Reality’s Plaything Book 3: Eternal’s Agenda

By Will Greenway

Writers Exchange E-Publishing

http://www.writers-exchange.com
http://www.readerseden.com

Reality’s Plaything Book 3: Eternal’s Agenda
Copyright 2007 Will Greenway
Writers Exchange E-Publishing
PO Box 372
ATHERTON QLD 4883
AUSTRALIA

Cover design by: Will Greenway

Published Online by Writers Exchange E-Publishing
http://www.writers-exchange.com
http://www.readerseden.com

ISBN 9781921314308

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedication
A Word (or two) About Mythology
Other books in the chronicles of the Ring Realms

Chapter One A Distant Rumble
Chapter Two Subtle Confrontations
Chapter Three Called to Heel
Chapter Four Subject Matter Specialists
Chapter Five The Supreme Magestrix
Chapter Six Traces in the Void
Chapter Seven Precursor
Chapter Eight Ghosts
Chapter Nine Ring
Chapter Ten Mock Battle
Chapter Eleven Paranoia
Chapter Twelve Gathering of Heroes
Chapter Thirteen Hunting a Conspiracy
Chapter Fourteen Möbius Reality
Chapter Fifteen Ramifications
Chapter Sixteen Mirror Prodigal
Chapter Seventeen Unlikely Teachers
Chapter Eighteen Complications
Chapter Nineteen Knowledge and Intent
Chapter Twenty Royal Lunch
Chapter Twenty-One Meet the Healer
Chapter Twenty-Two Painful Education
Chapter Twenty-Three Party Crashers
Chapter Twenty-Four Clash

Glossary of Term
About The Author

Dedication

^ »

To the unsung heroes of the creative world: comic creators. My hat is off to the page and cover artists who sweat blood for their craft and work a magic all their own. Not to snub anyone, comics wouldn’t exist without the writers who provide the narrative and dialogue. Word-smithing has its challenges, but it is a chimera of an all-too-different color from truly skilled and inspired hero art. So, a sweeping bow to those artists who inspired me in my childhood, and made me struggle to bring involving and engaging written life to the “super” heroes (and villains) of the Ring Realms. ‘Nuff said?

A Word (or two) About Mythology

« ^ »

Welcome to the Ring Realms universe, a cosmology populated by magic, technology, gods, goddesses, and multi-verses. Comic fans will feel right at home, but fandom is not necessary to be drawn into the world’s magic and heroism. Those learned in mythology may see a name (or a score of them) that they recognize. Intentional. In fact, I’ve taken heat for not creating my own gods and goddesses. Key to the point is they ARE my gods and goddesses, and you the reader’s as well. I wanted something familiar to the readership rather than add EVEN MORE bizarre names to the milieu—something that is one of the all-too-common pitfalls of fantasy writing. If you see a name you recognize, rejoice in that knowledge because where possible I have tried to keep to the spirit of those myths whilst incorporating them into a much larger cosmology. Notice, I say ‘spirit of’—please don’t flagellate me (however much I might enjoy it) for not adhering more closely to the source myths. Liberal dramatic license has been taken in order to heighten and enrich the story… Enjoy.

Other books in the chronicles of the Ring Realms

« ^ »

Reality’s Plaything Series—Tales following the adventures of Bannor Starfist.

Reality’s Plaything
‘Neath Odin’s Eye
Gaea’s Legacy: Eternal’s Agenda
Gaea’s Legacy: Savants Ascendant
Gaea’s Legacy: Infinity Annihilator

Savant’s Blood Series—Tales following the adventures of Wren Kergatha.

Savant’s Blood: Shadows of the Avatar
Savant’s Blood: Hecate’s Bounty
Aesir’s Blood
Gaea’s Blood

Shaladen Chronicles Series—Tales following the adventures of Corim Vale.

Shaladen Chronicles: A Knot In Time
Shaladen Chronicles: Anvil of Sorrow
Shaladen Chronicles: Who Mourns the Creator

Chapter One
A Distant Rumble

« ^ »

Magic is the life-blood of mages and the never-ending fascination of elves. A wilder mage is one who is born with a physical affinity for magic and energy that allows them to wield spells of amazing power. Wilders are subjects of scrutiny, envy, and terror. Through training and discipline there is little magical that is beyond their grasp. It is unfortunate that the power often makes for an isolated existence. Most of my life I have been a source of apprehension and tension, my own mother and members of my family often flinched at my touch—fearing the accidental release of my power. It is something I will always regret.
—Kalindinai T’Evagduran,
High Queen of Malan

Bannor Starfist crept up and hid in the shadow of a tree, watching for any members of the royal guard who might be patrolling southern perimeter of Green Run. He swallowed, looking up into the shifting foliage, watching the leaves of the giant scalebark shimmering and rustling in the breeze. Running a hand through his dark hair, he glanced back to the rosewood walls of the outbuilding that formed the first of several tiers that made up the eastern portion of the Malanian citadel. Wisps of mist still trickled the down tree-shrouded hill, filtering through the rings of buildings and lance-like minarets interconnected by a web of narrow walkways and flying buttresses threaded amongst the ancient evergreens.

Drawing a breath, Bannor scanned the gates and paths. No one was coming up behind him. He turned his attention back to the maze of trelliswork that formed the gateway to the Queen’s contemplation grove, a collection of rock mosaics, outdoor atriums, and flower gardens. Few save the queen and her closest family entered this place, making it an excellent spot to hide out.

With a final guilty scan to make sure he wasn’t observed, he leaped up grabbed the top edge of the gate, swung over, and dropped on the far side. His heels hit the packed turf with a thud that sent a twinge of pain shooting up his back. Clutching his side, he leaned against the hedge with teeth gritted against the discomfort. The wound from being impaled on Odin’s spear had been slow to heal. It might be three or four tendays yet before he regained full mobility.

After the agony subsided, he pressed on, taking rights and lefts through the sculpted garden. He breathed in the sweet aroma of flowers, spice vines, and incense trees. No matter how many times he walked through this place, the artistry never ceased to amaze him. So much time, heart, and thought had been put into each tiny arrangement of stone, in every statue and bit of foliage. As a ranger for the Barony of Tenax, he had seen many a natural vista that made his stomach tighten with its beauty; soaring mountain peaks, placid lakes, and lush faerie glades. This place was living art made possible by the incredible patience and creativity of Elven artisans, a symmetry of colors, shapes, textures, and smells that soothed the senses of the observer.

Serenity.

Lords how he needed it. The wedding preparations, the constant push-pull between the royals and gentry, all of it just sucked the strength out of him. He’d rather fight a dozen demons than endure those demeaning dinners on display for the gentry. The patronizing tones they used, the thinly veiled sarcasm and references to uncivilized humans. It made him want to break their heads. Did those fops think him totally stupid?

Bannor stumbled to a stop, feeling an ache behind his left ear. Wincing, he pressed his hand to the spot and staggered back a step. The garden in his view did a slow roll.

Eyes were watching him. He felt their gaze like needles on his skin. A presence, cold and mist-like seemed to billow around him. The threads of thousands, no—millions of life-forces flickered and danced around him like rainbow-hued pin-wheels. He gasped, his heart beginning to pound. What was happening? A roaring filled his ears like the crashing of waves on a rocky shore. His view of the garden flashed, every leaf, branch, and stone suddenly transparent like glass. A pale green light, soft and unfocused back-lit the spectral surroundings.

Creation. The word suddenly rang through his body and mind, a resonance that made his bones tremble. Annihilation. Perpetuity… The voice trailed off. A brilliant red flash lit up everything around Bannor, forcing him to shield his eyes. There was a blare of raw noise that thrummed and went silent.

Reeling from the barrage of sensory images, breathing hard, he fell against the trelliswork gripping it with trembling hands to keep himself from falling.

Birds chirped. The breeze hummed. Off in the distance, a bell rang.

Blinking, he looked around, taking forced breaths. Everything looked the same. Not a single thread of magic lingered in the air to suggest what he had just experienced. Creation? What was that all about? He swallowed and shook his head. He gritted his teeth. Things were bad enough with the wedding and adapting to the new routine here in Malan. He certainly didn’t need strange experiences like that to add to it!

He pushed himself upright and stood wavering and unsteady. It took a few moments to be sure of his balance. Such miserable timing. He didn’t need more grief. Drawing a breath, he calmed himself. He followed the sound of water gurgling over rocks that indicated the center of the garden. He bent low to duck under the arch of the arbor and brushed aside the vines.

Broad stone cobbles formed a wide hem around a pond fringed with ferns. A small stream bubbled through a tumble of mossy rocks and emptied into the further side. Bent frond trees leaned over this secluded spot, forming pockets of shadow against the sun. Birds flitted through the branches overhead, and stinger-bugs buzzed around the flowers sprinkled around the periphery.

With a sigh, he headed for one of the nearby benches and thumped down on it. He removed his satchel and put it on the stones beside him. Damn, maybe the stress was getting to him. Still, that hadn’t seemed like a hallucination. What else could that be? It made no sense. Was some pantheon lord playing mind games with him? That seemed so far fetched. The Aesir were well satisfied to be rid of him.

He looked up to the sun, feeling its warmth against his cheeks. He shook his head. He needed rest. He needed peace. Pulling his knees up, he put his hands behind his head. Just lying down on a hard rock slab felt good. He didn’t sleep well in the beds the royals used. It was too comfortable. It left him with the irrational fear that he would sleep so deeply that he would fail to hear an enemy creeping up on him.

Bannor let out a breath. He wished a bane on a life and experience that would leave him so knotted up inside that he couldn’t even enjoy a fine bed. A double bane on a wedding ceremony so elaborate that he had to sneak around and hide to have any time to himself. He thought about the lessons he had skipped out on. He was in for scolding for sure. It would be worth it, just to have a few moments peace amidst the chaos that was ‘royal responsibility’.

He pushed the unusual experience to the back of his mind. Listening to the birds chirping, the low sigh of the breeze, and the sway of branches he let himself drift off.

An indeterminate time later a jingling he recognized as tassel bells roused him. It didn’t feel like he had napped long. Bannor frowned. He didn’t think anyone knew that he hid out here. After all, he didn’t have the key, and no-one would have the audacity to enter the queen’s garden without permission. Fear of warding magicks kept most people from even entertaining the thought of entering something belonging to the queen without her permission. Sometimes being the Garmtur had its advantages. Not only could he see the wards, he could slip through them without disruption when he put his mind to it.

He caught a whiff of star-petal perfume and knew who it was. She must be keeping closer watch on him than he thought. Summers of ranger training and experience and he would have sworn no-one saw him. What did it take to get some privacy in this crazy house of elves?

The person stopped over him and let out an exasperated breath.

He was knew that sigh well. It was a good thing he loved the owner of it so much. Without taking his arm from over his face he could see her features clearly, silvery hair framing a narrow face with high cheekbones, glowing violet eyes narrowed in annoyance, small mouth set in a frown. She was big for an elf woman, or a human woman for that matter, almost able to look him in the eye when they stood together. This trait was a lasting side-affect of the magic of the pantheon lords. Once slight of body, she now cut a figure of long sweeping curves. Her once flat stomach was now showing the barest hint of a bulge from the child, his child, that she carried inside her.

She was wearing the tassel-bells that meant she had on some official court regalia. From the swishing sound, probably the lacy gold satin and silk blouse and skirt that she seemed to favor. Lately, she’d taken to wearing white high-heeled boots that made her tower over all the other court people except for her father who was exceptionally tall as elves go.

When she spoke, her voice sounded resigned and only a little annoyed. “My One, what are you doing?”

He drew a breath. “Trying to relax.”

Bannor couldn’t see it, but he sensed her purse her lips and inwardly draw on some resolve. “All right, why are you relaxing? You were supposed to report to the Maestro at the first bell after the noon meal.”

Bannor sighed. “Star, perhaps you hadn’t noticed, but as a musician I make a great carpenter. It’s a waste of time.”

He heard her toe tapping on the flagging. She probably had her arms folded. “The Maestro said you’d made excellent progress.”

“All right, I’ll grant the dogs have stopped howling in agony every time I blow those silly pipes. That’s hardly progress though.”

“They’re not silly, Bannor, it’s part of the ceremony.” Her voice didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as he expected. Was something wrong?

“Star, can’t we do something else? If I try to blow those things in front of ten thousand people, I will embarrass us both.”

“Bannor, you won’t embarrass us if you practice like you should. He can’t do his job if you don’t show up. Hey.” She poked him in the ribs.

“What?” He pulled his arm away from his face, and stared up into Sarai’s always beautiful countenance, even when she was frowning like now. He discovered that his surmises had been correct. Gold blouse and skirt, white boots, staff of state in the crook of her arm. Her cheeks and eyes had been highlighted with make-up, softening the severity of her features.

Sarai pushed her waist-length hair over one shoulder, bent down, took the sides of his face in her palms and kissed him. Her lips were sweet and moist, the remnants of honey-nectar lingering on her breath. “I love you.”

He swallowed. “I love you too.”

“Over.” Sarai swung his feet off the bench and sat down heavily. She leaned forward, drew a breath, and rubbed her eyes with a weary moan.

Bannor put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. Sarai relaxed against him and lolled her head against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He reached down and brushed his fingers across her abdomen. With his Garmtur sight, he looked into her body and the ever-more-complex whirl of magic and life that was their child. She wasn’t even born yet and she was beautiful.

Sarai looked down and put her hand over his. “We’re fine. I’m just tired.” She let the ivory staff-of-state fall to ground with a clunk. She drew a few breaths. “Mmmm, the sun feels good.”

“I thought so too.” He debated whether to tell her about the strange vision he’d experienced. No. She was already half crazy with worry over a thousand other things. That would just add to it. It probably wouldn’t happen again anyway.

Decision made, he scooted around to sit behind her, and massaged her tight shoulders. Sarai’s whole body felt stiff and tight. It had been a rough morning for her apparently.

“Oooh…ahhh,” she sagged back against his pressing hands. “Don’t think for a moment—mmmm…that—” She caught her breath. “That—nngh—you can get out of this. You’re still in—in trouble.”

“Yes, Dear,” he said dutifully, searching out the tight muscles and loosening them with a steady rhythm. “You know I do have some advice.”

“Advice?” She let out a weak laugh. “Okay.” She moaned and pushed back against his fingers. “Oh that feels good, where did you learn to do that?”

“Your sister taught it to me.” He grinned. “Said to use it when you were being difficult.”

“Hmph,” she grunted. She did not, however, ask him to stop. “So—this advice?”

“You’re a princess for light’s sake. You must have a hundred subordinates. Delegate.”

She reached up and touched one of his hands. “My One, I am delegating.”

“I must see you do a dozen trivial errands a day.”

She sighed. “For every errand I do, there are ten others being done by my maids and stewards. There’s a lot to do. Not all of it is the wedding. You must know the mess that Hecate’s forces made in the south. There’s reparations and all manner of details. Four fifths of the royal family simply disappeared. The people need some reassurance after all that’s happened.”

He nodded. “I know. I’ve been going on my share of reassurance missions. I’m glad your father knows me well enough to keep it to the ranger corps and border guards. I don’t mix well with merchants and nobles.”

She turned in his grip, leaned into him, and gave him another warm kiss. “You’ll have to learn eventually, my One. Not so long from now you’re going to be a Prince Conjugal of Malan. That felt marvelous, I think I can get through the rest of the day.” She hesitantly disentangled herself from him and picked up her staff. She started patting her hair and garments into place.

A prince. He would never get used to the idea. It simply didn’t fit his image of himself. He’d always seen himself as a simple man of simple means. Of course, that was before the garmtur changed his life. As he stared into Sarai’s glowing violet eyes he knew that as much as the nola power had changed him, his love for this sometimes surly, always passionate, royal lady had affected him far more profoundly.

He rose and gave her a hug. “There was something else you wanted to tell me, right? It wasn’t just the Maestro.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. Her smile faded. “It’s Daena.”

“Daena?” His brow furrowed. “Everything I’ve heard is what a model court lady she has become.”

Sarai pursed her lips. “Oh, to be sure, my sister is a superb coach and Daena is a brilliant girl. Their behavior has been exemplary, which is exactly what made me suspicious.”

Bannor rubbed his forehead. He understood the words, but not what she was getting at. “So?”

“Coormeer. That’s where they decided to misbehave.”

“Coormeer? That’s three hundred leagues away, I see Janai and Daena in court every day, how could they…”

“My One,” she gave his cheek a firm pat. “Think. We found out that Janai has mage training, a fact she had been concealing to get out of doing service in the militia. Daena can teleport. I’m certain of it. If she didn’t already know how, Janai probably taught her. We both know the child’s potential. She only needs to be shown the ways to use it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, them teleporting around certainly isn’t out of the question. I just don’t get the connection. Why, Coormeer? Isn’t that where Lord Duquesne, that fop that gave us so much trouble, came from? I think you’d be happy she was giving them a hard time.”

“Yes, Duquesne was a lord of Coormeer. Our kingdoms are on good terms with each other. In fact, Janai holds the title of Duchess in Coormeer from her marriage to the Duke’s son. She owns a lot of land there.”

“Okay.” He still didn’t get it. Was there something he was missing? “And they’re causing some kind of mischief there? Something you can point to?”

Sarai’s chin dropped and she bit her lip. “Not yet. I have some unconfirmed rumors is all. Things that have come to me through Laramis, you know his family owns a large vineyard there, right?”

“Seems I’ve heard that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” He paused, as the possibilities turned in his head. “You want me to spy on them don’t you? I’m the only one that can track Daena.”

“Darling, ‘spy’ is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as protecting our interests in that region. We wouldn’t want some kind of incident.”

“I still don’t understand why you even care if the two of them take over the place. What does it matter to you?”

“First of all, I think Daena is a dangerous weapon, and I think Janai should be discouraged from using her like a thug to intimidate her enemies. I also don’t think it’s setting a very good example for a young and impressionable girl.”

He frowned. “I agree with you on both points. That’s not the reason you want me to spy on them. You’re just hacked that your sister is off having fun in another kingdom without you.”

“Bannor,” she thumped him in the shoulder, an indignant expression on her face. “It’s not that at all.”

“Did she steal your toys as a child or something? Is that why you’ve always got to uncover and unravel all her little plots? She’s not hurting anyone.”

Sarai raised her finger. “That is where you’re wrong. You are lucky. My sister likes you. You see only the face she shows you. People that get in her way get hurt—a lot. I think it best she be headed off before gets going too fast.”

“Going too fast, what, you think she really is going to try to take over Coormeer?”

Sarai pressed her lips to a line. “She already owns a quarter of the land there anyway. Why not the whole thing?”

“But you don’t know anything!” He thrust his hands into the air. “This is all just guessing.”

She nodded. “That’s why I want you to find out.” She kissed him on the nose. “Please, Darling. If they aren’t doing anything, then you were just checking up on them, right? No harm done.”

“No harm done,” he echoed. Bannor felt his stomach twist. “I suppose… On one condition though.”

“What’s that?”

“You come back to the chambers early tonight, and we eat a nice quiet meal together. I want it to be just you and me. No guests, no servants, just us and the fire. I miss you.”

She leaned on her staff and pushed out her lower lip. After a moment, she smiled. “Done. Six bells in our bed chambers.” She hopped up and kissed him on the nose. “Now, I have to fly to get everything done early.” She rushed off. “Bye.”

“Bye.” His voice trailed off as he watched her sway down the garden path. Why did he think this wouldn’t come out the way either of them expected?

Chapter Two
Subtle Confrontations

« ^ »

Savants? Yeah, I met some of them. Some tough customers, I only had to cross swords with a couple. It was too bad for them they were swinging for the wrong reasons. My job is to put a stop to bad guys; man, woman, god or savant—it’s all the same. If you break the laws of the Protectorate and Koass gives the thumbs down, you’n me will be havin a little chat. I only ask for your surrender once. After that—well, let’s just say our encounter gets less pleasant from there…
—Talorin “Tal” Falor, Beta Class Protectorate Enforcer

Mind swimming, Bannor left the Queen’s garden. Spy on Daena and Janai; sure he could do it. It wouldn’t be difficult at all. In the time since the war in Asgard, he’d practiced extensively with astral projection. He’d progressed to the point that he could even keep his physical body animate, and carry on a simple, if halting, conversation. It took ultimate concentration to be able to see and process information from two different locations at once, but it could be done.

He turned the corner and walked up the colonnade, admiring the statuettes, and hanging gardens that filled East sanctum, the ‘river side’ of the Malanian citadel. One thing the Elves always managed to do was make everything beautiful—even simple things. There was always a subtle nuance or sparkle that gave their art a unique and satisfying character. He had walked through East sanctum dozens of times and always marveled. Each time he seemed to find some new bit of sculpture, clever planting or wood-set that he hadn’t noticed before.

He drew of breath of the loamy perfumed air, moist with the spray from miniature waterfalls on either side of the run. Eyes heavy lidded, he relished the sound of gurgling water and the soft ring of wind chimes. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t want to spy on Daena and Janai.

Unlike his wife to be, he really liked Janai. The second princess of Malan had always been good to him. She teased him from time to time, but it wasn’t mean-spirited. He wasn’t totally blind, he knew Sarai spoke the truth when she talked about the older princess having a mean streak. He’d seen it in action on a couple of occasions.

That still left him with choosing a proper course of action. He promised to find out if anything was going on in Coormeer. In his experience, sometimes the simplest plans worked the best.

He’d just ask.

***

He knew that Janai and Daena were often at Hill Court. Janai frequently chaired and adjudicated disputes there for Malan’s southern nobility. By coincidence, that same court looked out over a breathtaking view of the tree-shrouded city and catered some of the best wine and pastries served in the capital. After sampling some of the cook’s wares, it was no surprise to him that the plump princess held all of her negotiations and meetings in the large terraced amphitheatre. She could often be found on the third tier from the top, sipping wine and nibbling on pastries while handling her assigned negotiations and affairs of state.

He climbed the fern encrusted ramp that lead to the lowest level of the stone and wood terracing. He glanced up as a shadow fell over him. Overhead, a hodge-podge of braided tree limbs, silken canopies, carved rock and laced together snapping-slog shells shielded the enclosure from the elements. Though constructed of such diverse elements, the whole structure had a lofty ‘alive’ feel to it that human courts simply couldn’t duplicate.

At the top of the incline, he saluted Miracaar and Domanor, Hill Court’s formal sentries. Dressed in polished gold ring-mail and spotless white tabards, they stood like statues at the entry platform, only their silver eyes moved as they scrutinized the people filing into the court. The stony visages of both elves broke into smiles and they gestured him inside with their spears. While he wasn’t favored among the gentry, he was on good terms with most of the soldiers, guardsman and sentinels. His participation in the war with Hecate was well known, and apparently he’d impressed some of the elves that had been part of Irodee’s border resistance unit. It didn’t hurt being the chosen of princess Sarai who was highly regarded in Malan’s military because she worked her way up through the ranks anonymously.

He stopped by the taller of the two elves and leaned close for him to hear above the hubbub of people talking. “Praetor Domanor, have you seen Arminwen Janai, or her ward Lady Daena?”

The elf nodded. He spoke common with a halting lisp that bespoke rare use. “Two rings before the noon bell both of them were admitted, they have not left by my seeing.”

He thumped the elf on his armored shoulder. “Kala (thanks).”

Domanor nodded.

Bannor hopped up the steps two at a time and took the walkway that circled around Floor Amaggia. The main forum thronged with elves, humans, and dwarves all heatedly involved in negotiations, policymaking, and commerce. Having been a recluse most of his life, Bannor never really grasped the scope of what went on in the capitals of the various kingdoms throughout Sharikaar. After the war in Asgard, the first thing Sarai had done was take him on a tour of the legendary city of her birth. Even score-days later, he was still learning his way through all the merchant venues and the myriad public and private forums. The citadel itself was a labyrinth of halls, courts, and terraces larger than most cities. When first introduced to it all, the immensity and the complexity of it all had been mind-boggling. Even more stunning was the notion that he would be marrying into the ruling family and become involved in the administration and operation of this massive enterprise.

He bowed and nodded to ranking nobility as he crossed the second tier Floor Decongia and ambled up the steps to Floor Milmontage. For the most part, the nobles simply ignored him, though many times he heard some of the younger elf ladies tittering. His grasp of high tongue was still too weak to really understand what they found funny. Something about broad shoulders… How a joke could be had out of that, he didn’t know. Once, he’d repeated back one of the things he’d heard said to Sarai and asked her what it meant. She had simply growled that ‘it wasn’t funny’ and ‘not to repeat it’. In retrospect, he probably should have asked Janai instead. The elder princess didn’t take things quite as seriously as his wife-to-be.

Only a sprinkling of patrons were doing business on Milmontage and the guild-ruled Terrace Jhinkira. At the top of the ramp leading to Terrace Silcommon he caught a whiff of something that made him shudder to a stop. Center-point of the broad forum was a ring of clay ovens, grills, and tapped scale-bark casks that contained some of the finest beverages served in the city.

He inhaled again, filling his nostrils with the rich buttery scent of bread freshly pulled from the kiln. His mouth watered. How could anything smell that good? Velastra the baker was at it again. She was undoubtedly the most dangerous elf ever to wield a recipe. Patrons would half-kill one another in their struggles to snatch the last one of her tongue inspiring confections.

Bannor glanced two levels up to Terrace Illustra, Arminwen Janai’s all-but-owned bastion of comfort and business, then back to the bakery. He took another whiff of sweet smelling air.

The mission could wait a few moments.

He threaded through the score-odd gentry seated and standing, most of whom were enjoying a repast of Velastra’s succulent wares. He stepped down onto the recessed platform and followed it around to the counter where the baker put her creations on display. Practically drooling, he stopped and admired the variety and volume of the baker’s magic. Loaves of different kinds of bread, cakes, tarts, pies, and pastries had been arranged on racks and sheets to tempt the tastes of the patrons of Hill Court. Black hair tied in thick knots willowy Velastra swept about her open-air kitchen, throwing ingredients into pans, stirring pots, and scolding her three assistants.

He felt the pouch on his side, yes, he had coin of the realm—good. For the first couple of moments, he just stood paralyzed in front of the racks feeling and smelling the warm moist air waft over him. He felt his pouch again. He hoped he had enough money.

As he started fumbling coins out of the pouch to make a purchase, he realized that he’d been standing next to someone who was obviously enjoying the smells just as much or more than him.

“Wren! Hey, I didn’t see you there. It’s been quite a while I haven’t seen you around.”

The blonde savant blinked and looked over. Dressed in a purple silk blouse and skirt, the woman could have been confused with many of the other nobles in the court, that is if you could ignore the knives sheathed on her legs and the thin stilettos used to fasten her golden hair. The score-days since the war had been good for Wren. She’d put on weight and the lines of her face had softened considerably. The gleam in her ghostly-blue eyes was sharper than ever, and a disarming smile now seemed to be her weapon of choice.

Wren sighed. “Bannor! Hello! Yes, I’ve been kind of hiding.”

“Hiding?” He frowned. “From whom? Did you do something wrong?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I didn’t break a law or anything. No, I did something that really upset a friend—and I’m kind of trying to avoid running into her.”

“Upset her, how?”

“Well, you know when I came to get you out of that scrape in Blackwater—I had Irodee with me, remember?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you see, that’s the crux of it. I brought Irodee along instead of her—and then all that bad stuff happened and…” She let out a breath. “And then more bad stuff happened…” She winced. “It’s complicated. I missed her wedding, and didn’t call her… It’s all a mess.”

“Missed her wedding?” Bannor narrowed his eyes. “I remember Tal mentioned something about someone looking all over for you.”

“Yes,” Wren grimaced. “She’s going to catch up to me eventually.”

“Do you not like this person or something?”

“No, actually, she’s my best friend.”

“I thought Irodee was your best friend.”

“Irodee is a great friend, but I’ve known Zee longer, and have been through more with her. It’s just that Zee is kind of… clingy.”

“Clingy?” He shook his head. “You lost me.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated. She was supposed to get married, but she kept putting it off. She was using me as an excuse—that she just had to go with me. So, this last time I took off without telling her, so she would finally go through with it. Then things went all sideways and terribly horribly wrong…” She rubbed her face. “She’s going to kill me.” She shook her head again. “Sorry to burden you with that tale of woe, you’re obviously here to eat something like I was.” She looked back to the racks of Velastra’s goodies and sniffed the air. “Damn, they smell good. I need twice as many to get my mind off that.” She raised her hand and waved at one of the assistants. “Meitrea! Meitrea! Trika com dal es na-namae.” She pointed to some berry and icing covered pastries on the tray in front of her and held up four fingers. “Quatra.” She looked back to him and colored a little. “Sorry, I’m famished—or at least I realized I was when I got waylaid by a downwind breeze.”

He laughed. “No worries, I was just diverted myself by an attack of appetite.”

“Mmmm,” Wren hummed, almost bouncing as the dark-haired elf arranged the four pastries on a plate. “You want me to order you something? I know your Elvish is still a little weak.”

“Thanks, I want what just came out of the oven over there,” he pointed to a melon-sized snowy white loaf of spear-grain bread sitting on the cutting board, its nut-brown top split and golden rivulets of butter dribbling down its sides.

“Oooh, good choice.” She looked to elf poised at the counter. “Meitrea, es ji dim—” She paused. “Dimkhal?” She pointed to the bread.

The elf frowned and glanced where Wren pointed. “Dimikha-al?”

Wren made a coming gesture. “Ai. Ai. Dimikha-al. Letres es monetara.” She shook her head looking toward Bannor. “Fine one I am to talk about speaking the language. Lords!”

The elf set Bannor’s prize down with the rest and mumbled something that Bannor didn’t catch. The savant doled coins out of her pouch into the elf’s palm, took her plate and handed Bannor his.

“So,” Wren said, grabbing a tart as they went back up the steps and taking a big bite. “Mmmm,” she rolled her eyes and chewed. “What brings you here?”

“Well,” he ripped off a hunk of spongy soft bread and thumbed it into his mouth. The slightly salty taste of the warm moist bread was every bit as good as it smelled. He swallowed another delicious bite before speaking. “Well, I’m here looking for Daena.”

“Do tell.” Wren finished the first of her four tarts with gratified moan. She licked her fingertips. “I’m looking for her too.”

“Hmmm?” A thread of concern worked its way through his insides. “Can you tell me about it?”

Wren shrugged. “I suppose. Remember that big man we met during the trial—Tal?” Bannor nodded, Tal wasn’t an easily fellow to forget, especially considering he worked for the eternals, some of the most powerful creatures in the universe. “Well,” Wren continued, “Tal paid me a visit this morning. Apparently, Daena has developed some new powers and has been using them rather freely recently.”

Bannor popped another piece of bread into his mouth and chewed slowly. Together the two of them weaved through the crowd toward the ramp leading up to the next level. Suddenly, the bread didn’t taste as good as it had a moment ago. He swallowed. “Say—like teleporting.”

Wren was lifting the next pastry to her mouth and stopped with a raised eyebrow. “Exactly like that… how did you…?”

His voice dropped. “Same mission, different reasons.” He paused. “She’s not in trouble is she?”

The savant chewed a piece of tart thoughtfully. “Urrm, not exactly, it’s more of a warning that she’s starting to irritate the eternals. Apparently, she’s further improved her stealth techniques and she’s deliberately making herself difficult to track.” She paused at the top of the ramp and turned to him. “You wouldn’t happen to know why she might be doing that?”

Bannor rubbed the back of his prickling neck. “To keep me from spying on her.”

Wren blinked and her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Never mind. There’s some surmise that Janai and Daena are running some campaign in the south—in Coormeer.”

“Coormeer?” Wren echoed. “Why Coormeer? For that matter, why would anybody care?”

He shook his head. “That’s what I said.”

The blonde woman smiled. “Great savants think alike.”

Bannor chuckled at her joke despite a little twist in his stomach. Both of them remained silent as they walked across the sparsely populated forum to the steps that led up to Terrace Illustra. He started to press into the incline and stopped.

Wren paused and turned.

“I don’t want this to be a confrontation,” he said.

She raised a hand. “I’ll follow your lead. You know her better than anyone.”

Except maybe Janai. That was what concerned him. The princess was a master of persuasion and seduction. She knew how to get into the affections of people—especially a barely-into-her-teens girl, with a potential that surpassed even that of a pantheon lord.

He continued up the steps and stopped at the top. A few people stood around the terrace chatting. Messengers were couriering packets to the desk that served as the administration center for the business carried out here. He focused on the gallery where Janai usually conducted her business.

Janai was of average height and might be missed amongst the elves on the way up, but Daena was impossible to miss. With that plume of red-auburn hair fluffed and primped the way Janai liked to see it, the young woman stood out like a beacon amidst the mostly pale haired Elves. Add to it the fact she was easily head and shoulders taller than even the males around her and she could be picked out of the densest crowd.

Wren frowned and quickly climbed the ramp to the level above. She came back moments later. “Nobody has seen them on the Lord’s Terrace.”

“The entry guards remember them coming in before noon,” Bannor said.

“Well, they’re not here now,” Wren said. “I can sense when Daena is around, she has a powerful aura unless she’s masking it.”

Bannor thought a moment. “Let’s go to the gallery, I have an idea.”

Both of them walked to the spacious area of arranged chairs and low tables. Near the back was the tooled scalebark divan that the princess favored over the seats. She and Daena often shared the same broad couch.

“What are we going to do here?” Wren asked.

“See if we can make them ‘appear’,” Bannor answered. “I’ve learned that when you have a close affiliation with an object that you leave threads of your life force behind. For instance, I’ve found the link to a cherished sword or piece of jewelry can be rather strong. That spot,” he pointed to the divan. “Is Janai’s favorite.”

“Okay, so what does that get us?”

“You know that ‘watched’ feeling you sometimes get when somebody you can’t see is looking at you?”

“Sure.”

“Well, when I play with these residual threads, it’s like that feeling only a lot stronger. It makes you shaky, itchy, and uncomfortable. If you get that feeling, usually the person thinks it’s due to the area around them.”

Wren grinned. “Sneaky. It’s worth a try. They might not come back immediately, but it sure would speed up the process.”

Bannor relaxed and allowed his nola sight to take over. The world filled the twisting writhing bands of life, energy, and relation. The pulse of the Eternity throbbed behind his eyes, and the ebb and surge of time and space thrummed in his ears. A billion times a billion threads tingled on Bannor’s skin making him feel charged and alive. Yes, he had finally tamed the Garmtur to the point it was no longer his enemy. His magic still experienced unforeseen side-affects, but nowhere near the magnitudes they had been. This process hadn’t been one of learning, but time; time to heal, time to come to terms with what he was.

The Garmtur Shak’Nola.

He studied the worn but comfortable divan. Thousands upon thousands of cords of relation, force, and mass ran through its structure, but he was seeking a more subtle dynamic working amidst the different energies at work, those of decay, the counter pressures of nail and screw binding wood. As he concentrated, narrowing his sight just to the energies of Janai and Daena he felt his pulse quicken and a bead of sweat run down his forehead. With greater control, had come greater effort. The Garmtur seemed to have gotten less responsive over the tendays. He wasn’t certain why, but felt safer for it.

Bannor reached out and took hold of the threads he knew that belonged to Janai and Daena. He drew a breath. Mentally, he imagined a chill wind strumming the strands of life-energy. With fingers of the Garmtur’s power he strummed their material ties like harp-strings. The eerie tones of their counter-response hummed in his under-hearing.

As he continued to tease their residual essence, he began to feel a thrum of reaction—a distant sense of irritation and dread. This was exactly what he wanted. The second princess wanted to play games. She wasn’t the only one who could keep secrets.

“Is it working?” Wren asked.

“Getting there. Janai is starting to get agitated. Daena is a lot harder to scare.”

“Kid’s damn near invulnerable and she knows it,” Wren murmured. “Can you tell where they are?”

“Far away,” Bannor determined, feeling the threads and their length. “Not in the city for certain. I can feel Daena’s aura. It is different. It’s probably that new stealth technique that has the eternals annoyed.”

“Bannor, did I ever say that you scare me?”

He smiled, still concentrating on the threads under his control. “More than once. I scare me, sometimes.”

At the other end of the threads he was manipulating, he felt the energy and agitation from both women rise. More frustration than fear it seemed to him. Moments passed. Bannor knew he would have to keep the pressure up for a while. If they were involved in some negotiation or court proceeding in Coormeer, it would take time to get clear.

“Should I sit down?” Wren asked.

“Probably a good idea,” he answered.

Abruptly the threads stretched out across distance became dramatically shorter, ending somewhere close by. He let up on the pressure, unfocused, and tapped Wren on the shoulder.

Wren glanced at him with a puzzled expression. “What?”

From a spot where several tree limbs dangled down onto the terrace, two figures stepped out. The bigger of the two with her mane of red-auburn hair was easily recognizable as Daena. Her glowing green eyes were narrowed and she looked upset. The tall savant turned first-one was dressed in a long sapphire-colored gown and a large assortment of silver and platinum jewelry that accented her ever more robust body. Daena could alter her shape, and over the tendays had been getting increasingly more bold in the ways she enhanced her appearance.

As they moved toward the front of the terrace, Bannor confirmed the other person was Janai. The second princess of Malan wore a deep violet dress much like Daena’s, she too was heavily festooned with necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and armbands. Sarai’s older sister had put on weight since they had gotten back from Asgard, but was still a stone lighter than when he had first met her in the western mountains of Ivaneth.

The fact that the women were dressed for a party and not court only put more questions in Bannor’s mind. What were they up to?

Both women were grumbling to one another and so preoccupied that neither seemed to notice either he or Wren until they were almost to Janai’s private gallery.

The princess froze, eye wide. “Bannor!” She looked to the blonde savant. “Wren!” She paused and Bannor sensed her composing herself. “When did you get here?”

Wren folded her arms. “Oh, we’ve been here a while now.”

“Hello, Bannor,” Daena said in smooth voice. She flipped her auburn hair over one shoulder. She made a slow smile. “Good to see you. What’s the occasion?”

He could tell from the sound of their voices that his trick with their threads had really shaken both ladies up. “You’re the occasion, actually.”

The young woman frowned. “Me? Why?”

“Sorry, it’s not just you, it’s both of you. We can simply get to the heart of the matter with a question. Were you two just now playing around in Coormeer?”

Janai’s lips pressed to a line and she rubbed the back of her neck. Her glowing amber eyes narrowed. “Bannor, Coormeer is three hundred leagues away. How—”

He held up a hand. “And you two can teleport.”

Daena let out a growl, rolled her eyes and stamped her foot. She pointed a finger at Bannor. “Damn it. It was him.”

“Him what?” Janai asked, looking up Daena with a puzzled expression.

“That feeling, that sensation,” she sputtered. “Whatever you want to call it. He was fooling with us somehow.”

Bannor shrugged. “Guilty. I just wanted to see if you really were teleporting around.”

Janai shrouded her eyes with a hand. She drew a breath and her whole body trembled. “Bannor,” she said in a low voice. “I want you to promise to never do that to me again.” She pressed her lips to a line. “What is this about? What if we were in Coormeer?”

“Personally, I don’t care if you do take over Coormeer. Apparently, there are others who feel differently. The more important thing is the eternals. It seems Daena is getting them hacked off with her deliberately becoming untraceable. In trying to hide from me, you’ve gotten in trouble with them.”

Daena folded her arms and stared at Bannor. Her voice dropped. “What makes you think I was trying to hide from you?”

Bannor sighed. “Tell me you weren’t and I’ll leave you alone right now.”

The young woman stared at him. Her stern expression softened. “It didn’t work, huh?”

“It worked fine,” he answered. “You’ve always been able to hide from me. That doesn’t keep me from affecting you however.”

“Obviously, distance isn’t a factor either,” Janai grumbled. “And I will remind you not to do that again. I thought my heart would stop!”

“I apologize,” Bannor replied. “I was simply trying to get your attention.”

The princess came forward and took hold of his wrist. She looked up at him, face serious, but not angry. “Well, Brother, you have it. So, tell me, how it is you know about Coormeer?”

“I know nothing about Coormeer. I don’t want to know about it either. What you two do is your business. I simply wanted to deliver the message to where you were supposed to be.”

Janai brought a finger to her lips. She swung from side to side, focusing on the blonde savant. “Wren, you are here because of the eternals.” She swung to Bannor and narrowed her eyes. “Bannor, somebody else sent you.”

He waved a finger. “I’m not getting involved. I saw nothing. I heard nothing.”

Janai’s brow furrowed, she pulled at the lobe of her slender pointed ear. “Sarai is sniffing around, isn’t she? Doesn’t she have enough to do with the wedding preparations?”

“Janai,” he pulled her hand off his arm and patted it in his palm. He slid back a step. “This is me bowing out before I get in trouble. You’re right, I have a wedding to worry about.”

“Wren,” Daena said. She pressed her lips to a line. “About this thing with the eternals…” Her tone thinned. “Did it seem—serious?”

There was a rasping sound and a gust of air washed over them. “Serious as dragon-fire,” a deep voice rumbled behind them.

They turned to see the broad form of Tal Falor dressed in black leather step from a slash torn in the air. The lines of his blocky face were set in a frown, brow furrowed, and dark eyes narrowed. In his fist was a pace long blade that shimmered and flashed; the shaladen blade Nova. Using his nola to look into the man’s threads told Bannor Tal was not someone to trifle with.

“Hey, hey,” Wren put up a hand and stepped forward. “Tal, I just now gave her the message!”

“Yeah?” Tal responded. “Darlin, ain’t my problem. She just didn’t get the benefit of a formal warning before I take her in. She knows she ain’t on the line. She knows the rules. You were both told.”

Bannor saw Daena tensing and the glow brightening in her eyes. She was considering not going along. “Whoa!” he yelled, stepping between them and throwing up his hands. “I’m certain this is a simple misunderstanding.”

“Friend,” Tal said in his rumbling bass. “You ain’t on my list. Don’t get on it by gettin in my way. Terrible shame, her being so damn pretty an all, I’d hate to have to take her down.” He pointed a finger and made a coming gesture. “Koass wants to see you—now. Believe me, you’d prefer the escort service.”

“You make it sound like forcing me would be easy,” Daena said with a dangerous rasp in her voice.

“Kid,” Tal said. “Easy or hard ain’t the issue here. If I can’t do it, Nethra will come in here and knock you cross-eyed. Between you and me, save yourself some pain. She hits a lot harder than I do.” He shook his head. “ ‘Sides, she has no gripes about whipping up on a lady. Me, I got issues with punching a girl as pretty as yerself. I just do what I’m told. Be a good girl and do the same.” He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “So, pick one: come along, or start running.”

Wren went and put a hand on Protectorate warrior’s arm. “Tal, calm down, let’s not fight.”

The man smiled. “Princess, I am calm. Ain’t no big deal, just a dispatch and detain. She don’t want to come, that’s fine. I really prefer not havin to whack a girl, but like I said—I have orders.” He raised his chin. “Come on, Daena, you don’t want me chasing you. You can do that stealth stuff and I’ll get the hounds, and it’ll get ugly.” He made a coming gesture. “Gimmie your arm and we can walk out of here nice and gentle without bruises or anger. I’m sure Koass is just going to yell at you a while and let you go—probably.”

“Probably?” Daena repeated.

“Can I go with her?” Janai asked. “I’m partially to blame. I’m her sponsor.”

“Yeah, I think it would be good if you went,” the warrior responded. “After all, you been the one encouraging her to do it.”

Janai raised an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

Tal rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember who my bosses are then ask me again.”

The Arminwen’s voice was tiny. “Oh.”

“I should go,” Bannor determined suddenly. “Janai is taking care of her, but I’m the responsible party.”

“Izzat so?” Tal said. He shrugged. “You want to get yelled at too, fine with me. You going too, Wren?”

The blonde savant bit her lip. “I better. To keep Bannor out of trouble.”

Tal looked to Daena and held out his hand. His face was serious, but not hostile. “Please.”

Daena swallowed and put her wrist in his hand.

“That’s the way.” Tal raised the shaladen sword and slashed in front of him.

The crackle of magic ripped through the air and Bannor felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. The sides of the gap peeled back with a rasp, revealing a giant circular chamber bounded by huge glowing gems. Cool dry air gusted in their faces bringing with it an ancient leathery scent.

“After you,” Tal said, indicating the opening with his sword. “On to the fun.”

Heart thumping, Bannor stepped toward the gate knowing it would be anything but fun.

Chapter Three
Called to Heel

« ^ »

A life lived without love is empty. So too is it lacking when there is no challenge, no enjoyment—no risk. We are never more ourselves than when we simply answer the call of our whims. Only fools refuse to acknowledge who they are and the warm rush that comes with those acts that just feel right. Even an eternity of years is too short if you can simply laugh at yourself. Pity the poor sods who take themselves so seriously that their faces shatter at the smallest slight. They live short and empty lives indeed.
—Janai T’Evagduran,
2nd Princess of Malan

The infinitely long step through Tal’s magical gateway was one Bannor would not soon forget. For an instant, the threads of the entire universe seemed to be compressed down to a single probability, a black slash carved across the gulf of time. It only flashed through his nola sight for a fraction of a heartbeat, but the after effects left him so shaken and dizzy that it took him long moments to really register their surroundings.

They had stepped into a dark chamber whose size Bannor couldn’t begin to guess. While not light-less, the area gave the impression of depth without detail. The sound of Janai and Daena’s hard footwear guttered into the distance without any answering reverberations. The ceiling was lost in darkness. No curvature or texture was visible in any direction. A humming echoed through the vast space, the sound distorted and eerie. A faintly acrid smell hung in the air, and threaded through it was a myriad of faint scents reminiscent of both the outdoors and the indoors. The combination while not unpleasant was disconcerting and out of place. To smell trees and running water when none were visible was confusing.

Tal paused for less than a handful of beats. He picked a direction and strode forward. Lost in this alien place, everyone followed. The strange gray perspective around them never seemed to change. Nothing grew further away, nor did anything seem to get closer. It seemed that Tal had just taken them to some vast empty chamber devoid of recognizable feature.

“What is this place?” Janai asked in voice that wavered slightly.

“Eternity’s Heart,” Tal answered.

Bannor wondered how the heart of Eternity could be some titanic void. That made no sense.

Janai voiced his incredulity for him. “This big empty space?”

“Ain’t empty,” Tal answered. “You just don’t know what yer lookin at.”

As the big man finished his words, the darkness around them split apart as though they had stepped through a curtain. The humming that Bannor had heard before became a thunder in his mind and chest; the rumble and surge of incredible life.

From darkness to light, they had appeared at the inside edge of a giant circle of twelve spherical crystals each twice the height of a man all giving off a pulsing spectral illumination.

Power.

The sight made Bannor freeze in place. Energy fountained upward out of the gemstones into the space all around them. Ultra dense threads supercharged with eternity’s essence laced the area like filaments in a spider’s web. Each flow of power fanned out into the distance branching into millions of smaller and smaller filaments. Here in this place, primal threads of reality and causality were coming into being instant to instant. The heart of eternity… the core of creation.

He gritted his teeth, expecting Tal to get split apart any instant as he strode heedlessly in the chaotic jumble of potentially deadly filaments of primal force. The shaladen warrior didn’t appear to feel or even notice the skein that had so riveted Bannor.

Janai had stopped when he did.

“Are you all right, Bannor? You look pale.”

“I—” He could barely get his mouth to move. He looked around totally befuddled. This is where his savant powers came from, or at least it appeared to be. He blinked and shook his head. Through the glare caused by eternity’s power, Bannor realized that he had missed many of the details of their surroundings. The circle of crystals was not empty. There were more than a score of creatures standing alone and in groups near the stones. Many looked as human as himself, but there were others—ones whose threads and appearance made them anything but human. Here and there through the group were the eternals, gleaming paragons that loomed tall and imposing over the other creatures. He noticed that many of them had stopped their conversations to watch Tal escorting Daena and Wren. What eyes weren’t trained on the two women, slowly turned to him.

Bannor’s stomach went queasy, he felt the attention of those powerful beings, felt the intensity of their intellects probing his intentions and his magick.

“Carellion…” Janai breathed. It appeared that for the first time the princess really noticed what they had stepped into. “It’s immense—and so… are they.”

“Uh huh,” he agreed.

Noticing that they hadn’t moved, Tal stopped and turned back. “Hey, sight-see on your own time.”

Stiffly, Bannor moved across the floor toward where Tal, Wren and Daena stood. Every step, he kept expecting to get split apart by the titanic power flowing through this place. He didn’t even feel a tingle. How could he see it, almost taste it, and not feel it?

Daena and Wren watched as he and Janai proceed toward them, obviously grateful for any delays. Neither woman seemed particularly eager to see Koass. The two other savants while hardly at ease, seemed more comfortable with these amazing surroundings.

As he and Janai crossed the area, he heard quietly voiced curiosity and intent eyes furtively following their progress. None of the eternals that Bannor saw were ones that he had seen before.

Tal waited with folded arms as Bannor and Janai joined up with the group.

“Tal,” a female voice called from behind them.

A tall blonde woman dressed in close fitting blue velvet stepped out of a group and was by their side in five space eating strides. Bannor made no mistaking, everything about this woman screamed warrior from the intensity of her green eyes and the way she moved, to the campaign tattoos and master’s black-lightning mark on her cheek. She carried no weapons, but from the magic that swirled around her, Bannor didn’t doubt she could be lethal with nothing but her hands.

The big man turned back. “Whatcha need, Beia?”

Wren saw the woman and her face lit up. She went and took her hand. “Beia, so you are okay! Last I was at Gravar you were very sick, in fact so were Ess, Dorian, Cassandra and Aarlen. I hadn’t been able to get back since, but I heard that Cassandra and Dorian had been to Malan.”

Beia patted Wren’s hand. “Yes, we were healed.” She thumped Tal on the shoulder. “A lot thanks to this big lunk.”

Tal grinned. “Hey, you have to give yer kid Corim most of the credit for that. I just kept him out of trouble.”

“So, all of you are okay then?” Wren asked. “I mean, I was totally surprised that anyone could hurt Aarlen. Nobody ever did tell Irodee and I what was wrong.”

“Hey, I don’t want to interrupt this reunion or nothin’, but Koass wants them downstairs. Wren, you can catch up with Beia later.”

Beia was frowning. “So, Tal, these aren’t those specialists you were promising?”

Tal looked back at Bannor, and then to Daena and Janai. He pulled at his mustache and frowned. “Them? I don’t think so. Koass has me running them in for rule bending.”

Blonde Beia pushed hand through her hair, brow furrowing. She had a severe face that might have been beautiful if her expression weren’t so stern. “Wren, are you in trouble again?”

The blonde savant put a hand to her chest. “You know better than that, I never get in trouble.”

“That’s what I thought.” Beia shook her head. She nodded to Bannor and Janai. “Good luck in there.”

He felt a tremor of unease. Something about the way she said it made him nervous. Why should he be nervous though? He didn’t do anything wrong. “Thank you.”

Tal made a coming gesture and the four of them moved together to the far side of the circle of gems. Bannor felt the attention on him intensify as Beia spoke to others in the group she had been standing with. His attention was drawn back to Tal as the big man made a gesture in the air in front of one of largest of the stones in the circle. In front of them, a gap opened in the black material underfoot, revealing a staircase leading down into darkness.

“After you,” Tal said, gesturing everyone toward the opening.

Drawing a breath, Wren was the first to head down, then Daena. Janai followed quickly on her protégé’s heels.

“You too,” Tal said. “You volunteered. Remember?”

He let out a breath and started down the steep staircase. Inside the tingle of power lessened. The smell of flowers, and cooking bread became evident. As they hit the bottom landing, the image of some chamber of horrors had been dispelled from Bannor’s mind. The air just seemed too relaxed to be home to something horrible. The smells had a lot to do with it—but there was some other elusive quality involved. The air was cool without being cold, the walls were decorated in a variety of different forms of art, and a hodgepodge of rugs had been arranged on the dark wood floor. It was a study—a comfortable one. A huge desk dominated the rear of the room, books and papers stacked in neat piles monopolizing the largest part of its veined marble surface. Two doorways on the back wall hinted at chambers that must be a living quarters of some kind. Bannor guessed that even the omnipotent eternals lead some kind of private lives.

Bannor blinked as he realized that someone was behind the desk. Long hair loose on his shoulders and dressed in a dark blue casual robe was Koass. A plate of snacks at his elbow, he leaned back in a chair, square glasses perched on his nose. A book balanced in one hand and a crunch fruit in the other, the eternal might have been mistaken for a mortal if not for his glowing green eyes.

Tal came from behind Bannor and stopped at one side of the desk. “Here she is as requested, Boss.”

Koass put down the fruit he was eating, intently studying the tome in his hand. After a moment, he snapped the book shut with a crack that made everyone except Tal jerk. Straightening in his chair, he placed the volume neatly atop a pile of other reading materials on his desk and pushed the glasses up on his nose. “Excellent, Commander Falor, thank you for your prompt action. I accept delivery of your wards. You may log this mission as completed without need of follow up. You may be dismissed, take the rest of the day off.”

Tal grinned and saluted. “Thanks, Boss.” The big man turned to Wren and leaned close. “Stay outta trouble, okay?”

Wren frowned. “I’m not in trouble now.”

“You know what I mean.” He nodded to Bannor, and Princess Janai, then left the room without a second glance back.

“Miss Sheento,” Koass said, emphasizing the ‘miss’ strong enough that it made Bannor wince. “I see you brought some friends with you. I suppose you know why I had you brought in?”

Daena gulped. When she spoke her voice shook. “Well, sort of.”

Koass picked up the fruit he’d been eating, bit into it and chewed with a thoughtful expression. He swallowed and let out breath. “Let’s make it clear then, shall we—?”

“Lord Koass,” Janai spoke up, stepping forward. “Please, I’d like to—”

“Take responsibility?” Koass said, making the elf bend backward with the intensity of his gaze. “Never fear, Arminwen, I will get to your part in this.” Koass paused. His gaze went to Bannor. “Wasn’t she your responsibility first, Bannor?”

Startled by the eternal’s sudden shift of attention. Bannor stuttered. “W-w-well, yes. I got her into the mess anyway.”

Elbows on the desk, Koass steepled his fingers. His brow furrowed. “Yes. The whole affair with Hella was facilitated by you.”

“Through coercion,” Bannor added quickly.

“Through coercion,” Koass amended with a wry smile. “Extenuating circumstances are such a bother.” The eternal straightened in his chair. Though he looked and sounded the part of a benevolent creature, Bannor knew the power of the being on the other side of the desk. Koass wielded ultimate power, and did exactly as he saw fit to suit the ends of the eternals—how his decisions affected lesser creatures was a secondary concern at best.

The advocate eternal sighed and focused his attention back on Daena. “Daena. Do you enjoy making me cross?”

The young savant turned first one straightened, her glowing green eyes going wide. She bunched her hands in the silk brocade of her dress, knuckles turning white. “Oh, no, Sir. Of course not!”

Koass’s deep voice remained firm and level. “Was I in some way unclear, when I ordered you to allow yourself to be monitored?”

Daena dropped her gaze. “Well, no. I just thought that…” Her voice trailed off.

The eternal frowned. “Thought what?”

“Ummm,” she said in a faint voice. “I just assumed that I couldn’t make myself undetectable to you. You are eternals after all.”

The eternal narrowed glowing eyes. “If you felt it was impossible to hide from us, then why try?” He sniffed. “Were you trying to hide from someone else then?”

“Ummm, I’d prefer not to say, Sir,” Daena answered.

Koass leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips together. He glanced at Janai.

Though it was little more that a brief look, the princess flinched as though she’d been pinched.

“This is where you come in I assume?” Koass asked.

Janai drew a breath. “Sir, I assure you…” she started.

“Don’t assure me, Princess,” Koass said. “It doesn’t help. I realize very well that you have been providing something that this girl needed badly—a family and a sense of identity. You’ve shown her genuine affection and care, and that is admirable. However—” He paused and gazed at Daena. “Let there be no mistake, her obvious intelligence aside, we both know she is still just a child less than a score of summers old. Gratitude is a powerful force, as is a youngster’s desire to please their parent and win acceptance.” He placed both hands on the desk. “We are also both aware of your culpability in misleading her as to the importance of certain actions she’s taken for you. That is, of course, why you wished to keep your activities obscured from Bannor, so that others might not use him to be aware of your…fun in other kingdoms.”

The elf princess scowled at Koass and said nothing in response.

Daena frowned and looked at Janai.

Bannor started to say something when someone entered in through one of the doorways. The girl, a little younger than Daena, dressed in a short skirt and high necked blouse strolled right up behind Koass. She was tall and willowy with silver streaked dark brown hair. Slanted blue eyes looked out of a round face with an upturned nose and smallish mouth.

She swept around him, kissed him on cheek and put a piece of parchment on the desk in front of him. Koass smiled at the young woman, putting an arm around her and squeezing her against him. He then studied the paper she had brought. His brow furrowed. Whatever news was written on the page didn’t please him much.

After a moment, he kissed the girl on the cheek. “Thanks.”

The girl smiled, gazed at their small gathering for a moment, then left the way she had come.

Koass pushed the paper to one side and fixed Daena with his gaze. “Daena. It’s not your fault that you’re young. However, that doesn’t alter the fact that you are far too inexperienced to have the power that you currently possess. These abilities are still just a toy to you—a game. Again, this is because you simply don’t know depth of your potential. There are others who do have a grasp of it.” His gaze went to Janai. “I would hope that they would resist the temptation of using your ability for gain. However, that has not been the case. While those acts are disappointing, those indiscretions are inconsequential in light of the mischief you might have been causing—intentionally or not. Rather than let you continue your path into some real trouble, I’ve called you to heel before you did something that really annoyed me. The monitoring is not just for our piece of mind. It is also to keep you out of the hands of someone more—ambitious—than your lady Janai.”

“Do you think someone could do that?” Wren asked.

Koass smiled. “You think Aarlen is the only villain out there with sweet promises?” He sighed. “Though inside you may wish to deny it, Daena. You are the reincarnation of a first one—with all the requisite powers and abilities.” His voice rose ever so slightly. “Should you have the knowledge, you would be as powerful as any of the eternals under my command. That is, in fact, why you must allow yourself to be monitored. I don’t care who else you hide from, but you will let your protectorate contact know your location and condition at all times.”

“All times?” Daena repeated.

“Yes, Daena,” he growled. “That includes privy trips, baths, and any other compromised situation. You are not to be out of contact for any reason. This is your one and only warning. If there is another incident there will be brig time and thereafter you will be assigned a very visible and inconvenient guardian to watch over you. Am I clear?”

Daena swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sir, might I be allowed to ask question?” Janai asked. At Koass’ nod she straightened. “I don’t ask this to challenge you. It’s more a point of understanding, but how is it the eternals have the right to dictate to us? Besides being more powerful than we are, what gives you the authority to make such decisions? I don’t remember electing you as defenders of the universe.”

Surprisingly, Koass didn’t look offended at all by Janai’s rather blunt and direct query. “That’s a fair question. You probably just don’t know how often the balance of the universe you live in is threatened. In the beginning, Gaea gave birth to them…” He gestured to Daena. “Surely, you see the resemblance. She and I even have the same physical trait of the glowing eyes. It’s not an accident I assure you. For purposes of simplicity, let’s just say that the first ones simply didn’t work out. They were too self-involved, too conflicted and aggressive for their own good. However, Eternity still needed guardians. Through a long involved process I won’t go into today, the eternals are one half of what evolved from Eternity’s desire. What gives us the right to judge and keep order? If it makes you feel better—it’s because we were here first. With a few exceptions, all life in this universe is an accident. We, on the other hand, were planned.”

“So, the first ones were originally meant to defend Eternity?” Bannor asked.

Koass nodded.

“Gaea didn’t explain it that way to me,” Wren said. “She didn’t mention it at all actually.”

Koass shrugged. “What’s the point? The Eternals fill that role now.”

“And you guys never need help I suppose?” Daena said, folding her arms.

The Advocate Eternal grinned. “Actually, we are continually understaffed. In fact, right now we’re in search of some subject matter specialists.”

“Does it pay?” Wren asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wren!” Bannor let out.

“Hey,” The blonde savant turned on him, hands on hips. “I wasn’t signing you up. Although, you should seriously consider it—how else are you going to buy a decent wedding gift for Sarai, much less a good ring?”

Bannor blinked. He’d totally forgot about the money. The only money he had was the gold that Sarai gave him. “I can’t. I have that nightmare schedule to contend with.”

“Well, if your schedule is an issue,” Koass said. “It might help to know any time spent here has little bearing on the passing of time at your home. You can return to the instant you left or ten days after—they are the same.”

“Really?” Bannor said. “Sarai doesn’t know I’m gone then?”

“I doubt it. Unless, she has chronal awareness and can detect when you are temporally dysjuncted.”

“Whatever that means,” Daena added. She glanced at Janai. “How much does it pay?”

“Deana?” Janai said in tight voice.

“You mean you need money?” Koass asked. “I thought the princess was taking care of you.”

Daena glanced at Janai. “She is. I’d like to have money of my own sometimes. I mean we’ve been having fun… but nothing exciting has happened. After what Bannor and I did in Gladshiem, being in Malan is kinda—well—dead.”

Janai put hands on hips and frowned at the young woman.

“I like dead,” Bannor said. “I like not being chased. I like not being in pain.”

“Well, I came in on the end. I was in one big fight then boom—it was all over.” She looked up at Koass. “I might be a baby, but I have my uses.”

The eternal nodded. “I know you do.”

“So, what subject matter do you need specialty in?” Wren asked.

Koass raised his chin. “We need field operatives with knowledge of forces and magic in particular, also someone with experience in causal reality and creation. Lastly, we need some specific insight into matter and attraction.”

“Come now,” Daena said folding her arms. “Isn’t that too much of coincidence? Three requirements and three savants that fit them.”

The advocate eternal smiled. “Coincidence? Let’s just say that few things happen accidentally around me. I called Wren into this. I had other reasons for seeing you. I felt it was a fair chance that I’d get Bannor if both you and Wren disappeared. So, his coming along was a bonus.”

Bannor frowned. “I don’t understand, Sir. From everything I can see, the eternals embody the different universal powers the same way savants do—and you don’t have our limitations! Why would you need us?”

“Because we can only be in so many places at once. We have our avatars, the Shael Dal. However, our powers are greatly diminished through them.”

“They don’t have a tao,” Wren said.

Koass nodded. “We saw the dramatic boost in power that Bannor experienced when he briefly became my avatar. The power of eternity—of Gaea’s seed—flows best through a creature possessing a tao.”

“Still,” Wren said. “We’re limited by our physical bodies. I mean that’s what the whole alpha, beta, tao and body conflict is all about—” She glanced to younger woman. “And what makes Daena so special.”

“We’re aware of your limitations. We have a situation that calls for special measures and special people. We are confronting a problem that is truly astounding in its scope. We are dealing with creatures who have redefined the precepts of magic, time, and reality. They have used that ability to create an army of millions, each soldier possessing an amazing amount of power.”

Bannor frowned. “How amazing?”

Koass drew a breath. “Their common foot soldiers wield wizard level magicks and the equivalent of decades of hard wartime expertise. They are extremely resilient physically, and only slightly less so mentally.”

“They sound like monsters,” Janai remarked.

“However,” Koass said. “They don’t look like monsters, aside from being bigger than the average human, their appearance is nearly indistinguishable.”

Bannor’s stomach tightened. This sounded a lot like Hecate’s attack on Titaan only on a larger scale. “Koass, armies usually have a goal,” he said. “What are they after? What do they want?”

Koass sighed. He rose from his seat and put his hands behind his back. “You ask the very question we have been trying to ascertain, Bannor.” The eternal frowned. “What we know is fragmented. In fact, we’re not sure the creatures themselves know what they are after. That is exactly why we need all the viewpoints and insight that we can get. We need experienced operatives that team well who can fill the gaps of knowledge and ability within our existing personnel.”

“Well, we have a fair amount of experience, I suppose,” Bannor said. “Though, I’m not sure what we could add compared to those people out there.” He indicated up the stairs.

“You’re a survivor, Bannor,” Koass said with a nod, glowing eyes focusing on him. “You show discipline and inspire trust, you value life and avoid conflict when you can, but fight with all your heart when cornered. You’re a leader. Even if you had no other talents, you would be a valuable asset to us, but you are also the Garmtur Shak’Nola. You have plenty to add.”

He shrugged. “Okay then, you’ve got me, as long as I don’t get in trouble with my wife.”

Koass shook his head. “Bannor, if things get as bad as I think they will, trust me… we shall all have much worse to worry about than marriage preparations…”

Chapter Four
Subject Matter Specialists

« ^ »

Love is a strange beast, inspiring, depressing, and frustrating all at once. There is little I wouldn’t dare for the one I love, no wall I wouldn’t scale or danger I wouldn’t face. I know because I have.
—Ziedra Skyedoom-Felspar

Wren led the way back up the stairs, directed to go speak with someone named Aarlen. The name had made Wren grit her teeth. It was the third time Bannor had heard the name mentioned. It was just a name. No one else seemed to recognize it either.

Back in the gleaming chamber filled with magic and life force, Bannor simply couldn’t master his heart. It just wouldn’t slow down. His senses just wanted to go crazy from all the layers and skeins looped through everything. Forcing his breathing to be more shallow, he tuned his savant senses down until they were almost nothing. At least it kept his ears from constantly ringing.

“You okay?” Daena asked putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I think so,” he said shaking his head and looking into the green glow of her eyes. “This place just scrambles me up.”

“I know what you mean,” Daena said with a nod. “I’ve just turned my senses off. I was getting a headache.”

Wren was walking around the perimeter apparently in search of someone.

Bannor focused on the young savant. “Can I ask you a question?”

Daena looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You were already beautiful after you merged with Hella, but now… I don’t want to sound like a prude, but aren’t you too young to be looking like that?”

The girl looked down at herself. Dressed in that sapphire party gown and platinum jewelry, curly auburn hair brushed out and flowing over her shoulders, she was a buxom sight that would turn heads in any court, street, or castle. “Too young?”

Janai folded her arms and fixed him with narrowed eyes. “Yes, Bannor, what are you intimating? I think she’s breathtaking.”

Bannor didn’t answer immediately, his attention diverted for a moment as they weaved around the giant gemstones. He noticed that the eternals and other people gathered in this strange far off place were still watching them. He turned his attention back to Janai. “I know Daena is breath taking… but does she have to be that breath taking?”

Wren stopped for a moment, hands on hips scanning the periphery of the huge glowing circle of gemstones. Bannor assumed that people could be scattered throughout this vast chamber. The place had no visible boundaries. The circle of gems did appear to be the hub though. He guessed that there were probably domiciles like Koass’ beneath all the stones. Beia could be in any one of those.

“Where did she get to?” She trained on Janai and Daena. “What Bannor is so delicately trying to ask, is why Daena is being so obvious.” She cupped her hands in front of her in an expressive fashion. “I mean, come on, who are you trying to impress, hmmm?”

Daena’s face flushed. “I—”

“It’s okay, Daena,” Bannor put in. “I mean, I guess if I could change my shape, I would experiment too. I guess if I were a girl…” He glanced at Wren. “I’d experiment even more.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “I know this shape isn’t Daena’s idea, she’s just doing as Janai suggests. So, what are the man-catchers for, Janai?” Wren asked. “Have you got Daena leading some poor sod on?”

Janai folded her arms and frowned. “That’s none of your business.”

Daena’s gaze found Bannor, her glowing green eyes studying his face. “You really don’t like it?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Daena, that’s not the point. Like I said, you were attractive before. This is—” He eyed Janai. “Overkill. It suggests something about you that may not be true.”

“Like what?”

“A girl a lot older than you really are.”

Daena frowned. “I’m fifteen. I’m old enough to marry!”

Wren shook her head. “Don’t be in a hurry to grow up Daena. You’ve got a long, long—long life ahead of you.” She rose on tip-toes and shielded her eyes. “Ah, there’s Beia.” She headed off across the circle of stones.

The young savant stared after Wren and looked up at Bannor. “Is she kidding?”

He looked toward Wren. “No—no she’s not. She grew up in the streets like you. Come on, let’s see what we can find out.”

Wren had stopped in front the tall blonde lady that had asked Wren to talk with her after their interview with Koass. Beia leaned against one of the giant stones, her hands laced over the top of a huge silver bow easily as thick as Bannor’s wrist and almost as tall as the woman herself. The weapon had a strange liquid silver look to it, the surface shimmering and rippling as though alive. It looked like metal, but the idea was ludicrous, nobody could pull a bow that thick made out of metal. Even if it was wood, it was certain no ordinary person shy twelve stone of brawn could even make the string stir. The blonde Myrmigyne had changed her clothes and now wore a gray surcoat over black togs, her long blonde hair tied back with a leather band decorated with feathers. She seemed a bit more relaxed than earlier and smiled as they joined Wren in front of her.

Wren turned to them. “Beia, this one you met earlier, Bannor Starfist,” she nodded him. She swung her hand to Janai. “This is Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran, second princess of Malan.”

Beia dipped her head to Janai. “Arminwen.”

Janai nodded back.

Wren nodded to Daena. “This is Daena Sheento, Janai’s ward prodigal.” Wren put a hand on Beia’s shoulder. “This is Beia Targallae. She’s one of the people who taught me sword fighting.” She smiled. “You’d probably know Beia best from her membership in the Band of the Crescent moon.”

Janai was eying the huge bow. “Did you enter any archery tournaments under the name Regaura?”

Beia’s eyes glinted in recognition. “Yes, I usually enter tournaments with my formal name. I almost beat you in Silverwood in ‘92. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get back to try again.”

Janai smiled. “I look forward to it, that’s the most competition I’d had in many summers.”

“Some day when I have the free time.” She turned her head, and blinked at Wren with emerald eyes. “So, are you our subject matter specialists after all?”

“That’s what Koass told us,” Wren answered. She frowned. “We’re supposed to meet with Aarlen to get some idea of how we can help.”

“Aarlen?” Beia’s brow furrowed. “Why would he? Ah, I know why.”

Wren dipped her head. “So what exactly was going on at the tree with you and everyone? I mean Cassin and Annawen were running things, it was so strange.”

Beia sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, the Shael Dal had a big mix up with one of my enemies… and it got really complicated. A lot happened to me during that mess…” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes got a distant look.

Wren turned her head. “Are you okay now? I mean from when I was living in Loric’s house, you seem—well…happier. Like something good had happened.”

Beia pressed her lips to a line. Bannor could see emotions igniting in the woman. “Mixed blessings I suppose. I do feel better, I worked through some terrible problems… As you saw we all got hurt, but Aarlen was the worst.”

Wren shook her head with an incredulous look. “I just can’t imagine anything hurting her.”

Beia nodded, a solemn look on her face. “It’s my fault, I pushed her to do something and…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you saw, it nearly killed us all…”

Hearing the wistful way Beia spoke, the troubled look on her face, Bannor could tell it must be something terrible. He glanced to Daena and Janai who were listening, obviously moved by the Myrmigyne’s words.

“And you’re all okay now, right? I haven’t seen Cassandra and Dorian, but I understand they’re okay.”

“They’re all fine,” Beia affirmed with a nod. “For us, it was more of a physical thing—physical things heal. Aarlen…” She swallowed. “Well, it was Hecate…”

The name made Bannor stiffen. Wren too straightened up.

“Hecate?” Wren scowled. “Beia, Bannor—” She glanced to him. “He killed her not long ago.”

“We know,” Beia answered with a nod. She raised her eyes to Bannor. “I don’t know how you did it—” Her voice hardened. “But I thank you for it. That bitch needed dead.”

“I’m missing something,” Wren said. “What exactly happened to Aarlen?”

Beia looked down, and pressed her lips to a line. “She… well, we…” She seemed to have a hard time getting out the words. “We sh-shattered her mind… the four of us…” She swallowed, the memory still apparently tough on her. “We broke her, and because we were all linked—we broke ourselves. While the group of us were unconscious Hecate stole Aarlen’s soul.”

Wren shook her head. “Hecate attacked when Aarlen was vulnerable; to get even for the renouncement in Riverback.”

Beia nodded.

Bannor stepped forward and put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Wren, obviously you know how all this ties together. If all of this has happened, how can we go see Aarlen then?”

Wren looked up at Beia. “I’m hearing this news along with you.”

The Myrmigyne sighed. “A new friend of mine—Corim—he intervened, he sort of put Aarlen back together. We really didn’t have all of her until after Hecate was killed.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Wren, the only reason I’m telling you, is the experience changed Aarlen… she’s really—different now. She’s not the same person you remember.”

Wren frowned. “She couldn’t possibly get any… meaner—could she?”

Beia rolled her eyes, obviously uncomfortable. “You’ll see. I just wanted you to know that how you’ll see her—it’s not an act. All four of us, our minds bled into her and she lived in Corim for a while… it’s … complicated.”

The blonde savant blinked. “It sounds like one of my problems.”

“Yes, it’s a lot like that.” She straightened up, toed the hard black floor, and raked a hand through her hair. “I think I’m the one struggling with it the most. I like how she is now.” Beia shook her head. “That’s what makes me feel bad. I know she would want me to put her back to the way you and I knew her.”

“Oh whoa,” Wren breathed, she reached up and rubbed Beia’s shoulder. “That’s heavy.”

Beia gave Wren a forced smile.

Bannor knew that most of what had just been discussed was related to Wren’s past. Hearing the tone in the two women’s voices, he couldn’t help but feel that something momentous and fundamental had changed in Wren’s absence from her friends.

“I’ll take you to Aarlen now.” Beia looked around. “Have your friends teleported before?”

Wren looked around, her gaze fixed on Daena and Sarai. “I know those two have been doing it regularly. Bannor’s only done it twice that I know of.”

He drew himself up. “Twice,” he confirmed.

“Okay.” The Myrmigyne said with a nod. She took the huge bow by the handle. “Snowfire.”

The gleaming silver war-bow shimmered and pulsed, the surfaces giving off a dim blue radiance. Lines seemed to trace across its surface and then the weapon gave off a pulsing sound and collapsed in on itself. The metal became an amorphous blob flowing around Beia’s hand and arm, reforming and flowing into a new configuration with a bubbling sound.

Bannor raised an eyebrow as the shape stretched out into tiny limbs, reaching up and stretching out into small talon-tipped wings. The silvery metal color turned to a greenish hue whorled with a whole spectrum of colors, and lines etched a scale pattern over the length of a body.

In a flare of light, the transformation completed itself, leaving a small jewel-encrusted dragon perched on Beia’s arm. He looked similar to the giant dragons Bannor had seen in Gladshiem only this one was small and had an obvious stinger on the end of its tail. The entire surface of its skin glistened with different gems that caught the pulsing light of Eternity’s heart and reflected them in a dazzling display.

It blinked gold eyes and looked around. Immediately fixing on Janai and Daena. The corners of its reptilian mouth pulled up into a smile.

Bannor felt his jaw drop. It was alive!

The little creature made a cooing sound, then flicked into the air off Beia’s arm and landed on her shoulder, and wrapped its tail around her neck. It nibbled on her earlobe and stuck a long serpentine tongue in her ear making her flinch.

“Snowfirrre…” she growled at it.

The dragon grinned with needle-like teeth, the brow ridges above its gold eyes rising in an expression of surprise and innocence. It reminded Bannor of another much larger dragon that fancied herself a comedian—Kegari.

Wren was fascinated. “Whoa Beia, I never saw this little guy before!”

“I’ve always had him,” Beia said. “He just couldn’t do the dragon trick before. Ever since he got shaladen powers, he spends a lot of his time that way.”

“He’s a shaladen?” Bannor breathed, feeling his heart catch. “Like Sharonsheen?”

“Not that powerful,” Beia answered looking at the creature on her shoulder. “He’s an ‘honorary shaladen’, about half the power of a normal shaladen weapon. Snowfire’s ability is shape changing. He’s a living weapon. He can become anything, a sword, a bow, a spear… I can even make him into armor and clothing.”

The little dragon sat back on its hind legs, raised its chin, and made a haughty show of preening itself.

“He is so cute!” Daena cooed, leaning forward to look.

“That is top class,” Janai said, her amber eyes wide. “Does he become jewelry too?”

Beia frowned. “All the time.” She pulled on Snowfire’s tail, looped around her neck. “He especially likes necklaces.”

“Totally wizard,” Wren said.

Bannor watched the dragon as it soaked up the attention from the three women. It obviously wasn’t an animal. Its eyes followed the conversation, and the expressions that passed on its miniature draconic face were that of an intelligent creature.

“So, anyways,” Beia said. “Snowfire, now that you’ve shown off. Transport please.”

The little dragon rolled its eyes and snorted. He fluttered his wings in agitation at having his attention-basking interrupted. He uncurled his tail from around her neck and aimed the stinger up.

A spark started at the tip that became a flare, followed by a flash of brilliance and a globe of reddish light that spread out and engulfed the five of them. There was a sharp twisting sensation and the abrupt sense of falling. The world went black, and then stars seemed to rush at them from all directions. Bannor’s savant senses felt the universal threads around him tighten abruptly and then let loose.

The darkness around them parted and new scenery shimmered into view. Bannor felt a twinge in his stomach, a brief disorientation that made him stagger a bit, but it wasn’t anywhere as bad as the time he had gone with Wren.

Wren looked back at him. “Okay?”

“Fine,” he smiled. He sighed, able to relax and let his savant senses roam as normal without being dazzled by too much information. “That wasn’t bad at all. I think my savant powers being stronger help too.” He looked to the dragon. “That’s a pretty good trick.”

The dragon grinned at him and raised an eye-ridge, fluttered his wings and started nibbling on Beia’s earlobe again.

“A good trick indeed,” Janai confirmed, head turning to survey their new surroundings. The princess looked hardly affected by the transition. She put a hand on Daena’s shoulder, the young savant already peering around the new environment with glowing eyes.

Bannor looked up and sucked a breath as he gazed around at the massive hall they had appeared in. The area was lit in a soft golden light from hidden sources high up. They stood at the far end of a huge colonnade of gold-marble pillars some hundred paces long that ended in huge wooden portals at the end. A giant circular falcon-head crest was inlaid into the black marble floor in gold metal. The pillars held up a vaulted ceiling some fifty paces up, that was decorated in murals that depicted hundreds, if not thousands, of maps apparently done in intricate detail. Why maps? Bannor wondered. It was attractive but found himself puzzled by the potential significance.

Two things startled him about the place, the first was the complete absence of magic. The atmosphere was completely cold of it, not even traces. The other thing was the smell. Usually, huge lofty chambers like this had a dusty, musty, smell to them. The air was pristine mountaintop clean, with only the barest hint of a sweetness to it.

He glanced behind them, a pair of scale-wood doors some five paces high filled the back wall with a stained glass half circle window above them with the same falcon-head crest colored into it.

Wren’s brow furrowed. “Whoa Beia, where is this?”

“Falconhall,” the Myrmigyne answered.

Janai was studying the ceiling with narrowed eyes. “What’s the significance of all the maps, Lady Beia?”

The Myrmigyne glanced up. “Those are all the territories governed by Aarlen’s family.”

Janai’s head turned slowly toward Beia. “No, that can’t be, there’s thousands of territories represented there.”

“Right,” Beia agreed. “It’s not all up there, that’s just the significant ones. Aarlen has entire worlds under her sway.”

“Worlds?” Daena breathed held tilting to one side.

“She’s pretty major,” Wren said. “Live fifty-thousand summers, and spend most of that time taking over stuff and you’ll have a lot.”

“Fifty thousand?” Bannor repeated in shock. Who was this, a god?

“What family is this?” Janai said in awe.

“This is the home of house Frielos.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Bannor. Janai appeared to recognize the name though. Her already pale skin turned the color of milk. “F-f-frielos? You mean, we’ve been talking about Aarlen Frielos—the Ice Falcon!”

Wren pointed at the floor. “Janai, look at your feet.”

The princess looked down and saw the symbol they were standing in the middle of and her cheeks colored. She gripped her chest and staggered a bit.

Daena caught her arm. “What’s wrong?” Obviously, she, like Bannor had not heard of this Frielos family. To him, it was just a name.

“Aarlen Frielos,” Janai breathed. “The Ice Falcon, the crimson death, the brass b—” She glanced at Beia and cut off the word she was going to say. “She heads what’s probably one of the most powerful families in all of the Ring Realms!”

Beia waved a dismissing hand, rubbed the dragon on her shoulder and nodded toward the doors. “Follow.”

Bannor glanced at Wren, shrugged and went after the blonde woman. To him it was just a big house, like the citadel of Malan. He found the idea of a woman eons old who wasn’t a god to be an interesting idea. Creatures of power no longer frightened him like they did. After facing Odin and the jury of Asgard, there simply wasn’t much left to be afraid of. Nothing was more potent than an eternal, a living autonomous thread of Eternity. After staring into Koass’ glowing eyes, a mortal creature that had attained the power of a god was more of a curiosity than anything else. They weren’t here to fight after all.

He looked back. The princess was still standing there in the center of the crest. Daena stood by rubbing her shoulder looking concerned. He went back and took the princess’ hand. “Janai? Come on.” As he closed his fingers on hers he realized she was trembling. “Janai?” He glanced back and saw Beia and Wren waiting. He put his arm around the princess. “You’ll be okay.” He pulled her into motion.

Janai came when he tugged. She sighed, a sheepish expression on her face. “I don’t know why it scares me.”

“I don’t know why either,” Daena said. She put a hand on the back of the Elf’s neck. “I am here with you.”

Janai nodded. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

The three of them caught up with Beia and Wren in a few instants and the group moved together into the greeting hall beyond.

The chamber through the doors was opulent beyond anything that Bannor had ever witnessed. Two huge falcon-crests made with platinum and jewels sitting in carved wooden frames were the main decorations on two of the walls. Fountains featuring different mythical figures chased with gold and silver bubbled in each of the four corners of the room. There were several divans and corner tables, all made with the plushest and most expensive materials, carved and bejeweled. He could tell their value by the way Janai was looking around with wide eyes. If it impressed the jaded princess of the wealthiest nation in Sharikaar, those things were priceless. It was all a huge display basically to demonstrate the family’s wealth, which it did admirably.

As Beia moved into the room a half-dozen servant types dressed in black breeches and white tunics with feather ruffs and the falcon-crest emblazoned over the left breast scurried up to her.

“Mistress Regaura,” the oldest of the women servants bowed to her. Her plain face was deeply seamed, but handsome in a matronly way. “How may we serve?”

“Tell the Magestrix I have guests to see her, and that I’m coming in with them.”

“Immediately mistress,” the woman bowed and all but two of the group seemed to vanish they moved so fast.

The remaining two, a young girl and boy barely into the teens bowed to Beia. “We await your pleasure, mistress.” The young girl said, a thin wisp of a child with curly blonde hair, a cherubic face, and over-large crystal-blue eyes.

“Teanna,” Beia said putting a hand on her head. “Take us to wherever mistress Aarlen is.”

The girl looked up at Beia, eyes wide and face glowing as though she had been touched by the hand of a goddess. Bannor guessed that Beia’s knowing her name and being nice was something unusual for the girl.

Teanna bobbed. “Yes, Mistress.”

Beia held out her hand, and the young girl took it timidly, and lead them out of the back of the room and down a broad passage.

“Whoa,” Daena breathed. “I thought the citadel was impressive. This place is incredible.”

“Well, if you were queen of a dozen worlds, don’t you think you could afford it?” Wren remarked.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

However visually impressive the surroundings were, Bannor found it all to be somewhat grotesque. So much wealth had been accumulated here and wastefully applied to every trivial detail—down to the silver stranded drawstrings on the curtains, and jewel encrusted doorknobs. It was beautiful, but it was opulence for opulence’s sake. While he appreciated the artistry he couldn’t keep from thinking how many people must have suffered for Aarlen’s family to attain such a gigantic fortune.

They passed a few side antechambers and Bannor saw other denizens of this place, tall pale-skinned men and women, dressed in the finery and jewels of nobility. Though many saw Beia, none of them said a word in greeting. From the looks they gave her, it did not appear that the Myrmigyne was very popular. No one seemed brave enough to openly disrespect her however. As they moved through the giant structure, Bannor noticed another odd detail—the quiet. Even footsteps sounded muted. Voices didn’t carry far. It was so very strange to sense people around them and hear almost nothing.

The broad hall expanded into a massive rectangular commons area and atrium where Teanna paused, her attention focusing on one of the corners. Two huge curving staircases swept up to semi-circular balcony that opened into railed wings that enclosed the entire room. The furniture in the chamber, including two small dining areas were situated close to the walls, leaving space for a polished striped-bloodwood floor inset about twenty paces across, this too sported the a gold inlay of the falcon-crest. Like everything else, all the articles here were expensive beyond Bannor’s imagining. Because of its extreme rarity, he’d never seen anything but small objects carved from striated bloodwood. Centered in the wall between the stair sweeps was a several pace high framed portrait of a striking white-haired woman dressed in a black and silver military outfit, a cloak of multi-colored feathers hanging from her shoulders, a massive red scepter cradled in her arms, and a jeweled tiara on her brow.

He studied the portrait, that had to be the house matriarch, he already didn’t like her much simply from the wastefulness; a complete disregard for cost or economy. She had an icy beauty that started with haunting silver eyes, and a hard unrelenting perfection that suggested only indifference. This entire place mirrored that character. Many things in the Elven citadel were expensive, but there he felt the artistry and beauty of it, the pride and love that went into each intricacy. In the Frielos family home, everything had a cold distant feel, still beautiful, but much of it lacked the warmth of people creating something for the sake of beauty.

At his shoulder, Daena was looking around in awe, taking the details of beautiful paintings, tapestries, statuary, and decorations. The girl bent down to examine a glass flower done with exquisite detail.

“Hello mother,” a deep voice said from one of the corners where Teanna had focused. A big man was sitting in one of the dining areas sipping something dark from a gold-filigreed cup and saucer. He pushed back his chair and rose. He was dressed in the same black and silver uniform as the woman in the portrait, silver epaulets decorating thick muscular shoulders. Dark-haired with ghostly silver eyes and an androgynous clean-shaven face he came to Beia, his great height forcing him to bend a little to take her hand. “It’s good to see you.” He had a mesmerizing voice with precise clear diction.

Beia nodded, looking up at him but not smiling. Her tone would be best described as guarded. “Hello, Thanos.”

On her shoulder, Snowfire hissed at the man. A frown on his draconian features, gold eyes flashing.

The dark man didn’t respond to the dragon, apparently used to it. “And who are these guests?” He asked, looking around. “Such attractive ladies,” he said looking to Janai and Daena. “Dressed for a ball it would appear.”

Bannor observed the effect the handsome nobleman had on Beia’s female guests, all three of them looked like they’d been hit in the forehead with a hammer.

“Lady Kergatha,” he bowed over little Wren, taking her hand and kissing it with a courtly flourish. “I recognize you from the great game. Mother had mentioned to me her desire for me to court you for marriage. Seeing you in the flesh, I see that would not be such a bad thing.”

“Uh…” Wren stammered.

