Chapter 25
Once upon a time, there were two sisters. One was golden like the sun, the other had midnight curls. One day the golden child saw a bit of flame that seemed to burn on a piece of rock. Intrigued, she went up to the flame and warmed her hands in its warmth. Suddenly, the flame moved, changed shape, and turned into the form of a girl with flame red hair, wreathed in a dress of silver gray fabric that looked like smoke. They became best friends.
Many years later, the golden girl, grown into a bright woman, said goodbye to her mother who flew off to be with the Lifegiver at the very top of the world tree. Her sister grew angry when the elders chose the golden girl to sit in her mother’s chair. Spinning a deep magic, the dark sister caused the very house the golden one and killed her. Soon she was running across the land, spreading shadow and demanding all worship her.
Remembering her dear friend, the woman of fire and smoke took her golden friend’s children and hid them from the dark woman. Pleading to the Lifegiver, she was given a great and dangerous weapon to save the people who loved the light and the Lifegiver. After many hard times, she finally used it, and the great boundary arose that separated the people of the Shadow from the people of the light. This was very painful for the woman of fire and smoke, and for centuries, nobody could find her, not even the children of her friend. But in her dreams, the Golden Child and the Child of Flame and Smoke ran through the woods of the First Days until it was time for her to wake up.
Small Tales of the Past for Young Minds – Sharai Bluebottle of the Alder Branches
On the White Island, the Oldest strolled through the garden in a small house near the sea coast. She passed out of the garden gate and began to wander towards the sound of the ocean. The path wound through a stand of trees, bent by long exposure to the coastal wind, looking like hunched over guardians protecting the island until the ground gave way to a view of the ocean. The day was getting late; she felt the chill of it as she looked toward the sea, at the waves crashing into the rocks at the foot of the cliff this house was built on, the cliff and the rock at the bottom both dark and brooding in the afternoon light.
“What are you bringing me today?” she asked the air. “There are so many strings at play, Lifegiver. Take what the Dragonkin are doing.” The only response was the mournful call of a seabird who had flown up and circled overhead, hoping perhaps to find that the person had dropped some food.
As if reading its mind, the Oldest threw out a piece of bread she had in her pocket, far enough away from her that the bird could feel safe about landing. In a flash of white, it circled around and landed, examining the offering carefully before swooping it up and flying a bit away to eat it.
A thin smile touched her face as she drew a connection to the thing most on her mind and what the bird did. “Tossing me out bait, is that what you’re doing, Master Grimsbeard?” she asked. She tossed another piece out, and watched the bird retrieve it. “Sending your master investigator to me with such an interesting offer! Things must be bad in Willowick indeed if you’re trying to enlist Ynys Afel and the White Circle in your political games. Dragonkin are always so determined to police their own. That means, at least, they don’t know where the threat is coming from, or it’s more than they think they can handle. But with Gandaran moving, the perceived threat must be deep. That old dragon put deep wards over his people to keep them from self-destruction.” She threw the last piece of bread out.
A gust of wind tugged at her she pulled her shawl closer. “It would be easier if they’d just tell us what the problem is, and set us loose. Dragonkin politics are worse than the games nobles play at the Bear’s court. And unlike the court ballet, which mostly affects the noble houses, the whole land depends on the Dragon Web. I guess we’ll take their bait and see where this leads.”
She turned back walk up the path to the small, white house. When she was about halfway there, Ethne her secretary met her. In his hands was a warm cloak.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Memory. I remember how chill it gets here, even in high summer,” the man said, holding the cloak open so she could slip into it. “And we’re nowhere near summer yet.”
“True,” the Oldest said, smoothing the warm folds of wool around her.
“And,” Ethne said, “Your guest has arrived.”
The Oldest tilted her head. “Am I that late?”
“Not at all.”
The two of them began walking again.
“Lord Bedwyr seems in a dark mood,” Ethne said. “I think he may have received some news he didn’t like before arriving.”
“Or maybe he just lost again to the Hawk before coming here,” the Oldest said, shrugging. “They spar often, and Hawk is the better swordsman.”
“Ah,” Ethne said, nodding. “I have noticed that for companions, they do seem to like to challenge each other.”
They had almost passed through the stand of trees. A squirrel crossing the path, saw them, and ran up one of the last, and began barking at them.
