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Madistrin was dwarfed by the room around him, the hearth was half again his height and the massive woven rug that covered the floor of the regal hall made him seem almost child-like. He had learned patience in his role over the years and yet he had never learned to actually enjoy waiting. Raised in the noble ranks and born into the House of Pluris, he was as powerful and commanding as any man in Vedian. Long illness and fatigue had taken its toll, too many long hours spent discussing politics and administrating matters of state had left him weak.
He was never meant to be the one. His departed parents had known that, his elder brother Laferious should have been the rightful heir. He had fallen by accident from the world. A tournament of arms had ended in disaster over twenty years ago. His brother had been an adept rider and natural warrior, a true man of his people. Perhaps at times he could have been overconfident but he had inspired the hearts of men and that was a small price to pay for such a gift. Tall and elegant, strong with sword and quick to anger, he would have taken up the crown in time, the Council would have made him King. Few had doubted that eventuality. He had always been second to his brother, in the peoples eyes, definitely in his fathers eyes and always in his own. Yet for all the beauty and success, he had loved his brother. He had loved him as a child and as a man; never envying his talents or finding jealousy in his natural social grace. He did not harbour this love because his brother protected him or looked after him but because he had done what no other had, treated him as an equal. Laferious had never offered him quarter, never held back his skill in tournaments. Madistrin had lost to him time and time again over the years, but his brother had never looked to his illness or weaknesses as an excuse to dishonour him. He had treated him as any other soldier, as any other man and that had ensured Madistrin's eternal love. Lefarious had fallen under his mount on the tournament, the beast had inexplicably become panicked and threw it's rider, his brother was trampled on the field. He remembered his brother looking up at him as the last breath of life escaped from his broken lungs. There had been no remorse, no pity.
Vedian had mourned the loss of his brother for many years and the role of Crown Prince had passed to him for a new cycle of five years. Upon such time the Council would decide the legitimacy of his leadership for King. Three times the cycle had come and gone, still the council refused his petition for Kingship, as was their right. So Vedian continued to be run regionally by its nobles and at its centre by the Council in agreement with himself. Madistrin smiled to himself, in truth he had no power over Vedian and little say within the Council. They ensured he was kept busy with small matters of state in Pluris, issues of taxes and levies. He had given up ever fulfilling the role, believing as the nation did that he was never meant to be King. The office had died with his brother and the Council now controlled Vedian. For many years he had thought this to be a fair decision, the High scholatic had members of great distinction and respect. Men like Gru-Staedek and Umberto DeFache, he held in the highest regard but times were changing, new faces had entered the Council and the election of Shel-Toro as the new Lore Master had troubled him deeply.
He paused his nervous pacing and slumped down into the long seat that seemed scaled to fit the hall. The warmth of the soft fabric, made him feel sleepy and he pulled his legs upwards. His strength was ailing, his coughing had worsened this year and the accursed heat played havoc with his breathing. He was not old, only forty two in years but has sickness had withered him showing a man ten years more advanced. He walked with aide of a stick while in his halls but not in front of the people. He often walked amongst them, even dressing in their plainer garb, shunning the robes of office. They loved him, as he was a fair and kind man, who legislated well and made few enemies. He was a friendly face, not a warrior or King like Lefarious but a good man none the less. They would bow and curtsey, though he had often asked them not to, he had gained their respect through his service and actions but they were not moved by him. He had thought that he would drift on quietly in life, slowly slipping away as the sickness took him, hoping that no one thought ill of him after he was gone.
Two years ago, a rising level of disorder had come to his attention. Thieves and bandits had entered Pluris, some said they came from Tantagel others said it was the Huskians from the South. A plague had begun to slowly work its way into Vedian, in more recent months he had sent loyal scouts out to the other towns to seek reports of this activity. They had returned with similar stories, raids of caravans were rife and lawlessness had grown throughout Vedian. He could not persuade himself that these vents were not unconnected. He had requested audience with the council, finally receiving their ear at the third time of asking. He had sent his personal guard the last time to ensure they understood the urgency of the matter. Shel-Toro had listened as always, sympathetic and patronising at the same time.
"Do not fret yourself, my fair Prince. We are aware of these matters, though we offer you great thanks as always for bringing them to our attention. Be assured that if this small rabble continues to trouble the good people of Vedian then we will guide your subjects to end the situation. Yet, I feel, it is but a passing phase, it will surely blow over and peace will again bless our land for many more years. Rest now Crown Prince for you look pale and I speak for all the council when I say that we would fear for your health. Why don't you leave this matter in our capable hands?"
