Tristan announced. It took a great deal of self-control not to look at him quickly. Septimus meant seventh born and it was very unusual for parents to give such a name to a son as a first name. It could almost be considered grasping, like naming a daughter Beauty or a son King. I carefully turned my attention to him as I had all the others.

  As I observed him with both my eyes and my mind, I sensed nothing unusual about the boy. A lanky frame with the usual awkward movement and uncomfortable presence that came with rapid growth spurts, he looked like all the other fifteen year olds that had stood before me. The thought activity was about the same also, feelings of nerves, shaky joints, sweaty palms, worry. I reached out and brushed his mind like I had brushed Zezilia’s and the countless other boys before this Septimus. He shuddered slightly as the taste of his thoughts touched my tongue, but his consciousness remained open before my mind. I recalled Zezilia’s sudden closure, clamping down so that not a trace of her mint essence leaked through.

  “Bring that goblet to me,” I instructed, pointing to a heavily inlaid vessel displayed on a pedestal against the far wall. Then, I sat back and watched on both levels.

  The child concentrated with obvious effort and then moved his right hand. It was a slight movement, not much, but enough to count against him. At his supposed level of talent, he shouldn’t need to use a gesture to focus his talent for such a small task. The goblet hovered sedately across the room toward me, its progress smooth. I reached out and brushed the boy’s mind and the goblet stopped. My mind touch broke his concentration for an instant, but he quickly recovered and the vessel continued its course.

  “Where would you like it, sir?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

  “In my hand,” I replied. I extended my hand, unfolding it flat before me, palm up. The goblet crossed to hang in the air above it. At the last moment, he let go. No easing, no gradual release of control, just an abrupt letting go. The cup fell the last few inches to my palm, and if I did not close my fingers around its base or catch it with my own kinetic talent, it would have toppled to the stone and dented. I caught it with my talent, my hand unmoving.

  Lifting my eyes, I caught the expression of relief on the boy’s features. Our eyes met. I kept my face impassive, but I was not happy. Touching his mind I sent, “Send me an explanation for your clumsiness.”

  The child closed his eyes, I could feel his humiliation like an unpleasant buzz at the back of my head, and touched my mind in return. “I am nervous, Sept Son,” he offered. The words were detached and the strength of the sending on the weaker end. Something was wrong if this child was a seventh son. Regardless, I rose and met his hesitant gaze.

  “Septimus Pewlin, you have passed the initial test to begin your training. You may pass into the beginning ranks. Your trainer shall be Korneli.”

  The boy bowed and saluted, right hand to left shoulder. The hand shook. He wasn’t at seventh son talent level, and I saw that he knew it. I felt for the child, but there was nothing we could do. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one besides me; so, even if I died suddenly, he would not be called upon to take up the responsibilities that would demand all of his talent, or in his case, more talent than he had. At least by placing him under the care of Korneli, I would be able to keep a close eye on him. He did have talent and needed training, but a discreet investigation was going to be needed.

  Finally, I promoted Tristan. He accepted the honor with dignity and a small smile for me. He looked pleased when I outlined his new duties. Then finally, with great relief, I dismissed the gathering. The talents filed out as I stood at attention before my seat. The door closed behind the last, baring Korneli, whom I had requested stay, and I sank into the chair.

  “Well done,” he said taking a seat across from my elevated place. “You handled the Septimus so smoothly I almost didn’t notice the boy’s faltering. Junor was never very good at training. If he hadn’t been a friend of the family, they would have gone to someone else.”

  I shook my head.

  Korneli’s eyebrows rose. “It wasn’t Junor?”

  I shrugged. “It might have been partially Junor’s training methods, but most of it was the boy. I am telling you, Korneli, he is not a seventh born son. And if he is, there is something seriously wrong.”

  “And here I thought you were honoring me by allowing me to train a seventh son.”

  “No, but I am honoring you. I am trusting you to care for the boy. Train him and carefully mold him. He is going to need the support when the truth is discovered, if he hasn’t figured it out already.”

  “What if he has?”

  “Then he is going to need a firm hand and a watchful eye to make sure that he doesn’t develop a dishonest streak.”

  Korneli grimaced. “Either way, I am looking at a great deal of work.”

  “I know you can do it,” I assured him. “In fact, I am convinced that there is no one else who can do it better.”

  He just looked at me for a moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. I did believe that Korneli had it in him to train that boy.

  “Alright, I accept your challenge, Ilias. I shall whip that boy into shape and by next year you will be impressed, no wobbles, no visible nerves, and flawless technique.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “I hope so, Korneli. It will be one less thing for me to keep tracking.”

  My friend leaned forward and smiled warmly. “You will make it. Now come, how about a walk in the gardens before the evening meal? It will keep you out of Giles’ way as he packs, and you can start unwinding.”

  I rose and eagerly agreed. Though I doubted that I would unwind with the Mesitas’s surprise still looming, the thought of a walk sounded good.

