The Faerion (6 page)

Culver watched as the baker rapped on windows, to sell his fresh bread and pastries. He did not wait for his customers to come to him. The shutters were opening; the carts of produce rolled out to the street. The smell of bread awoke the hunger inside him.

"Culver? What are you doing out here so early?"

"Good morning, Elise. I couldn't sleep. I talked to Wynne for a while. Guess she couldn't sleep either."

"Well, she's sleeping now."

"Hm."

"What are you thinking?" asked Elise.

"For me?" asked Elise.

"Always."

"Truly? I wasn't sure. Wynne had captured your fancy."

"Fancy is not my heart. Fancy is whimsical, twittering, gone in a moment. You are eternal in my heart. But I worry for you. I believe the Baron Treteste, or king, whatever he is, will try to find Wynne. What happens if his knights reach Paglo? Can we fight Men? Only the Border Guards are trained soldiers. I certainly am not, and we are so few."

"If such a dire thing comes to pass we shall hide. The knights would not find us. But I think you have a dark view. These things won't happen, surely."

"I am sorry to disagree," said Wynne, from the doorway. "Treteste is obsessed with the Faerion and believes I spirited it away."

"Do you have it?" asked Elise.

"Elise! She already said she didn't."

Wynne paused, thinking. Then she answered Elise.

"No, I do not. But I shall speak no further of this until I meet with your king. I am in no position to idly put your lives in jeopardy."

"Only the king can do that," said Elise with a smile. Wynne shared her humor briefly, and then her thoughts turned to King Yeates and what he tried to make her do.

"How did you become a sorceress?" asked Elise.

Wynne's eyes flashed at that, and then softened before she answered as she realized that the rumors of Nantitet seldom reached Paglo. She found no mischief in Elise's question. Wynne looked in the wide expectant eyes of Elise, wishing a futile wish. What has been done cannot be undone.

"A sorcerer passed through our village seeking a child to be his apprentice. He offered a bag of gold to the parents. I was chosen."

"Your parents sold you?" asked Culver, a fire rising in his chest.

"It is quite common among the poor in my land. Besides, I had been adopted, not a child of their flesh."

"We would never do that, never," vowed Elise.

"Consider it again, if you have twelve mouths to feed and no money. That bag of gold would feed my family many years."

"Did you ever see them again?" asked Elise.

"No."

It was the next afternoon when the king called the council. Culver was surprised to have been summoned. Avolan told him of it when the old Tuor checked his patient and told Culver not to be late. Elise was not summoned and filled Culver's head full of questions to ask and information to learn. He knew he couldn't remember everything she had told him, but he refrained from telling her so. He knew what she would say.

King Ian sat on a raised chair at the head of the table. Avolan sat to his right. Culver sat near the foot of the table. There were eight Tuors present.

"We all know the subject," began the King. "The question is, how do we assist Wynne?"

"Will Treteste look for her here?" asked Tobal.

"Yes. She has said as much," said Avolan. "There are soldiers looking for her even as we speak."

"Send her away," said Marco. "We don't want her here."

"I agree," said Tobal.

"She will be leaving," said King Ian. "That is not the question. Listen to what I say. Think for a change!"

The king's voice cowed the council and they were silent.

"We should send two or three Tuors to help her reach the Daerlan," said Culver. "Perhaps a Border Guard or two."

"Why is Culver here?" asked Marco. "He's just a poet."

"Culver found Wynne," said Avolan. "And is caring for her at his house." Marco snorted.

"I bet Elise is happy," muttered Tobal.

"Elise is happy," snapped Culver.

"Peace," said King Ian, holding his forehead. "We shall not bicker here. Tobal, that comment was ill-advised."

Tobal stood up and bowed.

"I agree with Culver," said Tomen. "I volunteer to guide her over the mountains to the land of the Daerlan. I will gather supplies. No more than four travelers or else we shall draw too much attention in Darkfell."

"Excellent," said King Ian, nodding his head. "The safety of the company is in your hands. Now, who else shall go?" He looked around the table expectantly.