Thanos switched to Janai, bowing over her hand as well. “Arminwen, though I know not your name, it is obvious you are a princess.”

“Janai,” the elf lady forced out, cheeks flushing. “Janai T’Evagduran.”

“Ah, the most beautiful princess of Malan and the finest archer in all the realms. Well met, Milady.” He kissed her hand and turned to Daena, taking her hand and kissing it as well. “So, this ravishing creature must be your ward prodigal, Lady Sheento. I must say young miss that I love your eyes, they glow with such warmth, vitality and strength.”

“Y-y-you do?” Daena breathed, face coloring.

Bannor stared. This fellow was epitome of smooth.

He turned to Bannor, stepped forward and held out a hand. “Sir.”

Bannor took his hand and shook, looking up into the fellow’s silver eyes and feeling the strength in the man’s arm. A pretty-boy Thanos might be, but far from a weakling. The complex knot of threads radiating from him was not that of someone ordinary, but of a creature possessing powerful magic.

“Ah,” Thanos said to Bannor. “I thought I recognized you. You are the slayer of Hecate and tamer of Odin. I watched the trial. There is great potency in your deeds, Sir.”

Beia had watched Thanos courtly greeting with a tolerant patience. “Thanos, where’s Aarlen?”

“Upstairs, entertaining some guests,” he answered, turning to the Myrmigyne. “Shall I take you to her?”

“Thanos, I’m certain you have a million things to do,” Beia answered. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from them.”

He nodded to her. “Yes, of course, you are too polite.” He looked around at the other women. “Ladies.” He stepped forward and took Wren’s hand again. “Lady Liandra.” He said in a deeper voice.

The blonde woman just stared at him as he straightened up. “As my mother says, I have a million things to do, so I’m off to find out what they are. Good day.” He bowed and vanished in a blue flash.

Wren continued to look at where he’d been standing.

“I think he’s a little old for you,” Bannor remarked.

“What?” Wren’s attention snapped to him. “How do you know?”

Bannor rolled his eyes. “I know people’s threads. I’m guessing he’s probably two or three millennia old.”

“Whoa, really?” Daena said.

Beia nodded. “Those are some senses you’ve got. He’s around twenty-five hundred, give or take a decade or two. Most of Aarlen’s children are elders. He’s her baby.”

“I like her babies,” Janai said after a moment.

The Myrmigyne rolled her eyes. She put a hand against the little blonde girl’s back. “Teanna, go on.”

The little girl headed them up the stairs, the rest of them following.

“Beia,” Wren called up to her.

“Yes,” the blonde woman answered back as they climbed the stairs.

“Was he serious? I mean about Aarlen telling him to court me?”

Beia shrugged. “I’m certain he was. After losing Ziedra to the Felspars, you don’t think she’d actually give up on you? He’s the one kind of persuasion that’s hard for anyone to find fault with.”

Wren’s face colored.

“He called me ‘ravishing’,” Daena said with a grin. “Nobody ever called me that before.”

“He’s exactly the type I was worried you’d attract,” Bannor murmured. “He’s too smooth, too polished—he’s been trained to influence people—especially easily-impressed young women.”

“By coincidence,” Beia remarked from the top of the stairs. “Bannor’s right about that too.”

Once on the balcony they took the left wing and headed through an archway into a lofty hall that seemed to stretch forever.

“Whoa Bannor,” Wren said. “You’re on your game today.”

“Wren, I’m ignorant about a lot of things, but not people. I lived in a forest because of what I knew.”

“Humans are dirty nasty selfish creatures,” Wren answered back, her voice dissipating into the arched roof of the hall. “But you can’t live without them.”

“No, but you can live far away from them.”

“Hermit boy,” Wren responded shoving his shoulder.

“Tender foot,” he poked back.

“And you call me immature,” Daena said with a frown.

Both of them shrugged.

The walk took them past another hundred paces of fine art, statuary, tapestries, and other exquisite décor. Hidden lights and mirrors gave an extra glow to enhance the appearance of everything.

They went through a swinging bookcase that hid a stairwell, and climbed another short flight of stairs. As they exited, it opened into a brightly lit chamber of terraces dominated by a massive hemisphere of curved glass that looked out over a crystal blue lake surrounded by a pristine forest, the jagged silhouettes of snow-capped mountains in the distance. Only the barest refraction in the glass let the viewer even know it was there. Outside, it was apparent that house Frielos stood on a hilltop, a rocky hillside crisscrossed with stone paths led down to the water’s edge. Behind the glass, the cloud dappled azure blue backdrop with the slowly shifting patterns of the clouds reflected on the surface of the water looked more like a painting than something real.

Three carpeted terraces each several paces wide, stepped down to where the glass arced up overhead. Couches, divans, lounges, serving tables and knee-high dining platforms were arranged to take best advantage of the view. The riches displayed in the rest of the house were toned down in this chamber that probably served several functions. On the highest terrace, commanding a view of both the window and the stair, access was a massive desk backed by a wall of shelves packed with books. Another smaller desk sat in an adjacent corner. At the center of the chamber, the floor terraced up to a semi-circle of curved couches.

As Beia stepped up to the floor of what was obviously a guarded inner-sanctum white-coated servants scrambled out of exits camouflaged in the walls. Two men positioned at the stair banisters bowed before the Myrmigyne, one taking her hand to guide her up the last step.

A figure rose from the ring of couches brushing back long white hair, filling the room with her presence. The portrait in the commons had done the woman justice, a creature larger than life that was perhaps two hands taller than sky-scraping Irodee who was the biggest woman Bannor had ever seen. She was not wearing the military uniform, but a blouse of shiny black satin sequined with jewels that glittered in the brightly lit room. A gold falcon crest with ruby eyes hung on a platinum chain around her neck. She wore soft jodhpurs tucked into polished high-heeled boots that made her seem even more gigantic. She was as impressive as might be expected of ruler of worlds, but the one thing that the picture and all the cold surroundings and icy people they had seen did not prepare them for—the woman’s smile.

“Regaura luv,” Aarlen said in deep feminine voice that made the room hum. She crossed the room in three steps and met Beia with a hug. She pushed the Myrmigyne back a little and kissed her with obvious passion.

Beia responded at first, but when the kiss lingered she pushed against the much larger woman in apparent embarrassment.

Grinning, the silver-eyed elder let her go, apparently pleasuring in the Myrmigyne’s scandalized expression. She snatched Snowfire from around Beia’s neck, the dragon making a disgruntled growl as the big woman plunked him on her own shoulder. She pulled Beia close and put an arm around her as she focused on the rest of them.

For a bloodthirsty tyrant and ruler of an untold number of worlds, it was unexpectedly warm smile she gave them. “Greetings,” she said in that powerful voice. “Welcome to Falconhall.” Her silver eyes trained on the blonde savant. “Hello Wren, kill any gods lately?”

Wren’s jaw dropped. She started to say something, stopped, then tried again. “Magestrix—no, not recently.” She glanced to Bannor. “I leave that to him now.”

Aarlen turned those powerful silver eyes on him. Though the woman was smiling, there could be no mistaking her power. He’d seen gods that had half as much energy pulsing through them—and this woman was relaxed—not a bit of tension in her aura whatsoever.

The white-haired woman tilted her head. “A garmtur, Wren, such a collection of savants you’ve been gathering, and this young lady—” Her attention went to Daena. The woman’s eyebrow rose. “My my my…a da’jhamack, but one fully merged with a third generation immortal body. Such fascinating playmates.”

Bannor swallowed. Damn, this woman was dangerous in so many ways. She knew things even the pantheon lords didn’t know.

“Magestrix,” Wren said. “Koass sent us to you as your experts.”

The woman ran a tongue across sparkling white teeth. “Did he now? How thoughtful. Come child, let us discuss this.” She held out a hand to Wren.

Wren stared at her, blue eyes wide.

Aarlen noticed the pause and looked down at her hand. “I assure you it is clean. I haven’t killed anyone with it for at least a fortnight. Come.” She made a coming gesture with her hand.

There was a strange uncomfortable dichotomy with this woman. When she said she hadn’t killed anyone, she said it the way a person might mention doing the linens or cooking dinner.

Wren reached out tentatively and placed her hand in Aarlen’s.

“There we go,” the big woman responded with a nod. “All of you, come sit. I have guests, but we are all friends. This promises to be quite interesting.” She looked down to Wren, taking small steps so as not to drag her or Beia along. “So, tell me, does your friend know what she is?”

Wren’s eyes were still big. She nodded.

Aarlen looked back to Daena and Bannor saw a dangerous glint in the elder’s eye. “Really? How exciting…”

Chapter Five
The Supreme Magestrix

« ^ »

For nigh on thirty forty-five millennia love was nothing but a tool to me. I neither experienced nor inspired it. Then one day it pounced on me after the damnable eternals had scrambled my brains. Whether by design or accident, I know not, and now care not. For several cycles I remained the meanest creature ever to love something. I would dare say I raised being mean to the level of an art-form. Then four women and some addle-brained do-gooder boy infected me and scrambled my brains again. Somehow, I know I am still mean…I just seem to have misplaced my cruelty…
—Supreme Magestrix Aarlen Frielos,
Minister of the 4th Alliance Territories

As Aarlen was leading them back to the couches, a servant rushed out of one of the hidden alcoves with a piece a parchment in his hand. He practically fell on his face as he slid to a stop on his knees in front of her holding up the note. The pale woman pulled her arm from around Beia and let go of Wren as she took the page from his shaking hand. She snapped her fingers and made a dismissing gesture as she scanned the message. The man vanished so fast Bannor thought he would tear a hole in the carpet in his urgency to vacate the area.

The big woman studied the note for moment, sighed and rolled her eyes. She tossed the paper into the air. With a hiss, the sheet burst into flame and vaporized. “Pardon me, this requires my immediate attention. Please, have a seat, refreshments will be out directly.” She clapped her hands, sending more servants scurrying. She bent and kissed Beia on the cheek. “Luv, please entertain them for a few moments.”

Beia nodded.

Aarlen looked around, made slight bow and vanished, leaving Snowfire in mid-air, the dragon made an annoyed growl spreading his wings to avert his fall. He flitted up and landed back on Beia’s shoulder.

Wren scrubbed her face, looking at the place where Aarlen had been standing. “All right, I am now thoroughly weirded out.”

“That’s the nicest vicious dictator I have ever seen,” Janai remarked. “Her humor is a bit dark though.”

“She’s scary,” Daena said.

“She’s plain frightening,” Bannor murmured with a shake of his head.

“I told you she was different,” Beia said to Wren as servants started walking in with trays and placed them on the table.

“I don’t know what that is, but it’s a lot more than ‘different’. She’s almost—” She sputtered for a word. “Pleasant.”

A side door opened and a dark-haired woman swept out holding up the edges of a formal gown not unlike those being worn by Daena and Janai. “Aunt, what do you—???” She froze.

At the sound of her voice, Wren had snapped around.

The two women stared at one another.

The blonde savant’s jaw dropped.

Bannor felt a tingle in the back of his head that signaled the proximity of savant he hadn’t been around before. This new woman had the dark-hair and dusky skin he associated with the trade-peoples from over the ocean. She had a long face with a high forehead, big dark eyes, and a full mouth darkened to a deep wine color with make-up.

A mirror the woman had been holding in one hand clunked to the floor. “You—!” She growled, face turning red.

Wren gulped. “Ah, Ziedra…” The blonde savant looked like a black-horn caught in the beam of a hunter’s lantern.

“You!” Ziedra shouted, literally flying across the room and throwing herself on Wren.

The savant staggered back under the other woman’s tackle. “Thank Gaea you’re all right. Thank Gaea!” She breathed into Wren’s neck clutching her tight with trembling arms.

Wren rocked the bigger woman back and forth, patting her on the back. “It was bumpy, Zee, but we pulled through. It’s okay.”

The word ‘okay’ seemed to send a bolt of electricity through the dark-haired woman. She jerked back and sent a full force slap across Wren’s face that knocked her reeling back three steps.

“It is not okay! You witch! I’ve been scared to death! No word, nothing—you just snuck out and took that monster Myrmigyne with you instead of me! Then we hear Hecate has over-run Ivaneth and Malan, and no-one can find you—not even Idun!”

Wren was gripping her cheek. “Zee, I—”

“Shut up! Don’t try to make up some lame excuse! You abandoned me!”

Bannor stepped up and waved an arm between them. “Uh, ladies, please…”

Zee put hands on hips and glared at him. “Who are you? Some other ungrateful savant project she’s been working on?”

He blinked. “Milady, please don’t be angry with Wren. I—”

“Oh hush,” Ziedra growled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “Don’t defend her.” She turned burning eyes on Wren. “That really hurt. Don’t you love me anymore?”

Wren gripped her head like it was ready to explode. “Zee, I—” She sputtered, obviously at a lack for words.

“What? Speak up!” Ziedra glared around at them. “Perhaps you need one of your new friends to speak for you!”

A young man came rushing out of the room where Ziedra had come from. Bannor saw him and looked again as he hurried toward Ziedra. Dressed in only some breeches his bare torso made his odd appearance that much more obvious. His skin looked like polished gold, and his eyes were only blue glowing orbs. A red triangular jewel shined on his forehead and similar gem about the size of the thumb gleamed from his sternum a little below the collar-bone. His long black hair flew as he wrapped his arms around Ziedra from behind.

The woman struggled and kicked. “Rad, let go! I’m mad!”

He lifted her off the floor and rocked her side-to-side, pressing his forehead against the back of her neck. “Shhh! Shhh!”

The dark-haired savant shook her head and thrashed. “Damn it, Rad, let go!” She slapped his hands clasped together beneath her breasts.

“No,” he insisted. “Yelling at Wren, and making demands won’t change anything, my sweet.” He hummed something close to her ear and continued to rock her back and forth.

“Stop it,” she groaned, tears streaking down her face.

The gold man rubbed his face against the back of her neck. “You know Wren loves you—you don’t have to ask. Baby, there are some things you just can’t force—and some fears we cannot overcome. Shhh. Shhh.” He let go of Ziedra, turned the woman around and pulled her face to his chest. The woman hugged him tight, arms straining. The man glared at Wren over the top of Zee’s head, his glowing eyes like blue flames. “Lady Wren, I am very disappointed in you. Ziedra has been literally ill with worry over you—and then in anguish over the fact that you have been hiding from her since we discovered you were still alive.”

Wren’s eyes got wide and she put a hand to her chest. “I—”

He narrowed his eyes.

Wren hung her head. “Ziedra, I’m sorry, I apologize.” She said in a tiny voice. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like it did—I swear. I only meant to be gone a little while.”

Ziedra turned her face out of Radian’s chest to glare at her. “You promised you’d never do that again.”

“Zee, I was trying to help people.” Wren held out her hands. “You kept using my missions to put off committing.”

“Don’t talk to me about committing…” Ziedra snapped

“Zee, you needed Radian, just like you need him now. I needed to be away, so you couldn’t use me as an excuse.”

Bannor was looking around. When he came to this place, the last thing he expected was to get into the middle of some squabble with Wren’s past. She had mentioned that she’d been hiding from a friend. Who was this gold person? He was like no creature he’d ever seen. His threads were rather strange—a subtle kind of strength. The most interesting thing were the life threads in the jewels that intertwined all through his body. Living rocks? Such odd friends that Wren had. Of course, who was he to talk? He was marrying an elf, a couple dragons were still following him around, and he still visited with winged women on a regular basis.

“Can I say something?” Beia interjected, before Ziedra could respond.

Wren and Ziedra stared at her.

Daena walked over and drew Bannor back a few steps and whispered in his ear. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“This other girl is Wren’s regular partner I think…” he whispered back.

“She acts like they’re married or something…”

“We’ve seen stranger things.”

Daena grinned. “Okay. That’s true. So, you don’t know that beautiful gold boy either?”

He shook his head.

“Ziedra,” Beia said. “One thing I know for certain is that people don’t throw themselves into prison. I know you weren’t at the trial—but Wren went through a lot—and it wasn’t done to spite you.”

“Aunt Beia, she should have taken me along! That might not have happened.”

Beia folded her arms. “And you might have postponed the wedding—again—for the fourth time. What about Radian’s feelings?”

The young man held up his hands. “Aunt, whoa, let’s not go there!”

The blonde Myrmigyne tilted her head and put hands on hips. “You have to stop being a priss, Rad, and tell Zee to put a halt to this.”

The dark-haired woman’s face colored and she shrank back against Radian.

“Was I clear enough?” Beia said. “I’m not married to you, and I’m no kind of gentleman, so I can put it to you straight. I know you and Wren have a lot of history together, but you don’t own her. It’s only because she cares for you so much that she lets you yank her around like you do. Whether you want to believe it or not, she did you a favor.” Beia turned to Wren. “Now, the bit about you avoiding Zee and going into hiding after the trial. That you need to be clobbered for—which Zee just did… So, I’m officially calling it settled. Especially since there’s going to be a second wedding—which you are not going to miss under penalty of death.”

Wren’s eyes were wide. “A second wedding?”

“Aunt Aarlen insisted,” Ziedra said, briefly frowning a Beia. “She said Loric’s wedding was inappropriate and inadequate.”

“The Frielos weren’t invited,” Wren translated.

Ziedra nodded.

Wren brightened. “Well, that’s great! Then I didn’t miss it!”

The dark-haired woman scowled, voice acerbic. “Who said you were invited?”

Radian cuffed her on the shoulder. “Darling, Wren apologized.”

Bannor glanced to Janai. The elf lady seemed to be enjoying the exchange immensely.

The blonde savant rolled her eyes. “All right, Zee, what do you want me to do? How can I make it up?”

Zee looked up at Radian, then back to her. “Apologize like you mean it, give me a proper hug, and the rest… we can discuss in private.”

Wren let out a breath. She dipped her head for a moment then looked up. “Ziedra,” she said in a soft voice, blue eyes wide. “I sincerely and abjectly apologize. I am humbled before your right and proper admonishment, and I most soulfully request your forgiveness and an opportunity to apply proper hugging.”

“Nice apology,” Janai remarked.

“I’ve been practicing for a while,” she told the princess, and tilted her head to look at Ziedra.

The other savant pushed away from the gold man, dark eyes still teary and red. “Damn you, I can’t stay mad at you even when you’re being a wise arse.”

Wren spread her arms and grinned. “I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”

Ziedra turned, took a few steps, and threw a rough hug on Wren who pulled her tight. “You don’t know how many times I wished you were with us. Trust me, I regretted it a hundred—if not a thousand times.”

“This is the one Laramis mentioned who can fly, right?” Janai said.

Wren nodded.

Ziedra looked around. She held Wren around the waist and the two of them rose up off the floor a short distance.

Bannor sighed thinking of the trouble that would have averted back on Titaan.

Janai shuddered. “Oh yes, that would have saved us much pain—several times.”

“So, not that I’m usually the one for protocol, but are we going to get some introductions?” Daena asked, hands on hips.

“Let’s sit down and have a drink,” Beia told them. “Introduce while you eat.”

“Good idea,” Daena responded. “I’m hungry.”

The group of them gathered around the table centered between the couches. The servants had brought out six trays, two each of drinks, snacks, and confections. Like everything else in Falconhall, the things were fancy. The decanters that held the wine, ale, and other beverages made from hammered silver or carved from precious metals into elaborate fruit patterns and scenery. The glasses were delicate crystal almost too beautiful to drink from. After a short stint at the Malanian citadel, Bannor was starting to become familiar with the food of nobility, items that had to look as good if not better than they tasted. The ones that looked like little pieces of meat on sticks looked safe enough.

Beia pointed to a couple things on the trays. “Watch out, those are really spicy.”

Daena immediately grabbed for those.

Janai was swirling some of the wine in the glass, sniffing it, sipping and grinning. The princess was pleased.

After everyone had started nibbling, Wren immediately began hitting heavily from the contents of one container. Obviously, the encounter had been harder on her than she openly showed.

“Friends,” Wren said, nodding to the dark-haired woman. “This angry but dear friend, is Ziedra Skyedoom Felspar. This is her husband Radian Felspar. Zee, Radian, on my right here is Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran, second princess of Malan.”

Radian dipped his head. “Arminwen, taramansil bele kelas tirathi.” He put a hand over his chest. “Mitri kelas Ziedra vini tas Wren en balas silrada jihira.”

Janai laughed. “Domon, bele domon!”

“Hey, I know enough Elvish to know that wasn’t nice,” Ziedra said. “Wren is not a broken star. Just bent a little.”

“The intimation is that you’re trying to bend me,” Wren said, eying Radian. “Elvish has words for that sort of thing that don’t translate into common well.”

“I think he expressed it admirably,” Janai said nibbling on one of the confections from the tray and rolling her eyes in obvious enjoyment. “Mmmm. You two were married long before he came around—and it shows.”

Wren stared at the elf woman and flushed bright red.

Daena laughed. “You’re so mean, Jan. That’s not what he said. The silrada jihira is one who is reluctant to kiss the star, for fear they will be burned. Elvish is so poetic. I love it.”

“Do you speak it well, milady?” Radian asked.

Daena shrugged. “I’m not sure what I speak, everyone understands me, and I understand them. I haven’t run into any speech that didn’t make sense.”

“This is Daena,” Wren said by way introduction. “She is Janai’s ward prodigal. Zee, remember that thing we talked about with savants and their alpha bodies?”

Ziedra’s eyes widened. “She’s one?! That’s why she has all her magic turned inside out, so she doesn’t scare everybody half to death. I wondered!”

Daena held out a hand. “Wait, you can see my magic?”

The dark-haired savant nodded. “Magic is my thing, and yours is so strong. I’ve been so preoccupied or I would have been more curious about it.”

“Did I miss something?” Radian asked.

Ziedra raised her chin. “So, Daena, you’re a first one—whoa—I never expected to see it happen.” She turned her head. “If it ever occurred, I imagined someone a lot more scary.”

“Zee,” Wren said. “She is scary—we are sooo lucky it happened to a basically nice person…”

Daena turned her head, blinking glowing green eyes. She smiled. “I think there was a compliment in there someplace.”

Beia studied her with narrowed eyes. “No wonder Aarlen was so fascinated with you.”

Daena shrugged, took a flat disk-shaped confection from the tray and munched happily.

“Take note of this last fellow,” Wren said. “He engineered the jailbreak that got me out of Nifelheim, if not for Bannor, I’d probably be dead. Bannor is engaged to Janai’s younger sister. So, he’s here to escape all the fuss.” She grinned at him.

“I wish,” he said. “Koass asked us to help the eternals. Even though it was just a request, he’s the kind of fellow you don’t want to disappoint.”

“I understand perfectly,” Radian said. “They’re pretty imposing even when they’re being pleasant.”

“So, is this a mission?” Ziedra asked Wren, expression intent.

Wren grinned. “Well, of a sort, I guess. I’m not planning on taking off for any length of time. My brother just about lost his mind when the four of us vanished and he couldn’t get to grandmother.”

“Whatever you do,” Ziedra glanced at Radian. “I bet you’ll need some mages. We’ve got the magic. I can fly, and Rad, well, he can do all sorts of things with his Kriar magic.”

“We really don’t know what we’re going to do,” Bannor put in. “We were just told to talk to Aarlen.”

“And talk with me you shall,” a deep female voice said from by the window.

Aarlen had reappeared and she had three more people with her, two women and a man. One was nearly as big as Aarlen, with silver hair. The other had gold skin like Radian and blue-black hair that swept almost to her knees. The man had long brown hair and had the thick shoulders and rippled body of a warrior who trained for exhibition fighting.

The three came up the terraces following Aarlen. The threads of the newcomers were as different as the people themselves. The strangest part being that the man’s pattern had much in it that was similar to Aarlen, but not the skein he would have if he were a sibling or child of hers—more like he somehow had a fragment of her tangled up in him. The gold woman had that subtle power he detected in Radian, that and she possessed a sophisticated knot of threads that he associated with incredibly ancient creatures like the pantheon lords and the eternals. The silver-haired woman gave off peculiar emanations. She radiated threads that simply did not exist in any other creature he had seen; threads foreign to eternity? She too felt like an elder. Where did all these ancient creatures come from?

Beia rose as they stepped up to the final platform. Going to the young man and taking his hand. The burly man responded with a smile clasping his hands around hers. The gold-skinned woman also stepped forward with a smile and silently took Beia’s other hand. The silver-haired lady gave Beia a respectful nod.

“So, Niece,” Aarlen said, stepping up to the table. “Since you’re sitting next to Wren, and she’s not dead, I assume that you’ve settled your differences?”

Ziedra looked at Wren and pressed her lips together. “Mostly. As long as she doesn’t leave me out of things again.”

“Does that mean you’re offering to assist in this?”

“Yes, Aunt,” Ziedra answered with a dip of her head.

“Excellent,” Aarlen enthused, rubbing her hands together. “Saves me the trouble of commandeering you. We needed a magic expert. I am most interested in seeing what kind of trouble we can cause with so many savants together, especially with a master savant here to bind them together. I don’t think that’s ever been done.” She gestured to the people behind her. “Since Beia knows my new guests better than I, she can introduce them.” She nodded to Beia. “Luv.”

Beia pulled the man forward. “This is Corim Vale. He’s the newest member of the Shael Dal. He’s become a project that Tal and I have been sharing.”

Corim rubbed his clean-shaven face and eyed Beia with a smile, dark eyes sharp with intelligence. “Is that what I’ve become, milady… a project? I thought I was doing all right.”

Beia sniffed and elbowed him. “You’re still a plebe—Plebe. Live with it.” She turned to the gold lady. “This is Belkirin Dulcere Val’Saedra Starbinder of the Kriar dasta Fabrista.” The gold lady nodded. Bannor noticed that her eyes, unlike Radian’s were solid black orbs that seemed to have stars reflected in them. “She’s currently on special detached duty from the Kriar military to assist the Protectorate in recent matters.” Beia looked back to silver-haired woman. “Over here is Senalloy Moirae Corresont, she is a Baronian elite, a healer and warmage. She’s Corim’s—” She paused and glanced the man. “Assistant.”

Senalloy raised an eyebrow.

Corim rolled his eyes.

Gold-skinned Dulcere sighed.

Bannor immediately saw the tension between the three, two elders with their eyes set on the same boy. That had to be interesting. He had to empathize, he had dragons and baby first ones with their eyes set on him. Getting married wasn’t going to protect him either—not from those three.

“Corim, Dulcere, Senalloy,” Aarlen said, in that surprisingly pleasant deep voice. “Our other guests, who I did some research on while I was out, going around the table, on my left is Daena Sheento, ward prodigal for the elf lady next to her, Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran, second princess of Malan.”

Bannor noticed the way Corim responded to the word Arminwen. He made a slight bow at the waist in recognition.

“By Janai is Bannor Starfist,” Aarlen gestured to him. “Future Prince Conjugal of Malan, currently a Ranger elite out of Tenax. With him is Wren Idun-daughter Kergatha, my niece Ziedra Skyedoom Felspar and her recent husband Radian Felspar.” She turned back to the three new guests. “If you would have a seat, we’ll get started. Please avail yourself of the refreshments.”

Aarlen gestured Beia to a seat next to Daena and the she put her hands behind her back as Corim and the two elders sat down next to Radian. Bannor noticed the reverent way that Radian stood up as Dulcere came near and gave her some kind of salute that she returned with a nod.

Aarlen waited a moment while Corim poured a glass of something red, sipped it and leaned back to listen.

“All right,” the white-haired woman started. “Why are you here? First of all, let’s establish the problem. It is in a word: Baronians.” She gestured to Senalloy.

The silver-haired lady tilted her head, and kept a level gaze on Aarlen.

“While some Baronians like our friend here, may be relatively benevolent. There is a rather large force of them that are not. Apologies in advance Senalloy, but I’m going to use you as our model to put something in the minds of those of us who do not know the Baronians.” She brushed her hair back and drew a breath. “The first thing you might have observed is her stature. Like the Teritaani people from which I am descended, the Baronians are a warrior race culled to enhance size and strength. The things that aren’t apparent is that they have immort physiology which includes all the benefits you might expect; longer life, greater strength, resistance to energy, and a great affinity for magic and the powers of the mind. Now, as all of you here at the table are well aware… even one such person properly motivated can cause a great deal of mayhem.” She raised her arms. “For an example, you don’t have to look any further than myself.” She did a slow turn. “Consider too, that when I was born, I did not have the kind of physical and mental evolution that that person sitting right there was born with. Throughout her life she has grown and developed skills commensurate with those extra gifts.” Aarlen paused, her silver eyes looking around the group. She put her hands behind her back and began to pace. “So, what about that? What’s so bad you might think, after all we have the pantheon lords, each individually even more powerful. The pantheon lords themselves serve as checks and balances, they police their own to a limited degree. Occasionally, one of them will go rogue as some of us are more than familiar. However, the big difference is that they have never as a single group focused to do one thing.”

Aarlen paused looking around for recognition. Bannor could see where this was going and it already sounded pretty frightening. “Now, not every Baronian will be as experienced or accomplished as Senalloy—but elites exist on a ratio of about five to one. So imagine if you will, two hundred thousand Senalloys, supported by eight hundred thousand warriors all with a minimum of two to three decades of hard combat experience. Tie it together with an extremely strict military caste society. Not only can these people focus, they can focus well, and they have the capabilities to mobilize, coordinate, and orchestrate everything from the squad level to their entire fighting force.”

“Carellion,” Janai breathed. She took a hard hit on her wine, amber eyes wide.

“Milady,” Bannor said, focusing on Aarlen. “That brings me back to the question I posed to Koass. You don’t have an army like that unless it has a purpose. That kind of force could carve out territory anywhere in the realms. Even in the outer realms amongst the gods. An entire pantheon couldn’t hold a line against them.” He gestured to the people at the table. “With preparation, a group not much bigger than what’s sitting here flattened the high jury of Asgard.”

Aarlen drew a breath. “Koass didn’t say because he’s afraid to speculate. Corim here has a decent theory. One that I now prescribe to.” She looked to the broad-shouldered man. “Corim?”

Corim took another sip of his drink and leaned forward. “I believe they are after a device called the Genemar.” The man had a deep voice with an educated man’s refined diction. He reminded Bannor a bit of Laramis, except that he had the enunciation and bearing of someone used to speaking to groups. “There were certain members of the Kriar after it, as well as a ship full of another even more powerful race called the Jyril. It is my understanding the device was somehow stolen from the Baronians by a rogue member of their forces named Rakaar. Before he died, he revealed information about the theft and alluded to the device being ‘creation run amok’. What that means is still surmise.”

“Isn’t a million Baronians a bit many for a search party?” Wren asked.

“Not if you think somebody has the device and plans to protect it,” Aarlen said. “Whatever this thing is. It is not a toy. If you take that phrase ‘creation run amok’ and start speculating… it’s not hard to come up with some nightmares.”

“Something that can create life and matter,” Daena said.

“On a large scale perhaps,” Ziedra added.

“And it’s something movable,” Janai said taking a sip of her wine. “Because someone can steal it.”

“This is assuming that this device is what the Baronians are after.”

The gold-skinned woman sitting next to Corim placed a hand on the table, though she did not move her lips, she made herself heard in a voice both crystal clear and resonant. It did not make a sound but Bannor heard it in his head. He saw Janai and Daena both jump a little in surprise, obviously hearing it as well as he. It felt and ‘sounded’ exactly like the communication between savants and immorts. <We encountered a group of Baronians that may have been a small vanguard for this force.> She looked around, her solid black eyes sparkling with stars. <We happened to be in Rakaar’s ship at the time and they made an extreme effort to get to us. It does support Corim’s supposition.>

The silver-haired Baronian looked around. When she spoke it was with a strange accent that made her words sound heavy and thick, despite that, the tone of her voice had a smooth silky quality that was pleasing to the ear. “My brethren have control of the Kriar home world of dasta Karanganoi, they would not be here for any kind of conquest or territory. They have all the lands and riches they would ever want. If they are here, they are being driven to it.”

“Say for argument’s sake that this device is what they are after,” Radian said. “What can the Shael Dal do? What can anyone do? Since they are here on the offensive, they would just retreat from any force that posed a real threat. So many of them can teleport or create gates, that you can’t corner them. I doubt they’re all sitting in one place where you could wipe them out with a surprise attack.”

“Dealing with the Baronians themselves is not currently our focus,” Aarlen said with a shake of her head. “Discovering what they are after is this group’s goal. What we learn will determine our next action, but our obvious intention is to encourage the Baronians to leave by removing the reason they are here.” She looked around at the group. “Understand, even though this group is small, this is not a small operation. Koass has emphasized that the entire resources of the Protectorate will be made available to us, all the eternals and Shael Dal have been directed to provide assistance once I’ve established the membership of this task-force.”

“Milady,” Bannor said. “A question comes to mind. Having some army experience, this smells to me of the parable of ‘where does the dragon sleep’. You can’t stop them. If, as lady Senalloy says, there is nothing to hold them here wouldn’t it be just as well to give them what they want and let them return to where they came from?”

Aarlen narrowed her eyes and stared at Bannor. “What if they decide to stay? Can we afford to gamble? Besides, if this Genemar thing is a weapon, and at least two elder races want it—it could be something of significance beyond all of our imagining. You must remember, often something designed to create can un-create—annihilate. That’s not something you want to take chances with.”

Annihilate. The word sent a shock through Bannor that made his skin prickle. “Creation, annihilation, perpetuity…” he said aloud.

“What?” Wren said by him.

“I—” He was afraid to say. It had just been a silly vision brought on by the stress of his recent adventures.

Janai rubbed his shoulder. “Bannor, what is it… your skin just went cold.”

He swallowed. “I—this may have nothing to do with what we’re talking about… but I had a sort of vision this morning.”

Aarlen folded her arms. “A vision?”

“Yes, I saw—or felt rather, through the Garmtur, millions of life-forces swirling around something. There was this pounding heartbeat. In this vision, all the living things around me turned transparent and this green light shined through them. Through it all were words—‘creation’, ‘annihilation’, and ‘perpetuity’… It was very strange. I’ve sensed things through the Garmtur before, but not scenes—never words. I got the impression it was a threat… but… I really didn’t have anything to relate it to.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Daena said. “Your nola is so loony though who knows what you were sensing.”

Aarlen was studying him with narrowed eyes. Wren also seemed contemplative.

The silver-haired Baronian sitting next to Corim looked at him with intense violet eyes. “This Garmtur you mention what is it exactly?”

He glanced at Wren. “I just call it that, it’s the name for the ability, Garmtur Shak’Nola; savant of reality in the common words. I was just told that’s what it is. Normally, I can just see how everything is connected—and if I want I can pull on those connections… I just think of them as threads. I can see patterns in magic and people. Like when your friend Corim came in… I saw he was connected to Aarlen somehow… like he has a piece of her in him.”

Senalloy leaned back against the couch, her gaze shooting first to Aarlen and then Corim.

<That is extraordinary insight,> golden Dulcere said in her resonant thought voice. <What do you mean by ‘pulling’ on the connections?>

Bannor winced. “I don’t have much control of the Garmtur. I can affect things by pulling on their threads. I can, by pinching off certain threads, disable a creature’s magic.”

“Whoa, that’s like what I can do!” Ziedra spoke up.

“Every time I hear Bannor talk about his power,” Wren said. “I can’t help but think that the Garmtur really isn’t a specific savant talent, but all of them rolled up in one. He can do things that I do when he wants to. I’ve seen him do things that only savant specialists can do—he teleported us once like a savant of spaces.” She shook her head.

“He does disturbing things,” Janai remarked. “I shall remember to the end of my days that incident with Vidar and Tyr. That was… gruesome.”

“Now, I had a lot of help by Wren and Daena,” he said.

Aarlen was looking at Dulcere who had an incredulous expression. “Just because they are young don’t discount their power. I made that mistake once.” Her gaze went to Beia.

The Myrmigyne smiled at her.

Dulcere rubbed her throat. <I am not discounting at all—Corim has surprised me enough that I have learned my lesson.> She drew a breath. <My doubts are to be relying on youngsters with so much potentially at stake.> She shook her head. <My mother warned me to be careful around Wren.>

“Your mother?” Wren said with a furrowed brow.

“Her mother is Marna Solaris,” Aarlen said.

Wren’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“To be honest,” Aarlen said. “I am not terribly fond of relying on youngsters either. However, I have learned recently it is courage and stubbornness that often gets the job done. That, all of them have.”

“Milady,” Radian said frowning. “You know, we are here in the room.”

“Indeed,” Aarlen said with a nod. “My point is a lack of experience and knowledge causes mistakes however unintentional. Youth adds an unavoidable randomness to things that older more stayed minds find uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know,” Janai said rubbing Deana’s shoulder. “I’m not so young, I kind of like the unpredictability. It’s more exciting.”

Senalloy rolled her eyes.

“I am thinking that we’ll have some elders to keep the youngsters focused,” Aarlen said, mostly to the two other elders in the room. “I am envisioning perhaps commandeering Luthice and Alloy, or perhaps—” Her lip curled. “Loric.”

Radian frowned. “You don’t need to make such faces when speaking of my father.”

Aarlen sighed. “Habit.”

“I’m wondering if I can commit to this,” Bannor said. “I want to help, but things back at home have recently been in chaos. Much as I am not fond of all the fuss. I have a certain duty to fulfill.”

“My parents will cripple him and my sister will strike him dead if he messes things up,” Janai translated. “She’s pregnant, so postponing the wedding isn’t really an option.”

Corim raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, some people actually have relations before getting married,” Senalloy remarked nudging the burly warrior. “You ought to try it some time.”

The man flushed scarlet.

Aarlen sighed. “Well, for the nonce, there isn’t a whole lot to do. I am identifying my resources. When I have some specific lines of investigation to pursue that’s when I’ll need everyone. The Baronians are lying quiet right now, no doubt doing scouting of their own.”

“Do we know where they’re at?” Wren asked.

<No, we know where they were,> Dulcere put in. <They hit a Kriar way-point, a few people escaped, that’s how we have estimates of their numbers. They picked the place clean of supplies and technology. By coincidence, it was the same place where Rakaar’s ship was docked.>

“That is quite a coincidence,” Wren said.

“Lady Dulcere,” Bannor said. “This ship of Rakaar’s—is it intact? Some place where I might examine it?”

<It is no longer functional,> Dulcere answered. <The Baronians gutted it—searching for something.>

“I see why you like Corim’s theory, auntie,” Ziedra said.

“It doesn’t have to be functional,” Bannor said. He looked to Aarlen. “I have to be back home for dinner in a few bells, but I might be able to help you do a couple things before then. Locate your Baronians, and give you a general idea where this Genemar thing is. Would that help?”

Aarlen’s eyes widened. “Tremendously.”

<How?> Dulcere wanted to know.

“Tracking is what I do,” Bannor answered. “Even things that are hidden,” he glanced at Daena. “Everything in the universe has a thread associated with it. People and objects leave behind phantom threads if they have enough contact with something. It sounds like these Baronians searched hard on that ship, and occupied this way-point place you were speaking of. Something is bound to have left behind a trace I can use.”

“This sounds fascinating,” Corim said. “Everything leaves a trace you say?”

Bannor nodded. “When you put your hand on that glass, you leave a fingerprint. That tiny little bit is enough for me to know things about you.”

“That alone is a very powerful ability,” Senalloy remarked, looking to Aarlen. “It sounds similar to what some Kriar can do with enhanced time senses.”

<From the way he describes it, it is not time based,> Dulcere thought to them. <I am willing to take him to the location and investigate this.>

“I’d like to go too,” Ziedra said. “These Baronians have powerful magic, I might be able to learn something about them.”

“If Ziedra goes, I go,” Radian said. He grinned and rubbed his chest. “Well, after I dress.”

“Dulcere, why don’t you just take them all,” Aarlen said. “They’re used to working in a group anyways.” She looked around. “Unless there’s one of you who doesn’t want to go?”

“I’m interested in going if I can get out of this party dress,” Janai said. “I’m not saying anything will happen, but I can’t run three paces in this.”

Ziedra looked down at herself. “A pretty good idea. I’m not dressed for anything but a party myself.”

“Go retire to the antechamber there—all four of you,” Aarlen said, gesturing to Daena, Janai, Wren and Ziedra. “I’ll have proper clothing sent in directly.”

The four women rose and filed toward the doorway.

Radian rubbed his bare chest. “I just need my shirt and b—”

Aarlen gestured and he was wearing shirt and boots.

The gold man looked down. He grinned. “Okay, never mind.”

Aarlen snapped her fingers, and made a hand sign and servants rushed out through the hidden alcoves, Bannor presumed to get the clothing for the women.

“Are you confident of this tracking mechanism?” Corim asked Bannor, dark eyes intense.

He pushed out his lower lip. “Friend, nothing in life is certain. I think it’s worth taking the time.”

Senalloy stole Corim’s glass and took a sip from it. She indicated Bannor with her chin. “Trust this man,” she told Corim. “He’s lives by his word.”

Bannor gazed at her. “And how would you know that, Milady?”

“Your eyes,” she said. “You have the same eyes as Corim. He couldn’t lie if he tried. His tongue would shrivel out of his head.”

The other warrior sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

<She likes embarrassing you,> Dulcere remarked. <I don’t know why you put up with it.>

He turned to the gold woman. “Because she’s teasing. It’s her way. Just like you have your way.”

Dulcere raised an eyebrow. <That way being?>

Bannor saw the man hesitate, holding himself back from saying something he would regret. Having lived with Sarai for some time, it was now familiar to the times that Sarai baited him. Answering that question was certain to get him in trouble. Apparently, the man was savvy enough to know it.

“Please, don’t be that way,” he said in a pleading tone.

The Kriar crossed her arms.

Aarlen watched the exchange with mild amusement. “So, Bannor, the nobility are something new to you are they not?”

“They are a trial, milady. I love my wife-to-be very much, so I am dealing with it. We’ve been through life and death together, so I’ll be damned if politics and snobs will separate us.”

Beia chuckled. “Well said. So, when is this wedding?”

“By the light of the second full moon from now. I have to blow some silly pipes and dance around…” He sighed. “It’s going to be agony.”

All of the women were grinning at him now.

Only Corim and Radian seemed to empathize.

“She’s worth it though, I bet,” Radian said. “If she’s half as pretty as her sister.”

“Very nice,” he confirmed. “I would fight the hordes of Hades for her… I actually did… Hecate’s pet, Rankorhaaz… What a pain he was to kill.”

“The arch-fiend Rankorhaaz?” Corim repeated with a raised eyebrow. “You killed a demon-lord from the abyss?”

Bannor shrugged. “It was him or us.”

“Gads, man, how you can you be so blasé about it?” Corim wanted to know, dark eyes wide. “Whole armies have been unable to stop that thing.”

“At the time, I was serious about it. Since then, I’ve faced so much worse that I’ve just became numb to it. The fifth or sixth time you fight a god, you just start gritting your teeth and hoping your luck holds.”

Corim just stared at him. Beia raised an eyebrow.

“It sounds like you’ve lead an adventurous life,” Senalloy remarked. “Or have all the bad things been recent?”

“All within the last ten fortnights. I am still recovering.” He rubbed his chest. “I have a hole here where Odin impaled me on his spear. So, if I don’t sound eager to rush off on another quest—that’s why.”

Corim rubbed his own chest. He stood up. “Can I shake your hand?”

Bannor was a little taken aback but he rose. “Sure.” He held out his hand across the table. Which Corim clasped firm and hard.

“I just want to make sure we’re friends,” Corim said. “If you’ve got that kind of tenacity, I never want to be your enemy.”

Bannor laughed. “My fiancé says I just have a high pain threshold.”

Corim clasped his other hand on top of Bannor’s. “Indeed.” He let go, and nodded to Bannor and set himself down. “Mataya’s teachings tell us that pain is a crucible that purifies the spirit. We must all feel some pain in order to truly appreciate pleasure.”

Bannor sat down again. “To be certain, it sure is nice when it stops hurting.” He looked to Aarlen. “Thinking of hurting. I don’t want to sound mercenary, but Koass mentioned there would be pay involved in providing assistance to this effort.”

Aarlen put a hand to the side of her face. “Did he now? And what kind of pay were you expecting?”

He let out a breath, glancing at the others. He was glad Janai and Daena weren’t here. “Milady, I’ve never had much of anything. My Father was a wage farmer. The Baron doesn’t pay the ranger corps but a pittance. My wife-to-be is a princess, I hoped to get enough to buy her a decent ring for our ceremony.”

The white-haired matriarch stared at him, she looked like she’d been hit with a hammer.

He didn’t understand her reaction. Was it so outrageous?

“Yes, Aarlen, not everyone is greedy,” Beia said.

“He’s precious,” Senalloy said, grinning. “What color are your wife’s eyes?”

Bannor focused on the Baronian woman. “They are not unlike the color of yours, Milady, save they glow somewhat; an elven trait. What does that matter?”

Senalloy brushed a long nail back and forth under her chin. “You don’t know much about jewelry do you?”

“I confess that I do not,” he admitted.

“What color is her hair?”

“Again, much like yours, milady, though she has a bit more gold in hers.”

“Sapphire is the traditional wedding stone for the elves,” Corim put in.

“I think Aarlen can handle a wedding ring, Bannor,” Beia said, grinning. “Better to let someone who knows jewels to help you pick it out though.”

“I was going to get Wren to help me. She seems to know that sort of thing.”

Beia and Radian laughed.

He frowned at them. “Why is that funny?”

“Guilders know the value of a jewel,” Radian said, grinning. “But value is not how you select a lifelong keepsake.”

“How about this,” Senalloy said. “Since she and I share so much in the way of eyes and hair.” She removed one of her rings. Bannor realized that she was actually wearing one or two on every finger. “This is a rainbow-hearted sapphire. Quite a rare find actually. It will need to be sized and a proper nuptial engraving placed in the band, but I think it should satisfy her and any in-laws.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Bannor said. “I hardly know you.”

Senalloy smiled. “We will know each other. If you are a friend of Corim’s.” She rubbed the man’s thick shoulder. “You are a friend of mine.” She held out the ring.

“If you are certain,” he said.

“I am positive.”

He took the ring. “Thank you, milady.” He said examining the ring. It did seem to be a well crafted and beautiful piece, a platinum band creased with many intricate patterns and encrusted with tiny jewel chips. The main setting was a large clear slightly-blue gem that seemed to absorb the light in the room into its many facets making a rainbow colored glow shimmer in the heart of the jewel. His Garmtur sensed magic within the metal and the central gem. The magic wasn’t powerful, but he felt its threads fingering his aura. “This is indeed a beautiful gift, Milady. I’m certain Sarai will love it. What does the magic do?”

She smiled. “It’s a mood ring. It reflects the mood of the wearer. It is at its best when on a happy bride’s finger.”

Radian leaned over a looked at the ring in Bannor’s palm. “That’s a winner for certain. Elves really go in for craftsmanship and unique traits.”

“That was very nice, Senalloy,” Corim said.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “I know.”

Dulcere sighed.

“I suppose I shall have to replace that with something of equal value,” Aarlen said, eying the ring. “That was very—generous.”

Senalloy shrugged. “You don’t have to trouble yourself. I collect such things.” She wiggled her fingers, making all the jewels sparkle.

Aarlen tapped her toe and looked at the door where the four women had gone. “What is taking them so long?”

“They’re girls,” Bannor said. “The less they have to put on, the longer it takes.”

“Not all women are that way, Bannor,” Beia said with a flat expression.

He shrugged. “Live around elves, you learn patience. Trust me.”

Corim grinned and Radian smiled.

Only a few moments later the four ladies filed out of the inner office dressed for traveling. Both Janai and Daena had brushed out and braided their long hair, no doubt contributing to the time factor. They all wore similar outfits, a smoke gray long-sleeve blouse that had the falcon-crest stitched on it in gold, black close-fitting seamless breeches that came below the calf, and soft-looking lace-up boots. Wren and Ziedra had simply tied their hair back in tails.

Aarlen had her arms folded as the four strolled out. They all were laughing and chatting about something to do with some noblemen that Daena had recently encountered in Coormeer.

Wren looked up at Aarlen. “We’re ready.”

Dulcere rose gracefully from her seat. She looked to Aarlen. “Are you coming?”

The white-haired elder pursed her lips. Her gaze went to Bannor and then swept toward Daena, Wren, and Ziedra. “I better.”

Beia stood up. “You don’t expect trouble do you?”

“No,” Aarlen said, drawing out the word. She paused, silver eyes narrowing. She put a hand and the wide silver band on her arm. Bannor knew just by glancing at it, the metal object must be her shaladen because of the incredible number of the threads linked to it. “Just the same, I think I should go.”

Radian, Corim, and Senalloy stepped out onto the floor by Aarlen. Bannor stood, and went to stand by Beia.

Dulcere glanced around. <All ready?>

There were a host of nods. Bannor’s heart picked up tempo. He took a breath and nodded.

Almost before he finished the gesture, the threads of the cosmos were spinning around him…

Chapter Six
Traces in the Void

« ^ »

When Bannor talks I have to pretend to myself that he’s just bragging or making things up…He says things with a straight face that just make my skin go cold. After being through what he’s survived, I’m convinced a lesser man would be a gibbering lunatic…
—Corim Erik Vale,
Honorary Beta Rank Shael Dal

Bannor nodded and through the amazing powers of Dulcere the Kriar, the universe shifted. To his nola sight it was as if the threads of space kinked around on themselves, and for a brief instant two places in the void were the same. In that fraction of an eye-blink, the Kriar’s power bridged the overlap leaving them elsewhere. It happened so fast that he couldn’t perceive much beyond what she did. Unlike when Snowfire had transported them, this method of moving had almost no physical impact—merely a tingling on the skin and an odd ache felt behind the eyes.

They had reappeared in a vast cavern, or what looked like one until he realized the walls were metal. They stood in a raised circle about the height of a stair-step, the metal underfoot painted to resemble what looked a lot like a large target circle some twenty paces across. The circle lay about twenty paces from a rail that bordered what Bannor could only call a chasm. Bannor drew a breath as he craned his neck to look up. The chamber was so gigantic that the perspective made him lose his balance for a moment. It looked like a perfectly flat valley a half league across, with the further side looking like an impossibly large window looking out into a night sky filled with stars.

At the railing, the floor dropped away for what must be at least thousand paces. The details of the surface mere dots from their vantage. The ceiling was at least that distance or more up, the giant supports and trusses a maze-like pattern high above them.

Almost as startling as the chamber itself were the mammoth metal constructs sitting in several cradles across the valley floor. They looked like a monstrous cross between some bizarre bird and a leviathan from the depths of the darkest sea. The largest of these constructs easily measured a quarter league long. The biggest sailing ship he’d ever seen would easily float through one of the hatch openings he could see in the side of one of the behemoths.

The air had a caustic hint to it, the smell somehow flat and devoid of character. There was a low thrumming in the atmosphere, the metal walls vibrating with hidden power.

“Lords,” Ziedra breathed in awe.

“Carellion,” Janai muttered.

“Whoa,” Daena let out.

“Damn,” Wren said with wide eyes.

“What are those things?” Bannor asked pointing to the beasts.

“Void ships,” Corim said. “Kriar void ships.”

“They’re so big,” Janai said.

“They’re designed so whole communities can live in them,” Corim added. “To be sure, I’ve been in smaller cities. The amazing part is there isn’t much wasted space in them. A lot of the size is dedicated to storage, and to the propulsion.”

“Propulsion?” Daena repeated.

“What makes it move,” Corim explained. “On a sea-going ship, wind pushing against sails makes it travel. A void ship uses what I can only call magic to create a kind of energy that allows it to move.”

“They manipulate falling force,” Daena said. “I can feel it in the floor, and can see it in the wings of those things. The falling force is…” Her voice trailed off. “It’s not…natural. How odd.”

“There’s more kinds of force in that blue glow,” Wren said pointing to the window like wall on the far side of the chasm. “All of the air in this chamber is pressing against it.”

Dulcere looked around at them and raised an eyebrow. <What you call ‘falling force’ is a component used to motivate our ships. The ‘magic’ of it is a bit more complicated.>

“Just making something that size move is more magic than I ever imagined,” Bannor said with a shake of his head. “So, you said this place is a called a ‘way-point’.” He looked at the gigantic window. “We’re not even on the ground are we? I don’t see or feel the right threads here.”

<No,> Dulcere answered. <There is no ground. The way-point rests in the void. If it were in orbit around a world, from the surface it would look something like a very small moon.>

“The way-point is a moon?” Wren asked.

<No,> Dulcere asked. <I just used a moon for a size comparison. The way-point is a roughly spherical construct about two of your leagues across. It actually does not orbit a planet the way a moon does. It is stationary above the ecliptic in this star system.>

“I didn’t understand half of what you said,” Bannor said. “But basically it’s a big round hunk of metal floating in the void.”

Dulcere smiled. <Simply put, yes.>

“Simple enough for me,” Daena said with a grin.

“Let’s get to it,” Aarlen said, looking around. “From here you can’t tell the place was over run.”

<No, you can’t,> Dulcere said. <In and around the domiciles is where the most damage was inflicted.> She turned and stepped off the platform heading away from the rail.

“You don’t think there are any warriors still lingering around?” Beia asked.

<If there are,> Dulcere answered heading toward what was obviously a huge hexagonal-shaped door. <They are well hidden, we made several sweeps through the complex.> She stopped in front of a rectangular object situated on the wall, its surface broken into a grid on which different symbols were drawn. She pressed her fingers to the different symbols, causing the squares to depress. The gold woman tapped a pattern of about eight presses, and then a hissing sound came from the massive portal. There was a clunking of metal, then with a humming sound, the door groaned upward slightly and then ground into a recess in the wall.

Dulcere stepped through gesturing everyone to follow. The group trailed along after her, necks craning as they looked around in wonder at this strange place.

The portal opened into a broad passage some ten paces wide with an arched ceiling and lit by a greenish light. Two low waist-high walls sectioned off two narrow strips of the corridor. Dulcere walked to the far side past the second and gestured everyone ahead of her. Aarlen and Beia at the front of the group stepped past her and accelerated down the hall abnormally fast. As he came up behind Wren, Ziedra, and Radian, he noticed that floor of the strip where Aarlen and Beia were walking was moving!

Ziedra paused, frowning at the ground which made a quiet rumbling sound.

<You want to walk this way,> Dulcere advised her. <It’s a hike into the core.>

“It’s safe,” Corim said coming up behind them. “I know it’s strange.” He stepped onto the moving surface and began drifting away down the hall. “See?”

Ziedra frowned. At her husband’s urging she stepped on, closely followed by Radian and then Wren, and they too started drifting away after Corim. Janai, Daena, and Senalloy were watching Bannor. He met Dulcere’s eyes briefly, and stepped onto the strange floor. He leaned forward to keep his balance and started rumbling along with everyone else. Janai and Daena stepped on right after him, followed by Senalloy and Dulcere. After the last person was on, Bannor noticed that the pace of their movement picked up gradually until it was at least as speedy as a fast jog.

“Well, I didn’t expect this,” he said to Janai.

“No,” the princess responded. She looked around at the metal walls rushing past. “It’s interesting and fascinating, but at the same time it seems so—forbidding and cold.”

“I think it’s pretty wizard,” Daena said. “Look at the things these Kriar can do! A road that walks for you; I’ve wanted that more than once!” She grinned.

<We just call them conveyors,> Dulcere said. <People usually don’t walk around out here, so it is the simplest solution. There’s better transport near the hub.>

“Better as in what?” Bannor asked.

<It’s easier to see than explain,> Dulcere answered.

“So, how many people actually live in this place?” Janai asked.

<There are usually about five hundred Kriar and several thousand from other races. At any given time there might be twenty or thirty thousand more because this place is used for commerce. There is what you would consider a market near the hub.>

“Milady, pardon my being forward,” Bannor said. “But I know nothing about your people. I see that young Radian has your semblance, but I sense that he is not of your people. He seems almost as foreign to this place as us.”

<The Kriar are an old race, Bannor,> Dulcere responded. <Most of us are very peaceful and the thought of violence is abhorrent to them. We seek only enlightenment and the pleasures of continuance just like any other culture.>

Bannor raised his chin a bit. “I take it then that while most of you are peaceful, that means the warriors are particularly fierce. You have too much of this artifice magic adapted for battle in you and on your person to be any kind pacifist. That black crossbow-like thing on your hip carries in it enough threads of energy to destroy a town.”

Dulcere looked down the device almost self-consciously. She put her hand on the grip. <There is a warrior caste, and we are few. Most of the regular populous think of us as being—> She frowned. <Less than desirable.>

Bannor shrugged. “Nobody likes a soldier—until there’s an army coming to take over your land. So, I suppose there are bigger versions of that,” He pointed to the device on her hip. “In those void-ships we saw.”

She nodded. <For defense, yes.>

“These Baronian raiders, they came here looking for something—the Genemar—something we guess is a weapon. I am trying to imagine—if they overlook the weapons in those ships—how powerful this thing must be.>

“Oh,” Daena murmured. “Now, I see what you’re getting at.”

“They had several ships like those out there,” Senalloy said. “That’s how they came to this place.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” He looked back to Dulcere. “I’m simply trying to adjust to the scale of things.” He drew a breath. “Part of being a good tracker is knowing something about who or what you are tracking, and what their motives for being in a place are. Around my home, in the mountains, I often tracked poachers—who are basically lawless, lazy hunters, who tend to be sloppy and careless. I would not care about their hunting in my area except they used particularly cruel snares and traps—again lazy and lacking in respect for the animals.” He focused on Senalloy. “If, as Aarlen suggested, we use Senalloy as a model for these people, they move with purpose and order. They have great destructive capabilities, and kill without malice.”

“How do you know it’s without malice, Bannor?” Janai asked, staring at him with wide amber eyes.

He looked away from Senalloy. “It gets in the way of being a good soldier. These people are warriors. A warrior’s passion is their loyalty and dedication to a task. Anything else is a waste of energy.”

“You know, I don’t get that at all from Lady Senalloy, Bannor,” Corim said arms folded.

Bannor looked down. He raised his eyes first to Dulcere, meeting those star-filled black eyes. He did find the gold creature fascinating. There was an appealing tranquility in her aura, a confidence that was not overshadowed by arrogance the way it was in elders like the pantheon lords. His attention went back to violet-eyed and silver-haired Senalloy, big in every sense of the word. She had led a torturous existence, it was written in her threads. She was trying so hard not to be ugly. He found that trait to be an intriguing part of her. Corim didn’t realize what he was missing—this creature was seeking a sort of validation in trying to get the boy to feel for her. Proof that she wasn’t ugly? Not his business.

“Lady Senalloy, did I read the Baronians right?” he asked.

“You did not hear me object,” she answered simply. “Being a soldier is a life. If you live a long time, remorse is too much of a burden.”

“My understanding is that being a warrior is not an option for these people,” Bannor said. “From the highest to the lowest, cradle to grave—everyone fights. The only separation between the castes I’m guessing is who gives orders, who takes orders, and who gets to pick their assignments.”

<I don’t understand,> Dulcere said. <How can you know that? Or at least guess that accurately.>

He sighed. “That is what the Garmtur does. A person’s threads tell a story, the more I study them, the more I know about them in a general sort of way. It’s not like mind reading. It’s just impressions.” He looked up at Senalloy. “She was angry for much of her life, rebellious, and she carries those scars deep in her flesh and her spirit. A military machine abhors rebellion, she suffered a lot for it. She wants to forget, so she focuses on simple things—simple pleasures; good food, nice clothes, jewelry—” He focused on Corim. “You.”

The other warrior staggered as though he’d punched him in the chest.

Bannor turned his attention back to Senalloy. “Pardons, Milady. That was perhaps a bit too direct.”

The Baronian woman smiled. “I am far too old to be stung by the truth. I find your insight and sympathy refreshing.”

“I was forced to be a soldier too,” Bannor said. “I survived—my brother didn’t.”

Bannor felt a kind of a chill and noticed that Dulcere was staring at him. The woman did not appear angry or upset, just perplexed, like she could dig some secret out of him with those powerful eyes.

“Oooh nice,” Wren breathed ahead of them.

The ‘conveyor’ as Dulcere had called it, had brought them to a section of the passage that had long windows cut into the walls, looking out into a dazzlingly bright firmament dappled with stars and whirled lenses of white. The contrast of the void and the stars was so sharp and distinct, and the starlight so pure and constant that the splendor of it made his chest hurt. It was different from the complex beauty of nature, the sparkle of running water, the subtle distinctions of stone and plant, the shimmer and rustle of leaves and branches swayed by a gentle wind. In the lower half of their view was a radiant corona of light that could only be a day-star as viewed from further away.

Though the vision was not familiar to him, he felt drawn to it; a distant kind of affinity. Perhaps it was the Garmtur part of him hearkening back to the cradle of its birth.

“It’s like that time you took me astral traveling from my birth city,” Daena said in an awed voice. “It’s so…” Her voice choked off.

“What’s wrong, Daena?” Janai asked, rubbing the girl’s shoulder.

Daena wiped at her glowing green eyes and sniffed. “It—It just reminded me of how long it’s been since I thought about—about home.” She shook her head. “I never said goodbye, and I doubt anybody even realizes I’m gone.” She looked down. “It’s dumb, but I still feel bad. My aunts never wanted me. I was just a burden to them. I was a burden to everyone…” Her voice trailed off.

The princess put an arm around her and blinked up at her with amber eyes. “You’re not a burden to me.”

The young savant forced a smile and nodded.

“Daena,” Wren said. “You may have lost a home, but you gained a new one, and a lot of brothers and sisters. All of us are children of Gaea. We might growl at one another once in a while.” She gave Ziedra’s shoulder a shake. “But you can’t ignore our kinship, you can always feel it.”

Ziedra brushed at her long black hair and shoved her shoulder against Wren. “Who else but a sister could be so damn annoying.”

The windows ended and so did the moving walkway. Beia and Aarlen stepped off ahead of them. Aarlen touched the band on her wrist and in a flare of light the object transformed into a glittering single-edged blade. Beia reached up to Snowfire and the little dragon wrapped himself around her hand, his body transforming and lengthening into a long black scroll-worked blade. The two of them split up, walking opposite ways around the periphery of the large circular chamber.

Bannor didn’t know why the two were arming themselves until he saw the scorch marks on the floor. Though the air didn’t smell of it, he felt death. People had lost their lives here.

Wren said a word and a dagger appeared in her hand. Ziedra gestured, spoke a word, and a sheathed sword seemed to unfold from the air and drop into her outstretched hands. Radian made a fist and a brilliant lance of light extended from his hand and formed a humming length of crackling energy. They too dispersed and started looking around the area.

Feeling his heart pick up tempo, Bannor pulled one of the axes off his hip.

<I tell you,> Dulcere said. <There are no creatures here.>

Even as Dulcere was uttering the words, Corim was pulling out the sword on his hip. Senalloy removed a ring from her finger and the small item lengthened into a long wedge of what looked like glass. The thing had a handle on it like a sword, and the edges of it glimmered with wicked sharpness. When swung at speed, the transparent body would be all but invisible.

Bannor stepped carefully toward the center of the room, gazing first at the floor, then to the roof and walls. Many of the scorch marks were on the domed ceiling, obviously targeting devices that had been mounted in those positions. The function of the large hall was likely for administration, as there was a circle of counters near the center. There were many benches stationed around the hub area. Raised planters, filled with trees and foliage were situated at five points around the chamber, those having more seating and places to relax.

Bannor looked back to Dulcere. “How much cleaning up have they done here?”

The Kriar frowned. <Just the remains.>

Ziedra leaned down to one of the burned areas and stretched out her hand. “Battle magic,” she said. “How long ago did this happen?”

<Six days,> Dulcere replied.

The dark-haired savant shook her head and let out a breath.

“How many warriors were on duty?” Aarlen asked, bending down to look at one of the benches.

<A light staff,> Dulcere answered. <Thirty. Ten of those were off station when they attacked. No coincidence I’m certain.>

“Did the Baronians take any casualties?” Bannor asked.

<Yes, quite a few, but not enough to stop them.>

Bannor’s attention was drawn away by the unusual sight of Ziedra drifting up to examine one of the burns on the ceiling. The woman seemed as at home in the air as she did on the ground. He’d seen grander things, but there was just something inspiring about that kind of freedom.

He pulled his attention back to focus on looking for clues, doing a slow circuit around the room. He stopped where several of the metal benches had taken damage, one crushed down, another scored and hunks of the padding slashed away and burned.

Leaning down by one of the damaged benches, he tested the metal with his fingers. It was thin, maybe a few thumbnail thicknesses, but the material was surprisingly sturdy, easily able to support a ton or more of weight. He took the mithril edge of his axe and tried to score the metal. Even with effort he couldn’t make a scratch; tough stuff. That had been a lot of force—he could tell by the crumpling that a body had been smashed down with enough power to crush down the bench.

He closed his eyes trying to visualize the battle. There had been an overwhelming number of Baronians, and they had obviously struck by surprise. This chamber served as a common area of sorts. The defenders had fought hard because they were defending non-combatants, trying to get them out of the area.

His attention went to the hovering Ziedra. Flying. That’s how one of the combatants came down with enough force to do that.

Bannor moved from the crushed in bench, seeing the scoring in the floor. The person had hit the bench rolled backward, avoiding sword strokes that had hacked gouges in the floor. He looked toward Radian and the glowing weapon in his hand.

He moved a bit further and saw circular burns in the padding of bench and fused and melted metal. Like a Kriar defending themselves with one of those light-weapons, and having the blade-tip driven down against the bench.

A few more steps to the next bench showed the metal split deep where a blade had slashed deep in the resilient material. He knelt down running his fingers along the ragged gouge created by massive immort strength.

Something glimmered on the floor, a shard of metal. He picked it up and held it in his palm. It was a piece of sword edge. He fingered the material, noting the thin layering. Metal folded several times to give it strength. He sensed strong residual threads. It had been part of a treasured heirloom.

He closed his hand on the shard, sensing for where the traces led. He frowned realizing that the threads ended somewhere close by. Orienting, he followed the emanations toward one of the five large jungle planters.

Bannor looked back, noticing Beia and Aarlen were now shadowing him.

Reaching the planter, he stepped up onto the edge and pushed around through the plants. He saw something shiny, started to reach for it and stopped with his fingers hairs from the object.

“Lady Ziedra,” he called over his shoulder. “Could I have your assistance for a moment?”

The dark-haired woman looked up from her examination of one of the counters and flicked through the air toward him and swooped to a stop right by him. “What do you need, Bannor?” she asked.

He pushed the foliage aside and pointed. “You’re the magic expert. I figured I should let you look before I get my fingers burned.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. She pushed into the plants for a closer look. After a moment she said, “Oooh, good call—nasty.”

She held up a hand, wiggled her fingers and a glove appeared sheathing her skin. She reached out and nudged the thing. There was a rasp and smoke that made Bannor jerk, and Ziedra lurch back.

She shook her hand. “Ow. Really nasty.” She narrowed her eyes and a glow licked around her fingers and she leaned back in. She lifted out a large battle blade, the length of which had been cracked and a large chunk had been taken out of one side.

Sparks and tendrils of energy licked around the woman’s hand, and she gritted her teeth. “Damn this thing is unhappy.” She dropped it on one of the intact benches convulsively where it made a loud thud. “Don’t anyone get too close. It’ll take the life right out of you.”

Dulcere had come up and was staring at the thing hands on hips. <How did the investigators miss something this big?>

“There’s stealth magic on it,” Ziedra said. She looked to Aarlen. “A lot like the magic in a shaladen—really suspiciously similar to it.”

“Damn, I was hoping I’d found a good lead,” Bannor grumbled.

Aarlen looked at him. “Why isn’t this any good?”

Bannor stared at it, frowning. “Because the owner is dead.”

Beia rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s a good reason.”

“This was one of the elites,” Bannor said. “He went one-on-one with one of the Kriar warriors over there.” He pointed. “It was some fight. The Baronian seemed to have the upper hand most of the battle. He must have slipped, missed a block or something. That sword started to break and he had to abandon it.” He pointed to a bench. “That seat over there is cut in half, I’m betting so was the Baronian. I was hoping maybe one of his friends might have carried the sword off, but I guess they just left it where he tossed it.”

“It’s bad luck to touch a defeated man’s equipment,” Senalloy said.

<I must say that your abilities do not disappoint, Bannor,> Dulcere told him. <I hadn’t expected to find any material evidence in this room.>

“If they’ve stealthed all their devices, there could be stuff everywhere,” Aarlen said.

“Think there’s anything to be learned from that sword?” Wren asked walking over to Ziedra.

She folded her arms and stared at the thing. “I’m of the same mind as Bannor—not much good if the guy is dead.” She looked over at Bannor. “It just occurred to me. Did I tell you I was a savant of magic?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Get used to that,” Wren said. “Savants don’t keep many secrets from him. After he’s seen you, he knows where you are, what you’re doing, and what you’ve been up to.” She leaned forward fixing him with a blue-eyed stare. “It’s pretty irritating actually.”

He leaned his head to one side. “It got you out of that cell didn’t it?”

Wren let out a breath and grinned. “Okay, maybe there’s some instances when it’s not so bad…”

<If there’s nothing to be gained here, perhaps we should move on,> Dulcere said. <Unless you think there’s anything else investigation will turn up.>

“I’ve memorized the magical signatures here,” Ziedra said. “Five mages did most of the damage. I’m pretty sure one of them was this dead sword guy.”

“I’ve looked all around,” Daena said. “I didn’t see anything to add.”

<All right then, let’s move on then.> She pointed to an exit on the far side of the chamber.

The group of them filed out into another corridor. As he walked, he thought about Sarai. She would definitely be displeased that he was here. He had to tell her though, or swear Wren, Daena, and Janai to silence. He discarded the silence option. Someone would slip up and he would be in an even worse stew. The question was how to broach it and lose the least skin…

A short distance down the hall, Dulcere stopped at another strange looking door and punched a symbol. After a few moments there was a humming and the featureless door split in half revealing a shallow circular room a little less than three paces across. She gestured everyone in. Again Aarlen and Beia were first in, seeming to know what to expect. Why did she want everyone to go in that tiny room? Corim, Senalloy, and Radian stepped in. The gold man drew his confused wife in behind him. With a shrug Bannor stepped into the cramped quarters, Wren, Daena, and Janai following. Dulcere came in last.

<Don’t be alarmed,> she thought to them. <You will feel the room shudder. That is normal.> She turned and pressed a finger to a grid of symbols like others Bannor had seen.

The doors slid closed with a clunk, followed by a whining sound above them as metal slid on metal. The whole room lurched slightly, and then there was humming and the distinct feeling of falling. Bannor reflexively threw his hand against the doors.

<It is okay,> Dulcere told him. <The chamber is a construct that traverses a shaft that runs up and down the core of the way-point.>

The walls of the room resonated, the sound rising in pitch to a steady whirring.

“A way up and down without stairs?” Daena asked.

<Exactly,> Dulcere answered.

“Wizard,” the girl responded.

Janai was looking around with wide amber eyes. It was clear the princess didn’t think it was ‘wizard’ at all.

“So this is magic for people who don’t have magic,” Wren said.

“It’s not magic,” Aarlen said. “It’s just another kind of science—engineering.”

“What dwarves do is engineering,” Bannor said. “I don’t know what this is.”

“I felt like you did,” Corim said from behind Bannor. “It is as Aarlen says. These are simply artifices that are more evolved than we are used to.”

“It’s not natural,” Ziedra said, eyes on the roof of the enclosure, obviously listening to the sounds around the chamber.

“Well, neither are silk sheets, hot plumbed in water, or jewelry,” Radian told his wife with a grin, eyebrows rising over his blue glowing eyes. “I don’t see you living without any of those.”

“I don’t care for it much either,” Beia admitted. “However, such things are the way of all but ten percent of the worlds. Our way is the minority. I didn’t believe it when Aarlen told me. Then she showed me.” She looked up at the white-haired elder. “We who have and can use magic are rare in the realms.”

The vibrations in the room lessened and the timbre of the sounds grew lower in pitch. The chamber lurched again with a metallic clack and more whining sounds. The double doors slid aside revealing a passage very different from the one where they had entered.

Eager to be out of the Kriar contraption, Bannor stepped out his feet making a creaking sound on the surface underfoot. His stomach tightened as he looked up and down a hexagonal hall cast in a pulsing red illumination. Lenses rotating in crystal orbs on the ceiling cast moving beams of light across the floors and walls of the passage. Tendrils of mist churned around the soles of his boots, bubbling up through the metal grill-work that served as the floor here. An acrid burning smell lingered in the chilly air and his breath made wisps of vapor as he breathed. He didn’t like the feel of this place. The area had been the focus of violence so intense that the walls shivered with it.

Daena stopped by him, her green eyes narrowed.

Janai rubbed her arms. “Why is it so cold?”

<A lot of machinery that maintains the environment was damaged on this level,> Dulcere told them as she came out. <Be careful where you step, some areas have frozen.>

The others filtered into the corridor behind her. When they had all entered the passage, the gold woman clacked off down the hall, her hand on the handle of the weapon on her side.

The corridor made a gentle arc to the right before going through an archway and opening into what looked like a cross between an amphitheatre and a city plaza. The dome-roofed chamber was some three hundred paces across with terraces leading down to a hexagonal central floor. The destroyed remains of what had probably been stalls were scattered along the different levels. Devastation was rampant, it looked like a hurricane had raged in the chamber, metal posts bent at angles, hunks of ruptured plating embedded in the softer materials. Burn marks, melted craters, and shattered equipment pocked the room like lesions in decaying flesh.

“Whoa,” Wren breathed. “Damn, Bannor, it looks like one of your fights.”

He snorted.

“So intense,” Daena muttered.

“A safe guess,” Ziedra said. “They had their backs to the wall in here.”

<If by that you mean they were cornered; yes.> Dulcere answered in a cool tone. She headed down the stairs. <Watch your step.>

Daena leaned down and examined some of the metal. “Damn, these Kriar warriors are powerful stuff.” She eyed what looked like a piece of ceramic. “They were fighting with time too.”

Aarlen and Dulcere turned to her then. Aarlen spoke first. “How do you know that?”

Daena held up the fragment obviously surprised by the elder’s intensity. “Time energy.”

“You’re not a savant of time.”

Daena shrugged. “Well, no… so?”

The elder rolled her silver eyes. “No wonder you’re giving Koass headaches.”

“Chronal senses are very powerful,” Senalloy said, reaching down and touching the piece with her finger. “They are the precursor to being able to time-shift.”

The young savant blinked glowing green eyes and shrugged again. “Relax, I’m not planning any time trips, okay? The idea kinda scares me.”

“Good,” Aarlen said. “Please stay scared.”

Bannor walked through the devastation in awe of the power of both the defenders and the attackers. A handful of Kriar had held off scores of Baronians. Though the damage seemed random, he started seeing a pattern to it. The damage became more intense as the fight focused down to where the a few Kriar had made their last stand.

Stepping gingerly through the wreckage he made his way toward the ‘hot spot’ where their last breaths had been taken. The area was literally hot, the energy still resonating in the materials. He nudged broken swords, hunks of battle staves and shattered bows. These Kriar were not sheep, the Baronians had thrown themselves at this spot in waves, hammering away relentlessly until the Kriar simply did not have the strength to resist anymore. They killed hundreds of their Baronian enemies before being overwhelmed.

Hands pressed together he crouched and looked into the charred and destroyed area of the chamber, feeling the lost spirits of the Kriar who fell here. At the end, their fear had been a palpable thing, hundreds of millennia of life coming to a savage end. Was he sensing that right? Hundreds of millennia? He glanced toward Dulcere. He had intuited that from her, but discounted it. Were these creatures as old as the eternals then? They sure fought like they had that kind of power. The Baronians were more frightening. They seemed to have understood their foe and had worked them over with mechanical efficiency.

As he studied the location, he started to become aware of attention that didn’t belong. His heart picked up speed and his stomach tightened. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. He located every one else in the group, seeing where each person was sifting through the debris. The threads of his observer were well concealed, and the creature situated on a pinnacle of broken metal that did not look like it could support weight.

He couldn’t take any chances, not with creatures this powerful. He whirled snatching up all the creature’s life-threads with a heave and throwing them in a noose around the intruder’s body and yanking the spy down toward him.

There was a surprised yell as something heavy smashed down on the floor with a clang of metal on metal. He felt energy lick through the creature and countered instantly, pinching down on elemental threads and yanking cords of control.

The willpower of the intruder crashed into him with devastating force, knocking him to his knees. Gritting his teeth he bore down, yanking the invisible foe through the debris.

“Be still!” He yelled, struggling and shoving the concealed creature through its threads. “You’ll kill yourself.”

A brilliant red lance of energy emanating from her hand, Dulcere was by him in a twinkle, moving so fast the air cracked. She trained her weapon on the spot only to have another weapon almost identical to it, only blue, sprout from a spot on the ground.

She leaped back out of the sizzling arc of the weapon.

“Damn it,” he gritted. He took a fist full of threads and yanked.

The creature let out an incoherent sound, gasping and stumbling amid the debris.

Wren and Daena rushed in. The blonde savant avoided the lightning quick flash of the blue glowing weapon and threw her arms around an invisible limb.

The savant let out a gasp as blue fire licked around her body, and began rasping and cracking into the floor and broken materials around her. Daena reached down a grabbed something and yanked up. The creature yelled and that blade lashed around. Eyes like green stars the auburn-haired girl smashed a glowing fist into the air in front of her.

The power of the strike sent a cascade of energy rasping and licking around the creature, outlining a smallish humanoid body.

“Stop,” Daena warned. “Or I swear I will crush you in that armor.”

The blade came around again, and Daena made a fist with her free hand and jerked down.

The blade halted as the creature let out another yell.

“Stop it,” Daena said, hand shuddering. The creature was outlined in sparks and rasping energy. “Damn, this guy is tough.”

“Do something!” Wren cried. “This protection is too strong!”

Aarlen waded into the fray. “Desist, now.” She slammed the Shaladen down.

The creature tried to defend with the glowing weapon, but Aarlen’s sword chopped down through it in a dazzling explosion that struck the creature’s body in a rasp of erupting energies.

The blast knocked her backward a half-step, brushing at her eyes. The invisible creature took that opportunity to try to depart again.

Bannor yanked tight on the spy’s threads, dragging Wren and Daena through the debris as well.

“Hey!” Wren squawked.

“Ack!” Daena let out.

“That’s it,” Bannor growled. “I’ve had it.” He’d seen enough of the creature. He threw a couple loops of the creature’s energy threads around its neck. “You try to escape again and the surge will take your head off.” He jerked upward with the threads to bring the creature close. The person grunted and struggled, but couldn’t resist with its threads so tangled and its power being restrained by Wren and Daena. “Make yourself visible now, or I will make you very sorry. Starting by ripping out the threads that allow you to travel in time.”

There was a growl that seemed to come from all around instead of emanating from the creature.

“Have it your way—time powers go.” He doubled his fist in the threads that associated the creature with the underpinnings of eternity and the surrounding chronology. He began to pull.

There was an indescribable shriek of pain. This time he was certain. It was a female cry. He bore down and pulled harder. “Give up. Even if you run, I have a hold of your threads. I’ll just yank you back here.”

With a snort, the creature finally stopped struggling, and relaxed. Its body became a glassy shape that took on darker and darker color, revealing a gold-skinned Kriar woman with green glowing eyes, and a rainbow of jewels encrusting the left side of her angular face. She wore a smooth metallic armor that hugged the contours of her body, the black material rippling like the surface of water. Strapped to her arms and legs were several objects that Bannor’s nola senses told him were weapons. These he yanked out of their holsters in rapid succession. This female possessed frightening potential that in many ways exceeded the pantheon lords. She didn’t have the massive magicks of a god, but she could slip through time and space the way he did through air. He’d been incredibly lucky to snare her before she realized the threat he posed.

<Quasar,> Dulcere’s thought with an incredulous tone. Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head and folded her arms. <What are you up to now, Tarkath?>

Quasar scowled and yanked her arm away from Wren.

Bannor frowned and tightened his grip.

The Kriar’s body quivered and she glared at him, glowing green eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop—doing—that,” she snarled in a breathy voice.

“Stop fighting us,” Bannor said. “Daena, let go of her please.”

The young savant let go of Quasar’s long ebony hair.

The Kriar straightened and pulled her hair away from where Daena could reach it. Her attention focused on Dulcere. “What cradle have you robbed now, Belkirin?” She looked around at the group with an appraising expression.

“They caught you didn’t they?” Aarlen said with a grin. “How many eons has it been since that happened?”

“Several dozen I would think,” Quasar said with a sour expression. Her eyes focused on him. “And what is he?”

“The person who’ll hurt you if you misbehave.”

The Kriar frowned. She pushed against the threads confining her again. He sucked a breath. Her willpower was massive. He was hairs from losing his grip on this creature.

“Are you okay, Bannor?” Wren asked.

“Fine,” he gritted. “For now. Lady Dulcere, I am barely keeping her powers in check. If we could reach some settlement—quickly.”

<Quasar, what are you after?> Dulcere asked.

The other Kriar only stared at her.

Bannor sighed. “It’s obvious. She wants what the Baronians are after. That Genemar thing. Just hoping we’ll lead her to it.”

“I remember Cassin and Annawen mentioning this lady,” Corim said. “They were scared to death of her.”

<For good reason,> Dulcere said. She tilted her head. <The Techstar family is under my protection, as is everyone here. If I do not have your oath of non-aggression—you are not leaving this place.>

“You—kill me?” She snorted. “Little girl, you wouldn’t have the stomach for it.”

Aarlen frowned and brought her Shaladen to Quasar’s throat. “She might not, but you know I do.”

The Kriar swallowed. “I am much more useful alive.”

“You are not worth dren if we can’t trust you.”

“Settlement, soon—please…” Bannor growled, he grunted and winced, his head already ached and the pounding was getting worse. This creature was inexorably wriggling out of his threads, even with her attention focused on them. He’d never experienced something with such strength of spirit.

Aarlen pushed the Shaladen up under Quasar’s chin, pressing hard enough that a clear white fluid began to trickle down her throat. “I will not warn you again. Stop resisting.”

Quasar sighed and the set of her shoulders slumped. The pressure slamming away at Bannor relented. He staggered. Daena caught his shoulder.

Aarlen looked back at him then returned her attention to Quasar. “Answer Dulcere’s question.”

“The Genemar,” Quasar answered simply.

“Why?”

“Because it is the one thing the Jyril fear.”

<You want to bring them down on us?!> Dulcere demanded. <Are you insane?>

“I am not,” Quasar answered. “The Jyril tribe we left behind us have no interest in us. The tribe that made her—” She nodded to Senalloy. “And the ones that attacked here. They are already down on us. If you forget, they attacked the Karanganoi, not the other way around. What will the Fabrista do if they come here? Mew them to death? Our strength is nothing.” She gestured to the room. “Look! This is our strength.”

“It was a hundred-to-one odds,” Bannor said.

“As it will be if they attack Fabrista home-world,” Quasar growled. “A million Baronians; that is just the vanguard. Homeworld has, at best, twenty thousand warriors. The odds are already fifty-to-one and this is just the first wave. Whether the sheep in the counsel wish to acknowledge it or not, we need a deterrent.”

<And who gave you the authority to make this decision for us?> Dulcere asked. <Having that deterrent could escalate matters.>

“The fact that I am not a frightened lamb gives me the authority. I will not allow inaction to doom our people again.” She raised her chin. “I would have thought you had learned your lesson.”

Dulcere flinched as though the words had struck her a physical blow. <After eons of nothing but self-interest, you have the audacity to lecture me? You are in no position to judge either myself or my mother…>

“Ladies,” Bannor interrupted. “I came here to do a job, not listen to two very old people argue over things that I sense are long moot. I promised to try to and find these Baronians and that Genemar thing. If you’ll kindly take your fight out of earshot, perhaps I can focus to track.”

Quasar straightened. “You can find the Genemar?”

He frowned at her. “Possibly. Providing there’s no more interference or headaches.” He rubbed his forehead.

The Kriar’s brow furrowed. She raised her chin and looked at Dulcere sidelong. “Do you believe this youngster?”

The other Kriar stared at her. <Explain how he saw through your stealth field, then ask me again.>

Quasar leaned back, brow furrowing. She tilted her head and looked at Bannor, the jewels down her face gleaming. After a moment, she smiled. “Good point.”

“Quasar, I would prefer you not be here,” Aarlen growled. “But since it would take more energy than it’s worth to make you leave, you can stay as long as there is no further interference.” She looked to Wren and Daena. “If she causes trouble again—you two just smash her flat.”

Wren and Daena both nodded, their faces serious. He remembered what they had done in the battlefield against Tyr. The same effect in this enclosed metal chamber would be devastating.

Quasar shook her head. “Aarlen you’re funny.”

The white-haired woman shrugged. “It’s your life.”

The Kriar eyed Daena. “That one does hit very hard.”

The girl blinked glowing green eyes at her and smiled. “If there’s a next time, don’t expect me to hold still for you.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “If there’s a next time, don’t expect me to pull my punch.”

Bannor shook his head. “I thought only men said things like that.”

Both Daena and the Kriar glanced at him. He turned away to focus on the area. Trying to put the encounter from his mind, he walked around the devastation to the far side. Hunkering down, he concentrated on the debris. Perhaps one of the attackers still lived, leaving behind a broken weapon.

Weapons. His attention flicked back to Quasar. She was a weapon. Dulcere knew her. They spoke to each other with addresses of rank. They were soldiers of the Kriar. That one creature possessed amazing power, yet she was afraid. If a creature like that was scared, the threat posed by these Baronians must be truly massive. Did it really affect him though?

Aarlen’s words from at Falconhall rang in the back of his head.

What if they decide to stay?

He centered himself on the task before him. He couldn’t face the prospect of another war. Especially when this one made even a god-war seem trivial…

Chapter Seven
Precursor

« ^ »

He’s my One, so young, so dear and melodramatic. His passion warms me when my mood darkens, and his devotion is a balm so soothing that I would forgive him nearly anything. It’s a good thing because despite my age, I am not a patient woman and there are times Bannor could test the forbearance of a saint …
—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran,
Third Princess of Malan

His head ached. He had a nagging suspicion that these Baronians knew about aura tracking, because in four separate encounter locations he had yet to find a single article of material that belonged to a combatant who wasn’t dead. It wouldn’t take much, a strip of cloth, a lock of hair, anything that had been in contact with the person for a significant amount of time. Every location was a scene of extraordinary violence and devastation with all kinds of debris yet lacking the smallest traceable remnant. Either these people were extraordinarily tidy, or they were deliberately covering their tracks.

Bannor tossed down the broken dagger fragment with a clunk and rose, running a hand through his hair. He sighed and shook his head. He looked around the heavily buttressed chamber laced with girder-reinforced pipes a pace across rising up to the ceiling like the legs of some monstrous insect. Dulcere had said this was a place where energy was regulated through the way-point station.

