A slight movement caught Birlerion’s eye. Someone was approaching along the path, but when he looked back, the Lady had gone, and Jerrol appeared transfixed by his communion with the tree and surprisingly was still standing. The figure drew closer, and Birlerion recognised her as one of the smith’s daughters: the elder, he thought.
When he glanced back at Jerrol, he stifled a gasp. Jerrol stood clear of the tree, but he was linked by a soft glow which emanated from the bark and coalesced around him. His eyes were wide and gleamed silver in the dim light. His hand rose of its own accord as if to greet the young girl approaching him.
“Guardian.” His voice resonated deep in Birlerion’s bones.
“The line protects,” she said in return, lifting her face towards him.
Jerrol bent his head, and their lips touched; the young girl jolted back with a gasp and fell to her knees.
The Lady’s euphoria resonated in his bones. Birlerion couldn’t help smiling in wonder as the girl braced herself as the Guardianship coursed through her body, relaxing as it settled as sloshing water stills in a cup. Joy transformed the girl’s face to an unworldly beauty as she lifted her face to the sentinals and bathed in the moon’s triumphant light. The Lady’s joy rang in Birlerion’s inner ear as his blood sang through his veins in counterpoint. A low murmur of voices stirred in surprise as if awoken out of deep sleep.
Birlerion watched Jerrol. “Are we done now, Captain?” he asked as he drew Zin’talia out into the moonlight.
“I sure hope so. This night has been plenty long enough for me.”
Birlerion glanced up as the air shimmered and a rare smile lit up his face. He held his hand out. “Did you hear the Lady?” he asked.
Jerrol gasped as a small black and white, cat-like creature appeared. It flipped its scaly wings back and wrapped its thin tail around Birlerion’s wrist. Birlerion ran a finger down its white chest.
“It’s real,” Jerrol gasped.
Birlerion smiled. “This is Lin. She’s an Arifel. One of the Lady’s messengers. They used to carry messages for the Guardians.”
Jerrol gaped at him. “It was you. At the palace. It’s been you all along, hasn’t it?”
Birlerion eased his shoulders. “As the Lady wills,” he murmured, dropping his face into the Arifel’s soft fur, luxuriating in the creature’s silky touch. The Arifel meeped and rubbed her face against Birlerion’s and then disappeared.
Jerrol helped Gilly to her feet. As he straightened, he realised a variation of his rangers uniform had replaced his grimy sheet. His jacket and trousers were a greyish green, which gave off a subtle sheen in the moonlight. The cloak was soft and fleecy warm, yet supple and not bulky. He knew if he saw himself in a mirror, he would be wearing the same uniform as Birlerion. He swallowed as a laughing voice breathed in his ear, “It’s a long time since I had the dressing of a ranger,” and faded away again.
“Come on, let’s get Gilly home. We can talk later.”
They escorted Gilly to the safety of her surprised father’s arms, stabled Zin’talia back in her stall in the still-standing barn, and then strolled up the high street towards the Black Hen.
“I wonder if Jennery had as exciting a night as we have,” Birlerion said with a happy grin. “He’s going to be annoyed he missed all the fun.”
“You never know, he might have found his own fun,” Jerrol said, surprised as Birlerion laughed. He blinked; the Sentinal laughed.
“Ha! I’ll bet it was nowhere near as exciting as ours: blazing fires, collapsing buildings, nearly getting burnt alive, the Lady’s grace. Nothing beats that.”
“Well, we’ll find out shortly. Here he comes now,” Jerrol said as Jennery came hurrying towards them.
Jennery looked as if he were bursting with news, but none of it good by his expression. “Jerrol! You’re not going to believe this.”
“Let’s get out of the street,” Jerrol said. “I doubt any of this is for general consumption.” He led the way back to their rooms at the inn. Once the door was shut behind them, Jennery fumbled to light the lantern with a spill from the banked fire.
“Don’t you use firesticks?” Birlerion asked, watching Jennery struggle.
“A what?” he asked as the wick finally caught.
“A firestick, you just strike it, no messing with spills or flints.”