"I will go," said Culver. All eyes looked to him. "She is in need of our help, and Elise likes her."

They all nodded. Elise's opinions were held high in Paglo. Marco thought Culver out of place in Paglo and was happy to see him go.

"Is three enough?"

Tomen nodded.

"It is settled then," said King Ian.

"Settled? Settled?"

They turned to see Wynne and Elise standing at the door.

"It is settled without asking me?" asked Wynne. "Don't I have a say in who guides me? I feel like a commodity."

"This is a council meeting," said Tobal. "And you are not part of the council."

"I little care for your posturing. I thank you for your healer, but I will bother you no longer. I will leave in the morning. If your escort is ready, I would appreciate the company. If not; it is no loss." She stared into each face. She turned and departed. Elise stood glaring at them.

"Foolish males. I am ashamed of you." She stared at them, shaking her head. Her lips pressed together and she nodded to herself.

"I shall go too."

"No, Elise," said Culver. "It is too dangerous."

"If you go, I go. Nothing is as important to me as you are." Culver smiled back at her.

"The weaving fair is next week," protested Marco. "You must represent us. Our honor is at stake."

"You have done more damage to our honor during the last few minutes than my absence at a fair would ever do. Go yourself, Marco. You have such a high opinion of yourself; you should be a great weaver." She looked around the room once more and left. Culver and Tomen rose to follow her.

"Be careful, Tomen," said Avolan. "You have a great responsibility."

"I desired no less," said Tomen. He bowed to his king.

"Go with my blessing," said King Ian. "May the wind be at your back."

The council sat in silence, waiting for the turbulent air to calm.

The figure in the chair did not move. Brother Carle shifted nervously as he waited for an answer. Few in the order spoke aloud an original idea, but Carle knew much about Lord Daass, or thought he did and risked revealing his thoughts. Lord Daass had been Moderator of the Brotherhood of the Rose for thirty years, giving no sign of desiring it otherwise. A tall man, beginning to stoop with age, Daass was still agile and had a wiry strength. He wore a sword in public to remind the citizens of Nantitet that the Brotherhood of the Rose began as warrior knights. However, his mind was the most formidable aspect of his persona. He possessed a detached mind, cold, merciless, with an innate ability to make difficult decisions quickly, thus rising to his current position over the corpses of his enemies. His cold blue eyes looked upon the sloping shoulders of Brother Carle with apparent interest.

Carle remembered that Daass looked at him in much the same way when he joined the Brotherhood. Carle had much higher ideals then; hope for mankind, brotherhood for all races. Those ideals changed, especially when the harsh reality of Daass's vision of the Brotherhood relentlessly expounded into his head, day after day, week after week, like a mantra that at last Carle could recall automatically. He believed Daass's vision his own. He glanced at Sister Dellana again.

He had confided in Dellana first, and drew her into this drama before Lord Daass. Carle's apprehension did not rise from his lack of support for Daass; Carle had defended his leader strongly many times, even to violence. No, his nerves tingled from the knowledge of Daass' treatment of brethren who betrayed him, failed him, and even bored him. Carle believed he would please Daass, but one never really knows. And he had drawn Sister Dellana into his fate.

The young man's eyes flicked over the faces of the others in the room. He observed Brother Arman, next in succession to Lord Daass, Brother Franke, the archivist, Sister Suea, the eldest of the women, and Sister Dellana. Dellana was a little older than himself but very pretty, even in her habit, perhaps the sanest one of them all. He berated himself for thinking that, but it was true in a sense. Dellana did not share the fanatical belief of cleansing the races; that Daerlan were non-human and not destined for Cothos's redemption. Even the Tuors were considered non-human by the Brotherhood although that was untrue. She kept her beliefs to herself and did not know Carle suspected her feelings. Lord Daass had long preached on the subject and Carle had been an ardent believer until he met Dellana. He watched and listened to her and something changed inside him. Slowly, doubt had entered his mind and now he was not sure where he stood on the subject. However, he was in front of Lord Daass for a different reason.