The others were spread out through the room each gleaning what they could from the scene. The dark-haired girl, Ziedra, had actually ascertained more about the attackers than himself. She had ‘tasted’ enough of the residual magic to sketch something about four elite war-mages that had apparently coordinated and led the assault. One they had taken to calling ‘Ice’ was a cold character who preferred elemental magick and had a frosty driven resolve, seemed to be the leader. Another they nicknamed ‘Bolt’, he used some kind of crossbow and powerful explosive shafts that they’d found the remains of. The irritating thing was that he had yet to find anything with enough of an aura to track. The other mage Wren dubbed ‘Speed’ because they found his (Her? He had his suspicions from the weight and distribution of the tracks) foot prints in unlikely places, high up the walls and on the ceiling in a couple places. Bannor initially thought it was a mage who could fly until he got a boost and was able to see the unmistakable pressure pattern of a person on the run. The last Baronian Bannor dubbed ‘Stone’, because he seemed to walk to a part of battle and not move. He left deep impressions in the metal flooring as though he weighed tons.

Bannor scrubbed his face and massaged his eyes. He was ready to go home. He wasn’t accomplishing anything here. It was a terrible tragedy, and he wanted to help, but these Baronians were good. They knew their business and had gone about it with ruthless precision. Nowhere did he sense anger or any negative emotion. They obviously expected resistance, and to an extent that he could determine, respected their foes.

“Still nothing?” Aarlen asked.

He let out a weary sigh. “I can’t believe how thorough these people are, they scrubbed every location clean. I’m doing good to sense the personalities of these characters and figure out what they’ve been doing.” He shook his head. “These are some hard people. My guess is they use the one I call ‘Stone’ to take away the Kriar space-jumping power. Everywhere I’ve found his tracks, it’s like he takes root in the metal. He’s binding space somehow. The threads in the floor plates are all kinked as a result of it. Daena mentioned there were strange traces of attractive energy still lingering in the debris.”

Aarlen looked to Senalloy. “Is this new? Were they able to etherlock the Kriar before?”

“Not with one mage,” Senalloy said hands on hips. The silver-haired woman frowned. She took a step and leaned against Corim. “In the assault on Karanganoi Homeworld they had covens of mages whose only purpose was to muck-up teleportation, dimension and time shifting. Doing that takes a lot more power than one person can channel, even a Baronian. So, if there’s someone who can do it solo, it’s new.”

Quasar who’d been silent through majority of his examinations gestured to Bannor. “He did it quite well on his own. Maybe they have someone like him.”

Wren shook her head. “That’s a nightmare I’d prefer not to contemplate.”

“I’m a nightmare now, am I?” he asked with a trace of irritation.

“Lady Senalloy no offense to you,” Wren said holding up a hand to the Baronian lady. “Bannor, these people are killing machines. I’d hate to think of your power under the control of someone that doesn’t feel pain or fear. We’ve already seen that they fight their guts out even when they’re outmatched.”

“I can attest to that,” Corim said.

Radian walked over to Senalloy. “Lady Senalloy, I understand you are Luthice’s sister?”

The Baronian nodded. “I have sister named Luthice who works for Isis.”

“My family has some truck with her,” Radian said. “I have seen her with an object that I believe that she took with her from Karanganoi home-world. A metallic crystalline black staff. The head of the device is a twelve-sided dodecahedron. The material itself looks much like shimmering black metal that lady Quasar is wearing.”

<A Kriar master gate key,> Dulcere interjected with wide eyes.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she had such a thing,” Senalloy responded. “She and I learned a lot about Kriar science from an Engineer we kept hidden from our brothers.” She tilted her head. “So, what of it?”

“Well, one thing I’ve overheard is that lady Luthice can use this device to perform ether-locks like we are discussing. Might these phenomena be the same? There are gate systems here in the way-point that could power such a device, are there not?”

<There are,> Dulcere raised a hand and pointed a finger. <But only a very few Kriar can operate a master key, they…> She stopped and looked at Senalloy. The Baronian looked back at her.

“Can someone translate all that?” Daena asked. “Is that good or bad?”

“One surmises if one Baronian can do it,” Quasar said. “So can another. It also would explain the scrubbing of the chronology that has so vexed all the time scanners. They are using our own equipment against us.”

Bannor frowned. That sounded in keeping with dedicated warriors—know the enemy, their ways and means. “Lady Dulcere, I apologize for not being able to do more. Is there some place else I can examine?”

<Yes,> the Kriar woman answered. <We’ve been attempting to track the Baronians, it appears that is going to be a much more difficult task than we guessed. There is Rakaar’s ship, I don’t know if it will be any better than these, but we would be remiss in not examining it.>

He blew out his cheeks. “Let’s go. I’ll try. I’m disappointed I couldn’t do more, but if they don’t leave something attached to somebody living… there’s not much I can do.”

<You and your friends have done more than our investigators have, and for that alone you have our thanks,> Dulcere told him in her soothing resonant thought voice. <Everyone follow.>

Dulcere led them out of the area and down a passage with heavily reinforced walls. She tapped out a sequence at a massive double door which hissed and split apart revealing a huge fairway angled down like a ramp. Fifty men could easily stand shoulder to shoulder in the cavern of metal that was no less than equal to that distance high. Narrow railed walkways raised a pace above the ramp floor hugged the passage walls.

Their footsteps echoed in the vast chamber as they filed down the walkway. Metallic chugging sounds, hissing, and whirring thrummed through the area. A strange mélange of natural and chemical smells hung in the stuffy air. Bannor saw that sections of the ramp were designed to shift like the moving floor they rode on earlier. Looking up he saw hoist arms and gantries positioned at various locations along the ramp. He guessed it must be all one huge freight depot, probably for moving goods on and off the vessels they had seen in the metal canyon. He saw everyone looking around, impressed but no longer in awe as they had been before. After a bell of walking around, they were growing accustomed to the wonders and scale of the Kriar artifices.

Dulcere stopped at another giant double valve and tapped them through. This became a much tighter passage with pace-wide metal columns reinforcing the ceiling and walls. It went perhaps a dozen paces before ending in another door. She waited until the other door closed behind the last person that happened to be Quasar, before keying the door. This time the room shuddered and Bannor felt a vibration and a kind of swelling in his ears. There was the thrum of metal bolts unlatching, and the doors split with a hiss of air. Beyond, was another short passage that looked identical to the one they’d just left. Dulcere repeated the same process that resulted in the same strange sounds.

The doors opened and when they stepped through they were greeted by a truly staggering vista. The location where they first arrived at the way-point was a niche half way up the canyon wall. Here they were on the floor at the further end of the canyon with half-league high metal walls seeming to lean over them. A flat plane of metal a dozen furlongs long occupied by the huge void ships stretched out before them.

From above it appeared huge, from here on the floor it sucked the breath out of his chest. It was as if they were at the bottom of an empty ocean, the ships like horrendous beached kraken lying dormant in their cradles. He heard the others drawing breaths, eyes wide at the spectacle. Near where they came out of the wall were the fifty pace-high valves for the freight tunnel. As he looked down the canyon wall toward the area that looked into the void, he saw four other tunnel portals. It was hard to accept the scale this place. As he looked along the wall, he noticed low railed half-pace high platforms jutting out from the wall every fifty paces. What were those for?

He discovered he was going to find out as Dulcere headed straight for one. She flipped down a bar that swung down some steps, and hopped up, lifted the bar in the railing and began ushering everyone onto the platform.

Fifth in line as the others clambered up with curious expressions, he had some nagging suspicions about what was going to happen. Quasar stepped up last, pulled the steps up and lowered the movable rail down behind her. She brushed her hair around in front of her, leaned back against the rail and folded her arms.

Dulcere moved to the rail opposite the steps and pressed a finger into a slot in the top of the metal cylinder and pulled down. A small section swung out revealing a matrix of raised symbols that she tapped on. She put a hand on the rail and looked back.

<Take hold of the rail please,> she directed. <We’re going to move.>

Before anyone could protest or ask a question there was a hissing sound, a thump, and low whirring that made the platform vibrate. Bannor’s heart lurched and he grabbed hold of the rail as the whole dais rose off the floor of the canyon and hushed forward with a rumble.

There was a chorus of grunts and gasps of surprise from the people unfamiliar with the phenomenon, as the artifice accelerated to a speed that had the air hissing through his hair.

“Whoa,” Daena breathed. “It’s fast!”

Janai muttered something that was probably an elvish curse.

Aarlen, Beia and Senalloy made no overt reaction, apparently used to such things. Corim frowned, obviously not surprised, but not overly fond of the experience.

Wren gripped the rail with white knuckles, the experience obviously new and not welcome. Ziedra’s dusky skin had paled, and her gold husband had an arm around her saying soothing words.

Bannor glanced back to Quasar. The ancient Kriar warrior lounged against the rail, arms hanging over the back and long-hair flying in the wind of their velocity. Her green eyes were hooded in what looked like a drowse.

She seemed to notice his attention and smiled. With her gold skin glistening with jewels in the light and her long hair flowing out behind her, she was a striking sight.

Her comely appearance only reminded him of how dangerous this creature was. Hecate was only half as dangerous as this female. Quasar was not hampered by insanity, and she had the benefit of a staggering amount of knowledge and experience. Such a thing was disconcerting enough in a creature that was basically peaceful like Dulcere. He had no such illusions about Quasar. The only consolation he had was the fact that Quasar’s main concern seemed more the protection of her people. Of course, that could just be a façade. He sure hoped there was no cause to make her an enemy. He would not catch her again as he had in their initial encounter, this was a person who learned from her mistakes.

The moving platform hissed along, passing underneath the gigantic vessels, silent behemoths with gleaming metallic skin that pulsed with energy. Bannor stared up with a held breath, marveling that such things were possible by creatures without magic.

At the far end of the canyon sat a much smaller vessel. It was still huge by all the standards that Bannor was accustomed to, but it was roughly half the size of the other massive ships. This artifice looked significantly different from the others. It was long and thin with a needle-pointed prow, the wings were more obvious and swept back at sharp angles. The machine’s power source and motive force emanated from four large elongated teardrop structures mounted two above and below the hull. The much larger ships employed only two of those constructs, and this one had four. Everything about the huge machine’s design suggested speed. Now growing familiar with the Kriar, if it looked fast, it probably was… on a scale as staggering as everything else they created.

Dulcere directed their platform to a place directly underneath the speedy-looking vessel, and stopped in a white square painted on the canyon floor. She pulled something black off her side, tapped on it for a moment then aimed the device up toward the belly of the vessel hanging some twenty paces over their heads.

There was a thrumming sound. Sections of the void-ship’s skin lit up. Bright shafts of light radiated from small spherical projections, the beams fanning the area in circles. A line of illumination forming a square lit up. There was a startling blare of what sounded like a horn blasts that began to repeat as the ship’s skin split apart with a hiss, the mechanism whining as arms of metal pivoted out of panels and took up positions above and below the widening gap. When the doors were fully open, lights stabbed down onto the platform, making the whole structure shudder.

<Stand toward the middle of the palette,> Dulcere advised.

Quasar who was leaning off the back didn’t move, the rest did as advised as their conveyance hummed with a gradually higher pitch until it began to rise. Bannor felt his stomach tighten. He did not like flying—even short distances. While in Gladshiem, he’d learned to live with it out of necessity, but still wasn’t fond of it.

They rose at a firm and steady pace, the process obviously designed for moving freight onto and off the ship.

He glanced at Quasar who was still leaning back over the rail. He looked to the opening overhead their platform was rising toward. It seemed small, but he guessed it was exactly the size of their conveyance—anything hanging over the edge would experience a very unpleasant trimming. What was she doing? Didn’t she see? This woman had been around the Kriar artifices for eons, she had to know the hazard…

The edge was approaching and still Quasar had not moved. Everyone else was looking up into the belly of the void ship. The black-clad Kriar hung back over the rail seemingly oblivious to the danger. His breath caught and his heart started to beat faster.

At the last possible instant when she didn’t move, he lunged forward, hooked around her neck and yanked her away from the rail. The jeweled-woman fell forward against his chest, her arms wrapped around him to catch herself.

“What were you doing?” he demanded.

Quasar looked up at him, glowing green-eyes dim, the jewels on her face glinting. She smiled. “Thank you.” She pushed back from him gently. “You are suspicious of me, and I frighten you, yet you acted to defend me.”

He frowned at her. “Of course. Scary or not, you have as much right to live as anyone else. At least until you do something unforgivable.”

The dimly illuminated area looked much like the hold of a sailing vessel except that it was made of metal and far larger than he was used to. The ribbed and reinforced ceiling was still some seven or eight paces up. A caustic burning smell hung in the air, the atmosphere itself stuffy and oppressive. Nets, carrying rigs, and roller carts were flung around the chamber and smashed. Everything lay in a shambles, colored containers made of some shiny fibrous material ripped apart and deformed, the contents spilled across the floor.

The jeweled Kriar stepped forward, turned and lifted the rail, then lifted a second rail that had mated with it when the platform had come up through the skin of the ship. She looked around with serious expression and stepped out into the wreckage and around the rail to make room for the others. Bannor followed her, watching his footing in the shadowy space.

“How do you know I haven’t already done something unforgivable?” she asked, turning back to him and watching as Daena and the others began to file out.

He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t.” He shrugged. “When you said you wanted to protect your people it felt to me like the truth. I saw in you someone who had experienced loss and felt a desire to atone.”

The Kriar woman leaned forward, glowing green eyes narrowing. She reached up and put her hand behind his neck. He leaned back a little, far from trusting this powerful creature.

Quasar’s voice dropped. “And what would you know about that?”

Bannor sighed, looking into the bright gleam of her eyes. “You share a very tangible connection with another. There is a great deal of hurt between yourself and that person. Something you feel is a betrayal, but at the same time feel is justified.”

Quasar raised her chin, eyes narrowing. She drew a breath.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to break down and think there’s something interesting about humans after all?” Aarlen said stopping by Quasar’s shoulder.

The Kriar turned her head and eyed the white-haired elder. “Not at all—he’s not human.” She tilted her head to one side and looked at him. “Tell me, this other person you feel is connected to me. Can you feel them?”

Bannor looked at her and pushed out his lower lip. He closed his eyes. Feeling along the ephemeral threads that connected Quasar to someone who could be no less than a life-mate, bonded to her for what must be eons. The connection was so strong. To be apart from someone so close had to be almost physically painful.

He sighed. It was painful. For both of them. More because Quasar’s mate felt he must be apart. A great disappointment? A fall from grace? No, a betrayal of self.

He swallowed. A person totally devoted to another, following them, supporting them regardless of consequences or wrongness. It hit very close to home for him. The kind of devotion he had to Sarai, drawn out to a relationship of spanning dozens of millennia.

“It hurts,” Bannor said. “He doesn’t want to be apart, but his conscience—it aches. Too long since he did the right thing—?”

Quasar put a hand over Bannor’s mouth, the gold skin of her face darkening. “Stop it.” She leaned forward, green eyes staring in his.

Bannor drew her hand away. “Quasar, he’s hurting terribly.”

The jeweled Kriar frowned. “As do I.”

“He loves you and wants you to give up on—” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Vendetta?”

The Kriar woman drew away from him and turned her back. “I think you came here to study the ship.” She stalked off into the debris-laden area.

Bannor shrugged, his attention going to Dulcere as she stepped off the platform. The Kriar woman glanced toward Quasar, her space-black eyes narrowing. <I guess she’s not used to a youngster being able to see through her like that.>

“She’s lost her anchor. She’s like I would be without Sarai. That’s not a good thing.”

<Indeed. She thought she had lost him, then learned he had not been killed. When she found him, he no longer wanted to be with her. That hurt even more than losing him to death.> Dulcere answered. <Come, let us look around.>

Wren pushed through the group toward him as they began to spread through the hold area. “You okay, Bannor?” she asked. “You looked a little shaken.”

He let out a breath. “I’ll be okay. Saw a little bit more than I was prepared to. She and her mate had a relationship a lot like the one Sarai and I have.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sarai’s ambitions, and me following along…” His voice trailed off.

Wren looked toward where Quasar had gone. “I had no idea you could read people. When did you start being able to do that?”

He shrugged. “I started becoming aware of it after we came back from Gladshiem. With some time to practice control, it’s like another sense—tasting someone’s aura.”

Wren raised an eyebrow. “Interesting analogy. I suppose she’s kind of sour?”

He grinned back. “Wine aged several eons too long.”

Wren flicked a strand hair out of her eyes and looked around with hands on hips. “So, what do you think we should be looking for here?”

Bannor folded his arms and frowned at the devastated hold. “This Rakaar person that stole the item, I assume he used this ship to transport it. The other Baronians tore through this ship looking for the item itself—we’re looking for wherever it might have been hidden.” He walked around, nudging through the debris. Obviously, there had been no fighting here, just a hasty search.

He easily picked out the tall silver-haired Baronian from among the people scanning the wreckage for clues. He walked over to her. “Lady Senalloy, a moment.”

She looked up, violet eyes meeting his. “Of course.”

“You knew this Rakaar well did you not?”

“Better than I would have liked,” she responded with a frown.

“I need to know more about him,” he told her. “Would he have hidden the device near himself, or hidden it in an unlikely location?”

She sighed. “That’s a question I have asked myself. While I knew him, he always guarded his thoughts and actions. He was quite intelligent. He understood people would search for the device and would have been careful in the location of its securing.” She twisted a finger in a strand of her silver hair. “That’s the problem with smart people, they know others will try to analyze them—that bothersome ‘they know, I know’ back and forth. I am certain it was not an obvious location because he and I were on this ship for quite some time with nothing but the void and our own company. I would have seen it.”

Bannor rubbed his chin. “Do you have any idea of the dimensions of this thing?”

“It was not large at all,” she answered. “The one time I think I saw it, he was carrying a cube shaped container with rounded corners about this size.” She held up a small space between her hands. “It was white with black circles painted on each side and a handle in the top. Of course, that was probably just a carrier. So, the object itself is probably something that fit in such a case.”

“All right, let’s start with the most obvious place first—his quarters. Maybe I can follow a chain. Learn something about him, then eliminate unlikely spots.” He looked around and found Dulcere. “I would like to start in Rakaar’s quarters, is that all right?”

The Kriar woman nodded. <Be careful, this ship was not carefully examined, the Baronians may have left behind some traps.>

He nodded to Dulcere and glanced up to Senalloy. The big woman dipped her head, and pointed off to a hatch on the far side of the crowded chamber. She turned and proceeded toward it, Bannor following. Silently, Wren fell in step behind him. Daena and Janai looked up from their examinations and turned to follow as well.

The interior of the void ship was quite cramped, the connecting passages surprisingly narrow given the size of the vessel. They weren’t much more than featureless tubes of metal with smooth walls. He tried to imagine a large squad of Baronians shouldering through the tight confines. The men were huge, half again as wide as himself. An extended stay in these environs would be claustrophobic at best. A big person would try to keep to the open spaces, or areas that gave the illusion of more freedom.

“Lady Senalloy,” Bannor asked as he followed the woman.

“Yes.”

“Was this Rakaar controlling, someone who felt a need to keep things in hand?”

“Absolutely,” she responded, voice echoing as she pulled a bar that unlatched a heavy door that she swung open. She stepped through the opening, paused and looked back, brow furrowing. “Why was that door secured?”

“Is that a problem?” Bannor asked.

“No,” Senalloy answered. “It’s what you should do for safety when the ship is underway.” She frowned. “It’s probably nothing.” She continued on with a shrug.

Bannor glanced back at Wren. The blonde savant was frowning. She, like him, was obviously suspicious of the least little detail. Daena and Janai both shrugged obviously just following along, eyes glowing in the dim corridor.

After a short distance, Senalloy had to free another door that intersected a much broader corridor that angled up in both directions. Here the walls were painted, and there the pulse of Kriar artifice magic hummed through shafts of metal and crystal, casting the area in muted colors.

“This is the starboard gangway, this and one like it on the port side run almost the entire length of the ship. If we get separated, see the blue stripe on the wall?” Everyone nodded. “That indicates a primary passage. A red stripe is engineering access. Stay away from areas that have gold stripe, those may still be secured and you need a special clearance to be in them.” She turned her hand over palm up and pointed to small triangular gem embedded in her flesh.

“Secured meaning what?” Wren asked.

Senalloy took a step down the passage and reached up to a black spherical blister hanging down from the ceiling. “See that? They’re all over the ship. They have devices in them that allow the people in control to visually monitor the passages. There are also weapons inside strong enough to put holes in you. They shouldn’t be active, but every door we’ve come to has been secured, so they might be.”

“We’ll follow you,” Janai said, amber eyes wide. “I for one have absolutely no urge to explore if that might be the case.”

The Baronian woman nodded and turned to sway down the corridor. Bannor followed her, suddenly feeling uneasy. As his footsteps echoed on the metal flooring, he tried to trace the source of the feeling. It wasn’t anything that Senalloy had said or done. The woman seemed totally sincere in her actions, even to the point of warning them of potential dangers. Dulcere warned them about potential traps.

“Lady Senalloy,” he asked. “Might I ask, how you feel about your countrymen?”

The big woman glanced over her shoulder. “I was virtually a slave for two thousand cycles, how would you feel?”

Bannor thought to back off for a moment and decided to press on anyway. “Because one is abused by one part of society, doesn’t mean the whole culture is at fault.”

“Baronian culture is based on exploitation,” she responded in a dark voice. The tone sharp as it echoed in the metal corridor. “Males exploit females except those lucky enough to distinguish themselves in some way that they are endeared to the overlords. Ironically, once they are free they are usually just as exploitative as our male brethren. It is only the edicts and promises to the masters that constrain us such that women receive equal training to the men and opportunity to better themselves.”

“So, you have no loyalty to them, then?”

“To whom, Bannor?” She asked, tossing her silver hair. “The Baronians are servants. We serve the masters. Am I loyal to them? No.”

“I was just asking, in case you might be conflicted about helping us against your own people.”

She met his gaze, violet eyes intense. “Actually, I have plenty of incentive to help you. If they take over things, I am likely to be treated as a deserter who colluded with the enemy.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I’ll pass on that experience. I’m enjoying my freedom. I have a Kriar to nettle, and a pretty young boy to tease. I’m content.”

“Is that all you’re doing?” Janai asked. “Teasing Corim?”

Senalloy raised an eyebrow. “He’s totally infatuated with Dulcere, and she barely has an inkling of how to respond to him. She’s been married to the military too long, not to mention just being simply too old for him.”

Janai laughed. “And you’re not too old, I suppose?”

The Baronian shrugged. “I’m closer to his age. He’s a beautiful sweet boy who has courage and smarts. I’ll only give Dulcere so long to wake up.”

Janai laughed. “Meanwhile, you frustrate her and him with your teasing—making sport of a naïve gentleman.”

The Baronian woman shrugged again. “And wonderful sport it is. Dulcere saw him first, I owe her so I grant her first come privileges. That doesn’t mean I have to make it easy.”

Bannor sighed. “Human, elf, savant, Baronian… women are pretty much the same…”

The girls all shot him looks.

Senalloy stopped at a hatch and stared at the closed door. She put fists on hips. “I don’t understand, I thought Dulcere said that they left the ship as undisturbed as possible so something might be learned.”

“That’s what I was lead to understand,” Bannor said. “I doubt the people searching the ship would have closed every door behind them.”

“They can’t close themselves can they?” Janai said. “I mean this Kriar magic can do everything else.”

“It could, if it were configured that way,” Senalloy said, brow furrowing. “But I configured this ship, Rakaar had little more than rudimentary understanding of the ship’s operation.”

“The Kriar who examined the ship after the attack must have done it then,” Wren said. “Why would anyone else do that?”

Senalloy frowned. “Investigators are supposed to leave things as undisturbed as possible. How can we trust anything we find otherwise? It was bad enough they made us wait several days before letting us in to examine the scene.”

The silver-haired Baronian woman punched on a grid of symbols on the wall and there was a clunking sound. She pulled the lever up and swung the door in. She pointed. “See, this door would have to have been forced without the code. So it had to have been open when the Baronians raided the ship.” Shaking her head she proceeded down the passage past several doors. “These are all crew cabins.”

“They’re all closed too,” Wren said.

“Yes,” Senalloy growled. She turned a corner and gestured around. “Officer’s quarters.”

She stopped at a pair of closed double doors at the end of the passage. Shaking her head, she pressed a sequence of symbols, the door unlatched and she opened it.

Inside was a sizable living area broken into sections. The door opened immediately into a commons decorated with furnishings made into floor and walls. Senalloy stepped aside to let him in first. He stepped into the room and immediately felt a chilly sense of wrongness—of anticipation.

He stepped backward through the door and gripped Senalloy’s shoulder.

Without his saying anything the Baronian seemed to sense his tension, she stiffened and pulled her sword. The others didn’t need explanations but responded by pulling their own weapons.

Bannor understood why the doors had been closed—to slow them down—to give wraiths time to find refuge. He’d felt it earlier but couldn’t identify it—someone had been shadowing them.

He turned to look back down the passage. A ghost was watching them.

Chapter Eight
Ghosts

« ^ »

A curious creature this savant, Bannor. I find him to be in many ways much like my companion Corim. Though he is only a handful of cycles older, he speaks and acts as a person far more life worn. He seems tired. It is a shame that his life has been so harsh that he’s grown old prematurely. I find his insights and tilts on people and things in the universe to be surprisingly enlightened…
—Belkirin Dulcere Val’saedra Starbinder,
Third Mitaka Legion, detached

Heart beating fast and lungs tight, Bannor stared back down the featureless gray hall. He grabbed Janai, and dragged her back and put her behind him. He put a hand on Daena’s shoulder and pulled her close, and did the same with Wren.

He relaxed, partially closing his eyes and used private savant communication. <Daena?>

The girl turned her gaze toward him, glowing green eyes narrowing.

<Wren?> he asked in the blonde savant’s mind.

Wren looked at him. <What’s the matter, what do you sense?>

He concentrated on sending his thoughts into both their minds. <I don’t think all the Baronians left. That’s why all the doors were secured—so we couldn’t sneak up on anyone.>

<So, now what?> Daena asked in his head.

<That repelling trick like you two did in Gladshiem, can you tone that down so they aren’t turned to liquid in these metal halls?>

<Actually,> Daena thought back. <I don’t know how well it will work here in the way-point. This is the most static place I’ve ever been in.>

<All the better,> Bannor answered. <Can you do the whole hall?>

<Sure.>

<What do we do if there is somebody?>

<Take them alive—if possible.>

<Just the five of us?> Wren looked at him with wide eyes.

He grinned at her. <Gods, Baronians, what’s the difference? We’ve got our own Baronian.> He glanced toward Senalloy who stood behind him frowning and alert.

Wren blew out her cheeks. She clenched her fists and took a stance.

<Go.> He told Daena.

The auburn-haired girl drew a breath. She narrowed her eyes and made a sweeping gesture.

Bannor saw the air all down the corridor ripple as though viewed through columns of rising heat. Threads lying dormant in the hall lined up and energy cascaded to a flash.

There was no loud thud like Bannor was hoping for. Instead, what looked like sparks flared from two spots on the wall where the officer’s passage intersected the crew cabin hall.

“Spit,” Wren gasped. “There were people following us!”

Bannor extended his senses through the Garmtur, frantically looking for some thread, some evidence that these creatures existed. He saw nothing. How could Daena affect something that didn’t seem to be there? When the auburn-haired savant cloaked herself, she couldn’t hide her threads. The spy’s new technique hid even that.

The hall filled with a brilliant light that cast stark shadows from Bannor, Daena, and Wren. A thrumming vibrated the decking underneath his feet. He looked back to see Senalloy with a hand thrust up overhead and a brilliant sphere of energy in her hand.

“Down!” the Baronian yelled.

Bannor pulled Wren and Daena to the floor as a blast erupted from the woman’s hand, scorching and writhing down the hall. Bannor felt the power sweep over them like a gust of stinging wind, a pulsating mass of lashing threads that struck sparks and glowing traces off the corridor walls as it shrieked by. The effect did not impact the wall where they’d seen the sparks but went through in a flare of violet light. There were two concussions that rattled the ship. For an instant, all the colors in the hall inverted, black to white and white to black. Eyes narrowed against the glare, Bannor saw threads appear at the end of hall that hadn’t been there before—life threads and magic.

He didn’t have time to be subtle or careful, he snatched hold of all the magic, doubled his fists around the two sources and yanked.

Two bellows of pain echoed through the ship, the sound muffled and distorted by the thick walls.

The two creatures had actually been knocked through the wall of one of the cabins. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them—and they were resisting.

“Get them!” Bannor cried. “Don’t know how long I can hold on!” To punctuate his statement, he heaved again. He heard a crash and a thud as heavy bodies slammed against the bulkhead and made the deck plates vibrate, eliciting angry snarls in some unfamiliar language.

Senalloy launched forward with startling speed, vaulting over their prone bodies and pounding down the short hall in six long strides, boots squealing on the decking as she skidded to a stop and shoved open the cabin door.

Auburn hair flying, Daena thrust herself forward on Senalloy’s heels, Wren scrambling to her feet after.

Senalloy disappeared through the doorway followed immediately by a crack, then a boom as something hammered into the bulkhead.

Bannor saw some of the enemy’s threads of magic beginning to ignite, and he yanked hard, throwing a loop of the creature’s threads around its now detectable form, shaking it from side to side.

There was a bustle as Daena plunged through the opening with Wren close behind.

Bannor winced in empathy as Daena immediately smashed back against the wall by the opening, almost crushing Wren, forcing the blonde savant to duck as the bigger girl thundered into the wall.

Despite the immense force, the girl pushed away from the wall with snarl and shake of her head. Loud impacts of bone on flesh followed large objects clanging against metal.

Janai helped him up as Wren joined the concealed struggle, the progress of the fight traceable by curses and the sound of bodies and walls being pummeled.

The elf woman was biting her palm as each of the three women were slammed into the wall by the doorway. Neither she or Bannor had the kind of physical resilience it would take to subdue opponents that strong. It took all his concentration to keep the two creatures from teleporting away, restraining their magic, and impeding their movements somewhat. He never imagined creatures with such brute tenacity and drive.

It was one thing to talk academically about Senalloy, but to see it, or at least hear it, was a far difference experience.

“Dammit, where are the others?!” he growled. “You could hear this ruckus two continents away!” He couldn’t spare the concentration to call telepathically to Ziedra. They needed the rest of the group. He didn’t want to kill these spies; they needed them for information! “Can you find your way back to the others?” he said to Janai.

“I could,” the princess responded. “But I do not think I should. In fact—” She raised her hands and began chanting in a sing-songy voice. She made a sweeping gesture that made the air around them pulsate and glow. “We should be on our guard. Those two might not be the only spies.”

Twice more Bannor had to heave on the magic of the two creatures to prevent their magic. Damn, he was going to have a headache later. Whenever he used the Garmtur against creatures that could resist, he usually got a bad case of backlash for his trouble.

The pounding and yells reached a peak, prompting Janai to grip Bannor’s arm, face screwed up in empathy. Finally, there were two horrific crashes one followed by another and the noise stopped.

Quiet.

“Carellion,” Janai breathed. “What…”

Bannor’s stomach was tight. The threads he had been holding on the two creatures had gone slack. His heart, already beating fast, tightened. He started to move forward when Senalloy staggered into view at the doorway.

The tall silver-haired woman looked like she’d been run over by a rhinotaur, lip split, nose bloody and bent, cheeks cut and swelling. Breathing heavily, she trudged forward rubbing the top of her head and grimacing. Behind her, she drug a broad form across the deck.

“Milady?” Bannor asked.

Senalloy held up a hand for quiet. She continued to labor forward towing a large broad-shouldered male dressed in black armor that looked much like the metallic uniform that Quasar wore. When she’d gotten him all the way across the hall, she let go of his collar, causing the back of his head to dribble on the metallic floor. The giant man looked every bit as battered as Senalloy, and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm—he was still alive.

Gasping, Senalloy fell against the wall and slid down with a groan.

“What—”

The Baronian woman pointed back to the doorway where she’d appeared.

Daena stood in the doorway taking heaving breaths. The auburn-haired savant turned first one looked just as battered as Senalloy, her bronzed skin discolored and split in places.

“By Carellion,” Janai let out, rushing forward as the big girl stumbled forward with a burden scraping along the metal plates in tow behind her. She had in her grip another huge male also dressed in the close fitting black armor. She dropped him face down next to the first.

The girl hit the wall by Senalloy and slid down. A circle around one glowing green eye was already growing dark. “Urgh.” Daena muttered. She coughed, covering her mouth and frowned at the blood that splattered on her skin. She rubbed at her obviously broken nose. “When I told Koass I wanted excitement, I’m not sure this is what I had in mind.”

“I know it wasn’t what I was thinking!” Wren gasped at the doorway. The blonde savant didn’t look as battered as the other two. Her hair was all in disarray and her clothing was torn. She rubbed a big bruise on her forehead. “I’m on vacation from this kind of drek.”

Bannor went forward and took her hand. Wren amazed him, how could that little woman leap into a fray like that and walk away? She might weigh all of six stone, all gristle and muscle but still a flesh and blood breakable mortal.

He helped her sit down. The woman leaned against the wall with a moan.

She shook her head. “And you were leaning into them with the Garmtur, disrupting their powers, right?” She asked him.

He nodded.

Wren thumped her head against the wall with a weary groan. She blew out her cheeks. “If that’s the case, we might as well give up. If they’ve got a million guys like that—there’s just no way.”

“You did good,” Senalloy grunted. She picked up Daena’s hand and laced her fingers with the girl’s.

“Good?” Daena said. “I hit the wall more often than I hit him. If you hadn’t been there, he would have knocked the stuffing out of me. Ugh.”

“They are experienced warriors,” Senalloy said.

“Should we just be sitting here congratulating ourselves?” Janai asked, hands on hips. “There could be others around, might there not?”

“There might be, but I’m not moving for a little bit.” Daena said, working her jaw side-to-side and rubbing her bruised cheek. “I need time to heal. Those guys hit hard.” She blew out a breath. “I thought valkyries were bad—”

Bannor threw up a hand to stop her and Daena subsided instantly. He felt life-threads of several creatures approaching fast. He dragged on the arm of one of the fallen warriors and discovered he wasn’t moving the heavy body anywhere. The huge creature easily weighed twenty stone.

He braced with the Garmtur as at least four sets of feet pounded the decking toward them. He relaxed as the first person into view was white-haired Aarlen followed closely by Beia, Dulcere, and Corim. Ziedra and her husband Radian brought up the rear.

Aarlen looked at the two huge males and ran a hand through her hair with a raised eyebrow. Corim let out a whistle and shook his head.

<Do any of you need immediate medical attention?> Dulcere asked them, face expressing concern as she saw the pounded countenances of Senalloy and Daena.

“A little healing would be nice,” Senalloy muttered. “I would heal myself but my head hurts too much.”

“I was going to ask if you subdued them with your face,” Aarlen remarked with a dry tone.

“It has been some time since I sparred an opponent with this level of skill,” Senalloy responded. “It is a good thing that Bannor and Wren were able to limit their effectiveness or they would have escaped.”

“That armor looks a lot like what Quasar is wearing,” Ziedra remarked, coming over to kneel by Wren, and examine her bruised forehead. “It’s magic though.”

“It’s very much like my armor, an early prototype perhaps,” Quasar responded strolling up the corridor. “Should they be able to do that; add magic to Kriar artifices?”

“The only thing stopping them would be magical taboos, but nothing else,” Aarlen answered. “We better strip them and get these two in stasis so they can’t kill themselves or do something equally unfortunate.”

Dulcere stiffened abruptly and looked around. The tone of her thoughts became sharper and more urgent. <Aarlen, have Koass pull you and the prisoners out immediately, there is a threat.>

Aarlen’s silver eyes widened, the white-haired elder already had her Shaladen out. She leaped to a spot between the two huge creatures and raised the weapon.

With Dulcere’s warning, Bannor was alert when the attack aimed at Aarlen came. A torrent of magical threads meant to bind and snare flooded down the passage toward them in brilliant golden haze.

Bannor leaped into the path of the magic and threw all his will and the power of the Garmtur behind deflecting the assault.

The strike hit him like a hammer, burning and tearing, trying to grip and crush.

The titanic rush of power cascaded into the walls, scorching and ripping, causing traces of molten metal to spray sizzling onto the decking.

Continuing to deflect the massive outpouring of magick, Bannor realized that Aarlen still stood behind him, silver eyes wide.

“Go!” He screamed.

His word shocked the elder woman into action.

She and the two prisoners vanished.

Already tired from the fight earlier, Bannor already felt his resolve crumbling against their new unseen adversary. The atmosphere was so full of threads that he couldn’t see through the torrent to find the source of the attack. Even if he could, he was using all his strength simply to keep everyone in the corridor from being bound.

He jerked in surprise as an arm slipped around his waist and a warm body pressed in close to him and held up a slender long-nailed hand between his outstretched arms.

The savage pressure crushing down on him lessened, or to be more precise the dark-haired girl Ziedra, already shuddering with the effort was taking up part of the load.

He still couldn’t see through the onslaught to the enemy. He strove with all his strength to drive back the barrage.

Another body slipped in close to his, and put an arm around him, free hand thrust into the maelstrom. The newcomer immediately grew hot against his skin, and he felt a surprising jolt of strength surge through him. His weakening legs firmed.

“Damn,” he heard Wren growl. “How—many—are there?!”

“Can’t—tell,” he gritted back.

“Shut up—and—push,” Ziedra snarled.

He heard explosions, saw bodies flash by, but was so busy concentrating he couldn’t really tell what was happening.

He felt another hand shove against his shoulder. A flood of vitality burst through him. “Get them, Bannor,” he heard Daena growl.

Strength was no longer an issue. He had a first one lending her limitless life force to him. Wren was protecting them with her force Nola, and Ziedra was guarding them from magic. He’d never felt so powerful and overwhelmed at the same time.

Bannor decided to ignore their attacker for the moment, and drew on the strength given him. He tightened his links to eternity and to Wren, Ziedra, and Daena, sharing and balancing their efforts and pushing the Garmtur into them.

Wren and Ziedra firmed up at his sides, their resistance to the attack growing as he gave them the Garmtur’s strength. He added Daena to the sharing, pushing his power into her and sharing hers with the other two.

Binding the four of them together sent a jolt through the group, Wren and Ziedra seemed to actually grow, and their bodies gleamed as though lit from within.

“Whoa,” Wren let out.

“Lords,” Ziedra gasped.

“Uhhm,” Daena made a pleased sound.

Bannor didn’t know exactly how, but the unity of the four of them was far stronger than the individual parts. He felt Daena’s immortal vitality like hardened armor around his limbs. The Garmtur had come alive in a way totally new to him. He had always felt connected to other savants, but he had never tried to connect them with each other. Now acting as the hub, he felt their powers working through him, and his through them. Each woman was a reflection of all their powers combined, four now had the potential of sixteen.

The new potential showed because they began to repel the attack, driving it back. Bannor felt the enemy struggling now. The metal walls of the corridor glowed red with heat. Wren’s force savant powers just soaked up the energy, and fed the power to Daena’s energy-hungry body.

Daena was more than a savant, she was a first one with their near limitless potential, the joining and extra energy simply fortified the girl until she seemed like a titan bracing them against the enemy.

With enough energy to spare, Bannor began to push through the hail of magic and energy toward its author. Even with all the assistance of the other three, it was no easy task. He was going to have a massive headache—provided they survived. He sensed that a fierce battle was going on around them.

Drawing a breath, he decided that the time for caution and carefulness was over.

<On three,> he gritted into everyone’s mind. <Tighten everything down to the center and push.>

The women didn’t respond with words, but he sensed their acknowledgements.

<One—two—three!> On three, he redoubled his efforts, narrowing his lunge down a needle-point thrust into the source of the attack.

He had expected a hefty push, but not the titanic shove that drove through him in an explosive out-pour. The blast actually knocked him backward, making Daena, Wren, and Ziedra reel off balance.

Somewhere down the corridor there was a brief shriek as something momentarily resisted that massive pulse before disintegrating under its intolerable force. The power of their strike did not stop but stabbed through the hull of the ship like a needle through cloth, vaporizing a man-sized hole clear through twenty-paces of bulkheads to the outside of the ship.

Horns blared and lights spun overhead, an icy-mist began pouring into the compartments.

The ferocity of their counterattack seemed to stun not only them but the entire chamber where combat was underway. Dulcere, Quasar, Beia, Corim, Radian and Senalloy, and Janai had broken away from four huge figures that had to be Baronians like the two Aarlen took away. In the center of the chamber were melted fragments of metal, shreds of cloth, and blood that were the remains of the group of at least four mages who had been working together to bind them.

Four down, only a hundred thousand or so to go.

The massive creatures were uniformly large and burly but there the similarities stopped, each male as different from each another as any of Bannor’s new friends. All of them had various rank and campaign tattoos on their faces, in different colors that made their countenances that much more imposing. Hair varied from waist length to shaved bald. Each male wore an amalgam of armor and clothing, favoring dark colors hard to see in the dark metal confines of the Kriar artifices. The males already glistened with sweat and were bloody from the short exchange, clothing torn and burned.

Opposite the Baronians, Dulcere, Quasar and Radian stood together blades of light burning in their hands, a red haze shimmering on the surface of their gold skin. Corim and Beia stood together breathing heavily, swords bared and feet braced. Huge Senalloy with her crystal sword in one hand and a torn piece of cloth in the other stood in front of Janai who held a tall glowing bow in her hand.

Bannor saw the scene and just didn’t see the point in taking the chance that someone would get killed or seriously injured.

He yelled to be heard over the crackling of flames and the blare of horns. He gripped the axe on his side. “Fellows, a tactical retreat seems your best option right now. The balance just swung way out of your favor. You tried. You lost. Leave.”

Still eying their opponents, one of the Baronians, one with long braided hair and a black stripe of make-up painted across his eyes to make him look more fierce, fixed Bannor with an icy stare. He looked at the creature’s threads. Here was an entity that did not fear death or pain. There was only one thing it could truly be said to shrink from—and that was failure. Like now. The emotion was so strong that Bannor could almost taste its bitterness in his own mouth. The Baronian’s stare held in it no malice, no anger, just calculation—weighing odds and options. Bannor had met all kinds of creatures, powerful, angry, hateful, evil and insane—none of them struck a cord of unease in him like this individual; a mind and body under rigid control driven by a stark determination to complete a mission.

After a long moment, his eyes never leaving Bannor, the long-haired Baronian shoved his sword into its sheath over his back. He raised his chin and made a fist in front of himself. “Voldrax,” he said in booming voice.

“Bannor,” he answered.

Voldrax nodded. He looked to the others who put their weapons away, but still remained at the ready. The Baronian glanced at Dulcere and Quasar, his expression hardening. He made a gesture that was very obviously a salute, a dip of the head and a slice of the hand toward his chest. Abruptly, he and the others were gone in a flash of bluish light.

“And why exactly did we let them go?” Wren demanded.

“Because, we have what we came for.”

“Huh?”

Bannor pointed to the panting Senalloy, and the torn cloth gripped in her hand. The Baronian woman looked down at her hand and held up what must be the bloody sleeve of one of the warriors. The fierce expression on her face melted to one of surprise as she looked at the fabric.

“Lady Dulcere,” Bannor said. “I hope you’ll forgive me exceeding my authority there. Those men were not going to surrender, and they were willing to kill themselves to do us as much harm as possible.”

Dulcere nodded and leaned over to see the cloth in Senalloy’s hand. <No, I think it was a good decision. I think we should leave straightaway—they may come back with reinforcements.>

“Please,” Bannor said. “That was my next suggestion.”

Dulcere’s gaze went to the hole in the hull, and the frosty-mist pouring down around them. <Come, gather around, we will leave directly.>

In a matter of moments, they were back in Eternity’s heart and the ladies were thumping him on the shoulder for his success. Despite their apparent victory, he couldn’t shake the look he had seen in the Baronian Voldrax’s eyes.

They would meet again.

Chapter Nine
Ring

« ^ »

For the first time in more than a dozen millennia I hesitated—besides making me feel less than bright it really expressed my surprise and awe at the power of one obviously so young and raw. He saved my life and for that I owe him, and there are few I owe anything other than paybacks. He bears watching, this youngster and his soon-to-be offspring even more…
—Supreme Magestrix Aarlen Frielos,
Minister of the 4th Alliance Territories

The adventure at the Kriar way-point left Bannor with a number of feelings, most of them good. What little craving for excitement that had lingered in the back of his head had been well satisfied. For the first time since discovering his identity as the Garmtur, he had been able to help someone when it wasn’t out of necessity. He had rationally chosen to go to the way-point and help in the investigation. While the exploration wasn’t the most comfortable of his life, he could honestly reflect and say that it was probably the least painful of his learning experiences. He witnessed truly amazing phenomena and his already healthy respect for the diversity of the universe had been forced to encompass an even grander scope than he imagined. Most importantly, he learned something crucial about his own nature that in all his introspection he never even caught an inkling of; the function of the Garmtur as a catalyst.

For some fortnights he’d known about his connection with other savants. From talking with the others they all felt the kinship, but not as strongly as he did. He had used that kinship on several occasions to great effect, but never like today. In other situations, there simply hadn’t been an occasion to try, but this time for whatever reason he had instinctively chosen to try and interconnect the other savants—to act as a kind of conduit. He would be some time yet reflecting on the significance of what occurred. It was obviously no accident. Strangely, Wren and Ziedra had been surprised by it, but not confused or hesitant, they almost immediately grasped what was going on as though they had experienced it before.

Back at Eternity’s Heart Aarlen was waiting for them. The giant white-haired elder had thanked him, and came as close to an apology as someone of her age and station can come. The cool and aloof Dulcere expressed her gratitude more than once, and apologized multiple times for the danger she had placed them in. The capture of the two Baronian spies was a giant break in the mystery surrounding the Genemar. Her only regret was the situation had prevented him from searching Rakaar’s quarters and potentially learning even more. She had respectfully requested his services again at such a time that they had made the area more secure. He acquiesced with some reluctance, not really wanting to commit to the obvious problem posed by the Baronians and their search for the Genemar.

The lady had mentioned something intriguing. She told him that she heard that he was having difficulties learning all the necessities for his wedding. She offered that in return for his help, she could rectify his knowledge deficiency. How she found out about his situation with learning all the elven ceremony requirements, he didn’t know, but having seen all the other Kriar magic it wouldn’t surprise him if they had some miraculous way of teaching. Drink a potion and learn to dance, or something equally unlikely. Given the poor results he was having with the maestro and those stupid pipes, he might have to take Dulcere up on her offer simply so he didn’t embarrass the entire T’Evagduran family.

Aarlen’s magic unfolded from around them like the petals of giant glittering flower, the sparkles drifting away on a fragrant late-afternoon breeze still warmed by the tangerine glow of a setting sun. The tower chimes were playing as the organic tapestry of the city and the citadel magically stitched itself into their view. The whole group had come to see them off, and the first-comers to Malan made appreciative humming sounds as they looked around. Bannor wasn’t positive why all of them had chosen to make the journey to Malan, but he suspected it was simply to know where they could find he, Daena, and Wren.

With the vine-shrouded gates of Green Run looming over them, they had a considerable audience to the view their appearance. At least fifty elven ladies and gentlemen, standing and sitting along the cobbled path paused to gaze at them in surprise. The silver crested and armored gate guards got over their shock in instants and were lowering their weapons.

With a gasp, Janai jumped between them and the group holding up a hand. “Praelor Din’Ae, Praelor Qui’Tah, distrika!”

Called by name, the two burly elves drew back from the princess with nods and bows.

Hands behind her back, gold-skinned Dulcere looked down the tree-shrouded paths, an obvious longing in her smiling expression. <It looks so peaceful, like it is said the cities of our progenitors appeared. So alive.>

“I have never been to the capital,” Corim said. His gaze turning down-slope to the metropolis hidden among the trees. “The elves never fail to amaze with their artistry. You have to look twice to pick out the buildings.”

“So, this is why you’ve been hiding yourself?” Ziedra asked Wren with hands on hips. “Didn’t want to share your secret vacation spot? It’s so beautiful!” She looked to Janai. “Arminwen, do you suppose the Pegasus of Corwin would be well received here?”

Janai turned her head to one side. “The Pegasus? I heard the Baron’s prize dancer died… had her head chopped off or some such.”

Ziedra ran a hand through her long black tresses. “Her head is still on her shoulders, right here where it belongs.” She rose up to balance on a single toe and did a graceful pirouette. She winked at Janai. “I’m not as young as I used to be, but my repertoire is considerably improved.” She drifted into the air and did a slow turn.

Janai smiled. “Ah. Lady Ziedra, is that your way of requesting lodgings?”

The dark-haired woman colored a little. “Actually, yes. For myself, and my husband of course.”

“Then it is done,” Janai returned with a nod. “Wren’s friends of are course ours, and I already feel us comrades.”

“Going to keep an eye on me, eh?” Wren said with a raised eyebrow to Ziedra.

The dark-haired woman stared right at Wren. “Exactly.”

The blonde savant sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, Mother and Father will be glad to see you. They’d been wondering…”

“Well, it all looks under control,” Aarlen said. “Good luck on your wedding, Bannor. I suspect we’ll be in contact soon, hopefully we won’t need your services… but there’s always that chance.”

“Yes,” Bannor answered. “Good luck to you too.”

Aarlen nodded as did Beia and the two vanished in a flash of light.

Senalloy was looking around, obviously appreciating the scenery. She turned to Corim. “Any reason we can’t stay here? Between the Kriar dormitories, those cramped quarters at the school, and that droll little apartment, I am ready for a change.”

“It’s expensive here in Malan,” Corim said with a frown. “The Shael Dal don’t pay a stipend, and I haven’t the time to teach any classes…”

The tall Baronian woman rolled her eyes. She pulled off one of her rings, stepped over to Janai and leaned close with the ring held out. “Think this would get us some lodging hereabouts?”

The princess took the ring, and examined it with narrowed eyes. “Nice. Yes, this will buy you guest quarters in the south wing for a fortnight.” She grinned. “Provided you’re willing to teach me that revealing spell you cast today.”

Senalloy tilted her head. “Are you advanced enough in your studies to learn such a spell? It’s is not an easy one.”

Janai glanced around. She eyed Daena and Bannor. “I’m willing to risk it.” She slipped the ring on her finger.

The Baronian shrugged. “All right.”

The princess turned to the Kriar woman. “Lady Dulcere? Will you be joining us?”

The Kriar seemed caught by surprise. She turned toward the princess. <I—> She glanced at Corim, then to Senalloy who was leaning against him as usual. She frowned. After a pause, she said. <Wouldn’t your people be upset by my appearance?>

Janai leaned back with folded arms. Her gaze turned to Daena. She ran her hand through the girl’s thick auburn hair above the young woman’s glowing green eyes. “They grew accustomed to Daena. I don’t know why they couldn’t get used to yours. That gold-skin will be envied to be certain.” She looked around. “It seems to me that you spend too much time enclosed in those metal walls.”

Dulcere looked out to the sun and sighed. <You are right, I do. I often find myself longing for the touch of real sunlight. The semblance and smell of this place are very pleasing to me.>

“Then it’s settled,” Janai said. “You can be my guest, if you don’t mind humoring me and my family with a tale or two.”

Dulcere bowed. <That’s extremely generous of you, Princess, if tales are all you will have of me, then they are yours. I hope you are not bored easily.>

“Something tells me, there’s an exciting bit or two to share,” Janai responded, glancing at Corim with a grin. “There is one condition to your stay though.”

The Kriar raised an eyebrow.

“You can’t wear—” She pointed at Dulcere’s skin-tight uniform which looked painted on her skin. “Whatever that is—around the castle. We would prefer something a little more decorative and a little less obvious.”

The gold woman looked down at herself and her brow furrowed. <If you wish. This is just my standard uniform.>

“Well, the ‘standard uniform’ doesn’t leave enough to the imagination.” The elf woman smiled. “Trust me.” She held out her hand. “Come. I need to inform the servants.”

The princess gestured and the guards opened the gates for them, and allowed them to enter the sweet-smelling precincts of Green Run.

Bannor trailed along, listening to the fluted tinkling of water from the various fountains and water troughs along the walk. He reached into his pocket and verified the ring that Senalloy gave him was still there. That would go a long way toward smoothing things over with Sarai and salving some of his misgivings about not being able to afford something nice for their wedding. He had actually used his new abilities to benefit someone, and get something tangible and nice for a lady who had practically everything.

He found it convenient that Janai had found something to distract her from whatever machinations she was working in Coormeer. He was fairly certain that she was running amok simply for diversion’s sake, giving herself and Daena something to do. With these new guests to keep her occupied and entertained, she’d stay out of trouble, at least for a little while. She seemed fascinated by Dulcere. He had to admit that the gold woman had a strange allure… those dark eyes had witnessed such a vast amount of time yet she still seemed approachable. Senalloy was the same way. He guessed that was part of their appeal, great elders without the off-putting arrogance usually associated with creatures that ancient.

“Bannor?”

“Hmmm?” He turned, surprised to hear Wren’s voice.

The blonde savant walked along next to him, hands behind her back. She had a speculative expression on her face. “Quite a day, wasn’t it?”

He leaned his head back. “I’ve had worse. We both have.”

She blew out her cheeks. “Well, that’s certainly true. What I meant was, what did you think of all the things you saw? Weren’t you amazed? I’d already seen some of it, and I think I reacted more than you did.”

Bannor’s brow furrowed. “I was amazed. Didn’t it show? The Kriar magic was impressive. I think what caught me the most was looking out the windows of the moving walk—seeing the stars in a way we’ll never be able to see them looking up from the ground.” He gazed up at the sky. “You know, I don’t know why, but there was a part of me that seemed to be coming home… As strange as it was, I didn’t feel uncomfortable or afraid. I guess it’s because I see more with the Garmtur now than with my vision.” He dropped his gaze to meet Wren’s ghostly blue eyes. “You know, there are few days that go by that I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you for helping me find that ability in myself.”

She grinned. “I’m certain it’s equal parts. I’ve cursed myself for being born more than once—being a savant usually isn’t much fun.”

He pointed a finger at her. “We helped them today.” He rubbed his sore head. “We got beat up, but we accomplished something I think.”

“We did,” Wren agreed with a nod. “I was very impressed with you, by the way. I’ve never seen you—like that.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. “That’s because when we’re together someone is usually trying to kill both of us—and we’re both doing our best just trying not to die. Not that today was much different. Someone did try to kill us…” His voice trailed off. “Before then, it was me being border marshal, investigating a crime, trying to track down the bad guys… I mean that’s my job… or it was…” He sighed. He looked around at the huge archway, as they proceeded up the steps together, the doors being opened for them by the guards. His voice and footsteps echoed in the marble hall as he spoke. “I have no idea what my job is now.”

Janai looked back from the head of the procession with a grin. “Why brother, your job is will be to look pretty and lay at the feet of my sister, of course.”

He frowned at the princess.

The princess looked chastened by his expression. “Bannor—I was teasing.”

“I know.” His tone sounded more flat than he meant it to, likely because she simply echoed what a dissatisfied part of himself had been saying for more than fortnight. How could he possibly fit in here? He didn’t know anything. He had to learn everything, and there was no possible way to catch up with elves with hundreds of summers of experience and training.

“Bannor, I have no idea what you’re frowning for,” Wren said. “Your situation is hardly different from the one I was in five or six summers ago. I came back to my mother and father, the baron and baroness—I didn’t know them…I didn’t know how to be their daughter, and I sure as Hades didn’t know how to be some titled Baron’s daughter with all that entailed. Kick something in the teeth, stick a knife in the enemy’s eye, sure—I know how to do that… but be a diplomat to visiting dignitaries?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d never even worn ball gown much less attended one…”

Ziedra nudged her with a superior expression. “Weren’t you glad I was there, hmmm?”

Wren let out an exasperated sound and smacked her friend’s shoulder. “What! All you did was get me embarrassed!”

Ziedra grinned. “Can I help it if you’re so gullible?”

Wren looked to Bannor and scowled. “It was fortnights before I figured out why people looked at me so funny at the formal banquets, this thing with the damn forks and spoons…” Her face turned red and she glared at Ziedra. “It still makes me mad sometimes. I think it was worse because Mother and Father let it go on… it wasn’t that funny…”

Bannor shook his head. It hit too close to home for him. He was already having trials just like those.

Wren put a hand on his shoulder. “You do get the hang of it though. That’s the thing about us savants—we’re smart…” She shot a wounded look at Ziedra, who tried to look innocent in return. “Perhaps not wise… but we are smart… and we figure things out eventually.”

“Yes,” Bannor agreed half-hearted. She was right, of course. It was simply a battle that, for whatever reason, sucked more strength out of him than fighting a dozen demons.

As they wound down through the structure and into the inner courtyard, Bannor watched their guests. Dulcere was moving slowly, space black eyes hooded and expression somewhat dreamy, hands occasionally touching the decorative rocks, trees, and plants, slowing to listen to the melodies of the wind chimes, birds and the gurgling water than ran beneath the decorative arched bridges.

The ancient creature might be used to living inside walls of metal, but it was obvious that she had a heartfelt appreciation for nature and beauty.

His attention went to giant silver-haired Senalloy, swaying through the garden. Here was a creature made and designed to fight—that and make babies. The creatures that designed the Baronians were anything but subtle. After seeing enough of them, he’d come to the conclusion that Senalloy and the others were not a natural product—somewhere in their past, somehow some creatures with the power of creation designed a being that excelled in war and conquering.

The Baronians.

They had succeeded too. A creature that was powerful, determined, with an inherent sense of honor, not because honor helped in war but because honor inspired respect and trust—which in turn encouraged team-work. These creatures were highly adaptable, individualistic enough to be solo operatives, but with enough social dependence to work well in groups. The more amazing part to him was not all of Senalloy’s evolution, but that he could look at her now and know all those details about her people. When did the Garmtur start working like that in him?

Being a warrior by nature and upbringing apparently did not keep the silver-haired woman from appreciating the creative work of the elves. Where Dulcere was serenely soaking it up, the big lady was more demonstrative, bowing over the flowers to sniff them, dipping her hand into the waters, and caressing the carved wood. Perhaps, that was even more amazing, how could a creature capable of such violence be in turn so gentle? She had been mistreated most of her life. She knew little but captivity and hostility. The natural outcome of decades of mistreatment like that should be a person meaner than a hungry fang-snout with a toothache.

Did the Baronians internalize that anger somehow and focus it at need? Was it another adaptation—a defense mechanism? A creature designed for war would have to thrive on adversity, practically feed on it. Did that mean their society mistreated the women on purpose? It made them meaner, or if his thinking was correct, it gave them fuel—a frustrated rage to focus on the enemy. He guessed having that rage focused back against society was a natural hazard of the process.

Watching Janai work was a marvel. Chatting with all the guests, making everyone smile. The elf lady had extraordinary talent, able to put even the most aloof person at ease. He could tell from the glint in her amber eyes that she already had some scheme in mind. That was another thing that amazed him—he could see all those details in Senalloy, but never seemed to be able to figure out what Janai was up to…

It was close to five bells when he finally returned to the quarters he shared with Sarai. Though it had been close to three moons, he still hadn’t grown used to the huge expanse of their area.

Sarai’s gray-haired and milky-eyed elderly steward, Bellard, dressed in his snappy gold buttons and sash opened the door for him as he came down the corridor. Another bit of magic he still hadn’t figured out. How did the oldster know he was coming? The elf certainly couldn’t stand out in the hall all day just for the opportunity to open the door.

“Bellard,” Bannor greeted the elf with a nod.

“Milord,” the elf answered with a dip of his gray tufted head and gesturing him in.

He stepped across the threshold into polished granite greeting circle in which the family griffin crest had been carved. There in the entrance hall were stylized wooden busts of Sarai’s family, on the right her mother and father, on the left her sisters Ryelle and Janai. The carvings were nestled among sprays of flowers, and highlighted against wall murals depicting vivid natural vistas.

“Lordship,” a high chirpy voice said.

He focused on tiny red-haired Yvelle, standing at the steps leading down into the domicile proper. The thin maid, dressed in blue and black chased with silver thread, bowed to him. “Boots and weapons, Sir.”

He settled on the bench beside the steps and began pulling off his boots. “Has it been quiet today, Yvelle?”

The maid straightened clasping her hands at her waist, her long angular face composed in the reserve he’d come to associate with elves. The corner of her mouth quirked up. A glint flickered in her gold eyes. “Very quiet, Sir. Some might say—too quiet.” The elf lady raised an eyebrow. “You had three guests in your absence—appointments.”

He pulled off the first boot with a wince, and started on the second. “Important appointments?”

“Milord, that would depend on who you ask. One of them was Maestro Kilanastro—he seemed very concerned.”

Bannor sighed and rolled his eyes. He wedged the toe of his other boot with his heel, and yanked his foot free with a grunt. Damn, his head ached. It had taken a long time, but the backlash was finally starting to crash on his brain. He put the boots on the bench beside him.

He stared at the worn leather boots—they’d seen many a league and were starting to get stiff and hard to get on and off. Those boots had trekked all over Ivaneth, the icy wastes of Gladshiem, and the streets of Asgard. He guessed he would have to break down and replace them with a new pair like Sarai had insisted on a dozen occasions. Could he help it if he wanted to keep some part of his former life?

He was the only person in the house not allowed to wear his footwear inside. Two little mistakes and Sarai had insisted that thereafter the servants would not allow him onto the main floor without “house-approved” shoes. He knew the servants found it amusing. Yvelle obviously took pleasure in being able to order him to take off his boots.

Bannor focused back on Yvelle. “Matradomma didn’t threaten him with some kind of harm if he failed to teach me, did she?”

Yvelle’s gray eyes widened. “I wouldn’t know, Milord.”

He let out a breath. “Who else?”

“Dom Bertrand.”

“Matradomma’s brother?”

The maid nodded.

“He wanted to talk to me?” he pointed at himself, incredulity showing.

“Yes, Lord.”

He shook his head. What could that be about? Kalindinai’s brother, Sarai’s uncle Bertrand, was anything but fond of Bannor. The elder elf took sour distaste in the fact that his sister and nieces could stomach associating with humans much less have some kind of familial relationship, or worse yet… love—unthinkable. So, what possible unpleasantness could Bertrand be thinking to jump on him in Sarai’s house?

He untied and unbuckled the two sheaths for his axes, and removed the two dagger sheaths and put the collection on the bench next to his boots.

“So who was the last person?”

“Two actually, Milord, they were together, the—” Her face tightened. “The green ladies.”

“Tymoril and Kegari,” Bannor said. He tilted his head. “Don’t you like scales Yvelle?”

The maid looked down at the granite floor. “Lord, they are—unnerving.”

“I suppose they take getting used to,” he said. “Especially the fangs.”

“Yes, Lord. They seemed—disappointed that you were not here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Well, you have your boots and weapons, may I pass now?”

Yvelle grinned. “Yes, Lord,” She bowed. “Welcome home.”

He touched the maid’s shoulder and nodded with a smile. He headed down into the white-carpeted main commons, and past the large circular seating depression. Steps led down into a circle more than five paces across scalloped into two comfortable cushion-padded tiers.

Much of Malbraion hall, Sarai’s personal quarters, suffered from a dichotomy of desires spread between comfort and simplicity on one-side, and the innate elven need to make things attractive. The original artisans and Sarai herself had obviously struggled to meet a happy medium between the two. Many things in the house succeeded spectacularly in one aspect or the other, the seating circle being one example; comfortable to a large degree, but not particularly pretty. The thirty seat formal dining hall and adjoining veranda with the hanging gardens, carved caryatid columns, and frescoed floors was almost too beautiful to sit in. Everything from the shaped and stylized chairs, to the fluted centerpieces of the multi-tiered and inlaid banquet table all epitomes of elven cleverness and eloquence. He much preferred the tiny meal nook on the east veranda looking out over the river and the forest. In the evenings they could watch the moon rise through the archway, and listen to the churning of the river and the cry of night-birds.

Two housekeepers turned from their dusting, and bowed as he turned into chamber hall. “Valese, Norielle,” he nodded to them as he passed.

That was one thing that had really worked well for him since coming to Malan. Because his elvish was spotty, and many elves disdained to speak common (even when they could), he found just learning names (and using them) had made the atmosphere in the house much more friendly. It had been a suggestion of Sarai’s eldest sister Ryelle, to whom he owed more than a little thanks because it helped make the mansion livable for him. When he first came to live here, in Sarai’s presence the servants were obsequiously cordial to him, but the moment she was away he couldn’t get a kick in the pants, much less find out where to get a drink of water.

When he told Sarai about the problem, she reprimanded the servants—that only made the situation worse. During one of Ryelle’s visits, he happened to mention it to her. She had suggested he learn the names of all the servants, to call them by name and greet them, even if they weren’t cordial back. She wagered that given a little warming time the atmosphere would lighten up.

It took a while, but Ryelle’s idea worked. For that gesture alone, he would have appreciated Sarai’s gentle and quiet sister; a lady as demure and reserved as Sarai and Janai were flamboyant. Even if it was just a carefully performed act, Bannor appreciated her careful propriety just the same.

He headed down the long hall past the kitchen, the ancillary sitting rooms, the gallery and view chamber. His mind flickered back to Bertrand. What did he want—especially now? It had been more than a fortnight since the last encounter. One would think the elf could afford to be a little more magnanimous, Bannor did travel all the way to Hel’s domain, and break his sister and niece out of prison. He also brought his brother-in-law the king back from Gladshiem. Didn’t that mean anything? Of course, there were many that blamed Bannor for Hecate’s assault on the citizens of Malan, and all of the unfortunate things that grew out of that attack—like the king being sucked into the outer planes when Hecate’s dimensional gate collapsed.

No-one in Malan even would have known that it was Bannor the goddess was after if she hadn’t circulated thousands of leather leaflets with his likeness carved into them. It wasn’t until later that people knew what it was about. Some elves, like Bertrand, simply were not going to forget that it was because Hecate was chasing Bannor, that a lot of elves got killed, and a lot of property was destroyed.

Bannor still didn’t know if he would ever be able to counter that criticism. He did feel somewhat to blame. However, he certainly couldn’t accept the destruction as being his fault alone. That would be like accepting the blame for being born. He was conceived, he was something that Hecate wanted and was willing to hurt others to get… In Bertrand, and others thinking, he should have just immediately given himself over to the goddess in order to stop the bloodshed.

How easy it was for people to think such ridiculous things when it wasn’t them who was going to get their soul consumed by a death goddess.

One of these days, Bertrand or one of those others who thought he should just slit his own throat because of a potential threat would get the flat of his axe upside their head. He felt guilty enough without them trying to leech away his will to live with recriminations of how he should have bravely sacrificed himself for the good of others. It was interesting to note that most of these detractors had never been a soldier, or ever experienced real adversity that required risk or sacrifice. Such words, spoken by people that had never given up anything, rang hollow indeed, especially after he had been forced to choose between giving up his life and his greatest love and making the universe safe for others.

Passing all the guest quarters, and dropping down a short flight of stairs, he fished the keys to the master suite out of his pocket and unlocked the large double doors.

He turned the latch and stepped into the cool serenity of the private chambers he shared with Sarai. As the princess had promised one time during their adventures, her linen closet had been bigger than the log house he shared with her in the mountains.

Though Sarai herself was something of an austere woman, her quarters were anything but. She had a fine eye for creature comforts, many of which would never have occurred to him.

The hub of Sarai’s chambers was a tower shaped hearth of stone, glass, and crystal that was kept burning winter and summer. Bannor wasn’t sure what exactly burned in it, because he himself had never seen any wood thrown on the fires that flickered inside. The illumination from the hearth cast flickering reflections of blue, red, yellow and orange. In the summer, a crystal shroud was pulled around the cylindrical structure, so it would not heat the room. Bannor guessed that the hearth fires probably served other functions, like heating the water that flowed into the large tub in their bathing facilities.

Here in Sarai’s private retreat they had everything, a small kitchen, and little dining and sitting area, a lavatory and of course, sleeping amenities.

He pushed aside the curtains and entered the carved stone bathing alcove and vanity, stripped off his clothes, and went immediately to the large marble bathtub already filled with steaming water. He dipped his hand into the liquid. Hot. He didn’t care how the elves engineered it. He remembered scoffing about the wasteful luxury. A couple fortnights later though, he had grown to appreciate being able to submerse himself in warm clean water at the end of the day.

Sarai insisted that he bathe every day anyway. Something he hadn’t been able to do in the cabin, and something less than enjoyable because most bathing was done in an icy-cold stream. Warm water was bringing it up from the well or stream and heating it in the fireplace.

He scrubbed in the tub, getting the salt off his skin. Though he hadn’t physically fought, he had exerted his will enough to sweat everywhere. Channeling the Garmtur at that level was a serious drain on his body. The ache in his head was only beginning. He had learned to control backlash, but suppressing it only delayed the inevitable. He needed to bleed away the pent-up residual magic to relieve the pressure making his skull throb.

Bannor lolled his head against the marble, releasing his tension, relaxing his body and focusing the negative energies out of himself. The warmth working his way through his body was an extraordinary pleasure.

He lay there for time, letting the water lap over him, trying not to think of anything, just freeing himself from all concerns for this short time. He felt the backlash slowly fading. He sighed. He’d gotten a scare today, but on the other hand he’d learned new things, made new friends. Something told him that Corim would be a friend. The burly man had honest eyes, he’d seen few enough of those in recent moons. Wren’s friend Ziedra was an interesting lady, her passion for Wren was almost embarrassing in its strength. Beia was fascinating as well, a hero of a woman to be certain. As Aarlen said, their paths were likely to cross again.

After a while, he pulled himself out of the tub and dried off. He found some clean short clothes and slipped into them, and pulled on a shirt. It would still be half a bell or more before Sarai came back from her errands. He looked to the huge bed.

One thing elves knew how to make—that was a good bed. They did many things well, but bed crafting had to be one of their little-known secret arts. Sarai’s bed was absolutely decadent in its comfort. It actually kept him awake at times because some part of him was afraid he would sleep too deeply.

Not today.

He needed a nap to be alert later.

Bannor slid onto the deliciously soft comforter and settled his head on one of the half dozen pillows situated along the head of the three pace wide bed. He knew he wouldn’t stay awake long with his eyes already feeling heavy.

It was an indeterminate time later he felt a tickling on his ear. His eyes and body felt heavy with sleep as he brushed at the annoyance. The tickling came back. He rubbed at it again and captured a hand.

“Hmmm?” he wondered, still densely wrapped in a drowse.

Lips came down on his. He murmured and kissed back. Pulling the slender female body against him. She tasted of spice wine and smelled of nectar.

“Love you,” he murmured.

He felt her face against his neck. “Mmmn, you’re warm, love you too. I was going to apologize for being late, but I see I wasn’t missed. What are you doing in bed?”

“Waiting for you.” He forced his eyes open to take in Sarai leaning over him dressed in the lacy gold satin blouse he saw her dressed in earlier. She’d already let down her silvery-blonde hair, her carefully rouged and made up face beginning to show the stress of the day.

She sighed. “Bannor, you had a least a dozen things to do.”

“Uh hmmm.” He pulled her onto the bed on top of him. She didn’t resist, twining her arms and legs around him. “Being a spy was hard work.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, then stretched to get the tightness out of his muscles.

“And…???” She nudged him.

He focused one eye on her. “Uhmm, you want me to tell you now?”

“Is it a long story?”

Bannor rocked his head back. “In a way.”

“Well, just tell me if they were going to Coormeer?”

“Yes, Daena can teleport, and they have been going to Coormeer.”

“I knew it,” Sarai said with triumph in her voice.

“There’s more.”

“Like where all Janai’s new guests came from? I caught wind of some ruckus at the gates, several people appearing from nowhere and scaring several of the nobility.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yes.”

“Really long story?” Sarai asked.

He tilted his head. “Good dinner conversation.”

She grinned at him, hair falling down around her face. “I know a hint when I hear it. Mmmm, it feels nice just to lay down. I ache.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must seem like a lazy laggard.”

“In a word—yes.” She poked him in the ribs. “Move over.”

He shuffled sideways in the bed while she kicked off her slippers and reclined in the coverlets next to him.

“Your uncle Bertrand came here to see me while I was gone.”

“Bertrand? What would he want with you?”

Bannor shook his head. “I have no idea, unless your mother hit him in the head or something.”

“Strange.”

“Apparently, Tymoril and Kegari came by to terrify the servants while I was gone too.”

“I wish those two would leave you alone. Pair of draconian harlots is what they are.”

“They’re hoping you’ll lose interest in me.”

“Riiight.” She pinched his arm. “You don’t discourage them. I think you like the attention. Them and Daena too.”

“Oh come now, Daena gave up on me.”

She shook her head. “No she hasn’t. Have you seen the shapes that girl has been taking?”

“Yes, and it’s not for me. I think Janai is using her to lead on some nobles down in Coormeer.”

Sarai’s violet eyes widened. “Do you know that for certain?”

“Not for certain, just a strong instinct based on the ball gowns I saw them wearing today. I think Janai is going to be watching for you now though, so I’m betting she’ll be extra careful in the future.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought you said you were spying.”

“I did say that. However, you only asked me to find out if they were operating in Coormeer. I found out. You never said I was supposed inquire covertly.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bannnor…”

“It’s okay, I think Janai will have a new hobby, at least for a little while… her new guests should keep her interest.”

“Oh? And who are they?”

Bannor frowned and rubbed his stomach. “Can we eat something? I had like a pastry at lunch, and I’ve been using the Garmtur all afternoon… I need energy.”

“The Garmtur? What…???”

“Foood…” he groaned.

“Oh all right, I told the servants to send it in as soon as it was prepared, it will probably be waiting for us.”

“Good.” He hopped out of bed and scooped her up in his arms before she could move. He kissed her, she kissed him back with a murmur and grin. He set her on her feet. “Hold one moment, I have to get something.” He ducked into the bathing alcove, pulled on his breeches and grabbed the ring he earned today. He returned to Sarai who waited with a tilted head.

“I’m surprised you find the pants necessary,” she told him with a smile.

He grinned back. “I wouldn’t want to shock the servants.”

They strolled toward the private alcove where they sometimes shared meals. Bannor caught a whiff of what had to be some kind of roast foul. “Mmmm, dinner has been serv—” He stumbled, his knees abruptly like putty under him as if all the strength in his body had vanished.

Sarai caught him as he slumped. “Bannor? Bannor?!”

The room spun in his vision. Colors and threads of magic and reality danced in gyrating orbits, just adding to the disorientation. He blinked and shook his head. A deep penetrating ache started behind his left ear and he clawed at it in agony. He gritted his teeth as his Nola sight was flooded with images as uncountable numbers of life-forces buzzed around him like angry insects. His heart thrashed as a roar filled his ears, and everything in the chamber appeared to become glass. A pale green light suffused the confusion.

This time the word pounded into him like a giant fist. Creation. His whole body vibrated under the impact. More words thundered into him like whacks of a mallet. Annihilation. Perpetuity… As the sound of the words guttered out so did all the sensations, leaving him groaning on the floor clutching his head with shuddering hands.

“Bannor!?” Sarai’s words could reach him again, she was clutching his shoulder and shaking him.

“Ow. Not so loud.” He held up a hand. “I’m okay.” He shook his head. It felt like something rattled. That was probably a bad sign.

“What’s the matter?” Sarai asked, concern creasing her features. “What happened?”

“Vision,” he muttered. “I might have overdid today…”

“Vision?” She repeated, supporting him as he climbed back to his feet.

“I guess,” he mumbled. He wobbled on his feet but steadied. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

Sarai helped him to the dining alcove and he thumped heavily into the padded chair.

“What did you do today that you were using the Garmtur?” she asked.

“Making new enemies. Quite powerful ones actually…” He rubbed his face.

The servants had completely set the dark-wood table with crystal and silverware. He must have really been tired for them to come in through the locked door and place everything while he was napping. He grabbed a crystal goblet of water and took a long drink. The icy liquid slid down his throat and settled his quivering insides.

He took a deep breath, feeling his head begin to clear.

“Slow down, Bannor,” Sarai said, leaning across the table. “Making enemies? When did you have time to…”

“Remember Koass?” he interrupted her.

“The eternal? Of course, he’s the only reason we were able to come home.”

“Well, I was with Daena and Janai when Daena got a summons from Koass for being a bad girl.” He rubbed the back of his head, glancing at the food heaped on his plate. He still felt hungry but his appetite had been severely blunted by that experience. “Wren and I thought it was best that we go along to keep the two of them out of trouble. While we were there in eternity’s heart, Koass kind of drafted me into helping the eternals with a problem.”

Sarai’s violet eyes were wide. “Wait… eternity’s heart… drafted? What?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t interfere with the wedding… or at least I hope it won’t.”

She frowned. “It better not. You’ve done enough. You don’t need to help anyone!”

“Star, it’s a real big problem that could affect us.”

“My One, they don’t need you—they can get someone else. We’ve been through enough. We have a baby to consider… remember?”

He sighed. “I remember.” He took another sip of water. “Anyways, I think I helped them a lot today. I found a couple of the killers they were looking for.”

Sarai’s jaw dropped. “Killers? Bannorrr… what were you doing?!”

“There was a little mix up, but we took care of it. Daena and Wren got a little beat up, but they mended. It was all pretty exciting, we went to this other world to visit Falcon-Hall and speak with Aarlen Frielos, met some new races I’ve never heard of, the Kriar and Baronians. In Falconhall, we met Wren’s savant friend Ziedra who’s Aarlen’s niece and her husband Radian Felspar. We went to this titanic place called a way-point that had been overrun… It’s pretty complicated…” He looked down at his food, there wasn’t much steam coming off it anymore. “Can I eat now?”

Brow furrowed, Sarai waved to him.

Though he wasn’t as hungry as before, he knew he needed something. He adjusted himself better in the chair, knifed some butter onto a still warm piece of bread, and took a big bite of the slightly salty loaf. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of butter and grain.

“This all happened today after we talked?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” he nodded.

“This is far too elaborate to be a tease,” she said slowly, making herself more comfortable in her chair.

“Mmmf,” he agreed.

She took a sip of her wine. “Anything else you want to share with me?”

He nodded. He finished a bite and reached into his pocket. “I wanted to tell you I love you, and want you to have this.” He produced the jeweled platinum band with the glowing stones and held it up between them so that it glittered and gleamed in the candle-light sending a rainbow of sparkles scintillating across the table. “I wanted to ask you to marry me again.” He grinned. “Give you a chance to change your mind after you’ve seen what you’re in for.”

Sarai’s violet eyes were round. “Bannor, it’s beautiful,” she said in a voice both sincere and impressed. Smiling, she put both hands around his, and leaned close to examine it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He frowned. “I thought sapphires were the right stone for elven marriage.”

“They are, they are,” she confirmed, voice still heavy with surprise. “It’s just I’ve never seen blue sapphire with so much luster. Bannor, I love it.” She came around the table and kissed him. “Did you find this by yourself?”

“Someone helped me pick it out.”

“It couldn’t have been Wren…” Sarai said, taking the ring from him and putting it on her finger. The jewel lit up, gleaming in several shades of violet and blue. “Oooh. It’s a mood stone too.” She kissed him again. “Yes. I’ll marry you. Bad habits, Garmtur, and all. I wouldn’t want my life to get boring.”

“Star, your life will never be boring, I feel safe in that promise…”

Chapter Ten
Mock Battle

« ^ »

I followed Corim Vale for several fortnights before chance happened to deposit us on the world of Titaan in the capital city of Malan. I instantly fell in love. Never had I witnessed a more verdant, more alive and pastoral place. I know the Elves look on me as something of a giant brute. It doesn’t matter. It is a real world, full of natural things and possessing a serenity that I have dreamed of for all my millenniums long life. Staying here was a gift of Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran, it is a gesture I will keep with me for many summers to come.
—Senalloy Moirae Corresont

Mist shrouded the walks of Green Run, it was still before dawn as Bannor wandered down the path. He felt the cool fog against his face, and he inhaled the rich loamy scent of the damp air filled with the scent of grass and needleleaf. Senalloy’s ring had been a marvelous success, possibly the best-received gift he had ever given Sarai. She was still a little upset about his dangerous wanderings, but more happy just to spend an evening alone with him. It was good night. When he finally did get to sleep, it was deep and dreamless, but he woke up early with a tense stomach and an uneasiness that wasn’t readily explainable. He knew it was related to what he’d seen at the Kriar way-point, and the long haired Baronian warrior.

As he moved out of earshot of one of the little streamlets, he became aware of a hissing sound like something moving quickly through the air. Curious as to what would be making that noise this early in the morning, he followed the repetitive rushing sound toward its origin.

He crept up on one of the secluded stone courts and peeked through the gate. A small figure dressed in black wielding a bo-staff was whipping it expertly through a series of whirling maneuvers. As the person lashed and swung, driving back shadow opponents, she turned toward the gate.

He caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a full view of the person’s trim figure.

Wren.

He’d never seen the woman practice, though he’d come to respect her ability in battle. In all their adventures, he had yet to see her with a staff. She seemed quite proficient in it just the same as she whirled it and herself through acrobatic gyrations that must be the product of hundreds of bells of practice. He’d seen shadow combat before, but not styled like this. It was beautiful, especially performed by a lithe, vibrant woman like Wren.

He leaned against the gate, content to watch and not wanting to disturb her concentration. Why was she practicing in Green Run? Wasn’t she staying in the palace? He figured he’d get the story from her after she finished practicing.

He relaxed himself into the morning quiet, hearing only the murmur of water birds, Wren’s breath, the scuff of boots on stone, and the whirling of the staff as it pivoted at high speed.

A few moments later, he heard other steps approaching. He saw a figure still wrapped in shadow pause at the intersection in the paths, then turn and come towards him. When the figure was closer, he noticed it was the burly warrior Corim, dressed in smoke gray togs. The man nodded to Bannor and he nodded back, neither saying a word aloud.

Corim approached the gate and looked through to see Wren’s rapid exercises. Running a hand through his long hair he looked to Bannor and pointed to Wren with a ‘she’s good’ thumb and fist gesture.

He nodded back his agreement. Together the two them admired her workout in silence. After a few long breaths, she finally whipped to a stop, either at the end of her routine or tired. She did a spinning formal salute then looked around. She focused toward the shadows where they were standing.

“Hey, come out of there. I thought I felt someone watching.”

Bannor looked at Corim. The other man shrugged. Bannor opened the gate and stepped into the private yard.

“Bannor?” Wren said. “What are you doing here?”

He laughed. “I live here, remember?”

Wren rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Oh yes, I forgot.” She looked to Corim. “Helping Bannor peep were you?”

“We were observing your formidable shadow forms skill is all,” Corim responded. “G’yaki kiabo I believe.”

“Yesss…” Wren drew out the word.

Bannor looked at Corim. “G’yaki?”

The other man nodded. “Shadow warriors, sometimes assassins. They are renowned in the underworlds for their lethality with every conceivable weapon, including the open hand.”

Bannor recalled a certain situation when the ground was quaking when Wren had just magically flattened him. One moment he was trying to get in her way, the next her knee had been up under his chin.

Wren leaned on her staff. “Don’t you practice in the morning, Bannor?”

“Me? No. The only practice I get is when something tries to kill me.”

The savant frowned. “Come on, you can’t be in that good a condition if you don’t do some physical regimen.”

He shrugged. “Can’t be fat if you’re hiking ten leagues a day, especially up in the mountains. Before I met Sarai, that’s about all I did, trap and track, and do warden duties for the baron.”

“No way, Bannor, I’ve seen you fight. You must have gotten some training and practiced at some point.”

“Well, I did get some when I was young, basic things my father taught me, and then later from my unit commander. The rest was learned under duress I suppose, just trying to stay alive in the war.”

Wren frowned. “What about you, Corim? You must work out regularly, no way else to get muscles like those.”

“About three bells a day,” Corim admitted. “Not as much lately, I haven’t had the time to enter any tournaments.”

“Tournaments?” Wren asked. “Which ones?”

“Blackstar, Ivaneth, Corwin, Coormeer, the major ones.”

“Ever go to the All-Worlds?” Wren asked.

“I have heard Tal and Beia speak of it, but haven’t yet seen for myself.”

“You should,” Wren said. “Well, you guys can’t just stand around and watch me exercise. You should do some yourself.” She went to a case that she had obviously brought with her and pulled out some wooden weapons.

She tossed a wicker sword to Corim. “You wouldn’t be any good in Caan Lajaar would you?”

“Not pure form,” the burly man answered. “I know the style though.”

“Good.”

She tossed Bannor a pair of short weapons about the length of his axes. “I know you fight two-handed.”

He picked up the wooden weapons. “I didn’t say I would train with you.”

“Come on,” she urged. “It’s good for you.”

Corim glanced at Bannor, he shrugged and stretched out and rolled his shoulders. As he warmed up, he looked at Wren. “Are you certain about this?”

“Of course I am, you won’t hurt me with a piece of wood.”

“All right. On your guard.”

Wren nodded and tossed aside her staff. She dropped back into a low crouch and made a hissing sound, fists turned out. Corim watched her, his face serious, he obviously didn’t think for an instant that Wren would be an easy target. Wren’s face was a mask of ferocity, eyes narrow and jaw set, hands and feet shifting constantly as she turned with Corim.

When she attacked it was with startling speed that made Bannor lurch back in surprise. Wren’s hands and feet thrashed the air, high and low, spinning and diving.

Corim stood his ground, slipping along the vicious assault and thrusting into the heart of it. He wasn’t sure how Wren got around the blade but she was bringing her fist down on the big man’s head.

He swayed out of the way, and took as sweeping step back out of the range of a heel kick that she shouldn’t have been able to throw. The big man yanked her fist which came at him suddenly and sent her reeling forward, he pointed the sword at her back as she passed.

Wren turned and looked at Corim at the sword. “Wow, you’re good. It’s like trying to hit Beia.”

Corim bowed. “I endeavor to reach her level of skill. She spent a lot of bells pounding on me.”

“Oh, she trained you for real, I thought perhaps you had just gotten some lessons in passing.”

Corim shook his head. “Oh no. I have heard every speech and taken most of the lumps.”

“With Beia teaching, there’s always plenty of those,” Wren reminisced.

“Indeed,” Corim agreed.

Wren turned to Bannor. “Come on, your turn.”

He frowned at her. “Why do you want to embarrass me? I don’t know anything about that fancy fighting.”

“Oh come now, I watched you fight Odin. You got your licks in.”

“Yes, and he destroyed me!”

“Bannor, he had fifty millennia of battle experience—you shouldn’t have been able to hit him at all. At least, not if you’re as lame as you profess.”

He blew out a breath. “Fine, but I’m telling you I’m no good at this…”

He stepped out into the middle of the yard, spun the sticks and adjusted his grip, allowing for their lighter weight. He took a stance.

Wren stepped out opposite him and made a bow.

He nodded back.

The blonde savant didn’t hold off, she was flying at him before he even had a chance to think about what he would do. He side-stepped, cross-patterned, and whacked her in the rear with the stick when she overextended.

“Ow.” Wren yelped, frowning at him.

“Left yourself open,” he said, serious.