Yet after he had departed the Council chamber and left the walls of the University a figure had approached him, warning of dangers that may lie ahead. Asking Madistrin to not abandon his post or his people in the hour of their need. The words had given new life to him, he had begun on a covert plan to ascertain consistent updates of matters all around Vedian. Sending those that were loyal to seek out information and return it to him. For the first time he had felt as though he could earn the role passed to him by his brother. The pain has dulled his strength but never his mind. He began to learn more history of the land and had grown in understanding of Vedian's past. He nestled his head further into the softness of the cloth, the time for action was nearing now and he would need all his strength for the hard days ahead. As sleep took him images began to form in his mind, he dreamt of an army of riders standing atop a hill looking down on the plains beyond. Behind them stood a great fortress and at its crest a lone tower flying a flag. He could see in his mind the crest of the King of Vedian upon the flag as it fluttered in the wind. As a deeper sleep took him his final impression was of the horses departing from the hill, not together but each going separately away from the tower.
The darkness took him and the dreams departed. |
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Febra crouched under the cover of the fish market stall, she had become accustomed to the stench and hardly noticed it now. It was true however that others often brought it to her attention, though she did not care. She had survived too many hard years in the town to be upset by a few churlish words.
She hummed to herself, rocking backwards and forwards as the rain fell hard on the stall above, dripping water down onto her bare toes. It had rained most of the night, a heavy downpour not uncommon this far North in Vedian, the weather would often change from dry and humid to wet especially this time of year.
The marketplace was her home, sometimes she had shared it with others but most of the time she was alone. She survived because she had the will too. In the early years she had relied on scavenging from the traders, some had caught and beaten her, but not all. Comlay the fishmonger had ignored her stealing for years, not even complaining when he arrived early morning finding her asleep under his stall. He had no children of his own and he felt sorry for the girl, often he had thought of taking her in to his own home but the town rules were strict and he was not a rash man, merely a kind one.
Comlay was rather the exception than the rule, most treated her with contempt and as she grew older she encouraged there attitudes. She did not hate them, not as individuals anyway. Yet she was angry, sometimes so full of it that she thought she might burst. So when she was young she began to channel the anger, finding a subject to concentrate on allowing her to carry on surviving in the Luff.
Her mother had died at childbirth, she had learned that much from Old man Talon and her father had abandoned her, choosing to leave the Luff and orphan her to its care. In all the years that passed he had not returned to claim her, or seek out news of her wellbeing. He simply had left her to a life of sorrow and hardship. So she began to hate him, a little more each day. More with each drop of rain that chilled her and every hand that beat down upon her.
Then as she neared adulthood, she took the anger and realised that she would mould it into revenge. The girl knew he was alive, somewhere, she just knew it. She began to ask questions, taking tasks she could get, for money and for the chance to meet with outlanders. She exchanged her favours for information, with the husband far from his home on trading business. Mostly she discovered nothing and was left once more with an anger that eat further into her soul. Last season a man had come to the Luff, a sailor from Tantagel trading wood with the tavern master. He had stayed at the Inn and Febra had found opportunity to offer herself to him, he was a disgusting burly man, cold and spiteful and yet she had not really noticed. Her intent was focused on the one question, where was her father?
The sailor, whose name she could not remember, if she had ever known it, told her of a man that had come to Tantagel and worked the boats through the Pass. The dates seemed correct and the mans age, also a rough description seemed to tally with the information she had gleaned from Talon.
Knowing she would need assistance in Tantagel, she had hatched the plan to recruit some local help to see her to her goal. She knew exactly what the boy Joseph thought of her, he would have be easy to ply to her will but he would not be enough on his own. So she had devised a strategy, a quest that paid money which few could turn down in the Luff. A simple test of their mettle and to gain their loyalty, then if all went well she would move them on to her true goal.
She cared for none of them, they were a means to an end. She bore them no love or hate, she was empty to such emotions where they were concerned. Her eyes stared down at the gutted orndyke that lay in the crate next to her, the small beady eyes looking at her, revealing everything she was, tearing away her face and entering her very soul and beyond.
She pulled a thin knife from the belt on her britches, removing the top of the crate to reveal many more eyes. Then she raised up her arm and began to stab down on the eyes, one by one until they no longer looked upon her and once more she fell silent. The rain splashed down on the market stall, dripping onto the girls bare toes and falling into a pool of red water below but she did not notice. Her eyes looked down the south road and watched for her destiny.