  Chapter V

  Zezilia

  Afternoon sun beat down on our heads as we rolled over the last mile. I didn’t mind because my attention was completely enthralled with the beautiful land that unfolded in all directions. Green grasses and trees crowded like little islands of chaos among the great fields filled with long orderly rows of vegetables and grain. Occasionally, the plowed ground gave way to meadows full of cows and horses grazing peacefully.

  “Turn in at the next road,” Errol instructed.

  The next turn led down a narrow track thick with grass between the wheel ruts. It looked recently used, but only after many years of neglect. The road sloped downwards into the shadowed arch between straight trees.

  “Ah, the girls must be here already,” Adreet commented as she fidgeted with her hat and then gathered up her stitching. I leaned forward to see around the driver. The ancient trees lined the trail, spreading their thick green canopy over us. I didn’t recognize the species, but I knew instantly that I was going to love them.

  “I am glad they got here first,” Adreet said as she tucked the last of her thread away in the simple bag at her feet. “That means that the maidservants have been able to begin working on the cleaning.”

  “I only hope Delmar came too. I am not looking forward to all the tending that these lands are going to need.” Errol frowned at the underbrush crowding the cart.

  “Candra will help you.”

  “I know, but the task is beginning to look a bit daunting,” Errol replied eyeing the appearing cottage with suspicion.

  I found myself disagreeing with him rather strongly. The cottage looked perfect to me. Ivy and a flowering vine rioted up the walls on either side of the double main door. The peeling stones were sturdy looking, despite their need of a whitewash. The windows appeared watertight with sturdy shutters for the storm season. Nestled in a bed of wild flowers and brush, I thought th
e entire setting quaint and refreshing after the cool pomp of the High King’s palazzo. I turned to tell Errol so, when suddenly my eyes fell upon the most beautiful sight.

  A great willow, ancient by the height of its stature, stood to the left of the house. Branches and long tresses of leaves stirred slightly in the breeze and my memories of the afternoon in the High King’s garden rose to the surface.

  “Are there more willows like that one?” I asked.

  Errol looked up at the great tree and then turned to smile at me. “A great many more, child. This property is what they call a willow farm. The High King’s willow trees came from here as seedlings years ago. There are willow trees all over the property. Now it is more devoted to vegetables and a great pond area to the west full to overflowing with pussywillows and rushes. I am sure Adreet will have you busily harvesting some of both as soon as she has the household under control. Won’t you, dear?” he asked as the wagon stopped before the front door.

  Whatever Adreet was going to say in response was drowned out by a sudden clashing of raised voices from within the house. The doors burst open and a girl of perhaps eleven came running out, red hair streaming behind her and hand clutching something. Upon seeing us, she swiftly whisked the object behind her back and plastered an innocent look on her face.

  “That is my comb,” a second child yelled as she ran from the house. She was older than the red head. Half of her rich auburn hair fell down her back, while the other half was pinned up nicely. “Mother, please tell Candra to give me back the comb. I am in the middle of putting up my hair.”

  “You are too young to be doing your hair that way,” a third girl protested in a tone of supreme knowledge. “Besides, the combs are mine and you did not ask to play with them.” Unlike her sisters, she moved with a dignified grace. I knew immediately that this was Galatea, the one prone to posing. Not just because she looked to be my age, but because I could see why she would be slightly vain. She was everything I wished to be, slender, but filling out into womanhood, with a classically beautiful face and obviously gorgeous hair that stayed perfectly in place.

  I was thin. My curly hair never stayed in place and in humidity, it frizzed. My face wasn’t ugly, but it was dominated by my nose which was slightly too long for the accepted concept of beauty.

  “But you told me I could borrow them yesterday,” Eloine protested.

  “This isn’t yesterday,” Galatea pointed out.

  “But I didn’t want to use them yesterday. I want to use them today.”

  “Girls,” Adreet interjected. Her mellow voice cut through the exchange. All three girls turned to look at their mother, who was getting down from the wagon. “Eloine and Candra, give the combs to your sister.”

  “But mother...” Eloine began. Candra, however, walked over to her oldest sister and presented her with a sweaty comb.

  Adreet turned and simply raised a hand. Eloine’s mouth shut. “I said give your sister her comb, El. I want no discussion.”

  With visible reluctance, Eloine removed the comb from her hair and handed it over to Galatea.

  “Now that your issue is resolved, I would like to introduce you to the new temporary member of the family.”

  “You mean Ilias isn’t coming?” Candra broke in, eyeing me with suspicion.

  “Ilias is busy,” Errol commented from the back of the wagon where he was unloading the luggage with the help of the driver. “He might visit us later, but it won’t be for a while.”

  “Girls, this is Donellea Ilar, but I believe she would be content with you calling her Zezilia.”

  “Please call me Zez,” I offered as I saluted them formally.

  “Oh, you have been to court,” Galatea gushed. “I am Galatea and you simply must tell me everything about being presented.” She smiled brightly at me.

  “Me too,” Eloine added.

  Candra just studied me with serious green eyes. While the strangely colored eyes looked odd on her father, they looked exotically perfect in her sweet face. I smiled at her in what I hoped to be a friendly way. Based on her mother’s description, I believed that she and I would have the most in common.