She narrowed her eyes, and lunged forward, hands and feet churning the air. The woman was fast and strong, a punch from a normal man twice her size would hurt less. He spun the jos, taking advantage of their lighter weight to create a tighter guard; knocking down her kicks and sliding between her punches. Even the glancing hits had jarring power. He feinted, counter-stepped, and brought the broad part of the jo-stick against her ribs with a thud.

“Punta,” Corim said, arms folded. The man’s brow was furrowed.

Wren backed up a step, rubbing her side. “Lords, what do you mean you’re no good? What do you think is good?”

He wiped the perspiration from his brow. He looked at the sticks. “I don’t do anything special, when something comes at me, I get out of the way.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Gaaah, well yesss… I spent a long time learning how to ‘get out of the way’.”

He frowned. “And?”

“Well, that’s not average dodging you’re doing.” She looked at Corim. “You teach fighting don’t you?”

“Eighth circle, yes,” Corim agreed. “Bannor is not utilizing a style. He’s an instinct fighter—reactive. His type are tough to fight because they aren’t predictable—they fight according to how their opponent fights.”

“Corim it has to be more than that. I’ve gotten bigger pieces out of Beia than I did him.”

Bannor frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Beyond a certain level of skill, it’s impossible to block all of an opponent’s attacks,” Corim explained. “Perhaps it is just reach. Let me have a go, and you watch us.”

Bannor stared at him. “You too?”

“It is said, you never really know a man until you fight him.”

He sighed. “Okay. I still don’t know why you two are making all this fuss.”

He walked back out to the center, and took a stance. He felt a bead of perspiration run down between his eyes and he rubbed it away. Corim was a far more imposing opponent than Wren. The two of them were about the same height but the other man was significantly thicker with trained muscle.

Corim had a smooth, deceptive way of shifting that made him seem to move more slowly than he actually was. Bannor was guarding away the wooden sword even before he recognized that the man had attacked. The other man did not waver but kept in, his sword a blurring study of angles, sweeps, thrusts and feints. It was not just his weapon, he used his body—elbows, knees, and shoulders trying to crowd Bannor’s defense.

With this stronger and faster opponent it was all Bannor could do to keep from getting pounded. Despite his soft voice and easy-going demeanor, Corim was every bit as fierce as one expected of a trainer of warriors.

Techniques that worked on Wren repeatedly failed as Corim muscled through tie-ups and refused to off balance himself for feints.

Corim sidestepped, leaving himself open and Bannor chopped for it. His stick bit the meat of Corim’s side as the other fighter’s sword came down on Bannor’s neck and shoulder.

Breathing heavily the two men looked at one another.

“Damn,” Bannor panted, rubbing his shoulder. “Good hit.”

“Sacrificial opening,” Corim breathed let out with a gasp. “Only way I could get through.”

Wren was shaking her head. “That was impressive. It’s almost like the harder you press him, the better he gets.” She looked to Corim who was wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

The man’s brow furrowed. “It is almost exactly like that, although it seemed more like something related to patterns.”

Bannor sat down on the stone. “I have no idea what you two are talking about. I do know one thing…” He pointed a finger at Wren and then at Corim. “I—” He drew a breath. “I do not want to have to fight either of you. She was just using her frelling hands and feet.”

“And you don’t practice?” Corim asked him eyes narrow.

Bannor shook his head.

“My friend, I envy you. I’ve fought in tournaments for eight summers, a couple hundred fights at least… I’ve trained so much I have grooves in my hands.” He held up his palms. “For you to tilt with me like that…” He shook his head. “That’s just not fair.”

“Imagine if he practiced every day,” Wren said.

“He would be remarkable,” Corim said. He shook his head. “Just not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” A deep female voice asked.

Another figure stepped from the long shadows, silver hair glinting in the early morning light. Dressed all in dark gray breeches and a leather vest she looked like a part of the shadows, and moved with a silky predator’s stalk.

The Baronian creature of war was no more evident to Bannor than right then. It was not in Senalloy’s voice, it was her bearing, the thrust of shoulders and hips. The simple way she came upon them in silence, circling them the way a carnivore might corral its prey. It was subconscious Bannor was certain, but heredity and instincts told a story.

She circled Corim and put an arm around his neck. Sitting on the ground with the Baronian woman looming over them, she was an imposing creature despite her friendly semblance. She brushed back her hair and smiled.

They were safe. The predator was not hungry.

“What’s not fair was the two of them against me,” Bannor said into the silence.

“I hardly think Corim would conspire to gang up on you, Bannor,” she said with a tilt of her head. “He’s much too honorable for that.”

“Well, they’re both convinced I’m some wizard at fighting,” he looked to Wren. “You’ve seen my scars. I stink at fighting. I just barely get by—I hold my own, but that’s all.”

Senalloy blinked violet eyes and focused on Corim. The man’s broad face tightened. He shook his head.

“Well, perhaps I can settle the argument,” Senalloy said.

Bannor’s jaw dropped. “What? You too? Come on, I know that’s not going to be an even fight.”

Senalloy rolled her eyes. “I just want to see your technique.”

He snorted. “I don’t have a technique. I told Wren. It’s simple, something comes at me. I get out of the way. That’s all.”

The Baronian woman grinned and looked at Corim. “How elegant, just ‘get out of the way’. I wish I had come up with it.” She pulled the wooden sword from Corim’s hand. “Please, Bannor, favor me with a bit of your battle.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Why is everyone so set on fighting today? Wasn’t there enough hitting yesterday?”

“The more we train in peace, the less we bleed in war,” Senalloy replied rolling her shoulders and twisting her neck from side to side. “A trite saying but true.”

“You know, you never practice with me,” Corim said, frowning.

“It would rile your dear Dulcere,” the Baronian responded. She looked at Bannor with a raised eyebrow. “Fighting with a Baronian woman is like having a midnight tryst with her.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. Corim folded his arms, brow furrowing.

He pushed himself to his feet. He knew he wasn’t going to get out of letting this huge woman pound on him. She would have to be able to. She was ancient, with a body honed for battle. As pleasing as her curves might be, she was all steely muscle underneath.

He picked up the jo-sticks and spun them to find the best grip.

“Are you afraid of me, Bannor?” Senalloy asked.

“Of what you can do, yes,” he responded. “I don’t think you want to hurt me—much.”

She grinned. The woman was very casual, sweeping the sword from left to right and then in circles. When she thrust it was with a lazy sway of her body, the tip of the weapon snaking erratically as it came at his chest. Though the weapon didn’t seem to come fast, the way it spiraled as it came in made it deceptively hard to counter. Forcing him to twist, guard and step back.

Senalloy didn’t even seem to be focused on him, her eyes seeming more intent on something off in the distance. Her sword continued to fan the air in sweeping curves as she circled him.

“You know,” Bannor said. “This wasn’t how I envisioned how you’d fight.”

The woman smiled. “If I just flailed you, that wouldn’t be a test of your skill—” Her sword flickered in, syrupy slow but insistent and almost impossible to avoid. She wasn’t moving that fast, why was it so hard to get out of the way? “That would be a test of strength and endurance.”

Bannor decided that waiting for one of those slow moving thrusts to gouge out a rib was not going to prove anything. As she pulled back for the next attack he whirled into her with both sticks.

Again, Senalloy barely seemed to move, her body swaying more like fluid than steel. Ducking around his chops, shouldering aside one wrist and flicking aside the other weapon with the sword.

With startling suddenness, his face was quite unintentionally stuffed between her ample breasts. She smelled nice—a musky flower scent. The Baronian shoved him back. “No no, Bannor, those are for Corim. I’m flattered, but you’re already engaged.”

He staggered back, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. She did that on purpose. She must have. At the edge of the yard, Corim frowned. Wren scowled at him hands on hips.

“It was an accident!” he protested.

“It helps if I trip you,” Senalloy grinned. “Watch your feet.”

Bannor growled. “I knew you were doing this to make fun of me.”

“Tease you a little, perhaps, but I am quite serious. A little more—please.”

He sighed. He glanced at Wren who had her arms folded. He wasn’t sure whether the savant was annoyed with him or Senalloy. A glance at Corim said the man was annoyed with Senalloy. He nodded.

The Baronian began weaving her sword in its shimmering path. Still, he was not content to just let her test his defenses. He went after her, the way she moved her weapon was just plain annoying.

For someone so big, she stepped with surprising lightness. He thought the sword was annoying before, when he pressed the woman it suddenly became a wall. She did things that didn’t even seem possible, guarding high and on the side at the same time. She used her, hips, legs and shoulders, tying up his attacks and then pushing him back, pressing the attack. The creature was strong, probably two or three times as strong as him. At this level of exertion, she wasn’t even breathing hard.

Senalloy smiled as she fought. She liked fighting, and for whatever reason she seemed to like him. Fighting like this actually was like a show of affection for a Baronian it seemed. She could have hit him so much harder than she did—though she was hitting plenty hard enough. Those elbow and shoulder blocks would have him black and blue in the morning.

He was running out of energy, and Senalloy, it seemed, was just starting to have fun, as he chased her through a maze of sword strokes, trying to at least make some dent in her defense. Even an elder made mistakes.

Apparently though, she made none that he could take advantage of. A few tortuously long breaths later she called a halt.

Bannor fell to his knees gasping. Damn. He hoped the he could put her between him and the enemy in future. He sure as Hades never wanted to fight her for real!

“Very good,” Senalloy said, grinning and nodding. “Impressive.”

“Good?” Bannor gasped. “That wasn’t good. I didn’t do anything except look foolish.”

“Bannor, you have to put your ego aside and have reasonable expectations. Despite my being female, I am bigger, stronger, and faster than you. I have been a veteran of more wars than you have seasons of age. On top of that, I am trained.” She dipped her chin and touched his shoulder. “Like you said, it wasn’t a fair fight. Just the same, considering the massive gap in our relative skills, you have three or four times the capabilities you should have. Considering you didn’t have to work at those skills, I would count yourself blessed.”

Though she made it sound logical and reasonable, he still didn’t like getting pounded so handily by a woman, even one ‘bigger, stronger, faster’.

<Found another youngster to pick on, have you?> a resonant voice rang in Bannor’s head. It sounded so loud it made him jerk. He noticed that no one else flinched like him. Senalloy even oriented as though the voice had an origin.

Bannor looked to where the Baronian did and saw Dulcere now dressed in a sapphire green shift, her gold skin gleaming like polished metal in the early morning light. The Kriar’s thigh length hair was brushed out like a gleaming cloak over her shoulders, the strands glistening as they were stirred by the woman’s movement and the faint wafts of dawn breeze. Though she was not stunningly beautiful like some of the females Bannor had seen, those sparkling dark eyes and sleek skin gave her an exotic allure not equaled by the others.

The lady moved in a way Bannor could only call patient grace, not in a hurry, confident, and dancer-light. There was something different about her this morning from the afternoon previous. Her threads seemed lighter somehow, more relaxed.

“You seem refreshed milady,” Bannor said. “Did you sleep well?”

The gold woman smiled. <My sleep was most excellent. Believe it or not, it has been millennia since I actually really slept. I think it is because it has been at least that long since I had the luxury of being comfortable in a place.> She stretched, still moving in her languid manner. Bannor had seen her on the ship, she could run like lightning when she chose.

“A millennia?” Wren repeated. The blonde savant’s eyes were wide. “Without sleep?”

“It’s what makes her grouchy,” Senalloy said with a grin.

“I’m happy you found the night restful,” Corim said.

The corner of Dulcere’s mouth quirked. It was hard to tell where exactly she was looking because of her all-black eyes, but it appeared she focused on Senalloy. <Perhaps you were right.>

Senalloy’s mouth opened in obvious surprise. “What?” She turned to Corim with wide eyes. “Did you hear that? She agreed with me!”

<More than once, you did say I should indulge in real sleep,> Dulcere remarked. <I find it difficult to separate your advice from your teasing.>

The Baronian shrugged. “The Kriar I knew on Karanganoi Homeworld did not get enough real sleep. Those hyper-renewal techniques should be the exception not the rule, I know all you oh-so-efficient Kriar think that sleeping is a waste of time… On the contrary, besides there are other reasons for being in bed besides sleeping you know.” She raised an eyebrow. “If you know what I mean.”

Dulcere frowned at her.

Bannor shook his head.

Corim folded his arms.

“Ummm, Lady Dulcere,” Wren said into the abrupt silence. “Did you hear anything last night about what was happening with the Baronians that were captured?”

Dulcere let out a breath and focused on Wren. <Not really, just that Koass was questioning them, and that they would be released to the Kriar authorities afterward. If they had discovered anything significant, I was not informed during the two times I checked in.> She turned to Senalloy. <So, what were you doing to Bannor?>

Senalloy’s brow furrowed. “Doing? We were simply doing a little combat practice.”

Dulcere strolled forward off the walk into the enclosed yard and looked up at the sky. She looked to either side and then at Wren’s case of wooden practice weapons. <Isn’t he a little inexperienced for you?>

Senalloy shrugged. “I guess it was more of a test.”

She looked back at Wren’s case and focused on Wren. “May I?”

Wren gestured her to it. Bannor wondered how the Kriar knew the case belonged to Wren. Had those intriguing dark eyes discerned something invisible linking them?

There was a shorter wooden sword in the case. The Kriar woman picked it up and swung it experimentally.

“You know how to use these kinds of weapons?” Corim asked her.

Dulcere turned toward him. <In combat training we are taught one hundred and sixty one weapons, most of them are of a more sophisticated variety.> She spun the sword. <However, sometimes fancy artifices can be jammed, and energy can be at a surplus. So, proficiency in martial weapons is required.>

“Survival is being able to pick up a stick and be dangerous with it,” Senalloy translated. “In war, bad things happen, people get taken prisoner and stripped of their tools. Being only able to fight with your best weapons is to be weak.” The Baronian looked down at her sword and then at Dulcere. “Practice?”

The Kriar raised an eyebrow. “I need an excuse to poke you for the bed remark.”

“Ah. By all means.” She gestured Dulcere forward.

Corim backed up. Wren took Bannor’s shoulder and pulled him back as the Baronian and the Kriar circled. The first exchange was like a casual hand-shake, the wooden weapons sliding along each other with hiss of wood on wood. Then the speed increased. Bannor had seen some excellent swordplay before, but these two fought at an unfathomable order of skill, the chatter of the weapons like the snapping of a hill full of battle-flags in a gale. The combat happened at many levels, hands, feet, and bodies. The whistle of their swords sounding like the shriek of arrow shafts. Bannor’s pulse pounded and he held his breath, it was hard to imagine they weren’t fighting to the death. He kept expecting the swords to break under the force and speed of the attacks but they were so masterful at slipping and turning that the weapons held up.

After a riveting few moments, it became apparent that Dulcere was the more experienced fighter—which was hard for Bannor to imagine. Senalloy obviously had the edge in strength and was simply a natural fighter. The Kriar was all training and discipline, she did not revel in conflict the way the Baronian did. The silver-haired woman actually seemed to draw strength from the fight, as fast and hard as they went at it, she was laughing and grinning the whole time.

After what seemed a long time the two of them stopped. Bannor felt exhausted just having watched. Senalloy was chuckling and grinning.

“Thank you, Sister. Thank you!” she enthused. “Your battle has made me alive again!” She tossed her long silver hair and put an arm around Dulcere who seemed half the woman’s size.

Despite herself, the ultra-reserved Dulcere smiled. The Baronian’s laughter and good humor was infectious. It was hard to imagine a creature that could be such a grim battle-hardened warrior could be so jovial.

“That—was—amazing,” Wren breathed next to Bannor. “Look at them, neither of them is even breathing hard!”

“I guess that’s difference between us children and grand elders,” Bannor remarked.

Corim was looking at Dulcere with concern. “Are you okay?”

The Kriar looked up at him. She gave the first smile that Bannor recognized as true affection for the long-haired warrior. <I am fine. That was—> She glanced at Senalloy. <That was—> Her brow furrowed, and she focused on the grinning Baronian. <I—found that quite invigorating actually.> She took a deep breath. <Yes. How unusual, I am tingling. It’s quite—> She looked down at her hands. She looked back up to Corim. <Pleasant.>

Bannor put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “It was fine to speak in general about there being two-hundred thousand creatures as powerful as Senalloy. The more I see, the more scary it gets.”

The blonde savant’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I know what you mean. I’m kind of clinging to the idea that she’s special, that not all of them are like her.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. Senalloy’s abilities brought something back to front of his mind. He moved forward. “Lady Dulcere, Lady Senalloy, might I ask you two a question since you’re both here?”

Dulcere nodded to him. Senalloy made a coming gesture of acknowledgement.

He drew a breath. “While I am fairly proficient at reading people, there are some who are so guarded that I cannot really fathom what they’re up to. Princess Janai is one of those. I was wondering if either of you sensed if she invited the two of you here with some particular motive?”

Dulcere rubbed the back of her neck. <In my case, I know for certain that there were political reasons. My mother is the highest ranking Kriar for my race. Janai introduced me to Queen Kalindinai and we spoke.> The Kriar woman tilted her head. <I believe it is one of her responsibilities to propose alliances. She had other reasons, but that was the primary one.>

Senalloy was studying Dulcere. “Janai used the pretext of me teaching her magic for my staying here. I believe she has some interest in retaining my services.” She glanced at Corim. “Which I would seriously entertain, because I really like it here.” She grinned. “Especially the beds. I am not exaggerating much when I say the bed I slept in last night was practically as big as the last chambers I stayed in.”

“Sen!” Corim protested. “I told you I don’t have much. I never—”

The silver-haired elder held up a hand. “Peace Corim, that was not a dig at you. Before meeting me, you led an austere life. Since you freed me from Rakaar and I became your responsibility, you have provided for me as your limited resources allowed. I have made due with a few odd tasks that netted me a handful of material goods. The princess is in a position, at the very least, to offer us some monetary stability and considerably more—she is a princess after all.”

That’s what worried Bannor. Janai had Daena. It just so happened that now she seemed to be eying Senalloy as well, who, by all accounts, was far more dangerous. Daena was potentially powerful, a young god, but still fledgling in her abilities. It would be a decade or more before she began to really even touch her potential. The Baronian woman was already a juggernaut, both physically and spiritually powerful.

“Does that mean you don’t mind being a weapon for her?”

“I was a weapon for the Baronian warlords for twenty millennia, and I didn’t even get a decent bed. For that kind of hospitality, and the generosity she showed me last night—certainly. It is what I was born to do.”

“Senalloy,” he said. “Pardon my saying it, but you’re something of a big fish in a small pond.”

The Baronian tilted her head and smiled. “Afraid she’ll use me for aspirations of world domination? I am only one person. I don’t need the headache at any rate—assassins are a bother.”

He leaned forward to emphasize his words. “She still gets an unfair advantage if you are her bodyguard.”

Senalloy tossed her silver hair and looked at him through her lashes. “Everyone has a right to be safe, Bannor. If that is her intention, and I suspect you are correct, I see nothing wrong with it. Just because her body is safe, doesn’t mean her reputation is. She cannot act indiscriminately simply because she has employed me to be a shield.”

<His concern is that by entering into such an agreement, you shift the balance of power in this region,> Dulcere said.

The Baronian put hands on hips. “Is that a bad thing? Bannor you’re going to be a member of the noble house for this region. I would think you’d want your sister-in-law to be safe, and for your kingdom to prosper. My understanding is that in other regions of this world, the humans try to crush out the Elves whenever they can. Half-breeds, which your coming child will be, are exceptionally mistreated.”

He stared at the silver-haired woman. She’d obviously put some thought into the situation. They were fancy rationalizations, but it showed that she had at least thought about what was going on.

“Senalloy, let me be honest, Daena scares me. The fact that Janai has her beholden, and is devoting herself to getting the girl’s complete loyalty is troubling. The girl isn’t even a score of summers old yet and look at what she can do. I can’t separate them—the consequences might be worse if I did. Janai really cares for Daena, but despite that… she’s not above taking advantage…”

Senalloy folded her arms. “I wouldn’t worry yourself too much, I suspect that Daena will eventually govern herself. They may get into mischief, but I seriously doubt the Princess is out to wreak havoc. She might subjugate a region or two, but the number of elves is small, and the available territory vast. Which ruler rules is trivial compared to how well they treat the people.” She gestured over the courtyard wall. “Have you seen the city? The elves don’t beat down and disadvantage their citizens. Wouldn’t other kingdoms actually benefit from that?”

“That’s not our choice to make,” Wren said.

“Oh?” Senalloy said. “Why not? Just because were smarter, wiser, and less greedy than the rabble… we can’t play? Where is that written?”

That was the problem. It wasn’t written anywhere. What was wrong with using your gifts to dismiss the injustices in the world? “Because it’s not fair,” Bannor said. “They can’t compete with me, they can’t compete with Daena, and they certainly can’t compete with you. It’s like an adult playing a game with children. Yes, of course you can kick them aside—that’s why you shouldn’t play.”

Senalloy laughed. “Bannor, you’re too preoccupied with being fair. Was it fair when gods were chasing you around trying to kill you? Was it fair when they ganged up to destroy one of their own? Nobody cares about fair. The only people who worry about fairness are losers. It’s harsh—but that’s the reality. Life is not balanced. Predators feed on the weak. Leaders are chosen because of their ability to control, to hunt, and to defend. Do you think the people of a nation care how an invader was repelled? No. What they care about is that their lives remain their own. I understand the concept of honor, and it has its place in personal conduct. However, in broader application and the universe in general, it’s just so much wind. I have a right to a comfortable life, just like you or Wren. If I can achieve that comfortable life by making someone else’s life secure. I’d say that is probably the most innocuous use of my abilities. After all, I could just go take over a kingdom and be comfortable that way. Would that be more satisfactory?”

Corim was staring at the silver-haired lady. Dulcere too.

Bannor didn’t know what to say. Senalloy obviously knew the answer to her question.

“Bannor, you can’t win this argument,” Wren said with a sigh. “I actually admire that you came on the whole non-interference thing yourself. Truth is, no matter what choices we make, we’re going to interfere simply keeping ourselves alive. We’re different. Like Senalloy says, we can either be predators or prey. Fact is, advantage or not, there are one of us to ten million mundanes and they aren’t playing fair either.”

“Why does this have to come down to an ‘us versus them’ thing?” Corim chimed in, arms folded.

The blonde savant shook her head. “It came down to that a long time ago. I’ve fought it my whole life. My savant mentor, Damay, fought it her whole life too. For every enlightened person, there are a hundred cowering in the shadows ready, willing, and eager to destroy anything they don’t understand.”

The burly fighter’s face grew dark. “I wish I could deny that accusation. The teachings of Mataya tell us to abhor such behavior.”

<Fear or disregard, they are the same thing in the final calculation,> Dulcere told them. <Do not despair over your people, Corim, even the Kriar with all their eons of evolution suffer from a similar blindness. Instead of fear, those different were treated as inferior, and intrinsically valued less. It is hard to say which is worse—ignorance or arrogance.>

“Well, I appreciate this discussion,” Senalloy said. “Bannor, I understand your worry. If Janai does approach me, as I believe she will, I will make it conditional that my duties be discreet. Would that be satisfactory?”

He let out a breath. “It’s better than nothing. Perhaps you can keep an eye on Daena?”

“I fully intended to do so. I suspect that Janai wishes my assistance in mentoring the girl, she probably accurately acknowledges that the girl will soon be beyond her ability to discipline.”

<That one will grow beyond even your abilities,> Dulcere observed. <Her potential is… significant.>

“I really wish you hadn’t created her, Bannor,” Wren muttered, shaking her head. “She’s so dangerous, it is such a gamble how she’ll turn out.”

“I wish I hadn’t as well, she didn’t want the transformation, Hella forced it on both of us. I about killed myself trying to stop her, for all the good it did.”

Senalloy rubbed the back of her neck. “A solution just occurred to me. You don’t like the idea of me protecting Janai. Would you object to me protecting your wife-to-be?”

He wouldn’t object at all! Sarai constantly worried him. The fact that he had made powerful enemies among the Aesir and Hecate’s followers didn’t make it any better. He had no delusions. His abilities while powerful, were too inconsistent and too unpredictable. He was not the measure of the creatures which might come against them some day. He did not trust Odin to keep his word. How much easier he would breathe to have that titan of a Baronian woman watching over Sarai. The biggest problem would be getting her to agree.

“No I wouldn’t. Where Sarai is concerned I don’t give a whit how fair it is.” He shook his head. “I just wish I could get her to sit still for it.”

“She might be of a different mind, now that she’s with child,” Senalloy said. “There are certainly those who would not want that child born. I’m certain her parents are already guarding her.”

This lady knew her business, and she had only been here over night. “They are,” he confirmed.

“Pay me to guard her, that way Janai won’t get a monopoly on me.”

He sure liked the idea of that giant woman being between Sarai and any harm. His wife-to-be was fearless to the point of recklessness. Where would he get the money? Sarai would never agree to it… she would say the castle guards were good enough. Senalloy was like fifty guards, with experience and capabilities that dwarfed anything he could imagine.

“Lady Senalloy, much as I appreciate the offer, I can’t imagine you really want to do this. Being a bodyguard is incredibly boring. I’ve been a guard for the Baron, I know.”

“Ah, but being a guard for a princess is a different duty with a number of benefits, not the least of which is citizenship, lodging, and appropriate attire. I know this because I’ve inquired.”

Corim frowned. “Senalloy, we should have discussed this… It comes as something of a surprise…”

<I like it,> Dulcere told them, smiling. <It will give her something constructive to do.>

Senalloy blew a wisp of silver hair out off her forehead and looked sidelong at Dulcere, her violet eyes glinting. “Yes, I suppose that will give Corim some time to himself.” She dipped her head to look into the man’s eyes. “You don’t really object to me finding some honest work do you?”

The burly man winced. “No…”

“Lady Senalloy, I think I may have a way to take you up on your offer, but I can’t guarantee that I can make it happen. Let’s say we have an agreement, pending my arrangements.”

“How long do you think you need?”

He frowned. He needed to speak to Kalindinai. The Queen was his best bet. She would be for the idea he was certain. “A few days. I might know as soon as tonight, but I wouldn’t want to promise. I think you know my word is good.”

“I trust you, Bannor,” Senalloy said, violet eyes intense. “I offered because of that trust.”

“Good, maybe this will workout for all of us—”

“And what, pray, would it be that will work out?” A strong female voice asked from across the yard.

Bannor jerked, that penetrating tone and precise diction belonged to only one person—the Queen. He turned to see the high lady of Malan dressed in gold-chased blue robes, high dark heels clacking on the cobbles. She wore a jeweled platinum tiara with the symbol of Malan on it holding back her long dark hair. The lady’s burning amber eyes wore a serious expression. She didn’t ordinarily wear so hard a face when staring at Bannor.

“Matradomma,” he gasped, bowing. “We were just discussing a proposition I was going to bring to your attention.”

Queen Kalindinai walked into the yard spinning her black scepter, glowing eyes scanning everyone. At hearing Kalindinai’s voice Wren had gone to one knee and pulled the stunned Corim down with her. Dulcere made a deferential dip of her head. Senalloy too made a shallow bow.

“Is that so?” Kalindinai said. “There must be some other reason this group is gathered in this out of the way yard like a group of conspirators.”

“Matradomma,” Wren said, eyes still cast down. Though normally on familiar terms with the queen, she obviously detected, as Bannor did, the Queen’s formal tone and bearing. She was agitated about something. “I started it. I was practicing my fighting technique, and attracted some attention.”

“Ah,” Kalindinai said, she put the scepter in her belt, reached out and one of the weapons in the box drifted to her hand. She examined the weapon. “Were these not a gift to you from Us?”

Wren nodded. “Yes, Matradomma,”

“We thought We remembered them.” She gestured and the wooden weapon drifted back to the box. She looked to Dulcere. “Arwen Dulcere, We trust your night was well.”

Dulcere’s all-black eyes blended the early-morning shadows, only the star-like glints visible. Her gold face was smooth, but Bannor could tell from the furrow in her brow that she sensed the Queen’s tense bearing. <Domma-prime, the night was most excellent. It is as Wren said, we were simply exercising.>

The Queen pursed her lips, eyes narrowing.

Bannor realized there were now considerably more life-forces around them. He glanced up to the edges of the yard and the rooftops overlooking it and saw metal glinting. There were at least a dozen silhouettes almost perfectly camouflaged against the architecture—archers. This situation was much more serious than he initially realized.

Senalloy had glanced up as well. The woman’s body tightened.

“Wren, would you introduce to me these two strangers. I believe I know this well made young man.” She stepped forward toward him. With the man kneeling she was still only slightly taller. She put a finger under his chin and tilted his face up. “Corim Vale, a tournament competitor that won here in Malan last spring and the winter games prior.”

The burly man swallowed. “Yes, ma’am—” He gulped and winced at his blunder in court etiquette. “Matradomma.”

“We just met Master Corim at Falcon Hall,” Wren added. “He’s a friend of Lady Dulcere.”

Kalindinai nodded. She turned back to Dulcere. “Odd that Janai did not introduce him along with you.”

<I vouchsafe for his conduct, Domma-prime,> Dulcere said. <Your daughter probably did not present him because he does not have rank or caste, especially in regard to Dasta Fabrista.>

“Matradomma,” Bannor said. “He’s a good man. I’ve seen in him.”

The Queen looked back at him and raised her chin. She focused her attention on Senalloy. She looked up at the massive Baronian woman. “Pray, one of you introduce me to this lady.”

<Senalloy Moirae Corresont,> Dulcere said. <She is Corim’s—assistant.>

“Assistant?” Kalindinai repeated with open incredulity. “That I find hard to swallow.”

“Matradomma,” Bannor tried. “Has something happened? We’ve all been together here. To be quite honest, I was going to bring Senalloy to you to suggest she might make a good security officer. I wanted to employ her to guard Sarai.”

The elf queen pulled the scepter from her sash. She looked back to Bannor and then to Senalloy. “Bannor, I trust you implicitly. However, this creature is more than powerful enough to fool your senses if she so chooses.” She tilted her head. “So, Senalloy is it. Where were you last night?”

“Matradomma, I remained within the confines of Green Run almost the entire time,” Senalloy said in an even voice. “A great deal of last night I spent in the company of Arminwen Janai and ward prodigal Daena. I did venture into the yards and down by the River, to pick some of the flowers that bloom by the light of the moon. There is a patch of them that grow by a clutch of boulders there at a kink in the water-run. I have them in a vase one of the servants gave me in my chambers.”

“I know the place,” the Queen said. “What time was that?”

“The red moon was setting, and the blue moon was high in the night. The midnight bells had not rung yet. I sat on the rocks and listened to the water until a little after the midnight bell rang. The east gate guard let me back in shortly after, so you can ask him. He let me out as well. I couldn’t have been out for more than a quarter bell.”

“Matradomma,” Bannor said. “What happened?”

“Assassins,” the Queen said. “And they are somewhere still on the premises…”

Chapter Eleven
Paranoia

« ^ »

In life, cynicism and mistrust are merely self defense mechanisms that when applied in moderation keep one out of unnecessary trouble. In politics, cynicism and mistrust are often the difference between success and failure, and in some cases, life and death…
—Kalindinai T’Evagduran,
Queen of Malan

“Assassins?” Bannor breathed. The word made everyone stiffen. He felt bodies on the rooftops surrounding them tighten as well, making a queasy sensation in his stomach. “Was anybody hurt?!”

“We have three servants dead and couple more injured,” the Queen answered. “We think the guards were alerted before they could reach their goal.”

“But we didn’t hear any alarm sounded,” Bannor said.

“No,” the Queen said. “These people were very deliberate, and spent some time within the confines of the outer sanctum. At least a bell, when the attempt was foiled, they fled, but were not seen leaving the citadel grounds. So, either they teleported away, or they are still on the premises. If they are still here, a general alarm might make them bolt and injure other people. I would much rather contain and capture them.”

“If it is as you say,” Corim remarked. “These criminals are either very desperate or very confident.”

“Indeed,” the Queen said with a scowl, looking toward Senalloy.

“Matradomma,” Wren said. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Senalloy. She didn’t even know she was coming here. It was Janai’s idea in fact.”

Kalindinai tapped the scepter on her shoulder. “Not impossible for a skilled mage. Mind-bending is a mage assassin’s skill. This one is definitely well versed in the arts. It shows in her aura.”

“Matradomma,” Bannor said stepping close to the Queen. “Trust me when I say this. If Senalloy wanted to kill the royal family, she wouldn’t sneak in. She’d just level the castle.”

Kalindinai raised an eyebrow. She looked back to Senalloy. The Baronian folded her arms. The elf lady focused amber eyes on Wren.

The blonde savant nodded.

The Queen focused back on Senalloy. “Do you know what blood sooth is?”

The Baronian nodded, her violet eyes did not blink. “It’s truth magic that cannot be foiled by aura wards.”

“Will you submit in order to clear yourself of further inquiry? You were outside, and unchaperoned when we think the break-in began.”

“Certainly,” Senalloy said. “I will cooperate in any way that will satisfy you. I had nothing to do with any conspiracy here. I just arrived and am hoping to find work and make a home here.”

“If she were doing security here, I don’t think it would happen again, Matradomma,” Bannor said.

“Leave us not get ahead of ourselves, Son-to-be. She is not exonerated yet.” She looked up to Senalloy and held out her palm. “Your hand.”

The Baronian woman shrugged and walked forward. The tension in the air became thick as bows groaned and arrows trembled, ready to fire. Brushing back her silver hair, she pushed back her sleeve and held out her hand.

Kalindinai took Senalloy’s hand, and looked up at the woman. “I have to cut you.”

The Baronian’s mouth quirked. “I gathered that.”

The elf queen bent, pushed back the hem of her robe, a pulled dagger from her boot. The weapon’s blade winked in the light. She brought the weapon point down to Senalloy’s hand.

“Ready?”

Senalloy nodded.

The Queen drew a stroke across the Baronian’s hand. Senalloy didn’t even twitch. Kalindinai frowned. The sharp edge had not even made a cut. The Baronian sighed.

A muscle in Kalindinai’s cheek twitched. “I am beginning to see why Bannor was getting ready to suggest you be in charge of security.”

The silver-haired woman nodded. “Perhaps I should do it.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes and after a long moment handed over the knife. Senalloy took it, reversing the blade so that it was not threatening. “When I make the cut, do whatever you must do quickly, the wound will not stay open long.”

Kalindinai’s features tightened and she nodded.

Senalloy took the blade and pushed down in the meat of her palm. The weapon made a grating sound as she drew it across her flesh, making Bannor wince. Glistening crimson blood welled up out of the slash.

The elf queen gestured, fingers passing over Senalloy’s palm, leaving a trail of sparkles that shimmered down over the Baronian’s hand. The blood bubbled and glowed.

“Speak now,” Kalindinai said. “Did you collude, or plan to collude with agents who mean harm to Malan or the house of T’Evagduran?”

“No. I did not, and do not, plan to act against Malan or house T’Evagduran. I actually rather like your daughter, Janai.”

“Have you willingly or unwillingly come to Malan in order to oppose or otherwise interfere in the affairs of the Royal house?”

“No. I have aims to become involved in the affairs of the royal house, but not in a way any of the house would find detrimental,” Senalloy responded.

Already the cut in the woman’s hand was closing, the edges knitting and the flesh pulling itself together.

“Do you intend to obey the laws of Malan, now and in the future?”

“I’m not a strong proponent for laws, Matradomma, I obey them mostly to avoid annoyances. I believe in bending the rules at times.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Kalindinai remarked. “At least you’re truthful.”

“Don’t I have to be?” Senalloy said with a tilt of her head, violet eyes glinting.

“Most people try to hedge their answer when speaking to the supreme power of the land,” Kalindinai returned.

“I doubt being meek or ambivalent would buy me anything in this situation. I am the outsider and it’s an unfortunate coincidence that has me here the very day of this act. Perhaps, I can assist. I have some skills in magic as you have already noted. Bannor will vouch for me in-as-much as he knows me. Corim and Dulcere will probably attest to my character.”

“Your offer is appreciated, Lady Senalloy,” Kalindinai said. “A recommendation from Bannor is something We cannot ignore. He has a way with attracting creatures of power; everything from elder dragons to gods and eternals.” She let out a breath. “If there is no progress in this investigation by this time tomorrow, I will bring Bannor and yourself into it. I am fairly certain his senses will ferret out the culprits.”

“Then why not let me help now?” Bannor asked.

“Because you are not officially a part of the family yet, Bannor,” Kalindinai said. “While our trials together have given me an unwavering faith in you, that feeling is shared by few outside our immediate family. This is an internal matter, and we must exhaust all other options before turning to those perceived to be outsiders. Remember, there is little love for humans amongst the nobility.”

He sighed and nodded. “I understand. Before you go, Matradomma, I do have one question.”

She eyed him. “That being?”

“Your brother, Bertrand. He came to Sarai’s quarters looking for me while I was out yesterday. Can you think of a reason he would want to see me?”

Kalindinai’s eyes narrowed and her body tightened. “Bertrand came to see you?” She paused. “That is—interesting. I cannot think of any good reason. He doesn’t like you.”

Bannor rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve noticed. He’s outright hostile actually.”

“My apologies, Bannor,” Kalindinai said. “He has had poor experiences in Corwin.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bannor said. “Well, I hope your investigation is successful. You know I’ll help if I can.”

Kalindinai nodded. She looked to the others. “My apologies.” She looked up at Senalloy. “Especially to you. This is not how We typically treat the guests of Our daughter.”

“I understand,” Senalloy said. “Security is important. My offer stands with Bannor’s. You have my assistance if it is needed.”

“Noted,” Kalindinai responded. She looked to each of the others and gave them a nod of courtesy, before sweeping out of the yard.

Arms folded, Corim watched the Queen carefully with his head tilted to one side. When she was out of sight he looked over to Bannor. “She’s going to be your mother-in-law? She’s rather intense.”

“Yes,” Bannor answered. “She used to terrify me.”

Senalloy put hands on hips and looked at him. “And now?” She asked, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“She still terrifies me—” He sighed. “But I’ve gotten used to it.”

Wren shook her head. “Bannor, I never know when you’re joking. You’re not really serious are you? Kalindinai is really fond of you.”

“I guess that means I’m safe until the novelty wears off.” He frowned. “Sometimes, I have my doubts I’ll live beyond the wedding.”

“The formal marriage ritual seems complex doesn’t it?” Corim asked with a grin.

Bannor scowled. “It’s not complex. It’s impossible.”

“Let’s see, there’s the recitation of nature’s poem, the glade walk, the aria song, the pipes, the oath, and the dance,” Corim ticked off on his fingers. “The seasons ceremony, the family honors, and the joining. It’s not so bad. There are a lot of nuances I suppose…”

He groaned. “A million nuances, and all of them a potential embarrassment that will get me snatched bald.”

The burly warrior shook his head. “Friend, you just need to take a more studious approach, learn each thing in its turn.”

Bannor sighed. “I’m not the studious type.”

Corim narrowed his eyes. “You do know how to read, yes?”

He blinked. “Some. I never had any real formal letters.”

“I’ve seen you read,” Wren said, brow furrowed. “Then how?”

“His ability to understand patterns,” Senalloy said. “He wouldn’t know the words, but he would know the intent and meaning.”

“Does Sarai know you can’t read?” Wren asked.

“I think she suspects, she wondered why I didn’t have any books or scrolls in my house.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s been so much going on since, and she’s been so busy, I don’t think she’s had time to figure it out.”

<It’s been hidden from her because she expects him not to know Elvish,> Dulcere said. <She may know and it simply doesn’t matter because he has to learn her language anyway.>

“That recitation,” Corim said. “It’s long, I suppose you could memorize it, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

“How do you know so much about it anyway?” Bannor asked.

Corim shrugged. “I had taken a fancy to elf lady at one time, and thought I should learn a bit more than hearsay.”

“Another lady friend?” Bannor responded with a raised eyebrow.

Corim sighed, face coloring. “I assure you that the truth is rather different than appearances would suggest.”

“I bet,” Wren rolled her eyes.

He heard hard heels coming quickly up the walk. He knew it was Sarai even before she turned the corner into the yard. “Bannor?”

Sarai stepped through the gate dressed in green button down surcoat with T’Evagduran crest over the left breast. Her silvery-blonde hair was tied back into a braid. Her face was not powdered or made up the way it might be for court so she obviously wasn’t on her way to do anything official. She did have a sword on her side and dagger-sheaths strapped to either thigh. Three articles of apparel considered in bad-taste when worn openly when not dressed in military regalia.

“Here Star,” he answered her, waving.

Sarai was moving fast, but slowed at the sight of strangers. Her violet eyes widened. She looked around at the new faces. “Pardons.” She focused on Bannor. “What’s going on? I was roused and told to not to go out unarmed.”

He drew a breath. “Your mother told us that assassins tried to enter the compound.”

The princess’ jaw dropped. Her hand went to the hilt of the sword on her hip. “What?”

“Yes,” Wren put in. “Your mother is leading a contingent combing for them now.”

“Damn,” She put hands on hips. “Why didn’t they tell me? Was anyone hurt?”

“Kalindinai was vague, a few servants,” Bannor answered. “I think they didn’t tell you because of suspicion. For all they knew, it was me—or one of my friends.”

“That’s silly,” Sarai said. “Mother would never suspect you.”

“Her brother would though, and a lot of the nobles…” Bannor stopped. “Bertrand.” He looked at Wren and raised a finger. “He wanted to see me yesterday. Interesting.”

Wren shook her head. “Now, that’s a leap, Bannor.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarai said, still obviously flustered.

He frowned. What if Bertrand was trying to get him implicated in something? From what he’d sensed from the queen’s brother, it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. He would feel he was doing his sister and niece a favor. He focused on Sarai’s eyes, stepped to her and pulled her close. The princess came at his pull but remained stiff. “Nothing probably,” he told her.

“So,” Sarai said, features still tight and brow furrowed. “Perhaps you’ll introduce me to these people.”

He gestured to the burly warrior. “This is Corim Vale.” The man nodded and Sarai acknowledged him. He leaned to the Baronian. “This is lady Senalloy Corresont.” The silver haired woman nodded. “And lady Dulcere Starbinder.” The Kriar dipped her head.

“Friends, this, as you no doubt gathered, is Sarai.”

“These are Janai’s new guests?” Sarai asked.

He nodded.

She looked back toward the gate. “I should go find Mother, but I know if I try to get involved, she’ll just scold me for interfering.” She made a growling sound and let out a breath. She looked back to everyone. “So, what were you all doing here, might I ask?”

“Just martial practice,” Wren responded with a shrug. “At least, I was.”

“Practice?” Sarai frowned. “I can never get this laggard to practice with me. One of his little known talents is his mastery of excuses.”

He sniffed. “I just don’t like the idea of fighting against you is all.”

“Your husband-to-be is quite good,” Senalloy chimed in. “His skills are excellent considering his training.”

“I know,” Sarai said, voice dropping, tilting her head so she looked up at him through her long lashes. “He would be a master if he just practiced.”

Wren laughed. “That’s what we said.”

Sarai turned her head, her attention centering on Dulcere. “Lady Dulcere was it?”

The Kriar nodded.

“Pardon my saying, but you have the most fascinating eyes…” Her voice trailed off.

The gold woman smiled. “Thank you. It is a trait of my people, the Kriar.”

“Kriar?” Sarai repeated. “I have never heard of them.”

“They aren’t from Titaan,” Wren put in.

“I assume Lady Senalloy is not from Titaan, either.”

Senalloy shook her head. “Born between the stars actually,” the Baronian responded.

“At least Master Corim is from Titaan,” Sarai said. “I’ve seen him in tournament. I’m certain there must be quite a story as to how the three of you got together.”

“A long one,” Corim responded with a laugh.

“Ah, then favor me with it over breakfast,” Sarai responded. “All of you, join us in our chambers? I’ll have word sent to my sisters to join us. The royal guard will want us in one location at any rate.”

Corim bowed. “Delighted, Milady.”

“Certainly,” Senalloy responded.

“A welcome invitation,” Dulcere answered.

“Sure,” Wren responded. “I need to check on my parents first though, they’re outsiders too.”

Sarai nodded. “Wise.” Wren turned to go, but stopped when Sarai broke away from him and took the blonde savant’s arm. The woman looked back. “Be careful,” Sarai told her. “Watch your back…”

Chapter Twelve
Gathering of Heroes

« ^ »

I don’t know why, but the moment I met Euriel Kergatha I knew we could be friends. I probably knew before then, because I found her daughter to be exactly the kind of woman I relate well to; aggressive, independent, and strong-willed. Euriel is the epitome of a woman who can balance the roles of warrior, mother, and wife and make it look easy.
—Senalloy Moirae Corresont

Malbraion hall hummed with activity, servants scrambling to accommodate the large number of guests on short notice. Wren had returned with both of her parents and a young man Bannor had not yet met. He knew immediately though that this was the blonde savant’s brother, the family resemblance was strong. The thing that he hadn’t been prepared for was that he too was a savant. Janai came bringing Daena, Ziedra, and her husband Radian. Laramis and Irodee showed up leading their already adult-sized six-summer old daughter, Marta. Last to appear was the eldest T’Evagduran sister, Ryelle. Long pale hair pulled back from her face with diamond combs, the first princess entered with only a slight pause at the top of the stairs, amber eyes widening. As always, the eldest sister was immaculate, every bit of pale blue cloth and each piece of jewelry precisely placed for best effect.

As Ryelle entered, the group already sixteen strong, had gathered in the conference circle, and introductions were being traded as new friends were introduced to old ones.

Bannor shook hands with Laramis and traded thumps on the shoulder. The justicar of Ukko was looking hardy and hail, well rested from three score-days off from a life of adventure spent focusing on raising his daughter. Dark haired and spindly, Marta was gazing around at all the people with wide eyes.

Irodee, Euriel, and Vanidaar had a reunion with Ziedra who was introducing her husband Radian to them.

Dulcere, Senalloy, and Corim sat together a little off from the others observing the gathering and being cordial to the people as they were introduced around.

“Rye!” Sarai greeted, climbing up the stairs to take the hand of her obviously hesitating sister. “Come, come. Join us; many new faces but worthy acquaintances all.”

“Everyone,” Sarai said as they stepped down into the circle. “This is my big sister Ryelle, the calm eye of the royal storm and First Princess.”

Heads bowed and murmured courtesies came from everyone.

“Carellion’s blessing on you all,” Ryelle said in her low crystalline voice. “Sister,” she said turning to Sarai. “I must confess I had not expected such a gathering. However, that does not mean we won’t advantage the opportunity to meet you all.” She looked toward Janai. “Jan, know you of the furor in Prime Hall?”

Janai, who was all already snuggled back on the comfortable divans with her feet up on a cushion, gestured to an empty spot next to her. “Indeed Sister, I do. Would you believe that Mother inquired of me as though I might have had something to do with it?” She gestured toward Senalloy. “I understand Lady Senalloy was confronted and asked to do a blood sooth in order to exonerate herself.”

“Actually, I do not believe anyone was spared,” Euriel said. “Daar and I were officially inquired of, even Laramis was sooth questioned. Your mother is leaving no stone unturned.”

Ryelle stepped further into the circle. She dipped her head. “I’m certain mother is simply being thorough because of her and Father’s long absence. The disappearance shook confidence in house T’Evagduran. This crisis could potentially hurt us more if it is not perceived to be handled correctly.” She looked around the group. “No offense to anyone here, but we have recently had so many outlanders. It makes the nobility nervous.”

“Is there any speculation yet as to what the attackers were after?” Bannor asked.

Ryelle pressed her lips together, amber eyes going dim for a moment. “That is the troubling thing. Neither Mother nor Father, or the high guard elite have turned up anything to suggest what the target was. They were detected in the wrong part of the compound to be making an attack on either my parents or myself. In fact, unless they were horribly misguided, the attackers were well away from anything of vital importance.”

“That’s really strange,” Sarai said, stroking her throat in thought. She sighed. She gestured to the open spot beside Janai. “Sister, please, sit and be at ease. It will be a half bell yet before breakfast will be brought out.”

Wren rubbed the back of her head. “You know who’s not accounted for.” She looked over to him. “Bannor, your two dragon lady friends, what have they been up to?”

He frowned. “Tymoril and Kegari? Actually, they were here yesterday while I was out. I can’t really think they’d be involved in anything. I mean if you think about it, it doesn’t fit them. If they were going to attack or do harm they’d do so in their dragon forms. They serve Idun, and there’s nothing to gain from molesting the T’Evagdurans.”

“Aye, ‘tis a puzzling mystery,” Laramis said, cuddling his daughter on his lap. “Arminwen, are you certain there were no stores of documents or items of particular value within reach of that area?”

Ryelle took the last few steps and settled on the divan next to Janai. She sat forward on the edge however, showing no sign of relaxing. Her gaze swept over the group. “If there is, I am not aware of it.”

Senalloy leaned back with arms folded. “Might this be some kind of political tactic to do as you said, shake faith in your parents?”

“That is not beyond the realm of possibility,” Ryelle admitted. “That still leaves the question of who.”

“I told your mother,” Bannor said, “That if she cannot find these people, that I would locate them for her.”

She trained narrowed eyes on him. “You think you can?”

“Fairly certain. I just hope that your mother’s need to handle this internally doesn’t give these people too much time to cover their tracks.”

“We should probably do our own investigation,” Sarai said. “I know Bannor could find them, I’ve seen him use the Garmtur to track recently.”

Ryelle swung around and pointed a finger at her. “No. I forbid it. You must allow mother to do this investigation without interference. Do nothing to undermine that!”

“Rye, I’m not going to undermine anything, just make sure they don’t get away.”

“Sister,” Ryelle’s normally placid voice rose. She held out her hands. “Now is not the time. This is more than justice, this is politics.”

“Rye, I don’t care about politics. I care that people close to the family died. I care that those people might have meant either you, or one of our parents harm. I’m not going to let some need for appearances and salving elven egos, to prevent those killers from being caught.”

Ryelle gripped her hair, and turned to Janai. “Jan, help me.”

Janai pursed her lips. “Sar, we should have faith in mother, she is very good at what she does.”

“Yes,” Sarai said. “She also could be in danger.”

“Arminwen,” Euriel said, her voice dropping to rumbling register that demanded attention. The Baroness lowered her chin, deep blue eyes intense. “Sarai, your sister speaks to protect your family’s reputation. Do not discount its importance. At another time, I would see no harm in providing assistance. Your parents need to be perceived as being in control. Helping them, providing assistance, suggests that they are incapable of managing on their own.”

“That’s silly,” Sarai responded with a frown. “We’re a family. We have assets. It’s not a sign of weakness to use those assets.”

“Aye, Lady Euriel speaks sooth,” Laramis let out a breath. “It could be spun that they are relying on outsiders to maintain peace rather than their own forces. While we know that to be false, there are those who are less interested in the truth and more interested in change.”

“Bertrand for instance,” Bannor said.

Suddenly, he was the focus of the entire room.

He couldn’t believe he had just said that aloud.

“Bannor?” Ryelle said in cool voice, brow furrowing and hands tightening in the creases of her skirt. “Are you making an accusation? If you aren’t, I’ll thank you not to utter that where it could be heard outside of the family.”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that he was here yesterday looking for me, and it’s a coincidence that this event happens the same day.”

“I admit my uncle has no fondness for you, but I do not think that dislike is such that he would commit treason. What other evidence do you have?”

“None,” he conceded. “I apologize, it just kind of popped out of my mouth.”

Ryelle drew a breath, fixing him with narrowed eyes. “Please be careful, Brother-to-be, in the citadel, words can be a powerful weapon. They are sharp and have been known to cut both ways.”

“I still think we should help mother,” Sarai said with a tight expression.

“I did not say we shouldn’t help,” Euriel said. “Just that we shouldn’t provide assistance.”

Sarai turned to the blonde elder her brow furrowing. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Ziedra tilted her head to one side. “It’s possible to help someone without them or others being aware of it.”

Euriel grinned. “Exactly.”

Ryelle’s eyes widened. “Kidomma, I cannot believe…”

“Ryelle,” Euriel said. “Your mother and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together. If a dozen gods couldn’t kill us, I’ll be damned if a few mortals with political aspirations will be allowed to upset her life. There is a situation here, and a need to step carefully. I believe it’s possible for us to act and still protect reputations.”

Sarai dipped her head toward Euriel. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You and Bannor risked everything to get us out of that nightmare.” She put a hand on Wren’s shoulder, who smiled and reached out for her mother. Her husband Vanidaar nodded and rubbed his wife’s leg with a reassuring hand. “We owe you and your family. We have considerable talent here.” She glanced to her son Azir, to Wren and Ziedra, and to Bannor. “Not to use it when we can is a crime itself.”

“Besides, being a busy body and beating up bad guys is fun,” Daena said with a grin.

Ryelle shot the young savant a scandalized look. “Beating up bad guys?” She looked toward Janai. “What have you been teaching her sister?”

Janai put a hand to her chest with an innocent expression. “Rye, she’s a savant, I think rough-housing is in their blood.”

“Well, that’s not how a proper lady should act.”

Euriel chuckled. “I’m a lady, Rye, and I rather enjoy a rough and tumble now and then. Come to think, so does your mother.”

“Lady Kergatha, I believe you are something of a bad influence on her.”

The Baroness looked shocked. “Me? Perish.” She laughed. “Your mother was rather well along in her bad habits before I came along.”

Ryelle sniffed. “Perhaps. Still, I am uncomfortable with this covert action you promote. It has the potential to be even more harmful.”

“I can snoop around and nobody will know,” Daena said. “I guarantee it.”

“Leave us not get ahead of ourselves,” Laramis said. “If we choose to assist it should be with great care and with careful attention to making sure we do not cause more harm than good. That said, Irodee and I owe the T’Evagdurans for tending to Marta in our absence.” He rubbed a hand through his daughter’s hair and the girl smiled up at him. “I have license to investigate in Malan. The nobility might object to my inquiry but they can hardly expect me not to. I was in the citadel when it occurred. It’s my job.”

“As a member of Shael Dal,” Corim said. “I can move about undetected quite easily. My job, as it were, is law enforcement as well. I have some skills that would help in the investigation.”

“Radian and I have a number of things that can help.” Ziedra spoke up putting and arm around her gold-skinned husband. “Kriar eyes are a powerful magic in-and-of themselves.”

“If you please,” Senalloy said. “I would like to add something. While we are thinking about finding the enemy, we should guard against the enemy finding us—or to be specific, finding one of the princesses. The reason the attackers may not have been found yet is that they are laying in wait to capitalize on an opportunity. A good assassin is patient, willing to wait right on the doorstep of the victim.”

Ryelle tilted her head and eyed Senalloy. “You sound as if you know something of such things.”

“I had a century or so of training in assassin’s tactics, yes,” Senalloy admitted.

“A century?” Sarai repeated with wide eyes.

“In any event, while I could be discreet in an investigation if it were necessary, I think I can serve the three of you best in a security capacity. In the short time I have been here in Malan, I find myself greatly enamored of its beauty and its people. I was hoping that I might find some gainful service to house T’Evagduran.”

“I can vouch for her capabilities,” Janai said. “I have seen her in action and she is a marvel. In fact, I already have her partially employed as a magic instructor.”

“A magic instructor?” Ryelle responded with a frown. “Sister, you don’t know magic—at least I have heard you swear that you do not.”

“It’s a new hobby,” Janai answered with a roll of her eyes.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bannor said. “I would feel safer if Senalloy were watching over you three. She really does know what she’s about, and her fighting and magic skills are—” He paused. “Significant.”

Sarai’s eyes narrowed. “Bannor, did you plan this?”

His brow furrowed. “Plan? Star, you and the baby need to stay safe. I can’t always be with you. Senalloy would make a great escort for you.”

“I—” Sarai started to object, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “All right, we can see about putting her on staff. On one condition.”

Even though his wife-to-be was smiling, he felt a cold shiver. “Condition?”

“Yes,” Sarai said, chin lowering and violet eyes fixing on him. “I’ll accept this fifty times overkill bodyguard that you somehow persuaded if you promise to stop dragging your feet on the wedding ceremony preparations.”

He threw back his head in pain. “Even the pipes?” He groaned.

“Especially the pipes.”

“Star…”

“Don’t ‘Star’ me, deal or not?”

He groaned again.

“I have not accepted this,” Ryelle said glancing at Senalloy. “We do not know this woman whatever her capabilities.” She turned to Janai. “I cannot believe you could be so trusting. Even if she did pass Mother’s sooth magic and means us no harm…”

“What assurances would you like, Arminwen?” Senalloy asked. “I really would be grateful for a chance to make a place in Malan.”

“I—” Ryelle was obviously at a loss for words.

“Yes, Sister,” Janai asked. “What could she do to earn our trust? She already saved my life and Daena’s yesterday. Daena is a pretty good guard for me, Sarai has Bannor, what do you have but a few of the elite guard?”

Ryelle drew a breath. “My security is not the issue under discussion, but putting trust in outsiders before we know anything about them.”

“Bannor,” Sarai asked. “Do you trust her? Do you have any reservations about Senalloy?”

He glanced at Sarai and then to the Baronian woman. Senalloy raised her chin. He had sensed so much from her. Reservations? Did she mean anyone here harm. No. Was she dedicated enough to risk her life if necessary? No, not yet, she didn’t have any attachment to anyone here save Corim and Dulcere. She did have a sincere appreciation and desire to be a part of Malan. She was so strong that the unknown life or death risk didn’t factor in. She had a desire to impress the Queen and the princesses in order to secure a place for herself and Corim. She would do a good job to serve that end if nothing else.

“The Garmtur shows nothing bad about her, except maybe her temper.” He looked at Sarai. “Of course, that could be said about more than one person in this room.”

“If Bannor says she’s trustworthy, I trust his judgment,” Sarai said.

“Sister?” Ryelle said with wide eyes. “You would just accept the assessment of this babe of a human?”

The eldest sister’s tone and the remark about his being a babe rankled a bit but Bannor held his tongue. To a thousand summer old elf, he was indeed a babe.

“Babes or not,” Daena said sitting up. “We have senses that humans and elves don’t; Bannor especially.”

Ryelle turned to Euriel. “What say you, Baroness? Do you know Senalloy?”

Euriel pressed her lips together. She drew a breath, patted Wren on the shoulder and pushed herself up off the divan. “Not yet I don’t,” she said. She strode across the circle to where Senalloy lounged.

The Baronian’s face turned serious and she rose as Euriel approached. The silver-haired woman towered over the daughter of Idun. Of course, no one who knew Euriel would ever be foolish enough to judge her on size alone.

The Aesir held her hand out. Senalloy tilted her head with curious expression. She locked thumbs with Euriel. Their hands locked together, and a jolt of tension surged through the arms of both women.

Senalloy’s eyes narrowed and the color in her hand bleached out. Her jaw tightened and she shook her head and grinned as the much smaller woman began to force her arm back.

A sparks flickered around their clasped hands as each lady stared into the eyes of the other unblinking. It seemed to last while, their arms shaking under the resistance, muscles creaking with the pressure. Finally, they broke apart with a rasp of magic.

Senalloy drew a breath, silvery eyebrow raised in surprise. She nodded to Euriel. Euriel nodded back.

The Aesir woman looked back to Ryelle. “You can trust her. She will serve your needs and far beyond.”

Ryelle’s brow furrowed. “You arm wrestle with her, and that makes her trustworthy?”

“I have the instincts of the Aesir, Arminwen. You asked and I have judged. One warrior knows the hand of another, and honor has distinct and unmistakable flavor. If she gives her word,” Euriel turned and focused narrowed eyes on Senalloy. “She will keep it. Guard well, because like myself she does not give her word easily.”

Senalloy pursed her lips, obviously not quite sure what to make of the powerful little woman. Staring into Euriel’s eyes, a smile slowly spread across her features. She held out a hand palm up and grinned. Euriel grinned back and slapped her hand down on top of it.

“I promise to serve the T’Evagduran family in good faith,” Senalloy said. “As long as the house treats me in good faith.”

Ryelle looked to Janai who nodded. She turned to Sarai.

The princess raised her chin. “Bannor knows my condition. I will only accept if he promises.”

He gritted his teeth.

“Don’t make faces, my One.” She brushed back her silvery hair, violet eyes glinting. “I shouldn’t have to coerce you in the first place.”

He let out a breath. “All right, I promise.”

“Good,” Sarai said with a nod. “Then I approve of accepting Senalloy as a guardian in the house.”

The Baronian woman pressed her hands together and dipped her head. “Arminwen, you won’t regret this decision. I guarantee there will be enemies who will though, and that is a promise…”

Chapter Thirteen
Hunting a Conspiracy

« ^ »

Whatever else she might be, Senalloy was born with a warrior’s spirit. It is tempered with a woman’s heart armored in steel, a dichotomy that is hard to balance but something all warriors who are women tend to share. It is difficult to wage war and nurture at the same time…
—Euriel Idun-daughter-Kergatha,
Mistress of the 12 armies of Cosmodarus

Not long after the decision to swear Senalloy to the defense of the princesses, breakfast was brought out and the group adjourned to the long banquet table. Perhaps he was biased, but Bannor felt that of the three sisters, the cooks who worked for his wife-to-be were the best. The fact that Janai had tried to hire away members of Sarai’s cooking staff seemed to support his opinion. This morning’s breakfast was a fine example of the culinary artistry they practiced. All down the length of the scroll-worked and carved table the guests were humming and murmuring with satisfaction. Bannor didn’t know the names of half the things being served. He did recognize the fancy eggs folded together with cheese and spicy vegetables. There were several kinds of fresh bread, carved fruits, and a few baked dishes that were some kind of pastry with vegetables, meats, and cheese inside. It all smelled excellent and tasted better.

“That’s one thing I really miss,” Wren was saying next to Radian. “Vera’s cooking. The cooks here at the citadel,” she took a bite and rolled her eyes. “Mmmm, are awesome. Vera, though, she just had a special magic that I haven’t experienced anywhere else; even the chefs that work for Nonna Idun.”

Radian waved his fork. “We are blessed to have her. We have you to thank for her still being with us.”

“It’s what friends do,” Wren answered with a nod.

Ziedra leaned her head to one side. “Where is it written about friends leaving each other behind?”

Wren winced. “Zee—I apologized.”

“Oh—right.” The woman sniffed. “The memory is still a little sore.”

“I could tell.” As if to change the subject, Wren looked toward Senalloy. “Lady Senalloy, so, I know you’re capable but how are you going to protect three people at once?”

The Baronian looked up from the plate she seemed totally engrossed in. She waved a dismissing hand. “Not really a problem. I can physically be where the risk is greatest, and monitor the other two. Telepathy and teleportation make a lot possible.”

“Teleportation does not work in the citadel,” Ryelle said from further down the table. “There are magical shields to prevent it.”

Senalloy tilted her head to one side. “Those shields are porous. Daena goes right through them. I don’t foresee having any more difficulty than she does.”

The eldest sister frowned. “Daena goes through them? You mean she teleports?”

Senalloy’s brow furrowed. “Yes, she teleported out and returned last night around the time Dulcere was in the audience with your mother.”

Janai winced. She became very busy with the glass of juice, sipping from it.

Daena’s cheeks colored and she turned her attention on her food.

“Teleporting?” Ryelle asked archly. “How interesting.” She nodded. “I had no idea you would be so valuable so soon, Senalloy. Thank you.” She drew a breath. “Since you will be working with us, in the future please tell me whenever members of the royal family decide to leave the citadel after curfew.”

Senalloy sucked her lower lip glancing at Janai and Daena. “Uh, as you wish.”

Janai straightened. “Sen—no—that won’t be necessary—really.”

“Oh, yes it is,” Ryelle said, shaking a finger. “If that’s all she does, she will be worth every copper we pay her. I always suspected you would get Daena to help you misbehave. I had no idea it was so flagrant. The curfew is for all of us, for all our security. The two of you are not exempt.” She looked back to Senalloy, amber eyes flashing. “In fact, if they misbehave like that in the future—you have my permission to drag them back by the ear if necessary. They must have either Mother or Father’s permission to leave the citadel.”

“Rye, that is for wartime! Not now.”

“Yes, in times of peace, it is a courtesy and not a requirement,” the first princess nodded. “However, since you lack courtesy. For you, it has become a requirement.”

Janai gripped the table. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, she can.” Sarai chimed in with a wide grin. “Have you forgotten? She’s the queen regent. Her power is equal to mother’s in matters of administration.”

Bannor could see that Janai was already regretting endorsing having Senalloy sign on. The Baronian woman had obviously not known about the secrets that the second princess was keeping. Sarai on the other hand was openly showing how much she enjoyed seeing her sister get caught.

“My apologies,” Senalloy said toward Janai. “I did not—”

“Don’t apologize,” Ryelle said with a sniff. “If you are going to be in charge of our security, it will be your job to curb our bad habits.” She frowned at Janai.

Janai scowled back. “I’m going to protest this enforced curfew with Mother.”

Ryelle raised her chin. “Excellent idea, Sister, take your protest to Mother straight away…”

“Please,” Bannor said. “I thought we were going to focus on the best way to find the people who broke into the citadel.”

The eldest sister turned her gaze on him. “I still believe such an investigation has more potential for harm than good.”

“Let Daena, Wren, and Ziedra investigate, Rye,” Euriel urged. “I know Ziedra at least knows how to be discreet so as not to get caught or recognized.”

Wren shot her mother a frown.

Ziedra grinned.

“They can do it,” Sarai said with a nod. “Wren is very sneaky, and apparently, Daena is more stealthy than any of us knew.”

Wren turned her frown on Sarai. “Well, it shouldn’t be hard, we just need some evidence to bring back to Bannor.”

“I can make formal inquiries with Matradomma,” Laramis said. “I will see if I can learn what has already been discovered.”

“If you can, then it will be more than I learned,” Ryelle said in a growling tone.

“You are a suspect,” Euriel said. “We all are.”

“Perhaps this is too mundane a line of reasoning,” Corim said from down the table by Dulcere. “Arminwen Ryelle, does your family have enemies that might be bold enough to do this? Someone who might feel you are weak at this time?”

“There are a few noble houses,” Ryelle answered with a shake of her head.

“House Dal’Shallan hates father passionately,” Janai offered. “But Lord Girnan doesn’t have the backbone to act so directly.”

Dulcere who had been quiet through most of the morning since the confrontation with Kalindinai straightened up. She pressed her hands together. <You will pardon Arminwen Janai,> she broadcast in that resonant voice that rang in Bannor’s mind. <What about your enemies? Could this be an attempt at a reprisal for something you are doing abroad?>

Janai raised her chin. “Something I’m doing? I don’t think so.”

“There are no agents in Coormeer annoyed with your land acquisitions and bullying?” Ryelle said.

Janai’s eyes widened and she stared at Ryelle, then glared at Bannor.

He shook his head.

Her brow furrowed.

“Sister, don’t look surprised. You aren’t the only one with spies, and I am not without my methods. So, Arwen Dulcere’s question is a valid one, have you made enemies?”

Janai scowled. “Perhaps. They would need a long reach indeed to affect us here though.”

“Arminwen, do any of these people have connections, access to the kind of magic necessary to break into the citadel?” Radian asked. “That is the key thing. Anger and a desire for paybacks is one thing. The capabilities to get inside the citadel’s magical defenses are rare—I would venture that there are less than a score of mages in all of Sharikaar who could do it. Your mother is an extremely formidable mage. Just the thought of potentially confronting her would stop most plots.”

Bannor frowned. “Maybe we have the right party, but the wrong person.”

Sarai looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Daena, didn’t you stay in the citadel for a scoreday while Janai was having her quarters redone?”

The girl pressed her lips together. “Yes.”

“That is a thought,” Ryelle agreed. “Those quarters are fairly close to where these people were sighted.”

“But she’s been staying with me in Griffin hall for a score-day.”

“She still has things back in gold hall,” Bannor countered. “I’ve seen her go back to those quarters to change. An outsider might not know that she didn’t sleep there.”

“An outsider wouldn’t know about Daena’s true nature either,” Sarai said with a nod. She turned to her sister. “Janai, perhaps it’s some would-be apprentice of yours, jealous of you taking on Daena as your ward prodigal.”

The second princess wore a serious expression. Sarai had spoken with a half-joking tone, but the frown on Janai’s face said she didn’t think it was funny.

Sarai saw the change in her sister’s face. “That’s not really possible is it?”

The older sister ran a hand through her hair, amber eyes narrowing. “It’s a possibility I’d rather not consider.”

“Actually, I think Bannor has the right target,” Wren said. “It’s who and why that’s the most important. Koass told us—warned us really. Think about it. He had Tal drag Daena back just bells before this happened. The eternals probably knew it would happen.”

“Hey, that’s right,” Bannor agreed. “Koass said the monitoring was not just for their piece of mind. It was to keep the Daena out of the hands of someone more—ambitious.” He narrowed his eyes, and looked to Wren. “He added, that Aarlen wasn’t the only one with sweet promises. He looked right at you when he said that—like you had done something wrong too.”

Wren drew a breath and winced. “Well, there was an incident. There was a time when I was like Daena.”

Daena savant focused on Wren. “What?”

“It’s kind of complicated,” Ziedra added.

“Extremely complicated,” Euriel said.

“In truth,” Wren’s father spoke up. “Part of Hecate’s vendetta against you Bannor was actually revenge for a defeat fetched on her by Wren several summers ago.”

“Huh?” Now, he was confused. Hecate had been after him specifically. She had said so. She had wanted Tan’Acho, and planned on reaching it by joining with him. “No, she was crazy, she just wanted my power. She didn’t realize we couldn’t merge.”

Wren shook her head. “No, actually you could have merged. She just didn’t know how Starholme worked. She saw me merge with a beta form that wasn’t my own, and probably figured she could make the same thing happen. Maybe hoped that since you were a higher order savant that you could open Starholme. Like you said, she was crazy.”

“You’ve done this all, haven’t you?” Daena said, staring at Wren with wide glowing eyes.

The blonde savant drew a breath. “Oh yeah. I know what a first one can do. I’ve held the sword of Shiva in my hand, Mon’istiaga. A blade designed to destroy worlds. I killed eight avatars with it. All that power and it wasn’t even near to their worst weapon. Not by far.”

“Destroy worlds?” Janai laughed. “I think you exaggerate.”

“Really?” Wren responded. “Think back to that battlefield when Bannor took out the High Jury.” She shook her head. “If you knew the true potential of each of us.” She pointed at her brother, at Ziedra, her father and Daena. “You would be frightened out of your mind. And there’s scarier things,” She looked toward Sarai. “Sometimes people just don’t know when they are playing with fire.” She took a sip from her cup.

“Aren’t we getting a little far from the point here?” Corim said.

<Actually,> Dulcere interjected. <I believe that she is simply underscoring the importance of taking even the possibility of such a threat seriously. While Daena is young, she still easily as strong as any eternal. She simply lacks the experience necessary to use all of her powers. If somehow some creature were to get control of her with the intent to coerce it could be bad indeed.>

Daena leaned forward and pushed a hand through her hair. “Do you believe that, Lady Dulcere? That I’m as powerful as an eternal? They are incredible.”

The Kriar woman frowned. <The physical capacity is there. The main thing is that you are essentially a stranger to that body. There is being strong, and knowing how to use that strength effectively. The biggest factor for you personally is that you really don’t want to be more than you are.>

The auburn haired girl shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Dulcere nodded. <Being different is uncomfortable. Young people struggle with it enough when they are just ordinary flesh and blood. Most young women want to be thought of as individuals, as someone unique, but at the same time there’s a strong need to fit in and be accepted.> The Kriar attention went to Janai briefly. <Outside of the purely physical aspects of your body, you only have as much power as you are willing to accept. That is a good thing. It means you are in control.>

Daena blinked. “Control? I wish I felt like I was in control.”

<There is a difference between controlling yourself and controlling your destiny. I have problems with that…> She raised her chin and peered at Corim. <And I have lived a very, very long time.> The Kriar drew a breath. <It is your destiny that is of the biggest concern in this discussion. Few are the people who should arbitrate the use of your powers outside the eternals and perhaps Wren.>

The young savant looked toward Wren and her brow furrowed. “Wren? What does she have to do with anything?”

<Gaea entrusted the responsibility of all savants to Wren. It is something the Kriar were coerced into acknowledging by Gaea. Wren is, as I understand it, the voice of Gaea’s will. If there is anyone to whom your destiny is truly tied, it would be the creator of the first ones.>

“Coerced?” Wren repeated. “Your mother tells a different version then. She started bullying me first. I just took her to Gaea to get it straightened out.”

Bannor held up his hands. “Stop. Just stop. My head is starting to hurt. Gaea made you boss savant?”

Wren sighed. “No. She made me responsible for looking out after all you problem children.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I guess that makes me your mother.”

Wren’s brother took a big hit on whatever he was drinking. He grinned and shook his head.

Wren’s father leaned toward her. “Pumpkin, I always remember my mother as taller—and darker—and more polite.”

Ziedra laughed.

“Go ahead poke fun,” Wren growled. “Gaea was serious. Damn it, I didn’t want the job. I begged not to be the one. Trust me on that.”

“It sounds funny, but it is true. Gaea picked her.” Ziedra said.

“Yes,” Euriel agreed.

“Gaea, I don’t know any Gaea,” Bannor said.

“You will,” Wren said. “If this is some attempt to capture Daena, you both will. She’s my mother, and yours too, and it’s best you know her.”

“This really comes down to whether the people came to attack Daena the ward prodigal, Daena the savant, or Daena the first one,” Sarai said.

Ryelle shook her head. “I just don’t see them after a first one. Any creatures expecting that kind of resistance would not have been run off so easily.”

“Just because a creature is powerful does not mean they will enter into conflict needlessly.” Senalloy said. “Especially if they know Daena’s capabilities. She would be almost impossible to capture if she were alert. She would be a handful for me or anyone.”

“Okay,” Ziedra said. “Say it is someone after Daena the first one. How would they find out? You haven’t been advertising it, have you? Aunt Aarlen didn’t know about her, and she’s pretty up on things like that.”

“We’ve been careful not to advertise it,” Janai said.

“Girls with glowing eyes are not exactly common,” Corim said.

“Actually, in Malan they are,” Sarai said, blinking glowing violet eyes. “I think her shape changing is what is more likely to have attracted notice. Unless there’s been some other incident that might have given something away.”

“I don’t think so,” Daena said. “I’ve been able to control my mass for two score-days. So, even that doesn’t give me away.”

“Even if they have kept it fairly concealed, there are plenty of folks in Gladshiem that know something is up with her,” Wren said. “She changed into Hella in front of the entire High Jury and told Odin where he could stick his judgment. We were all seen during the trial. Who knows what kind of attention that could have drawn?”

“Daena, if you are the target,” Senalloy said. “I think it would be wise to wear a different shape, one not so easily recognized. At least until we know whether we’re all just guessing or there really is a threat to you.”

“I think we’ve done enough speculating, it’s time to investigate and get some facts,” Sarai said. “Daena, I hope you’ll take Senalloy’s advice.”

“I will. It’s probably best, especially if I go out looking for the guys who might be looking for me. I just—” She shook her head. “I just have a hard time believing people would kill to get to me. They don’t even know me.”

“Did all the bloodguard who tried to kill us, know us—or care?” Bannor shook his head. “Assassins are worse. It doesn’t matter, all that matters is payment.” He looked toward the light shining in the window. “You know, it isn’t going to be easy conduct an investigation with a contingent of Griffin Elite watching Green Run.”

“A contingent?” Ryelle frowned and pushed back her chair. She strode to the shuttered doorway.

Fast as a flash Senalloy was standing in the way, arms folded. “Pardon Arminwen.”

The first princess frowned. “Don’t be—” She stopped and marshaled herself. Her chin dropped. “Of course.”

Senalloy opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. After a moment, she gestured the princess out.

Ryelle edged past Senalloy. “There’s noth—” She broke off the word and looked back. Mumbling something in Elvish she shook her head. She came back into the dining area with the giant Baronian trailing behind. “They weren’t there when I came in, and you were with us the whole time. How did you know?”

Bannor glanced at Sarai. “Let’s say I’ve learned to know how your mother thinks. That and I know some of her trusted officers, they have auras strong enough that I can sense their attention.”

“Brother-to-be, you scare me sometimes,” Ryelle said with another shake of her head. She ran a hand through her pale translucent hair, amber eyes hooded. “I take comfort that we have you as an ally and not an enemy.”

“I can get past them,” Daena said. “I can stealth Wren and Ziedra.”

“What about Kalindinai’s magic?” Bannor asked. “That’s a little harder to fool.”

“Did mother lock us in here too?” Janai stood up.

“I’m not so good at identifying what a magic is,” Bannor said. “Just that it is there and who put it there.”

Ziedra rose slowly. “How did he—” She drifted into the air, causing Ryelle’s eyes to widen. She floated over to the wall nearest the balcony and placed a hand against it. She sighed. “Wow, that subtle, and you still sensed it.”

“He’s such a snoop,” Wren said with a shake of a head. “Nobody close to him can get away with anything.”

“I’m not a snoop,” he said with a frown. “I can’t help it. When people have feelings for one another, it leaves threads…” He shrugged.

“Well, this ward was more made for show than actual security,” the dark-haired savant said, eyes giving off a bluish glow. “Probably just to satisfy observers.”

“Mother is going through every motion and step,” Ryelle said. “As she should—as we should.”

“I can bend it and leave it intact,” Ziedra said. “You know, in a way, the Queen is inviting us to leave.”

“How is that exactly?” Corim said.

“The number of people who could bend a ward like that, and slip past several squads of highly trained and magically equipped elves is extremely small.” Ziedra answered. “What little I know of the elf nobility is that they wouldn’t give a bunch of humans that much credit.”

Janai shook her head with a smile. “She has a point. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Mother knows Euriel and Vanidaar can slip those wards. It is like a smoke screen. The nobility can’t accuse her of relying on our allies without first admitting that members of this group can act with such impunity.”

“Well, then we should get to—” Bannor said.

There was a pounding on main entry doors.

He stopped and looked over, as did everyone else. Two maids rushed to the doors, opened them a crack, then with apologies pulled them wide.

Framed in the massive valve were two huge humanoid creatures with jade-green scaly flesh, surrounded by at least two squads of Griffin elite. Both looked vaguely female, with contours and lines that at first glance made them appear as a large human woman might. They wore only blue hooded cloaks and short skirts belted at the waist. Their gold eyes were narrow and their fangs were bared, it was easy to tell neither was happy.

Urged by the guards, the two creatures stepped across the threshold, Sarai’s servants scrambling to be out of the way.

“Tymoril, Kegari,” Bannor said, crossing the quarters to stand in front of them. Though he’d grown accustomed to them they remained imposing figures that towered over him. He touched Tymoril’s arm. “Are you two all right?”

Tymoril glanced down at him and then glared back through the doorway as one of the guards pulled it shut with a boom. “We are—sss—” She scowled, heavy plated brow ridges furrowing with an audible creak. “Unharmed.”

“Hous-s-se arres-s-st,” Kegari added.

“We have done nothing,” Tymoril growled.

“Don’t worry,” Bannor said. “We’re all being kept safe for our own good.”

Kegari pulled the hood back off her head and raked a clawed hand through the black hair-like quills on her head. “Good? I s-s-see no good.”

Bannor took both of their arms. “Just be calm and don’t worry, were going fix it.”

Tymoril made rumbling sound and nodded. “Fix s-s-soon.” She looked around and raised her nose. Her nostrils dilated as she sniffed. “Smell food. Is some left?”

“Plenty,” he assured.

“Did mother question you, Tymoril?” Sarai asked as Bannor led them toward the banquet area.

“S-s-she did.” Tymoril confirmed, pulling off her cloak and throwing it on a rack. Revealing her glistening scales to the shimmering light of the chamber.

“Many ques-s-stions,” Kegari added, also removing her voluminous wrap. She stopped, eyeing Ziedra, Radian, Senalloy, Dulcere, and Corim. “These are new.” She bowed her dark head. “Pray what are their names-s-s?”

“These are Lady Ziedra,” Bannor introduced, “and her husband Radian. Lady Senalloy, who will now be guarding Sarai and her sisters. Arminwen Dulcere, and Corim Vale.”

“Friends, this is Kegari and Tymoril, they’re…”

“Dragons,” Corim murmured with wide eyes.

“Actually, Draconians I think is better.” Bannor said.

Tymoril wasn’t standing on formalities. She found an empty spot at the table and began shoveling up mouthfuls of food. “Greetings,” she said waving a clawed hand between bites. “Hunngry.”

Corim leaned back from the display. “At least they eat normal food.”

“I told them it was impolite to eat people,” Bannor laughed. He looked to Kegari who was casting an envious eye at her sister. “Kegari says humans and elves don’t taste good anyway.” He patted the massive female on the shoulder. “Go ahead, you’re obviously hungry.”

The Draconian nodded with a hiss and thumped down next to her sister and began devouring the leftovers.

“Well, at least we know where they are now,” Sarai said.

“At least,” he said, shaking his head.

Euriel stood up and came to stand next to Tymoril. The Draconian glanced at the Aesir woman, but pretended not to notice her.

“What have my mother’s eyes been up to anyways, I haven’t seen either of you for days.”

“Touring in the s-s-south,” Kegari piped up between bites. “Eas-s-t of kingdom called Ivaneth.”

“Why there?” Euriel asked.

“Jus-s-st exploring,” Tymoril responded.

“There’s plenty in Malan to explore,” Euriel offered in a suspicious tone.

“Cold,” Tymoril answered. She chopped off several large hunks of a bread loaf and gnashed them down in a few fanged bites. “Warmer in south, wanted to see the ocean.”

“There is no ocean to the east,” Bannor said.

“Go east then south, near mountains,” Kegari said.

“That would be Coormeer,” Laramis let out, standing up. “Pray, you have not been tormenting my countrymen?!”

Tymoril shook her head. “S-s-s-s, no—just looking—visiting.”

Sarai frowned and glanced at Janai. “Interesting coincidence.”

“Oh give it a rest, Sister,” Janai fumed. “Don’t you have an investigation you want to conduct?”

“Yes,” Sarai answered with a sigh. She looked to Laramis. “I guess the best way to get out would be to leave when Laramis does.” Her eyes went to their daughter. “Marta will be safe here with us.”

“I will stay here with her,” Irodee told him.

Laramis nodded to Irodee.

Daena rose. Her glowing green eyes went to Ziedra who was still floating a short distance off the floor. “I can handle the stealth if you can do some invisibility.”

Ziedra responded with a thumbs up. “Done and done.”

The young savant was studying Ziedra with narrowed eyes. “How are you doing that?”

Ziedra looked down at her feet which weren’t touching the floor. Her cheeks flushed a little. “A little first one inspired magic transfer. I’ve had it for five summers and it’s become so second nature I sometimes forget I’m doing it.”

“Maybe you can teach me some time,” Daena said. “Tymoril was starting to but we never finished our lessons.”

“You’ll be getting a lesson, since neither of us is quiet like Wren.” Ziedra gestured, eyes glowing a pale blue. A flickering diamond of light appeared on Daena’s brow and grew bright. The atmosphere swirled around her making her clothes rustle. In a puff of warm air, she drifted off the floor a short distance.

Daena looked down eyes going wide. “Oh totally wizard!” She rose up a little higher and did a slow turn. She shook her fists. “Yes!”

Tymoril looked back at Daena. The Draconian’s lip curled. “That not flying. I teach you real flying.”

“It’ll do for now,” Daena breathed. “It’s great!” She did a slow arcing turn out toward the sitting circle and came humming back.

Wren watched the display with an approving nod. “That’s really good control.”

“That’s excellent control,” Ziedra complimented. “I remember how much you floundered around the first time.”

“Oh hush,” Wren frowned. “I can only imagine how bad you would have been if you hadn’t absorbed all the knowledge from the amulet.”

Ziedra shrugged.

“Don’t I get to fly?” Wren asked.

The dark-haired woman frowned at her. “I don’t hear you asking nicely.”

Wren folded her arms. “Zee, how long are you going to do this to me?”

The woman pursed her lips. “How long have you been hiding from me?”

Wren rolled her eyes. “I apologized.”

Ziedra tilted her head. “I accepted.” She put hands on hips and stared at Wren.

The blonde woman gritted her teeth then forced a smile. “Please.”

The dark-haired savant sighed. She gestured and flare of magic appeared on Wren’s forehead, the glow spreading around her limbs. A misty puff of warm air spun around her feet and lifted her up.

She looked down. “Thank you.”

“I should probably go with them,” Bannor said. “No point in sitting here waiting for them to find something.”

Sarai nodded.

Corim rose from his chair. “Mind if I tag along? I have my own stealth.” He touched the bracer on his arm. The metal band flowed around his hand with humming sound and stretched out into a long double-edged war-blade with an over-sized hilt with a long sweeping crosspiece with a single large red jewel in its center.

Bannor felt threads of reality twist out of nowhere and begin a cork-screwing dance around the powerful item. “Whoa. A shaladen.”

“An honorary one,” Corim said. “But plenty enough for what we need to do. If these people are hunting a baby eternal, I better be there to help out. Koass wants Daena watched. If it’s not me, it will be someone else.”

“I don’t mind having a couple of handsome fellows along to protect us ‘vulnerable’ maidens,” Ziedra said. “Are you two okay with flying?”

Corim grinned. “I’m a fast learner.”

Bannor frowned and folded his arms. “If we have to.”

The dark-haired woman looked at him with one eye closed. “You aren’t one of those who turns green are you?”

Tymoril let out a snort, half laughing, half choking on a something she was eating, spraying the contents in her mouth into the plate in front of her. Kegari chortled with a rumbling hissing sound.

“Bannor doesn’t much like flying,” Sarai filled in.

“Ah,” Ziedra glanced at the Draconians. “Well, flying will make it easier to evade detection.” She pressed her hands together. A glow sparked in her eyes and she gestured toward Corim. Again the diamond of light appeared on his forehead and a radiance flooded around his arms and legs with a rush of warm air. The burly man drifted up off the floor, hands and feet trailing mist.

He looked down with a nod. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable. He rolled his shoulders and did a lazy turn in the air. The man sighed. “It’s like I remember it. I probably could have cast the spell myself, but your aunt doesn’t like it much when I use her magic.”

Ziedra shook her head. “No she doesn’t. She can feel it when you do it.”

Dulcere turned her head to one side; black eyes gleaming in the light filtering through the windows. <I am still amazed when I see this magic at work. I have artifices which give me the ability to fly, but they are part of the weapons that were implanted in me when I became a soldier.>

Ziedra focused on Bannor. “Ready?”

He sighed and nodded.

“It’s not that bad,” Ziedra said. “I was totally afraid of heights until I learned to fly. Then I wasn’t afraid at all. When you feel in control it makes it a lot better.” She pressed her fingers together and dipped her head.

As the lady savant focused, Bannor felt elemental threads lining up between them. As Ziedra gestured he felt a very tangible link open between them as energy poured into the woman and flooded out through her outstretched hand.