Arn sighted the two boys as they reached the top of the road, he shouted out to them and they paused for him to catch up. Dawn was upon the Luff and the market traders were readying for the early trade, carts were parked all around, offloading goods that had arrived overnight.
"Sleep well?", Arn questioned as he approached.
"No," Speck grumbled, "blasted rains kept me awake half the night."
"Excellent!" Arn smiled, "You will no doubt be a natural wilderness camper my small friend."
Joseph motioned the others to carry on, shaking his head at Arn as Speck continued to mumble and complain about this and that.
They sighted Febra purchasing provisions from the butchers stall, she was arguing with one of the brothers, Herm by the looks of it, Joseph thought. He had never got on well with the butchers' boys. They were a troublesome pair at best and often had picked on Speck in their younger days. Febra had a heavy backpack upon her shoulders and she removed it to slip in the cuts of meat after finally settling on a price. Joseph almost thought he saw a smile on her face as she saw the three of them approach.
"Right", the girl instructed motioning to Arn, "you are in charge of weaponry. Joseph, you take the little one and purchase camping equipment. I have provisions and herbs already."
Speck drew himself up to his full height, keeping a careful eye on Herm who was leaning against the stall eyeing him, "Perhaps we should inspect these wares if we are to survive by them, I don't intend to spend the next weeks eating rodents and rotten leaves."
Joseph placed his hand on Specks shoulder, "Come on Speck, Febra knows what she is doing, leave her be. Lets go and find Old Man Talon and purchase stick and tinder. How much do we have to spend?" He glanced at the girl.
"I have one copper for you and two for the hunter, the rest you will have to find yourself. We must save the rest for the journey." She handed the copper to Joseph.
They ambled northwards to seek out the general stalls, leaving Febra and Arn discussing the merits of knifes and spears.
Febra glanced at Joseph, "I hope Old man Talon is in generous mood, I can not see him parting with all we need for one copper and.." Speck continued talking quietly, "...I have no more coins left to aid us."
"It's ok, I gave most of my wages to mother but I still have a couple of coins left should we need it."
The three stalls at the North of the market were selling a large range of wares for the traveller. Furs and clothing at one and herbs and ointments at the second. The last stall was laden with sticks and cuts of wood of all shades. Behind the trellis stall sat an elderly man, he was bent over his stool as still as a statue, his hands coupled together in his lap gripping a small leather pouch.
"Good morning young fellows," the gravelled voice announced, "what help can an old man be for you today. Something for the mothers kitchen? Or are thy requirements farther afield perhaps?"
He looked up from his perched position and smiled at the young men, he had a kindly face streaked with lines and age. His hair was white but thick and hung long over his shoulders, his eyes squinted to focus in on their faces.
Joseph grinned and winked at the old man, "Nout for the kitchen today Talon, we are after a few supplies for a journey. My friend Speck and I are off to find our fortune and become famous throughout the land!"
Talon nodded and observed them closely forcing him to squint further, "No doubt you will find both. The question is will you like what you find? You would do well to take care, the road is hard these days and it will not be easy to travel. You will need wood for fire and to cook." He fumbled through various bundles of sticks, eventually pulling a large bunch out from beneath the stall. Here, this wood will light in even the dampest conditions. It is not the bark cut from the lands away, it is Vedian wood."
Speck turned his head and whispered to Joseph, "The old boy's really lost it, there's been no wood in Vedian for hundreds of years."
"Correct young master," Talon smiled at Speck, who turned a scarlet colour, "at least no living wood. This bark was taken from the Forests of Malevolence, of which even those in the Luff have heard I'll warrant."
The boys stood in astonishment, the forests Talon spoke of were indeed known to them. Many a time had they been told tales and stories of the forest as children. It was said to be the home of spirits and demons and no man ever visited its borders let alone entered into it. Tales to frighten children Joseph had thought, yet he did not recall ever meeting anyone who had been to the place.
Talon continued, "I purchased these long ago from a traveller, I do not recall his name. I questioned his story at the time but I tested the wood and its properties are true."
He handed Joseph the bundle and then began to rummage in a sack at his side, "A tinder box also you will require." The boys nodded in unison.
His long fingers retrieved a small silver box, ornately engraved with letters on its face. It was unusual for anything in Vedian to bear letters, as few in the land understood them.