Jerrol cleared his throat. “You’ll have to tell us about them another time. Safe to say, I am quite sure we don’t have them anymore.”
Birlerion stared at him. “I thought the flint was bad enough, but no firesticks? I thought it was because we weren’t in the city.”
“What’s wrong with a flint?” Jennery asked. “They may be expensive, but they are much faster. We’re lucky Jerrol has one.”
Jerrol laughed at Birlerion’s expression. “Jennery, report.”
Once Jennery was sure no one could overhear them, he dropped his voice and gave his report. “The blond-haired man accompanied the good Father, and they went straight to his home by the temple in the square. They didn’t take any side turns, didn’t stop at the temple, straight home. Five minutes after they arrived, they had a visitor. Tall, cloaked, appeared from nowhere, didn’t see him enter, no horse.
“The Father was very nervous around him, very obsequious. They spoke for maybe half an hour. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear anything, and then the man left. Stepped into the dark and was gone. I couldn’t see a trace of him. It was like magic.
“The interesting thing is that the Father immediately began writing out notes as if passing on instructions. There were five, which he addressed and sealed. He left them on his desk and after he went up to bed, I, ah, let myself in and checked who they were addressed to. They were for the town councillors, all five. Here.” He handed over a sealed note.
“Won’t the Father miss one?” Birlerion asked.
Jennery shrugged. “He used a plain seal. It’s easy to reseal; he’ll never know.”
Jerrol tilted the note towards the light and inspected the writing on the front. It was addressed to Councillor Forbes. He broke the seal, trying to keep the damage to the minimum, and read the contents. He whistled before handing the letter back to Jennery. “That is treason.”
Jennery, scanning the words, nodded in agreement before handing it to Birlerion. “I don’t see how it benefits them, though.” His brow wrinkled. “Seceding from the King’s rule, won’t that expose them? I can’t see what they gain.”
“Not if it’s a coordinated event and multiple councils secede at the same time. It is either a distraction or part of a larger purpose. I imagine this is not a localised action,” Jerrol said. “The bigger concern is that the whole council has been turned, along with the town’s spiritual leader. They control the voice of the town. Someone has been very busy, and no one has noticed.”
“This has the feel of the Ascendants. They were very persuasive. They were able to make people do things that they would not normally do. And the person would have no memory of doing it,” Birlerion said, his voice pensive. “But the Lady took all the Ascendants with her, or so I understand, so it can’t be.”
“We don’t have enough information. Who was the visitor? Who are the new council advisors and who sent them? There seems to be a network of new players involved, and we don’t know anything about them. I think that is our first step. Find out who the advisors are and where they came from and most importantly of all, what they are saying.
“Someone is coordinating them. We need to find out who. Can you make a copy of this and return it, Jennery? Good work. And then, we need to get some sleep and start again in the morning. I’ve had enough excitement for one day!”
Chapter 11
Chapterhouse, Old Vespers
The Chapterhouse was quiet. The scholars were slumbering, all except one. A slender wraith slipped through the corridors until she reached the open garden in the centre. Listening to the sounds of the fountain, she fumbled for the stone bench before seating herself; turning her face up to the nig
ht sky, she waited.
The moonlight bathed her face, leaching the colour from her skin, from her robes. She sat as if carved from living stone, breathing in the night scents of rosemary and broom planted in the beds behind her, tasting the metallic tang of water.
Combined with the sound of the gentle patter of the water tumbling in the fountain, she knew where she was. She breathed in the quiet night as she listened; something had woken her up and sent her scurrying through the halls like a mouse. The singing tension that had been present since she had awoken faded. Taelia sat quietly, waiting for what she knew not.
She dreamed of tall men and women dressed in high-necked silvery-green uniforms. Their silver eyes glinted with purpose as they prepared for battle. They waited. They had been waiting for centuries. She dreamed of a Captain. Newly claimed with silver eyes in a precious face she had never seen yet knew. She reached out a gentle hand to caress his cheek, and his lips curved into a soft smile just for her.