A hot tingling stung his forehead, and magic spiraled down through his chest and down into his arms and legs. His heart beat fast and his chest tightened as warm wind flowed around him and he felt himself grow light. With a teetering off-balance sense of falling he rose into the air. Closing his eyes, he fought an irrational panic and kept his mind and body quiet. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down to see that his feet weren’t touching the floor.

The weightless feeling was very similar to how it was when he traveled in astral form. He leaned toward Sarai and thought himself toward her. The tingling around his hands and feet increased, and the warm air around his body made a humming sound. He surged toward her with increasing speed. As he drew close he leaned back, pushing his will in the opposite direction. He slowed down to a stop right in front of her.

She rose and put her arms around him in a warm hug. “For someone who doesn’t like to fly you move pretty well.”

“Going in a straight line is easy,” he said. He took her by the waist and lifted her off the floor. She put her arms around his neck. He kissed her and the two of them did a lazy turn around the conference circle.

Sarai made a humming, pleased sound as they floated along. “I don’t know why you detest flying. It’s so much fun!”

“Ziedra’s right,” he sniffed her neck and sighed. “It’s not as scary when you control how fast or slow you’re going.”

Wren floated with hands on hips. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” He looked back.

“Flying with her.”

“She’s not that heavy,” he answered.

Wren looked back at Ziedra. “I fell all over myself the first time I tried to carry anything.”

The woman shrugged. “Native brain power I guess.”

Bannor set Sarai down gently and gave her another kiss. “We better get started.” He focused on Ziedra. “So, how do we get out of here with all those eyes watching this place?”

“A little invisibility should do it,” she answered. “Assuming that Daena has a good technique for covering our auras.”

The young savant nodded. “Don’t worry.”

“So, we just follow Laramis out?”

Wren shrugged. “That’s the plan, real simple, but those are the best kind.”

The quiet young man sitting next to Euriel laughed. “And how many of those have you messed up, Sis?”

The blonde savant shot him a wounded look. “None. Those were complications.” She glanced to Bannor. “Think I’m bad? Hang out with Bannor a while. He gives new meaning to the word complications.”

He grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Guilty. I have gotten better. Until yesterday, it had been a whole couple of score-days since something tried to kill us.” He turned to Laramis. “You ready?”

“Aye.” The burly warrior said. He bent and kissed his daughter, then pulled Irodee down for a kiss as well.

“Okay gather close,” Daena told them. Bannor relaxed his concentration and allowed himself to settle to the floor. He stepped over by the young woman.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I thought you were going to change your shape first.”

She looked down at herself. She looked back up at him with glowing green eyes. “Oh, right.” She crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head in concentration.

A rainbow of light flickered around her limbs. A humming vibration filled the air around her, and the girl’s flesh seemed to bubble and froth. Her copious body became semi-transparent, a reddish glow appearing to emanate from her bones. Her proportions shifted, she grew smaller and her hair shortened. The lines of her face grew more round, her body grew more lean.

The light dimmed and the girl was revealed in her new shape—or Bannor amended in his mind—Daena’s old shape. This was how the girl looked score-days ago when he first met her in an alley while thugs were trying to rape her. A twiggy auburn-haired teen of less than average height with high cheekbones, big eyes, and an understated mouth.

“Wow, you’ve gotten good at that,” Wren commended.

“Impressive,” Euriel agreed.

“Thanks,” Daena returned. She drew a breath and blinked a few times. She ran a hand through her short hair.

“There’s a girl I haven’t seen in a while,” Bannor said.

“Yes,” Daena said. She pulled at the clothing that no longer fit correctly in any dimension with an expression of chagrin. “I haven’t spent enough time with her. I’d almost forgotten and it hasn’t been that long.” She took another breath. “Feels strange.”

“What are you talking about?” Janai asked hands on hips. “Don’t tell me this is how you used to look?”

Daena nodded. “It’s how I was until Hella ate me.”

“I don’t think it’s bad at all,” Wren said. She nodded to Daena. “Much more believable.”

“Hey,” Daena said. “I was having fun being unbelievable.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, having men drooling and acting like idiots. Fun.”

Daena’s brow furrowed. “Did some man like rip out your heart or something? They aren’t so bad.”

Wren pressed her lips together, a moment of pain crossing her features. “Something like that,” She let out a breath. “Let’s go.”

Daena rolled her eyes. Hand glowing she took pinches of the garment she was wearing, and the looseness tightened. Within a few moments, her sleeves, neckline and the other dimensions of her clothing fit correctly.

Bannor reached out and touched Wren’s shoulder.

“No, damn it,” Wren said. “Don’t look at me. Leave me a secret or two, okay? Let’s go.”

Corim had not joined the discussion. Instead, he had apparently been focusing on how to control the flight that Ziedra had given him. He looked up. “I will keep everyone here apprised of our progress through Dulcere.” He looked to the Kriar woman. “As long as you don’t mind.”

Dulcere shook her head. <That’s fine. There’s some inquiries I’d like to pursue here. I have to check in with Koass as well.>

Daena raised her hands, her dark eyes glowed and a darkness spread out from her. It touched Bannor’s skin in a cold caress that seemed to fold all his threads in on themselves. The sensation made his heart stutter for a moment and all the hairs on his arms stiffened.

“Whoa, that felt weird.”

Wren shuddered. “Cold. And this works?”

“Yes,” Daena said.

Ziedra was staring at her hand. “No, nothing will detect us with magic at least. Bizarre. I trust you’re keeping this technique a secret?”

“Deep and dark,” Daena agreed. “Really deep, really dark.”

“Good.”

“My shaladen didn’t like that at all,” Corim frowned at the weapon in his hand.

“Okay, last preparation,” Ziedra said. “Bannor you first.” She drifted over toward him, and reached out with a long-nailed hand. Her fingers brushed his forehead. “You know, it’s really tough to get magic to stick to you.”

He shrugged.

“He’s stubborn even when he isn’t trying,” Sarai laughed.

The dark-haired savant narrowed her eyes. Sparks spiraled down her arm and spread around him. The shining bits of light began orbiting his body. An itchy tingling rushed along his arms and legs, and an odd liquid warmth spread through his insides. As the lights spun around him, his skin and clothing were gradually getting lighter in color. After a few moments, the skin of his hand was translucent and he could see the floor through it. In half a breath, he couldn’t see himself at all except through his Nola sight. Only the patterns of threads that comprised his body and the forces at work through it were visible.

“Damn, this is an odd feeling.” He touched his arm, it was still there and the feeling was normal. He simply couldn’t see it or himself.

Sarai probed forward with her hand until her fingers encountered his chest. He took her hand in his. “I’m okay.”

She felt up to his face with her free hand. Then leaned in and kissed him. “My One, I think you got it backward, the saying is seen and not heard.”

Ziedra chuckled. “Okay, the rest of you will be easy.”

The savant of magic repeated the process on each of them until their whole team was no longer visible to normal sight. Bannor could still tell where Wren, Ziedra, and Daena were at through his ties to eternity. Corim was more of a problem, the Shaladen obscured his threads. However, his body was opaque to Bannor’s thread sight, leaving a kind of dark patch that he could follow with concentration.

“Shall we go?” Laramis asked.

“I’m ready,” Bannor said. He took Ziedra and Wren each by the shoulder.

“Can you see us, Bannor?” Ziedra asked.

“Everyone except for Corim, he’s kind of a black spot.”

“All right,” Wren said. “We should use telepathy from here out. Elves being so sharp eared and all.”

Sarai rolled her eyes. “Wren please, that pun is older than my great grandmother.”

Bannor felt Wren shrug.

<Can you all hear me?> Corim’s voice hummed in Bannor’s mind, the pseudo voice almost like a shout even though it was smooth and even.

<I can,> Daena answered.

<Got it,> Wren responded.

<Clear as day,> Ziedra thought to the group.

<A bit loud actually,> Bannor added. “Guess we’re good to leave.” He said aloud.

“Before you five light out of here,” Ryelle said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I must say something that you probably already know, but bears repeating.” She drew a breath focusing toward them but obviously unable to see. “My mother put us here in order to keep us out of the way while a search was conducted. You go out there where you’re not supposed to be, the guards can’t be blamed for thinking you five hidden people are the assassins they are looking for. I will not countenance any harm coming to guards doing their duty. You do this against my judgment—if there is an altercation as a result of this inadvisable exploration I will not be on your side. Am I clear?”

“I understand,” Bannor answered.

“No argument,” Wren added.

“Understood,” Ziedra agreed.

“Yes,” Daena responded

“Clear,” Corim said.

She waved her hand in dismissal. “I pray you find nothing, and this endeavor was unnecessary.”

Bannor thumped Laramis on the shoulder. He reached back and made sure the others were aware of their positions as they drifted after the Justicar. He looked back to Sarai. “Love you,” he touched her cheek.

She smiled and nodded.

At the entrance, there was a pause as Ziedra and Wren bent the threads of Kalindinai’s ward to make a gap for Daena, Corim and himself to slip out into the corridor behind Laramis. Ziedra and Wren each slid out much the way someone might step gingerly between the barbs of a particularly nasty braid fence.

Laramis proceeded after he was nudged again to indicate they were clear, heading down the passage toward the courtyard gate and the brighter light of morning. Even at the far end of passage, Bannor could see several sentinels watching the exit.

“Mada (stop),” the guards urged with weapons drawn, as Laramis halted at the threshold.

The Queen had not taken any chances, there were eight burly elven veterans on alert surrounding the exit, four with bows and four with swords and spears. Bannor knew two, Eidon and Kolin, ranking members of the palace guard, elves who served in the King’s personal retinue. The frowns on their faces and the tension in their armored bodies said they were taking this duty extremely seriously.

Laramis drew a breath, keeping his hands well away from his weapons and meeting the eyes around the circle. “Praelor Eidon,” Laramis said in formal fashion. “By light and law, please acknowledge this charge.” He reached slowly into his jacket and pulled out leathern patch with a gold emboss and held it out.

The elven soldier leaned forward and scowled at it. He raised deep green eyes to meet Laramis’ gaze and sniffed. He gestured and the other soldiers parted to let the Justicar pass. “Report to First Praelor Linn’Beloss,” he said in stilted common. “The Queen said to expect you and send you to him.”

Laramis bowed. “Very good.”

As the Justicar moved forward, Bannor surged ahead behind him and up into the sky through the gap between the parted guards. With the elves gathered so close to the opening there had been no sure way to slip past without some noise or inadvertent slip giving away their presence.

Bannor didn’t slow down until he was high above the courtyard some two-hundred paces up. It took a moment for the pounding of his heart to remind him he was crazy. He was flying. He didn’t like flying. He was far too high with no visible means of support. He wasn’t falling though. Laid out beneath him was the citadel’s fine lattice of connecting bridges, courtyards, and gardens all intertwined with the hillside trees. When viewed from this vantage one could see the intricate mosaic they formed, it was a tribute to the genius of the artisans who designed the bastion of the elven kings.

<Everyone get out okay?> Bannor felt Wren’s thoughts in his head.

<I’m out,> Daena responded.

<No troubles,> Ziedra answered.

<I am clear,> Corim informed everyone.

<Bannor?> Wren thought straight at him.

He let out a breath. <I’m up so high.>

<Are you okay?> Daena asked. <—Bannor?>

<The flying is really weirding him out,> Ziedra told the group. <Bannor?>

<Mmmm.>

It did feel free to be way up here, far above the concerns on the ground. He never really understood why Sarai liked being up high; especially on the back of a dragon, so out of control, so totally at the mercy of the forces of the universe. Of course, he was that way on the ground or in the air. He never seemed in control, even though he could grip the threads of reality in his hands, he never seemed to be able to manage his own reality.

His gaze traced the buildings of Green Run as they followed the curve of the river around the base of citadel hill. Sheltering trees and cleverly constructed shells hid the connecting passages that linked the citadel proper with the outlying wings. The citadel itself was girded by a gate-less buttress of stone dozens of paces thick. The only way in from the outside was either over or under the massive wall through the concealed passages, or across the narrow bridges from the six minarets equally spaced around the main structure. From a soldier’s standpoint it didn’t seem that well defended, given that the entrances to the towers and the outbuildings that connected to the citadel had little in the way of apparent defenses.

Being a creature of magic himself, the auras in the trees and towers told the truth. Even the river served as a defense. Rings and nets of magic suffused the area, ancient eldritch spells worked into the very ground that made each blade of grass and drop of moisture hostile to enemies of the elves. Villains entering that maze of trees with harmful intent would find themselves being battled by the trees, the mist and even the soil itself.

No mortal assailants could have gained access to the citadel by that path. The citadel’s one weakness lay from some kind of aerial assault. Even in that case, there were trained griffins that patrolled the citadel grounds at night; fearsome predators in their own right. The only sure way in would be through magical stealth or teleportation. As Ryelle said, the magical defenses prevented such means of travel. His senses confirmed that those defenses remained intact, a skein of threads that formed a wall of sorts that crossed dimensions. However, Daena could get in and out. He trusted Senalloy when she said that she could pass through unhindered. So, enemies would either have to be allowed in or know the defenses well enough to exploit them and slip through the magic. The elven royals had done nothing but enhance those defenses for ten millenniums. Only someone with the great power could breech them without intimate knowledge of the wards.

<Bannor, are you okay?> Wren thought loudly into his mind. <Where are you?>

He found Wren’s link to eternity, and mentally followed it to its terminus; a concealed network of threads that was unmistakably the savant of forces. <Above and to your left about a hundred paces.>

<I think I can tell where he is,> Ziedra murmured. <Way up.>

From this high vantage he could see down into the citadel, to the emanations of threads, bright specks that moved slowly through the glare of surrounding magic. He recognized Queen Kalindinai, a bright star of powerful energies surrounded by a swarm of lesser sparks. King T’Evagduran, cooler burning, but still bright was surrounded by a smaller host in a different part of the citadel. There were a few other bright emanations, probably mages, they weren’t strong enough to be alarming though.

Did an enemy have to be powerful to be dangerous though? The right poison and the slightest nick with a weapon and the mightiest warrior could be slain.

<Friend Bannor, talk to us.> Corim’s thought pressed in on him. Through the Shaladen, the burly man’s pseudo-voice made him twitch with its power and insistence.

<I hear all of you, shush for a moment,> he answered.

He saw no other bright spots in the citadel, but there were dark areas, suspiciously devoid of all energy. Two or three were probably the ghost vaults that Sarai had described to him some time back. He saw no less than six dead spots, he cast out the three largest as ones that were there by design. That left three unexplained locations.

He drew a breath, getting himself back under control and focusing on the real world instead of being lost in the realm of threads. <Sorry, I was concentrating. I think I may know some places to search.>

<From here?> Ziedra asked, the incredulity clear in her thought.

<Yes, I can see the King and Queen, they are in the main halls on the far side of the citadel, near where I assume the attack took place. I looked for other creatures of power but there weren’t any.> He drifted down toward Wren until he was hovering next to her. He put a hand on the blonde savant’s shoulder, making her jerk. She seemed to immediately recognize it was him. <However, there are some heavily shielded places. I’m guessing three of them are ghost vaults. The others are smaller, like bed-chambers or sitting rooms well off from the main part of the citadel where powerful stealth magic doesn’t belong.>

<Brother, you are amazing,> Daena said.

<I wanted to search Daena’s quarters,> Corim thought. <But if the King and Queen are there now, it probably wouldn’t be wise.>

<You’re right, not a good risk,> Wren determined. <Can you lead us to these spots, Bannor?>

<Yes and no,> he responded with a sigh. <Seeing them and getting to them are different things. All three spots are in the back on the north side down in the sub-levels.>

<I can get us there,> Daena answered. <Everyone gather at that big red balcony, that’s furthest from the Griffin aerie. We’re stealthed, but they could still smell us.>

<Let’s go,> Ziedra told them.

With some pausing to draw a breath, Bannor made his way toward the balcony Daena indicated. With no gates, passersby, or guards to slip them up, the flying made things easy. The red balcony stood at one of the highest points in the citadel some hundred paces up in the massive structure. The broad opening, was girded by a thick wooden archway carved in a reticulated pattern of leaves. While there were no guards to hinder entry, the magic infused into the arch was a far more powerful sentinel. Bannor watched energy pulsing through the structure in corkscrew patterns, like blood being pumped through a living thing.

<Hold up,> Ziedra told them. <A ward, and a nasty one. Don’t know if Daena’s stealth will hold up to this or not.> Bannor felt the dark-haired savant collect her power and begin teasing the edges of the enforced magic of the ward. As he watched the progression, it reminded him of snake charmer mesmerizing a hissing reptile. Little by little she parted the ward like hands pressed into an over-sized cobweb. The energy crackled and sizzled as it was pushed back. When it was wide enough the woman stepped in and turned while still apparently holding the wall of magic split apart. <Through the center, hurry, this is a strong ward.>

Bannor pushed the others ahead of him, helping to keep them from jostling Ziedra and each other. Anxious instants later, Ziedra relaxed her control on the ward, which snapped closed with an angry rasping sound.

In the tighter confines, it was easier to keep everyone organized and together. Here in the main citadel he felt something odd in the air, some feeling that simply did not belong. If anyone else sensed it, they didn’t speak of it. With everyone invisible, it was impossible to read what people were thinking or feeling except the strong impressions that he felt through their ties to eternity.

Daena lead them on a steady course advising lefts and rights as they wound through the intricate architecture of Kul’Amaron the great citadel of Malan. Everywhere he looked were tributes to elven ingenuity, their sense of beauty and fastidious habits; paintings, tapestries, statuary, shield crests, braidings and brocades of silk and other materials.

The stone around them resonated with history and animus of all the great and not-so-great elves who had sheltered here over the millennia. It was still hard to imagine that he would soon be a part of this. It was much easier to visualize that everything they were experiencing today was part of something to prevent his becoming part of the family. Of course, anyone close to the family knew it was a little late for that. As stern as Queen Kalindinai was, Bannor felt a sincere affection between them. It was just that there were so few moments when the Queen could openly express it and so many others where she needed to act in a suspicious and hostile manner toward him in order to satisfy appearances. King T’Evagduran, while he had no particular liking for Bannor, did have a deep and abiding love for his daughters, especially his youngest, Sarai. The two of them had come to terms in most respects. While T’Evagduran was concerned about the purity of his family, he had come to have a greater concern for his daughter’s happiness. As long as he kept Sarai happy, King T’Evagduran was happy. There would be much woe should that situation change.

As they drifted into the lower levels of the citadel, they began encountering guards, staff, nobility and members of the T’Evagduran extended family. For the most part the halls were tall enough that they were able to slip past by staying close to the ceiling.

A few doorways caused trouble where they simply needed to be patient and wait until people blocking the way finished their conversation and moved on.

<I always wanted a tour of the citadel of Malan,> Ziedra said into their minds. <I just never imagined I’d get my wish in quite in this fashion.>

<Sneaking around Kul’Amaron is just crazy,> Wren said. <Gaea help us if we get caught.>

<We won’t,> Daena put in. <If we do, I’ll just teleport us out.>

<For some reason, that doesn’t make me feel any better,> Corim thought into the group mind.

They continued downward toward the areas that Bannor had seen from so far away. Sometimes his divinations did have a frightening aspect, to be able to see so much yet understand so little.

Down two more stairwells, to the northern “back” portion of the citadel. Daena did know her way around extremely well, especially considering she’d only lived in the citadel a scoreday. As Bannor had noted, he had yet to meet a mentally challenged savant.

As they stepped down into the older back halls of the citadel Bannor felt the sense of oddness increase. It was something out of place; an aspect that just didn’t seem quite right. As they moved down the hallway with quiet hisses, he started to feel a pulsation in the back of his head.

<Does anyone else feel something strange?> he asked.

<Yeah,> Wren answered. <Right where I feel my Nola.>

<Same here,> Ziedra confirmed.

<I don’t like it,> Daena put in. <This is just weird.>

<Guess I’ll have to be the one left out,> Corim informed everyone else. <I am sensing some strange energies through the Shaladen.> He paused. <A chronal diffraction signature? That doesn’t make sense…>

<A chrona-what?>

<Never-mind, it must be a mistake on my part. We couldn’t be here in that case.>

They approached the first area slowly. The strange sensation all the savants were feeling making them edgy. As they floated into the long hall Bannor recognized what must be one of the chambers he identified from the outside. There was nothing to mark it, or make it seem out of the ordinary. This part of the citadel was very utilitarian, the walls unadorned, the floor simple flagstone. The chamber entry was a plain brass bound door.

The tingling grew more pronounced, with each step the sensation increased. Bannor’s heart beat fast. The area was shielded in a very strange way.

<The door is cold,> Wren determined, placing her hand against it.

<This whole thing feels strange,> Daena said. <What’s going on? Bannor—? Bannor?>

As he stared at the door, what was strange became familiar, and what was familiar became frightening. There were threads wound around and through the door and through the room beyond, sealing it away from his viewing. The seal was familiar, the threads twisted in a way only possible by one creature that he knew.

<It’s been sealed by a Garmtur,> he said.

<What?!> Wren thought back in shock. <Another Garmtur?>

<No.> He swallowed, feeling his own bewilderment. He tested the threads of the area again. There could be no doubt. <I did it.>

Chapter Fourteen
Möbius Reality

« ^ »

The longer I remain among savants, less surprises me, and the broader my expectations of what’s possible becomes…
—Bannor Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan

Though Bannor couldn’t see it, he felt the others probing the area to find sight of him. He stared at the door to the suite that looked like nothing other than an ordinary brass-bound door into an insignificant chamber in the back part of the citadel well away from anything of value, strategic or other wise. Still, he remained certain. The energies in the door and in the chamber beyond belonged to a savant—a garmtur. Most disturbing was that the threads felt as if they belonged to him.

That was crazy. He’d never been in this part of the citadel, unless he’d come here while asleep. No creature with the exception of perhaps the eternal Koass could manipulate threads in such away that they would confuse his senses.

<Bannor,> Wren thought. <You want to run that by me again. You’re saying you sealed that room?>

He nodded. Realized he was invisible and sighed. <Yes. At least, it looks like it.>

<So, are we to believe you’ve been using your savant powers in your sleep… or that there’s another one of you running around? > Ziedra asked.

The question made his skin prickle. Another one of him? He’d certainly experienced stranger things.

<Lords, I hope not,> Wren said. <One Bannor is bad enough.>

<There is something else at work here,> Corim said. <Something to do with time. There appears to be a residual time diffraction…> His thought trailed off. <But that can’t be… A chronal diffraction can’t be isolated… can it?>

<What the blazes are you mumbling about?> Ziedra asked. <Are you saying time has been disturbed?>

<It appears so,> Corim answered. <Behind that door anyway, within the confines of that room.>

<So, does that mean we should open it, or not?> Daena asked.

<That phenomena can’t exist in a confined space as far as I know,> Corim answered. <So, I haven’t a clue.>

<So, who would know?> Bannor asked.

<Dulcere.>

<Well, ask her then…>

There was a pause, then a soft buzzing in Bannor’s mind. Through his link to the others he felt them twitch a little. A feminine voice echoed in their minds. <Yes, Corim?>

The warrior described the situation.

<Quite puzzling, and rather intriguing,> Dulcere determined after a few moments. <Is the hall area where you are at secure?>

<Wait,> Wren thought. Bannor felt her rush off down the passage in a hiss of air.

<I’ll check the other end,> Daena added, moving off in the other direction.

After a few moments Wren reported. <Clear here.>

<No one around,> Daena said. <Go.>

<Secure,> Corim reported.

Before the word even seemed complete in Bannor’s mind, the gold-skinned Kriar was standing in the hall in front of the door. There was no sound, no light, the threads of eternity just abruptly seemed to stretch and flex around a spot in the air through which she seemed to step.

The Kriar smoothed her emerald colored shift, brushed her waist length hair back and studied the door with narrowed black-black eyes. She lifted a hand and touched the surface of the wood with tentative fingers. <A self-contained eco-chronology. Fascinating, I did not know such things could exist outside of a laboratory phase chamber.>

<Pardon?> Bannor said.

<They are sometimes referred to as pocket-universes,> Dulcere told everyone. <An entire chronology with its own set of physical-laws confined within finite boundaries.> Bannor felt her draw a breath. <It appears stable. I admit I am rather curious as to how something like this can exist here or elsewhere…>

<But can we open it?> Bannor asked.

That stopped the ancient creature. <I—> He felt her frown. Here was a creature not used to being uncertain. <Caution says no. I cannot predict what breaking the surface of that isolation field will do. In something like this, there is a devastating amount of potential…> Her thought trailed off.

<Marvelous,> Wren growled the thought. <We can’t leave it here for other people to open though. We sure as heck can’t tell the T’Evagdurans about it, they’ll know we’ve been spying…>

<I better open it,> Bannor thought to everyone. <It’s my magic anyway, or at least it feels like mine.>

<Wait one moment,> Dulcere advised. She closed her eyes and a reddish gleam flickered across the surface of her skin. She drew a breath and floated up off the floor. She did a slow turn, a pale blue light stabbing out from her eyes at each of the savants hovering in the hall. The energy surrounded each one, causing them to jerk as their invisible bodies glowed briefly then faded.

<What was that?> Daena wanted to know. <That felt weird.>

<Anomaly compensation link,> Dulcere responded. <It’s a kind of protective anchor should this thing become unstable.>

Bannor found the implications in that statement troubling. What did she think would happen? He drew a breath. <Now?> He asked tentatively.

Dulcere winced. <Your choice. Be careful.>

<Oookay.> Holding his breath, he reached out and took hold of the latch. After a moment more of feeling the cold metal in his hand, he turned the handle until the bolt pulled back.

He felt the group tensing behind him, teeth gritting in anticipation of something bad. Body tight, hand shivering, heart beginning to pound, he pressed inward.

He heard the other savants draw breaths, and experienced a cold tingle shoot up his arm as his knuckles passed through the surface of something. The sensation immediately made him stop. He looked back to Dulcere. The Kriar’s normally impassive face was screwed up in a wince.

Seeing the door now open, she relaxed a little. Her brow furrowed. <How did that…???>

Her perplexed expression only made Bannor’s trepidation worse. <What?>

<The anomaly signature changed. Dark, that’s not—possible.>

<Huh?> Bannor dipped into his savant senses. The thread patterns around the room had indeed changed subtly. The energy had decreased considerably. <Whoa. I didn’t even feel it shift.>

<It happened right as he touched it,> Corim stated. <Like a great pressure being released.>

<Bizarre,> Daena murmured in their minds. <I felt the falling force around the room invert for just an instant. A pulse that lasted for the blink of an eye.>

<Open it?> Bannor asked. His whole body felt cold.

<Might as well,> Dulcere told him. <If the field was going tear or breach it would have done it the instant your body bridged the dimensional membrane.>

Swallowing, he put his hand against the door and pushed. The valve swung open. As the wood shifted inward there was a flicker of green illumination that shot across the darkened interior. For an instant, the colors of everything in sight seemed to invert, white to black and black to white. A sensation not unlike being caught in a gust of ice cold air washed over him making his skin prickle and his heart freeze. A sharp stab hit him in the temple and in back of his head where he felt his nola.

“Ack!” Wren let out a sound.

“Ooof.” Ziedra chimed in.

“Ow.” Daena grunted.

Bannor staggered back a step, gripping his head. He blinked, realizing the wall of threads had vanished. <What the—?>

<What indeed,> Dulcere’s thought rang through him. <The sudden release of that field should have…> She didn’t finish her words. <Interesting, now there appears to be a life-form inside.>

Bannor snatched around. Silhouetted in the torchlight from the corridor was a figure standing in the middle of the small chamber.

<Whoa,> Ziedra murmured in their minds. <That’s some powerful magic.>

<It’s powerful everything,> Corim added.

Behind him, Bannor heard metal slide against metal, the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed.

The figure in the room remained stationary.

<Bannor, you must be standing in a mirror,> Daena thought to him. <Whatever is in there, feels like you.>

<Zee, put some light in there,> Wren directed.

Bannor felt elemental threads tapped and a ball of illumination appeared near the center of the room, bathing the creature in light. The person was definitely not Bannor.

The male, Bannor could tell that now, was about a hand shorter than himself, dressed in a plain black tunic and breeches. He stood in the center of the room with his arms folded and eyes closed as though he’d fallen asleep standing up. His smooth hairless face with its sunken cheeks and upturned eyes suggested elven heredity. He wore his thick reddish brown hair tied back in a tail much the way Bannor did his own. Despite being slim, the young man’s body was heavily sculpted with muscle evident even through the tunic.

<Sure is cute,> Daena remarked.

<Why is he just standing there?> Bannor wondered. <Is he dead?>

<That’s an awful lot of life-force for somebody dead,> Corim answered.

Bannor leaned forward. What was this creature? It wasn’t a pantheon lord. He felt a tingle as if it were a savant, but no savant possessed bio-force like that. He glanced at Daena. His threads and energy level more closely resembled Daena than anyone else. The signature wasn’t right for him to be a first one though.

He slid a step closer to examine this new individual. There was something familiar about the aura, the texture of the threads of this creature. Where had he sensed energies like those before?

He blinked. <Baronian?>

<Baronian?> Dulcere repeated, the incredulity clear in her thoughts.

<It’s there,> Bannor responded. <He feels like a savant and a Baronian.>

<A Baronian/savant coupling?> Ziedra said. <That sure would make beautiful babies. If it could work… but it can’t… can it?>

<I concur,> Dulcere responded after a moment. <There are definitely helices associated with Baronian make-up in him.>

<That can’t be. Savant’s don’t breed true, that was the big deal with Wren’s family,> Ziedra said. <That couldn’t happen again… could it?>

<Not impossible,> Wren responded.

The young man took a deep breath, chest swelling and body shuddering.

The sudden movement made Bannor lurch. The boy was definitely alive.

The intruder drew another breath, unfolded his arms and stretched. He opened glowing eyes much like Daena’s only they cast a rosy violet illumination across his cheekbones.

“Oh, hello,” he said in languid voice that had an echoing quality to it. Something about the mesmerizing tone of it made Bannor’s skin prickle. “Seems I’ve been waiting here forever.” He sighed and rolled his head side to side. “Then again, I suppose by the principle of temporal coalescence, I have been waiting forever.”

The more Bannor saw of this creature, the more alarming he became. As it woke up, more and more threads had begun to spiral around its aura. His heart was pounding and he didn’t know why. This creature was totally new to him, yet there was something familiar as well. “Waiting for what?”

The young man raised an eyebrow. He put his hands behind his back and made a little shake of his head.

<Us, Bannor,> Wren thought. <He was waiting for us.>

The young man smiled and pointed toward Wren with a nod.

“You can see us, and hear our thoughts?”

The intruder nodded.

<The principal of temporal coalescence,> Dulcere told everyone. <Is the idea that all linear time coexists simultaneously and in parallel. Within certain field limits, all of cosmological time can be compressed into a single chronon.>

“Eloquently stated Belkirin Starbinder,” the newcomer said with a bow to Dulcere. He looked toward Bannor. “You can call me, Kell.”

“All right, Kell,” Bannor said. “And why are you here?”

The young man didn’t answer but moved forward, gliding across the floor with languid steps. Not knowing this creature, but feeling its power, Bannor backed up out of the way. As Kell stepped into the hall, Dulcere moved clear too.

Hands again behind his back. Kell turned his head to look at Dulcere. “I like it,” he said. “You are so beautiful in green. Yet you wore it so rarely.” He sighed. “I always thought Kriar women were beautiful. Especially your mother. Truly an empress among your kind.” The smile on his face melted. “Protect them, protect them as only you, Quasar and Eclipse can. You have to settle your differences to succeed.”

He turned toward Corim. “And for light’s sake get off the bloody fence. You can love them both. Stop being so damned afraid.”

“You know us?” Wren asked.

“Indeed, Sister, I do.” He made a sweeping gesture and hovering figures of everyone became visible. He made a down gesture with his palm and all the already surprised people hovering in the corridor dropped to the floor.

Ziedra gripped the side of her head. “Ow. Hey!”

“If there were more time.” He looked to Wren. “I would express my admiration.” He focused on Ziedra. “Confess my infatuation.” He turned to Daena. “And tell you how much I love you.” He rocked his head back and drew a breath. His gaze fixed on Daena. “Now, I must do something I know will upset you all.”

He rolled his shoulders forward and stepped toward the auburn-haired savant.

“What?” Daena’s eyes widened. She stepped back.

Corim stepped in front of her, Shaladen blade pointed at Kell’s chest. “No. Explain yourself.”

Kell looked down at the powerful weapon, the tip hovering hairs from the surface of his skin. “I have nothing but respect and regard for the Shael Dal. So many of them were so good to me and good for me. Shining examples of what men and women should be.” He looked up to meet Corim’s eyes. “You included.”

He reached toward the blade.

“Do not,” Corim raised the blade to Kell’s throat.

Kell sighed. He snatched the blade and a flare of energy lashed back along it into Corim.

The power burst into the burly man’s chest smashing him into the wall with a groan. As Corim’s limp frame slid down the granite, Dulcere with a gleaming blade of light in her hand was instantly in his place pressing the glowing weapon against Kell.

The intruder let go of the Shaladen he was still holding. It dropped to the floor with a clunk. He looked down at the tip of the light weapon burning the fabric of the shirt he was wearing.

“You have to let me pass,” he said. “There is little time left.”

<Is he okay?> Dulcere asked.

Ziedra skittered over by Corim, and put a hand next to his neck and felt his chest. “He’s just stunned.”

Kell’s hands dropped to his sides. He shook his head. “Lords you are so beautiful. Your little sister grows up to be so magnificent, my chest aches thinking of her.”

<My—?>

Kell rocked his head back and turned his hands outward. Bannor saw threads all around Dulcere bend and twist. He started to interfere but it happened in the blink of an eye. The light weapon in the Kriar’s hand winked out and she rocked back with a gasp, body shuddering and convulsing she dropped to her knees, clutching herself.

He had to stop this kid. Bannor found the thickest of Kell’s threads and reached for them. Before his psychic fingers had even closed, Kell was staring at him and in that instant he felt his own threads yanked and tangled. A crushing pressure clamped down on his throat. Pain jolted through his body causing him to let out a gasp. His links to eternity were being pinched off, and pushing with all his strength didn’t lessen the pressure at all.

Kell’s glowing magenta eyes narrowed. “You’ve never been on the receiving end of your own power have you? Hurts doesn’t it? Especially when you feel all your magic being sheared away. How many creatures have you done this to? I’m certain they all remember it for a long time.”

“Kell,” Wren growled. “Stop it. I won’t warn you again.”

Kell made a slapping gesture toward Bannor that felt like getting kicked in the stomach by a mule. All of the air left his lungs in a stunning rush. He dropped to his knees making futile gasps for air that wouldn’t come.

The intruder turned to Wren, Ziedra, and Daena. Ziedra’s hands were glowing and she looked frightened. Wren too looked uncertain. Daena’s face had a stony expression.

The young man turned his head to one side. “Sister, mother, goddess, what exactly are you going to do if I don’t?”

A dagger appeared in Wren’s fingers and was flying at Kell so fast Bannor barely saw her move. As fast as the movement happened, the blade passed through empty air. Kell was standing behind Wren with an arm braced around her throat.

“You always told me, never waste time with retorts and rhetoric. I—”

Ziedra interrupted him by snatching a handful of Kell’s long hair. “Hurt her and I swear to Gaea I will blow your frelling head off.”

Wren pried at the man’s arm, trying to kick and struggle out of his grasp, to gouge a rib or in some way break free. Whatever her efforts, Kell seemed unconcerned and unaffected by any of it.

“With a hell-seeker I suppose?” Kell said, leaning his head to look at her. “In these close quarters? You want to kill me, not everyone in this corridor.”

“Shut up, damn you,” She doubled her fist in his hair. “Let go of her.”

Kell moaned leaning back against her hand. “Lords, I wanted you to touch me for so long. Even in anger.”

Ziedra snarled, the glow of magic around her hands brightening.

The young man’s eyes fluttered.

The dark-haired savant gasped. “Uck.” She let out an incoherent sound, body trembling and shaking. She staggered back apparently unable to control her limbs.

Kell leaned forward, his lips next to the blonde savant’s ear. “Liandra,” he whispered. His voice seeming to echo throughout the hall. “I can see myself.”

Wren’s eyes went wide. Bannor felt his skin prickle, his heart seeming to freeze in his chest. What could he do? His Nola was in knots. His body wouldn’t move.

The young man pressed his lips to the back of Wren’s head. “I love you.” He rocked his head back eyelids fluttering. The blonde woman shuddered and went lax in his arms. He lowered her gently to the floor.

“What the frell are you?!” Daena cried.

He pressed his hands together. “Cute. At least you said so. Daena this won’t be easy. You’re so young and you have such a gigantic responsibility.” He stepped forward.

“Stay away,” she thrust her palm at him. The air in the hall shuddered with the massive force she directed at him. Bannor felt his ears pop.

Daena’s nola power crashed into Kell’s chest, rocking him back a step, and causing his clothes and hair to fly as though in a hurricane gust. He should have been smashed into jelly.

Kell started forward again.

“No!” Daena said. Bannor felt the energies well up in her, far stronger than anything he had ever felt the girl summon. “Go back!” She jabbed with her fist.

The atmosphere in the hall appeared to writhe and contort around Daena’s outstretched hand. The rocks hummed, and Bannor felt his flesh rippling as the lance of nola energy stabbed out.

The impact shredded Kell’s shirt and made a fiery red marring spread across his bare skin. The impetus knocked the young man back a step but little else.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to hurt yourself,” Kell said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“The last time a stranger said that, she turned me into a monster! Stay away!”

“You aren’t a monster, Daena,” Kell said. “You’re someone very special.”

Damn it. He didn’t want Daena to get hurt again. He struggled to push through the compulsion and the pain and rise. Making his body press to a stand. “No,” he growled. “Leave her be.”

Kell paused a step from where Daena stood, and glanced toward him. “I can’t. There are great things at stake. Problems that only Daena will be able to solve.”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

Kell looked into Daena’s eyes. “She failed.”

“Fail or not, I don’t want anything else forced on me damn it!”

Kell shook his head. “Sorry.” He started forward.

Daena made another attempt to slam him away with her Nola. He weathered the attack just like the other two. Being in the original form of her spindly former self, her physical resistance was minimal. Kell fended away her physical attacks with swift strokes of his hands.

Bannor grabbed a mass of Kell’s threads with the intent to tangle him up. As soon as he pressed down, a savage jolt seared through his body like a strike of lightning, his nola itself seemed to twist in his head. The sudden pain took the legs out from under him.

Continuing to block Daena’s resistance, Kell knelt and grabbed her around the waist as she finally turned to run.

“No!” Daena wailed.

“Shhh.” Kell hushed pressing his cheek between her shoulder blades.

Daena gasped and rocked her head back. She shuddered.

A humming went through the air, and Kell’s body shimmered as though translucent. Flecks of light spun around the two of them in multicolored vortexes, whirling faster and faster.

The floor and walls trembled as some horrendous force seemed to press in. Daena and Kell’s bodies became silhouettes outlined in the bright light.

Daena let out a cry, the sound dropping in pitch and echoing through the hall. Through the rumbling came a hissing and bubbling sound. Bannor felt a radiant heat press against him, and his bones seemed to vibrate. The silhouette of the young savant’s body grew taller and broader, and a green illumination shone out of her form. The radiance rapidly grew brighter than the magic whirling around her.

In a final rumbling flash that sent gusts hissing through the hall, Daena reappeared, now clothed in the what Bannor could only call a first one’s natural shape. Steam curled off the girl’s huge naked body. She fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands.

Kell was gone.

He looked around. Damn, that would have alerted the whole castle. He scrambled to Dulcere. What his power could do, it could undo—he hoped.

Bannor grabbed the Kriar’s shoulder. His nola was still tangled up from whatever Kell had done, but it seemed to be awakening again. He concentrated, focusing to untangle the blocks that the stranger had twisted in her essence. Strangely, it was as if the boy had put slip knots in the skein. A single pull returned each thread to normal. He could ponder that mystery later. He continued freeing Dulcere’s energy and consciousness.

In a few moments, it was done. He could hear and feel the approach of the citadel guards. If they were seen, especially a giant naked Daena, it would create a scandal that would take a century to cool off.

He shook the Kriar’s shoulder. “Dulcere, up. We need you.”

The ancient female’s eyes opened a crack. <Urmm?>

Damn. She was barely conscious. He needed her alert now. He took hold of her shoulder, calling on the Garmtur to help him. It had been a long time since he tried to summon the magic that way. He had learned a great deal since those first days in the forest outside of Blackwater. Mostly, he had learned not to use the Garmtur like that. He remembered one time, still completely fledgling in his understanding of his nola, making Sarai strong so she could fight Rankorhaaz. The risks he had taken then without even knowing it. It made him shudder to think. He knew it now.

Wake up. Be strong. Get us out of here!

He felt his nola respond with a familiar kick in the ribs. Like a horse happy to be let out of the corral, the energy charged through his body and channeled through his hands into the disoriented female.

As the magic flooded into her, Dulcere’s space-black eyes snapped open, and she gasped. In what must have been a reflex action, her hand latched onto his arm with crushing force. That slender body concealed a horrendous strength.

Gritting through the pain in his arm. “Dulcere—get us out of here—guards are coming. All of us.”

The Kriar snatched around, obviously seeing the scattered bodies of their scouting team, and hearing the now imminent nearness of the guards. She glanced back to him. A pale sheen shot across the surface of her skin, and then a light flared in her eyes.

In that instant, their surroundings shimmered and changed. The stone corridor was replaced with the familiar environs of Malbrion hall and the conference circle. Their appearance drew a chorus of surprised gasps and oaths.

He glanced around confirming that Dulcere had indeed brought everyone. Giant Daena was still sobbing. Corim lay unconscious, Ziedra and Wren lay stunned on the floor.

Sarai, Euriel, and the others closed in around them with words of surprise, concern, and curiosity fast on their lips. As Sarai shook his shoulder, he could only think this wasn’t a very auspicious start to their investigation…

Chapter Fifteen
Ramifications

« ^ »

The rapists scared me, Hella terrified me, and the eternals had me practically soiling myself. What Kell did…I can’t put words to. I just know that my life has been immeasurably complicated by it…
—Daena Sheento,
Ward Prodigal of Malan

Bannor lay on the floor, his head cradled in Sarai’s lap. He had a colossal headache, one of the biggest in more than a season since he stopped the demon army in the valley on the Malan border. Wren, Ziedra, Corim and Dulcere were being tended to with special attention being paid to the statue-like Daena who looked uninjured, but had obviously been profoundly rocked by whatever Kell had done to her. The ones who had stayed behind, wives, husbands, mothers, friends and guardians were all clustered around in the conference circle hovering around the bruised investigators.

“I still don’t understand, what was this Kell creature?” Sarai was asking him. She leaned forward, her silk fine hair tickling Bannor’s cheek. Her brow was furrowed and her violet eyes wide with concern. “A pantheon lord?”

Bannor shook his head. Wincing, he rubbed his temples and moaned. “Something worse, something stronger. At the very least, he was a fully realized savant. He could do things with the Garmtur I could only dream of.”

“The Garmtur?” Euriel looked over from where she was sitting behind Wren massaging the blonde savant’s shoulders. “I thought there were certain limitations to the number and kind of savants that can exist.”

Brow furrowed in obvious discomfort Wren drew a breath and rubbed the back of her head. “When I first learned about savants, I was told that only one of each type of savant could exist. I think that conclusion was only an assumption.” She reached out to her brother who was sitting next to her and the man captured her hand between his in a comforting gesture. “There can probably be a savant for every one of the original first ones. When I joined with Starholme I felt a lineage of thousands…” Her voice trailed off. She was quiet for a moment. “Whoever he was, he worked us like common greens. I don’t think all of it was power though.”

A pulse of pain made the room go fuzzy for a moment. Through narrowed eyes, Bannor peered over at Wren. “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t it apparent?” the blonde savant responded.

“He knew us,” Ziedra grumbled. She relaxed back against her husband, lolling her head back against his shoulder. The gold boy ran his hands gently through her hair. “Bugger knew us intimately, knew our powers and weaknesses.”

“And what exactly did he do to you, Dul?” Senalloy asked. The tall elder lay on the divan near Dulcere and behind Corim who was sitting on the floor back against the foot of the couch. Head propped on an elbow, silver hair falling down around her face the woman’s demeanor made her appear more like a child than a great elder of staggering power.

The Kriar looked down at Senalloy who was looking up at her. The gold woman frowned, the question obviously a source of embarrassment. This incredibly potent elder had been dealt with out-of-hand just like the rest of them. She pressed her lips to a line. The stars in her obsidian eyes appeared to dim. <I am not certain of what he did. He did have a thorough understanding of time, and a knowledge of warping techniques. He claimed to know me and my mother.>

Senalloy’s brow furrowed. “Dul, I know a lot about Kriar, I couldn’t drop you like they’re saying he did. You’re hedging. Tell me.”

The gold female squirmed, obviously troubled by her own conclusion. <He turned off my matrixes.> She touched the glowing jewel on her brow and its mate high on her sternum. <Well, he did after he told them to do an energy purge.> She rubbed her temple. <Dark, that hurt. I am not even sure how that is possible, the designer of these stones put protections in them to prevent such things.>

Corim twisted in discomfort against the foot of the couch, he rocked his head back as Senalloy brushed the strands of hair away from his face. “More disconcerting I think was his ability to disable my Shaladen.” He raised his head and looked around to the other. “It is only half as powerful as the real weapons, but still…” His voice trailed off.

Janai who was rubbing Daena’s huge back made humming noises. They had wrapped a bed spread around the now huge girl, but had yet to get her to say anything coherent. “Strange. What was his intention? Why just Daena? He obviously had the advantage and could have killed any of you.” The elf princess pressed her face against Daena’s shoulder an expression of honest empathy on her face. “Ena,” Janai said in a soothing, almost mesmerizing tone. “Tell us. Tell us what’s wrong.”

“Monster,” Daena rumbled with a sniff.

“Monster?” Janai repeated. “Little sister, you’re not a monster. Come, tell me, what did he do?”

Daena drew a breath, her body slowly animating like a carving of stone coming to life. Her arm shook as she held out a huge hand on which something black sparkled.

Janai leaned forward. “A flux stone? But it’s broken. Whose is it?”

The girl’s voice rumbled. “Mine.”

Wren stiffened and pushed herself up to her feet. “Then how are you…???”

Daena’s gaze dropped back to her lap. “Monster.”

“I don’t understand.” Ryelle said. The eldest sister had been watching the whole proceeding with much interest and apparent vexation, but had kept quiet.

“A flux stone is how an immortal controls their energies,” Sarai explained leaning back from Daena. “Even half and temporary immortals use similar devices to handle the magic.”

Wren walked over and knelt by Daena. She put a hand on her arm. “Dane, you’ve changed. I can feel it. Do you hear voices in your head?”

The young savant’s head swung up, her glowing eyes now wide. “How did you…???”

Wren’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, her expression tight. “Is there a single voice that’s loudest? A kind of deep rumble that echoes and threads through the others?”

Daena’s tear-streaked face turned to an expression of amazement and awe. “Yes, yes! How do I make it stop?”

“You don’t,” Wren said.

The sound of the blonde savant’s voice made Bannor’s skin prickle. He pushed himself up to sit. “Wren, what’s wrong?”

“A lot is wrong,” Wren murmured. She picked the pieces of the flux stone off Daena’s palm. “The reason this is broken is she doesn’t need it anymore. She has a better one.”

“A better one?” Bannor echoed. He felt a twist in his stomach. Something told him that Wren’s ominous tone foreboded something terrible.

“Starholme Prime is now her flux stone. She hears the voices of all the first ones demanding to ‘be’ again.” She put a hand on Daena’s arm. “I’m sorry, it must be scary.”

Tears welled in Daena’s eyes, she rolled onto her knees and took Wren’s shoulders in her huge hands. “Wren, I—I—please…”

“What are you talking about?” Bannor wanted to know.

“I’ll help you, Dane,” Wren said, rubbing the younger savant’s huge arms. “To the best of my ability.” She looked back to Bannor. “Starholme Prime is for lack of better words, a titanic world-sized flux stone. All of eternity’s energies are focused there for the use of the first ones. All of their patterns and memories are stored there. If you know how, you can become not only a first one, but every first one who ever was—and like I did one time—all of them at once. It is…” She dropped her chin. “There isn’t words.”

“And now this child has access to that power?” Senalloy said, sitting up with concerned expression.

“Kell completed her transformation,” Wren said. “She is now a true second generation first one—or a second one if you like.”

“Why in hades would he do that?” Ziedra said. “It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t attack someone to give them power.”

“He said I failed,” Daena murmured.

“Not that you failed,” Bannor corrected. “But that you would fail. Everything he said, crazy as it sounds, was as if—” He paused, rethinking his own conclusion.

<As though he came from the future,> Dulcere finished his thought.

“The future?” Corim said. “Is that possible—I mean without making some huge snarl in the continuum?”

<He spoke of temporal coalescence, we found him in a bubble of diffracted time, he was, for lack of better words, a living time anomaly himself. What is and is not possible for a creature like that would only be speculation on my part.>

“Well, speculation or not,” Wren said. “Daena’s association with Starholme is real. Any savant can access Starholme, we simply don’t have a body properly attuned and durable enough to utilize that magic. Daena now has both.” She put a hand against the huge savant’s cheek.

“What do I do, Wren?” Daena murmured taking Wren’s hand and clinging to it like it was her last hope. “I’m scared. It scares me. It’s not like when I merged with Hella the first time…”

“Shhh,” Wren said in a gentle voice. She turned to the dark-haired princess. “Janai, may I?”

Janai frowned but rose and stepped out of the way as Wren went behind the sitting form of Daena and put her hands on the now giant girl’s shoulders. “Your form hasn’t really changed, Dane. Kell just synchronized you. You have more control than before, it just doesn’t feel like it because of all these other new sensations.” Wren leaned forward, forehead pressing between Daena’s shoulder blades. “Feel me, Sister. Accept me. Let me show you…” Wren’s voice drifted off but a blue illumination surrounded her body.

Daena’s eyes fluttered and her body shuddered.

Bannor blinked as he saw what appeared to be millions of threads line up around Daena and begin to spin and dance. He swallowed. The glare making him wince back against Sarai. “Lords,” he gasped.

A brilliant nimbus gleamed on the surface of Daena’s skin. The auburn haired savant rocked her head back and made a moaning sound. “Oh…my…” Even those two simple words seemed to echo.

In Bannor’s nola sight, thousands of threads hummed and vibrated. Seeing it made his stomach knot and his heart flutter. So much power, one slip and all of them would be annihilated. No one else felt or saw the danger.

Daena took a shuddering breath. She moaned again. “Wrennn… what… are… you… nnnh.”

“Just…finding… your voice, Sister,” Wren answered.

“I—ahhh!” Daena jerked. A flare of brighter light flooded into the room from the auburn-haired savant casting shadows on everything. Making everyone stagger back a step.

“There,” Wren said. The color around Daena turned from white to a deep violet hue. Thousands of threads seemed to compress together. “Dane, do you feel it? Do you hear it?”

“What? Hear? I—” Her eyes went round. “Yesss.” She drew another breath. She bowed her head. The illumination on her skin shimmered, and a bubbling sound came from her flesh.

The atmosphere around Daena began to churn, making hair and clothing rustle and flick. A pulsation hummed through the floor the as the glow around the young savant surged in brightness then dimmed in a steady rhythm. Ripples pinging back and forth across her exposed flesh, the woman decreased in size by halting stages.

Daena seemed to struggle, wincing and tensing at each progressively smaller step. When she had returned to the moderate stature she possessed earlier in the day she stopped with a gasp.

“Damn,” she murmured. “Why is it so hard all of sudden? I have the control back… better like you said.”

Wren blinked and rubbed her eyes. “You’re fighting the equilibrium. Because of the extra energy, your form has a sense for its optimal size. See, after you merged with Hella, your body had something of an intelligence of its own. It’s a kind of a self awareness that knows what to do without you thinking about it. When you want to do something that goes against those instincts—it’s harder.”

Daena pulled the bedspread around herself. “It didn’t use to be that hard.”

“The intelligence used to be in the flux stone, now it’s in Starholme Prime. More power, greater consciousness and will.”

“Li,” Euriel said. “How do you know this though? I don’t recall you ever mentioning it.”

Wren looked to the blonde woman. “Well, not directly, Mother. I always wondered why the first ones bothered to give their beta bodies self will. It wasn’t until I was actually in such a body that I realized why.”

<Instincts, reaction-time,> Dulcere put in. <The same reasons the Kriar designed a certain amount of ‘intelligence’ into our bodies.>

“Designed?” Bannor asked.

The gold woman sighed. <Yes. Many eons ago, we began redesigning ourselves to improve our quality of life, our efficiency and capabilities. In naturally evolved creatures, things like breathing and how fast your heart beats are instincts. You can’t, without a great deal of training, control them. Even then the control is not particularly refined. The kind of control Wren is describing is specific. The body does what you want… you essentially tell it, and it knows what to do.>

“That’s what happened to the first ones,” Wren said looking around to everyone. “They made their new bodies too smart, or at least smart enough to realize they didn’t want to be subjugated.”

“Creepy,” Ziedra said.

“So,” Janai said, leaning over Daena. “You going to be all right now?”

The young woman nodded. She looked up at Wren. “I think we need to talk more. I know I haven’t always been nice…”

Wren waved her off. “We both know why you were miffed with me, and that’s hardly an issue now, right?”

Daena dipped her head. She glanced up at Bannor and furtively toward Sarai. The young woman pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Daena,” Wren said. “I called you a sister. I believe it. I mean it. Just like Bannor is my brother, and Zee is my other sister. I hope you’ll truly think of all of us the same way.”

“I apologize,” Princess Ryelle said. “If Ward Daena will be alright now, I would like to focus on another issue. Jan go get her into some clothes.” She looked to Bannor. “You four went out to solve a problem to help my parents. In my mind, you have exacerbated the situation. The citadel is a hive with guards running everywhere to discover the source of the commotion you four caused!”

Janai coaxed Daena to her feet. The young savant was no longer huge but she was still a formidable size for a woman, broad across the shoulders and hips, not at all like the thin-limbed almost scrawny kid that Bannor first rescued in an alley on an unknown world. Somehow, she seemed more solid now. The threads that flickered around her wound tight and under tension. She followed the princess into the back area toward Sarai’s quarters.

Sarai watched until they were out of sight around a corner and looked back to her older sister. “Rye, that’s not their fault.”

Ryelle pointed a finger. “Sister, I do not agree. My wishes in this matter were ignored. Their leaving created the opportunity for the situation to arise. I surely hope there is no trace for Mother to follow back here.”

<There shouldn’t be,> Dulcere’s thought told them.

Ryelle focused on the Kriar woman. “Are you certain?”

The elder creature narrowed her eyes. She pressed her lips to a line. <At another time I might be certain. However,> she glanced at Corim and then to Bannor. <I have recently learned that magick can do a great deal.>

“There’s nothing really to be done for a strong divination,” Ziedra offered with a shrug. “Knowing something about magic though, I can back up Lady Dulcere’s statement. That travel power of hers is very clean, as traceless as can be reasonably accomplished—especially given the circumstances under which it was used.”

Ryelle growled. The eldest princess thrust her hands behind her back. “I am much displeased with this. More trouble with absolutely nothing to show for it.”

“Rye, in a way, the encounter gives us some confirmation…”

“Speculation only, little sister!” Ryelle burst out. “You are not the only one concerned about our sire and dama. Speculation is the enemy. It is not what we know, it what the citizens and gentry surmise…”

“Arminwen,” Senalloy said in a soothing tone. “Not to worry. We still have considerable resources here—and ways to complete an investigation without stepping foot out of these chambers.”

“What?” Ryelle demanded. “You mean no-one had to leave to—to—”

Senalloy held up her hands. “Peace. I took the liberty of tying a trace filament to them. They needed to thread their way through your mother’s wards for that to be effective. So their effort was not wasted. They pulled that sense magic through a large portion of the citadel. It should be possible to view adjacent areas anywhere along that path.”

“Oooh,” Ziedra said, dark eyes round. “That’s a nice bit of magic, I never even saw you do it.”

Senalloy’s voice lowered. “If you did, it would be much less useful.”

“Yes,” Sarai said. “I’m curious as to why you failed to mention it.”

The Baronian woman shrugged. “Habit in my line of work.”

“Another sneak,” Sarai murmured, glancing at Wren. “Just what we need.”

The blonde savant frowned.

“The biggest problem is we don’t know what we are looking for,” Bannor said.

“Actually, we do,” Euriel offered. “Somebody or something that doesn’t belong.”

Vanidaar, Wren’s father rose from his sitting place on the couches. The red-haired man had always been something of an enigma to Bannor, an oddity his nola never seemed to be able to unravel. All he really knew of the gentleman was that he was a savant, that he was a powerful battle-mage, that he cared deeply for his family, and that he had strong sense of honor and courage. The few times Bannor had heard him speak at any length, it was obvious the man was quite intelligent and insightful. Running a hand through his hair, Vanidaar stepped closer to the Baronian mage.

“Lady Senalloy, a question.”

The silver haired woman nodded in response.

“This scrying of yours,” the man continued. “Can it be linked with bindings, bound to other magicks—perhaps those which filter and detect life essence?”

Senalloy pressed a long-nailed finger to her lips obviously considering the question. After a moment, she dipped her head brow furrowing. “I assume a coven binding, so that someone else could tap into it?”

“Precisely, milady, we have several strong mages here,” he nodded to his wife, Ziedra, and Radian. “And those with special senses. Where adventures afoot failed, a fine eye might prevail.”

The woman brushed at her silvery hair and glanced at Euriel. She raised an eyebrow. “Aye. An excellent thought. I will need a suitable focus, however, someplace to channel that magick.”

All the mage stuff usually gave Bannor a headache, it just a bunch of strange rituals and odd disciplines. “You mean like a crystal ball or something.” He laughed. “Or a magic mirror.”

Euriel straightened and pointed a finger. “Good thought. There are many enchantment quality mirrors hereabouts.” She turned to his fiancé. “Sarai, is there a mirror you would allow us to use?”

His wife-to-be seemed stunned for a moment. “Just any mirror?”

“Best size would be no smaller than, oh,” Euriel held up her hands a shoulder width apart. “And good quality, but that’s unlikely to be a problem.”

“Yesss…” Sarai drew the word out. She looked back toward her chambers. “Ah.” She waved to one of the maids. “Delee, fetch the dressing mirror from the Morlind guest suite.”

The maid dipped her head and rushed off to do Sarai’s bidding.

She looked back to Euriel. “And you can turn an ordinary mirror into a viewing glass? I thought such scrying devices took a great deal of enchanting.”

“There are short-cuts,” Vanidaar said.

“And spells that are out of the reach of many mages,” Senalloy added.

Ziedra rubbed her hands together. “New magic, I love it. Radian’s parents are far too stingy with their magic.”

The gold boy frowned and shot her a hurt expression. “They’re not stingy. They’re conservative. Especially after you were Aarlen’s apprentice for so long.”

The dark-haired savant shrugged.

Sarai put a hand on Bannor shoulder. “Do you think this will work?”

Bannor smiled. “Of course. We’ve both seen a lot more amazing things than that.”

The maid struggled out into the hall with a large mirror in a crafted wooden frame. Her muted gasps of effort had the male folk in the room striding over to assist her with the burden. Only moments and one creation spell later, they had the intricately carved mirror on a stand in the middle of the conversation circle and the mages working their craft around it.

As their enchantments were progressing, Janai and Daena returned from the back hall. The auburn-haired savant was dressed in a short skirt that seemed stressed to contain her broad hips. If there was anything to be said about physical shapes that seemed to come naturally to the first ones, they were less than subtle creatures. Daena’s top was a silk robe cut short obviously to cover proportions elf-sized attire normally would not. The girl seemed more at ease, but a great deal of discomfort and agitation remained present in her aura; something Bannor totally understood given what had happened to the girl.

“You all right?” he asked her when they drew close.

Daena drew a breath and met his gaze. “Physically—fine.” She glanced at Janai who was looking on with a concerned expression. She focused glowing green eyes on him. “I—this new thing—it’s scary.”

“Wren seemed to understand it,” he offered.

Daena pressed her lips together. “Yes. I’m glad she doesn’t hold grudges.” She drew another breath body trembling. “I’m so scared I’m going to lose control.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stick with us like you always have. We’ll get you through it. Haven’t we always?”

Daena swallowed and nodded.

Sarai leaned in to Daena’s line of sight. “Chin up, show us the mettle of true prodigal that you are. Bannor has faith in you, and I trust him implicitly.” She looked up at him. “Even if he is a royal pain in the arse sometimes.”

Janai raised an eyebrow. “Anytime you decide you don’t want him sister…”

Sarai frowned at her. “Hush you.”

Behind them Senalloy hummed. “Ah yes, now it is working. Well done, Vanidaar.”

“Thank you,” the red-haired man answered. “It is a pleasure working with a skilled sorceress.”

“So this must be balcony where you entered?” Euriel asked.

“Yes,” Ziedra answered. “That’s where I had to bend the ward.”

Ryelle, who was standing behind the group clustered around the mirror was rubbing her throat and looking uncomfortable. “I find it troubling that the three of you can so easily bypass the citadel scrying security.”

Euriel looked back with a grin. “Good thing we’re allies, eh?”

Ryelle sniffed. “Indeed.”

“Kal sure has things battened down tight,” Euriel remarked. “Guards everywhere.”

Bannor stepped around to the middle of the conference circle where he could see the mirror. The glass now resembled a glowing window looking into another place. Along the edges, dark tendrils of energy crackled and fizzed. Senalloy, Vanidaar, and Euriel stood together slightly apart staring into the image. Vanidaar seemed to be controlling the vision with his outstretched hand, the view changing facing, pitching and yawing as he moved his fingers.

Wren came up beside Sarai to look in. Ziedra drifted up into the air to look over the heads of the taller people. After a moment, the dark-haired savant drew her gold husband into the air to join her in her aerial vantage. Even Tymoril and Kegari the giant dragon ladies were curious to see the display of magic. With their huge height it was easy for them to see over the others.

“This is really wizard, Dad,” Wren remarked.

Vanidaar grinned.

Wren’s brother came up behind her in silence and draped his arms around her neck to look over her head. The blond savant pushed back against him.

“So where should we look?” Euriel asked.

“Perhaps we should start by looking in the place where the encounter occurred to see what’s happening.” Ryelle offered from the rear of the group.

Euriel shrugged and looked to Vanidaar. The red-haired man simply pushed out his lip, and made a kind of grasping gesture which made the view blur, corridors and side passages rushing by, twisting and pivoting as though at gigantic speed.

Janai and Daena joined the gathering followed by Corim and Dulcere, all eyes trained intently on the glass.

The scene of their fight with Kell appeared pretty much as Bannor expected, a dozen guards turning the area upside down looking for some clue as to what caused the noise and rumbling. It occurred to him then.

“You know I just realized something,” Bannor said his voice dropping.

Wren turned to look at him. “What?”

“Well,” he said. “When we were outside of the citadel, I remember seeing two or three of those dead spots. With all the excitement with Kell, I forgot that there were—ummm, two others.”

“Oh great,” Wren said. “Nice thing to forget!”

“Sorry, things were a bit intense there.”

“Do you remember where those other places were?” Vanidaar asked.

“They weren’t far from where we found Kell. The places didn’t seem more than a few dozen paces apart.”

“It looks like the guards have searched all the nearby rooms,” Ziedra remarked from overhead.

“Aye,” Senalloy agreed. “The room doors all down that hall have been opened.”

<It is likely there is no cause for alarm,> Dulcere told everyone. <I think we can safely assume that Kell’s interdimensional room was essentially a trap baited to catch us. It is not unreasonable, and fully possible, for such a construct to have several real world extrusions.>

“You mean no matter which one we opened we would have found him?” Ziedra asked.

<Simply put, yes,> Dulcere answered. <I surmise all the other spaces collapsed when the instance that we opened did.>

“But you are only guessing?” Ryelle asked.

<Any surmise not backed by verified evidence is a ‘guess’,> the Kriar woman responded. <It is my educated guess, that there is no danger at this time.>

Bannor let out a breath. He hoped that was true.

“Arminwen,” Corim said. “I find Dulcere’s guesses often more dependable than other people’s facts.”

Ryelle raised a hand. “There is no point in disputing it.” She gestured to the mirror. “So, leave us view something else, this is not productive.”

“Hmmm,” Janai said. “Scouting is bad, but spying is okay.”

The eldest sister gave her a cold stare. Janai swayed back from her intensity but kept a smile on her face.

Vanidaar shrugged and they continued their inspection, the vision flitting through hall after hall, going past dozens of unsuspecting people. While the sights themselves were not of particular interest to Bannor, the mere size of the citadel made him shake his head. It was not titanic like the Kriar way-point was, but still this was something created by creatures of his world.

The “spying” as Janai called it continued as Vanidaar, Senalloy, and Euriel patiently probed every adjacent space.

“I must say Kalindinai is thorough,” Senalloy said. “She knows how to do a security sweep.”

They continued to pan through hall after hall, doing cursory examinations of various rooms, halls, and galleries. The magic made it possible to thoroughly scour a huge amount of area in a fraction of the time it would take several people on foot. Doors, gates, and seals were no impediment to their investigation, even darkened areas could be magically illuminated to make out the details.

“Nothing,” Sarai murmured. “Could this Kell have been the assassin? I know it makes no sense.”

“No,” Ziedra said. “It doesn’t fit him. He was too strong and in control. A couple of house guards would not have known he was there if he didn’t want it.”

Senalloy, Vanidaar, and Euriel remained focused on the task, patiently peering through room after room, swooping down passages past elven maids, stewards, and citadel guards. Bannor drew a breath, the citadel was huge, even at the speed of magic it might take bells or even days—there were thousands of places a person or persons could conceal themselves.

The view swept around a corner into a main gallery past a group of elves.

Bannor stiffened. “Stop! What was that?”

“What was what?” Euriel asked.

“Quick,” Bannor said. “Turn around, look back toward that group you just passed.”

Vanidaar swung the view around. Dressed in the deep blue of the T’Evagduran royal colors were six maids and stewards gathered in a group. They appeared to be doing nothing other than conversing.

“I see nothing,” Euriel said.

“No, they aren’t what I saw,” Bannor pressed. “It moved.”

Vanidaar panned the view around.

Bannor pushed forward next to Senalloy and pointed. “There, that small hall!”

The red-haired mage frowned and complied. The view slid across to the far side of gallery and into a small service passage. Just as their vision entered, Bannor saw what looked like a shadow slide around a corner ahead.

“There, at the corner!”

Vanidaar shook his head, but kept the magic eye moving. As the magic turned the corner in the tight corridor Bannor saw what appeared to be the edge of cloak disappear around the next turn.

“There, I saw it this time,” Sarai chimed in. “It’s like a ghost or something!”

Vanidaar tightened his hand and leaned forward. They appeared to shoot forward and around the next turn.

Outlined in the hall going away from them was a translucent figure hard to see in the poor light of the servant’s hall. The creature looked tall and wore a long hooded cloak that trailed as it moved briskly forward.

“What is that?” Janai asked.

“I do not believe we need many guesses,” Senalloy said.

“Damn, you have good eyes, Bannor,” Wren said.

“Leave us reveal this entity in more detail,” Euriel said. “Swing around ahead of it.”

Vanidaar nodded. Their perspective shot forward and turned. Senalloy and Euriel both gestured at the mirror, and the translucent almost invisible creature appeared to suddenly become solid.

What the two mages had done was not just enhance their magical view because the interloper suddenly halted in the hall, and gazed at its now solid dusky-skinned long nailed hands.

“For my next question,” Janai said with a shake of her head. “Daena, if you’re here—” She pointed at the mirror. “What are you doing there…?”

Dressed in long robes, auburn hair trailing out from under a voluminous hooded cloak was Daena…

Chapter Sixteen
Mirror Prodigal

« ^ »

Ever since my daughter Janai took on Daena Sheento as her ward prodigal I have had a certain misgivings. Not from Daena herself mind you, she is a bright child with incredible potential. While she has some streaks of self-interest and meanness in her, she is essentially a good girl with no particular ambitions beyond wanting some purpose and happiness in her life. No, it is not Daena that worries me. It is Janai. Daena is young and impressionable, and dreadfully starved for affection and acceptance. Something that makes her vulnerable to Janai’s impetuous charms—and Daena’s incredible power is such a strong temptation. Janai will get them into trouble, it’s not a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’…
—Kalindinai T’Evagduran,
Queen of Malan

Bannor stared over the shoulders of the three mages into the magic seeing mirror that the three of them had created. The image showed the unmistakable profile of Daena dressed in hooded translucent robes. The woman they were viewing was not the savant of attractions changed by Hella into the physical form of Gaea’s progeny the first ones. Apparently, the impostor was probably unaware that Daena could and did change her appearance with magic. The interloper’s impression of Daena while accurate was a bit dated.

“That witch stole my shape!” Daena snarled.

“So it would appear,” Senalloy remarked. “It also is something of a confirmation that the initial target was indeed Daena.”

“To replace her?” Ziedra mused.

“As a mole close to Janai, or to get at Janai herself?” Euriel mused.

“That we won’t know until I have my hands around her throat,” Janai growled.

“Ryelle,” Senalloy asked. “Do you have a way to send word to your mother about the package we are following?”

The eldest princess drew a breath. “Yes.”

“She’s bolting,” Wren cried.

“Not to worry,” Vanidaar said. “I have the signature of her life force.”

The image followed the fake Daena as she rushed down the passage turning corners with apparent familiarity.

“Could she actually sense the scrying?” Ziedra asked floating overhead. “I know I could but…”

“We keep saying she… it could be a ‘he’,” her husband added drifting next to her.

“Mother has acknowledged me,” Ryelle reported. “What do I tell her?”

“For the moment,” Euriel said. “Just that our scrying has turned up a spy disguised as Daena. She’s in the servant’s passages on the west side of main hall, third level, heading east… no, north.”

“Dammit, we can see her, Senalloy or Dulcere can just grab her,” Wren said.

“No,” Ryelle said. “Mother must be the one to catch her.”

Euriel looked back. “We don’t know how powerful this agent is. It could be a risk.”

“I have faith in Mother and Father,” the eldest princess answered.

“I don’t recognize any of these places,” Daena said.

Janai shook her head with a frown on her face. “I remember playing in some of these passages when I was child, but it was a long time ago.”

“Kalindinai just has to catch her,” Bannor said, glancing back at Ryelle. “No one has to know we helped.”

“Brother to be, they have done enough,” Ryelle responded.

Sarai put a hand on his shoulder. “What did you have in mind, My One?”

Bannor eyed the fleeing woman. She obviously knew the passages well, and was skirting the major galleries and corridors where she might be seen. He’d never tried to use the Garmtur across a great distance like this. However, he’d never been able to see the target so clearly either.

“Lady Senalloy, if you would permit me to touch your shoulder.”

The silver-haired elder raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Bannor placed his hand against Senalloy’s shoulder and felt for the common threads he sensed would be there. Yes, like Wren and Euriel, there was a kind of binding thread similar to what alpha and beta first ones shared. His brow furrowed, so were Baronians somehow related or similar to the creatures created by the first ones? He pushed that thought aside and concentrated on sharing his senses with Senalloy the way he had with Wren and Ziedra.

The elder stiffened next to him. “Aie!” She reached back and gripped his hand. “Oooh.” She relaxed. “You scared me for a moment. Yes. I see.” She pulled his hand down and laced his fingers in hers. She raised her chin, eyes narrowing.

In Bannor’s sight the image in the mirror changed, slowly by degrees he began to see the silhouettes and shadows of the threads of the eternity. He closed his eyes feeling the bones of the ancient citadel around him. He felt the tension of emotions swirling like eddies in turbulent water. Pockets of magic burned hot in spots throughout the gigantic shell of rock and wood that was the body of Kul’Amaron. He tuned his senses, listening and feeling for a heartbeat now long familiar to him.

After moments of probing, he found it. He felt excitement now, tension finding release and directing it. He experienced a fit body now pelting down a corridor. Through this disjointed consciousness specific images were impossible, but he knew the fleeing impostor and Kalindinai were growing further apart.

Tightening his vision down, he found the imposter’s heart. She knew she was being watched and fleeing for her life. Bannor focused on that thundering heart and hooked a few threads free with delicate care. Feeding the power of the Garmtur into those threads he grew them, stretching their essence out across the distance toward a familiar essence, the pulse that he knew belonged to the Queen.

“Hear her heart, Kalindinai,” he murmured. “Feel her blood course, feel it burn. She’s scared. Feel her fear.”

He felt Kalindinai snatch up the thread he dangled before her, her powerful magic seizing on it, analyzing, recognizing and orienting.

“Masterfully done,” Senalloy lauded. “She has her scent now.”

“What did you do, my One?” Sarai asked him.

“I gave Kalindinai something to follow. A thread like what I use to find you.”

“You did that from here?” Ziedra asked.

He nodded.

Senalloy turned her head to one side, brushing back her silver hair. Brow furrowed but a smile on her lips she said, “Bannor, this power of yours is fascinating.” She narrowed her eyes. “Every aspect, every iota of power, emotion, and intellect all expressed in patterns of threads. Not only is it versatile, the effects can be almost infinitely refined. If only I had more of your natural sense for it…” Bannor felt a tingling in the back of his head. “Oh yes, you see so much more clearly. They aren’t just threads, they are colors, visions, instincts. So intriguing. To slow her down, all we really need to do is give a little tug, right… there.”

Arms wheeling, the fleeing impostor stumbled, missed a turn and careened headlong into a wall at a full run.

Vanidaar and Euriel flinched back.

“Oh my,” Senalloy said in that languid voice. “Equilibrium is such a tricky thing.”

Bannor winced rubbing his forehead. He knew that had to have hurt.

“I’ve always found it difficult to get my bearings after a tumble like that. Actually, it’s difficult to simply stand up… especially with that ringing in your ears and the world spinning round and round.” She made a little twirling motion with her index finger.

The fake Daena staggered to her feet, swaying and catching herself against the wall. She careened from one wall to the next, bracing against the vertical surfaces like a sodden drunk.

“She has a strong will,” Euriel remarked.

“If she is an agent of some kind, isn’t there some concern she might kill herself?” Ziedra asked.

“Kalindinai is closing in,” Bannor reported. “I can feel her.”

“Then we simply need to keep her focused on other concerns,” Vanidaar rumbled. He made a twisting motion with his outstretched hand, clenching his fingers into a fist.

The staggering woman stumbled to stop and clutched her chest. Bannor couldn’t hear it, but he could see and sense her gasps for breath. As she twisted in the window of the mirror her eyes were wide with fear.

It was one thing to steel yourself against a suicide of your own doing, and another to have death take you unexpectedly. The woman threw off the robe, tearing at the fabric of her blouse and whatever she must have felt was burrowing in her chest. There was no sound, but her expression and the perspiration pouring down her face indicated the pain she must be in.

“Father…” Wren said. “Are you…”

The mage stayed focused. “Daughter, it is painful. Leave us not forget this is a murderer—a person here with the intent to kill any who gets in her way.”

“Aie.” Corim mumbled from the back. “Remind me never to make enemies amongst you.”

A sudden flash lit up the view, a bright nimbus of light knocking the woman down, streamers of sparks whirling around her twitching arms and legs. A moment later, a swarm of bodies blotted out the view.

“There’s Kalindinai,” Bannor said.

Euriel let out a breath and shook a fist in triumph. “Objective achieved. Good job, Bannor!” She clapped him on the shoulder.

Vanidaar relaxed whatever magic he had been performing and the mirror became a simple reflection in silvered glass again. “Well done everyone.” He glanced back to Ryelle. “I hope we are redeemed in your eyes, Istar’Arminwen.”

The first princess drew herself up and nodded. “It was satisfactory. Do not call this a success yet. Mother may still sense our hand in this and call us to task.”

“There will be many questions to answer,” Sarai mused. “How did she get in the citadel? How long has she been masquerading as Daena? Who else has she impersonated? She obviously had exceptional knowledge of Kul’Amaron.”

“Leave that all to Mother,” Janai said. “I’m just glad she’s caught.”

“It’s not over,” Daena growled. “What if she had accomplices?”

“Be calm,” Senalloy said. “Queen Kalindinai seems quite thorough, I’m certain all the right questions will be asked.”

“It’s easy for you to be calm—” Daena snapped back. “You weren’t the target!”

“I don’t know,” Bannor said. “Didn’t you say it was getting boring around here?”

The auburn-haired savant glared at him. “I didn’t mean like this.”

Ziedra still floating in the air above the group sighed. “What intrigues me most are the possible motives. Why Daena? She’s relatively new, correct?”

“Not much over six score-days,” Janai answered. “Prodigals are favored but there is no engendered nobility, no line of succession. I doubt there’s any political motivation, at least from here in Malan anyway.”

“Perhaps because she’s close to Bannor?” Wren said glancing at him. “He’s about to become Prince Conjugal.”

The blonde savant’s mention of his name made a sharp prick of unease go through him. Could it really have been some elaborate contrivance to get at him? Then there was the strange happening with Sarai’s uncle—the one who hated humans. Perhaps the marriage plans had upset the nobility more than anyone imagined.

Sarai stepped over and rubbed his arm. “I’m sure Bannor’s lack of family ties and the absence of information regarding his past have probably made a few houses desperate for some kind of leverage,” She reached up and touched his face, glowing violet eyes finding his. “But to go this far?”

“It is all speculation,” Ryelle said. “I for one would prefer to entertain more productive discourse. Mother will inform us of her findings in due time, and we can pursue matters when there is sufficient information,” she looked around with stern amber eyes. “And officially sanctioned leave to investigate.”

Senalloy folded her arms. “I am curious, Istar’Arminwen, what would be a productive discourse?”

Ryelle raised an eyebrow. “Why afternoon repast of course. We have been standing around staring at a piece of glass for bells.”

“I can’t find fault with that,” Euriel said. “All that magic has made me hungry.”

The two Draconians who had been silent throughout the proceeding made rumbling sounds deep in their throats, fang-toothed grins spreading across their shiny green faces.

Sarai nodded and called to the servants to begin fetching a meal for everyone.

Bannor turned his attention from Tymoril and Kegari to the sitting circle where he noticed the Kriar lady Dulcere had sat down. The gold-skinned woman had the fingers of both hands pressed together, her tight expression with its furrowed brow and narrowed eyes reflected great discomfort.

He squeezed Sarai’s shoulder and stepped toward the ancient creature. “What troubles you now, Lady Dulcere?”

The Kriar looked up obviously surprised to be caught in whatever emotion she was experiencing. <I—> She pressed her lips together. <The magic.>

He turned his head. “The magic?”

She nodded. <Magic and I have an unpleasant history. I have felt its sting far more often than its salve. My mother is fascinated with this new science. Even though my friends are quite intimate with it,> She turned her head toward Senalloy and Corim. <For personal reasons, I do not accept it.>

Bannor rubbed the back of his neck, not really understanding. “It can’t be you don’t believe in magic. I mean it’s happening all around you.” He glanced up to the hovering Ziedra.

The Kriar frowned. <No. I mean—> Her breath seemed to catch. <Is it better?>

Now, Bannor was totally confused. “Better than what?”

Dulcere pulled an elongated black box off her belt and held it up. <Than artifices.> She put the strange object back on her belt and turned her attention to the mirror. <I saw those three take a piece of glass and turn into a powerful tool.> She shook her head. <Yesterday and today, I have seen some amazing feats performed. It forces me to appreciate the allure this art has for my mother.>

Bannor raised an eyebrow. “But not you?”

The gold woman pursed her lips and shook her head. <I find it frightening.>

Behind him, Bannor heard Senalloy chuckle. “You mean you’ve come to respect it?”

Dulcere frowned. <Perhaps a better choice of words.>

“Indeed,” Senalloy responded. “If the Kriar of Karanganoi Homeworld had respected magic more, they wouldn’t have fallen to the Baronians. If the Baronians had respected Kriar determination and ingenuity more they wouldn’t still be fighting with them five millennia later.”

“Well,” Ziedra said hovering over them. “As someone who is magic, I can say that there is no clear better between the two. Magic is stronger on the individual level, but artifices can work on such vast scopes…” She shook her head. “What we saw at the way-point was…impressive.”

“This way-point,” Sarai chimed in. “Bannor alluded to your trip there but was a bit vague about the details.”

“I too am curious,” Ryelle added. “This place my sister and her ward disappeared to yesterday.”

“Do you want to see?” Ziedra asked. “I can show you.”

“Indeed,” Euriel added. “I would like that. My daughter has spared precious little in the way of details concerning her little excursion.”

Ziedra turned in the air and glanced at Wren. The blonde savant shrugged. The dark-haired savant settled to the floor, moved to one of the couches in the sitting circle and seemed to compose herself. She closed her eyes. “I think the place where we entered was perhaps the most impressive.” She reached to a long silver chain around her neck and pulled out a ring festooned with black jewels and slid it onto her finger. She bowed her head and brought the jeweled object to her temple. “Don’t be startled, the image will be large and directly in the center of the circle.”

Bannor wasn’t quite certain what to expect, but he did see threads of reality begin to spin and dip around Ziedra. At the same time, threads began to whirl around a spot about a pace off the floor in the center of the conference circle. It started as a sparking black dot then rapidly grew into a translucent sphere more than two paces across. Though warned, it still made him lurch back a step. The contents of the sphere were foggy for a few moments then resolved into clarity. At the same time he heard a strange hum and detected the faintly metallic smell that he remembered from the way-point. He noticed that he along with the others were pictured standing in the same place on the platform. The view was not from Ziedra’s eyes but from a point somewhere above. Somehow, this was not a memory… but something else…

“Oooh,” Sarai made a sound next to him, as the view resolved into crystal clarity revealing the giant chasm that had greeted them upon their arrival at the way-point.

“This is the first thing we saw at the way-point,” Ziedra narrated. “My husband tells me he has seen far grander vistas on Kriar Homeworld. Not having been there I found this to be enough of a shock.”

“It’s gigantic,” Euriel breathed.

“It seems big from above. From the bottom, it looks even bigger,” Wren remarked.

“What are those constructs?” Vanidaar asked. “They are not buildings.”

“Void-ships,” Senalloy informed with a nod.

“The entire citadel is barely the size of one of those things,” Ryelle gasped. “Truly, a thing so large can be made to move?”

“Not only move, but carry people between stars,” Corim said. “I never imagined such things could exist until I picked up a Shaladen.”

As they spoke, Bannor heard his own words and that of the others repeated in the same faint echoes off metal walls. Ziedra’s vision was like peering back in time to witness and sense things exactly as they happened.

Those that had not gone on the trip to the way-point watched with rapt fascination as Ziedra’s globe played out the investigation moment to moment as it happened; every word said, every motion and tick. For some strange reason, he found watching himself fascinating. Remembering his thoughts, what he had seen through the Garmtur at those moments. Events played out, periods of long examination without anything new to add, Ziedra skipped over, reopening the view slightly later in their adventure. Eyes widened and the viewers flinched as the squabble with Quasar was shown.

Then the part that Bannor was hoping she wouldn’t show. The capture of the Baronian spies. As the vicious encounter with the Baronians increased in pitch and fury, Bannor felt Sarai’s fingernails pressing into his flesh. “My One,” she hissed in his ear. “You never mentioned…”

Bannor turned and kissed her. Sarai returned the kiss with narrowed glowing eyes that seemed ready to shoot sparks.

“I’m okay. See?” He waved his fingers.

She poked him in the stomach. “It’s not funny.” She growled in low whisper. “You’re a father now—and soon to be my husband—behave.”

He put a hand to his chest and gave her his best “wounded” and “bewildered” expression. “It was a normal investigation… that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She gritted her teeth. “It wasn’t normal. That place wasn’t normal. Nothing you do is ever normal.”

“It’s not my fault,” he demurred.

“Right,” she snorted. “Neither was a god exploding on that battlefield, or the dragons falling in love, or any of the other things that just accidentally happen to you.”

He rubbed the back of his head, not really having an answer to that. His whole life since that fateful day in Blackwater had been one calamity after the next, most of them unexplained or unintentional twists of fate and magic.

Bannor noticed that Sarai wasn’t the only person agitated by the fierce battle. Wren’s parents were frowning at the blonde savant who could only shrug in response.

“Hey,” Ziedra said. “Don’t blame them. We’re all savants. Crazy stuff happens around us. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we do—if you wait long enough something bizarre will happen whether you want it to or not.”

“It seems to get worse when you’re all together,” Euriel said, voice crackling with a hint of irritation. She glanced over at Ziedra. “I thought I could trust you to keep Wren out of trouble.”

Ziedra’s mouth dropped open and her hands dropped to her side. “Aie. Wren has been hiding from me. It was the first I’d seen her in moons.”

The blonde immortal folded her arms. “Is that supposed to pass for some kind of excuse?”

“Excuse? I’m not Wren’s keeper. You know that.”

Euriel raised an eyebrow.

A pained expression clouded the face of Ziedra’s husband Radian, he leaned away with a wince.

Ziedra’s face flushed scarlet and so did Wren’s.

Ever the diplomat, Ryelle dipped in pushing an errant tuft of pale hair off her forehead. “Euriel, I am certain this was really an unintended happenstance. Unlike the others, I do not think Lady Dulcere is prone to the kind of accidents our kin are. She no doubt made assurances that it was safe.”

Euriel glanced at Dulcere. The Kriar looked pained as well. <Our security staff assured me…> She somehow managed to mumble the telepathic message.

“What about this Quasar woman?” Vanidaar asked. “Will she be a problem?”

“If she can be,” Bannor said. “She has a great deal of emotional investment tied up in this.”

Sarai frowned at him. “And how do you know that?”

Daena laughed. “Same way he does everything else. He just looked at her with that weird nola of his and knew.”

“It’s not weird,” he responded. “The Baronians and this Genemar they are after will be a concern for everyone sooner—” He noticed the direct stare Sarai was focusing on him. “Or later.”

“Much later if I have anything to say about it,” she growled. “We have had enough trouble for ten lifetimes—elven lifetimes. I can’t believe you’d want to get mixed up in something else!”

“I don’t want to be mixed up,” he responded. “I just am.” He paused and rubbed the back of his head. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Worked perfectly for me,” Wren laughed.

<Your mate was simply assisting the Protectorate and the Kriar,> Dulcere offered, standing up. <He very capably investigated and ascertained information critical to the investigation.>

Sarai glanced at Dulcere and stared at Bannor.

He frowned. “Star, it’s not like I’m helpless—tracking is something I’ve always been good at.”

“Well, we’ve already had enough excitement. If you hadn’t noticed we have things happening here.”

“What if they’re related?”

“These Baronians?” Sarai scoffed. “Related to what?”

He drew a breath. He turned his gaze to Janai and then Daena. “To what happened with Kell, to this genemar which I was told is ‘creation run amok’.”

Sarai put hands on hips. “You lost me, Bannor. How do those things tie together?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I have a strong feeling that this genemar thing the Baronians are after has something to do with savants.”