The Oldest looked up and smiled at the creature, then reached into her pocket to see if she had any treat left, but her pocket was empty. “Sorry, friend squirrel. Perhaps next time.”
The squirrel flicked its tale, almost as if in acknowledgment, and the two continued on, exiting the woods. From where they stood, the garden wall, and the upper floor of the house were clearly visible.
“Still, no matter what may have triggered his mood or not, the Birch always seems to be in a dark mood to those who don’t really know how to read him,” the Oldest said as they neared the garden gate. “Of all my students back in the early days after the Sundering, he was the most serious. The Hawk was the most athletic, the Bear always strove to find balance and answers. Even Cullin, with all his mental overload and trauma would smile more easily.”
Ethne hurried to open the garden gate, and the two of them stepped into the garden, just starting to show its green promise for the year.
“I don’t think much has changed, then,” Ethne said. “Although I don’t know about Cullin. I hear they have to remind him that the King’s Highway is open to all travelers even if goes through his forest.”
“Ah, I’ve heard about that. It’s been a long time since I’ve visited there. Perhaps one day, if we can figure out what’s going on with the Dragonkin and whatever’s going on with the Shadowlands and the Border,” the Oldest said, “I’ll have time to pay him a visit. Still, at least that’s one corner of the world I’m least worried about for the moment.”
“It’s nice to have somewhere,” Ethne said, nodding.
“Well let’s go see if we can get today’s meeting done,” the Oldest said. “The sooner we get this particular story over with, the sooner we can say ‘Happily ever after.’”
“Until the next story erupts,” Ethne said, opening the door to the house. He stood by the side waiting for her to step through.
“A never-ending story book, our life, eh?” the Oldest said, and walked into the house.
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As late afternoon light filtered through the window, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway outside of Violetta’s room. She lay back down while listening, and pulled the covers back over her while listening, in case she had a visitor and they would catch her sitting there in her night dress. The footsteps stopped in front of her door, and soft words were exchanged, but too faint for her to make out.
Remembering the Called’s promise to send Xhindi in, for some reason, Violetta suddenly felt nervous. The voices finished, and then lighter footsteps moved away from the door. “Here we go,” she whispered.
There was a gentle knock on her door.
Violetta swallowed. “Come in,” she finally said.
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The door swung open, and a solemn faced Xhindi stood in the doorway. Even as sick as she had been and as weak as she was now, she was able to see something weighing him down. He had always seemed almost a flame ready to burst into action, whether in joke or running from danger, but now he seemed almost cold, like a burned out ash. This impression was made stronger by the dark robes he wore instead of his usual white.
“The Called told me you were up,” he said, softly. His voice, though, was as warm as ever.
“I am,” she replied, giving him a small smile. “The Called also told me that if she didn’t tell you I was, you would be here tearing the door down.”
He looked a little sheepish and dropped his eyes to the floor. “I don’t think I’d go quite that far,” he said. “The Called would never let me live that particular one down.” In spite of himself, he smiled a little. “The Called One here is the daughter of my father. Soon, my whole clan would know. And they would all let me know what a fool I was.”
Some of his spirit percolated back up as they talked. This encouraged Violetta to continue.
“And that you had been here watching with her the entire time I was...recovering.” She gave him a probing look. “I was surprised you hadn’t gone on. Didn’t you have something to do at Aufzee’s Freehold?”
“I do,” he said nodding. “But it will wait.” There were a few chairs in the room. He took one, moved it not too far from Violetta’s bed. “My first duty this trip is to you, to get you safely through the desert and back to your people. That was our agreement. Instead I let you come near death.” He looked her in the eyes, and she could see the darkness touch him again. “How could I leave?”
“The spider was not your fault,” she said, softly, surprised at how he was blaming himself. “And you brought me somewhere I could be healed.”
“So many things have been going on that I should have been aware of before we started this trek.”
“Are you talking about the two men who were killed before we got to Xendo’s Freehold?”
“They were a part of it, yes.” Xhindi sighed. “We will talk more of it when you are stronger. There are things I need to make clear, before we continue.”
“Now you have me intrigued,” Violetta said. “I went to retrieve a friend’s item, and look what’s happened! I don’t even know where I’m at, and you add to the mystery.” She sucked on her bottom lip, almost a pout.