  “Her name is Candra,” Eloine offered as she stepped forward. “I am Eloine.”

  “I am pleased to meet you,” I responded politely.

  “Mother, can she stay in my room?” Eloine asked eagerly.

  “No,” Galatea interrupted, “She will be staying with me. After all, we are the same age.”

  “She is having her own room.” Errol set the last box down on the ground with a thump. “Now, all of you carry something in.”

  “But Momma,” Galatea whined in a very unattractive way.

  “It isn’t you mother’s decision, girls. It is mine. I say she has her own room and that is final. Now take this stuff inside. We have a lot of unpacking to do.”

  Obediently, the girls flocked about. I gathered a box of my own and followed the procession inside.

  As I trailed after them, I realized that I had suddenly entered a world vastly unlike the one of my childhood. These girls were nothing like my brothers and the rules were different. They talked constantly, arguing, bickering, and then the next moment kind and considerate. It left me off balance. So, when Adreet showed me to my room, full of my packed things, and left me to get settled, I agreed willingly. Then as the door shut behind her, I sat on the bed and drank in the silence. Somehow I knew I wouldn’t be getting much of it in the near future.

  Hadrian

  LINGERING TRACES OF the day’s heat greeted me as I stepped into the vast dining hall. Korneli was at my heels, in his new place as one of the highly respected trainers. The room hushed and I immediately felt all eyes on me as I strode to my place at the far end of the hall. I didn’t bother to sit, for the High King was the next to appear. Instead, I remained standing before my place.

  High King Honorus arrived with great splendor, his three children flanked him and seven advisors shuffled in their wake. Swiftly, they took their places as the court watched. Then at a signal from the High King, they sat down in unison. I seated myself and the first course appeared, a soup.

  “What is wrong with this cook?” Korneli asked. I had to admit that I agreed. Steaming soup after a rather warm day did not seem the wisest of food choices. However, I was hungry after eating so little at lunch. Hot as it was, I found it delicious enough to make up for the heat.

  During the second course, a stuffed duck, Tristan leaned over and asked me what I was planning on doing next. I spent the rest of the second, third, and well into the fourth course explaining in detail my immediate plans on returning to the estate. He made some positive comments and then returned to his meal.

  The double doors opened and the Mesitas and his minions made a grand entrance in full regalia. Striding to stand in the center of the room, facing the high table with their backs to me, the Mesitas saluted the king.

  “My king, I am sorry to interrupt your meal, but I felt it was urgent that you hear this. The Sibley has received a dream.” The Sibley, believed to be an oracle who conversed directly with the goddess through dreams and visions, spent her life in complete solitude. Only on rare occasions did she come out to speak a prophecy or tell a dream. I stiffened and straightened in my chair.

  “Is this it?” Korneli asked.

  “I don’t know, but it looks like it.”

  I pushed back my chair slightly and tried to relax, bringing a part of my focus into seeing with my mind as well as my eyes. I carefully raised the defensive parameters that were necessary to prevent someone from invading my thoughts. Though she was female, I was not risking anything. Zezilia’s abilities made me wonder at the possibilities in the Sibley.

  “Bring forth the Sibley and let her speak,” the High King replied. “Let us hope the goddess speaks blessing.”

  The ranks of Segia, the Mesitas’s attendants, parted to reveal a middle aged woman. Heavy set and stooped, she looked older than I knew her to be. She saluted the High King an
d his table and then knelt on the floor.

  “Five days ago, my kings, in the mid afternoon at the time of rest I was visited by a vision.” As I counted off the days, I realized quickly she was speaking of the exact day and time that I was confirmed as Sept Son among the talented. “In this vision I beheld a panther, sleek and swift. He was young, in his prime of strength and speed. Upon his forehead there was a gold emblem of power, and he lashed behind him seven tails. He strode through the forest haughty in his beauty and might.” Her eyes alight with eagerness, the woman began to sway.

  “I was intrigued by this beast so much that I followed his silent paws deeper into the jungle, until we reached his den. As I stepped into the darkness of this haven, a voice came to me. It said, ‘See the panther. Behold his vanity.’

  “I replied, ‘I see, my mistress.’

  “’Good,’ she said. ‘Now behold his downfall.’ Out of the darkness stepped a second panther, less strong than the first but baring the mark of the goddess upon its forehead. He leapt at the black panther with the seven tails, latched his jaw on his throat and snapped his neck.” Tears rolled down the woman’s face as she swayed. “Even as I watched, the second panther consumed the first, even to the bones. ‘So is the one who opposes me,’ the goddess said.” Then, collapsing to the floor, the Sibley lay prone and silent. Segia surrounded her, blocking her still form from everyone’s view.

  All eyes turned toward me. It was a struggle to keep my face impassive beneath the scrutiny of so many, but I did. I shut out my reaction from my thoughts. I could react later. Right now it was important to remain impassive.

  I could feel the whispers, but I didn’t lower my mental guard enough to listen. I didn’t need to. The feelings were clear. Finally, the High King rose from his place.