"What do the words say Talon, I can not read it, is it Vedian?" Speck peered across the stall trying to get a closer look at the box.
"The language is Vedian but it is very old, older than even I, if such young goats as you can imagine that! The words say 'free will' and the box belonged to a pipe smoker I would warrant. There are still a few leaves crunched in one corner, Talon opened the box and pointed at the contents.
"Free will what?" Joseph asked puzzled by the words.
"Perhaps nothing. I really do not know, not anymore. I have had it for such a long time, yet today seems like as fair a day to part with it as any. Now my payment for such luminary wares."
The boys huddled closer together and Joseph jangled the few coins in his pocket.
"One copper piece is my price and not one less!" Talon smiled at them and handed the box to Speck.
Joseph looked at Speck and quickly passed over the copper to Talon that Febra had given him earlier, "Thank you Talon, it is a fair price indeed."
Talon nodded, "You thank me now, perhaps one day I will thank you. Now I have other customers, a days work is ahead, move on lads and good journey to you." He waved them off with his long fingers and returned to his perched posture.
They turned to leave but the voice interrupted their exit, "Oh one last thing, young Speck, have you ever heard of the Candle Men?"
Speck turned and blankly looked at the old man, "No. I have not. Should I have?"
"No. No." Talon replied, "Farewell then, fair luck with you both."
Confused the pair ambled back towards the centre of the market to seek out Arn and Febra, the area was busy now and the Luff was bustling with its daily business.
They spied Arn at the arms ring, he was gripping a short spear in one hand and a rope net in the other. The stall was equipped with targets at the rear, they where thick butts, woven from straw standing upon large rocks. They were distributed back every twenty paces and designed to test before one was to purchase. Arn was lining up the spear for a throw, he drew back his arm and turned his chest so it was facing sideways to his legs which turned to the target. Then he uncoiled and projected the spear forty feet at the second target. It buried deep in the straw, just landing left of centre.
Joseph and Speck applauded loudly as they approached, shouting and cheering so that a few faces close by turned their way.
Arn grinned and motioned them over, "Its weighted too heavily on one side, that's why it landed off centre. Nonetheless, a fair weapon."
"The only thing weighted too heavily to one side is you, huntsman. Too many nights in the tavern no doubt." Speck prodded Arn in the ribs, he found it impossible not to like the fair hunter.
"Perhaps you are right my friend. Now, I have purchased arms for you both, as I notice you did not yet heed my words of yesterday. I hope that you will not have need of them on the road but I will feel better if they are by your side." He turned to face Speck, "For you a knife, conceal it within your robe, it is forged well and is true. It will serve if the need arrives."
Speck took the short blade and tucked it inside his robe, being careful to point the blade away from his body should he choose to sit down.
"For you Joseph a slightly more unusual weapon. I know you are uncomfortable with bearing arms, so I purchased a hook from Comlay and had the smithy bind it to a spear pole. It is an odd tool but I think it will suit you." He handed the crook like weapon to Joseph.
Joseph nodded, "My thanks Arn, I feel more at ease with a sailor's tool than a warrior's."
"Now Febra will meet us outside the tavern, have you explained the journey to your elders?"
They both nodded.
"What about you Arn, what did your father have to say of the journey. I am surprised he was in agreement with your leaving in the middle of the hunt season." Joseph said.
"He has said little to dissuade me. Though I feel that my decision not to inform him may have played a part in that. It is my wish and it is decided, now let us depart."
As they journeyed from the market ambling slowly down the south road, Joseph thought of all the times he had played in the market as a child. It was always a hive of activity, colour and sound, it held a fond place in his memories. It seemed to Joseph as though things were changing, he had never really wanted anything different from life at the Luff. Yet it was if it was slipping away and he was doing nothing to halt its departure. He reassured himself that the copper earned would go a long way to refitting the Dusk Returner, so he and Pike would sail on for many years to come. In the back of his mind, for the first time in as long as he could remember he could no longer visualise the serpent he would catch in memory of his father. He tried to focus but the image was no longer there. It disturbed him but regardless he carried on.
As promised Febra was waiting patiently outside the tavern, she was sat upon the ground, with her short legs pointed out in front of her. Her head was tossed back as she breathed in the morning air as the sea breeze moved across the Luff.
