Chapter 27
Our tales are woven through with the tales of the cruel sister, the greedy brother, the heartless mother, the vicious father. All seem to have the upper hand until The Event happens. What that event is, is different in every story, every tale, but what the event signals is the moment that the weakened party, the abused sister, the brother who is kicked out of hearth and home, the child who is abused, decides to do the right action in spite of being poor, or abused, or lied about. And in the end, their right action leads them to overcome all obstacles and rise to the highest places.
Alas, justice in real life is not always served that way, but we do learn through our stories, that this is what we should aim for – to be kind and caring, to be fair and honest, steadfast, loyal and willing to put up with much.
Learn what the stories tell you, children. You’ll be much better people for it.
Small Tales of the Past for Young Minds – Sharai Bluebottle of the Alder Branches
At the Dragon Web station in Goblin Market, there was a hush over the waiting room in front of the VIP area. Only a half dozen people were there, most of them there to secure and clean the incoming carriage, but as the clanking noise and bell that announced the arrival of the VIP carriage sounded, and the attendants hurried to secure the carriage and open the door, a collective breath was taken by two of the people who were waiting.
“Well here we go,” said Thornfield Witstone, brushing an invisible bit of dust off his seldom worn formal uniform, all red serge with gold buttons and shiny trim. It’d been a while since he had cared for his outfit, and the buttons and trims weren’t as shiny as they should have been, and even a spot or two of tarnish were visible. He hunched forward a little as he waited, in part because he was taller than most investigators, having come from a different clan. There was no way he could pass for one of the regular investigator clans. Even his brown scales weren’t designed for the colors of his outfit. And because of the lateness of the announcement, he hadn’t had time to press the jacket of his uniform and it hung a little awkwardly over its frame. His left wing twitched, where the jacket rubbed a little. His anxiety about what this meeting meant were high, and his male head spikes glowed with his nervousness.
Standing next to him was Umber, properly small and gray like a true investigator of the old bloodlines should look. Umber’s uniform fit him immaculately. Also red serge, each piece of metal ornament adorning it glinted with polish, and it had been properly tailored to fit him. His wings lay properly folded on his back, and his eyes and head spikes radiated with a different emotion – excitement.
“I’ve always wanted to talk to Byrony Gabbro,” he said. “He’s been one of my heroes for years.”
“Just don’t embarrass us with your hero worship,” Thornfield said. “I don’t want to get transferred because you made him unhappy.”
The door opened up, and out strode two dragonkin dressed in the black uniforms of the DIC enforcers, the closest the Dragonkin had to military, sword at their hips. Each flanked one side of the doorway. After them, another Dragonkin strolled out, wearing the emerald green uniform of DIC administrators. A small coterie of other dragonkin in a mix of black and red uniforms followed behind him.
Thornfield and Umber saluted as he stepped out.
“What brings us the honor of your visit today, sir?” Thornfield asked, a small tremor in his voice. “We would have done more if we knew you were coming.”
Byrony looked at the two dragonkin in front of him. His eyes didn’t linger on Thornfield very long, but he paused at Umber.
“You’re a Madrona, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be the son of Ishtan Madrona, would you?”
Umber went at full attention. “Yes sir. That was my father, sir.”
“We lost a good man when we lost him. I’d worked with him a few times, and he was always an exemplar as a DIC. I know your uncle as well. I had heard his nephew had just graduated. And here you are.”
Thornfield gave the younger man a surprised glance. “He knows who you are?” he whispered.
“Thank you, sir,” Umber said, ignoring Thornfield. “My uncle has always spoken well of you, sir.”
The attitude of Thornfield did not escape Byrony’s notice.
“At ease, men. Let’s head to your office. I’m on a bit of a mission, and I’d like to talk to you in someplace a little more private.” He turned to the rest of his followers. “You enjoy the lounge here. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Cardin, Rushin, you can follow me.”
Thornfield swallowed hard, took a deep breath, then led Byrony and Umber and the two guards through the station to the DIC office. They were basically ignored by the Goblin Market locals doing their own business, but all eyes of the employees followed them as they headed for the office. Standing at attention, the guards stayed outside while the three men entered.
Thornfield’s desk papers and his stash of novels had been quickly assigned to a box under his desk once they had the news, so his half of the room was a bit more presentable than usual.
“Sorry about how small the space is, sir. Goblin Market is just a little station, and we don’t get much business.”
“Except for transport fees and paperwork. I started in a station like this,” Byrony said, nodding. “No need to apologize.”