She jumped as a hand gripped her shoulder. Taelia found herself curled up on the bench, her cheek lying on the gritty stone. She slowly sat up, swinging her legs over and steadying herself, gripping the seat with her hands on either side. Whatever had woken her up had gone.
“Taelia, what are you doing out here? Asleep, where all can see you?” Torsion’s voice was sharp.
Taelia turned her head towards Torsion’s voice. “Something was wrong,” she said, her voice blurred with confusion. “But I don’t know what.”
“Well, sleeping on the bench in public view won’t help you figure it out.”
Taelia blushed. “Am I? I don’t remember, where am I?”
“You’re in the central courtyard, and our fellow scholars are staring. Come, let me take you back to your room.” Torsion lifted her to her feet, his fingers gripping her shoulders painfully.
“Where have you been? When did you return?” Taelia was confused. She remembered retiring to her room last night and awakening suddenly, but after that, she didn’t remember leaving her room, nor had she expected Torsion to wake her.
Torsion hesitated before replying, the moment lost. “It’s a little after six in the morning,” he replied, guiding her tentative steps out of the courtyard. There were, in fact, a few curious scholars gathering at the refectory windows.
“Something woke me up,” Taelia muttered.
“Do you remember what?”
Taelia’s brow creased as she thought. “I heard Jerrol, or was it Jennery? Are they together? I thought Jerrol fled on his own.”
“Jerrol? What need has he to flee? I thought the King kept him on a tight leash?” Taelia felt him tense as he steered her down the corridors back to her room.
“The Prince accused him of treason, threatened to execute him.”
“Then he’s lucky he’s not dead,” Torsion said with exasperation. “How did he escape?”
“I don’t know.” Taelia turned her fearful face towards Torsion. “You can’t believe it’s true.”
Torsion squeezed her arm and brought them to a halt outside her door. “I believe he is capable of anything. He always follows his own rules. You should know that, you’ve been there, you’ve paid the price for his mistakes.” He pushed open the door and guided Taelia in.
“That’s not true, and you know it.” Taelia pulled her arm out of his grasp and turned to block the doorway.
Torsion huffed and pushed her in, his veiled strength easily overpowering her attempted stand. “You know what I mean. He is too eager to fight when he should talk. He defaults to the blade when reason should prevail.”
Taelia drew herself up, her face pale. Her voice was hard when she spoke. “I thought better of you, Torsion. I thought you were his friend.”
“I am his friend. Friends recognise faults. They don’t ignore them. He is my friend despite his propensity for violence.” He took a deep breath and softened his voice at the sight of her rigid face. “Taelia, I can help him. What did you see?”
Taelia shook her head; anger coursed through her, making her jaw ache.
“I’m sorry, Taelia. He is my friend; he’s like a brother to me. I’m just not as blind to his faults as you are. I can help him, but only if you tell me what you saw.”
“I’m not sure. Something important was happening. I was scared for Jerrol, something wasn’t right, but I don’t know what.” She took a step back and bumped into her bed; she sat down. “He’s alright now though,” she said as she closed her eyes.
“Where was he?”
“With his Sentinals.”
“His what?” Taelia could hear the shock in his voice.
She lifted her face and opened her eyes. “The Lady claims what is hers,” she whispered, staring at him. Torsion took a step back as her brilliant turquoise eyes bored into his as if she could truly see him. They started to glow as Taelia began to speak; he strained to hear the words as Scholar Deane Liliian spoke from behind him.
“Scholar Torsion, you are not supposed to be in the female quarters,” she snapped.
“Hush,” he hissed over his shoulder as Taelia’s voice overrode theirs. Her voice was full and rich, resonating through their bones as they stood frozen in her doorway.
“The Captain of the Guards awakens,
His Sentinals await his commands.”
Liliian pulled Torsion out of Taelia’s room. She was a strong woman, and her face was like thunder as Torsion opened his mouth to protest. He swallowed his words as his heated gaze clashed with her stormy glare, and he stepped back, bowing low. “My apologies, Deane. I was but offering assistance.”