“What?” Wren chimed in. “When did you come up with that?”

“Well,” he dipped his head. “It’s a kind of instinct—a feeling—it’s just the words—creation, annihilation, perpetuity—you know me, I’m not jumpy. This thing—this sense of something terrible ready to happen just makes me queasy. The vision that accompanies them—it’s not like something that just affects our family—it’s like—” He paused, knowing he was rambling in fragments. “It’s like the whole cosmos will be affected.” He shook his head. “The last time I sensed it, it damn near turned me inside out.”

“You’re scaring me,” Wren said. “Is this the same thing you were talking about before, the thing about life forces?”

He nodded.

“Say this really is a threat, Bannor?” Sarai demanded. “What do you want to do? Do you want to turn our lives upside down again? You have an obligation here. I’d be a fool to deny your instincts are potent, but you can’t drop everything to pursue this ‘feeling’ without something a bit more substantial.”

Bannor captured her hands in his. “I don’t want anything to interfere with our lives—not again. I have to be realistic though, we can’t live our lives if we have no world to live on.”

“You’re being melodramatic.”

He shook his head. “This thing the Baronians and others are after is big. I think it is the power of creation itself—the power that made eternity.”

“Bannor, Gaea made Eternity,” Wren said.

“No,” Corim corrected. “Gaea made the living things that reside in Eternity. That’s a very different thing.”

Wren frowned at the warrior.

“Your own words, Bannor,” Euriel said. “Creation, annihilation, perpetuity—a riddle?”

“A cycle,” Vanidaar said. “Alpha and omega, what’s between is perpetuity.”

“What made the cosmos?” Bannor asked.

They looked at him with incredulous expressions. “It wasn’t made—it just is… or always has been.”

“What if something made it?”

“Don’t you mean someone?”

<Perhaps if I may interject,> Dulcere thought to them all, leaning forward. <Universes are a cyclic phenomena. They are born and after hundreds of billions of cycles, they die. They are the next aggregation after stars, galaxies, super-clusters, and mega-clusters. I believe I mentioned that the Kriar have researched pocket universes… creation… on a small scale. Rakaar told me himself that the Genemar was creation run amok. Something so frightful it scared even him. There are races even further advanced than the Kriar who may have created an artifice of ultimate entropy.>

“Why would anyone be silly enough to create such a thing?” Daena asked. “It’s crazy.”

“So is remaking Eternity,” Wren remarked. “That’s what the first ones were trying to do.”

“Doomsday,” a deep female voice said from the back of the room.

Bannor turned toward the sound. Giant Irodee was leaned forward on the couch. Her daughter Marta was asleep with her head in the woman’s lap. The huge Myrmigyne had been so quiet during the proceedings that Bannor had almost forgotten she was still with them. One thing he had learned about the big woman, she was extremely smart in addition to being well educated.

“Doomsday,” Irodee repeated looking down and stroking her daughter’s hair. “Many of the elder races built engines of destruction as deterrents to prevent the aggression of competing cultures. The Numinorians were wiped out by their attempts to control entropy.”

“All right, so even if there is a threat, how is it our problem?” Sarai wanted to know. “Isn’t that what the Eternals and the Protectorate are for—it’s their job—let them do it!”

“Koass asked me to help.”

Sarai stared at him, fists on hips.

“He’s telling the truth,” Wren said. “Koass specifically asked Bannor to assist.”

“I was there,” Janai added. “He did ask.”

Sarai rubbed her forehead. “Pantheon lords are children to them and they need you? Why?”

Bannor shrugged.

“I think it’s because of his ability to bring savants together,” Janai said with a shrug. “You saw what the four of them did to that Baronian coven.”

Sarai folded her arms. “Well, Koass got help, they got their lead. As far as I’m concerned, Bannor has already done enough. Certain processes don’t hold themselves up simply because there’s some emergency, imaginary or otherwise. We, he and I, have an obligation to ourselves, my parents, and this kingdom. Anything that interferes with that had better be tearing down walls, understand?” She looked around. “The wedding is less than two moons away. The universe will have to hold off blowing up until after then.”

“Sarai,” Janai said. “You know that’s not the way life works.”

“It does now,” Sarai growled. “Eternity got by for a million millennia without Bannor, it can survive a couple of score-days more until after we are sworn. I—we—owe that to our parents.”

There was a clack of hard boots on foyer steps. “Pleasant are those words to hear,” a penetrating female voice said. “And spoken with such authentic conviction.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. “Mother?” She turned.

The Queen stood at the top of the steps dressed in the same gold robes as she had been earlier in the morning, long black rod resting over her shoulder. Kalindinai’s normally tightly coiffed dark hair lay loose and spread across her shoulders. The elf lady’s amber eyes which normally glowed brightly appeared dim, she was obviously tired. The Queen strolled down the steps, glancing around. When she reached the bottom step, she looked back to entrance and nodded.

The guards standing there stepped back and Laramis came through. The Justicar wore a frown on his chiseled features. Silently, he moved to a position at the head of the stairs behind Kalindinai. Bannor saw the man’s gaze track immediately to his wife and child, a smile flickering across his lips for them.

“It has been an interesting day,” Kalindinai said in a voice that wasn’t quite her official tone, but too sharp to be considered familiar or friendly. She moved forward toward the group with slow deliberate steps, hard heels clicking on the floor. “It started with an unpleasantness that became an investigation.” The Queen slid the rod off her shoulder and put it behind her back gripped by both hands. Her gaze tracked to Ryelle, then to Janai and Sarai. She turned and focused on Euriel and Vanidaar. After a moment, she turned her focus on Senalloy. “An investigation that, We are sorry to say, spared few feelings.” She drew a breath and stepped down into the conference circle. She looked at the mirror on its magically created stand and ran a hand along its wooden frame with a raised eyebrow. Her gaze panned over the gathered faces. “As you have probably guessed, the investigation has been completed. We have who we think is the perpetrator in custody.” She looked around. “We see that comes as no surprise to anyone here.”

“It’s great news, Mother,” Sarai said.

Kalindinai nodded. “Indeed.” She pushed out her lower lip. Fist at the small of her back, she tapped the long black rod on her shoulder. “Still, there are many discrepancies—unanswered questions—and some annoying mysteries.” She turned abruptly to Sarai. Bannor’s fiancé flinched, blinking her violet eyes in a sincere appearing show of innocence. “We would hate to think that Our own daughter would be so foolish as to interfere with an investigation when confidence among the noble houses is so shaky.” She pivoted so her gaze bracketed Janai and Ryelle. The two princesses straightened. “We would be even more disappointed to discover elder princesses might countenance, or worse, facilitate such an unwise activity.” She turned back to the mirror, making a show of studying it, her hand trailing across the frame again. Head bowed as though in thought she walked a circle around the mirror, continuing to speak. “We suppose it is fortunate that We discovered no evidence of tampering in the investigation or it would have made Us very cross.” She paused, head coming up and focusing on Euriel for a moment. She nodded and let out a breath. “Fortunate.” She shook her head. “Still, there were some troubling occurrences.” She swung around to face Wren who lurched back a step. “Skillfully foiled wards.” Her attention shifted to Daena. “Unexplained rumblings. And—” Kalindinai took a step and Bannor found himself eye-to-eye with the Queen. “The most peculiar inspiration We have ever experienced. Surprised enough were We to get word from Our daughter that our supposedly cloistered guests had discovered suspicious activity within Kul’Amaron nearly a thousand paces from their place of keeping. However, even as We rushed to follow this break We experienced a rather strange sensation and awareness. A third eye that came upon us in so timely a manner—so intense and specific. Why it was almost as if We were lead to the culprit, who by some strange coincidence was already disabled. Is that not fascinating, Bannor?”

“Yes, Matradomma,” he responded.

“Good, We are glad you are as intrigued as Ourselves. You see, this was no common assassin. This was a Silissian Morgeer, a specially bred doppelgänger that can only be acquired at extreme expense. She, and We use the term lightly, was well armed with powerful magicks proof against scrying and magical detection. It would take the power of oh—” She glanced to Euriel and then to Senalloy. “An elder mage to pierce such a veil of concealment.” She returned her gaze to Bannor. “Quite a stroke of incredible luck, would you not say?”

“Carellion smiled on you to be sure, Matradomma,” Bannor responded.

“Yes, We were blessed indeed because if it was not just a wild stroke of luck, We would have to thank someone for their assistance. Of course, we all know that interfering would have been bad. We would have to laud their ingenuity and skill whilst smacking them upside the head for what could only be deemed as unsanctioned espionage and trespass. That would put Us in an untenable and uncomfortable position, wouldn’t you agree—Bannor?”

“Yes, Matradomma.”

“We sincerely hope,” the Queen continued. “That there will be no further revelations that complicate this matter.”

“Matradomma, I have a strong suspicion there won’t be,” he responded.

“Good,” she responded with a nod. “We know you have an extraordinary intuition. So that sets Our mind at ease.” She let out a breath. “We are not quite ready to call the matter done, but We would welcome a rest. We see your maids setting the table as though for early sup, pray might We join you?”

“Of course, Mother,” Sarai said. “Will Father be joining us?”

“Shortly,” she said. “He is organizing security around the prisoner. We decided her importance was sufficient that she is being held in one of the ghost vaults to ensure no outside accidents or tampering occur.”

Sarai called out to the maids and two more places at the thirty-person table were set.

After a few long moments it appeared that Daena had finally screwed up her courage to speak. “Matradomma, any clue as to what this Morgeer was after?”

The Queen stared at Daena a moment, probably digesting this latest alteration in the girl’s appearance. The auburn-hair and glowing green eyes were always the giveaway. Kalindinai pushed out her lower lip. “Actually, We plan a long discussion with yourself and Our daughter on that precise topic. That can wait until tomorrow, there has already been far too much investigating today.”

Daena’s brow furrowed, expression tightening in a look of concern. “Oh.” She responded in a tiny voice.

The Queen turned to her daughters. “So, what was Sarai on about as I was coming in? What has my son-to-be done now?”

He frowned at Kalindinai and sighed. It would always be his fault.

“Brother Bannor has simply been off adventuring,” Ryelle informed the Queen. “Winning friends,” she gestured to Senalloy, Corim, and Dulcere. “But no closer to finishing the learning set before him.”

Kalindinai’s brow furrowed and she folded her arms. “Bannor, did I not ask you to do me this favor? I could have made it an order.”

Bannor winced. “I am trying Matradomma, these are not easy things for me…”

Over the Queen’s shoulder he saw Corim whispering something in Dulcere’s ear. The ancient Kriar was nodding in response.

Seeing him put on the spot, apparently Sarai took some pity on him because she broke in. “There is one other thing, Mother,” she held up her hand. “While he was out, Bannor got me a ring.”

The Queen who was about to start on him, diverted to examine the ring that Sarai was keeping on a chain around her neck. Kalindinai was both a woman and an elf, and a she had no lack of love for things that sparkled.

Kalindinai smiled, turning the jeweled circle so the colors flashed in the light. “Oooh.” She glanced at Bannor with a raised eyebrow. “You picked this out?”

He cleared his throat. “With help.”

The Queen nodded. “We approve. Most excellent. Now, about the ceremony—”

<Matradomma,> Dulcere broke in, stepping forward.

The Queen frowned at the Kriar. “Yes, Arwen Dulcere?”

<Concerning this ceremony, might I have a moment of your time in private?>

Kalindinai leaned her head to one side. “Now?”

<Yes, if it please you. I believe it’s important—it may clear some matters up.>

“All right, leave us to it then,” she turned a frown on Bannor that said she would come back to finish what she started. “Ryelle will accompany us though.”

Dulcere bowed her head in acquiescence.

The elder sister lead the way and the three of them headed off into the back hall.

Bannor felt a cold chill and looked toward Corim. “What was that about?”

Corim held up his hand. “I think it will work out, Friend.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What will work out?”

Corim made staying gestures with his hands. “Let’s just see.”

Sarai put fists on hips, and looked in the direction that her mother had gone.

“Don’t pay it any mind,” Janai said, pulling on her sister’s arm. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Yes…” Sarai’s voice trailed off. She raised her voice. “Everyone, we may as well retire to our repast. The stewards have finished at the table.”

Bannor followed Sarai to the table but couldn’t help but glance down the hall where the Queen and Dulcere had disappeared. The Kriar woman had headed off the Queen in her chastising him for his poor progress in learning the wedding ceremony essentials. He glanced at the big man, Corim, who was near the other end of the table now leaned close and speaking with Senalloy. The tall silver-haired Baronian was nodding. He felt a chill. What was Dulcere telling the Queen?

Sarai’s hand on his shoulder startled him. “My One?”

He looked down at Sarai who was already seated at the right of the head of the table. “What?”

She rolled her violet eyes and pulled down on his shoulder. “Sit.”

“Oh.” He sat.

“What are you afraid she’ll say that has you so preoccupied? She knows almost nothing about you.”

Bannor blinked meeting her gaze. He let out a breath slowly. “Uh, I—I’m not sure.”

What was Dulcere thinking? It had been so abrupt. He hoped she didn’t make things worse. He looked down the table to Corim. Though he never saw them converse, the big man seemed to immediately recognize what Dulcere had in mind. He shook his head, he would probably know what they were up to soon enough.

He took the white cloth on his plate and folded it how Sarai had showed him and placed it across his knees. He noticed Sarai watching him as she always did now. He noted her satisfied smile. At least he could do some things right…

“What do you think of Dawnelle Ralani?” Sarai asked next to him, reaching out to rub his hand.

“Pardon?”

“As a name for our daughter, Silly.” She put a hand across her abdomen and smiled at him.

“Oh,” he rubbed the back of his head. Where had that come from? First she was scolding him—now, baby names? He was clueless. “It sounds nice,” he tried.

“But do you like it?”

He winced. He hated when she asked his opinion on such things. He’d rather wrestle with an ogre. A steward came by his place and poured wine in his goblet. By way of delay, Bannor took the container between in his fingers and nodded thanks over it. He took a careful sip of fiery tasting sweet wine and placed the cup with a practiced flourish. While he didn’t appreciate all the fancy dinner table etiquette, eating was a topic interesting enough to practice at… He sighed. Name. Response. She’s waiting. Be careful, but truthful. “Star, Dawnelle… it’s pretty… but is it strong enough?”

Sarai turned her head, looking up at him through her lashes. “Strong enough? What do you mean?”

“You are going to be her mother, and Kalindinai and Jhaann will be her grand parents, she’ll have a family of warriors and mages for relatives and friends. She needs a strong name.”

Sarai turned her head to the other side and raised and eyebrow. “Like?”

Damn. He knew she would do that. He took another sip of wine. Suddenly, he realized Janai and Daena, who were sitting across the table from them were also looking at him. “Well… I’m a little partial to… Vhina Drielle. Her friends would probably call her ‘Vee’ or ‘Vye’.”

Sarai pursed her lips in thought. “I like Drielle, my great grandmother is named Drielle.”

Janai raised her goblet. “I like it.”

“So do I,” Daena chimed in.

“But Vhina?” Sarai repeated. “It sounds so…”

“Human?” he tried. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Because she’ll be an elf—a noble elf.”

He frowned at her. “Your father would be proud.”

Sarai’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think he’s implying you sound like Father,” Janai put in. “Which with that statement, you do.”

She snorted and started to reply when Kalindinai and Ryelle came out of the back hall trailed by Dulcere. The Kriar strolled along in their wake, hands behind her back a contemplative almost mischievous expression on her face. The sight sent a chill of dread down his spine. What had that black-eyed other-worlder told them?

The Queen settled herself at the head of the table with Ryelle at her right. Dulcere found a place next to Corim and leaned close to listen to something he asked. Bannor looked back to find the Queen studying him, chin resting on her laced fingers.

“Sarai?” Kalindinai said after a moment. The tone the Queen used was wispy and thoughtful. What had the Kriar woman said?

Sarai’s brow furrowed, obviously the change in tone perplexed her as well. “Yes, Mother?”

“Lady Dulcere has brought some troubling things to my attention.”

Sarai frowned. “Troubling?”

The Queen glanced at Ryelle who pursed her lips. “Yes, at the moment those particulars need not be discussed. The issue however is Bannor’s readiness for the ceremony soon upon us.”

“Yes, Mother, he and I have an agreement—”

Kalindinai held up a hand to forestall her. “Lady Dulcere made a proposal to me that I would like you to hear.”

Sarai narrowed her eyes. “Concerning what?”

“Dulcere promised that in return for Bannor’s assistance in their matter which is not to interfere with his officiating duties for the kingdom, that she and Corim would guarantee he learns everything he needs for the ceremony, including learning to speak and write in High Elvish.”

Bannor felt a chill. “What?” He looked down to Dulcere to Corim, the two were looking back at him.

“Mother,” Sarai started. “We don’t know them, how can we…?”

“Lady Dulcere demonstrated some very convincing credentials. Master Vale holds high rank as a Matayan Lore speaker so I am fairly confident they could accomplish the task. Provided Bannor cooperated of course. We both know his efforts of late have been reticent at best.”

Bannor gritted his teeth. He felt the stab of Sarai’s stare before she turned her attention back to her mother.

“Sar,” Ryelle said leaning forward. “I think you and Bannor should accept. Everybody will get what they want. You know he won’t focus as long as he thinks these creatures and this Genemar thing are a threat. If he can do his investigations and learn what he needs to perform the nuptials, then we’ll all be happier.”

Sarai glanced to her mother and then up at Bannor. She put a hand on his arm. “Were you expecting this?”

“Uhhh, no.” This was so strange, but it did at least make sense. Dulcere and Corim wanted his help for their investigation. However, as long as the needs of the royal wedding and his lack of training absorbed his time he would be of little help.

“Before we agree to this, what proof—”

Kalindinai waved her off. “To demonstrate their ability to teach Bannor, Dulcere has promised that if we give her Bannor tomorrow morning. He will play the pipes ceremony to our satisfaction tomorrow night.”

“Learn the whole ceremony—in a single morning?” Sarai scoffed.

“Really?” he brightened. He hated practicing those silly pipes, but if he could get all the pain over with in a morning… That didn’t sound bad. Maybe Dulcere did have a magical teaching pill!

Ryelle held up her hands, “What have we got to lose?”

Sarai stared down the table at Dulcere. “Is this some kind of magic that might hurt, Bannor?”

The Kriar shook her head. <It is not magic, but it is absolutely safe.> She smiled. <It is Bannor’s worst subject, is it not?>

“Yesss,” Sarai drew the word out with a momentary glare at him.

He flinched.

<Even if you choose not to accept our assistance, at least you will have that out of the way.>

“All right, say we’re satisfied tomorrow. What kind of help are you expecting from Bannor? That situation with those Baronians was extremely dangerous…”

“Arminwen, we want Bannor for his investigative capacity,” Corim put in. “Not his fighting. We have warriors to do that task. We need unique insights like those he provided. We can’t promise it will be totally without risk, but the rest of our inquiries will be accompanied by some formidable agents—in some cases with the Eternals themselves.”

Sarai looked at him. “I already know you like this idea.”

He nodded.

She frowned. “If he doesn’t do the pipes tomorrow perfectly—no deal.” She poked him in the shoulder, and fixed a hard violet stare on him. “Perfectly.”

<Agreed,> Dulcere thought to them. <By tomorrow at 7 bells.>

Perfect pipe playing in a day.

Tomorrow promised to be interesting. Too bad the specter of the Baronians and Genemar overshadowed it all. What about Kell and Daena’s transformation, did that tie in somehow? Then the shape-changing assassin—something told him they were all related in some bizarre fashion. He’d never figure it out unless he was freed up from all those classes, and that’s the opportunity Dulcere and Corim were offering. He might as well run with it and hoped it worked out. Like Ryelle said, what did he have to lose?

He kissed Sarai on the cheek. “For you, Darling, perfectly.”

Chapter Seventeen
Unlikely Teachers

« ^ »

Because of my size and build, when people first meet me they assume I am a half-wit, the rest figure me for an ale-guzzling warrior with a thirst for blood, women, and spirits (not necessarily in that order). I did, or do, fight for a living—for no other reason than I had a talent for it. However, academics, exploration, and teaching are my true passions. Being a skilled warrior helps more in those endeavors than one would imagine…
—Corim Eric Vale,
Honorary Beta Class Protectorate Enforcer

Shortly after the Queen’s determination to let Dulcere and Corim teach him, King Jhaan T’Evagduran made his appearance. The high lord looked tired, his broad shoulders rounded down, his normally fluid steps slow and heavy. He dismissed his retinue of guards with a swing of his arm, slid the mantle of state off his burly shoulders and folded it in single motion and handed it to a waiting steward. Striding to the head of the table, he made down gestures when everyone stood to honor his entrance. Unclasping his long steel-colored hair, he tossed it back and thumped down in the chair next to his wife Kalindinai. The Queen rubbed his back with an empathetic expression.

The King made no mention of the events which had lead up to their gathering. He blessed the meal, greeting old friends and welcoming new allies and friends. He requested informal introductions and made light pleasant conversation, obviously more interested in relaxing and spending time with his wife and children than pursuing any agendas.

It was a side of King T’Evagduran that Bannor rarely saw, but he welcomed the sight. It gave him hope that he could somehow fit in with this house of royal elves. After a number of trials, he had won the support of the Queen, and while she was often stern with him it was always tempered with a shred of affection. The King was a different matter. As warriors, they had faced death together, and shared a mutual respect as soldiers—that helped, but did not define their relationship. Sarai was his youngest daughter, and Bannor a low-born human. The matter was further confused by Sarai’s pregnancy. The T’Evagdurans badly wanted an heir. It was the source that soured their rejoicing.

All during the early dinner, and into the evening Bannor’s mind was awash with recent events and pondering their meanings. The Baronians and the mysterious Genemar, he had a chilling sense of impending doom that he just couldn’t shake. Voldrax—the Baronian officer—their paths would cross again, and it would be anything but pleasant. Dealing with that army made the fight with Odin’s jury seem tiny in comparison. They had captured two of his warriors, but Bannor suspected that the captives would provide little real intelligence. Were the strange visions he’d been having and those powerful words somehow related to this weapon the Genemar? To further confuse matters, Kell’s attack on Daena… what had that been about? The incredibly powerful entity had unlocked all of the young savant’s abilities as a first one, saying that it was necessary—because she had failed. To do what? Closer to home, there was the shape changing assassin, Janai and Daena’s machinations in Coormeer, and the strange business with Sarai’s uncle. Right at his heart was the upcoming wedding and his growing concern for their unborn daughter. Still many tendays from being born and the baby possessed more magic than many adult mages Bannor had met. What challenges awaited them raising such a child?

All the nagging questions and almost no answers made him want to curl up in a corner and hide from the world. That wasn’t an option though, too many people, especially Sarai, were counting on him. It seemed a miracle that he’d come this far, but the universe kept throwing bigger and bigger obstacles in his path. How much blood would this next mountain get out of him before he finished scaling it?

Sarai shaking his shoulder startled him alert. “…Bannor?”

Drawing a breath, he rubbing his tired eyes, he looked up at her. “Yes?” Sarai was dressed in her purple bed-silks, hair let down and most of the skin powders cleaned from her face. He blinked and looked around their quarters. He didn’t even remember coming in here. Things were really getting to him.

She leaned down and put her arms around his neck. “Have you heard a word I said?”

He shook his head. He rubbed her sleek creamy-smooth arm. One thing about the pregnancy it certainly agreed with Sarai. She was tired at times, but in between she was glowing and strong. Early on when they were in Gladshiem, being with child had made her weak to the point of fainting. That was how they discovered her conception. Now, if anything, she drew strength from her condition. Her occasional moodiness and infrequent bouts of unsettled stomach were normal, or so the Queen had informed him.

Sarai rubbed his cheek. “I guess I can understand you being tired and preoccupied. Quite a strange day.” She rubbed his shoulder. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

He responded with a weary nod and began stripping out of his clothes. Sarai went to her dressing table and settled in to clean her face and brush her hair out before sleeping.

“My One.”

“Mmmm?”

“What did that Dulcere woman tell mother about you?”

With his shirt half way up and shrouding his head, the best he could muster was, “Huh?”

“Mother said that Lady Dulcere had brought some troubling things to her attention,” Sarai repeated. “What did she mean?”

Shirt still in his hands he peered at Sarai’s face reflected in the mirror, her brow was furrowed. Obviously she was concerned it was something serious. He folded the shirt and put it aside. He would have thought Kalindinai would have told Sarai, or that Ryelle or Janai would have let it slip. That surprised him. They respected his feelings more than he thought.

“It’s nothing serious to worry about,” he offered, rubbing his chest. The scar from Odin’s spear still hurt and the flesh often itched when exposed to the air.

“So, what is it? What do they know that I don’t?”

He sighed. He went to the bed, sat down and worked at the leather straps on his breeches. “You really want to know?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, a flash of glowing violet eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

He finished pulling off his breeches, folded them and placed them with his shirt on the dressing bench. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “They’re just flabbergasted that I don’t know how to read.”

Sarai turned on the hassock and stared at him. “What?”

“I never learned to read,” he repeated.

“How is that possible? I’ve seen you read.”

“Well, I know a few words, just not very many.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You told me what certain documents were about.”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “I thought my savant power was just something that happened after Blackwater, but I think I’ve had it since I was Daena’s age. I just didn’t realize I was doing it. I was always good at puzzling things out, seeing patterns—writing is a pattern. I could get the gist of things. When I was a ranger, I got good at getting other people to read things for me without letting on I didn’t know how…” He let out a breath. “It makes me feel stupid is what it does. It just reminds me…”

Sarai rose, came over, sat in his lap and put her arms around him. “Bannor,” she said, glowing eyes meeting his. “You are not stupid. You were smart enough that I didn’t catch on—my One, no wonder this ceremony and some of your duties have been so hard. I’ve been having scribes translate the elvish into common only to find out now—it wasn’t helping.” She sighed. “Of all the things not to tell me.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d be more upset except there have been a lot more pressing things in our lives—slavers, demons, goddesses, trials… babies.” She put her head on his shoulder. “Compared to everything else we’ve overcome this will be easy.”

He put his arms around her and pulled tight, fitting the warmth of her body to his. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“Just hush and hold me,” she told him.

So he did.

Bannor had an uneventful night’s sleep waking early as he usually did. Rolling out of bed, he stood in the dim room and stared down at the still body of his wife-to-be tangled up in the bed sheets, silvery hair spilling across the pillows, chest slowly rising and falling with the breath of deep repose. Damn, she was beautiful. After everything they had been through, it still made a hitch in his chest to see her.

Dressed in his togs, hair still slicked back from washing his face, he stepped out onto the balcony and looked out into the still shadowy landscape. The barest thread of light was shading the colors on the horizon.

He wondered if Wren would be training like yesterday. Perhaps, the others were right. He needed to start taking learning more seriously—even learning to fight. He had learned a lot over the tendays since the incident at Blackwater, but it was the desperation of necessity, it was get smart or die. His savant talent had made up for his lack of discipline. Even to the point that trained warriors like Wren and Corim marveled at his skill. Even powerful Senalloy had been impressed. It never felt like he was doing anything special. Of course, that seemed always the trick. His Nola could operate in such subtle ways that he wasn’t even aware of it.

He continued to think about it as he slipped on his boots in the entry. He started to go out the door and glanced back to the rack where the belt for his axes hung. He frowned. A feeling of disquiet sent a shiver through his bones. He did a slow turn and looked into the darkened conference area and the giant banquette chamber beyond. Everything was in deep shadow except for the flickering of a few candles left to assist navigation in the quarters at night. He let his vision slip down into his thread senses.

Nothing.

He was getting jumpy. Bannor pulled the belt off the rack and cinched it around his waist. He turned to the cabinet and pulled out his mithril-headed warden’s axes and slipped them into the holsters. Jumpy or not, it made him feel more secure. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He nodded to the night guards who stood sentry in the hall. Eyes glowing in the gloom, the two tall Elves dressed in burnished mail nodded back.

It didn’t take long to get to the courtyard where Wren had been training the day previous. After yesterday’s events, he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t come back. Still, he was curious to see if she did.

He paused at the yard gate, noticing that torches were burning and had been for some time. Wren was indeed there, but she was not alone. Burly Corim Vale was there as well. The thick bodied man spoke in quiet voice, calling cadence as he stepped through weapon techniques, swinging his sword through sinuous motions and maneuvered in time. Wren’s movements mirrored Corim’s, duplicating each move a moment after it had been demonstrated. The blonde savant obviously had a great deal of practice in such training because she picked up the nuances so quickly.

Corim stopped. At his nod, Wren put aside her weapon and took an open-handed stance. The burly man put aside his weapon and mirrored her. Wren then executed a showy flourish of hands that finished with her fists knuckle-to-knuckle over her sternum and a deep bow. A salute.

The swordsman did the same gestures somewhat more slowly, finishing as she did. Wren then lunged into a shadow fight, hands and feet thrashing invisible opponents as she literally seemed to dance through the air. Bannor had only seen the blonde woman fight at full strength one time in the battle against Odin’s Bloodguard and it had been an impressive sight.

As complex as her techniques were, Corim stayed with her, struggling only where he didn’t have the flexibility so obviously a part of Wren’s extensive training. Wren slid to a stop, repeating the salute.

“A powerful and stylish art,” Corim remarked with a nod, wiping a few beads of sweat from his brow. “It is superior to Beia’s bare-knuckle arena training…” He paused, seeming to sense they were being observed and turned to peer into the shadows beyond the gate. “Friend Bannor, have you come to be a student as well?”

He opened the gate and stepped in. Wren watched him with hands on hips. “He was probably just planning on hiding and watching me.”

Bannor felt his face warm because in-part it was true.

Corim grinned. “It appears you’ve been found out. I admit Lady Wren is a marvel to behold.”

“Stop it,” Wren said, face coloring somewhat.

Bannor turned his head. Wren, blushing? He’d never seen that before. So, she admired Corim. He guessed the warrior must be an attractive man. The fellow seemed to have all manner of admirers. Lucky sod. Ten years of being a border warden, he never had a woman give him two glances. Then he met Sarai.

Still feeling a little chagrin, Bannor met Wren’s eyes, then swung his attention to Corim. “You know, it’s been pure luck and natural—” He choked on the word. “Talent. That’s kept me alive this long. I was thinking this morning—I—I need to learn… something.”

Wren raised an eyebrow and instead of her usual witty remark she simply smiled at him.

“Friend Bannor, don’t be afraid to acknowledge what you have as talent. You have, most enviously, a great deal of natural ability. All people come to a point where their natural skills must be supplemented by discipline and knowledge.” He nodded to Wren. “No doubt Lady Wren came upon this truth early in her life. For myself, my talents have always been rather meager, the only way for me to be competitive with people such as yourself was discipline and study.”

Bannor shuffled. Extremely uncomfortable with those two staring at him. He didn’t really know what to say. He had always done his best to escape book learning and any kind of formal schooling. What little education he had was scratched in the dirt at his father’s feet—an education that stopped barely a season into his teens.

“What’s biting you, Bannor?” Wren asked, leaning her head to one side.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just feel stupid is all.” He drew a breath. He frowned. “You know, Corim, that thing about the pipes caught me by surprise. You and Dulcere didn’t ask me.”

Corim folded his arms. “You could have objected.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. “That would have been pretty stupid, don’t you think?”

The burly warrior smiled and shrugged. “We had a common interest and goal. It was a logical means to that end.”

He frowned. “And you can really do it?”

“Do what?”

“Teach me to play those dumb pipes!”

Corim grinned. “Perfectly, I believe was your wife-to-be’s stipulation.” He rubbed his chest and glanced at Wren. “I must say, Bannor, you are blessed to have the love of such an exquisite lady—both fiery and intelligent.”

He forestalled the other man with a hand. “You can really do that?”

“I fail to understand why you think it would be such a reach,” Corim responded with a perplexed expression. “Was it my imagination or did I not see you, with the assistance of Lady Wren and your two acquaintances annihilate that Baronian coven? The same coven that no-doubt extinguished the lives of some twenty Kriar warriors whose knowledge and skills you and I can barely even begin to appreciate, much less understand.”

“That was just power,” Bannor protested. “Naked strength. Me bringing Wren, Ziedra, and Daena into tight focus.”

The other man ran a hand through his hair. “Far be it for you to over simplify.” He sighed. “Well, leave it to say that, yes, we can teach you that and a great deal more, and it will not be overly onerous. Dulcere and I will learn the rituals ourselves to ensure that nothing is overlooked.”

Bannor put hands on hips. “Just like that? Just snap your fingers and learn it?”

Corim looked down, found his sword and sheathed it and placed it on a bench. “Friend, that is the major difference between yourself and I. I enjoy academics. The opportunity to study and learn new things is not only a privilege—but a pleasure. Let me give you an example, you saw Wren demonstrating her art did you not?”

“Sure.”

“How many moves were there?”

“A lot. Like sixty or so.”

“Sixty seven. Twenty-two blocks, twenty-two kicks, and twenty three punches and transitions.” He stepped back and performed the same flourish of the hands almost exactly as Wren had. He stepped through several of the movements with fluid precision. He paused part way through. “I could continue, but you get the point. I can learn it from one demonstration and I don’t have your natural facility for patterns. So, first we will teach you how to learn. Then you will learn. In the short term, we shall take such shortcuts as necessary to meet certain deadlines as the one tonight.”

“Shortcuts?”

“Physical skills and coordination are not the same as ordinary memorization, they take greater time to absorb. For that, we have some Kriar magic that will suffice.”

“Telepathic teaching?” Wren asked.

Corim nodded.

The savant pushed out her lower lip. “I wondered if such a thing existed.”

“Tele-what?” Bannor snapped. “You mean just dump the skill in my skull? I’ve had that done before with a language. No way. That hurt like hades!”

“A language?” Corim asked. “A whole language? Interesting. How long did it take?”

“A few beats maybe—I thought I would die… I am not going through that again to learn some silly pipes!”

The burly man rubbed his chin. “Absorb an entire language in a few instants. That would be—” He blew his air out. “Stressful. This procedure would have no such duress. The volume of information is considerably smaller, and the time over which that transfer would take place much larger. I admit the procedure does create an ache of sorts, a discomfort about half the magnitude of a common head pain.”

Bannor frowned at him. “You’ve done this yourself?”

Corim nodded. “Aye. When there isn’t time for a long briefing prior to a mission the information is given mind to mind. There’s also been need for me to quickly learn the use of Kriar artifices.”

“Really?” Wren asked. “What kind of artifices?”

“I needed to operate one of those void ships like we were on.”

“Whoa,” the blonde savant seemed truly impressed. “Was it hard?”

“How can I describe it?” Corim said, pausing. “It’s a little like riding a horse. Getting on and getting it moving is the easy part. It’s turning and stopping that can be, ummm—complicated—especially when people are trying to kill you at the same time.”

Bannor rubbed the back of his head. “Spur of the moment, trying to learn something totally new while something is trying to pulp you; glad, I don’t know what that feels like…” He rolled his eyes.

Corim raised a finger and grinned. “It’s good reinforcement, you remember what you learned though, eh?”

He eyed the man sidelong. “Small consolation; really small.” He sighed and looked at the two studying him. “I hope I don’t regret going along with this.”

“I don’t think you will, Bannor,” Wren said. “I haven’t known Corim long, but Tal and Beia trust him—Koass had confidence enough to put him in the Protectorate.”

Bannor waved her off. He thumped Corim on the shoulder. “I trust this fellow. He’s straight as an arrow.” He leaned toward Wren. “It’s just he hasn’t been around you and me long. Even the simplest thing can just go… bad.”

The blonde savant winced then laughed. “Okay, based on that, I understand your hesitation. This is so straightforward, I don’t see how poor luck can mess it up.”

He shook his head. “The mind boggles.” He paused. “Still it’s better than no plan at all. Thinking of plans and teaching there is something…”

“What’s that?” Wren asked.

“I think you, me, Daena, Ziedra, and probably your father and brother should start practicing to work together.”

“I—” Wren stopped. “That’s a good idea. We just need someplace safe.”

Bannor laughed. “Someplace open I’d think, if our last experience was any example.”

“I have a suggestion,” Corim said. “I don’t think it’s advisable to practice where you can be observed. The best place is in Eternity’s heart. I can get clearance for you. It is in support of our case against the Baronians, yes?”

“For the most part,” Bannor answered.

Corim turned his head. “Say ‘yes’.”

Bannor’s brow furrowed. “Okay, yes. Even so, how will we go back and forth?”

“Posh, a trivial detail. Both Dulcere and Radian can go between here and there. Aarlen, myself, Beia, Sen… That’s to start. Koass gave our task-force any ‘reasonable resource’ in the pursuit of the mission objectives. Transport to and from a secure practice area for you to perfect your ‘anti Baronian’ techniques will be not be a hard sell I assure you.”

“Anti Baronian?” Bannor repeated. “That’s not—”

Corim held up a hand. “Shhh. I’ve learned that nine tenths of bureaucracy is what you call something.”

Wren was stroking her neck. “You know, I think I better get Damay involved in this…”

Bannor looked at her. “Who’s Damay?”

Wren raised an eyebrow. “What, in all your snooping, you never sensed there were two force savants?”

“Huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Two?” He entered his Nola sight tracing back Wren’s pattern back to its prime source in the pool where all Savant’s gained their power. It was that pool that allowed him to trace Daena when she hid herself. His knowledge of her pattern made it a simple matter to find and follow her threads. He had never really consciously scanned through the masses of threads to catalogue how many savants there were. He found a set of threads suspiciously like Wren’s, followed them to their terminus and jerked back. “Whoa! She’s powerful.”

Wren nodded. “Oh yeah. More powerful than the four of us put together.”

“Where has she been while we’ve been in all this trouble?”

“Well, before you and Sarai messed up all my plans, she was the one I was going to talk into training you. She has no way to teleport so she couldn’t catch up to us even had she known.”

“Oh.”

“Am I correct in assuming this is Damay Alostar, the force savant of legend?” Corim asked.

Wren nodded.

“I am a trifle hazy on this, but the histories say she died. It was—” He paused. “Aarlen—who killed her.”

“Actually, Aarlen captured her.” Wren corrected. “Gaea freed her. I restored her.”

“Fascinating,” Corim said with a nod. “Well, I believe we’ve talked enough. It sounds like we have our agendas for the day. Let’s get some good practice in before breakfast. Bannor I see you have your axes, join us?”

He looked down at his axes and put his hands on the worn hilts, and pulled them out. “Yes,” he said with a nod. “It’s time to start training. I have a feeling I’m going to need it…”

Chapter Eighteen
Complications

« ^ »

Some of my kin have arbitrarily labeled Bannor as dull and slow. They do not know my One as I do. He is somewhat coarse and obviously uneducated, he is however, far more clever than anybody realizes. I myself have witnessed how quickly he adapts. It can be quite unsettling at times…
—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran,
Third Princess of Malan

Training with Corim and Wren turned out to be a far more enjoyable experience than he anticipated. Corim was obviously a teacher by trade and spoke with a patient insightful authority that invited respect. Though most of what they did was simple pattern drills, there was also tactics and why certain combinations of attacks and defenses worked better than others.

Sarai came upon them some half bell into the endeavor. When she saw Bannor training with them, the smile she gave him was so genuine and warm it made him tingle inside. He had always shooed away her prods to practice with various excuses thinking it was more habit than a real desire to share something with him. The glow in her violet eyes and her eagerness to join showed he could not have been more wrong.

By the time they needed to break for breakfast, they had a gathered several more participants and observers. The secluded yard echoed with the rustle of clothing, the rasp of boots on stone, and the rush of breaths of exertion.

Though obviously neither needed the practice, Senalloy and Dulcere followed the drills with quiet serenity. In that patience, Bannor saw each one’s feelings for Corim.

The whole De’Falcone family, husband, wife and daughter joined the drills as a unit, following along with the earnest zeal that was so characteristic of Laramis. To see the broad shouldered Justicar stepping and turning next to his giant wife and reedy daughter reminded Bannor of the kinships that had managed to flourish in the face of all the adversity of the past two seasons.

Voluptuous Ziedra and her gold husband came, the dark-haired wife floating down to sway gracefully next to Wren and perform with a dancer’s studied perfection.

Each person had their own reasons for taking part, but in Bannor’s mind it was the unity expressed that was important; strangers become allies, burgeoning on true friendship.

At breakfast time, they split up to go their own ways. Corim, Senalloy, and Dulcere were to have a private meeting with Queen Kalindinai and King Jhaan. Laramis and his family were meeting with friends that had traveled north from Coormeer to visit him. Wren, Ziedra, and Radian were going into town to have some sort of family gathering between Wren’s parents and the gold man’s. Bannor guessed it must be something special because at the mention of the Felspar family Sarai took a distinct interest.

With everyone elsewhere that left Bannor and Sarai alone to stroll back to their quarters. Sarai was glowing and happy. Had he known a little exercise would make her this cheerful he would have done it sooner!

“That was nice,” Sarai said, humming quietly next to him. They took their time, following the meandering concourse the came up behind green run. It was the long way back, but neither of them was in a hurry. Morning birds chattered in the boughs overhead, the high pitched sounds contrasted against the rush of the river spilling through the rock cascades along the trail.

Bannor ran his hand along the smooth bark of the trees along the walk. He glanced over at Sarai with a raised eyebrow. “Even with Wren there?”

She raised her chin and smiled at him. “My One, you know she and I get along fine now.” She paused and sniffed a dew-covered flower just opening its petals to the rays of the sun. She sighed and looked up at him. “What I don’t like is that she gets you into trouble. However,” she rose, reached out and gave his ear a tug. “She couldn’t get you into trouble if you didn’t go along with it.” She bumped him with her hip and pulled him down the path.

“Star, you got me into that mess. You wanted me to spy on Janai and Daena, and they were being called to task by the Eternals.”

“Hmph. I think you did a lot more than was called for.”

He reached out to the ring Senalloy had given him hanging on a chain around her neck. Sarai hadn’t taken it off since he gave it to her. “It’s how I got this for you.” He jingled the ring on the chain.

She looked down at the ring and frowned. “Well…” She sniffed. “Just because I love this beautiful ring, don’t think I have to like what you did to get it… especially without telling me first.”

He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to win that battle, best to change the subject. “I noticed you took an interest when you heard Radian’s family were in the city. Are they something special?”

Sarai nodded. “Oh yes. They are a strong family indeed. They are the power behind the King of Ivaneth. Though they do not much interfere in his affairs, they are the muscle that sets things aright. Corwin has suffered peace with Ivaneth because of them.”

“Are they bad?” He asked. “I mean will it be trouble for them to be here?”

“I doubt they are here to create any mischief. It’s really not their way. I surmise they are mostly interested in Wren and yourself.”

Bannor’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

“They’re a family of mages—research.”

“Oh. That’s right, Janai mentioned that they came to visit while I was still recuperating from the fight.”

“Indeed.” Sarai nodded. “Mother shooed them away.”

“How does Wren’s family know them?”

She shrugged. “The girl gets around.”

“That’s—” He cut himself off, pausing in the trail and taking Sarai’s arm and pulling her to the cover of a tree.

Sarai obviously felt his tension, and looked around for the source of his alarm. “What?” She whispered.

“There,” he said nodding across river to a cluster of rocks on the far side. Hunkered down to avoid observation from the main avenue running through the trees bent a tall dark-haired elf dressed in flowing blue court robes chased in silver. He stood opposite another elf wearing the mail and livery of Griffin Elite, the guards that served in the defense of Citadel.

“So, it’s uncle Bertrand,” Sarai said casually. “Why are you making a fuss?” Her brow furrowed. She slid down next to the tree making sure to conceal herself. She answered her own question. “It’s so early and why is he talking to one of Father’s guardsman?” She frowned, as they watched Bertrand listen to some kind of report and getting visually agitated. The noble was obviously nervous because he kept glancing around to verify that the two of them weren’t being observed. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” she asked.

Bannor shook his head. With fifty paces separating them and the fast running stream frothing through the rocks, it was difficult to even detect their hushed voices much less make out words. Their threads he could see, and the emotions visible in their threads only made clearer the feelings portrayed by their body language. The guardsman’s threads were shot through with grays and reds, tension, dismay, resignation—someone being forced to reveal information. Bertrand’s threads glowed orange with the anxiety of frustration, tinged with the dark blue and black of concern. “From what I can see of their threads. Whatever the guard is telling him, it’s under duress. Bertrand isn’t real happy about what he’s hearing. He’s frustrated about something…and worried.”

“Worried about what?” Sarai pondered in a whisper.

The noble’s fists were clenched as he asked questions and nodded in response to the answers. The guardsman’s body was hunched as though under great weight, his shoulders rounded and his long fingered hands splayed in gestures that pleaded for understanding. It didn’t take the power of a Nola to see he was a messenger who didn’t want to get punished for bearing bad news.

“Do it, Bannor, I know you can.”

“Do what?”

“Astral travel over there and listen in.”

“Star, I don’t speak elvish, remember?”

“Damn it,” Sarai thumped her forehead with her fist. She growled and looked around. “I swear, when we don’t need them, we’re up to our armpits in savants, mages, dragons and aliens. When we could really use their help, they aren’t around.”

“I can get Daena here,” he offered. “She can teleport here in an instant.”

“Do it—” She cut herself off. “Never mind, they’re done.”

Bertrand had dismissed the guardsman with a snarl audible to their hiding spot. He watched the armored elf until he disappeared through a gate before turning and stalking off in different direction. From the scowl on his face, and vibration in his threads, it was clear he was heading off to do something he didn’t want to do.

When Bertrand was out of view, Sarai made a quick move to stand. “We have to—oooh,” She staggered, her shoulder thudding against the tree as she put an arm to her abdomen and a hand to her suddenly pallid face.

A shock went through Bannor making his heart jump in his chest. “Star?”

“Mmmm,” Sarai let out a sound with a grimace.

He gripped her shoulders. “What’s the matter?” He didn’t wait for a response, but dipped into his nola sight. He immediately saw that her threads were markedly dimmer than normal. The unborn’s threads were lit up in brilliant hues, strong—almost too strong. The baby’s threads pulsed, and as they did, Sarai’s energies seemed to dwindle.

Silvery hair falling around her face, Bannor felt all her weight come down against his hands, forcing him to lower her to the ground. She was trembling as though cold.

“Dizzy…” She muttered.

As he thrashed in the grip of deciding what to do, the activity of the baby subsided. The drain on Sarai appeared to have subsided. Slowly, her threads were beginning to return to their normal brightness.

His wife-to-be sighed. “Whoa.” She moaned. “I can barely move.”

“Just lay still.” He felt a knot twist in his stomach. Being afraid to accept help is what got he and Sarai into trouble before. He didn’t know what he had seen meant, but didn’t think it meant any good. He needed the help of someone who knew something about such things.

He closed his eyes, visualized his link to Wren, and sent a thought to her. <Wren!>

Through his link to the blonde savant he felt her convulse, giving the mental impression of someone swaying back and almost falling out of a chair. <What!? What!? What!? Ahhh!> the shocked response came back. <Bannor?>

<Wren, it’s Sarai. She’s collapsed out here near Green Run. It’s something to do with the baby! We’re right across the river from Glissen gate. I don’t know whether to take her inside or…>

<Don’t move her! Just stay with her. I’ll get help.> Bannor felt her turn her attention away from him.

“Bannor?” Sarai asked. “You’re shaking. I’m fine, just a little weak. That’s all.”

“Don’t move, please,” he said in his most calm tone. He sat down in the walk, scooted over and made a pillow of his lap, and eased her shoulders into it.

“My One, stop fussing, I’m okay. It’s just a dizzy spell. I’ve had them before.” She started to push herself up, but he held her down.

“Star, if you don’t keep still, I’m going to bite you. I saw your threads and you aren’t moving until somebody much wiser than both of us looks at you.”

Agonizing moments passed. How long would it take Wren to find someone? They were in a little traveled part of the grounds surrounding the citadel—the very reason Bertrand had picked it for a clandestine meeting with the guard.

He stroked Sarai’s hair. “I’m not taking any chances with the baby. I called for help. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Bannor, no, please,” Sarai said in a weak voice. “Mother will have a fit.”

“Let her have a fit. I’m no healer and neither are you, I’d rather be too cautious than make a mistake that hurts either you or the baby.”

She took a shuddering breath and reached up to his hand, her glowing violet eyes looking up at him. “I love you.”

He touched her face. “I love you too.”

Bannor heard a sizzling sound from a short distance off and glanced around. Wren, Radian, Ziedra and a new woman dressed in blue Bannor had not seen before had appeared near the Glissen gate. He waved his arm to get their attention. How had Wren fetched a healer so fast?

The new person gestured and the four of them floated across the river to settle on the trail a short distance away. Bannor saw then that this new woman had gold skin the same as Radian and Dulcere. Like Dulcere, her eyes were solid black that seemed to have stars winking in them. She had a face too perfect to be considered beautiful framed by dark auburn hair that tumbled loose over her shoulders. She, like Dulcere, possessed bizarre threads not found in other creatures he had met, but unlike the ancient Kriar woman, this one possessed magic—strong magic—so powerful it made him wonder for a moment if she were an avatar.

Wren dashed up, slid to a stop, and crouched down. “Did she fall?”

“No,” he responded. “I had a hold of her.”

“My One,” Sarai pushed at him with feeble hands, obviously still drained. “I’ll be okay.”

“Bannor,” Wren said. “This Lady with me is Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri Felspar. She knows about complicated pregnancies.”

Bannor nodded to the woman. “Lady Felspar,” he dipped his head.

The woman touched the blood-colored triangular jewel in her forehead and then another near her collar and bowed her head in some kind of formal greeting. “Can you explain what happened?”

“Well, we were crouched down here, and she went to stand up a little too fast and she started to faint. That wasn’t the part that scared me.”

The gold woman’s flawless face made up with such exacting care made her look like some fantastic doll. She raised an eyebrow. “And what did you see?”

“Milady, I have a sort of second sight. When I saw down into her body I saw the threads of her essence almost wink out. The baby’s energies were double or triple normal.”

The woman nodded. She hiked up her robes and knelt down by Sarai. “Arminwen T’Evagduran, my name is Cassandra Felspar. I have some skills in medicine. I do not wish to alarm you, but I believe your husband-to-be did the right thing in summoning a healer.” She drew a breath. “Please, with your permission, I’d like to examine you to make sure it’s all right to move you.”

That was ridiculous, she didn’t need permission. He was all the permission she needed! “You don’t need to—” He stopped when Cassandra placed on long-nailed hand on his shoulder. The charge in that hand by itself was enough to cut him off.

Sarai looked up at her with glowing violet eyes. “Yes. Please.”

Cassandra nodded. “Arminwen, I apologize, I must touch you.”

Sarai nodded.

Expression intent and serious, she moved with a crafts-person’s methodical precision, she placed a palm gently across Sarai’s forehead, then held a palm up to cast one of Sarai’s glowing eyes in shadow, then drew it away.

Ziedra leaned down next to Bannor and put a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be okay. Nonna Cassandra is about the best person you could have look after her, really.”

“Lady Cassandra, I need to tell you this baby is—”

Cassandra put a finger to her lips then spoke in a whisper. “All babies are extraordinary.” She flipped her hair back and placed two fingers against Sarai’s left shoulder, then her right, then slid a finger down the middle of her chest stopping a little above her sternum.

The gold woman frowned. She made a gesture over the spot and her hand glowed. Sarai twitched and let out a quiet gasp. She grabbed for the spot but Cassandra guarded her hands away. “Shhh, this needs to be done.”

The fabric of Sarai’s blouse bulged up. Cassandra gestured again. The material shimmered and something black floated up to her hand through the fibers.

“Tsk, Arminwen, confusing your child this way, it’s not healthy for either of you.”

Bannor frowned and looked closer.

Cassandra held it up to him, a black crystal a little smaller than the end of his thumb cut into a spindle shape. He had, of course, seen many of them. They were a device used by many immortals. “A flux stone.”

“Aye.” The mage said with a grin. “A drained one. As I look through the focal points of her body I see evidence of conservation and channeling of magic. She has been trying very hard to hold onto that energy.”

That sure sounded like Sarai.

“I need the stone for my elemental powers,” Sarai mumbled.

“No, Arminwen, you had those before this stone, and trying to store away elemental energy is just confusing the baby.”

“She takes so much of my strength,” Sarai moaned.

“No doubt,” Cassandra responded, pushing out her lower lip. She placed a hand on Sarai’s abdomen, moving her fingers with great care from spot to spot. She nodded to herself and clicked her tongue. “Hmmm. The baby is healthy, far healthier than her mother I’m afraid.”

“Is Sarai in danger?”

Cassandra’s expression darkened. “Yes, there is a hazard. Obviously, she conceived in a different physical configuration than she is in now. The baby’s early development took place at higher energy levels than are present now. Your wife-to-be has been storing away energy in the flux stone to suffice for when the little one has a growth spurt. Unfortunately, the child has now developed to the point that the little bit of elemental energy she is able to draw is not able to keep up with the demand—she has none left over to handle those times when extra is needed.”

Bannor shook his head. “Lady Cassandra, I am surprised, I would have thought nobody would have experience in such things.”

The gold woman chuckled. She flicked a hand toward Radian. “You think that little demon there was a normal baby?” She shook her head. “Greedy little monster never would leave any for me.”

Radian covered his face. “Mother!”

Ziedra hugged her husband.

Bannor glanced back at Radian and then to his gold skinned mother. She hardly looked more than in her late twenties. Of course, neither did Dulcere, and her age was measured in millennia. “Will she be okay?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Not unless she receives treatment. Little, what’s her name going to be?”

“I was thinking Vhina Drielle,” Bannor answered.

“Well, little Vhina started her life in a much stronger body than the one she’s in now. She’s unintentionally hurting her mother because she’s hungry. She needs more than nutrients to grow… she needs magic… and fair quantities of it.”

“But Mother told me,” Sarai said with a groan. “That working magic was dangerous for her.”

“Early on, absolutely,” Cassandra agreed, pressing Sarai’s shoulder. She rose slowly. “Bannor, go ahead and pick her up. We need to get her in a bed.”

Bannor carefully disentangled himself from Sarai, and scooped her up.

“No,” Sarai demurred, hitting him on the shoulder. “I can—I can walk.”

“Star, quit it,” he told her. “Lady Cassandra seems to know what she’s about.”

“Radian, do you know their quarters?” Cassandra asked.

“Indeed I do. Off we go.” He tilted his head back, glowing blue eyes flaring with white light.

With a twisting sense in his stomach, Bannor saw all the threads of the environment bend around them and focus into a single point. At the same time, he felt himself pulled, and in that instant of time they were standing in the conference circle in Sarai’s chambers in Green Run.

Cassandra looked around. “My my my, so very nice. Beautiful. Well, let us get our expectant mother in bed.”

Bannor lead the way, house maids and stewards suddenly rushing around him like frightened animals. It was amazing how much common they could speak when they were concerned for their princess.

The doors to the bedroom suite were pulled open for Bannor as he carried Sarai in and laid her down on the bed and removed her boots.

“We better call Kalindinai,” Bannor said. “If I don’t tell her right away, she’ll have my head.”

“Servants are way ahead of you,” Wren said. “I saw three light out the main hall like their tails were on fire.”

“Lady Cass—andra?” Sarai held up a hand toward the gold mage. “Can anything be—done?”

The mage tilted her head to one side. “Of course. I just don’t know what you were thinking when you schemed to bring this little one into the world. Of course she’s creating changes in you, but they aren’t going to keep up with her development. How were you planning on nursing her?”

Sarai shook her head.

Suddenly, something snapped into place for Bannor. The body switch in Gladshiem when Daena’s tao was in Sarai’s body—she had almost begged Daena to stay in her body, much to the dismay of everyone else. She had been hoping that Daena’s first one energies would leave some permanent change behind. Circumstances had curtailed that stay.

“My, my, what a mess,” Cassandra said, sitting on the bed next to Sarai. “I can get you on your feet again, but you are going to need regular heterotropic treatments. You will need supplemental nourishment, and someone with considerable aura strength to help you through the growth spurts. I assure you they will only get more arduous as you move into the last trimester.”

“So, she really is in danger?”

Cassandra focused on him. “Let me make it clear. They will both die without treatment.”

This caused all the women in the room including the elf maids fidgeting in the corners to start.

“Could you repeat that last part?” A ringing female voice asked from the doorway, the commanding tone of Queen Kalindinai.

Damn, she had gotten here fast. It was a long run from the even the nearest part of the main citadel; two or three hundred paces at least.

The Queen was dressed in gray casual robes and not for court, her hair was only half braided. From the red in her cheeks, she had sprinted from wherever she had been. King Jhaan stood behind her in plain breeches and doublet, his long gray hair loose about his face. Behind them were a small entourage of guards, maids, and healers.

Cassandra curtsied. “Dom’ista, Matradomma,”

“Devil the court etiquette woman,” the King said. “Is she in immediate danger?”

“Dom’ista, that’s what I was just saying,” Cassandra answered with a nod, her ebon-colored eyes flashing. “They are both in danger without appropriate care. I give them a little more than a tenday before the drain on your daughter’s system causes heart failure.”

Sarai groaned. “No.”

The words said in such a matter-of-fact hit Bannor in the chest like a mallet. It stole his air. It seemed to strike the King and Queen with equal force.

“Can you save both of them?”

Cassandra smiled. “Certainly. It’s nursing the little one that will be the biggest bother. Immortal wet-nurses are somewhat hard to come by.”

“Immortal?” the King said with a scowl. “What’s this? I had heard the child would be special…” His voice trailed off.

The gold mage shrugged. “I don’t know if her kind has a name.”

“She’ll be a first one like Daena,” Bannor answered.

“What?” the King burst out.

“Are you certain, Bannor?” Kalindinai asked. “I knew she would be strong, but that strong?”

Bannor wasn’t about to go into how that was what Sarai had been intending all along, and the very thing that had riled Loki into attacking them. “Well, not exactly like her, an elven first one I guess.” He shrugged. “I’ve made mistakes before I suppose…” He let his voice trail off.

“Wait a moment,” Cassandra said holding up a hand. “Just like who again?”

“Daena Sheento,” Wren said. “I must have told you about her.”

“When?”

“Oh.” Wren rubbed the back of her head. “Right, I was going to tell you when breakfast was interrupted by Bannor screaming in my head.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“Stop. Just stop.” Kalindinai held up both hands. Everyone paused and focused on the Queen. “Lady Cassandra, you said you can provide the necessary care for my daughter. Do you need anything from us—funds, materials?”

Cassandra drew a breath. “Sil’matra Kalindinai, normally I would attach a fee to such a service, but we are guests of Malan, and in the interest of good will between family Felspar and family T’Evagduran I will assist for the cost of materials only. This is provided I get some access to your son-in-law to be, and this Daena Sheento that Wren mentions… and, of course, some invitations to the wedding.”

Kalindinai glanced at her husband, then to Sarai’s pale face. “Done—on the condition you show me the procedures so that if the need arises I may assist.”

“Agreed.” Cassandra answered with a nod.

“You!” Kalindinai pointed a finger at him. “You knew about this.”

Bannor clutched his chest. “Matradomma, no. Not like this. What do I know about babies… much less…” He threw out his hands. “This?”

The Queen growled. “You are going to learn.” She looked to Cassandra. “You will teach him.”

Cassandra swayed back. “Pardon, Sil’matra? I merely offered to treat your daughter.”

The Queen’s tone lowered. “You are a guest of Malan. Consider it a—favor.”

The gold woman drew a long slow breath and dipped her head. “Yes, Sil’matra.”

“Good, now,” she strolled across the room and sat on the bed next to her daughter and stroked her hair. “Are you in any pain, Mimi?”

Sarai looked up at her mother with a dazed expression. The Queen could be so stern one moment, and in a flash be the nurturing individual one expected a mother to be. “No, just tired. Bannor and I worked out earlier and I was feeling fine.”

“Worked out?” She raised an eyebrow and glared at Bannor.

He staggered back as though stabbed in the heart. “It was just light exercise, Matradomma.”

“It better have been.”

“Kal, let the boy breathe,” the King said.

Kalindinai frowned at him but seemed to relax a little. Kalindinai focused on Cassandra again. “So, what is the first step?”

Cassandra frowned. “Well, we can get Sarai up and around with a biophase charge to replenish lost vitality and get her energy levels up.” She gestured to Wren. “Wren can help with that. I expect Bannor will be able to do it with some training.”

“I thought only immorts and changelings could use biophase?” Kalindinai said.

“Well, they are the only ones who can use it in any quantity, yes. Your daughter was cleverly cheating the energy requirements of her pregnancy with this.” She held out the black jewel.

“A flux stone,” Kalindinai said taking it from Cassandra. “Ah, I see, she has been sustaining the baby with conservation.” She frowned down at her daughter. “A bit too smart for her own good it would seem.”

Sarai moaned.

“Her energy level will have to be maintained with periodic treatments until I can create some kind of patch to keep her levels constant.”

“Why not fill up her flux stone with energy, Mother?” Radian asked.

“It’s not really designed to work that way. She needs constant energy consistent with what the baby needs. The body of an immort would adapt as the baby developed. So, a device to simulate that also has to be able to take the load when the baby goes through a growth spurt.”

“A growth spurt?” Kalindinai repeated.

“Yes, that is what caused her collapse this morning. The baby went through a growth spurt. During that time it needs triple or quadruple its normal energy. That demand exhausted all your daughter’s stored energy and started draining her life energy directly. Right now, the baby is using all of her elemental energy simply to subsist. A normal woman would have collapsed a moon or more ago.”

“So these treatments?” the Queen asked.

“Around our house, we call them ‘getting a charge’.” Cassandra’s voice trailed off. “It’s best done by someone—ummm, close.”

Kalindinai raised an eyebrow. She glanced at Wren. “And you can do this?”

Wren blinked and nodded.

She gestured to Sarai. “Do it.”

The blonde savant’s blue eyes went wide. “Now?”

The Queen pointed.

Wren sighed, she knelt down next to the bed between Kalindinai and Cassandra. “Hey you,” she patted Sarai’s hand.

“Show off,” Sarai mumbled, smiling up at her with a drowsy expression.

“Bannor,” Wren told him. “Why don’t you get on the other side and hold her hand.” She looked down at Sarai.

Bannor went around the foot of the bed, scooted out into the middle and held her hand. Such a strange thing they were taking part in. Sarai looked down at him and smiled.

“Okay, I’m going to slip a hand under you,” Wren said. She pushed her fingers under the small of Sarai’s back. She then placed a hand on Sarai’s thigh. “All right, this is going to feel strange.”

Wren shut her eyes and leaned her head back. Through her closed lids, a blue glow illuminated her face. The savant’s skin appeared to change color.

Sarai jerked, her hand clamping onto Wren’s arm.

Wren relaxed.

The Queen leaned down. “Did she hurt you, Mimi?”

Sarai blinked with wide eyes and stared up at Wren. “N-n-no, just, ummm, surprised me.”

The Queen frowned. She looked at Wren sidelong. “At another time, you will have to demonstrate this to me so I know what the fuss is about.”

Wren’s eyes bulged. “Ummm, yes, Matradomma.” She looked back down to Sarai. “Ready?”

Sarai nodded.

Wren repeated the process. Sarai flinched but this time visibly made an effort to compose herself. After a few moments, Sarai bit down on a sound, her breathing speeding up.

“Whoa,” Wren murmured. “It’s like she’s hollow, where is it all going?”

“Baby,” Cassandra said placing a hand on Sarai’s abdomen. “She’s hungry. Mother’s been starving the poor thing.”

The Queen shot an irritated look at Cassandra.

“Keep going?” Wren asked.

“Keep going,” Cassandra repeated, feeling the side of Sarai’s neck and touching her shoulder.

A fine sheen of perspiration had broken out on Sarai’s forehead. Eyes shut tight, she bit down on a sound and rocked her head side to side. The color was returning to her skin, and the hand laced in his clamped down with more and more vigor.

“There,” Cassandra determined. “Ease up, Wren. Half a breath more.”

After a few moments, Wren relaxed with a sigh. She gently pulled her hands way and looked down at Sarai. “I’ve never seen anyone except maybe Desiray take that much of a charge!” She patted Sarai on the arm. “You okay?”

Sarai swallowed. She licked her lips and blinked. “F-f-fine. I feel—I feel much stronger now.”

“After a charge like that, you should feel ready to take on an army one-handed.” Wren responded.

“Mimi?” Kalindinai brushed at the hair on her daughter’s forehead.

“I feel much better, Mother,” Sarai answered, some vibrancy coming back to her voice. “Apparently, that’s what I needed.”

“You certainly look much better,” Kalindinai said, starting to look enthused for the first time. She turned to Wren. “Thank you, Arwen.” She nodded to Cassandra. “Lady Felspar. Now about this—device?”

“It is something similar to flux stone in design, much like these,” she indicated the red triangular jewels en-fleshed in her forehead, and an oval one a little smaller than a thumb glowing in the tissue right by her collar bone. “These are for the focusing and regulation of energy. A flux stone is a channel, a reservoir that helps a body that already generates energy manage and concentrate it for specific tasks. Matrixes like mine create energy by capturing it from the environment and dispersing it slowly in my body.”

“That wouldn’t help Sarai would it though?” Kalindinai said.

“Not really. She doesn’t have the adaptations necessary. However, there are devices that function on the same principle that generate a kind of power that can be utilized by a less evolved host body.” Cassandra saw Kalindinai’s frown and shrugged.

“Like Loric’s life-stones,” Wren said.

Cassandra nodded. “Precisely.”

“And how long would such a thing take to construct?” the King asked, coming to stand at Sarai’s bedside.

The gold mage massaged her throat considering Sarai with her dark eyes. “Not less than a tenday I would think. I need to observe your daughter and accurately assess the growth of the baby and determine if other safeguards are necessary to protect the health of both of them. There is also the matter of my work-spaces which are not here…”

“Lady Cassandra, your reputation precedes you. We know you truck with Ivaneth in good faith and there is an academy sponsored by you at our doorstep.” He paused and his voice dropped. “We are aware that this is a relatively unique case requiring specialized knowledge that you obviously possess, otherwise we would not impose. The resources of Kul’Amaron are at your disposal.”

“Your majesty,” Cassandra said. “This is a great deal of work, and I am on vacation for the first time in a decade.”

The King frowned. “This is a rather pressing issue, you have said so yourself.”

She nodded and blinked ebon-colored eyes at him. “Your majesty, I’ve been dealing with ‘pressing issues’ for more than a decade—that’s why I haven’t had a vacation.”

He put fists on hips. “All right, Lady Cassandra, we can smell a bait. What is it you would have of us?”

The gold woman ran fingers through her hair and pushed out her lower lip. “Fire wine. Dolandil Stock. I think a couple of casks would sooth my frazzled nerves while I work this—” She paused dramatically. “—Arduous task during my much-deserved time off.”

The King rolled his amber eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Dolandil? Our personal stock no less. Is that what it takes to lubricate your magical skills, Lady Cassandra?”

She smiled. “It does wonders, your Majesty.”

King Jhaan glanced at Kalindinai. “So, tell me, were it four instead of two would that put a hasten on your creation of the magic my daughter needs?” Cassandra looked down at Sarai. Glanced over to Bannor then back to the King. “It might at that, I could persuade my husband to lend a hand. He is very skilled in these matters.”

The King brushed at his long gray hair and looked down at his daughter. “Then do so. Four casks will be delivered to you this afternoon. Kalindinai will make available what magical resources we possess. You will be given a letter of charge for your comings and goings.” He paused. “That reminds me, we have a guest, a Lady Dulcere, your semblances are much alike. Are you familiar with her?”

“My daughters are friends with her,” Cassandra answered. “We’ve had occasion to work together a few times—more of those pressing issues that require vacating time.”

“Ah,” he responded. “Cassandra, how many of the Felspar clan are in Malan?”

“Currently, all but a few. I have a summer keep on the north side—near the vineyards.”

“Yes, interesting coincidence that,” the King said with a wry smile.

“No coincidence at all, actually,” Cassandra responded with a grin. “Your Majesty, all levity aside, I will take the utmost care in this process. Arminwen Sarai will get the care she needs. The only ready answer I do not have is after the baby is born. As I said, nursing the child is a problem.”

“You need an immortal that’s just given birth, right?” Bannor asked. “That’s why it’s hard?”

“Well, not necessarily that,” Cassandra said. “With the right magic any willing female immortal could suit the need.” She shrugged. “It’s the willing part that’s difficult.”

“Any, you say?” Kalindinai said with a raised eyebrow. At Cassandra’s nod she narrowed her eyes. “I know a certain well-endowed young immortal in a hurry to grow up…”

“Daena?” Sarai said. “I don’t know…”

“Who better?” Kalindinai glanced at Bannor.

“It’s jumping ahead a bit,” Cassandra said. “Let’s get Sarai up and going first. How do you feel now?”

“Much stronger,” she answered. She gave Bannor’s hand a squeeze.

“I suggest you allow Wren to give you another charge in about a half bell, and then a second a half bell after that, and you should be good for the day. For tomorrow and onward you will need charges about once every four bells.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. “Someone has to do—that—to me three times a day?” Her voice rose as she finished her words.

Cassandra sighed. “Six. Don’t forget nighttime. Your baby doesn’t stop growing simply because you’re asleep.”

“Lady Cassandra, I can’t—Wren can’t—I—we—no. I have far too much to do among other things.”

“Arminwen, without those charges the only thing you’ll be doing is lying on your back and little else. Since you are uncomfortable with Wren doing it, I suggest you get Bannor trained to do it, and anyone else you would feel comfortable with. Although, I admit there are few enough people who can give them.”

“Cassandra,” Wren said. “Sarai got immortalized by Idun’s fruit, maybe little bits of it during the day? She is my grand mother I might be able to wheedle one out of her.”

“An excellent thought,” the mage remarked pressing a long-nailed finger to her lips. “My understanding is that process is very harsh, is it not?”

“It is,” Kalindinai said. “But it probably could be buffered, perhaps in a potion.”

“That sounds feasible,” Cassandra answered with a nod. “I will leave that in your hands. I must make preparations to make Sarai’s device.”

Bannor’s wife-to-be let out an exasperated breath. “Could we stop referring to it as a ‘device’. You make it sound like a marital aid.”

“I’m not sure ‘energy implants’ sound much better,” Cassandra stated in a wry tone.

“No,” Sarai scowled.

Cassandra rose. “I would like to finish breakfast and get about these new tasks. I will get back to Sarai to check on her progress.” She leaned close to Sarai. “I know it makes you uncomfortable. However you get it, every four bells—biophase—no exceptions or you are going to fall down and not be able to get up.”

Sarai rocked her head back.

“I will make sure she gets her treatments,” Kalindinai said. “Cassandra, with all your specialties in this field, you wouldn’t happen to know a spell that can do this?”

Cassandra smiled. “I might be able to dig something up.”

“All right,” Kalindinai said. “We’ll meet later to discuss price.”

The gold mage bowed.

“Sarai,” Wren said. “I’m going to breakfast with Zee and Rad. I’ll be back to fix you up, okay?”

Sarai nodded.

Ziedra patted Sarai on the arm, and Radian bowed, to Sarai then the King and Queen. The four of them filed out escorted by two of Sarai’s stewards.

“What a mess,” Bannor mumbled.

“Bannor,” Sarai said. “You have to learn how to do that. I do not want Wren doing that to me all the time.”

“Did she do something wrong, Mimi?” the Queen asked.

“No,” Sarai shook her head. “I—If you get her to demonstrate, you’ll understand. You saw her, she knows… that’s why she hesitated.” She looked to Bannor. “My One, help me to the lavatory. I need to take a bath. Have one of the staff bring my breakfast there. After all that, I’m starving.”

The Queen rose and put hands on hips. “We still need to talk about this plan of yours—” She shook her head. “It’s obvious now that it was a plan.”

“To put an immortal on the throne of Malan,” the King said. “A child that cannot be eclipsed by either of your sisters…” The King’s words hung in the air. “Yes, much to ponder. I don’t know whether to praise your ingenuity or scold your foolishness.”

“I know what I am to do,” the Queen growled. “I saved some of Idun’s fruit, I will see if something can be done with it to help your condition.” She pointed at Sarai. “Noon sup—our quarters—be there.” She turned to Bannor. “Make sure she’s there if you have to carry her.”

He dipped his head. “Yes, Matradomma.”

“Enjoy your bath,” the Queen said. She and the King left the room, taking their retainers with them.

Sarai watched them go with a sober expression on her face. When she heard the door to the front entrance click closed she swung her legs out of bed and hopped up.

“Hey!” Bannor missed grabbing her as she stepped away.

“Stop it.” Sarai said. “Don’t fret. That ‘treatment’ of Wren’s is powerful. I was ready to bounce off the walls.” She drew a deep breath. “Best I’ve felt in a fortnight.” She smoothed her clothing. “Uhmm, I need that bath.” She headed for the lavatory.

“Sarai, you’re acting strange,” Bannor said following her.

“I feel dirty, my One.”

“What, why?”

She turned her violet eyes to him. “I don’t want to feel like that with anyone but you.”

“Feel like what?”

She turned her face away. “Leave me alone for a little bit, will you. I’ll be all right, I promise.”

He caught her hand and turned her back around and stared into her eyes. “You promise?”

She nodded. She turned her face, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Promise.” For some reason, his heart was beating fast. He didn’t want to pry into her with his nola.

He held onto her for a few moments before letting go. “I’ll go get you breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped out of the bath and heard the door shut firmly behind him. He looked back. It was the first time in recent memory she had ever closed the door. He swallowed. He didn’t like that feeling.

He headed to the kitchen to get some breakfast for Sarai.

He leaned in the kitchen doorway where a half dozen maids and stewards were gathered around speaking in hushed voices. At his appearance, they all straightened up. He recognized Psendra and Giliaja the two who usually served meals and handled Sarai’s clothing.

“Psendra, Giliaja,” he addressed them.

The two matronly elf women rushed up to him with uncharacteristic energy. Under normal circumstances, he was lucky to get a second glance from either female. Truth be told, he had always suspected them of being the ring leaders of the ‘ignore Bannor campaign’ that had made his stay under Sarai’s roof all but unlivable. He wagered their sudden enthusiasm was because they wanted news of Sarai.

“Psendra,” he said in Common to the elder of the two. He knew she spoke fluent Common but always pretended she didn’t. “I know all of you are concerned about Sarai, Cassandra assures me that both Sarai and the baby will be fine as long as she gets the proper care. Right now, Sarai, wants breakfast brought into her bath. Can you help me with that?”

“Saar,” Psendra said in an Elvish drawl, not bothering to pretend she couldn’t speak common. “I will take care of it.”

“I’ll take it in, I just need to…”

“Saar,” she said, hands on hips. “I serve. You go.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look there’s no need for a fuss, she just…”

The maid pointed to the doorway. “Out.”

He turned around with a sigh. He found himself out in the hall now with nothing to do. Damn it. Next time he would just clear the kitchen and do it himself. That was the problem. He lived here on the T’Evagduran family property. He didn’t own anything. As far as the menials were concerned he was little more than a beggar. He didn’t have a job—except perhaps to take care of Sarai and their child.

He thumped down on the couch in the conference circle, feet up on a hassock and arms folded. He hated feeling useless. All that was left for him now was to wait…

Chapter Nineteen
Knowledge and Intent

« ^ »

What do I think of the Kriar? They are ancient, and distant, and mysterious. Yet, I find some of them to be startlingly ‘human’ which I know they would feel is an insult. It’s hard to think too cruelly of a people that value children so highly…
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan

Slouched in the Sarai’s conference circle feet up on a hassock, Bannor was still fuming a half bell later when the doorman led Wren in. The blonde savant was alone. She had changed clothing and now wore a light blue blouse and black leggings. She’d braided back her hair, and wore a necklace and a few rings. He was still adjusting to seeing Wren’s feminine side. Almost all of his experiences with her had been as a desperate combatant coming up with clever ways to survive, whether by luck or just pure determination.

“Hey, Bannor,” she addressed him as she strolled in. “You don’t look happy, what’s wrong?”

He scowled. “The servants, they won’t let me do anything.”

“Oh.” She smiled and shook her head. “Get used to it.”

“Why?” He growled. “I’m not a damned invalid. I can put a little fruit in a bowl and serve it.”

“Of course you can,” she answered. “I had the same problem. Mother explained it to me this way. If we do it ourselves, then the people who get paid to do it don’t have a job.”

“That’s silly,” he grumbled. “Why pay somebody to do something you should do yourself?”

She studied the ceiling a moment obviously looking for an explanation. “Think of it like this. It’s a way to share the wealth.”

“Huh?”

“The servants live here don’t they?” Wren said gesturing to the hall. “They eat the same food you do. By giving them a function, however trivial, it feeds and clothes people that might not otherwise have a meaningful trade. My mother has family retainers that have served three or four generations. They see taking care of my parents as an honor and a privilege.”

“I can see it,” Bannor answered. “Your Mother and Father are very special people, humble, honorable, brave… Heroes really. They inspire others to excel by setting an example. I feel privileged to know them.”

Wren studied him with those intense blue eyes. She drew a breath and smiled. “That is such a nice thing to say.”

He rose. “It’s true. I can only imagine how I would have turned out with parents like that.”

Wren got a far away expression. “Me too.” She sighed and snapped out of it. “Where’s Sarai?”

“In the bath, she had the intense need to wash after you did that ‘charge’ thing.”

Wren sobered. “Oh. Well, Cassandra’s instructions were pretty explicit.”

He nodded. “Let’s go.” He led her back to their quarters. “Sarai?” He called ahead.

“Here,” Sarai answered.

They walked into the suite, Sarai had the balcony doors open and was leaning against the rail with the morning sun pouring down on her. Dressed in a thin bath robe, the orange light glistened on her damp skin, making her silvery hair seem as though on fire.

“Ah, Wren,” Sarai said.

“Is something wrong?” Bannor asked.

She turned and put her back to the rail. “I was just made a fool of in front of my parents. I’m still—stinging.” She let out a breath. She focused on the blonde savant. “Wren, this ‘charge’ thing, have you ever had it done to you?”

Bannor followed Wren as she walked out onto the balcony. She leaned against the rail and glanced back at Sarai. “Lots. More than I’d like. It’s used to keep someone going when they’d otherwise be too exhausted and hungry to move. In Gladshiem, we used Idun’s fruit the same way.”

“Tell me,” Sarai said in a speculative tone. “You know this Cassandra. Could she be simply exaggerating to take advantage of my parents?”

The blonde savant pressed her lips to a line. “I think she overstated the difficulty in helping you—the Felspars have access to magic that there just isn’t words to describe. She was serious as dragon-fire about you and the baby dying. She is totally into the mothers and babies thing, she has like eight kids of her own and takes care of a bunch more.”

Sarai tilted her head to one side. “Eight?”

Wren nodded. “It’s really complicated. I lived with them for a several seasons and I was just starting to get the whole who’s-related-to-whom thing straight. Anyways, she’s an expert on babies—especially special babies—trust me on that. There’s several immorts in the family so they know how to deal with this sort of thing.”

Sarai laced her fingers. “I see.” She focused at Bannor. “Do you trust Cassandra?”

Bannor leaned against the rail. “You mean is she trustworthy?”

She nodded.

He drew a breath. “Well, she has her own agendas, but I’ve never met a mage of any skill who didn’t…” He let his voice trail off.

“And?” Sarai prodded. “My One, I’ve learned to trust your judgments implicitly.”

“Well,” he frowned. “I am a little uncomfortable with her.”

“In what way? Does she have any malicious intent?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. How did he put it? “She’s intensely interested in us. She wants to, ummm, study us I guess. Well, us and Daena. So, she’s maneuvering to get as much chance to do that as possible.”

Sarai’s brow furrowed. “Study?” She narrowed glowing violet eyes and glanced at Wren. “So, what was all that blather about vacations?”

“To her that is a vacation,” Wren said. “Bannor’s right though. When we first met—she wanted to study me too.”

“Well, I’m not eager let myself or my child be her research subjects.”

“I wasn’t either,” Wren answered. She sniffed. “I didn’t get my way though. Of course, I wasn’t the princess of Malan… that gives you a bit more pull than I had.” She leaned close to Sarai. “With your mother being a mage though, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t get ordered to go along with it.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. “She wouldn’t…”

“Oh yes she would, your mother loves magic, and Cassandra has an endless supply of bribes and justification.” She put a hand on Sarai’s shoulder. “Just brace yourself for it.”

Sarai looked down at Wren’s hand. The way she did it drew attention to it. When she looked down into Wren’s eyes there was a question but she didn’t voice it.

Wren did. “Is there something wrong? You look ready to bite me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarai responded. “Maybe perhaps you’re enjoying my sudden dependence on you a little too much…”

Wren stared at Sarai for a moment and bit her lip. “Okay, it’s true, I am savoring it a bit. I don’t think you’d be any different.”

Sarai sniffed. “What about the part about how you made it feel?”

“Oh that.” Wren shrugged.

“Don’t shrug at me!” Sarai pounded her fist on the railing. “That was unconscionable! Especially in front of all those people!”

Wren held up her hands. “Sarai, believe me, I just did the charge straight… Errr, without any embellishments—I’m not even sure I know how to do that.”

Sarai folded her arms, voice dropping, tone incredulous. “Really?”

“Honest.”

She glanced at Bannor. He hated being a referee. He sighed. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Sarai, I would never disrespect you that way. I know what it feels like. I can try to teach Bannor, but it won’t happen overnight. You don’t want him doing it unless he has precise control and understanding of what’s going on. Cassandra knew I’d been through enough bad experiences with it that I would be extra careful.”

“Bad experiences?”

Wren nodded. “It can be used as a weapon.”

Sarai’s brow furrowed. “How is that?”

“By deliberately enhancing the sensations—they can be increased to the point it makes you pass out—or in my case, someone braces you so you can’t pass out and they… Well, let’s just say it’s made me very self-conscious about not doing it even accidentally to someone else.”

Sarai’s brow furrowed, her irritated expression changing. She leaned toward Wren, head tilting to one side. “It was really bad for you, I can…feel it.”

Wren nodded.

His fiancé let out a breath. “I guess I have to do it. So, let’s get it over with. Maybe if sit up it won’t be as bad.”

“Right here at the rail is good,” Wren said. “It won’t be as bad as that first time anyway.”

“You’re certain?”

“Positive,” Wren answered. “Just face the rail. I don’t know why, the people who do it say the small of the back is the best place.”

Sarai complied after a moment’s hesitation.

Wren stood behind her and pressed the heel of her palm against Sarai’s spine. “Ready?”

Sarai nodded.

Wren composed herself, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. The same glow shone through her closed eyelids and her skin turned golden. At the same moment Sarai rose up on her toes, sucking a breath.

This time Wren drew away after only a dozen heartbeats.

“Uhhm,” Sarai let out. She looked back at Wren, biting her lip. She was breathing hard. She just stared at her.

Wren shook her head. “Sorry.”

Bannor stared at his wife-to-be. Her threads were confusing. The clearest emotion she was feeling was frustration. Wren was embarrassed. He knew Sarai loved magic, she lived to feel it channeling through her body… It struck him then what the real outrage and questions were about… She wanted more.

“Are you all right, Star?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. It leaves me feeling quite strong.” She straightened up and rolled her shoulders. She turned her head and furrowed her brow. “Can you do that to yourself?”

Wren nodded. “There’s a lot of pitfalls. Used too often you build up a tolerance or worse—a dependence.”

“Addiction?” Sarai asked.

“Right. Still, amongst the Felspars, I understand they use it… ummm, recreationally.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she drew the word out. “I can imagine.”

“Is the feeling that strong?” he asked. “You both make it sound very—provocative.”

“Sexual, is what you meant to say,” Sarai said.

He frowned. “Uh.”

“It is not precisely that,” she continued. “It is disturbingly close to it however.”

Wren’s cheeks colored.

He decided it was best not to explore the ideas that suddenly occurred to him. He focused on what was most important. “What about the baby? Can it hurt her?”

“I don’t think so, especially since Cassandra didn’t really caution me.” Wren said becoming serious again. “I guess it’s just another form of nourishment. Most of the power is probably just getting wasted. Without special adaptations, human and elf bodies just don’t have much storage for magic.” She gestured to him. “Because we’re savants, you and I have more ‘space’ in our bodies for power, a kind of buffer so we don’t get flattened by using our nolas.”

“Okay, maybe this is a more practical question. If Sarai needs this ‘charge’ thing six times a day. How do we do that?”

“It’s only a day or so,” Wren said. She looked around the giant space. “You’ve probably got room for me somewhere in here. I think I can lose a few minutes of sleep for the guy who got me out of Hel.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Besides, if I didn’t volunteer, I might find Kalindinai standing over me with a switch.”

“It’s not funny,” Sarai growled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You think you have it bad,” Wren grinned. “Imagine being Daena when Kal asks her to nurse your baby.”

“I don’t like that either! This is our baby!” Sarai growled. “I don’t—” She lowered her voice. “I don’t want half the kingdom involved.”

Wren shrugged. “What did you expect? You got pregnant while you were immortalized—you did it on purpose. The father is the most powerful kind of savant there is and you’re a noble blood elf. Don’t tell me you didn’t anticipate problems.”

Sarai rubbed her forehead. “I guess I did. I—” She looked up at Bannor. “I apologize, my One.”

He sighed. “It’s not like we weren’t eventually going to have a child.” He stepped over and touched her cheek. “What’s done is done. I wish I understood what you were trying to accomplish when you did it. Did you want an immortal elf? An elven savant? Having these powers has its advantages, but the downside is being a target for everything with a weapon…”

“I’m with you there, Brother,” Wren said. “I was the daughter of a very powerful Baron and his even more powerful wife, and my childhood and that of my birth brother was turned inside out because we were savants.”

“Hecate is dead,” Sarai said in an obviously self-conscious tone. “It’s done now at any rate—there’s no going back.”

Bannor sighed. “I’m sorry, Star.”

She frowned at him. “What are you sorry about?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know—I feel—well… responsible. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“My One, it takes two to make a baby. I more than encouraged you.” She sighed. She looked to Wren. “Until we can come up with something better, I guess we can make arrangements to bring your things here.”

Wren nodded.

<Bannor?> A serene female thought impinged on his consciousness. As soft as the contact was it still startled him. He was used to the mindspeak only being between savants. Heart beating fast he clutched the rail. The strength and conciseness of the communication made it likely to be one of the elders, probably Dulcere because he suspected Senalloy’s thoughts would be more warm.

“Bannor?” Sarai asked. “Are you—?”

He held up a hand. He focused on responding. <Is this Dulcere?>

<It is,> she responded. <My apologies for startling you. Corim and I must keep the promise we made to Kalindinai and Sarai. We have some time now—will you be available?>

<One moment,> he thought to her.

<Of course.>

He drew a breath. “Lady Dulcere is mind speaking to me,” he said. “She says she and Corim can teach me now.”

“Go, my One,” Sarai said. “I’m fine.” She glanced at the blonde savant. “I think Wren has me in hand.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “If there’s any problems, Bannor, you’re just a thought away.”