She seemed to Joseph to be a statue of beauty, a timeless siren that called to him. The cotton shirt draped loosely about her, the sunlight revealing the outline of her figure for all to see. For all her ragged appearance and almost boyish looks she had a feminine and nubile figure that even caused Speck to cough and turn his head in embarrassment.
"Ah my good friends, you have returned. I trust all is well with our purchases." The girl offered this as a statement not a question. She sat up and began to divide up the provisions she had purchased earlier.
She smiled at them, turning to face each of them in turn, "If my manner in any of this has been of upset to you I am sorry. I was not raised as a lady."
Speck held back the urge to raise an eyebrow.
Febra continued," I would apologise to you most of all good Speck. To show my good nature in this matter, I give you now the letters to hold in your keeping. Although you will not need them until we reach Bannermane, I offer them now to show my trust and friendship." She pulled the scroll given to her at the auction and handed it to Speck.
"Hankyu." Speck tried to think of something else to say but could not. Instead he took the scroll and slipped it into his pack, startled and surprised by the girls kind words. He felt somewhat ashamed of his earlier feelings towards her and thought to hold his tongue in the future with matters concerning her.
Arn, short spear in hand and net strapped on his back motioned for them to begin.
"We must follow the South road from the Luff and turn east after we exit its borders. From there the path will be over the Brillmon Plains in a North-easterly direction. We should meet up with the main Pluris-Asten road which we can follow for perhaps another two days march north-west. It will take is slightly off the more direct route but will be an easier passage I think. From there we must decide to either cross the ravine or take time to go around it to the east. That decision is for another day." The tall hunter adjusted his backpack and prepared to rejoin the path south.
"Where after that Arn? After we cross the waters." Speck asked inquisitively.
Arn turned and replied to the lad, "I am honestly not sure Speck. The direction is generally Northwards as I have heard folk tell. Yet I am unsure of exactly the path to follow. Once we pass the waters I suspect it is still another weeks walk, if all goes fair."
Speck asked Febra, checking his tone against any hint of malice, "Did you not seek directions or details from the quest provider?"
"They had little information to give, only as far as the Asten road. I do not think any from the Luff have made the journey. We will trust to our hunters directions." She smiled at Arn warmly leaving Joseph with a strange feeling in his stomach.
As they left to depart, a figure approached from the southern path.
"Now then my boy." The voice boomed at them as it approached.
"You did nay think you would get away without a word to old Pike, did ye?" The stocky sailor came into view, a broad smile crossing his wide lips.
"You know the punishment for mutiny boy! The Dusk Returner will not have traitors in its midst."
Pike grasped Joseph's arms and pulled him close almost squeezing the life from the slim lad.
"I'm sorry Pike, I left word with mother. I did not know how to tell you, so I thought perhaps I could slip off quietly." In truth Joseph was happy to see his Captain, he had wanted to visit him and explain the reasons for his venture but had thought Pike would not accept his aid in repairing the old ship.
"The Goodwoman Caedron explained all Joseph. A young lad needs to stretch his legs on occasion tis sure. And you seem to be keeping good company." he winked at Speck and Arn and smiled at the girl.
"Yet I would not have you leave without my good wishes upon you. Your place will wait on the Returner." The sailor released Joseph from his bear like hug.
"I ask for nothing more." Joseph replied, slapping Pike on the shoulder.
Arn moved forward to address the sailor, "Pike you have met many travellers who journey to the Luff. Do you know the way beyond the ravine to Bannermane? Is there a path that holds a direct route?"
"I'm a sailor Arn, I have little need to know the ways of the land. yet I have heard of a man that lives to the East of the road as you near the horn of the ravine. I heard stories of him in my youth, he must be very old now if he still lives. If you seek him out he may know of a way beyond. Be warned though, he does not treat all travellers kindly though I do think he holds malice to any."
"What name does he go by?" Arn asked.
Pike paused trying to recount tales of an age passed, "I think it was Rundell. Yes that's it. He was a soldier by all accounts, a hermit now. He lives alone, cut off from most and I have heard nothing of him since your fathers time Joseph. Yet a man like that may still be alive, he must be learned in the ways of the wilderness to survive for so long."
"Thankyou Pike. Could I ask but one more favour before I depart?" Joseph looked sincerely at the sailor.
"Of course, anything you require."
"Will you watch over mother while I am away and Specks to if you can. I would feel better if it was so."
The old sailor smiles ruefully, "I shall be getting quite the reputation in the Luff. And at my age too! I will watch over them, do not fear there needs while you travel lads."