“I will speak to you in my office. Leave us.” Liliian didn’t wait to see if he obeyed; she stepped into Taelia’s room and shut the door. Taelia’s voice continued, her eyes fixed, the altercation unseen:
“The forgotten are stirring,
The time is at hand.
Beware those who rise,
Thy will to enslave.
Stand firm and true
My people to save.”
“Taelia?” she whispered, gently touching the girl’s shoulder. Taelia shuddered and blinked. Her eyes resumed their natural colour, and she lurched to her feet.
“Taelia, all is well, you are in your room.”
“Where’s Jerrol?” she gasped, her hands reaching.
Liliian gathered the questing hands. “He is not here. I don’t know where he is. You were dreaming.”
“I was?”
“Yes, all is well. It’s time for you to go back to sleep.” Liliian pulled back the covers and helped her back into bed. She rubbed Taelia’s feet briskly; they were freezing. When she was sure Taelia was asleep and muttering no further portents, she left the room and shut the door.
Chapter 12
Deepwater Watch
Alyssa tried to contain her excitement as Millie finished plaiting her auburn hair. The day dawned bright and clear; the skies were a vivid blue outside her window. The Lady blessed the day. Her first Holder confirmation! She was going to witness her first Guardianship, and she could hardly sit still.
“Be still,” snapped Millie yet again. “The more you fidget, the longer this will take.” She was trying to weave green ribbons into Alyssa’s plaited hair, the only way to control her stubborn curls.
“Oh Millie, isn’t he handsome though?” Alyssa’s eyes shone. Aaron had swept her off her feet the previous evening. “So attentive and he dances so well,” she sighed, remembering such a pleasant evening. Aaron had been waiting to welcome the Lord Warden of Greenswatch and his daughter in the courtyard. A tall, fair-haired young man with broad shoulders, dressed in forest green from head to foot. He had flashed her a broad smile, and Alyssa had been captivated by his deep brown eyes, fringed by long black lashes.
“Lord Hugh, Lady Alyssa,” Aaron greeted them. “Welcome to Deepwater.” His voice was deep, and the rich tones made her shiver. He stepped forward to help her dismount onto the wooden block a page pushed into place. His strong arm assisted her to the
ground, and she looked up into his smiling eyes. An answering smile hovered about his lips as he lifted her hand, and her skin tingled with the kiss he planted there.
He led the way into the shadowy halls. “My people will show you the way to your rooms to change and freshen up,” he said with a quick nod at the waiting staff. “I look forward to starting the evening with a dance, Lady Alyssa,” he said as she was escorted away.
And dance they had. The evening was a long whirl of partners and Aaron and meeting new people and dancing and Aaron. Aaron had been attentive all night, hovering protectively over her as he introduced her to his friends. He introduced his mother, Lady Olivia, at one point, a careworn lady who hardly spoke. She was dressed all in black, which made her look paler and more faded.
It was such a sad story. Alyssa heard snippets through the night and managed to piece it together. Her husband, Lord Stefan, had been killed in a hunting accident, shot by his men as he crossed their path. They had been very happily married, so the gossip went. She had been devastated by his loss and wouldn’t believe the reports, appealing to the Lady for justice, pressing Aaron to question his men further.
There was even a subtle suggestion that her mind had been overly affected by it all and maybe Aaron would be better served, they said with knowing looks, sending her somewhere quiet to recover. And hands over mouths, they would giggle and move on.
“There, a certain young man is sure to be bowled over now.” Millie grinned knowingly at Alyssa. Alyssa blushed but held her tongue and, shaking out her robes, led the way out of the room and down the stairs.
Lord Hugh paced. He had taken precautions, but now he was wondering if they would be enough. Could he trust his people still? Or had these invidious lies percolated everywhere? They were fast approaching the time for Aaron’s confirmation, and he instinctively knew it was going to be a travesty. He hadn’t quite decided what to do.
The previous evening had been a revelation and not a good one. Everyone he had spoken to had either been afraid to say anything or mouthed platitudes about the new councillors. He was beginning to regret bringing Alyssa with him.
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