‘Your graces, thank you for your patience. Please come and sit in the garden.’ The Preceptor ushered the family out into the walled sun-lit garden. ‘We must not disturb the silence of the vigil, but here we should be able to talk. I have sent word to the kitchens for refreshments.’
The duchess inclined her head and strolled down the path, breathing in the scents of all the different floral scents. ‘Preceptor, this place has never failed to delight, the few times I’ve been allowed to visit. The knights’ gardening talents rival my own. This is the hidden gem of the palace. I am amazed you don’t have half the court sitting out here. Does the king never think to hold an outdoor court here?’
The Preceptor laughed. ‘Your grace flatters us. We keep it tidy but mostly it looks after itself. We … discourage visitors I suppose. No-one really wants to enter our gloomy lair so never discover the garden. Besides. Lars would scowl at anyone brave enough to walk on his grass and heaven help a courtier who attempted to pick a bloom.’ He walked over to a bed containing tall white flowers, snapped off a spike and presented it to the duchess.
“Ah, Tuberose.” She brought it up to her nose and breathed in. ‘Spice and seduction. You should bottle this.’
‘The apothecary does. He will be here in a day or two with his cutting knife and basket. We get a small return.’ The Preceptor shrugged. ‘We do what we can not to be a drain on the exchequer. This is the only place that they grow on the islands.’
The duchess narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps I should handle the negotiations on your behalf. The perfume is scandalously expensive. He sells it to us at a tear a drachm.’
The Preceptor smiled faintly. ‘Thankyou your grace, perhaps we could first discuss what you would charge us for your services? Please, take a seat. We must discuss today’s turn of events.”
The duchess took a seat on a stone bench in the centre of the garden but the duke moved to stand behind it. His steely grey eyes glinted in the sunlight and they were fixed on the Preceptor like some predator, waiting to strike. Jemryn’s eyes were similar in colour to his father’s and they too were fixed on the Preceptor but were filled with apprehension.
The Preceptor sat down on another bench facing them, propped his halberd against the arm rest and took his helm off for the second time that day. ‘Technically, your son’s wit won him the right to stand vigil but he’s too young.’ Jemryn’s face fell. ‘As older child, I assume your daughter will inherit Farrenreed’
The duchess nodded and smile at her daughter who was staring at the crystal tree sculpture at the end of the garden. ‘Indeed Preceptor. Already she shows promise in the commerce that underpins the island’s economy.’
The duke grinned. ‘Jemryn, alas, does not, being obsessed with history, music, art, puzzles and his martial skills.’ He winked at Jemryn.
Jemryn looked down at the grass and went red. His mother, seeing his embarrassment, tried to save him. ‘Leave him alone Leander, He may not be cut out as a trader, but everyone may find their place.’ She saw her daughter edging towards the crystal tree to have a better look. ‘Skadi, come away from that tree. There are some odd rumours about its effects.’
The Preceptor smiled and shook his head. ‘She may look. Most of the rumours are mindless chatter. She can’t get close. Even the Lore Master can’t approach and he frequently studies it. Watch!’ He took another of the tokens from the pouch and threw it at the tree. It got to within a spear’s length of the tree and then twitched sideways, smacking into the wall. ‘If you find the token, you may try a throw yourself.’
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Skadi scampered over to the wall and, after a moment’s scrabbling in the turf, came back with the token. She hurled the token at the tree as hard as she could and, as before, it twitched sideways, hitting the wall several paces from the tree.
The duke grinned and said, ‘Returning to Jemryn, I think the good preceptor may already have a place for him in mind.’
Inwardly, the Preceptor breathed a sigh of relief. The duke’s legendary astuteness was going to make this easier than he had hoped. ‘We have only accepted 3 young men from the front of the line. Anyone can swing a sword or an axe, but we need and encourage intelligence too. Jemryn is too young yet but he will grow. I would like to offer him the place of page. With eleven novitiates to train, we will need someone to help us run the day to day business of the guard, be it taking messages to and from the king, escorting visitors or any of the other myriad of minor tasks that we normally do ourselves. In return, we will teach him our lore and train him. When he is of an age, he can stand vigil and take the place he has won. Is that acceptable?’
Jemryn held his breath as he looked at his father. The duke looked at his wife and said, ‘Your thoughts?’ The duchess looked slightly stunned ‘What if he changes his mind? When will he see his family?’
The Preceptor nodded. ‘We will release him, should he change his mind and he will get time off to visit his friends and family’
The duke held out his hand ‘I will accept on his behalf. Once he reaches his majority, he may make his own decision about whether he wishes to carry on.’
The Preceptor gripped the duke’s hand and shook it. ‘I don’t think we have a uniform or any training weapons small enough, but we can arrange that in due course.’
The duke shook his head. ‘I will arrange it. With your leave, I will take Jemryn to gather a few things and have him measured for a tabard. He will be back here for the evening meal. Come Skadi!’
His daughter picked up the token one last time and held it out to the Preceptor but he shook his head.
‘Keep it. Maybe one day you will want to stand vigil yourself ‘He stood and picked up his halberd but left his helm on the bench. ‘Thank-you for your wisdom, your graces. If you don’t mind, I will let you out through the back door of the refectory, rather than go through the Southern Hall and disrupt the vigil. It’s the usual route when we’re not standing on ceremony. Jemryn may come back into the halls the same way.’
He led the way back into the refectory and over to a door in the eastern wall which led into a corridor that ran down to the main courtyard that sat between the palace and the citadel wall.
* * * * * * *
The Lore Master had made his way up through the two floors of the archives and into the solar that jutted above the roof of the Southern Hall. It was made from slender stone pillars with expensive glass windows facing south, east and west. In the centre was a chair and around the back wall hundreds of little mirrors on a frame, all arranged to focus the sunlight on the chair. He sat down in the chair and wound a little hand wheel that moved the frame along little rails set in the floor so that more of it caught the sun. When he was satisfied that as much light as possible was falling on him, he sat down and pulled over a little stand with a smoky crystal set into the top. He hunched over the fist-sized stone and after some minutes it began to glow. He peered into its depths and shrugged. The Southern Hall was still shielded and so was the garden. ‘Blasted tree. It must be possible to bend its power to other purposes, or at least harvest it.’ The Lore Master was certain that the crystal tree collected light to power all the ancient spells such as the ones that blocked scrying in the Southern Hall and the Garden.
He watched the refectory until the Duke of Farrenreed and his family appeared from the garden and then let his vision follow them as they left the palace and headed out through the north gate towards Jarl Street with its mansions. As they passed through the gate, the duke stopped and looked back at the Palace, seeming to search for something.
The Lore Master shivered a little, certain that the duke had felt his gaze. In all his years of watching, no-one had ever reacted like that. ’Perhaps he has a talisman that alerts him. He trades far enough. A cool head though, not to be spooked.’ he muttered to himself. ‘Took long enough to trigger! He should ask for his money back.’