They thanked Pike again, Speck shaking him warmly by the hand for what seemed like an age.
As the group departed from the tavern, beginning their exit from the Luff to the south, the sailor watched silently. He knew Joseph's reasons for the trip, Goodwoman Caedron had told him straight. He had wanted to hold the boy from the venture but she had bade him not to do so. Seeing him no, he knew she was right. The boy must make decisions of his own, looking back he had thought that Joseph's father would have done differently. Yet he was not the boys father, he was his friend and as they departed into the morning sun that had risen from the south, he realised he would never see the boy again. But, he thought, perhaps the man.
The debate and discussion had ran for so long that DeFache began to wonder if night had fallen on the city of Pluris. The Highs had called him two weeks earlier via a messenger that had arrived at the Sanctuary of Bridges. He had first been angry, as but a week earlier he had been delivered message that he would not be required at the council moot. That had suited DeFache just fine, he had grown tired of the councils political manoeuvrings. He would be happy to sit quietly in his house, teachings his philosophy and guiding those that requested his teaching. He was not opposed to the council directly only the way in which they went about their tasks. He did not see eye-to-eye with Shel-Toro or many of the Highs but he still had friends such as Gru-Staedek within its confines.
Reluctantly he had made the long trip across the harsh waters of Vedian Bay to arrive at Pluris the previous night. He had stayed within the University walls, as did all scholatic. Early morning he had decided to visit the library at Pluris, spending his time constructively reading some of the newer texts that had spawned over the last decade. For all he loved his own home at the Sanctuary, few sights were more humbling than the largest and most complete library of Pluris. As a child he had not had a fancy for berries or sweet pies, yet if he had he imagined it would have felt like this to have arrived in a house packed full of it, all ready for consumption.
Every great purist and philosopher of this and many others ages were there. All written down in the most beautiful scribed lettering, the covers in leather and blocked in gold. Great words had to be presented such to do them justice. These tomes of knowledge were not works crafted over days or hours. They were discussed and thought carefully over, sometimes taking years or decades to come to print. A great scholar would produce perhaps three texts in a lifetime and be considered prolific. Subsequently those that scribed them took the time and patience to do justice to the works contained within.
DeFache was not held in sway by ego or fame, within the library there where four volumes of work bearing the insignia Umberto DeFache and yet he paid them no heed, rather spending his time pouring over other masters works or new students that had first tomes available to read. He was a sponge for knowledge and thought, constantly taking in writings of others so as to consider and compare, never to proud to make them part of his own philosophy. He had been one of the scholatics great students, an icon of his generation. A brilliant speaker in his time, many could recall his performances as a young man in the Pulpit, the haven for debate and speech in Pluris town square. For years he had actively promoted philosophy working with the council to guide the common man in co-operation with the crown prince. Times had changed and as they did DeFache had disappeared from the forefront of scholatic life and debate. Preferring his purpose built Sanctuary of Bridges on the island off the shores of Vedian. Everyone had said he would be a high, perhaps the youngest ever but it did not come to pass, he was a respected member of the council nonetheless.
Lately he had only reluctantly shared time with his peers, rather spending time in his gardens, beautiful grounds that surrounded his home. he would often sit between the plants and the flowers, just thinking and considering, there he was at peace.
The messenger that had called the second time had announced the council required his presence at Pluris. This in itself was not a diplomatic request, the proper etiquette was for them to ask for his presence, never to require it. So he made the trip and found himself called from the library at midday to attend a meeting of select members. One representing each Vedian regional University and the High council themselves.
The debate had centred around the activity of Crown Prince Madistrin, word had reached Shel-Toro of his followers movements throughout Vedian. Some of the Council did not see Madistrin of any type of threat to the balance of things but the Highs and SanPollan of Coralis argues fervently that he represented a danger to Vedian and its continuity as a stable land.
DeFache had listened, occasionally nodding or shaking his head but never choosing to speak. He was thinking back to his last meeting with Gru-Staedek that old man had pleaded him to realise the truth of what the council were doing. He did not listen because he did not want too. Now for the first time he was beginning to see for himself, that the Council were stepping beyond there boundaries. All the time he sat and listened he could feel the eyes of Shel-Toro upon him, seeking out his mind on the matters discussed.