Umber offered Byrony the best chair in the office, then leaned against the edge of his desk. “I’ll have to write my uncle and tell him I got to meetyou, sir,” he said. “He’ll be pleased to hear what you said about my father.”
Thornfield winced at the sound of hero worship in Umber’s voice. He quickly broke in. “Would you like something, sir? Tea?” he asked. His hands almost shook as he got ready to ring for service.
“No,” Byrony said. He looked at Thornfield with amused eyes. “I won’t be here that long. I’ve hit almost every Dragon Web office between Willowick and here the last couple of days, and I don’t think I could hold another drop of tea.”
Umber smiled, then dropped his head, suddenly aware of Thornfield’s reaction. He could already hear the lecture he knew his supervisor was going to give him once the VIP visit was over.
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“So how can we be of help to you?” Thornfield asked.
“I would like to borrow young Madrona here a few days,” Byrony said.
“Borrow?” Umber said, his voice a whisper between hope and shock.
The brown Dragonkin’s eyes opened wide. “Borrow?”
Byrony nodded. “Alas, one of my men got sick, and I had to leave him at Meridae. The assignment I’m on shouldn’t be more than a week. I know that’ll leave you shorthanded, but -”
“It’s no problem!” Thornfield said, interrupting. Suddenly all the nervousness he had been showing evaporated. His smile grew large and toothy. “Take him! Take him for as long as you need! I’ll make due. After all, I held down the station for six months before he got here.” The bell announcing the next carriage sounded. Thornfield jumped out of his chair. “I’ll go get that! Be right back!” And he barrelled out of the door.
Umber looked at the door, rather amazed by the last few minutes. He drew a deep breath, then turned to look at Byrony, his face moving back and forth between amazement and shock. “You...you really want me to go with you, Sir?”
Byrony gave the young dragonkin a kind smile. “I do indeed. I know I would have jumped at the chance when I was in my first year. First years are...”
“Where the DIC weeds out those who really want to be inspectors from those who only think they do,” Umber said.
“Quoting the manual at me?” Byrony chuckled. “Which are you, son?”
“Being an inspector was all I ever wanted to be, sir,” Umber said, lifting his head up high.
“Your father would be proud,” the older Dragonkin said. “Go pack your things. Sooner we can get out of here, the better. Let Thornfield go back to his novels and his feet on the desk.”
Umber looked at him, surprised. “You knew he did that?”
“The DIC never stops investigating, Umber. Even sometimes, our own people. Now go on, and learn there’s more to the DIC than checking papers and collecting transport fees.”
“Yes sir!” Umber said, and hurried to get his things.
While Umber was hurrying to pack, Thornhill grabbed the clipboard for the carriage arrival and went to meet the incoming carriage. “Thank goodness for real work,” Thornfield said, as he went to receiving area and as far away from Gabbro’s people as he could go.
The carriage was the daily transport from Waterford on Glint, a local. As the porters brought out the express merchandise, not a lot, just some goods for the local bookseller and a case of speciality foodstuffs for the grocer, he marked their paperwork done. Then the passengers trickled out – a woman wearing the uniform of the Alder Branches, with hood pulled up over her face. Her paperwork stated she was here to teach at the local school. The next was a travelling vendor wheeling out a massive case, who hoped to sell goods to the local shopkeepers before heading down the King’s Highway to sell to the various villages on this side of Cullin’s Forest, and one last passenger, with a Spriggan porter behind her, carrying a large trunk.
“Lady Allyns,” Thornfield said, bowing a little. “I thought you just returned to the White Island. You’re back already?”
Arriane gave him a polite, if not warm smile, and nodded, looking around the room for someone she didn’t see. “I went back, and my school decided to send me right back to do some research.” She chuckled a little, bringing her hand to her face, covering her lips. As a sound, it didn’t have much warmth.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Lady? Hire you a carriage, send a message to your sister?” he asked.
“No, no,” Arriane said. “I’m sure my sister’s carriage is out there waiting for me. I don’t see the other person, Umber, out here today? I was hoping to say hello to him.”
“Ah, I’m afraid he’s a bit busy right now, Lady,” Thornfield said. “One of our supervisors came by, and he’s ‘borrowing’ him for a few days on a special assignment.”
“Oh,” Arriane said. “If you see him before I do, tell him I said hello.” She motioned to the porter carrying her trunk, and together, the two headed to the front of the building.