“All in good time, Violetta Greenleaf.” The Called, evidently who had been at the door for a moment, walked in, followed by another woman carrying a tray with covered dishes smelling of food. “First, let us try to get some food into you, so you can recover enough to find out.”
Violetta looked at Xhindi, and then his sister, and for some reason, she laughed.
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There was a room in the Oldest’s seaside house that held a large round table. It could seat perhaps 12 people easily, dominating a room that was otherwise a simple room with dragonfire lamps from the ceiling supplementing the light from outside, and plain white walls, a room designed to offer minimal distractions. The only other furnishings besides the table and chairs was one long sideboard. Often it was filled with tea things and flowers. Currently it was bare.
Only one person sat at the table.
“What are you doing, Redbeard?” Bedwyr muttered as he looked through the papers he had brought with him. “Something going on at Tantis? That’s in your own back yard. Your mother’s people come from there.” He looked up and stared out of the window at the fading light of the day, almost full sunset. “Halfway between Greshold’s Keep and Brightwater, and a nest of smuggling vipers if I ever saw one, and the last time I was there, every one was tied to the Redbeard apron. There was nothing more dangerous than being a freelance smuggler there. Even being caught by the dogheads or the trows was better.” He sighed. “New competition? Are you losing control, old bastard?”
He sighed deeply. “If you are, so much work to be done. Another group to co-opt to keep the balance between Shadow and Sunlight. More people in the field.” He rubbed his temples, like he had a headache coming on, then glanced through his other papers.
“How did we miss the little fires starting to burn everywhere? Missing researchers. The explosion of Dreamdust being smuggled. New smugglers. Escalation in Shadowland attacks at Greshold’s. Unexplicable murders that seem to be done to discredit Dragonkin companies. Untraceable jumpstones. Fires everywhere.”
“Fires everywhere,” said a voice behind him. “The question is do we have a single arsonist directing it all, or is it just coincidence.”
Bedwyr turned around and saw the Oldest walking into the room, followed by Ethne carrying a tray. The Oldest’s secretary revealed a carafe of wine, and a tray of savories. Steam rose up off of them, and they let out a delicious smell.
“I’ll leave you to your discussion,” Ethne said, and then gracefully walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.
The Oldest walked over to the cabinet, opened one of its doors, and took out two wine glasses. “I thought we might want something stronger than tea this evening.”
Bedwyr nodded as she poured, and accepted a glass from her hand. “Arsonist or coincidence?”
She moved to her chair, tall backed, heavily carved, and marked with the sigil of the White Circle. Seating herself, she took a sip of wine, and stared out at the gathering gloom through the window. “Queen Aife has never given up her ambitions to rule the whole of An Lar. She might give lip service to the pact we made, but…”
The old warrior took a sip of his wine. “But?”
“She almost destroyed the whole world, Birch. You weren’t here yet. You didn’t see it. She killed her sister, my mother. She so wanted the Queenship after my grandmother decided to return to the Lifegiver. If the Lady of Smoke and Fire hadn’t used that awful device to set up the Boundary, who knows what would have happened? We were so close to losing everything when she got it to work. And it took a long, hard time to recover from the Sundering. So much was lost and destroyed. So much poisoned. I’m sure it was the same over in the Shadow Lands. It’s hard for me sometimes in dealing with them. Am I acting in the best interests of An Lar, of Ynys Afel, or am I still reacting to her betrayal, and my anger and desire for vengeance? I don’t know if I have yet let that white hot hurt totally go. It makes me cautious sometimes, maybe too cautious.”
“The land is prosperous and at peace. I think you’ve done well over the years,” Bedwyr said. “I don’t think you’re acting too cautious.”
She sighed. “Usually. Except when I am.” She got up and walked over to the cabinet, retrieved a plate, and chose several things off the heated plate. “Remember the Brightwater massacre. We could have put more troops there. But we waited too long.”
“Some of that was the Bear’s and the Hawk’s fault.” Bedwyr saw what was on the Oldest’s plate and got up and helped himself.
“But all three of you were young at this thing. I should have overruled you and your brothers.”
He popped one of the savories in his mouth. This was not the first time the two of them had had this discussion. “You bring this up every time you are nervous about something, Queen Sulis.”