He came and gave Sarai a kiss. She put a hand behind his neck and her skin tingled against his. She hugged him tight. “I’ll be okay, really. I feel much better now.”

Bannor pulled away and gave her hands a squeeze. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You better be, we have lunch with Mother, remember?”

He winced. “Right.”

Bannor closed his eyes and focused on the Kriar female. <Dulcere?>

<Yes, Bannor.>

<I’m ready. Where do I meet you?>

<In my quarters. One moment.>

<Where?>

With no warning, Bannor felt the air around him rush. In a flash, the surroundings of Sarai’s chambers and the balcony looking over Green Run were replaced by a smaller suite into which morning light was pouring.

Dressed in a white shift, Dulcere reclined on a bench in the middle of the shaft of illumination. The sun gleamed on her gold skin. Her long hair had been braided and looped so it hung down to the floor. She had her eyes closed and she looked to luxuriously relaxed. Apparently, the effort to bring him across that distance was so inconsequential she barely needed to focus.

<Bannor!?> Wren yelled in his mind.

<Ow!> He winced, reflexively grabbing his ears. Now he knew what Wren meant by screaming. <I’m okay! I’m okay! Dulcere just popped me over here with that teleport power of hers.>

<Oh,> Wren responded. <I’ll tell Sarai you’re already there then.>

<Apologies,> Dulcere told him. <I should have warned you. Thought I would save you a long walk.>

“My thanks,” he said, feeling cautious. She seemed so comfortable. The fact that with barely a thought she could find and affect him a thousand paces away reminded him of how truly powerful this creature was. His being alone with her was reminiscent of the time he was trapped with Hella. However Dulcere did not have nearly so daunting an aspect.

She swung a hand toward the bed, still not opening her eyes. <Please be comfortable. I am not usually this lazy. That pleasant workout, a hot bath, and this wonderful sun have me so relaxed. After cycles of being tortured, of constant violence and activity, it is so nice to be able to just soak up the quiet. You understand what I mean?>

He sat down on the bed and leaned forward. “Quite well, milady. I’ve had a battering experience or two myself.”

<I know you have,> Dulcere answered. <Let me take this moment to thank you again for your assistance at the way-point. I can only apologize for putting you at risk. It was not my intent.>

“Think nothing of it.”

<I appreciate your generosity in this matter.> She drew a breath and laced her fingers across her stomach. <Now, about your training.>

“What about Corim, isn’t he supposed to be here?”

<Corim will be available shortly. He is not necessary for the briefing.> She stretched on the bench, muscles rippling in her sleek body. He sure understood why she appealed to Corim. She put her arms behind her head and sighed. <So—the training,> she started. <It can be done in a few ways. I have an artifice with me which will suffice.> She pointed to a strange-looking black box sitting on her vanity. <My people call them cybers. That is a personal assistant cyber, typically we use it to gather information, communicate with others, and perform any of dozens of tasks. One of them being what we call ‘flash knowledge’ or ‘quick teach’. Officers such as myself who must conduct negotiations on foreign worlds sometimes use the facility to learn languages, local customs, and history.>

“And this will work for me?”

As he asked the question he heard the sound of elven pipes being played in the other room. The mellow rise and fall of the breathy instrument murmured through a familiar melody—the same one he needed to play for the wedding.

Dulcere tilted her head back toward the sound. She opened one ebony eye, the stars that winked in them apparent even in the bright sunlight. She sniffed and closed her eyes. <Fairly certain.> She sighed and moaned, wriggling on the bench. She made a humming sound.

“Lady Dulcere, are you all right?”

<Mmmm?> She responded. <I think it’s this sunlight. A friend on Homeworld told me there was a push to purchase land here on this continent because of the medicinal properties of the air and light. I’m—> She drew a deep tremulous breath. <I’m starting to understand—the—attraction.>

“On this learning thing, you said there were a few ways.”

<Yes,> Dulcere agreed. <The cyber assistant is one. The process involves interfacing with the unit. Since you don’t have a data-point.> She pointed a slender finger at the red jewel on her brow. <We have to use cerebral net. Data transfer is slowed so it will take a quarter day to transfer a basic skill, and probably half to a better part of day to learn an entire language and idiom set.>

“Idiom set?”

<Yes, turns of phrase like ‘I have bigger dragons to broil’ which means I have more important things to do.>

“Oh.” Bannor responded. “So, what are these other ways?”

<Another way is to get a full scale medical cyber to do an information implant. It’s very fast, you go to sleep and wake up with the knowledge. It has the disadvantage that there is some pain associated with the process, and you have to be taken to where a medical cyber is available. The interesting thing was that in doing a query for the nearest available medical cybers, there is one listed as being here in Malan, owned by a ‘Bronawyn Shadowstalker’. She’s a member of house Felspar, a family with some reputation on Homeworld.>

“It seems that Cassandra has everything.”

<Indeed,> Dulcere responded. <This cyber is actually beyond the ordinary, she’s what we call an elite class cyber; the highest form of self aware synthetic organism.>

“A living machine?”

<Most Kriar artifices have some level of ‘aliveness’. Because medical personnel often need a certain amount of empathy and understanding of organics (people such as myself and yourself) it was necessary to imbue in them a level of self-awareness and ego. Anyways, they are exceedingly good at what they do. In all likelihood, Lady Shadowstalker can probably be persuaded to allow us to talk to her healer. A fellow Kriar officer named Eclipse works for her in house Felspar.>

Bannor ran a hand through his hair. “Eclipse? The same Eclipse I felt that Quasar had been separated from?”

<Yes. There’s a complicated story behind it. Eclipse is there in house Felspar mostly to protect certain members from Quasar. At least, that’s my understanding. I didn’t realize the Felspars were here until I felt Cassandra warp earlier this morning and got curious.>

“She came to help Sarai,” Bannor said. “There were problems with her baby this morning. In fact, there might be something you can do to help.”

<Problems with her baby?> That revelation seemed to energize Dulcere enough to sit up. Turning on the bench to face him, she brushed back her hair. <What is wrong?>

He fidgeted a bit under those intense dark eyes. “To put it simply, Sarai doesn’t have the body energy needed to nourish the baby.”

Dulcere frowned. <I am sorry to hear that. How can I help?>

“Well, apparently Cassandra can make some kind of artifice like your stones,” he pointed to the jewel glowing softly against the skin below Dulcere’s collarbone. “That can sustain the baby. Until then, Sarai needs regular doses of something called ‘biophase’ to maintain herself and the baby. Our friend Wren can do it but it’s—ummm, inconvenient and uncomfortable. Wren says I can do it too, I just need to learn how. Could your artifice teach me how to do that?”

<Teach energy manipulation, and do it through the natural mechanisms inherent in your abilities…> She stroked her throat and studied the ceiling. <I am uncertain. Please understand, I am not a technical person except in regards to the operation of equipment necessary to carry out my duties. I cannot see anything that could prevent it from being possible. I do think you would need a higher order cyber to accomplish it. Whatever did the teaching would have to interact with your existing knowledge and then tailor the data so that it was in a context useful to you. Does that make sense?>

“Yes, I think it does.” He heard the pipes now playing another tune. The sonorous sounds were played with an exquisite ability and fluidity. His brow furrowed. “Is Corim doing that?”

<Yes,> Dulcere said. <Practicing I imagine. I guess learning a skill to such levels in so short a time seems rather impressive. On Homeworld, we frown on the use of too much quick-teach. It’s considered ‘cheating’ as it degrades a person’s natural learning processes.>

“Patience is a virtue?”

Dulcere smiled. <The idiom captures the sentiment quite well.>

“Another question. You spoke about learning a language. Does that include reading and writing?”

<Of course.> She smiled. <Something I suspect would be of great value to you.>

“Yes. So, are these artifices the only way you can teach me?”

<There’s telepathy and the traditional lecture, reading, and exercise,> Dulcere responded. <I’d recommend getting the quick teach to learn reading though, in your language and Sarai’s. A great deal of understanding comes with learning a language, so much culture and thinking is involved in personal communication. In your situation, I would think it essential especially considering how important nuances can be in politics.>

He let out a breath knowing the correctness of that statement. He didn’t like the idea of being magicked by one of those alien artifices though. Sarai was worth a little discomfort though. Maybe just one jolt of discomfort and get it over with. Then he could focus on other things.

“Let’s say I just wanted to just get it done; the whole wedding ceremony, the two languages, and the energy training. Could that all be done at once?”

Dulcere’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips together. <Certainly, but it would be very uncomfortable.>

“I had Daena’s whole language crammed into my head with telepathy. I still hurt just remembering it. For Sarai, I’d do that again. We have a lot riding on my ability to satisfy Malan, my wife to be, helping with the Baronian thing… I need to catch up. I need that extra edge so I can do that. I’m uncomfortable with it—but I think it needs to be done.”

<You seem certain,> Dulcere said with a nod. <This is a little more than I intended, so I will have to make special arrangements. I do not think I would be ready until after your noon bell.>

“That’s all right, Sarai and I have to meet with the King and Queen for lunch.”

<Very well then. I will make preparations immediately.>

“So, did I miss anything?” Corim asked stepping into the room. He had a set of gold elven pipes in his hand. “I got involved in playing around and forgot Dulcere could just warp you here.”

<I believe everything has been decided,> Dulcere said. <Bannor is going to get it all done at once, two languages, the wedding ceremony, and some special teaching regarding energy manipulation.>

Corim leaned back and winced. He rubbed his temple self-consciously. “All at once? Friend, that’s going to hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” Bannor answered. “I’ve been hurt before…”

Chapter Twenty
Royal Lunch

« ^ »

I have come to accept there are elves who will hate humans simply for being different. It is their right and privilege to have their own minds. I hardly see Sarai’s “differences” it is the whole person that I love. I hope it is the same for her…
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan

In a flare of light, a tangle of universal threads and a rush of air Bannor was standing back on the balcony where he’d been standing only a short time before. Wren and Sarai were no longer there. Bannor took a moment to lean on the railing and soak up the scene of Green Run. The carpet of trees, the water and animals, it was all a breath of serenity. He would have to choose his moments of peace. He sensed there wouldn’t be much in the future. There had been lots of talking, lots of easily solved problems, that meant pain would be lurking on the road ahead. Best to brace for it now.

He turned back to their chambers listening for the sound of Wren and Sarai’s voices. The large octagon shaped room with the huge hearth at the center lay empty. The bath chamber door was open and no sounds emanated from the stone-worked interior. The bed, dressing alcoves, and closet were all empty as well.

Out in the hall, he heard voices in the main chambers and headed that way. He found Wren and Sarai in the conference circle apparently chatting about something. They stopped though as he entered. Sarai had dressed since and now wore her court robes with the silver chasing. She’d braided her hair back and pinned it with combs.

“My One, that was fast,” Sarai said with a smile. She glanced to the entry door and her brow furrowed. “Do you suppose that popping around is going to become commonplace?”

He shrugged. “It took me by surprise as much as you.”

“So,” she asked. “What happened?”

Bannor rubbed the back of his head. “Nothing. We just talked.” He sighed and shook his head.

She tilted her head, violet eyes searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, when I was there, Corim had already learned the pipe song for the ceremony. Not that I’m any expert, it sounded good.”

“Why the sigh over that?” Sarai said.

“Because nothing is ever easy for me,” he answered walking over to join them. “If it’s that easy for him, I just know somehow I’m going to get ripped up.”

“You know, you are due for a luck change,” Wren said with a grin.

“Has yours?”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Good point.”

“So,” Sarai prompted. “What about the lessons?”

“This afternoon,” he said, sitting down beside her. “After our meeting with your parents.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Are you feeling better?”

Sarai put her hand on top of his and rubbed his knuckles. “Wren gave me that third charge and now I feel great. We were just discussing the wedding and Cassandra’s request for an invitation. That was something of a surprise.”

“Why?” Bannor wondered. “This is the first marriage in your family for decades. The party will be huge—at least that’s the gossip I’ve heard. I have no idea myself, I can’t really grasp what’s been planned.”

“I suppose…” Sarai said, voice trailing off.

Wren shook her head. “I told Sarai the same. Cassandra said they were on vacation. So, the wine request and joining in on a big party make sense to me. They’re ready to relax. Their family has fought a lot recently, largely on my account.”

“Your account?” Bannor repeated.

“Yes,” Wren answered with a nod. “See, about eight summers ago I was like you. I didn’t know I was a savant. I was just a Brethren guilder in Corwin doing guilder things. Then Hethanon and his Cult of the Dagger, tore into our guild and killed nearly everyone. I barely escaped. Hethanon was looking for our guild-mistress Desiray Illkaren-Felspar, known in Ivaneth as Whitelock.”

“Whitelock?” Sarai asked. “The crime-lord Whitelock?”

Wren nodded. “She is also a member of the Band of the Crescent Moon. Anyways, I went hunting for Desiray and got a Sovereign of Isis to teleport me to Ivaneth where I had heard she had last been seen.”

“It’s her guild in Corwin, and you couldn’t find her?”

Wren held up her hand. “Trust me, I was pretty hacked about it myself. The guild got slaughtered while her delegates made a mess of things. Meanwhile, she was off partying somewhere.” She made a growling sound. “Anyways, I went to Ivaneth to speak to the high wizard there, who we had heard could contact Desiray.”

“King Edmund’s high wizard?” Bannor said. “Even I’ve heard of him.”

“Him.” Wren sniffed. “Right. That gold lady you just met—Cassandra. She is the high wizard of Ivaneth. I learned the truth of that hard way. Seems several mages have been the ‘high wizard’ they all use shape-shifting to maintain the façade of a man who’s been retired for four decades and dead for two. Anyways, I found it next to impossible to get to see the ‘wizard’… so I—”

“Snuck in?” Sarai prompted.

Wren shot her a look. “Entered covertly. I didn’t find the wizard, I found Cassandra. From there, things got complicated. In telling Desiray about the raid on our guild, Cassandra recognized the leader as avatar Hethanon of Set. Apparently, she and Set have some history. So, she wanted to get involved and help kill Hethanon. She bullied me into testing a new weapon against him, an Istar-wand named Corona. The fight did not go well, we beat him but I ended up poisoned and crippled. So, since there was no more guild, they sent me to house Felspar to recuperate. While I stayed with them I learned about my being a savant.

“It was during that time I had the unfortunate occasion to meet Avatar Mishaka. That fight didn’t go well either. She slaughtered an entire Ishtarian congregation and killed my—” She took a breath. “My best friend. The experience really took me apart. The Felspars took care of me—I probably would have died on my own. It was from Mishaka that I found out that she had been keeping my birth parents captive. When I finally got better, the only thing on my mind was getting my parents back. The whole thing turned into a war. We fought ten of Hecate’s avatars. The Felspar citadel was over-run and we were forced to evacuate. Eventually, I did find my parents, and confronted Mishaka, Hethanon, and Hecate herself. Mishaka, I put an end to. Hethanon was dispersed and Hecate run off.”

Sarai stared at Wren with wide eyes. “I had no idea. That’s why Hecate hated you so much?”

Wren ran a hand through her hair. “It actually went a bit deeper than that, it was the root of it though.”

“Wait,” Bannor said. “You ran Hecate off. You confronted Hecate at her full power. How? Even when,” he glanced at Sarai. “Even when she’d limited herself, it took everything I had. She beat the tar out of you that night.”

Wren frowned. “When I confronted Hecate, I had done a magical combining with my mother and Ziedra. At the end of the battle, I had merged with an immortal body which made me a lot like Daena is now. It allowed me to take control of and use Starholme Prime, the central power source for savants. I can’t really describe what that’s like, but one pantheon lord,” She shook her head. “I could have smashed her if it wouldn’t have killed everyone I was trying to protect. I had to satisfy myself with forcing her to promise to leave my family alone. As you know, that truce didn’t last long.”

Sarai was staring at Wren. She didn’t bother to ask Bannor if the blonde savant was telling the truth. Wren didn’t make up stories like that. It was the kind of story he told. He had killed Hecate and confronted Odin, two other gods had been nearly killed as a result of his actions. Wren’s story was not nearly so far-fetched with those things in perspective.

His fiancé rose and went over to the couch opposite and sat next to Wren. She put a hand on her shoulder. “Wren, I apologize.”

The blue-eyed savant frowned. “What for?”

“I have thought some terrible things about you. I knew you and Hecate had history, and that some of it was personal. I never realized how truly egregious it was. I remember how shocked you were, when my sister claimed to have met you—you had mentioned that it had been a person posing as you. Back then, I didn’t believe—not really. We’ve been through a lot and I know you better now.”

“It’s okay,” Wren said, patting Sarai’s shoulder. “I know how crazy it all must have sounded. I guess it takes having some of the craziness happening to you to finally believe such wild stories.”

“There is something I don’t understand,” Bannor said. “If that happened eight summers ago, the Felspars are still out of sorts?”

“Well, the big fight with Hecate was about five summers ago. See in the conflict, Loric stole Hecate’s entire treasury from the temple in Stonewood Kingdom. I made Hecate promise to leave my family alone, not the Felspars. Because of other incidents, Hecate also declared war on the Frielos family. So, the two families have been butting heads with her all along up until you put an end to her.”

“That explains Thanos knowing something about me,” Bannor said.

Wren snapped her fingers, her face brightening with sudden enthusiasm. “Oh wow, how could I have forgotten!? Aarlen was offering a bounty on Hecate’s followers and avatars. You should collect on that!”

“A bounty?”

“You bet!” Wren said. “Aarlen offered a hundred thousand gold talons for slaying any avatar of Hecate. Killing Hecate herself has got to be worth at least that!”

“A hundred th-thousand?” Bannor stammered with wide eyes. “You could buy a city with that!”

Wren smiled. “Or the clothes in Sarai’s closet.”

Sarai looked at Wren sidelong.

“Aarlen never mentioned anything…” Bannor said.

“Being more nice doesn’t mean she’s more generous. You’d have to claim the bounty. It doesn’t cost anything to try. What’s the worst that can happen?” She shrugged. “Aarlen may need you for the investigation, so she’s going to think favorably to paying. You took a lot off her head by getting rid of that witch Hecate.”

“That would be huge. I wouldn’t be poor.” Bannor said in wonderment. “How come you never mentioned it before?”

“You jest? I’ve been trying to forget the whole unfortunate adventure. Remember, me—jail cell—Hella…” Her voice dropped. “Torture…”

“Ah, right. Stupid of me, I’m sorry.”

“My one, I would take what she says very seriously and pursue it if true. You having money of your own would do a lot to ease tension among the nobility, especially if you purchase a title.”

He frowned at her. “Purchase a title? I didn’t think elves did such things!”

She drew a breath. “Politics, Bannor, they are the same, human or elf. We are just less bloody about it.”

“Sir Starfist,” Wren said with a smile. “Has a nice ring to it.” She shrugged. “Anyone who knows you, knows you have more than enough tenacity to be a knight. Laramis knows Lord Terrantil, I bet he’d vouchsafe for a Justicar title provided you tithed the proper amount.”

“A Justicar,” Bannor shook his head. “You’re funny. I can’t even read… the… warrants.”

Wren tilted her head. “Aren’t you going to fix that?”

“Well, I’ll worry about it if Aarlen wants to pay. I can’t even imagine that kind of money. My stipend for the Tenax rangers was fifty gold a score-day. By the standards of my mountain neighbors I was well-to-do, but any time I came into a big city I realized what a pittance it was. Fifty barely covered getting a decent sword.”

Matronly Psendra entered from the back hall dark skirts rustling as she glided over the stone floor. She stopped by Sarai’s elbow and leaned down and spoke in rapid Elvish. She glanced at Bannor, cleared her throat and added something else.

The best he could capture from it was something about mid-day supper and something about him.

The elf lady bowed and turned with a whirl of skirts and glided out.

Bannor growled as he watched her go. “What have I ever done to offend that woman?”

Sarai grinned. “You seduced me, you wicked wicked man.” She leaned forward and smacked his knee with a laugh. “You turned the little blushing girl she helped raise into the father-defying monster I am today.”

He shook his head. “Riiight.”

“It’s the shoulders,” Wren said. “That’s what the court ladies titter. She likes men with broad—”

Sarai shoved against Wren. “You will not repeat that crass jest.” She sobered almost instantly. “Mother wants us at supper in a half bell. You have to dress nice. There’s an unexpected guest—uncle Bertrand.”

Bannor raised an eyebrow. “Oh this is going to be—fun. Interesting timing, considering what we saw this morning.”

“What did you see?” Wren asked.

“My uncle was doing something suspicious is all,” Sarai said with a hard stare at Bannor. “Nothing that would point to any allegations however.”

“What do you suspect?”

“Truly, just a sense that Bannor might be correct in connecting Bertrand to that shapeshifting assassin.”

Wren’s eyes grew wide. “Your own uncle? That’s, ummm, pretty major.”

“It’s high treason,” Sarai responded, her expression hardening. “He is very staunch in his beliefs however. He feels a human in the T’Evagduran bloodline would pollute us.” She shook her head. “I would not have thought him zealous enough to act against us, but people you think you know do surprising things.”

Wren nodded. “I’m sorry, Sarai. That’s heavy.”

Sarai pressed her lips to a line. “Be careful. No matter who is behind the plot, they may already be searching for a scapegoat to steer suspicion away. You and all our outsider friends are likely targets.”

Wren rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I’ll make sure everyone is really careful about who they deal with.” She sighed. “Sounds like I best let you two get ready. I’ll see you tonight.” She hopped up and looked between them. “Both of you watch yourselves too.” She stepped over to Bannor and thumped him on the shoulder. “Especially you, Mister Trouble Attractor.”

He nodded to her, knowing the truth of those words.

They watched her go for a moment before Sarai pulled him back toward their chambers. Dressing for formal was always a chore for him. Color, style, and fabric were all significant in the ‘statement’ one made. Though Sarai didn’t much like politics, this part she seemed to go along with even though it seemed even more frivolous than the rest. Early on he’d been made to stand for bells while several coats, shirts, and pants had been tailored for him. He hated being fussed over. At least the clothing was comfortable… even if he still couldn’t quite fathom which clothes to use for what occasion.

“Red pants,” Sarai said as he closed the chamber doors behind them. “The white frill pullover, and the black jacket.”

“Red?” Bannor said, thumbing through the small portion of the closet that belonged to him. He pulled out the pants and threw them over his arm and started probing for the shirt she requested. “You never have me wear the red.”

“Uncle Bertrand will be there, and… well… never mind… it will take too long to explain.”

He nodded, laying out the pants and shirt and removing his current clothing. Pulling up the bright red trousers and tying them he wondered what kind of signal this sent. Was it some sort of aggressive color perhaps? He slipped into the shirt, tucked in the tails and pulled at the shoulders. He did have to appreciate the smooth feel of silk and the shiny gloss of it as it reflected the light shining in from the balcony. Sarai held up his coat and he aimed an arm at a sleeve and shrugged into it as she assisted him.

She buttoned the jacket for him, brushing the shoulders and tugging at the sleeves. In this, as with many things that she did, Sarai was meticulous in each detail, tracing each crease and fold for proper appearance.

He grinned at her. “What other fellow is lucky enough to be dressed by a princess?”

She smiled back at him, glowing violet eyes meeting his. She reached up behind his neck and gave him a kiss. “Every once in a while, you’re worth it.” Sarai grabbed a comb off her vanity and smoothed his hair. She fussed a bit more, leaning side to side and flicking strands until satisfied. “Let’s go.”

They paused at the entrance long enough for him to put on some polished dress boots before the elderly hall-man let them out. As they headed toward the citadel proper, hard books clicking in the enclosed stone space Bannor felt a queasiness in his stomach. Why was Bertrand going to be at this lunch?

“What do you think is going to happen at this get together?”

They turned and proceeded up a curving stone staircase that opened into a tunnel, bright morning light lit up the further end.

Sarai shook her head. “I don’t know, my One. I’m fairly sure of one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Mother won’t be yelling at us about the baby in front of him.”

“That’s something I suppose.” He squinted as they stepped into the bright light of morning. He put his arm around Sarai, looking down off the slender bridge as they crossed out of Green Run’s main hall toward the Kul’Amaron’s outer bastion.

They clicked along in silence, neither saying anything as a balmy before-noon breeze fingered them gently.

Bannor broke the silence. “Star, I’d been meaning to ask. About these new people…”

“Don’t worry, Bannor,” Sarai said. “I find them all fascinating, including Lady Senalloy.”

“Senalloy,” Bannor repeated. “That reminds me, where was she this morning? She should have been looking after you.”

“She was with Mother, Father, and Ryelle,” Sarai answered. “She couldn’t very well leave her swearing to T’Evagduran. You were with me.” She pulled him tighter against her.

“Well, that better be the last time. She didn’t even come to look in on you,” he said with a growl.

“Actually, Bannor, I suspect she knows her job better than you think. A good guard isn’t visible except when intimidation and power are called for. To be truthful—” She paused.

He leaned down. “Yes.”

She drew her breath. “I do feel her watching me from time to time. It’s quite odd.”

“Like she’s following you around?”

She shook her head. “Just a presence like a part of her is with me. I get the impression that if I ever called for her, she would come.”

“She didn’t mention that,” Bannor said. “She’s definitely powerful enough to do that.”

“What do you base that on, Bannor? I know you have miraculous senses. I can feel her power. I haven’t seen her do anything.”

He frowned. “I saw her fight. She could easily take on a dozen Bloodguard. Her magick is something else again… Trust me, if you get in trouble—call her.”

Sarai nodded.

They stopped at the outer bastion gate. The two steely-eyed elf guards looked them over for perhaps a heartbeat before bowing to their mistress and allowing the two of them through the portico. Inside the citadel yard, Sarai picked up the pace, heading down the cobbled path with purpose. Crossing through a latticework garden, they climbed the magically shaped roots of one of the ancient grove-oaks that stood sentinel around the giant structure.

In the entrance, two more guards in griffin livery bowed to Sarai and pulled open the giant wooden valves for them.

A willowy elf woman dressed in all black with stunning cascade of green hair bowed as they stepped into a corner hall. She had shiny nut brown skin much like the wood elves did.

“Arminwen,” the lady greeted, bowing again.

“Jacullan,” Sarai said.

The green-haired elf glanced at Bannor with deep amber eyes. She focused again on Sarai. “Matradomma awaits you in the blue room,” she said in clear common, obviously coached so he could understand.

“Thank you,” Sarai answered. She picked a direction down the corridor, pulling Bannor along.

Bannor glanced back at Jacullan. “I don’t think I’ve seen her before. I’m certain I would have remembered…”

Sarai laughed. “The bright green hair? It happens when elf and dryad bloodlines mix. She’s been in the south with her family this last season.”

A few hundred steps, several guard postings, and few turns had them standing at the corner out of sight of the entrance to the blue room. No less than six guards, three to a side were stationed at the opening.

Bannor glanced back. “Whoa, security is still tight.”

Sarai nodded. “That assassin might have accomplices.” She drew a breath. “Now, before we go in, whatever you do—don’t let uncle Bertrand make you angry. Don’t raise your voice. All right?”

He sighed remembering wanting to strangle the elf lord in their last encounter. “I recall from the last time. I still don’t know why he can be so discourteous and get away with it.”

“His sister is the Queen of Malan, that’s why,” Sarai answered. “Mother and Father can’t defend you all the time—you have to be able to defend yourself.”

“How do I do that if I can’t talk back? He only speaks common to insult me.”

“Just roll with it, my One. You’ve survived a thousand times worse.”

He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

Like he was wading into a gale, Bannor leaned into the ordeal to come. They stepped around the corner and into the hard stares of the guards. After both of them were subjected to a weapons and magic search that had Sarai wide-eyed, they were each lead in by a steward.

The circular chamber had a domed ceiling painted to resemble a cloud-studded summer afternoon sky. A single large skylight allowed sunlight to stream into the chamber, lighting up the many furnishings as well as the plants and water-topiaries built into the tiered structure.

Having never been in this chamber before Bannor took a moment to admire the artistry; the wood carving, stone masonry, and plant husbandry that went into making this place so inspiring. One could easily imagine being outdoors in an overgrown rocky clearing with streamlets coursing through the area. At the bottom of the chamber a large boulder had been sheared in half to create a table surface. Smaller boulders had been cut to create benches down the length of the stone table. It was unique, as were many of the things Bannor had seen in Malan. Dressed in matching gray and green, the King and Queen sat beside each other at the head of the table. Bertrand, dressed in deep indigo with gold chasing, sat at Kalindinai’s elbow, his long dark hair pulled into a tail.

The stewards walked them to the side of the table opposite Bertrand and introduced them both formally. Both he and Sarai bowed.

Bannor felt Bertrand’s gaze on him, like a pair of hot coals. He noticed the Queen had her head tilted cheek on fist, her amber eyes studying him. She seemed amused for some reason. He guessed it had something to do with the way Sarai had him dress.

“Be welcome,” King Jhaan said to them in his vibrant voice. The elf lord’s voice no longer had that tone of restrained contempt that it once had. Over the course of the season, he and Bannor had come to an understanding and a certain amount of respect.

“Dom’ista, Matradomma,” Bannor bowed to them. “I am honored.” He turned to Bertrand. “Lord Valharesh.” He bowed again.

“Please.” The King gestured them to the bench.

Bertrand frowned at Bannor the whole time as he held a hand to Sarai and seated the princess at her father’s elbow, then settled himself on the bench next to her.

“I see your illness is better,” Kalindinai said to Sarai with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded. “Much improved, Mother, thank you.”

“You were ill, Niece?” Bertrand asked in his icy smooth voice. Surprising to Bannor, was that he spoke in common and not in Elvish.

“Only a trace of stomach murmurs, Uncle. Nothing to be concerned with. Mother sent some medicine that cleared it up.”

“I see.” Bertrand responded. He took a cloth napkin from a steward that bowed next to him and placed it across his leg. Maids came and offered the same for himself and Sarai, and the King and Queen. Cups of what looked like wine were placed at everyone’s elbow, and plates of various kinds of fruit were set down in front of them.

King Jhaan took a large red crunchfruit from the plate in front of him. Gathering up a knife, he began pealing the skin in a single long spiral cut. He spoke and worked the knife at the same time, his eyes never glancing down to the fruit, instead focusing on Bertrand. “So, Brother, you never mentioned your business today.”

Bertrand’s gaze followed the knife on the fruit, and the deft way that Jhaan worked it. “Milord, need it be business to come visit my sister?”

The King smiled. “Of course not.” He continued skinning the fruit, glancing at Bannor and then Sarai as he did so. “And how is your wife Bekiria? We haven’t seen her in court in a few tendays.”

Bertrand frowned for a moment. “Beki has been ill of late, so I’ve kept her at home.”

“We’re sorry to hear that,” Jhaan responded, brow furrowed. He placed the long peel on a plate, cut a section from the fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “Can we be of service? I can have the court physician tend her.”

“Pay it no mind, Milord,” Bertrand said. “Thanks for your offer but I’m certain she is through the worst of it already.” He tilted his head, eyes going dark for a moment. He seemed to be nerving himself. He looked to Kalindinai who was picking dark purple fruits from a cluster, washing them in a finger bowl and eating them in slow juicy bites.

The Queen’s violet eyes met his and she raised an eyebrow. “Brother?”

“Kal—” He paused. “I heard there was a disturbance yesterday.”

Kalindinai paused with a plump berry almost to her lips. She continued to pop it in her mouth and smiled. “Is that so? Pray, Brother, what did you hear?”

Bertrand glanced at Bannor. Why he chose that moment to look at him, he found interesting. He picked up his knife and cut a piece of sweet melon. He offered it to Sarai, who took it from him, he cut another piece and sucked on the sweet juice watching the elf lord. Under the table he felt Sarai squeeze his hand briefly.

“We heard that you had caught a spy,” Bertrand said after a pause.

Kalindinai glanced at her husband. Jhaann’s brow furrowed. From their expressions, they looked lost. It was a marvelous job of acting.

She shook her head. “Brother, I know naught of what you speak.”

The dark-haired lord looked as though he had eaten something sour. “Sister, I’m concerned.”

“Concerned?” Kalindinai swished the wine around in her cup, accepting a plate of cheese from a steward and setting it at her elbow. “What for Brother?”

“There were rumors…” Bertrand said.

“Of?” she prompted.

Bertram took a big hit from his cup. Obviously, this meeting was exploratory to discover what the King and Queen knew. He probably hadn’t expected to be completely stonewalled.

“I heard a rumor that some of the Griffin Elite were leaking information,” Bannor said.

Bertrand twitched.

The Queen raised her chin, violet eyes on Bannor. “Did you?”

He nodded. “I must say it concerned me as well.”

Jhaan chopped through his crunchfruit, the blade clinking against the plate. “Troubling thought. How much merit in it is there?”

“I credit the source fairly well,” Bannor said, glancing at Sarai.

“Yes, Father,” Sarai said, picking up from him. “I have reason to believe members of the nobility may be coercing some of the guard captains.” She glanced at Bertrand.

The elf lord was studying his plate at the moment.

“Brother,” Kalindinai said. “What do you think of that?”

Bertrand drew a breath and looked up. “Rubbish,” he said. “That’s treason. No one would have the audacity to insult our family so.”

“Morgeer,” Bannor said.

Bertrand barely turned a hair. He stared hard at Bannor. “Pardon?” His threads told a different story. A flare of agitation and fear.

“I said, ‘more beer’,” Bannor responded. “There’s not enough beer served in Malan.”

Kalindinai stared daggers at Bannor. The King frowned at him.

“Beer,” Bertrand coughed. “Lowborn piss water. Not surprising that you would favor it.”

“I recently heard there are some rather interesting beers made in Silissia,” Sarai said. “I’d always thought the only notable things to come out of that forsaken place were killers and assassins.” She paused. “Uncle, didn’t you travel to Silissia recently?”

“Silissia?” His brow furrowed. “What foolishness, Niece, I haven’t stepped foot out of Malan in over a decade.”

“Uncle, it was my understanding that aunt Beki is quite an accomplished mage,”

“You know she is,” Bertrand responded. “Not as good as your mother of course, but well versed in the arts.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarai said, sipping from her cup. “It’s just that I heard in court that aunt Beki was down with yellow-eye. An illness quite common in southern Silissia—I just assumed that she’d teleported the two of you there for holiday.”

“You know the court ladies gossip for the sake of making trouble,” Bertrand said in an off-hand tone. “I assure you her malady is none such.”

“Rumors are interesting things,” Kalindinai said between bites of cheese. “I had heard she was ill with summoning sickness.”

Bertrand almost choked. He stared at Kalindinai. “Where did you hear that?”

“Brother, you would be surprised at the strange things that get said and the odd persons that say them.”

He sniffed. “Aye.”

“I am interested in this issue of espionage in the citadel. Honest guards being coerced into divulging privileged information.” The King focused amber eyes on him. “Bannor, can you name names, provide evidence?”

Bertrand’s eyes narrowed. Bannor felt the elf lord’s attention. He drew a breath. Let him sweat a moment. “Dom’ista, you are aware that I have some special senses?”

“Indeed,” the King granted. “I have born witness to your prescience on several occasions.”

“Sometimes seeing a thing—knowing a thing—” He paused, sparing a glance at Kalindinai. “Is not enough. Your daughter taught me that.”

The Queen made a wry smile. “Which one?” She raised an eyebrow, peering at Sarai. “It wasn’t this one.”

The princess frowned at her mother.

“I for one care not what abilities he has,” Bertrand says. “He has not the sense to use them, and would not know a spy if he saw one.”

Bannor turned his gaze on Bertrand. “I am such a burdensome lack-wit. I don’t understand how anyone tolerates me. I should have slit my wrists and put myself out of everyone’s misery long ago.” He stared at the elf lord. He had kept his promise and not raised his voice.

Lord Valharesh snorted and took a slow sip of his drink. “A poor and boorish attempt at sarcasm.” He glanced at Kalindinai and made a dismissing wave at Bannor. “As he says, I don’t understand why you tolerate him.”

“Brother,” Kalindinai said, slicing off a hunk of cheese and nibbling at it. “Not all jewels sparkle when you first dig them up. It takes a skilled eye to look beyond the surface and see the potential within.”

Bertrand harrumphed. “Sister, sometimes it is the brightest jewel that has the least worth.”

Sarai frowned at her uncle. “And sometimes a dirt clod is still a dirt clod, no matter how you dress it up.”

Lord Valharesh looked to her. “Yes, Niece, just so…”

Chapter Twenty-One
Meet the Healer

« ^ »

Eternals, gods, demons, avatars, great elders, heroes and heroines; I’ve brushed death so many times that a creature’s potential for harm hardly scares me anymore. Now healers on the other hand, pointy proby sticks, foul tasting potions… keep them bloody away!
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan

Bannor left the meal with a queasy stomach despite the lightness of the meal. There had been some veiled remarks aimed at Sarai and himself, but it was clear that any real scolding would take place at another time and locale. It was clear that Kalindinai had some inkling of what the two of them had been hinting at. Bannor was surprised that the Queen would so easily suspect her own brother.

While he had a queasy stomach, it was Sarai who was fuming as they walked down the corridor back toward Green Run. “Pompous son of sylph, I wanted to slap that superior look off his face.”

He rubbed her shoulders. “Easy, Star, they’re just words.” He gave her a hug from behind.

Sarai rocked her head back against him. “Small-minded, low-browed, long-haired peacock. I sooo wanted to pluck off his plumage.”

He kissed her on the neck. “I love it when you defend me. Crass boor that I am.”

“Well, it hurts me when that lizard runs you down,” she said.

“He was scared.”

“He was?”

“Oh yes, he almost jumped out of his skin when I said ‘morgeer’.”

“Carellion, I didn’t see him react at all.”

“He’s well trained. His threads told a different tale I assure you. If he’s not responsible for the morgeer, he knows something about it.” He gave her another squeeze and pulled her along with him. “We need to keep an eye on him.”

“How do we do that?” Sarai asked. “He’s one of the highest nobles in Malan. He has a battalion of guards, nearly as much security as Mother and Father.”

“Star, please, one thing I’ve come to accept. When it comes to our friends, where there’s a will—there’s a way. Lady Senalloy can apparently watch you anywhere… how does she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

He leaned close to her. “You know what? Another thing I’m finally coming to accept. We don’t need to know. We are all friends and family—we take care of one another. Wren is staying over tonight because she cares about you. It’s important to us, they’ll help us find a way.”

Wearing a solemn expression, Sarai nodded.

They exited the main citadel and started down the walk to the portico leading to Green Run. Corim Vale was sitting on one of the benches along the walk, legs folded up and book in his lap. As they approached he brushed back his long hair and looked up. “Friend Bannor, Arminwen Sarai.” He closed the book, rose and bowed to her.

“Corim,” Bannor acknowledged. “Need us for something?”

“Just you friend,” Corim responded with a grin. “Perfect pipes, remember?”

Bannor rubbed his head. “Oh, right.”

“Is it all right if I come along?” Sarai asked.

“More than,” the broad shouldered man answered. “He’s going to need your shoulder to cry on. He set quite an ordeal for himself.”

“Ordeal?”

“Don’t worry, Star,” he said. He gestured ahead. “Lead on.”

The burly warrior put the book under his arm and headed toward a different portico.

“So, Master Vale,” Sarai asked. “How is it you knew where we’d come out of Kul’Amaron?”

“Arminwen, the Shaladen given to me by the eternals is a wondrous tool. Tracking people and gathering information is one of its primary functions.”

Bannor looked over at Sarai and wiggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes.

They followed Corim out the north portico and across the long curving bridge that arched across the churning waters of the Kymer River that wound its way around Green Run.

Seeing that they were heading toward the citadel grounds north gate, Sarai picked up the pace to catch up with Corim’s long strides. “Master Vale, I can’t go out into the city without my guards. So soon after the incident, Mother would have a fit.”

He glanced over at her and smiled. “You mean that guard?” He gestured to her left.

As Sarai looked over as a shape shimmered next to her. At first, it looked like nothing more than a heat image lingering over hot rocks. In moments, it became more opaque and took on color. In a handful of heartbeats, the tall figure of silver-haired Senalloy solidified. The burly Baronian woman was dressed in a sleeveless black tunic decorated with the red and white star-shaped crest of the king’s Night Slash elite guards. She wore some loose silk kick-pants, the baggie ankle cuffs tied above hill-slippers. Her long hair was braided into a tail, and the hilt of sword thrust up over her shoulder.

Just seeing her appear had made Sarai draw a breath. Bannor was certain it was her Father’s symbol that surprised her.

“Whoa, Lady Senalloy, you must really have impressed the King this morning.”

The tall woman bowed to him. “They saw my value, but it was your recommendation that carried the most weight—especially with the Queen.”

Sarai glanced back at him. “Have you been following us this whole time?”

Senalloy stepped close and leaned down to Sarai. “Arminwen, you would be surprised at how many people track your movements. I will be a few days learning who works for whom, and who I should continue to permit observing you. Until then, I will be—discrete—unless a situation like now dictates otherwise.”

“Surprised?” Sarai said frowning. “I can think of at least six.”

The violet-eyed woman grinned. “I’ve seen that many this morning alone.” She gestured toward the gate. “After you.”

With Senalloy following they proceeded to the gates, where Sarai checked in with the gate guards. At first, the two midachs demurred, but upon catching sight of Senalloy’s clothing they gestured her through.

They walked through “town” though it was not like any human city in the strictest sense. The entire community was built amongst the trees, rocks, and streamlets. Few straight lines existed in Malan, streets and walkways wove in and out of the tree growth. Some structures built above ground level, spanning the gaps overhead. It was a kind of magic that only elven patience and lifespan could create.

Elf families lived and worked here. Children played. There were merchants and shops. The biggest difference was the sound—or the lack thereof. Where every city Bannor had ever been in was tremendously loud, Malan seemed almost silent in comparison. Wind chimes and pipe music could be heard drifting through the boughs. There was laughter, and talking of course, but it was all very pastoral without the rush and tension one usually felt in the centers of human population.

Corim took them across another bridge toward the center of town and then up a stairwell that wrapped around the bole of a giant scale-wood tree.

The noises of a busy inn grew distinct as they hit the landing at the end of the stairs. They stepped into a crowded commons, where a few dozen elves relaxed, ate and drank. A few halted their conversations to stare at Sarai, obviously recognizing their princess.

Corim steered them toward the back of the room to an isolated table where three humans and two Kriar sat. Dulcere, dressed in green with her hair braided, Bannor recognized. The other Kriar, who was male, looked strangely familiar to Bannor, a burly fellow with long dark hair framing a broad face and blue glowing eyes—not the normal black he had come to associate with Kriar. A white crescent shape was tattooed on one cheek. A leather jacket hung loose on his wide shoulders, the sleeves stitched with strange symbols. He leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed and on the table edge. He had a casual, almost careless posture, worlds different from the careful and formal Dulcere.

The humans were all strangers to Bannor. Two dark-haired women, one fair, the other with the olive skin Bannor associated with people in the south. The last was a brown-haired lanky young man in his late twenties dressed in an unbuttoned leather jacket, and black jodhpurs and polished boots. He was too well muscled to be sedentary, but the jewelry and styled hair screamed ‘dandy’.

As they approached Bannor heard part of the conversation that the olive-skinned woman was directing at the Kriar male. “…what do you mean, free? Why should we do it for free?”

The Kriar male rocked back in the chair, balancing nonchalantly on the rear legs, his hands laced over his middle. His eyes were closed and he was nodding to himself as though listening to some catchy but inaudible musical tune. “Because—I asked you to.” He said in a rumbling, but not unpleasant voice.

The olive-skinned woman scowled. Her dark eyes flashing as she glared at him. The Kriar seemed totally oblivious to her irritation.

The other man who was sitting next to woman rubbed her shoulder.

The pale girl sat quietly. Looking around the room with apparent interest, but not involved in or bothered with the conversation. On second glance, though the woman seemed rather ordinary with her long face and straight hair, there was something odd about her. Her pale gray eyes were particularly intense, not hostile or benevolent, but watchful and… hungry? He didn’t know why his instinct jumped to that. Hungry? Not for food… but what?

Though everyone save Dulcere was a stranger to him, it was Sarai who was humming in surprise. “Keshira Shadowstalker, how interesting to find you in the borders of Malan. We had heard you and your brother Nevarr had died.”

The man who was sitting next to the dark woman scrambled out of his chair and bowed to Sarai with a practiced flourish. “Caldorian Illkaren Felspar at your service Arminwen.”

Sarai nodded to him and glanced back to the woman who simply met her eyes. She sniffed but still lowered her head slightly in deference. “Arminwen Sarai. I—” She frowned in the direction of the gold man. “I had not expected to see any of the royal family—here. As to Our being alive—that was a near thing. We had quite a time hopping from city to city along Canth and Pedon. We finally took up in Ivaneth about seven summers ago. That’s when I met my husband Caldorian.”

“Married into the Felspars is it?” Sarai asked.

“Happily.” She leaned her head to one side. “Apologies, but I find it surprising for you to be with a human.” Her attention turned to Senalloy. “A Baronian—Shael Dal and Kriar no less. Rather progressive—not at all like the policies of T’Evagdurans I remember.”

“Star, you know this woman?” Bannor asked.

Sarai nodded. “Certainly, this is—” She tilted her head. “Was—the princess of Drakmourne, one of the most powerful Kingdoms in Silissia. They provided the mercenary shock troops in one of Corwin’s misguided attempts to press our western border.”

Bronawyn made a dismissing gesture. “It was just business, Arminwen.”

Sarai narrowed her eyes. “I’m certain that’s what the Ariokeen mercenaries said when they chopped off your Father’s head.”

The woman came up out of her chair like a shot, sword shrieking in the scabbard on her side.

As fast as she was, the male Kriar was standing in front of her with a hand on her wrist. Bannor didn’t even see him move. He just instantly filled the space. At the same time, Senalloy stood like a wall between Sarai and the table.

Sarai looked up at the huge woman shielding her. She glanced over at Bannor. She stepped to Senalloy’s side and folded her arms. “Keshira, ware when you make light of the commerce of death, lest you become its next customer. I lost several friends in that business of your father’s and it’s neither funny nor an excuse.”

The woman snarled. “Let go of me, Eclipse.”

The young man also took hold of her arm. “Bronawyn, we’re in bloody Malan. You draw on her and we’ll rot in jail.”

She stopped struggling with the two males but her gaze didn’t waver from Sarai. “Be that as it may. I’ll have an apology for that.”

Sarai smiled. “You’ll have it—the moment you take back that crass remark of yours.”

“Isn’t it nice when princesses get along so well?” Eclipse said. He extended a hand across the table to Senalloy. “Eclipse Shargris, Talonlancer legion Tarkath.”

Senalloy took his hand and dipped her head. “Cada. Senalloy Moirae Corresont currently a member of the Malanian Night Slash elite.” She paused. “Isn’t being a guard bit beneath the station of a Kriar high commander?”

Eclipse shrugged. “I’m on vacation. I could say the same of a Baronian war-witch.”

She sighed and glanced at Corim. “I guess you could say I’m on vacation too.”

“Would you two stop ignoring us?” Bronawyn growled. “And let go of me.”

“We were being civil,” Eclipse said, letting go of her.

“You should make her apologize,” Bronawyn said with a sniff.

“It would serve you right if I let you across the table and she smacked you sideways. Your coarse remark was undignified and not fitting your station.” He leaned over. “Not to mention we are on her front porch. Have some sense, Child. Do you want to get the whole family ousted from Malan? Cassandra will beat you, and Desiray and Loric will stand in line to take turns.”

Bronawyn made a hissing sound.

Sarai tilted her head and tapped her toe. She seemed to greatly enjoy the other princess’ discomfort.

The young man stepped behind Bronawyn and massaged her shoulders and whispered something in her ear that Bannor didn’t hear. At the same time he saw threads of energy twine out from Caldorian’s hands and play through the Silissian woman’s body.

Bannor raised an eyebrow. It was very similar to what Wren was doing to Sarai to nourish the baby.

Bronawyn closed her eyes and let out a sigh, her body went lax and she leaned back against him. “Dammit Cal, I hate when—ummm—I hate when you do that.”

He kissed her on the neck. “You need to relax my sweet—you’re entirely too tense.”

“Urgh.” She rolled her eyes. “All right, damn it.” She jerked her shoulders away from his hands. She took a deep breath and shot another irritated glance at her husband. Her lip curled as she stared at Sarai.

Sarai brushed her hair back and tilted her head the other way.

“My—” Bronawyn seemed to choke. “My apologies, Arminwen. I was inappropriate in my words.”

Sarai raised an eyebrow. “My apologies as well, Keshira. I let my feelings sway my sense of diplomatic propriety.” She raised her chin. “As the Felspars are welcome in Malan, so are you.”

“Arminwen,” Eclipse bowed. “Pardon my failure to introduce myself. I am Eclipse, Bronawyn’s guardian.”

Sarai nodded. “And her adviser it would seem. Well met.”

He dipped his head again, smiling. The blue glow of his eyes brightening.

“Master Shargris was it?” Bannor asked.

The big Kriar nodded.

“I don’t know if Lady Dulcere mentioned it, but I had a fair run-in with another Kriar I think you know—Quasar.”

The Kriar man visibly stiffened. “No, she hadn’t mentioned it.” He glanced to Dulcere then looked back to him.

“Perhaps at a different time in different company—I might share with you some troubling revelations.”

“Revelations?” The Kriar frowned. He bent down and picked up Bronawyn’s chair and offered her a seat. He focused back on Bannor. “Of what kind?”

“I think you would prefer to discuss it in private.”

“Ah.” The Kriar dipped his head. “Understood.” He turned to Bronawyn. “Shall I?”

The Silissian princess leaned back in her chair. “Be my guest, you’ve so graciously given away my money. You might as well talk for me too.”

“You’ll live,” Eclipse told her. He turned back to Bannor. “Dulcere and I discussed your request and I conferred with Mercedes. She would be the one doing the procedure.” He gestured to the dark-haired woman who had been silent throughout the exchange. “She informed me that it would not be difficult to do.”

“Mercedes?” Bannor repeated.

The solemn woman nodded. Her pale gray eyes met his and Bannor felt an itchy sensation all over his body. The sensation made him look at her again with his Nola senses. The woman’s threads were incredibly complex. Not even the ancient Dulcere and Eclipse began to approach the bewildering depth of her tracery. Was he mistaken? It was changing moment to moment as he watched. How was that possible? Dulcere had said she was some kind of living artifice. What he saw before him was very definitely alive—more alive than himself in many ways. A truly amazing creature, he didn’t know what to make of her. Why did he sense loneliness from her?

“Bannor? Are you okay?” Sarai asked, shaking his shoulder.

He blinked. “Oh, sorry.” He bowed. “My apologies Lady Mercedes for staring.”

The corner of the woman’s mouth quirked up. “You find me interesting?”

“To be truthful, yes. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you—you are so—alive.”

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, this time giving him a genuine smile. She raised her chin and looked toward Bronawyn with an arch expression.

The olive-skinned Keshira scowled back at Mercedes. “Fah. What does he know?”

The pale woman focused back on him. “I have retrieved all the necessary information for you. It will take about a quarter bell to perform your request.”

“I’m missing something,” Sarai said. “I thought you were going to learn the pipes.”

“I am.”

“In a quarter bell?”

“It’s magic.”

She frowned.

“It’s safe,” Corim chimed in. “I’ve done it several times.”

“Truth,” Senalloy chimed in. “Besides, Mercedes is by far the best healer you will ever meet.”

“Speaking of healing,” Mercedes spoke up. “Arminwen, are you aware there is a danger to yourself and your baby?”

Sarai blinked. “How did… did someone tell you…?”

“I saw,” Mercedes said. “It is what I do, much the way your Bannor sees—only I view things in terms of medicine. You need to be fitted with a supplemental energy stabilizer soon to provide your unborn with the necessary nutrients.”

Sarai blinked. “Ummm, Cassandra is working on that for me.”

“Ah, well, she will probably confer with me in any event. If you have any questions—please ask. You have a rather unique child.”

“She doesn’t ask anything for free,” Bronawyn grouched.

Mercedes scowled at Bronawyn. “Midwife advice is free. Especially when the client is a princess of the nation where we are guests.”

The Silissian woman growled but didn’t argue.

The strange woman focused back on Bannor. “We acquired a room in the back, we can do the procedure there in privacy.” She rose from her chair and gestured to a doorway behind them.

Bannor circled around the table to follow Mercedes. The whole thing felt so strange. Everyone who knew about it acted so blasé, like it was the most common activity in the world.

Sarai followed him, brow furrowed, a mixture of curiosity and concern on her features.

Mercedes led them past some pub patrons who bowed on recognizing Sarai, then continued down a short hall to a door that she opened. Inside was nothing more than a plain bedchamber with a neatly made pallet, and two chairs.

The odd woman went to the furthest chair, flipped out her skirts, and sat down. She gestured him to the bed. Sarai she indicated to the chair beside her. Senalloy, Corim, Dulcere stood near the doorway.

“Belkirin Dulcere briefed you on what to expect?” Mercedes asked.

He nodded.

“We can proceed any time you’re ready.”

He blinked. “No turning back now I guess.”

“All right, you will be most comfortable lying down,” she said. “Remove your shirt, boots and any metallic jewelry.”

He did as he was instructed and lay back on the pallet. His skin prickled as a cool draft of air blew through the inn room. His heart had picked up tempo and his chest felt tight.

Mercedes put a hand on Sarai’s arm. “I see that you are concerned. I promise that he will not be injured in any way.”

She nodded.

Mercedes picked up her chair and moved it close to the head of the bed.

“First our tools,” the woman said. Using both her hands she described a box in the air. There was a humming sound and a muted glow as sparks of light crisscrossed between her palms. In a sizzle of disrupted air a heavy black case solidified in her hands.

Bannor stared. So did Sarai. This was a magical creature indeed.

Mercedes set the case on the bed next to him, undid the latches on the case and swung open the lid. Inside were many objects embedded in a spongy looking material. She pulled out a short wide vial, unscrewed the lid, and dumped out what looked like a five pieces of silver parchment cut into circles. Each of these she held to her mouth and breathed on it before pressing one to each of his shoulders, the middle of his sternum, and one over each of his temples.

Bannor reached up and touched one. It felt metallic and the material had adhered to his skin. It wasn’t so firmly attached to be alarming, but tight enough that it would have to be peeled off with care. “What are these for?”

“They will help relax you.” She answered her hands moving steadily pulling out objects, assembling some and putting them aside, others she placed on her own body. A crimson jewel that looked similar to the ones that Dulcere and Eclipse wore she pressed into her forehead, the flesh crawling around the crystal and accepting it with a quiet slurp. Dark gray cylinders were pressed into both of her arms just below the wrist, the material assimilated much as the gem on her forehead. Several other gems were pressed into the surface of her right arm. If any of it was painful she didn’t react. She simply moved with the swiftness of total confidence and expertise.

“These will create an information connection between us,” she explained pulling out three gold cylinders resembling thick featureless coins. She breathed on each, placed them on his forehead and on his cheekbones.

“So, let me understand. You know what I need to learn?”

Mercedes stared at him moment as if trying to comprehend his question. “Oh, well not in the way you imagine. I can know anything I want. My ‘mind’ is connected to what you would think of as a library. That library is, for all practical purposes—infinite. I simply pick out the information I want to use and localize it, if that makes any sense. These artifices here on my arms.” She indicated the gray cylinders. “These—how would you best put it—? They purify the words and pictures to make sure what I give to you is clear and without mistakes.”

Bannor narrowed his eyes. “That’s—ummm—” He felt a wave a dizziness. “That’s—a relief to know. Ugh, everything—getting fuzzy.”

Sarai stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not to worry, that’s the relaxants working through his system,” Mercedes told her.

The pale woman took out some large bulky looking gloves and pulled them onto her hands. She closed her eyes and a soft blue glow surrounded her body. She stood silent and motionless for perhaps half a breath. She slowly opened her gray eyes. “I am prepared. Are you still willing to go forward?”

His stomach knotted. He looked up at Sarai. She took his hand. He nodded.

“All right, this first part will be disconcerting, but not uncomfortable.” She rose, reached out a gloved hand, and touched the top of his head.

Before he could even react, there was a hurricane in his mind, a gigantic presence whipping through his memories. Blue and crimson streamers spun through his consciousness as he felt Mercedes’ presence shriek through him. It was not telepathy, because she did not really communicate information to him. Her mind was impossibly fast, perusing summers of sensations, experiences, like someone riffling through the pages of the book.

When she pulled back a moment later Bannor was gasping, his fingers twisting in the bed covers. He was breathing hard, his heart seeming to lurch uneasily. What was she? She had thrown his entire life experience into a sifter and shook out the things she needed in instants.

“My One?”

He blinked and swallowed. “I’m okay.”

“One moment,” Mercedes said stepping back. “I must perform the necessary local integration and migration operations.” She closed her eyes. After a few instants, she frowned. “Interesting. A challenge. Another moment.” She sat back down on her chair, dipped her head and pressed her gloved hands together. She went still.

Sarai glanced at Mercedes then back to Bannor. “What did she do?”

“She came in my head,” he answered. “She just did it so fast that it startled me.”

After a long breath, Mercedes opened her eyes and smiled. “It is pleasurable to experience a real challenge, we get them so rarely. My transfer calculations are complete.”

“I can’t believe all of this ruckus to learn pipes. He could almost have learned the song by now if he simply applied himself.”

Mercedes looked perplexed. “Arminwen, the instrument knowledge was only the fraction of the knowledge he had me prepare. There was quite a bit to integrate. I also had to adapt the information to the way he senses his environment, which is actually in far greater resolution and detail than even many Kriar sense masters. Shall I proceed?”

Sarai stared at him. “You were just going to learn the pipes.”

He wished his mind wasn’t so fuzzy. “I figured—I—figured that I’d just get it—all—overwith.”

“Did you?” She growled. “Without telling me of course.” She looked to Mercedes. “Is this dangerous?”

The gray-eyed woman looked back with a level expression. “There is no threat to his life processes or normal mental functioning. There will be discomfort, synaptic wear and trauma from accelerated manipulation of sensory inputs.”

Sarai put hands on hips. “It just hurts a lot.”

“Not during,” Mercedes corrected. “After.”

She scowled at Bannor, then back at Mercedes. “You’re sure.”

The gray-eyed woman didn’t react in the slightest. “Absolutely positive.”

Sarai shook her head. “Do it. As long as he still wants to go through with it.”

Mercedes looked to him.

He drew a breath. He hoped he didn’t regret this more than he expected to. “Go.”

Mercedes shrugged and stood up. She reached into her case and pulled out a curved shiny piece of metal. “All right, I must place this across your eyes.”

He nodded.

She leaned over and slid the object down over his eyes much the way a masquerade mask was placed on the face. The curve itself was padded and fit snug over his temples and behind the tops of his ears.

Inside the mask he expected it to be dark, but instead there was a grainy light like thousands of bugs flicking around in front of a lantern.

“I will begin the transfer after a ten count,” Mercedes said. “You may feel yourself slipping away, like you are falling asleep. That is normal. Do not be alarmed. When you awake the procedure will be done.”

“Okay,” he said. “Understood.”

“Beginning in ten,” Mercedes intoned.

Bannor felt a buzzing in his skull. Something hummed where he felt his Nola sometimes.

“Nine.”

The humming grew in intensity. The scrambled view inside the mask became a black void with white writing. He saw pictures and diagrams appearing in the void. There was a sharp flicker as if the universe winked out for a moment and returned.

“Five.”

The writing in the void over his eyes began to shuffle with greater speed. He wished he could actually read, he was certain some of it had to do with what Mercedes was doing. The universe flickered green. Spirals shrieked in the view inside the mask. A billion billion threads of life and experience whirled into nothingness. A tearing pain hit the back of his eyes. Creation. The word pounded through him harder than it ever had, making his whole body leap in the bed. Annihilation. Another crash behind the eyes. Perpetuity… Something was squeezing down on his mind.

“N-n-n…” He tried to get out.

“One,” Mercedes intoned. “Engage.”

It hit him like a cold smack, sharp and sudden. The light in the mask flared and then his mind exploded into darkness…

Chapter Twenty-Two
Painful Education

« ^ »

Yes, it works. I thought nothing could hurt as much as when Hella shoved a language into my brain. I was wrong. That will teach me to curb my impetuous decisions, no matter how well intentioned…
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist, Prince Conjugal of Malan

Bannor tried to open his eyes, as the candlelight and the sun shining through the window slashed into his brain, he immediately regretted succeeding. “Argh.” He gripped his skull. “D-d-damn—head—feels—ready to explode.”

“I warned you,” he heard Corim say.

“How bad is it?” Sarai asked with a soft voice. The ache in his head must be distorting sounds. She sounded different—the tone seemed ‘off’.

“Oh owww, worse than any of my backlash. Urrrmmm.”

“Works pretty impressively doesn’t?” Corim remarked.

“Sure does,” Sarai answered. Now, her voice seemed deeper. “Did it have to be a Dykreeni accent? People will think he’s trying to look down on them.”

“He should be able to affect different nuances without difficulty,” he heard Mercedes say from nearby. “The learning is extremely thorough, it includes muscle memory for such things as trills and exotic elements of the language.”

What were they talking about? He wished they weren’t talking so loud.

“My One,” Sarai’s voice was different again, back to that softer more sonorous tone. “Mercedes says it’s going to hurt for a good while, do you want to wait it out here or back at Green Run?”

“Best—best back at Green Run,” he answered. “Oh ow, when they said the results were painful—arrr—they were not—jesting.”

“What you’ve done is phenomenal, Mercedes,” Sarai said in that deeper voice. “Will it be that way with everything? He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it either.”

What was she talking about?

“I can take you back to your chambers,” Senalloy said. “He’d have to be carried otherwise.”

“If I understand your future requirements of Bannor, I believe you should be satisfied,” Mercedes responded. “It will probably be a scoreday or more before he really has a full grasp of the information.”

“Uhhh,” Bannor mumbled, holding a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re—talking about. I don’t—ummm—feel—any—smarter.”

“My One, if you are comprehending my speak. You are smarter.”

He tried to peer at her through the spaces between his fingers. “What? You are just talking—talking like you always do.”

“Precisely.”

“Huh?”

“I apologize about the pain,” Mercedes said. “There really is nothing to be done for it except to knock you out completely. Current canon on this procedure is the patient should remain awake to ensure proper neural development of the knowledge paths.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Sarai said. “Except he should stay awake.”

“Until the pain goes away,” Mercedes added.

“Until the pain goes,” Sarai finished. “I’m certain Bannor would thank you properly if he weren’t hurting so terribly. I know he is no baby so it must ache something fierce.”

Bannor waved his free hand. “Thank—you. I still don’t—feel—different.”

“Don’t worry about it, my One.”

“You’re welcome,” Mercedes said. “It was actually an interesting endeavor. His senses are quite unique. In some ways they are similar to my own. I have never met a natural organic that can perceive in so many spectrums at once.”

“He’s a wonder,” Sarai said, patting him on the shoulder.

“There is one thing,” Mercedes said. Bannor heard her voice drop. “Right as I started the transfer, he started to go into a seizure of some type and I felt an external force connected to him. There was some kind of encoded pattern that for a moment overwrote his entire energy signature. Quite alarming actually. I blocked it, but there’s evidence in his mind that it has happened before.”

“Urgh—has.” He moaned. “Do you know—what it—was?”

He couldn’t see Mercedes’ face but he could imagine the puzzled expression on her normally placid face. “I cannot say at this time. It was something powerful. If you wish, I can do some research. I recorded the incident in detail.”

“Oh yes, please,” Sarai said. “The last time it scared us half to death. You said you blocked it. So, it can be prevented from happening?”

“Yes. I would need to study the phenomenon further to enable others to do it—but it is possible.”

“Great!” Sarai said. “You are a true marvel.”

“Thank you,” Mercedes said. “I should be getting back to Bronawyn. She’ll be getting impatient by now.”

“Pardon my asking, why do you work for her? She seems so ill mannered and unappreciative.”

“It’s just a matter of training her,” Mercedes responded. “I have time. She’s still just a child.”

“All right, well thank you for your assistance, we appreciate it.”

“Good day, Arminwen. Take care, Bannor.”

“Uhhh,” he waved.

He heard Mercedes’ steps recede.

“Corim,” Senalloy said. “You get his right and I’ll get his left.”

“I’ll move my—” He tried to get up and fell back like a bag of wet rags. “Ack.”

“No you won’t,” Corim corrected.

Bannor felt the big man take hold of his arm and shoulder and felt Senalloy do the same. They heaved him out of the bed with ease. With their assistance he could just barely stand.

“Sarai,” Senalloy said. “If you can keep him on his feet.”

“Of course.” She answered. He felt Sarai’s warmth press against him. “Dulcere, I guess I should thank you. You made this possible.”

Bannor assumed Dulcere responded, but his head was aching so much he couldn’t hear a thought even if it had been screamed at him.

“All right,” Senalloy said. “Lets go.”

Before Bannor could brace there was a stomach churning disorientation that had him gasping. His nola senses were too scrambled to make sense of anything. The air was abruptly cooler and the sounds of the inn were gone.

“I’ll get the balcony shutters,” Sarai said.

“We’ll put him on the bed,” Corim said.

He heard footsteps come rushing in behind them as Senalloy and Corim carted him along.

“Ah dama,” Corim said in that voice that like Sarai, sounded off, strangely soft. “Some water please for the young sir.”

“As you will,” a female voice responded, and the sound of slippers on flooring rapidly retreated.

They lay him on the bed.

“Everything sounds so weird,” he murmured.

“I bet it does,” Senalloy replied.

“All right, Bannor, all the light is dimmed in the room,” Sarai said. “Shouldn’t be so bad now.”

He pulled his hand away from his eyes and opened them a little at a time. Even in the near dark it still made his eyes ache, but at least he could keep them open. “Better,” he mumbled.

“Well, you don’t need me now,” Senalloy said. “I have to look in on Ryelle and Janai. The Queen was most specific that I look after all of you.”

“Thank you,” Sarai said.

“Thanks,” Bannor waved to her.

The Baronian bowed and faded out.

Bannor blinked. With his savant senses scrambled he couldn’t tell if she’d teleported away or simply gone invisible.

Corim was staring at the spot where Senalloy had been standing.

“Something the matter?” Sarai asked him.

“Oh nothing,” the burly man said. “It’s just that she’s changed. She’s been without focus since I’ve known her. She seems much happier now.”

“She wasn’t before?”

“Oh, she was okay. I guess being on the ground and involved in something is part of it.”

“I think she likes being needed,” Sarai added. “There’s an awful lot of power and talent going to waste when she’s idle.”

“That’s true,” Corim agreed with a nod. “Well, all right I better get on with my business. Hopefully, Bannor will be feeling well enough for his demonstration at seven bells.” He nodded to him. “Take care, Friend.” He bowed to Sarai and strode out.

After he heard the door in the main hall close Bannor let out a breath. He groaned. “He warned me damn it. Urgh, but I can’t leave well enough alone.”

“It’s done now, my One.” She sat on the bed next to him.

“I feel so stupid,” he grumbled. “It hurts this much and it didn’t do anything.”

“It worked fine.”

“What are you talking about? How do you know?”

She signed. “Can you understand me, my One?” She asked in that higher voice. “Does what I am saying make sense?”

“Of course, why should it not?”

“Because I am speaking high Elven,” she responded with a laugh.

“What?”

“When your head stops hurting,” she continued. “It will make more sense. Suffice that I am very happy and Mother will be pleased as well.”

How could she be speaking Elvish? Her words did sound a little different. He stopped trying to figure it out. Concentrating just made it hurt more.

“If you are happy—I am happy,” he told her.

She stroked his brow with a gentle hand. “I am happy.” She hummed a tune. “Tell me a story.”

“A story? What kind?”

“Anything,” she said. “You have to stay awake.”

“Urm,” The pain made it so hard to think. “Okay. By the summer run off—called the Vesper River, in the shadow of Radigast Peaks, was a town called Blackwater.” He drew a breath. “It was a dismal scratchy place that only desperate traders would do business in. Which is exactly why I went there…”

He spoke, halting at times when the pain was too much to find words, but struggling on. He knew it was simply an exercise to get him focused off the discomfort. He grappled with it and did his best, even when the throbbing in his skull made tears roll down his face.

Sarai listened quietly nodding at times. It was after all, their story, merely a retelling of events that she had not born witness to.

He was not aware of how long he talked. The agony made every instant seem interminably long. He couldn’t run away from it though, or fall asleep. He kept on.

The pain did not lessen or gradually taper off. Some significant time later when the slashes of light from the balcony shudders had almost gone dark, the sensations vanished. Like the lifting of a massive weight from his shoulders, he gasped.

“My One,” Sarai asked.

“It—it stopped hurting,” he mumbled. “So tired.”

“Take a nap then, rest, you have to be weary after all that. I will wake you in a bit.” She kissed him.

“Ummm…”

He didn’t remember dozing off, just being exhausted from holding back a scream. His eyes still felt heavy, but simply being without that tremendous ache was a pleasure. Candles flickered in the darkness, he felt around the bed and finding Sarai not there. After a few tries, he managed roll his feet off the bed and sit up. He rubbed his face. It felt crusty with salt and perspiration. That fast learning was not for the faint hearted—at least not so many things at once.

He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment on weak legs. That session took a lot out of him. He staggered into the washroom, turned up the lamp, and rinsed his face in the basin.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel any smarter. Sarai insisted he was. How could he know something and not know he knew?

He stared at the sink. What’s the word in Elven for sink? Dala. Did he know that before? What about mirror? Flectir. Floor? Subrar. Sky? Nimbril.

He stopped. He didn’t have to concentrate. What language was he thinking in now? Common? Elven? Both? It gave him a headache just considering it. Maybe it didn’t matter. How did he tell what language he was speaking in?

Whatever the case, he couldn’t be seen in the mess he was in now. He stripped off the lunch clothes stiff with exertion, and immersed himself in the warm water of Sarai’s tub. The feel of the hot liquid on his taut muscles was a decadent luxury that made him sigh in relief. He lingered for a bit, taking extra time to soap up and get clean before climbing out and toweling off.

He changed into a white shirt and black breeches and tied back his hair. Still a bit unsteady on his feet, he headed toward the main hall. One of the maids was cleaning in a side corridor.

He nodded to her. “Nemira, I hope you are well this evening.”

The elf girl dropped the cloth she was cleaning with and stared at him.

Bannor looked down at the cloth. He walked over a picked it up and handed it to her. “You might want this.”

She blinked glowing amber eyes and took the cloth from him with stiff fingers. “Uhhh, yes, master Bannor.”

He studied the effect he was having on her. He must be speaking in Elvish. Strange, he couldn’t feel himself doing it. “Nemira, you do not find me hard to understand do you?”

The maid shook her head. She looked scared.

“I have to find Sarai. Have you seen her?”

Nemira nodded and pointed into the main quarters.

“Thanks, pleasant speaking with you, good evening.”

She bowed to him.

He turned away. He was barely three steps down the hall when he heard her scrambling to another part of the house. That might put an end to all the talk going on behind his back.

He found Sarai and Wren in the main conference circle. The blonde savant was dressed for dinner in a blue silk gown, with fancy earrings and necklaces. He’d never seen her wear clothes like those. She was even more pretty than he imagined she’d be.

Sarai was also dressed for a formal dinner, in a shiny black gown with gold chasing. She had her silvery hair up, and an assortment of gold jewelry on. Seeing her fancied up always made his breath catch and his heart beat faster.

“Wren, you’re back.”

“That I am,” the blonde savant replied. “Sarai has been telling me about your interesting afternoon.”

“How are you feeling, my One?” she asked him, smiling and holding a hand out to him.

Without the ache in his head he recognized that she had spoken in Elvish. His instinct, without any real thought on his part was to respond in kind. “Better,” he answered, bending and giving her knuckles a kiss. “Much better. I am glad something worked and I did not go through it all for nothing.” He came around the couch and sat next to Sarai. She snuggled up next to him.

Wren raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, that’s impressive. I knew quick-teach could do such stuff, but was always afraid to try it. You sound like a native, Bannor!”

He frowned. “The weird thing is I can’t even feel myself do it. I know it’s good for scaring the maids at least. They always talk behind my back—I wished Nemira a good evening and she almost fainted.”

Wren laughed.

“It’s the Dykreeni accent,” Sarai said. “It’s very hard to master, few if any humans ever get that level of proficiency.” She paused looking into his eyes. “Your people rarely live long enough. You talking like that would be—disturbing. The natural thought is that you’ve been feigning not to know Elvish.”

“I can see why that might scare them, I know they say bad things behind my back.”

“I have yet to catch even a glimmering of that.”

“You won’t either. They’re far too smart to get caught.”

“So, what else did you learn?” Wren asked.

He frowned. “I don’t know. I know what I was supposed to learn.”

“Which was?”

“Reading and writing in common, speaking, reading, and writing in Elvish, all the necessaries for the wedding ceremony, and how to take care of Sarai and the baby.”

“Run that last by me again?” Wren said, leaning her head to one side.

“I asked to be taught to how to do that thing with the energy like you do.”

“You did?” Sarai smiled at him.

“That’s what I asked for.”

“Whoa,” Wren shook her head. “No wonder you had a headache.”

He sighed. “Right.” He lolled his head on Sarai’s shoulder. “So, you two are all dressed up. Where are we going?”

“You have to perform, remember?”

“Perform? I was just going to play the pipes to satisfy you and your mother.”

“Well, Father wants to hold a little party and invite some of the Felspar clan over, since they will be taking care of me.”

Wren put a hand to her chest. “Family Kergatha has been asked to moderate.”

“Moderate?”

Wren frowned. “It’s a fancy way to say we’ll be there to do introductions. It’s on short notice, so I don’t know how many of the Felspars will actually show up.”

He let out a breath. “Anyone else showing up?”

“Well, all of our circle of friends and relatives of course,” Sarai answered. “There might be a few others.”

He looked around at the dim light coming in through the veranda shudders. “So, when does it start?”

“Another half bell or so. I explained to mother what you were going through and we both decided to give you a reprieve until a little later.”

He frowned at her. “How magnanimous of you.”

“My One, I was serious. A deal is a deal. In fact,” she rose from the couch and went to some cabinets and looked through a few drawers. “Ah.” She pulled out what looked like a series of silver tubes held together with slats of wood. She came back with the strange and dreaded object in hand and held it out to him.

“Pipes,” he grumbled. He took the odd contraption from her. It felt odd now, not cold and clumsy like before. His fingers seemed to naturally curve toward the key tone reeds.

He thumbed the feed valve on the bottom. The object didn’t seem alien anymore. Strange.

“So,” Sarai urged. “Play.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, best to know now so you don’t disappoint Mother in front of a crowd of people.”

He let out a breath. He still didn’t know how to play the damn things. What was the middle note the maestro had taught him? He lifted the pipes to his mouth, drew a breath, thumbed the feed and fingered the valves.

He blew.

Even this simple thing had been a challenge in the past, just to make a passably pure sound. This time with barely any preparation, he blew a single clear unwavering note.

He pushed the pipes away and stared at them. He glanced at Sarai. His wife to be leaned her head to one side. Wren looked at him and smiled.

“Well,” Sarai said. “That’s a good start.”

Bannor furrowed his brow. This knowing and not knowing was so confusing. Did he or didn’t he?

He pulled the pipes close and thought of the tune that he had heard Corim playing earlier in the day. He remembered back to the Maestro’s demonstrations and considered the things he must do.

He drew a breath, positioned his fingers and blew. The first note and then the second. After several notes he stopped. Something didn’t feel right. Something in him wanted something else.

Fishing around he moved to the steps before the main door and positioned himself on the stone flags. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Tapping his foot he set a time. Placed his fingers, and exhaled a long tremulous note then trailed into the next. The melody seemed to flow from him, his fingers moving without thought, his breaths measured to take fermatas and cross bridges. It seemed to take a long time but like awaking from a dream he realized he’d stopped.

He looked down to Sarai. Tears streaked her face and her violet eyes were shiny with emotion. She had grabbed a pillow from the couch and was hugging it tight.

“Star? What’s the matter?”

She blinked at him with dewy eyes. “Bannor,” she said in rough voice. “That was beautiful.”

“Does that mean I pass?”

She rose from the chair came and put her arms around him. “It means I love you…”

Chapter Twenty-Three
Party Crashers

« ^ »

It had been over a millennia since I last saw a garmtur. I am both pleased and appalled by one with so much of Gaea’s gifts. He bears the burden well, this young one, and cares about his brothers and sisters. That at the very least is commendable.
—Damay Alostar,
Senior Kel’Varan, retired

Sarai dressed him in new colors for the party, this time far more reserved. She and Wren finished primping in front of Sarai’s mirror, or more specifically, Sarai helped Wren with the details. The blonde savant while pretty, didn’t have a refined sense of court coiffure and skin powder. Sarai fussed over her, which was a surprise to Bannor. She had always been relatively derogatory of the blonde woman with terms like ‘show-off’ and ‘know-it-all’.

His princess was not one for overt decoration, but like everything she did, she did it well; especially with three attendants to assist.

Word of his being able to understand Elvish had apparently spread fast, and much of the tittering that he heard in the background was absent.

Refastening an earring, Wren stood up and turned around. She looked to him where he’d been sitting on a bench watching the whole procedure. “So, what do you think?”

Sarai came and stood behind Wren, hands on her shoulders. When they had first met, she and Wren had been about the same height. Now Sarai was much taller, able to put her chin on the top of blonde woman’s head if she chose.

Wren was a powerful little package, the drape of the soft blue fabric accenting her trim physique especially the bare midriff that showed off her flat stomach. With her blonde hair brushed to a bright sheen and coiled on her head she looked every bit the nobility she was.

“You look like the fetching daughter of a baron that you are,” he responded. “If you looked like that more often you’d probably be married three times over.”

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe.”

“Are we ready?” he asked.

Sarai nodded. She looked down at Wren. “He’s right, you know. I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent attachment already.”

Wren shook her head. “One half of the men are too challenged by a girl who can protect herself. The other half get killed by my enemies.” She let out a breath. “It still hurts to be honest. I’m afraid I’ll get someone else I care for killed.”

“Oh come now,” Sarai said, taking Wren by the hand and gesturing Bannor to follow. “Your three best friends have husbands.”

“Are you one of my best friends now?” Wren asked Sarai with a raised eyebrow.

His wife-to-be smiled. “Might as well be, it’ll keep us from killing each other!”

Wren laughed. “There is that.”

“What about that fellow Thanos?” Bannor asked. “He seemed to think you were already engaged. I imagine he’s pretty durable.”

“What’s this?” Sarai asked.

“One of Aarlen Frielos’ sons,” Wren filled in. “She’s been trying to get me to work for her for summers since she first saw me kill an avatar. She’s run out of bribes and coercion so she’s working on a different persuasion.”

Sarai leaned her head to one side. “Is he handsome?”

Wren puffed out her cheeks and blew a silent whistle. “Oh yeah, in-your-dreams handsome, well mannered, smart, wealthy…”

“So the problem is?”

“He’s Aarlen’s son.”

“Is she bad?” Sarai asked. “I mean I’ve heard the legends, but I never put stock in them.”

The door person opened the main entrance door for them. Sarai nodded to the elderly elf. They turned down the corridor toward Kul’Amaron. Their footsteps echoed in the long passage.

“She’s not as bad as she used to be,” Wren explained. “The legend was she was evil incarnate. Then the eternals caught her and gave her an attitude adjustment. She’d been reformed for about a decade when I first met her and she was scariest creature I’d ever met.”

“She’s still scary,” Bannor added. “It’s different though, the hostility isn’t there, but the potential for violence still is.”

Wren pointed a finger at him. “That’s it exactly! I couldn’t put it into words myself. When I knew her at first she was aggressive and ruthless, she didn’t care a whit about who or what she destroyed to get what she wanted. Now…” Her voice trailed off as they climbed the steps to the bridge-way that would take them to the inner bastion. “Now…s-she—she’s—nice. It’s a creepy nice though. Hard to describe.”

“She would kill without a qualm,” Bannor said. “Killing a bug, a person, or a world are all the same to her—it just requires the necessary provocation or justification.”

“She sounds like one bad lady,” Sarai remarked with wide violet eyes. Her voice echoed in the passage and flattened out as they left the confines of the building out into railed walkway. It was already night outside, and the dome of the heavens gleamed with stars. Bright firelight flickered from the windows of the citadel and a particularly bright shaft of illumination shone into the sky from high up in the structure. “So, I suppose the prospect of being related to her is pretty daunting.”

“More than…” Wren confirmed. She stared up at the heavens and murmured, “beautiful night.”

“It is,” he agreed. “A little more about Aarlen, I’m curious. What’s this relationship between her and Corim? It’s like they’re connected or something.”

The blonde woman shrugged. “I never saw him before—well, okay I saw him once in Jhandris. I don’t know anything about him or his relationship with Aarlen or Beia.”

“Beia?” Sarai repeated. “Beia Targallae? The warmaster of the Corwin games?”

Wren nodded. “Yes, she’s the one who taught me to fight. Well, one of them anyway.”

Sarai shook her head. “I have to envy your education. That kind of schooling can’t be bought at any price.”

“I wish I appreciated it more at the time. I know how valuable it is now.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. “Star, how is it you seem to know all these people?”

His fiancé sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that they’re all extremely famous—especially the Band of the Crescent Moon.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Bannor said.

“Can you name any?”

“Well, uh, Cassandra—and DacWhirter, I remember that being mentioned when we met him.”

“They are sixteen of the most powerful adventurers on Titaan,” She told him. “Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Keven of the Black Hand, Tab of the high minstrels, Skyweir, Giquikor, and Edrick the war-hands of the silent sect, Karsk and Algernon of the borderlands—kinsmen of yours, Desiray Illkaren—Whitelock—”

“My first teacher,” Wren said.

Sarai looked at her sideways. “T’Gor D’Shar of Southland, Oorcee of the Western Forests, Gondor of Stonehaven, DacWhirter of Blackstar, Beia of the Arenas, Bertram of Coormeer, Damrosil the Myrmigyne… We know their names because any one of them can shift the balance of power of among the Kingdoms.”

He made a puttering sound with his lips. “Come on, I mean I’m powerful but I can’t change kingdoms around.”

“There’s more to power that smacking something with a stick,” Wren said. “There’s knowledge, resources, allies and finances. Many of them have been amassing personal power for half a century. That’s why the Felspars terrify the Kingdoms. Six of the Band are either a part of the Felspar family or close allies. They could be a kingdom if they chose and no one, probably not even Malan could stop them.”

“Well,” Sarai’s voice trailed off. “At any rate that’s why Mother and Father tolerate Cassandra’s—familiarity. We acknowledge their power and appreciate their desire to remain relatively neutral.”

The three of them walked along in silence for a while, going through the outer bastion gate and into the main yard. Sarai chose a different way into Kul’Amaron this time, following a wide staircase that zig-zagged up the side of the ancient structure. As they headed up the steps, the illumination they saw from the bridge grew brighter. The sound of stringed instruments and pipes became audible. The top landing opened onto a large curved balcony.

A half-dozen guards awaited them, mirror polished armor seeming on fire as it reflected the torchlights blazing overhead. The two elves nearest the landing crossed their spears to block the way. Sarai stepped forward and raised a hand.

“Three to enter,” she said.

The guards bowed their heads and the spears were withdrawn.

A huge pair of double-doors easily three paces high, and double that wide, lay open before them and golden light streamed out. The citadel roof slanting up from the wall was cut and fitted with something transparent, and rays of illumination streaked into the sky, casting the surrounding stone in a gold radiance. The music resonated through the stone now, and now they could hear the murmur of voices as well.

They were challenged again at the next doorway by Elves in formal attire. These Bannor recognized as mages. Both held large crystals in their hands and they shined a crimson light on each of them in turn.

Beyond the doors, a short hall opened up into a huge tiered chamber. Like many of the gathering places in the citadel, the chamber was made to look like an outdoor venue, in the case of this place, a rocky canyon. Water cascaded through rocks into cisterns around which many colored mage-lights had been placed. The water reflected the colors all across the area in a scintillating display. At the very back in the highest vantage was a raised dais and dining area obviously for the King and Queen. Curved banquet tables arced to either side from the central podium.

The dais and tables were empty of people. Instead, a group of at least a hundred people thronged the stone floor of the chamber.

Bannor blinked. He’d been prepared for a fairly large party but not this. The number of people did not bother him so much as the power he sensed coming from them. The room was all but choked by threads of elemental and mystical power.

As the three of them came down the steps, he picked out a few faces he knew like Dulcere, Senalloy and Corim. The King and Queen stood to one side with Euriel and Vanidaar, Cassandra, a white-haired woman, and a burly older man. Tal, Beia, and surprisingly Aarlen stood near the center, casting her long shadow over the nearby people. Two other women with dark hair, equally as large stood with her. There were other Kriar as well, standing together in a group. Eclipse, Cassandra, and four others he didn’t recognize. From their threads, he picked his new friends, relatives, and acquaintances. Janai and Daena had a small circle of males and females around them making conversation. Laramis and Irodee were with three other couples that included Ziedra and her husband, Bronawyn and Caldorian from the inn, and two more Bannor didn’t know.

As they moved down into the crowd, men and women bowed to Sarai. It was Wren though that caused the stir. Hugs, touches on the arm or shoulder—everyone knew her name and she knew their names as well.

Moving toward the King and Queen was one tremendous string of polite greetings as Wren introduced everyone in their path. Some of the girls were so pretty they just took his breath away. Sarai was beautiful in every sense of the word, but some of the Felspar ladies gave true meaning to the word ‘stunning’.

Sarai was frowning at his reactions until Wren introduced an androgynous young man.

“Arminwen, Bannor,” Wren said to Sarai. “My friends Everia Felspar, and her brother Darin’kel Felspar.”

Bannor nodded to Everia. She was the prettiest girl by far they had seen. He almost swallowed his tongue. “Lady—Everia.” He stumbled on the words. “Master Darin’kel.” To cover up, he shook Darin’s hand. Effeminate he might appear, but the fellow had a calloused hand and a grip like steel. “Well met, both of you.”

The two bowed to Sarai. “Everia,” Sarai greeted and turned to the young man. “Dar—” Her voice caught, because as she had spoken he raised his head. “Darin’K-kel,” she barely got the words out. “Well—met…” Her voice trailed off.

“Thank you, Arminwen,” Darin’kel said with a smile. “Thanks to your family for entertaining us this night.”

Sarai blinked, glowing violet eyes wide almost as though she were mesmerized.

Bannor nudged her with his elbow. “Yes,” she said, making a little twitch. “Think nothing of it. It’s our pleasure.”

They bowed and moved on through the crowd. As they pushed on Bannor felt a tickle in the back of his mind. Another creature of power had just entered the area. The emanation came from near the five Kriar, a silhouette perched on a ledge above them. He blinked. Quasar. That could be bad…

“Where do they get them all!” Sarai’s words snapped him out of his speculation.