Finally the debate died down and Shel-Toro rose to his feet, "It is never easy, to see malice in a child. Especially when he is sick and not long for this world. Yet we can not allow corruption from any quarter, lest it seeps too far into the roots of our land. I more than any wish no harm to Madistrin, up to now he has been a fair and good ambassador for Vedian. Perhaps he is merely misguided in his actions. Let us not be hasty in our action, we will send individuals loyal to the peoples cause to watch over him. To ensure, he is not a danger to himself." Shel-Toro smiled and nodded and one by one the Council nodded back at him. As did DeFache, but he was not thinking of Shel-Toro, the council or Madistrin but Gru-Staedek.
As the meeting broke and each departed from the chamber, DeFache walked towards the library once more, thinking that things were happening too quickly. He was not a man of impulse he needed time to think and consider, he believed nothing was more dangerous than action without thought.
The library was quiet as always, within in its tall ceilings was held a pungent smell of knowledge. He had always identified it as such, the scent of leather and parchment, ink and dye. All rolled together in the air, giving DeFache a tangible feeling of being surrounded by wisdom. It offered him comfort. He sat in the deeply padded leather chair, sinking so far into its comforts he hardly noticed the figure sitting opposite him, smiling back.
"Gan Rill Fortuna I did not see you there. It is good to see you in such good health." DeFache smiled and touched his own brow. It was a sign of honour that all scholatic shared.
"It is no bad thing to be lost in thought. That is what this place is all about. But I would step quickly from gracious talk and onto more sober matters." Fortuna's brow was brown tight over his brown eyes.
"Your tone is serious indeed Lore Giver, I implore you to deliver such impatient information." DeFache sat forward in his chair, he knew Fortuna well, the elder was the lead scholar at Gan University in the South of Vedian. Due to the political circumstance of Gan-Taran currently having no resident noble, Fortuna was also responsible for its citizens welfare. The position did not sit well with Fortuna, he was a cerebral man not a statesman and he had found the times difficult at best.
"It is not my place to discuss issues of the council that they would not have discussed. And yet I find myself seeking your ear. It is said that you have taken in to your house, one that is ordained to stay separate. I would not believe your actions are such, as I deem you as I always have, a purist of our lore." Fortuna shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, his sprawling robes getting caught under his long legs that trailed down below him.
"If I hear rightly you are suggesting that I have taken in a commoner to my University. I am unaware of any such action and would not undermine our laws so flagrantly." DeFache's tone was constant in his speech.
"It is as I suspected Umberto. I would not believe these accusations myself of course. Yet I felt it important to inform you of the suspicion that arises within our walls. They suggest that the individual is a young man of Vedtallen, it is clear that idle speculation had got the best of our members once again." Fortuna settled back into his chair, an air of comfort sweeping over his face.
"Vedtallen? They must speak of young Samuel Plutaran, he is my Master of Gardens at the University. He is a herb child, no teachings of the lore is he given." DeFache looked puzzled.
Fortuna stood-up belying his age, "Yet he is a commoner, you imply that. It is clear that no man may live within University walls, no matter what his role. You have erred greatly DeFache in this matter. I do not query your heart, yet I judged you a wiser scholar. It is of no matter that the boy is not taught, he still may not reside in the house of lore. I beseech you now, as I am of those that call you friend. Remove the lad from your house before the council moves rumour into fact. For if that happens then your fate may follow that of poor Gru-Staedek." Fortuna swept past DeFache, his robes trailing behind him. Protesting DeFache rose to question again with the scholar but it was too late he had already departed from the library.
Sitting once again in the leather chair, he rested his hand under his chin. The council would wait in this matter, he would not bow to foolish ways of an age past. He was an upholder of the philosophy and that was not always the same as the law. The words of Fortuna at there end troubled him most, what fate had met with Gru-Staedek, he questioned now in more detail what he ignored earlier. Why had the old man not been present at the meeting, he was the highest at his house. He had thought perhaps an argument or ill health but the tone of the words suspected something more sinister.
His impulse was to ride for Asten-Taran immediately and seek out his friend. In doing so he felt that he may forsake the boy in the long term, he was a commoner it was true but DeFache had in truth always thought there was something special about him. Something different from most of the common man he met.
Thought not action.
He sat and stared at the books around him, the volumes of knowledge.
Time passed.
Then he raised himself up and walked to the doorway, glancing finally at the tomes around him.
Gru-Staedek was a wily and clever old man, he would not forsake the boy, something about him gnawed at the back of DeFaches head. He would return to his Sanctuary and see him safe and then seek out Gru-Staedek, no harm would befall the old man in a few weeks. |