She turned sharply at him when he called her that name. “Queen Sulis is no more, and you know it.”
“If you were not still taking on the responsibility, perhaps I would agree, Lady. So let’s go over what is making you fret.”
“Is that what I am doing? Or is it just cursing at the not knowing?” she played with one of her savories, and then ate it.
“Maybe both. Let’s go over it piece by piece, like you taught me when I was still shorter than this table.”
She gave him a wan little smile. “You’re right. Let’s begin.”
Bedwyr took out a pencil stub and a small tablet he carried in his jacket. “Let’s begin.”
She nodded, and picked up her wine glass. Instead of sipping, she just stared into empty space. “As usual we need answers. Questions we have in plenty. One, what is going on in the Shadowlands? Is a new leader rising up among the Dogheads? Most of the contact we’ve had at Greshold’s Keep and with the smuggling groups we’ve intercepted have been with Doghead groups and their allies.”
“Or Lady Bercha has a new advisor. Her Wild Hunt has usually used the Dogheads as their shock troops,” Bedwyr noted.
“And finding that answer will either come from your people, or maybe Redbeard,” the Oldest said.
“I’ll have to get more people in the field,” he replied. “Maybe the Birch’s agents are too well known.”
“Then you’ll need fresh blood.” The Oldest looked thoughtful. “It’s possible I could loan you a squad, but remember, my people aren’t trained to do double duty as combat forces. You’ll have to use them wisely.”
Bedwyr nodded.
“Whoever it is doesn’t understand the functional reason why we allow smuggling to happen in the first place. Or doesn’t care about the balance between Sunlit and Shadow.”
“Or both.” The Birch made a note on his tablet.
“Or doesn’t care about the profit. So we can’t rule out that this is happening from the higher levels, maybe the Tower of Ru itself. I need you to tell me if Aife is involved. I don’t want to be the one that thinks this comes from my Aunt. I’m too biased.” The Oldest got up and got the carafe off of the cabinet.
Bedwyr scratched the back of his head as he thought, then looked up and met the Oldest’s eyes as a thought came to him. “We might be looking at this wrong. Redbeard seems to be having his hands full with well supplied smugglers not under his thumb. Maybe it’s not the Shadowlands pushing this. Some renegade house trying to take over from Brightwater? Someone, possibly, who isn’t even aware of the complications they’re causing?”
“That’s not impossible. We’ll want to lend Redbeard enough support to keep him in control. And our channels open. Although, if there’s going to be another power broker, we need to establish a working relationship with them as well.”
“Already looking into it, a little,” Bedwyr said.
“Other things disturb me, though,” The Oldest said. “We have confirmed that the Dragonkin leadership believes their Gandaran moved in his magical sleep, and every time that has happened in the past, it meant someone, some faction is trying to disturb their own power balance. The old Dragon laid some powerful magics over himself and his people before he went to his rest. I have no doubt the Dragonkin believe these signs, and I have no real reason to believe the beliefs are just superstitions. I once was invited to the place he rests. The waves of magic energy coming off of him is amazing.”
Bedwyr nodded. “If only they would be more open about things.”
“They’ll never do that,” the Oldest said. She rested her hands on the arms of her chair. “Not fully. We can work in parallel as allies sometimes, but that is as close as it gets. Still they’re dogged about weeding out their own malefactors.”
“The ‘we never stop investigating’ business?” Bedwyr tilted his head. “I wonder about that sometimes. I mean, the business with the disappearing no space researchers has been going on a long time.”
“I have a hunch about that. If we could find out what’s the source of that, we might find the start of their current discomfort.” She shrugged. “But there seem to be attacks on multiple fronts, not just one sector trying to take out another. The Master Investigator stopped by recently and asked us to join him in an operation on Tantis. I’m pretty sure it’s bait to give us something good to help them with their problems.”
That caught Bedwyr off guard. “Tantis?”
“You seem surprised, Birch,” the Oldest said, studying his face.
“Just today I got word from Jared Redbeard about problems in Tantis.”
The Oldest raised an eyebrow, and steepled her fingertips. “Well then. Tomorrow get a squad together, and head down there. Gabbro Byrony will be waiting for you in the Tantis DIC office. Let’s see what the Dragonkin are offering for our help.”