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Sael Havron looked at the group of men in front of him, examining each and every face. Eighteen of them, they were not dressed in the typical uniforms of the King’s Guard. Instead, they wore clothes typical of the various races and clans of Ynys Afel, robes and tunics and cloaks, each carrying a sword at the hip, knives on the belt, and a few had bows. Each of them wore an elaborate gauntlet on their left hand, studded with a series of stones. The effect was at once casual and threatening, like a gang of mercenaries or smugglers, instead of the group of highly trained, disciplined troops in the Redsticks way of training that they had arrived here as.
At a signal from Gweir Blackthorn, their captain, they fell into ranks, and a ghost of their old training snapped them back into place.
“You chose well, Gweir,” Sael said. “It’s not every bunch of recruits that the Birch can get away from the Hawk that can handle the training we do with such a high success rate. Learning to use the gauntlet without frying your mind or hurting the people on your team takes a certain discipline, and you only lost two who weren’t up to the challenge.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gweir said, nodding. “It was a shame about Rictor and Garin, though.”
“They’ll do fine in their new assignments. Still working for the Birch. Not everybody has to be out in the field to make a difference.” He gave an encouraging pat to Gweir on the shoulder. “Now comes the real test. We’re going to put our training to use,” Sael said. “I received a message from the Birch. We’ve got an assignment.”
“Good,” Gweir said. “We’re ready.”
“I know it,” said Sael. He stepped forward and addressed the men in front of him.
“You have all done well, men. And tomorrow, we’re going to put all that hard work to use.” He gave a grin, a rather hungry, wicked look. “The Birch has a job for us! Are you ready to show me what you can do?”
A loud “Yes sir!” ran through the squad.
“Today, get your things together. Relax. At dawn, we’re heading out.”
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Totally unaware of the activity about to sweep up Elaine’s husband Gweir, or the fact that the White Circle were wondering if she had a role to play in the upcoming events and had sent Arriane home to keep a watch over her, Gan only knew that she missed her pixies.
It had been four days since the Pixies had dashed off, and even with the bright and repaired condition of her house and gardens and barn, Gan was lonely for her little friends.
She thought Arne would be the first back, having something of a reputation for bravery in the little pixie clan, and she had been outlook for him. She baked apple pie and left it on the windowsill to cool, and made a delicious stew of cabbage and bacon and beans and onions, letting it cook on the outside fire to tempt them back, and baked a great loaf of white bread, a smell pixies f ound almost irresist i ble, but instead of being mobbed by the wee folk, the only one who showed up at first was Gilly.
“Pie?” asked the tiny woman hovering near where it was cooling.
“Oh yes, and bread, too, and stew.” Gan took the lid off the pot and gave it a good stir, letting the good smell of her food waft in the air.
“That smells so good. I haven’t had a good meal since the big meanies came in with all that nasty stuff.”
“Well they’re good and gone. No more Ixip. I told Lady Elaine that,” Gan replied. “Where are the rest of the pixies? Are they coming back?” she said, dishing some of the stew in a saucer for the pixie.
“Well, Moxie is waiting until the very last bits of that nasty stuff get out of the air,” Gilly said. “She’s a little afraid it’ll make her sick. And Arne went over to Redrock, you know where there’s that spring next to the big red rock on the road to Goblin Market.” She ate a bit of bread crust, then used it as a spoon to eat a bite of stew. Talking in a conspiratorial whisper to the big woman, she said, “There’s another clan of pixies over there, who live next to the rock. I think Arne has a girlfriend over there. He’s always finding an excuse to go over there. Moxie’s going to be so angry when she finds out.”
“Find out what?” Another pixie, Fergus, no doubt following the scent, dropped in, landing on the table. “My, my, that looks good. Bread and soup?”
Mistress Gan handed him a bit of bread, and he sat down next to Gilly.
“Wouldn’t you like to know about Arne’s new girlfriend by Redrock!” Gilly said, then realizing what she said, clasped a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say that?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gan said.
“Tell me all about it,” said an enraged Moxie dropped down from a nearby tree. “Tell me all about it.”
A s if they heard the noise, Rufus and Dahlia, Rosebud and Bu, Hilby and Cowslip and more popped in, relishing both the bread and the gossip, making Moxie even madder. Poor Arne, when he finally made an appearance was summarily pushed off the table by Moxie. He landed in Mistress Gan’s lap.
“What...what did I do?” he asked.
Gan handed him a piece of bread. “Got here after the rumors,” she said.
Standing up, Gan got some more saucers out of the house and began dipping up soup for all of them. “Ah, my little pixies,” she said. “I have truly missed you. Things are always more interesting when you’re around.”