The next morning, Bria sneaked down to the refectory early and saw the Preceptor at his desk scritching away with his quill in a leather-bound book. He heard her come in and she noticed that as he turned to see who had come in, he dragged a sheet of parchment over his writings.

‘Bria. Good Morning! What drags you out of your barracks so early?’

Bria stopped well short of the desk to try and hide her curiosity about what the Preceptor had been writing. ‘At the reception last night, the Areetan ambassador offered to share some of her knowledge of dragons in return for a visit to our garden. I said that I would pass on the offer to you and let you extend a formal invitation’

The Preceptor smiled wryly. ‘or decline it and accept the consequences.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I see nothing to lose, even if we gain no new insights. The garden holds no secrets. I will pen an invitation and send Jemryn with it after breakfast. Speaking of breakfast, go and roust the others out of bed and start the day.’ He watched her leave before moving the parchment back to the pile and locking his book securely in the drawer of the desk.

* * * * * * * *

Up in the solar above the library, the lore master sat in front of his mirrors, soaking up the sunlight and watching and listening the exchange in his scrying stone. ‘The garden holds no more secrets than you do, my dear Preceptor. And what is in that book that you so want to keep hidden? Even the princess spotted it this time.’ He spread his cloak out across the back of the chair and turned the little handle wheel a few times, moving the mirrors to better focus the light on him.

‘I wonder what has been found in the Lady’s hall apart from a collection of armour, a couple of weapons and an old piece of parchment. How far have they ventured? That old piece of parchment must have been a plan of the gardens with the sun pipes down to the Lady’s Hall. Why else would they be being recreated? Do I need to worry? Could she still be alive? No, it has been four hundred years of silence and two hundred years of darkness.’

He sat there and watched as breakfast was laid out, eaten and then cleared away. He watched the Preceptor pen an ornate invitation and seal it before handing it to the very young recruit who was now wearing a red page’s tabard and he watched him down the hallway and out into the town heading towards the Areetan Embassy.

‘How do I handle this? Take umbrage again? Perhaps I attend and listen and pretend to learn? Opportunities may present themselves.’

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He turned his scrying back to the black hole where the garden with its crystal tree was obscured, his hand absentmindedly adjusting the handwheel to keep the full focus of the mirrors on his back. He gestured with his other hand and a new book floated up from the library below. He smiled to himself as he opened On the properties of Crystals, recalling how keen the Duke of Farrenreed’s man was to sell him new books.

‘An opportunist’ he mused, ‘but perhaps not wise. An opportunity for me.’ His mind flicked back to the Areetan ambassador. ‘First impressions. I must teach first. Anything she says that contradicts me will be more likely to be discounted.’

He heard a noise downstairs and turned the focus of the scrying stone down to the bottom floor of the archive. One of the knights was sorting through a pile to remove one of the lower books. ‘Ah Sir Henrik. And why would you be interested in A visit to the wood weavers?’. The Lore Master watched Henrik restack the pile and leave with the book, before his thoughts turned back to the ambassador.

* * * * * * * *

Rosa’s chair was bathed in the soft light coming from the rock crystal pipes and she sat there concentrating on a tiny glowing stone and muttering to herself.

'Preceptor, Henrik, Lars, Anders, Bjarne and Bern is six. The barracks show another five beds were in use. The four girls – yes yes I know Camryn is down but she’ll come back as good as any of the other girls. Bern and Anders haven’t gone looking for wreckers. That’s just an excuse. The three noble lads, Vann, Davorin and Hrafn is eighteen and the three guards, Atli, Heiki and Tapani make twenty-one. I suppose there could be more out of the city but the barracks don’t show that. That leaves the Lore-Master and the rabbit.’

She mused for a moment about Jemryn. ‘A nice boy with a nimble mind and worth cultivating, hardly a dagger but perhaps a lockpick.’

Her mind swung back to the rest of the guards. ‘eleven lethal, and the boys not so far behind. The girls aren’t ready but the charged armour and the poleaxes would even up the difference. Will that be enough on my side? Could I win if they all turn against me?’

She sat still remembering the foolish young suitor who had brought a king’s ransom in weapons. She had laughed them off to Nia but they weren’t toys. The wood had been harvested and shaped by wood weavers before the delvers of the north had forged the heads and filled the hollow part of the shafts with a slender rod of diamond to hold a charge. They must have cost a fortune.

She felt a mental tic and focussed back on the stone in her hands, following the magic back to its source. ‘Lore-Master! Those mirrors are clever. And what are you watching so carefully.’ She frowned. The mirrors were more efficient at collecting light than her rock crystal pipes. ‘Breaking them would betray me and the damage is done already. Bringing enough mirrors here would be noticed. Hmm. Enough magic. I must build my stores, not deplete them. Although …’ She paused. ‘The poleaxes might be used to bring light from the tree. Let’s keep him away from his mirrors as much as maybe and see if we can tweak a little depletion from him’