The room was not ornate but the items in it were of the highest craftsmanship. The cherry wood desk shone like glass and the huge bookcases bowed under rows of bound books, many with gold inlay. All the great works of Anavar were on those shelves. All it lacked was the Faerion. The Brotherhood routinely sent such treasures to the chapterhouse and Lord Daass put the items in his collection. He constantly surveyed the contents of his room with satisfaction. His concern for Men's souls made him rich and voice worry that there were too many men that needed his attention. He twirled his gold ring on his finger.

"You say," said Daass, the words rolling across his tongue. "That there is infidelity in the household of Baron Treteste? I don't doubt your words, Brother Carle, but what do you expect me to do about it? The Baron is a man of great wealth and power, not given to obeying the word of another." The heavy man shifted in his chair, the wood creaking under the strain.

"Yes, Lord Daass. I meant to clarify my comments. It is the other person involved who may be of more interest." He quickly glanced at the piercing gaze of Daass, who tapped his finger lightly on the desk.

"Please elaborate. Who is dallying with the Baroness?" The bluntness shocked Carle for a moment, until Daass started snapping his fingers.

"Sir Kirkes." He was disappointed in himself for speaking so quickly. He had intended to trade the information for privileges. I should have known Lord Daass would get the information out of me for nothing.

There was a silence. All faces turned to the smiling Daass.

"Indeed. This is a morsel I can chew. You are to be commended for your foresight, Brother Carle. The Brotherhood of the Rose shall be lifted up by your works."

Carle sighed and stole a glance at Dellana, who smiled back, a slight nod to her head.

"You are dismissed. Please remain on the grounds. I shall have assignments for you later."

Carle and Dellana bowed and left.

Lord Daass watched them go, and then turned to Garlac, vizier of the Brotherhood who entered the room while the others left. The towering Garlac was grey haired, muscular with keen eyes that missed little around him.

"Well, Garlac. It appears to be the break you were looking for."

"Yes, Lord Daass. I am pleased. Sir Kirkes has been a thorn in the side of the Brotherhood for many years."

"Too many," muttered Brother Arman.

"I think we must act quickly, else the advantage slips away," said Garlac.

"What do you suggest?"

"Observation, at first. But our people must be in place and their presence accepted before we force the issue with Sir Kirkes."

"Good. The matter is in your hands."

"Thank you, Lord Daass. May I request a brother and a sister in this endeavor?"

"Hm. I believe you may."

"I think Brother Carle and Sister Dellana should be rewarded for their keen eyes."

"So be it. Remember Garlac, I want results."

"As do I, Lord Daass."

Daass looked sharply at Garlac. "I believe you have an agenda all your own, my friend." Garlac paused before answering.

"I cannot deny it, Lord Daass. But I assure that it does not conflict with the Brotherhood's goals and it shall be executed after I have discharged my duty to the Brotherhood in this matter."

"It is not a matter of trust, you should know that. I trust you implicitly. I am merely curious to what your mind has ferreted out for your advantage."

"I wish to keep silent for now."

"Very well, Garlac. I shall accept your terms for the time being. Mark me: the time being. If the signs I read are correct, you will have to observe Brother Carle and Sister Dellana closely."

"I agree. That is partly why I wished them involved. They are very talented but lack the proper focus. There may be a way to tie them closer to the Brotherhood, if the rules may be altered slightly."

"Rules? The doctrines of the Brotherhood of the Rose? Altered? I scarcely believed your words. You are the Vizier of the Brotherhood. How could you speak in such a manner?"

"It is the only way, Lord Daass." Their eyes met.

"Very well. Do as you must, but your actions are your own, not condoned by myself. Be careful with your dealings with Mortic. The Mordyn have their own motives in this"

"Quite understood. And I am delighted." He bowed and departed.

"Can he be trusted?" asked Arman.

"Of course. He is true to the brotherhood," said Daass.

"Shall I follow him?" asked Franke.

"Brother Franke," said Daass. "Do my words not reach your ears? He is trustworthy. Trustworthy." He looked long at each face.