“Didn’t know humans could be that pretty, did you?” Wren said with a grin. “As to where they all come from; they make them. When you meet Desiray and Dorian. You’ll see why.”

Should he alarm everyone by announcing the rogue Kriar’s presence? Her threads did not suggest agitation. Merely sadness—loneliness. She wanted to be near her mate, even if was from afar. The creature might be alien, but at least that much about her was understandable. He might as well let it go for now.

“You’re quite a celebrity,” Bannor said to Wren.

“More like famous family,” Wren said with grin. “Desiray is like my other mother.”

Even though they avoided the middle of the room, somehow their path crossed Aarlen’s. The white-haired giant, dressed in a black satin gown and silver tiara made a slight tip of her head to Sarai as did the two dark-haired women with her. They were twins, Bannor immediately recognized. While Aarlen was in black, they were in brilliant red, their arms and necks heavily festooned with jewelry. Like the other women they had already met, they were breath taking.

“Good Evening, Wren,” Aarlen said.

The blonde savant bowed to her in response and looked to Sarai.

“Sarai T’Evagduran, third princess of Malan, I present to you Fourth Alliance Magestrix Aarlen Frielos. On her left, her daughter Duchess Ascendant Sindra Frielos, and her sister, Duchess Ascendant Drucilla Frielos.” The two women nodded when their names were spoken. “Sindra, Drucilla,” Wren continued. “This is Captain Bannor Starfist of the Ranger Elite of Tenax.”

The two women nodded to him with smiles, their silver eyes making an uneasy shiver go up his spine. They weren’t as strong as Aarlen, but they were easily as strong as any avatar he had ever encountered.

“Greetings Magestrix—excellencies,” he said.

“You are very good at these introductions, Wren,” Aarlen remarked with a smile. “You might have missed your calling.”

“Pardon Milady,” Bannor asked. “No offense, but how is it you came to be invited?”

Aarlen raised an eyebrow. “My daughters are married into the Felspars. That makes me mother-in-law to their mates—therefore I am a relative. Convenient, yes?”

“Yes,” Sarai said, with a nod. “Still, with someone of your rank it seems this gathering would be a trivial affair for you.”

Aarlen leaned her head to one side and put a huge hand on Bannor’s shoulder. “No, not trivial at all not with a Garmtur and all these savants involved. Especially whenever the Kriar take interest in something—I do.” She nodded toward Eclipse and four other Kriar standing together.

Sarai’s gaze followed that of the Magestrix. “Yes, I saw some of their magic demonstrated today. It is—impressive.”

“Really?” Aarlen focused on Bannor. “I heard that you met up with Mercedes. What did you have done?”

“Nothing that you would consider significant,” he answered.

“You mean besides the language implants?”

He knew his jaw dropped. He didn’t bother to say how, it was probably written on his face.

Aarlen leaned forward. She patted the bracelet on her arm. “I am a Shael Dal, remember?”

“Yes—”

He was going to say more, but he was cut off by the feeling of a powerful savant moving close.

“—Aarlen, are you ever satisfied? First, Wren, now this young man? Leave them be. You have enough playthings.”

A woman a little shorter than Wren with dark brown hair and dark eyes stepped up beside the blonde savant. She was a dressed in a gray silk gown, her throat and hands dripping with jewelry. The swirl of threads whipping around her made her identity clear. This was the elder Kel’Varan.

“Damay!” Wren threw her arms around the smaller woman in a hug. “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been so long!”

Damay hugged her back. “Not that long child, but I am glad to see you as well.” She turned and bowed to Sarai.

Wren remembered her manners and straightened up. “Sarai T’Evagduran, third princess of Malan, I present to you High Lady Damay Alostar.” She gestured to him. “Damay, this is Captain Bannor Starfist of the Ranger Elite of Tenax.”

Damay nodded bowed to him. “Savant lord, my regards. It has been a while since I have met a Garmtur.”

Aarlen frowned down at the much smaller woman. “What are you doing here?”

Damay grinned. “I am sister to Wren, to Bannor, to Ziedra, and to the fire-haired one over there.” She gestured toward Daena and Janai with their circle of admirers. “My but that one has ‘being’ I have only seen one time before…” She focused back on Wren with narrowed eyes.

“She’s a first one, at least she is now,” Wren said. “Thanks to him.” She punched Bannor in the shoulder.

“Hella forced me,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm. “The rest was done by that Kell person.”

Aarlen put hands on hips. “Has something else happened?”

“Like all of us getting stomped by one guy including Dulcere,” Wren said. “Nothing else.”

“What?” She glanced over to where Dulcere was conversing with the other Kriar. “She and…”

“All of us savants,” Bannor added. “And Corim. Took us down like green recruits.”

“You’re not dead—so what was the purpose of the attack?”

Bannor shrugged. “All he did was empower Daena, and leave.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all we are aware of.”

“And no-one saw fit to inform me?” Aarlen growled.

“Pardon,” Sarai said. “But what business is it of yours?”

“I have a vested interest in the team. Ziedra is my niece and Wren will likely be my daughter-in-law soon.”

Wren’s jaw dropped. Damay blinked. Aarlen’s two huge daughters who had been silent throughout the exchange, grinned.

Bannor had heard Wren surmise that Aarlen had something planned. What was probably more stunning was for her to so openly state it.

“W-what?” Wren sputtered. “How? Who? I don’t even have a boyfriend!”

The giant white-haired woman’s expression barely cracked. “And it’s high time. You need to act while you’re in your prime child-bearing years.”

“Child-bearing!?” the blonde woman gasped. “Aarlen, I don’t even know if I want kids!”

The elder dismissed Wren’s objection with a wave of her hand. “Posh. Of course you do.” She glanced at Bannor with a raised eyebrow and twist of her thin painted lips. “Six should be sufficient.”

Wren put hands on hips. She stared at Aarlen’s giant daughters and then back at Aarlen. “You’re joking? Six? Were they required to have six kids?”

“No,” the magestrix rumbled.

“That’s what I thought.”

“For them, it was nine—each.”

The blonde savant paled. “Nine?”

Two more figures pressed out of the crowd. One was another white-haired woman, dressed in dark blue silk, she was a little taller than average with a shapely body and long legs. Her upturned emerald eyes flashed like jewels in the bright light of the room. The other lady dressed in green and wore her dark auburn hair in a crown pleat with a long tail. With her round face and blushing features one could easily mistake her for a teenager if not for her voluptuous body.

The two newcomers pressed between Aarlen and Wren.

“Desiray!” Wren let out, apparently glad for the interruption. She hugged the white-haired woman.

“Sorry, I missed you at breakfast,” Desiray said, hugging her back. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“You’re here now, that’s good enough for me!” She let go of Desiray and turned to the other lady. “Dorian.” She gave her a hug as well.

The auburn haired lady seemed surprised and pleased at once.

“Whoa. A hug. Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

“Dorian, can anyone stay mad at you forever?” Wren asked.

She grinned. “None so far.”

“It’s just a matter of time,” Aarlen said with a frown.

Wren disengaged herself and put her arms around both women. She turned to Sarai. “Sarai T’Evagduran, third princess of Malan, I present to you Countess Desiray Illkaren Felspar Tarrantil. My—” She looked into Desiray’s eyes for a moment. “Good friend, and occasional adventuring partner.” She leaned her head toward the other woman. “Arminwen, this is Supreme Arcanist Dorian Degaba Ishtarvariku. A lady to whom I owe—much.” She paused. “Desiray, Dorian, may I introduce to you Captain Bannor Starfist of the Ranger Elite of Tenax.”

Bannor nodded to both of them. Just seeing these two explained a lot about the Felspars. Both were attractive, powerful, and far older than they looked—especially Dorian who seemed more child than woman. The woman’s pattern showed that she was the mother of boy whose beauty had so impressed Sarai.

“Thank you for having us at your party,” Desiray said to Sarai. “It looks like it’s going to be fun.”

“It’s more my father’s idea, but I hope you enjoy it,” Sarai responded.

“You have some fascinating friends,” Dorian said. She glanced toward Daena, and then her gaze tracked to Senalloy and Dulcere standing with Corim.

“They are more Bannor’s friends,” Sarai said. “I find them interesting myself.”

Bannor focused on the young appearing woman. “Lady Dorian, did Wren speak right, you are a supreme arcanist?”

Dorian bowed her head. “That is my title for whatever it’s worth.” She nodded to Wren. “She’s quite good at these introductions.” She raised an eyebrow. She glanced back at Aarlen.

The elder’s mouth quirked.

Dorian focused back on him. “I understand you have Baronian problems.”

“I don’t know that they are my problem specifically,” he answered. “I may have annoyed one of their commanders.”

The auburn haired woman leaned close and spoke low. “You have problems then.”

“Do you know the Baronians Lady Dorian?” Sarai asked.

“Of them, yes,” Dorian replied. “I learn more every day. Is this in connection with Corim’s assignment for the Shael Dal?”

“It is,” Aarlen said. “I will be approaching Loric for his assistance later.”

Desiray’s eyes widened. Dorian’s face clouded. Obviously, such a statement from Aarlen was alarming.

“This is quite a gathering,” Damay said looking around. “That collection of Kriar concerns me. They seem rather—focused.”

Aarlen looked over. “Eclipse, Dulcere, Marna, Ivral and Dame Techstar—quite a cabal. They have reason to be concerned.”

Bannor frowned, feeling his chest tighten as he stared in that direction. Quasar was still there, she hadn’t moved. He could feel her emotions. He wondered if Eclipse could. This seemed as good a time as any to mention her presence. “You forget Quasar, she’s here too.”

The name made Desiray and Dorian twitch and look around.

“You can see her?” Desiray asked, eyes wide.

“I can now,” he answered. “I have her pattern, so I know when she’s around.”

“Damn, I better find Cassin and Annawen,” Dorian said.

“At ease,” Aarlen said holding up a hand. Her two huge daughters were already moving into the crowd. With their huge height, they easily moved through the group.

“They can’t handle Quasar,” Dorian growled.

“Neither can you,” Aarlen told her.

“I don’t believe Quasar is here to cause trouble,” Bannor said. “I think she’s here to see—” A movement on his right made him stop. The bright auburn hair and her height made the person’s identity clear.

“Bannor,” Daena said, she stopped and put a hand on his shoulder her glowing green eyes looking into his. “I think Quasar is here. I’m sensing her somehow.”

Bannor put his hand on Daena’s. “She is. Up there on that ledge.” He pointed.

Daena’s head pivoted and her eyes narrowed. “You’re right, I see her. Wow. I couldn’t do that before.”

“I bet you find a lot of things after whatever Kell did,” he said. “Daena, Wren was just introducing us to Lady Damay. Damay Alostar, this is Arminwen Janai’s Ward Prodigal Daena Sheento.”

Gown riffling, Daena curtsied to Damay. “An honor.” She raised her head. She glanced at Wren, then back to Damay. She grinned. “The biggest of my big sisters—in a manner of speaking.”

Damay clicked her tongue and smiled. “Prodigal is an apt term for you. You are the blessing that Gaea feared would never be again.”

Daena drew a breath. She glanced again to where Quasar still perched in the windowsill. “I don’t feel blessed. Being a savant wasn’t much fun to begin with.”

“Is your life with Janai so bad then?” Sarai asked with a raised eyebrow.

The auburn-haired girl let out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Okay, so recently it hasn’t been so bad. It’s only been a half season and I’m getting brow beaten by Eternals, assassins are impersonating me, and Kell does whatever he did.” She made a dismissing gesture. “Whatever. What are we going to do about Goldie up there?”

“I say we do nothing,” Bannor said. “I don’t see any hostile intent. She’s here because Eclipse is here.”

“Eclipse?” Daena said. “The Kriar guarding miss snooty Silissian?”

Desiray and Dorian both let out laughs.

White-haired Desiray pressed a hand to her breast. “Now,” she pointed a finger at Daena and laughed again. “I refuse to let you call my—daughter-in-law—snooty. It might be accurate, but it would—” She wiped an eye. “It would hurt my son’s feelings.”

It was good to know the Felspars at least had a sense of humor.

Daena shook her head. “I’ll consider myself chastened, Milady.”

“It is the perfect word for her though,” Dorian said with a grin. “I must tell Cassandra that one. Pompous little nit…” She caught herself. “Pardon, you didn’t hear me say that.”

“I did not,” Sarai said. “I called her worse just today.”

“Perhaps we should talk about something else,” Bannor said. “I notice this isn’t a sit down party.”

“Not this group, not on short notice,” Sarai said.

“What’s so difficult? A table, some chairs…”

“You’re joking right?”

He frowned.

Wren leaned forward. “You have blood royals, elders, great elders,” she glanced at Aarlen. “Warlords—Plutocrats—Mages—aliens. Who is senior to whom? Aarlen is boss of entire planets—just not this one. Dulcere is the daughter of the Kriar matriarch for the entire race of Kriar. Aarlen owns recognized territory in the Ring Realms and her family has thousands of titles. On the other hand, you’ve been in way-point you see what the Kriar people can do. In absolute power, the Kriar have technically greater strength but no territory—no presence in the Ring Realms. Which one of them gets the seat of honor at the King’s right?”

Bannor frowned. “Ummm.” He glanced at Aarlen. “The one I can least afford to offend I guess—” He looked up at Aarlen. “Or the most easily offended.”

Aarlen made an evil grin. “Now he gets it.”

“Hard choice, huh?” Wren said.

“It’s the headache Mother was accepting when Cassandra requested an invitation to the wedding,” Sarai said. “Many of the Felspars have honors and titles. Some of them exceptionally thorny. Lady Illkaren-Felspar is a Countess of Corwin in her own right, she is life-bound to the High Justicar Baron Bertram Tarrantil of Coormeer, and married to Supreme Arcanist Loric Felspar who is also great elder and a warlord. What title do you use? You can’t just arbitrarily use the highest, and certainly not the lowest. I spent summers learning etiquette—I couldn’t tell you. Someone has to figure it out though…”

Dorian leaned forward. “She loves it too. It’s her way of creating chaos without lifting a finger or saying a word.”

“I’ve gotten a castellan or two in hot water,” Desiray said with a wink. “Nobody wants to offend either of my husbands…” She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you my title either.”

Bannor found the two Felspar women fascinating and exotic—totally jaded yet somehow grounded as well. Lady Illkaren had a mean streak that she obviously kept in check. Her affection for Wren seemed quite genuine and strong. Dorian was more of an enigma—difficult to read—a person extremely well versed in wearing masks.

“I would say ‘what’s in a name?’, but I know better,” he said. “I—” He stopped. He felt an icy chill run down his back. Threads, many of them, were suddenly where they shouldn’t be, and getting closer. His heart jumped to a gallop. Here? Now? It made no sense! There was an army in this room, what did they think…??? The realization hit him like a punch in the stomach. “Aarlen!” He yelled. At the same time he yelled a thought to all his savant brothers and sisters. <Baronians, a lot of them!>

Chapter Twenty-Four
Clash

« ^ »

The middle of battle isn’t the best way to meet your newest ally, but it is a fine way to take the measure of their courage and the depth of their heart.
—Loric Felspar Vilesilencer,
Krillar High Master

Bannor whipped around, blood pounding in his temples. Baronians—in this place? His whole body went cold.

“Enemy Baronians,” he yelled. “On the roof, heading in. Twenty or thirty.”

“I don’t sense anything,” Daena said. “What—?”

He grabbed her shoulder and pushed his nola into her. “Yes, you do.”

The young woman’s body stiffened and her glowing green eyes widened. “Oh—my—lords.” She raised her arms. <Everyone!> Bannor felt her thoughts burst across the crowd. <Ware! Baronian enemies on the roof!>

In any of the other parties Bannor had been in recently, such a declaration would have been the worst possible thing to do, sending mewing nobles scrambling in a mad panic. Instead, steel rang and bodies glowed as silk and satin attired party guests transformed into armed combatants.

“I sense nothing,” Aarlen growled, a sword now glowing in her fist.

Tal appeared in the group next to Bannor. “Show me where the freaks are!”

Daena grabbed the burly warrior’s shoulder and pointed. <There.> The young woman’s word rang, and with that sound Bannor felt threads spin from Daena to Tal, and from Tal to Aarlen, and from them to others through the room in a constantly increasing wave of awareness.

“Shreddds,” Desiray murmured.

“Here we go again,” Wren breathed with a shake of her head.

“Bannor—” Sarai started to speak and gasped. A big hand had appeared on her shoulder. “Sorry, Arminwen, time to leave.” The voice was Senalloy’s rumbling tenor. The big woman was already dressed in the black the special forces uniform.

“Let go!” A female voice growled. Bannor realized that the huge female held a kicking and struggling Ryelle under her arm. Janai stood close to the Baronian with a hand on her belt.

Sarai looked up at Senalloy. “I won’t leave Bannor.”

“You’re pregnant, no argument. Take my belt or I carry you.”

He kissed her. “Do it.”

Sarai scowled. She took hold of Senalloy’s belt. Almost before the action was done, the four of them vanished.

“I’m glad Jan is out of the way too,” Daena said glowing eyes narrowing. “They’re already locking things down, Sen got them out just in time.”

“How is it, whenever we meet, you seem to be in the middle of a fight?” Damay said to Wren.

“Pure bad luck,” she answered with a shrug.

“Young man,” Damay said. “Let us work together.” She bowed to Daena. “I would be honored to work with you as well, Incarnate.”

Daena’s glowing green eyes were wide. The young woman had changed a lot from the frightened girl running from thugs on an alien world. Those eyes had learned to see a lot. Daena held out her hand to Damay.

He didn’t know this powerful savant, but there was no doubt that her mastery of her Nola was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. She would be a potent ally indeed. He too held out his hand.

Damay took both of their offered hands. “Dorian, Aarlen,” she raised her voice to be heard over the people rallying together in the stone chamber. “If you would be so kind to be our catalysts.” She turned to Wren. “Get the others.” Wren nodded, closed her eyes and Bannor felt the blonde savant’s mind reach out to their brothers and sisters scattered through the room. Damay looked up to the ceiling and her voice darkened. “I do believe it is time for a party.”

The growl in the woman’s voice made Bannor’s skin prickle.

“A party is it?” Aarlen said. “That’s not the Damay I know. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with Loric?”

“People change,” the elder savant said. “When Loric is at hand I will avail myself.” Even as she spoke the first of Baronians were appearing near the ceiling. To the normal eye they were completely undetectable, but to his nola they appeared as tangles of magick and life-force. He and Daena had sparked awareness through the assemblage.

Bannor didn’t know what the alien warriors expected when they attacked here, but he doubted they were prepared for the fury that met them. As each enemy hit the floor, threads of ether-lock spread out from them across the chamber like the tendrils of some energy-devouring monster, wrapping themselves around people and objects. Obviously, the Baronians felt the stealth would give them the free time to immobilize the room.

From child to elder, party-goers swarmed over the magically concealed figures. The Felspars were not a wild rabble, they struck with coordination and power; sword blows, mind thrusts, open handed attacks and spells all in close concert. Heavy bodies slammed to the floor with crashes.

Bannor heard the Baronian soldiers snarling in frustration as they were forced to change tactics to deal with a crowd that not only knew where they were, but attacked as though prepared.

He didn’t wait for the battle to swing back to the advantage of the powerful aliens. He closed his eyes and reached out to both Damay and Daena, pushing his nola into them and co-joining their powers through him. As he worked he realized it was different this time—more complete, more effective—the connections stronger and more elaborate. The Kriar energy knowledge seemed to assist, allowing him to bring the two savants into almost perfect synchronous.

Both women swayed with gasps.

Daena gripped her head. “What!? Oh my—!” The glowing green in her eyes turned a brilliant white. Sparks whirled around her limbs and the stone beneath her feet shuddered. She floated up off the floor. “Wow. You—I—we can fly!”

“Child what did—?” The elder shuddered and a fiery aura flared across the surface of her skin. “Gaea’s eyes!”

<Go,> he told them in his mind. <I’ll keep you linked and add the others in as they get back to me.>

Daena clenched her fists and spread her arms. A flare of light spread through her limbs and the silken party gown was replaced by the close fitting black fabric that she had been ‘born’ in when she joined with the pantheon lord Hella.

Bannor felt the atmosphere pulse around the girl as she leaned over and shot forward over the heads of the crowd toward the largest grouping of enemy warriors.

Shaking her head, Damay raised her hands and in a pulse of air and force shot out over the crowd in pursuit, streaks of sparkling gold trailing in her wake.

Aarlen gestured, the glowing Shaladen sword stretched out into the form of a massive jeweled glowing staff. A fierce grin on her face, she winked at him. “You heard her,” she said with a growl. “Time to party.” She rushed toward the mêlée.

Desiray touched Wren and Dorian on the shoulder. A glow spread from her hands in a sizzle of magic transforming their party garments into close-fitting battle harnesses. She did herself last, a blue-black hauberk appearing on her body like a coat of shimmering oil.

The air burned with magic and crashes filled the air. In instants, the royal chamber became a mass mêlée. The elven regiments were flooding into the wings. Wren’s father Vanidaar and her brother Azir had fought through the press and were now close enough to touch.

Bannor felt a rush of heat shoot through his body as Daena slammed into the knot of alien warriors. Powerful the girl was, but not experienced or battle savvy. She disabled one attacker with a single crushing blow that smashed him into a granite column with enough force make the room vibrate and cracks spread up the stone. From there she needed help, as had happened in Gladshiem with Bloodguard. The attackers were seasoned soldiers and they knew how to fight powerful opponents.

Fortunately, help was right behind her in the form of Damay who looked tiny compared to the massive Baronians. The little elder thrust herself directly into the exchange. Snatching up knives and forks from a nearby table, she hurled them with incredible accuracy into ears, throats, and eyes.

Bannor felt the energy and saw the surge of threads that indicated more Baronians were appearing.

It was time to find out if he could hold himself together. <Brothers—sisters,> he thought into the minds of all the savants near him. <I wish I had more time to explain. More Baronians are on their way and the others are going to need our strength.> He reached out to all of them, gathering their patterns into his mind’s eye and combining them. Pushing his nola outward he took the new skein and looped his own personal tracery through it. The resulting structure twitched under his mental grip like something alive, seven tao powers each animate in its own right.

Fire seemed to burn through him. His heart raced. Throat tight, he closed his grip and thrust the combined pattern into all his brothers and sisters.

Six savants each became themselves six savants, bodies illuminated by the power of eternity. Bannor felt the flash heat wash over him as Wren, Vanidaar, Ziedra, and Azir seemed to burst into flame with gasps. Damay and Daena on the far side of the chamber also erupted with newly focused savant energy.

Bannor heard three thuds behind him. He didn’t see the figures but he sensed and felt them. One was a pattern he recognized.

Voldrax—the Baronian commander that tried to kill them at the way-point.

“Spit!” Bannor jumped back, avoiding the bruiser’s initial grab. He was still trying to compensate for having six other savants in his head, focusing and linking their nola powers.

Damn the Garmtur, his nola could make everyone but him into war machine.

To his surprise, it was dark-clad Desiray who jumped into the path of the Baronian.

“Des!” Wren yelled.

The massive warrior gave the white-haired woman a dismissive backhand that made a ringing crack. Had she been an ordinary female, the force would have shattered her cheek and broke her neck. Instead, the power of it rocked her back a step. The woman growled and sent a fist whistling into his chest. The punch impacted with a thud and a shock that vibrated the stone underfoot. The force lifted the twenty stone brute off the floor and send him skidding backward.

With their stealth obviously not working, the Baronians revealed themselves in a sizzle of magic, a greenish aura fading from around their bodies. Dark eyes smoldering, Voldrax rubbed his chest and clenched his fists.

Damn, he didn’t want this woman to fight for him. Wren and the other three savants were still disoriented from the joining and unable to immediately join the fray. He should have considered that before doing it so unexpectedly. His own nola awareness seemed fractured. He could see the threads, but the senses of the other savants seemed to be impairing his ability to focus. Bannor struggled to take hold of Voldrax even as the giant warrior and his two guards stormed forward.

Desiray stood her ground as the monstrous Baronian raised a fist as if he would drive her into the ground like a nail.

As the brute’s hand flashed down, there was a flare of light between the white-haired woman and Voldrax. The huge warrior’s fist slammed to a stop well above Desiray’s head. A burly older man with braided gray hair had appeared between the two of them. With an upraised left hand he had caught the attack. The newcomer’s silk party trappings were torn and ripped from battle, but it was apparent he had a lot of fight left in him. Though far smaller than Voldrax he was obviously not afraid.

“Get away from my wife,” he growled. The words, just the sound, made Bannor’s skin prickle. He thrust the Baronian back with a shove.

Voldrax’s two guards were on the man in an instant, weapons shrieking from sheaths. The smaller warrior said a word and a sword appeared in his hand in a flash of red sparks. He met their attacks with a snarl and an angry toss of his head.

Voldrax snorted and started forward. Within a heartbeat, mystic metal rang and sparked as gray-haired man reacted to the addition of a third opponent. For all their size and power, the huge warriors didn’t have much affect on him, he just countered and attacked, size-stepping thrusts and driving his glowing blade for vulnerabilities. He moved with amazing fluidity and speed. Before Bannor could figure out a way to assist, one of the Baronians was down clutching a gash in his chest. Voldrax’s other second fell only instants after that.

Whoa. Who was this fellow? He thought Senalloy and Dulcere were good!

Voldrax must have been considerably more skilled than his seconds, because the gray warrior was not able to immediately defeat him. The fight went on, blood began to fly as the two opponents began to take each other’s measure and strike with greater authority.

Bannor’s head was beginning to clear. The savants near him seemed to be getting their wits about them as well.

More attackers were appearing, these newcomers did not bother with stealth, they poured from the ceiling like a rain of death.

As they dropped, the elf guardsmen summoned by the commotion fired on the only opponents they could see. Dozens of shafts lanced into the invaders, peppering their bodies as they dropped. He heard King T’Evagduran hollering orders, and saw spells flashing out.

The pandemonium outside the gates of Asgard had nothing on the chaos rising around him. He was just glad that Senalloy had gotten Sarai to safety.

He pushed toward his nola senses again and was rewarded with a flare of colors and lines that represented the thread world. He could see again. He reached toward Voldrax to abort the battle with Desiray’s husband, but six new opponents quenched any thoughts of that.

“Look out,” he yelled, stumbling back. Damn, he needed a weapon. He wasn’t going to be able to use the Garmtur effectively while boosting the powers of all the other savants.

Wren shot forward, contrails of flame streaking from her limbs. Her speed made her barely more than a blur. She left the ground and launched a kick that smashed into the face of the nearest Baronian, sending him tumbling where he crashed into the stone steps.

Azir followed his sister’s example, slamming the huge warriors with bare-handed mêlée. Vanidaar and Ziedra lashed out with blasts of magic that shredded the enemies not already engaged.

In a span of instants, the four savants defeated almost a dozen of the alien intruders. Clearing the area around them.

Wren stared down at her glowing hands. “Whoa.” She looked up at Bannor. “What did you do?”

He drew a breath. “It was a four way link up last time. This is a seven way, and as we know—Daena is a lot stronger.”

“It is unsettling,” Vanidaar said, keeping an eye on the fight.

“It’s great!” Wren’s brother Azir cheered. He pounded a fist into his palm.

“It’s making me dizzy,” Ziedra told them. “I don’t think we were meant to channel this much power. In fact, I don’t think we should be able to without burning ourselves up.”

“That’s Bannor,” Wren said. Her voice echoed with the power that was channeling. “Lord of the impossible.” She drew a breath and put a hand to her face. “Whoa. It is pretty intoxicating.” The blonde savant shook her head. She put a hand on Bannor’s shoulder. “You don’t look so good. Can you do this for very long?”

“I’d hurry,” he said.

“Good enough for me,” Wren said. “Zee, you can hit anything in the room from here. Guard Bannor would you, I’m certain he was who they were after.”

The dark-haired savant nodded. “Be careful please.”

“Father, Azir,” Wren said. “Let’s break some heads.”

“Get him,” Bannor pointed to Voldrax. “He’s the leader. We need him alive.”

Voldrax and the gray-haired warrior were oblivious to everything but themselves, swords a-blur, sparks cascading from the clash of powerfully swung mystic metal.

“Oh spit, Loric—!” Wren breathed.

The blonde savant shot forward toward the duel completely heedless of the perimeter of whirling death around the two males. She leaped up and over Loric to bring her shoulder straight into the chest of the Baronian. Like a shell launched from a catapult, Wren exploded into Voldrax. At that precise moment Loric’s blade had plunged toward the Baronian’s heart, the tip of the magic weapon struck her back. Wren cried out as a white flare of light surrounded her body.

The speed and power of Wren’s intervention drove Voldrax crashing backward. His huge body thundered to the floor and skidded into a stone column with a crunch.

Wren rolled off of huge fighter clutching at her back. “Aie aie aie!”

Sword clutched in his fist, the fierce expression on Loric’s face became one of dismay. “Oh damn, Wren!”

Bannor didn’t have time to worry about her. Using what little energy he had left he grabbed hold of Voldrax’s threads, threw several loops around him and jerked them tight.

He needn’t have worried, Azir and Vanidaar were quick to Wren’s aide. The brother sent a punishing blow into the stomach of the burly juggernaut who even after Wren’s powerful tackle was stirring. The power of the strike made the room echo, as did Voldrax’s yell of pain.

The Baronian folded around the attack even as shafts of magic from Vanidaar and Ziedra pinned him to the column. He heard both the mages growling and struggling even with the combined power of six savants shining in their bodies. With a final yell the immensely powerful creature went limp under the crushing power of their magic.

“Lords,” Ziedra muttered. “Like trying to subdue ten rhinotaurs!”

Around the room, the battle went silent for an instant as all the warriors under Voldrax’s command froze at the sight of their commander’s defeat. Obviously, that was something they had neither seen nor expected.

A yell went up from the back.

“Shield him!” Bannor yelled pointing at Voldrax.

In that instant, Bannor saw Quasar appear by Voldrax, Wren, and her brother. The four of them vanished before a withering barrage of magic and weaponry meant to obliterate the downed leader shrieked into that location.

Voldrax’s subordinates and sub-commanders, distracted by the task of preventing his capture were punished for their efforts as arrows and attacks battered them.

In a matter of a few instants more the strike force members all vanished as a group. Leaving the party chamber a smoking ruin. Injured and gasping party goers falling down in exhaustion.

Bannor fell to his knees letting loose the combining. He saw the other savants relax as they were released from the joining.

“Where did that creature go with my daughter!” Vanidaar growled. “She was injured.”

“Damn,” Loric muttered again. “It happened so fast—no time to pull my strike.”

“I didn’t see,” Aarlen said striding up. The huge pale woman was a blood splashed mess, her staff and sword still dripping with gore. She herself was covered with cuts and bruises already turning dark. If all the injuries troubled her she showed no sign of it. “What happened?”

“Wren jumped in the way at the last instant, to keep Loric from killing the commander. He was subdued, but Quasar took him.”

“Damn her!” Aarlen snarled slamming the butt of her staff against the floor.

“Who is this Quasar and why did she take my daughter?” Vanidaar growled.

“I want to know what this whole thing was about!” King T’Evagduran bellowed. The tall elf like nearly everyone in the room sported multiple injuries and bled from a couple deep gouges in his face. “Why do these ogrish creatures attack us?” He stopped to kick over the corpse of one of the slain Baronians and shook his head.

“Dom’ista it’s a long story,” Bannor said.

“Where are Our daughters?” Kalindinai asked with a growl. She too had taken a beating in the battle, her royal raiment ripped and torn by combat.

He looked around at the other people picking themselves up. Members of the honor guard were helping the injured members of the Felspar clan.

“Matradomma, Senalloy took them to safety,” he answered.

“I’m sure she’ll bring them back soon, Matradomma,” Corim said walking up with Tal at his shoulder.

<Quasar is not answering hails,> Dulcere offered, walking up to join their growing circle.

Aarlen dismissed her sword and staff with a gesture, the two powerful items fading from her hands. “The witch just wants some private time with him. That’s why she took the children as insurance.”

“Will this creature injure my children?” Euriel asked stomping up. Like Aarlen, the Aesir woman looked hardly affected by the battle though she sported many injuries.

Eclipse, the Kriar who guarded Bronawyn, stepped up with a sigh. “She would see no benefit in it,” he said. “It is as Aarlen says, she took them both to shield them from the attack and to act as insurance.”

“Can you find them, Bannor?” Vanidaar asked.

He let out a breath, and nodded. “I can sense Wren.”

“Good,” Euriel said. “You will take us to them immediately.”

He winced. “It’s not that simple.” Wren’s thread led to someplace immensely distant, somewhere beyond the gulf of stars.

Senalloy reappeared with the three elven princesses. Sarai immediately tackled him in a hug, while Janai and Ryelle fretted over their injured parents.

“Damn it, don’t do that to me again,” Sarai whispered fiercely in his ear. “I was so scared I would lose you!”

He hugged her tight. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

Sarai frowned, arms trembling as she pulling him tight against her warm body. He snuggled close, enjoying her warmth. He looked over to Senalloy. “Thanks for keeping her safe.”

The silver-haired Baronian nodded.

Cassandra had joined the group and had an arm around Loric. She, Desiray, and the other woman Dorian had gathered close together.

“I gotta tell ya,” Tal said, looking around at the devastation. “You Malanians throw a party like nobody else!”

Continued in Gaea’s Legacy: Savants Ascendant

Glossary of Term

« ^ »

—  A  —

Aesir — (also Aesirian) The name given to the Lords of Asgard. There are two clans in Gladshiem consisting of pantheon lords and their issue. There are the more well known Aesir, and their often rival brothers the Vanir.

Alostar, Damay — Eldest of the Kel’Varan’s and reputed to be the most powerful. Damay fought many epic battles against Mandrimin (c.f.) the Ta’arthak Nola (savant of matter) in her time. About 6000 years ago she fell to Aarlen Frielos in a duel of magic, she was approximately 2900 summers old at the time. It is unknown exactly how or why, but Aarlen trapped Damay’s tao essence in an amulet of shael-dal metal. It is surmised that the amulet was an experiment to create a magical item fueled by the essence of a savant. Apparently, the item was never completed. In 1091 N.I.S., Wren Kergatha came into possession of the amulet. She later resurrected Damay by rejoining her tao with a suitable body. Shortly thereafter Damay and Aarlen dueled again, this time resulting in a draw. Damay’s current whereabouts are unknown, but some sources surmise that she has returned to Starholme Prime.

See Also:  tao

Alpha — Alpha is the name given to the entity which procreated life in the body of Gaea and is thus the progenitor of the elder races that diversified to become the various forms of life throughout Eternity. Many scholars speculate that Alpha and Gaea are merely metaphors for the burgeoning of life. Others cite differently quoting texts that indicate that both Alpha and Gaea were actual creatures that pre-dated all other forms of intelligent life. The Alphaforce is the spark said to be carried by savants. This spark is sometimes referred to as a ‘tao’.

See Also:  tao

arminwen — Elvish. Respectful way to address a princess when your caste and rank are inferior.

arwen — Elvish. Respectful way to address a princess when your caste and rank are superior. Queen Kalindinai would address Princess Liandra Kergatha as “Arwen Liandra”.

See Also:  titles/honorifics, T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

ascendant — Term coined by Bannor Starfist to describe savants who have access to their full immortal powers. “Ascending” can take place in one of three ways. The first (and intended) way is when a savant alpha joins with the pantheon lord who is their beta body. Daena Sheento joins with Hella to become the first ascendant in ‘Neath Odin’s Eye. As an ascendant she had the physical potential of a pantheon lord coupled with the mastery of a universal force.

The second way ascendance can take place are when a savant uses their tao-form or astral-body to overlap a creature with immort characteristics. Wren Kergatha did this with both Desiray Illkaren Felspar and with her mother Euriel Kergatha. In the events of Gaea’s Legacy, several savants do this with bodies created expressly for this purpose by Marna Solaris.

The third and last way a savant can ascend is by having their original physical body modified to take on immort characteristics. This happens to Bannor during the course of Gaea’s Legacy after his tao-inhabited body created by Marna is destroyed and his original body is heavily damaged.

Ascendants gain power over time and with experience. Daena, though her body was technically inferior to those possessed by the created ascendants was more powerful because her tao was in complete synchronis with her body.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, tao

avatar — A creature who has been bonded to another through avatarism (c.f.)

—  B  —

Baronian — A race of created warriors whose true origins remain unknown. They are humanoid in nature but appear to be the product of an extensive breeding and isolation program. Baronian warriors and mages are renowned for their physical endurance, pain tolerance, and mental faculties. In addition to simply being physically strong and durable, Baronians also possess the ability to metabolize raw energy which can be used to power spells or even heal wounds.

Accounts of Baronian culture is that they are a slave race to a group of beings known only as the ‘masters’. Within the Baronian hierarchy, females are primarily considered chattel, with certain prominent members able to earn free status through outstanding service to the various war causes. What little is known about the Baronians was gleaned when a party of Protectorate warriors accompanied Vatraena Marna Solaris and her aides to the Kriar Homeworld of the Karanganoi. There they discovered a force of Baronians had over-run and enslaved the entire Kriar civilization. In return for information and cooperation, Tal Falor made an agreement with a group ten Baronian slave women to help them escape. Tal kept his word and these slaves were broken free. These females now work in the employ of Isis. Notably among this group is a female warmage named Luthice who is the blood sister of Senalloy who Corim Vale frees from Rakaar.

See Also:  Falor, Talorin {Tal}, kriar

belkirin — Combat grade rank in the Kriar military equal to a commander. See also Kriar Ranks.

See Also:  kriar, kriar ranks

Bertrand Kirnath Valharesh — See Vinax, Koass.

biophase — A form of energy that can be tapped by the proper magical rituals. This energy is often used to dispel fatigue and reinforce the body. Mages utilize it to boost the efficiency of their spells.

Utilization of biophase has a strong euphoric effect that makes its use dangerous. Despite the hazards, biophase is one of the commonly manipulated powers in “carnal energies”.

Blackwater — Town in the north-eastern reaches of the Barony of Tenax. The town sits at the foot of the pass that leads through the Radigast Mountains.

bloodguard — The “Bloodguard” is a the name of a group of created Valkyrie’s who serve Odin. The Bloodguard and the “Chosen” sisterhoods are bitter rivals in their service to the Aesir.

bloodwood — A wood characterized by its reddish color and fragrant odor. Mostly a decorative material.

—  C  —

cada — A common Kriar acknowledgement, usually in response to ‘Saeba’ c.f. It’s meaning is ‘I am well’ or ‘fine’.

See Also:  kriar

chimera — A monster found in various parts of the realms. It is a composite winged creature with three heads, that of a goat, great cat, and serpent.

chronal — Used to describe anything that relates to time or event sequences.

chronon — A standardized unit of time which coincides with the time it takes an electron to complete one circuit around the nucleus of an atom. Roughly 1038 chronons occur per second.

Coormeer — A small Kingdom to the south and east of Ivaneth. Coormeer is known for its moderate climate and the fertileness of the hills spread through the heart of its territory. Coormeer makes most of its income as a nation that barters trade. They have a large seaport and a sizeable overland freight industry. Cormeer is also known for its vineyards, and kingdoms from all over Titaan import the different wines made there.

A few notable figures have dealings with or are part of Coormeer. The Justicar Sir Laramis De’Falcone hails from there and his family owns one of the major vineyards. Lord Mazerak Duquesne the savant of storms also hailed from Coormeer. Lastly, Princess Janai T’Evagduran of Malan holds the title of Baroness in Coormeer, and owns extensive lands there as a widow of one of the Kingdom’s nobles.

See Also:  De’Falcone, Laramis

Corresont, Senalloy Moirae — Baronian battle-nurse originally serving Rakaar Hespian Steelsheen. Senalloy’s true origins remain a mystery, however it is certain that she spent quite some time on Karanganoi homeworld (c.f.) gaining the trust and confidence of the Kriar indigenous there. She speaks the Kriar high tongue fluently which requires some ten to twenty cycles of study. Her knowledge of Kriar technology indicates a close relationship with someone possessing engineering skills.

As a battlenurse, Senalloy has extensive training in the treatment of magical and mundane wounds. As with most Baronians she has a fair degree of both magical and martial training. Even in her weakened state, she proved herself more than a match for Meridian Arcturan and would have killed him had Rakaar not interfered with her.

Baronian age is difficult to judge, and their race has a nominal lifespan measured close to five thousand cycles. Usually by the time they reach the upper limits of their effective life spans they have gone through renewal or otherwise extended their lives. Senalloy’s confidence, knowledge, and ability make her at least a millennium old. She could however be far older. Her blood sister Luthice (c.f.) who works as a covert operative for Isis is speculated to be close to 30,000 cycles old. If this is true, then it is likely that Senalloy is close to that age and thus ranked as a member of the elder elite.

See Also:  kriar

Corwin — Kingdom on the western border of Ivaneth. Biggest Kingdom (in terms of territory) on the continent of Sharikaar. Corwin is also the oldest settlement in Sharikaar. Corwin’s capital is Corwin city, a sea port with a population of just under 2 million people.

See Also:  Sharikaar

Cosmodarus — Two major cities in the Ring Realms bare the Cosmodarus name. The great city wherein the goddess Isis rules is often called Cosmodarus the city of magic. Another city bearing the same name is in the ribbon realms of the purple plains. It too is called Cosmodarus the city of magic. It is rumored that at one time Isis lived or hailed from the Cosmodarus out in border realms. She may have simply brought the name with her and forgot the other existed. There is often confusion when a person claims to be from Cosmodarus, as both places are home to some of the most skilled and talented adventurers in the Ring Realms. Wren Kergatha was born in the ribbon realm’s Cosmodaris. The Kergatha family are the manor lords of Cosmodarus.

crunchfruit — A sweet juicy fruit with smooth red or green skins. Green ones tend to have a sour flavor. On earth, if someone saw you with a bag of these, they’d ask you for one of your apples.

cyber-unit — A cyber-unit is a portable computer typically carried in the field a cyber usually has an uplink to a more powerful ‘true’ cyber on Homeworld, but if communications are impaired they can function in stand-alone (non-networked) mode. They do not have personalities or any of the other features typical of Kriar organic ‘cyber’ life-forms.

See Also:  kriar

—  D  —

D’Shar, T’Gor — Active member of the Shael Dal wielding the Shaladen blade Korvel.

See Also:  shaladen

D’Tarin, Algernon — Active member of the Shael Dal wielding the Shaladen blade Warstar. One of the nine Lords of Ivaneth, and master of the East wood. One of the core members of the Band of the Crescent Moon dating back to their first treks in Silissia. Algernon has one daughter, Val’Siden, currently married to Bertram Tarrantil.

See Also:  shaladen

dasta — Kriar word that has no literal translation. It is used interchangeably in context when referring to named cliques, organizations, or groups of people. Dasta Daergon was the political affiliation of followers loyal to Daergon Surr. In another instance, Dasta Fabrista is the entire host of people and creatures who live on the Fabrista Homeworld.

See Also:  kriar

De’Falcone, Irodee — Myrmigyne of Jhandris’Kul clan, follower of Nethra, and wife of Laramis De’Falcone. Her maiden name is Irodee Ki’Targallae. In Myrmigyne, the Ki suffix before the proper name means adopted sister. Irodee is a long time friend of Wren Kergatha. Irodee is the biggest woman ever born among the clans, measuring just a hair under 22 hands tall and weighing almost 17 stone she is nothing short of imposing. Irodee’s natural mother, Tolumbra Skyesteel, died when the girl was still young, thus she spent a most of her youth in the care of various foster mothers. Gawky and clumsy because of her quick growth, she found growing up in the clans difficult first because of her inability to compete with her sisters then later because of her size.

Ess Targallae, the sister of Myrmigyne Queen, adopted Irodee and changed her lineage from Skyesteel to Ki’Targallae when she was early into her teens after the girl proved her bravery and commitment to the clan. As the protégé of the Queen’s sister, Irodee learned quickly and developed into a skilled warrior. In addition to being one of foremost warriors in the clan, Ess Targallae is one of the best educated. She tutored Irodee and eventually sent the girl to the best schools in Malan and Ivaneth. It was while in the schools that Irodee truly flourished. She became a favorite amongst the teachers, a gentle giant with a caring disposition and a thirst for knowledge. She graduated with honors from two universities, and holds advanced certificates in language and history. She speaks six languages fluently: Myrmigyne, common, sea trade, both the Elf High Tongue and Dikeeni, and Dwarven.

While she is highly intelligent, Irodee is somewhat uncomfortable in letting it show. She prefers instead to play ‘dumb’ and often speaks in broken fragments like a barbarian. After marrying Laramis she confused many of her friends in the way she only showed her mastery of language to her husband. When not in his presence she lapses back to her fragmented speech patterns. Irodee is thirty summers old and has a five summer old daughter. Shortly after the birth of their daughter, Irodee accepted the ki’succorund (voluntary avatarism) for Ukko.

See Also:  De’Falcone, Laramis, Myrmigyne

De’Falcone, Laramis — Appointed high Justicar of Ivaneth and Malan. Originally hailing from Coormeer (a kingdom in the south of Sharikaar). Laramis is an exemplary knight of the order of Ukko. He is swordsman of extraordinary skill, and veteran of many conflicts. During the events of Reality’s Plaything, Laramis is 32 summers old. Laramis is married to Irodee, a Myrmigyne of the Jhandris’Kul clan. Laramis and Irodee have a five summer old daughter named Marta. It is revealed by the end of Reality’s Plaything that Laramis is a ki’succorund avatar of Ukko.

See Also:  De’Falcone, Irodee, Myrmigyne, Sharikaar

demon — A generic term referring to any of a number of outer planes dwelling creatures created and utilized by the pantheon lords to wage war and intimidate lesser creatures.

dolandil — A fine vintage of wine found only in Malan. Dolandil stock is the personal stores of wine held by the King and Queen.

dom’ista — Elvish honorific. Proper form of address for the King. The translation is ‘Father Star’—or ‘Stellar Father’. In this regard it is similar to the common Term—“sire”.

doppelgänger — A created creature indigenous to the outer planes. If credence can be given the Dedriad, Hecate had a large part in their devising. Doppelgängers are however encountered in the desolate fringe territories of the realms.

draconians — The dragon race. In Gladshiem there are enough dragons to form a “community” structure. Tymoril and Kegara the two dragons which accompany Bannor on his adventures refer to dragonkind as a collective community.

See Also:  dragon

dragon — These magical reptiles take many forms, colors, and sizes and live throughout the Ring Realms. What more can be said about them that whole volumes of material haven’t addressed’

drek — Drek (along with dren) are slang terms in the Ring Realms which refer to less than desirable material. A common usage: The drek has hit the windmill.

dren — Dren (along with drek) are slang terms in the Ring Realms that refer to undesirable material. A common usage: That’s a bunch of dren!

See Also:  drek

dwarves —

Dykreeni — The dykreeni are an elven offshoot that live underground. They are not dark-skinned like the drow, and do not suffer living in the light. They however possess many traits common to both the high-elves and the Drow. It is thought that perhaps they are actually the result of an unlikely coupling between a high-elf and a Drow.

—  E  —

elder — Used to describe creatures (usually humanoids) that have lived far longer than normal human life span. Any creature with more than 500 cycles of living is considered an elder. Many elves fall into this category.

elemental — In the broadest sense a creature that is manifestation or embodiment of one of the four elemental forces (stone, air, water, fire). Note that this extension is more or less metaphorical. Races such as Djinni and Efreeti are considered elementals (air and fire respectively). What gives them this distinction is their mastery of magicks which manipulate their respective element.

Elf — Elves are a race of creatures seen throughout magically endowed worlds of the Ring Realms. It is popularly believed they are the descendants of the elder race called the Silcanna (also known as the silver elves). The patron of the elves, Carellion Lothlarian, is rumored to not be a pantheon lord but is instead one of the Silcanna. This has not be substantiated however. The Elf race is noted for the longevity of its members and their close relationship to magic and nature. The elves themselves are split into several distinct hereditary branches (sub-races) that each have their own language and customs. These are the Gray-elves, the High-elves, Wood-elves (faeries), Mountain or ‘Valley’ elves, and Sea-elves.

There is no particular racial bias or prejudices between these races and their dialects are derivative enough from each other that all of them can understand and communicate at a rudimentary level. Of the five, the aquatic semi-amphibious Sea elves are the furthest removed from the original hereditary strain and by necessity are the group that has the least interaction with both other elves and humans.

Elves are typified as having the same approximate stature as humans, but having a tendency to be slimmer and more fine boned. Their ears and eyes are slightly larger in proportion to their faces than is typical for a human. The ear cartilage is upswept and pointed, this trait being most noticeable in Wood-elves. The eyes of elves have a luminous phosphorescent quality that is noticeable even in daylight. This ‘glowing’ quality enables elves to have exceptional vision at night, being able to resolve reasonable details in approximately half the light necessary for human viewing. Elven vision is tuned to longer ranges (being able to resolve at 40 feet what a human does at 20). This trait is at the sacrifice of close-up vision. As a consequence, Elven script tends to be quite large and their books rather thick. They often employ vision aides when it is necessary to read smaller print in any volume.

The other characteristic of elves is their lifespan which is typically over five hundred cycles. The gray elves are the most long lived of elves, their lifespans extending well beyond two millennia. In fact, it is unknown exactly how long they do live because few that become great elders ever die of natural causes.

elven — Of or being related to Elves. see Elf.

elves — Plural of Elf. see Elf.

elvish — The language of Elves. Elves have several distinct dialects, most notable among these being the high tongue spoken by the gray elf nobility. The most widely spoken dialect is called Dikeen or Dikeeni which simply means ‘dialogue’ or ‘speech’. The various tribes of wood, sea, and mountain elves speak variants of Dikeeni.

eternals — The seventh generation Eternals were evolved for the purpose of fighting of invasions of ‘foreign bodies’ and the cancerous infestation of germane life (temporal ‘trouble makers’). Each entity was imbued with complete mastery over a certain element, energy or power, and lesser control over other forms.

Since the matrix provided more raw power than even than Eternals could control, the eternals were given the ability to surrogate their powers to other creatures. This surrogation is commonly referred to as avatarism. This same technique is practiced by the deities of the outer planes, and in some instances by grand magi. The surrogates of the eternals were dubbed the ‘Shael Dal’. The number of surrogates each Eternal can have is unknown. The time guardians, who also possess this power, and have been known to have as many of sixty-one functioning surrogates at one time. See Eternity. See also time guardians.

Roster

Name: Koass Vinax

Title: Prime Commander

Shaladen: Sharonsheen

Power: Reality

Name: Foross Kerall

Title: Strategic Commander

Shaladen: Stellaraac

Power: Shape Shifting

Name: Nethra Argos

Title: Tactical Commander

Shaladen: Nova

Power: Space

Name: Garn Ellon

Title: Tactical Leader

Shaladen: Warstar

Power: Time

Name: Sroth Mephista

Title: Covert Ops Leader

Shaladen: Korvel

Power: Life Energy

Name: Areth Jalt

Title: Intelligence Ops

Shaladen: Starsong

Power: Sound

Name: Aurra Levon

Title: Psych Tactics

Shaladen: Starwind

Power: Mind/Control

Name: Yi Esperantil

Title: Chronal specialist

Shaladen: Krelstar

Power: Time

Name: Zarthel Benwarr

Title: Magic/Tech spc

Shaladen: Pulsar

Power: Mind/Forces

Name: Jarella Kepsforia

Title: Security specialist

Shaladen: Cataract

Power: Dimensions

Name: *Culavera Sajaer

Title: Tactical specialist

Shaladen: Jemfire

Power: Reality/energy

Name: **Leto

Title: Satieroth Tactical specialist

Shaladen: Cybersong

Power: Fire/energy

*Culavera is one of the oldest living beings in the universe, and the only creature surviving of the third generation of the Protectorate. Her powers are in actuality greater than those possessed by the prime commanders. Unfortunately, she cannot exert herself at those levels for very long.

**Leto is a product of the fifth generation of the protectorate, and, like Culavera, much older than the rest of their peers. Leto suffers from energy ‘seizures’ as a result of not being sufficiently synchronized with the eternal’s power matrix.

Roster of Shael Dal (surrogates)

Name: Koass Vinax

Title: Prime Commander

Shaladen: Sharonsheen

Surrogate(s): Megan Vinax

Name: Foross Kerall

Title: Strategic Commander

Shaladen: Stellaraac, Snowfire*

Surrogate(s): Aarlen Frielos, Beia Targallae, Corim Vale

Name: Nethra Argos

Title: Tactical Commander

Shaladen: Nova

Surrogate(s): Talorin Falor

Name: Garn Ellon

Title: Tactical Leader

Shaladen: Warstar

Surrogate(s): Algernon D’Tarin

Name: Sroth Mephista

Title: CovertOps Leader

Shaladen: Korvel, Swiftwind*, Blightscythe*, Flameripper*

Surrogate(s): T’Gor D’Shar, Tigress D’Shar, Vulcindra Skybane, Suda Nightrhmer

Name: Areth Jalt

Title: Intelligence Ops

Shaladen: Starsong

Surrogate(s): Arabella

Name: Aurra Levon

Title: Psych Tactics

Shaladen: Starwind

Surrogate(s): Elsbeth Crowninshield

Name: Yi Esperantil

Title: Chronal specialist

Shaladen: Krelstar

Surrogate(s): Adwena Swiftwing

Name: Zarthel Benwarr

Title: Magic/Tech spc

Shaladen: Pulsar, Darkbane*, Golnir*

Surrogate(s): Zedar Cloudseeker, Aleesha Cloudseeker, Bertram Terrantil

Name: Jarella Kepsforia

Title: Security spc

Shaladen: Cataract

Surrogate(s): Gwenafra Tristar

Name: Culavera Sajaer

Title: Tactical spc

Shaladen: Jemfire

Surrogate(s): Terra Karlin-Falor

Name: Leto Satieroth

Title: Tactical spc

Shaladen: Cybersong

Surrogate(s): Damrosil Terranath

*Shaladen names so marked are “honorary” imbued weapons.

**Honorary shaladens added for special field inductions that occur during the events of the Gaea’s Legacy arc which occurs in 1110 N.I.S

See Also:  D’Tarin, Algernon, Falor, Talorin {Tal}, sharonsheen, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Eternity — The name ‘Eternity’ is only a concept. However, it is popularly addressed as a living, breathing creature, and is often worshipped as a god. Eternity itself is actually a composite consciousness. It is the pooled psychic resonances of all living things. It is suspected that, after the first expansion, outside influences planted the seeds that would eventually develop into the super-consciousness that is Eternity.

One speculation points to a “Father” and “Mother” force (Alpha and Geia) as being the originators of these seeds. These two beings are cited throughout the records made during the early development of the Protectorate, but their actual presence is never recorded. These two creatures are also cited as the progenitors of the First Ones, the race from which the original stock, and many later generations of universal protectors originated.

During the earliest stages of evolution, Eternity was little more than an infinitely large amoeba with a few basic responses. The thoughts of the myriad forms of life that were evolving began to etch neural paths on this receptive blank slate. At some point, the populations of life grew large enough that the resonances activated the ‘seeds’. These twelve gigantic gems began to pick up and enhance the neural responses, and themselves take on the sophistications necessary for stimulus and response.

As Eternity evolved, lifeforces were drawn into the matrix of gems. A residual imprint of these first primitive creatures created the first evolutionary steps in Eternity’s progress toward awareness.

A billion cycles ago, both Eternity and life had diversified to a point where major changes could be undergone. During these changes, creatures began to be physically drawn into the matrix. From that point, these creatures became Eternity. The composite awareness saw all of time and space as a body. The body lacked defense mechanisms, and this fusion of living and unliving essences could sense wounds that threatened the health of ‘the body’.

Forces brought the ‘seeds’ to a central ‘womb’ to focus the consciousness. With this centralization, further powers became realized, and development increased in speed. Hosts were cultivated from the vastness of evolving creatures; these would be the anti-bodies that would attack and destroy infestations, and heal wounds.

The matrix continued to assimilate living creatures; its power multiplying as it grew.

Initially, twenty-four hosts came into being; two were linked to each seed. These hosts were incubated, forged, and evolved to fulfill special roles in the universal defense. These were the first Guardians.

These first creatures were far less refined than the Eternals and Guardians that evolved later. They did have a purpose and a design. They built defenses around the womb, and created the pocket dimension Siderous Chronous.

These first defenders oversaw the choosing of their predecessors. They learned ways to make them stronger and more durable, having longer life-spans and broader capabilities.

The second generation Guardians were more in tune with the matrix, capable of tapping into its now-immense powers themselves, physically and mentally superior to their parent races. Their life-spans were greatly extended, some ten times that of their parent races. These were the generation of savants that would eventually shape the ‘seed-womb’ into Eternity’s Heart. The ‘seeds’ were faceted, and refined, to amplify their consciousness-projecting powers. They amassed the knowledge and powers to build defenders far more advanced than themselves. At this time, the defenders were broken into two groups: The savants and the warriors. The savants were to evolve mentally, with consciousness that extended through time and space. The warriors would tap directly into the cosmic forces now funneling through the matrix.

The Protectorates third generation was fraught with disappointments. Many forms of life did not survive the rigorous incubation processes, or the radical alterations in their physical and mental structures. The projects of this generation were shelved as too ambitious after 47 of 48 subjects died through body failure or instability. The sole survivor (Culavera) was stasised as a borderline case, and took part later in the scaled-down mutations.

By the time the scaled-down projects were underway, the second generation Guardians were nearing the end of their lives. The survivor of generation three, and two other volunteers, underwent the fourth generation treatments. All three came through alive, but mentally shattered. Only Culavera, who was the result of the far more ambitious 3rd generation group, was salvageable for further treatment. Culavera was put into stasis pending further review.

Three of the second generation guardians had died by the time the fifth generation process went into affect. One volunteer (Leto) went through the process and survived physically and mentally intact, but undershot expectations for the desired matrix synthesis. The subject was put in stasis for review by his predecessors.

All but three of the second generation guardians were dead when the sixth evolution forging was undertaken. Five subjects underwent the rigorous process, and all survived. Only one second generation guardian survived to see the seventh evolution, which birthed five time Guardians and ten Eternals. He died before the final annealing of the subjects was completed.

The seventh generation Eternals and Guardians was a near perfect synthesis of power, longevity, and durability. Possessing hardened mindsets, expanded mental power and flexibility, they evolved into the Eternals and Guardians known today, about 10 million cycles ago.

ether — The somewhat dated notion of a fundamental fabric that binds matter together—in other words the vacuum where things AREN’T. (The author notes that its a dated concept in light of quantum theory. However, since most of the readers don’t have a doctorate in physics—we’ll stick with easier concepts.)

etherlock — An etherlock is caused when a time-driver, mage, or device causes the probability fields in a specific area to become static. Essentially all matter in the target area is forced to assume the same inertia, temporal phase, and energy potential as designated by the ‘lock’. This has the effect of rooting an area in time and space absolute to either a specific set of coordinates or a given vector. The etherlock prevents any kind of matter or time transference within its confines. The process takes a tremendous amount of power, and is the most demanding discipline practiced by a time-diver.

—  F  —

Fabrista — The race of Kriar occupying the ‘Fabrista’ Homeworld.

See Also:  kriar

Falconhall — The name of the citadel where Aarlen Frielos is reputed to have lived as a child.

Falor, Talorin {Tal} — Talorin Falor is one of the more storied figures in the Ring Realms, a warrior with a truly mythical ability to find himself in the ‘hotspots’ of legends in the making. Tal’s history is a complex knot of twists and turns that involves many enterprises and tragedies. After a few seasons spent treasure hunting, Tal retired while still young to invest his gold and become a businessman. He ended up in the unlikely role as the proprietor of a brothel, an enterprise he shared with his adventuring partner Kaas Windsbane. The two men, while running a house of ill repute, were known as the ‘softest touches in town’. They never bound their girls to contracts, nor did they ask more than a token percentage of any fees collected. In fact, the two men even helped their ‘girls’ get ‘legitimate’ work should the seamy life no longer appeal. Perhaps it was this low-pressure approach that made their business so successful. The endeavor was not to last, Tal grew bored and started looking for adventure again. He took up with king Tradeholm’s eastern front regulars as an experienced captain. It was during this tour of duty that he met and fell in love with an Elven woman named Deirde Silkere. Tal continued his borderland tour and kept house with Deirde for several seasons. What might have been an idyllic life for the warrior turned tragic when raiding parties from the east realm overran several villages and cities along the border. Tal and the troops under his command were quick to respond, and over a period of days drove back the enemy. It was during this conflict that Tal showed mercy to one of the enemy commanders. An act of altruism which would see an entire village of elves sacked as revenge, and result in the loss of his wife of only a few seasons. This experience would harden the man for the many adventures to come.

After this harsh lesson, Tal’s tactics and demeanor took on a darker tone, the bitterness over his loss one not quickly forgotten or left behind. He went back to active adventuring and campaigning now in a more serious vein. It was shortly after that he met up with members of the Band of the Crescent Moon, and learned more of the Death Spectacles run by Meridian Arcturan. He met Beia Targallae and T’Gor D’Shar and began assisting them in shutting down the arenas. It was during this time that Tal began adding to his fighting skills, learning to combat the arena pit fighters on their own ground. He began studying and mastering the harsh art of the Dan Sadad.

During the cycles that followed Tal would be involved in the recovery of the amulet of Tarkimaar, he would fight all manner of creatures from adamantium golems to skellar. He would take part in the revival of the Eternals slain by Garfang, and help organize many of the quests to recover the Shaladen swords. He himself would recover the shaladen blade Warstar. He would foray repeatedly in the cities of Dream Merchants and even fight the rogue elements belonging the deposed Kriar leader Daergon Surr.

Tal’s hard heart would soften and their would be romantic interludes with Desiray Illkaren (then single) and Dominique Ariok. However, it was a fellow Shael Dal, Terra Karlin whom he often adventured with that eventually captured his eye and heart. After a courtship of several seasons, they would become the second married couple in the Shael Dal (T’Gor and Tigress being the first).

Tal’s adventures would continue. He became a key figure in the Shael Dal, the indomitable spirit to succeed against all odds. He would prove instrumental in several missions including a special cooperative mission with the Fabrista Kriar to Karanganoi homeworld, where they would learn of the Baronians and their mysterious ‘masters’.

Tal remains active in the Shael Dal and few would dispute his being their spiritual core. He and his wife Terra continue their efforts to remove all traces of the Arcturan death spectacles. Tal created several schools for adventurers, that serve as sources of income as well as recruiters for the various causes that he takes part in.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, kriar, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Felspar Clan — The structure of the Felspar clan is a complicated enough subject to merit its own entry. Loric Felspar’s permissiveness, the pervasiveness of telepathy, the extended life span of immorts, and promiscuousness created by the ability to shape change and empathically “reverb” (see empathic reverb. ) have created a tangled knot of a family tree that would have the most dedicated genealogist weeping. The root of the family’s complexity primarily comes from the three house matriarchs: Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Desiray Illkaren, and Dorian Degaba Ishtarvariku. Immediately, one wonders why Dorian is included on this list because she is not married to Loric. Dorian went through a permanent gender change. At an earlier point in her life, she was a man, Gondor Degaba. During that time she married Cassandra (technically, she is still married to her?). So before this explanation starts, it’s already taken on complications!

Three Squared To understand the primary complexity one must understand that our three matriarchs are really not gender specific. They can be female or male, able to sire or birth. This is exactly what has happened. Dorian has fathered (or foathrad) children with both Cassandra and Desiray. Each of them has done the same with her and each other for a total of six combinations as depicted below:

==========================

(f) Dorian + Cassandra

(f) Dorian + Desiray

(f) Cassandra + Desiray

(f) Cassandra + Dorian

(f) Desiray + Cassandra

(f) Desiray + Dorian

==========================

There are children from each of these unions. In the “official” histories, these children retained the sirname of the foathra. This created unnecessary complications in creating a chronicle, so the sirname Felspar was attributed to all of them. One can see this issue from both sides, saying the making the name the same complicates differentiating who belongs to whom. Granted. However, tracking fifty odd names is hard enough without trying to untangle relationships at the same time!

Take it from the top Since Loric is the house patriarch, his direct descendants should be listed first. With two wives he has two lines of inheritance:

Loric as Sire

Cassandra Desiray

===============

+ Celek Farveth

+ Lorrik

+ Radian

===============

+ = Triplets

As one can see, Loric’s part of the tree is quite modest (in comparison to the rest). It’s from this part on that the mind begins to swim:

Matriarchal Interrelationships

Cassandra as Sire

Desiray Dorian

========== ==========

Caldorian+ Kassandra+

Sebenreth+ Dorrian+

========== ==========

Desiray as Sire

Cassandra Dorian

========== ==========

Maarina Darin’Kel*

Eviria*

========== ==========

Dorian as Sire

Cassandra Desiray

========== ==========

Annawen + Leandra

Cassin +

========== ==========

+ denotes identical twins

* denotes paternal twins

One might note that there is an inordinate occurrence of twins in this family. That is neither accidental or natural… in most of the cases the condition was egged on by magic.

But wait there’s more… Further complications are added to the tree when Dorian takes a husband (Brin Ishtarvariku) and Desiray takes a second husband (Bertram Terrantil). Bertram was already married to Thamara Narrimar. Add to this, dalliances with two Valkyries (Megan and Adwena), Marna Solaris (the Kriar matriarch), and the pantheon lord Isis. Now, the picture takes on truly Dionysian characteristics. ((We haven’t even gotten to grand children yet!!!)) Was everyone sleeping around??? Well, in a word…yes. Didn’t this cause problems…??? Well, of course. Jealousy and drama abound. For those following along, do remember that most of these people are in their 70’s and 80’s. At the time when most of the stories of the Ring Realms take place Dorian and Cassandra are celebrating the 50th anniversary of their marriage. Despite this advanced age, through various magicks these individuals are still physically in their 20’s and as typically randy as beautiful talented brilliant people usually are.

Another factor to consider is that everyone discussed so far has telepathic ability. This factor alone instills a level of trust and permissiveness not experienced in ordinary mundane relationships. Partners don’t have to wonder whether they are still loved—the emotion can be discerned, confirmed, and so on. Also, its really really tough to cheat in house of telepaths. It is far easier (and safer) to get permission than it is to ask forgiveness. [Granted, this is the opposite of how it ordinarily goes… but you’ve probably never had a loremage with immense magical powers pissed at you. She will make you pay for your transgressions. She has the imagination, the desire, and inclination to make life intensely uncomfortable. Worse, there’s nowhere you can run… she can teleport, and she’ll find you…] Anyways, over the course of five decades sharing was not an uncommon occurrence. It helps to understand that at different times Desiray, Cassandra, and Dorian each maintained separate identities as males that essentially had their own distinct relationships. Ah, the benefits (complexities) of shape shifting…

Miscellaneous Couplings

Dorian / Brin

====================

Rindar+

Jaraed+

(f) Desiray / Adwena

====================

Siriena

(f) Dorian / Megan

====================

Ralani

Silvia

With fifty cycles invested in relationships, children are bound to find partners, get married and have children. In this genealogy, you will see a number of female / female marriages. This is something of a side affect of the interrelationship of the matriarchs. Shape changing creates a lot of potential in partners… in a world of magic and star hopping, the choices are many and varied. However, it just works out that sometimes the best person to understand a woman is another woman… and when that woman can also be a man (or the partners can take turns in the male role… ) the imaginative readers can fill in the blanks…

2nd Generation Couplings

============

(1)Cassin +

Drucilla (f)

============

(None yet)

============

(2)Annawen

+ Sindra (f)

============

(None yet)

============

(3)Caldorian

+ Bronawyn

============

Cassopia

DonaRae

============

(4)Sebenreth

+ Jolandrin

============

(None yet)

============

(5)Darin’kel

+ Gwynned

============

Xander

Tristam

============

(6)Everia +

Luthice

============

(None yet)

(1): If there can be said to be any contention between the twins it is grounded on the issue of children. There has been considerable pressure from Grandma Frielos to see some bouncing half-Kriar / half-Teritaani babies. However, both Drucilla and Sindra being playgirls (boys?) they really aren’t child-rearing types. Being independently-wealthy ultra-pampered grand elders, the likelihood of them changing a diaper is all but non-existent. Cassin in particular is adamant that BOTH parents should be INVOLVED in child rearing. Drucilla of course wants Cassin to bare the burden of carrying the baby to term (she’s MUCH too busy to be bothered with being pregnant…) that is the second part of the issue. There are other considerations that further complicate the discussion. It remains a sore point, and is the source of the first real friction this long running relationship has experienced.

(2): Annawen is the twin upon whom the real pressure is being applied by Aarlen to have children (mostly because she’s more easily swayed than Cassin). It is also because Annawen has a stronger desire for children. However, she agrees with Cassin (though to a lesser degree) about the issue of involvement of the parents in the raising of the children. Both sisters are aware of the cold and loveless upbringings fostered in the Frielos family, which is a stark contrast to the extremely close-knit Felspar Clan with multiple mothers fostering overlapping affection on all the children. It is that paradigm by which they gauge how their own families should be raised. Something that would be difficult with only partial participation of the parents.

(3): The decision to bare children was sparked largely by Bronawyn. The dark Silissian princess has always taken issue with her in-law Gwynned, the nosy, judgmental, stuck-up, cleric of Isis living down the hall. This contention grew out of a basic argument of how such a “plain ordinary commoner” would rate one of the most beautiful men a woman could set eyes on i.e. Darin’kel (whom Bronawyn had always fancied but was never able to get the attention of). The ongoing upwomanship between these two would make a good story thread in a soap- opera. One of the requirements of Gwynned’s allegiance to the church of Isis was to bear at least one child, and teach them in the ways of the church. Gwynned and Darin were having problems conceiving. During one sharp- tongued dinner conversation Bronawyn was nettling Gwynned, suggesting that the reasons for their problems was simple frigidity and her not being “woman” enough to bear children. There were undertones about boyishness, etc. This trading of barbs escalated, with the remark about “wondering what a reptile knew about having babies anyway—they lay eggs after all…” Through a course of events one could only attribute to soap opera dynamics it became a race to see who could conceive first. Gwynned had a head start, but Bronawyn was determined to show her up… reptile indeed! Bronawyn did conceive first, a fact which she lorded over Gwynned for some time thereafter. This was also a source of kidding between the brothers about who had more of the “right stuff” but it was not taken as seriously as between the two women.

(4): Seb and Jol are a very laid-back pair. Jolandrin is a simple girl used to being in the wilderness and has still has a way to go develop the sophistication of the others in this wild family. She has a good heart though and plenty of libido. There’s no rush (in their minds) even though momma Desiray has been dropping strong hints that her other son should get off his duff and make some grand kids!

(5): The relationship between Gwynned and Darin’kel is epic in its own right. Starting with a heated conflict between Gwynned and Everia. Everia is VERY possessive of her brother and had no desire at all to share her paternal twin with anyone—period. Add to this that the marriage between Gwynned and Darin was obligatory (it was ordered by the church after Darin was admitted to the ranks of the Sovereigns). This thorny situation was made worse by Gwynned’s dismay and dismissal of the Felspar clan’s “perverted” family interrelations. Carrying around those kind of thoughts in a house full of telepaths is bound to cause friction—which it did. Gwynned finally lightened up after she was given telepathy and began to understand the intricacies of shape-changing and empathic reverbs.

(6): The relationship between the Baronian war-witch and Everia is a complex knot involving her brother Darin, Luthice, and a number of events that would take several chapters of a book to do proper service to. Simply, it was a relationship that went hot-cold-hot-cold-hot-cold—something that was a source of confusion and frustration for Everia and simple irritation for Luthice. In general, Baronians lead cold passionless lives of duty with little other emotions save anger and blood-lust to warm their emotional pallet. Being creatures of war they have strong libido and a desire to reproduce. In any event, Desiray had approached Luthice to see if she could receive some tutelage in spying arts. (Elders who are great mages are not uncommon, but elders with vast experience in espionage are considerably more rare.) Luthice and Desiray met an accord, and in the Baronian’s shuttling back and forth to train Desiray she ran across Darin’kel. (Darin’kel makes women regardless of age stop and stare.) Being a rather forward elder, she made some advances on the boy which the possessive Everia immediately tried to rebuff. Luthice eventually lost interest in Darin, he was married and boringly true to his wife Gwynned. However, Everia was much like him in a lot of regards, and completely unattached. Luthice bribed Desiray into “giving” her Everia. What ensued after that was a cat-and-mouse chase that went on for cycles. Eventually, Everia came to care for Luthice and they were engaged. Children? The grandmas are waiting with baited breath drooling over the prospect of child that has both Desiray’s enhanced genes and that of the war-evolved Baronians. Time will tell.

The main relationships are chronicled in the tables above but they are of course not the full extent of the allies and close-knit trysts that have formed over the decades. There are Gabriella and her children. There is Bertram and his wives. First Thamara who he later divorces. Later Bertram marries the daughter of Algernon D’Tarin, Valsiden who then by association becomes Desiray’s new sister-wife. There are pantheon lords, eternals, Kriar, savants…oh my. Enough material for a story or two at least?

See Also:  D’Tarin, Algernon, Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Everia, Felspar, Loric, Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Caldorian, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Darin’kel, kriar, Shadowstalker, Bronawyn

Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri — Annawen is the silent sister to Cassin. The two sisters are as different from one another as they are alike. Where Cassin represents restraint, logic, and intellect, Annawen represents hedonism, creativity, and passion. Annawen is extremely promiscuous, outgoing, and spontaneous. While Cassin plans things down to the last detail, Annawen simply makes it up as she goes. Each sister represents the pure forms of the extremes that might occur in a normal personality. This is why Annawen is so good at magic. It is a skill that requires confidence, the slightest shred of doubt can ruin or cripple a spell. Annawen literally has no worries, and no fear or compunction about the consequence of her actions. By that token, she has nothing holding her back. This is, of course, why she has problems with control.

Though law and rules are not the kind of thing Annawen would normally like, she finds the idea of twisting rules to her own ends intriguing. Her creative and exhibitionistic nature are extremely well suited to both a courtroom and the stage. She would be perfectly suited to them except for the fact that she does not speak aloud. This of course, keeps her out of trial law in all but the most sophisticated territories where telepathy is tolerated as a means of communication. She does on occasion call on Cassin to be her ‘voice’ as she is in most of their everyday life. Cassin typically refuses most of her sister’s requests because she feels Annawen should ‘find her own voice’. Being the eldest, they are the big sisters to all the Felspar family children. They are often bailing their brothers and sisters out of trouble. Annawen’s interest in law is quite valuable for resolving many of the situations that arise.

Annawen feels that Cassin is an errant part of her that has run away. The fact that she cannot function overlong without her troubles her. She harbors a secret (not so secret to her sister) desire for them to unify into one person. Cassin is extremely bothered by this desire in her sister, likening it to being ‘consumed’. Despite their oppositeness, they are as close as two sisters can be and NOT be one person. Becoming married to Sindra and Drucilla Frielos has been an extremely satisfying experience for Annawen. Her pairing with Drucilla provides a balance in her life that Cassin was unable to provide.

The Frielos twins are specialists too, but it is not along the right-brain left-brain aspects. Drucilla represents the passive aspect of their pairing (to Sindra’s aggressive) which is well suited to Annawen’s personality and tendencies. Cassin and Annawen are extremely active and well traveled. They are adored on Homeworld. Elsewhere they are regarded with respect, and in many cases with fear and suspicion.

Elsbeth Crowninshield considers the twins, and Annawen in particular, two of the greatest threats to the integrity of magic. Despite herself, Elsbeth has been unable to view these two as enemies though they embody the very essence of what she fears (the merger of magic and technology). Whether by luck, or through their empathy, the twins knew it was essential to make sure they became close to this elder elite. A campaign several years in the making got them into the good graces of the red-haired woman buying them safety from her war on technology.

After an encounter with Corim Vale, and his metapathic talent, Annawen has become rather fixated on the handsome man. The fact that he’s in love with Dulcere Starbinder is not at all troubling to her. She knows she’ll get her way eventually… she always has in the past…

See Also:  Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri

Felspar, Caldorian — Son of Desiray Illkaren Felspar and Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri. Cassandra is the “Foathra” or the surrogate of a female / female coupling who provides the male genes. Caldorian is has an identical twin brother Sebenreth’Kar Felspar.

Caldorian is currently married to Bronawyn ShadowStalker and has two daughters: Cassopia and DonaRae.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Shadowstalker, Bronawyn

Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri — Cassandra is one of the only surviving members of the first incarnation of the Band of the Crescent Moon. She has traveled and adventured extensively throughout the Realms during her 91 years of life. At one time she was engaged to be married to Gondor Degaba who by a quirk of fate was changed from a male to a female by the Aesir pantheon lord Loki. In Gondor’s new identity as a female things got pretty complicated as he and she had already managed to conceive children. Cassandra ended up not being able to handle the relationship and the two of them grew apart but continued to raise their daughters Cassin and Annawen. Cassandra went on to marry the elder mage Loric Felspar.

After the adoption of Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri by house Techstar, it became a fashion among the Kriar nobility to start interacting with the humanity and skilled mages in particular. The ability of magic to overcome something Kriar science could not opened many eyes, and sparked intense interest in learning the secrets of magic. Also, humans being young and impressionable, made them excellent protégés. The Kriar being empaths, derive a great deal of satisfaction being around creatures who still experience excitement and passion. They can feel ‘vicariously’ through their empathy, emotions and sensations that they themselves have become numb to due to hundreds of millennia of life.

The Techstar family has profited enormously by Cassandra’s addition to their ranks, as the mage’s ‘star status’ among Kriar is worth a great deal in favors, media deals, and other ‘celebrity status’ benefits. This, of course, certainly hasn’t hurt Cassandra’s popularity among the members of her adoptive family.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric, Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, kriar

Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri — Cassin is the steadfast twin of the union. She represents all the things that Annawen is not. She is steady, logical, and dedicated to rational thought. Cassin is extremely close to her Mother (Foathra) Dorian. Dorian is Cassin’s paternal progenitor. Early in her life, Dorian was in fact Gondor (a man) and engaged to Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri. A extremely unfortunate encounter with a vampire and a the humor of a Loki resulted in a man being placed in woman’s body. By shape changing, he could regain his normal male form, but the magic would eventually wear off and he would again become ‘Dorian’. It was in his shape changed state that Dorian (Gondor) fathered the twins Cassin and Annawen. As a way of keeping things from getting confused, they coined the term ‘Foathra’ for a female that had sired children.

There are other Foathrings in the Felspar family, but Cassin and Annawen were the first. Initially, Cassandra thought she could deal with her husband-to-be having become female, but later found she couldn’t handle it. Gondor also had problems having thought like a male for 50 odd years, now being a female and (via hormones) beginning to think like a female. The two of them grew apart but raised Cassin and Annawen as a family. Cassin married Sindra by ‘default’. She thought the pairing with the Frielos twins was a bad and unsafe endeavor. Only later did she come to really appreciate the benefits of being spoiled by an elder. Now, many years into the marriage, she has fully embraced their relationship and enjoys all of its benefits. Cassin plays the passive role to Sindra’s aggressive one, and is content to satisfy the needs of her sometimes demanding mate.

Cassin is much more involved in technology and more technically savvy than her sister. In that aspect, she complements her sister well, who is extremely magic savvy. Working together the twins can excel in practically any culture.

See Also:  Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri

Felspar, Darin’kel — Son of Desiray Illkaren Felspar and Dorian Degaba Ishtarvariku. Darin has a twin sister named Everia. Darin is known as the “beauty” of the Felspar clan for his androgynous jaw-dropping handsomeness. His appearance is such that even the pantheon lord Isis keeps the young man on display nearby so she can look at him from time to time. This is one of the reasons for his accelerated rise through the ranks of Isis’ followers, a fact which has earned him more than a little enmity.

Despite his rival’s jealous claims to his “sleeping his way to the top” Darin’Kel is in fact an exceptionally gifted and talented individual. Having his mother Desiray’s incredible physique and Dorian’s keen intellect, there is little this young man cannot do once he sets his mind to it. As a cleric of Isis the dogma of the worship was stifling to him. However, he became a cleric as something of a defiance to his mother Dorian who wanted him to learn the magical arts (actually, it was more of Everia’s defiance than his, but Darin generally follows the will of his sister). It was not until Darin entered the ranks of the Sovereign that he truly began to flourish (the sovereigns are mages with priest training who serve Isis).

Both Darin’Kel and Everia feel a certain amount of resentment and rebellion against their mother Dorian. Most of their clash is rooted in a mother-daughter tug of war for identity and freedom. Ironically, Dorian’s persuasive and manipulative ways work on everybody except her children. Darin’s heart is considerably softer than Everia’s when it comes to Dorian, and when not toeing-the-line laid down by his sister he and his mother are very close. Desiray experiences none of the hostility that Dorian is privy to. She was the “fun” parent and had no part in the law laid down by Dorian which is in part the reason for the mage’s unpopularity with these two children.

Darin’Kel later marries a cleric by the name of Gwynned, and later still they have two sons: Xandar and Tristham.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Everia, Felspar Clan

Felspar, Desiray Illkaren — Desiray Illkaren Felspar, also known as Whitelock, is one of the core members of the Band of the Crescent Moon. She is one of the “three matriarchs” of family Felspar (Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri and Dorian Degaba Ishtarvariku being the other two). Desiray has had a long and sordid history as a thief. Her adventurers in Silissia and later in quests against Hellzan, Surr, and the Dream Merchants made her fortunes which she turned to the task of building a network of guilds. Her skills as a thief are renowned through Sharikaar as is her merciless reputation. In her later years, this reputation softened considerably when she married Loric Felspar. She became gentler still after the advent of children.

Desiray was the personal patron of Sireth, who in turn was the patron of Liandra Kergatha. Desiray and Liandra initially share a mutual enmity toward one another that almost ends in them killing each other. Later, they grow closer and Desiray takes on a role as Wren’s surrogate mother. In an attempt to shield both Desiray and Liandra, Gaea alters Desiray so that she can become Liandra’s tao beta (meaning that they can join to become a single far more powerful being). In this form, Desiray and Liandra proved a reasonable match for even elder elite like the D’klace sisters Sindra and Drucilla.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Sharikaar, tao

Felspar, Everia — Daughter of Dorian Degaba Ishtarvariku and Desiray Illkaren Felspar [Desiray Foathra]. She is one of a pair of polar-body twins ((identical / fraternal) similar appearance but different sex). Her brother is Darin’Kel.

Everia marries the Baronian warmage Luthice in 1114 N.I.S.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Darin’kel

Felspar, Loric — Numanorian elder elite and patriarch of family Felspar. Loric is a renowned Ranger and grand lore-mage. He has two wives, Desiray and Cassandra. He has three children by blood (with Cassandra). Loric is the creator of many magical items and technologies. The most notable of which are the Krillar. His wife Desiray wields the krill sword and dagger, Khairhavhel and Khairhavkul. Cassandra and Dorian both used krill staves of his design.

Loric is one of the last generation of Numanor, an elder race that eventually destroyed itself in pursuit of the ultimate power of entropy once possessed by the first ones.

Loric was born approximately 90,000 cycles prior to the events chronicled in most of the stories taking place in the Ring Realms. He by far pre-dates the lives of Aarlen Frielos and Elsbeth Crowninshield. Being one of the few remaining creatures possessing “true-magic” he felt that he should have a say in the development or the corruption of magic and how it was being distributed by the pantheon lords. This led Loric down a path where he began trying to police the ancient lores once controlled by the Numanorians and the first ones. He developed powerful magicks and trained allies to help him in this venture. Despite their limited number and resources Loric and his followers became a growing irritation to many of the pantheon lords, as he “kept them in line” policing not only the spread of magic, but enforcing a certain amount of separation between the lords and their sources of demiurge. The hit-and-run gorilla tactics of the Krill warriors finally escalated into full fledged war and Loric and his followers were forced into hiding. He and his followers would go into seclusion for centuries at a time, spending the “cooling off” cycles in specially designed stasis chambers that Loric had secreted throughout the worlds of the Ring Realms. There were occasions when he spent as long as five millennia in stasis, the exact reasons for these extended submergences are unknown but there are at least four known periods when he went “underground” for several thousand cycles. It’s been speculated that he was in actuality sleeping off massive injuries to his body and spirit, but there is no evidence to support this theory. Upon each new emergence, he was stronger and more persistent in his desire to “clean up” the tyrannical dominion of the pantheon lords. Over the course of the millennia, the original desire to merely shepherd magic transformed into a one-man vendetta against the lords. It was in the latter portion of this war that Loric met and befriended Damay Alostar one of the great Kel’Varans. They undertook several quests to protect various members of the savant race scattered throughout the Realms. It was Loric’s eventual plan to gather up all the savants and turn them against the pantheon lords. In the middle of this plan, Damay soured on the idea fearing that they would in fact cause the destruction of savant kind rather than their preservation. This fundamental difference eventually resulted in their going their separate ways. In the interim, Loric had learned a great deal from the individual savants he had met, and had discovered intrinsic properties in the foundating power of Eternity. These new discoveries were integrated into the Krillar weaponry and the power turned against the pantheon lords in a renewed onslaught in order to force the lords to give up their possession of the “material plane” and constrain their activities to the outer dimensions. The conflict escalated quickly, and several lords were slain permanently by Loric’s new powers. The threat posed by the Numinorian created a situation where the pantheon lords would be forced to either comply and give up their possession of the core worlds, or cooperate and dismiss Loric from existence once and for all. The lords chose the latter, and in a massive battle the pantheon lords came together and in final battle corralled Loric and his followers and destroyed them all in a single entropic blast of demiurge.

In the aftermath of the conflict, it was a general consensus of the pantheon lords that they would all withdraw their primary influence to the outer planes, in order to prevent any further such conflicts. This was not only a direct result of Loric’s efforts but an increasing pressure from a number of other sources.

Unknown to the lords, Loric had invested his essence into a secluded location, placing it within one of the five great krillglobes of his creation. Several millennia later, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri found the globe and discovered the great mage’s essence within. The lady mage used her powerful magics to recreate a body for Loric and place his essence within the shell, restoring the ancient Numanorian to life. This last violently forceful vacation had taken most of the fight out of the great mage, with the pantheon lords having withdrawn to the outer planes there really wasn’t much left to fight about. Loric spent a great deal of time in seclusion, healing, and regenerating his lost powers. In the meantime, Cassandra was fascinated by this powerful man, both by the possibility of gaining his lore, and learning from him, and the romantic idea of associating with this legendary figure. Loric was, of course, alone and lonely, Cassandra was hungry and enticing. Eventually, the youngster wore down the elder’s resistance and the two of them developed a more intimate relationship. They were finally engaged in 1074 N.I.S. after five years of persistence. They were finally married in 1079.

Loric is the patriarch of the clan. The gods tolerate his new existence but remain wary that he might start his old tricks again. He has three boys by Cassandra (born as triplets) Loric II, Radian, and Celek. He has a single son by Desiray (his second wife) named Farveth.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, krillar

frell — Frell is a common curse in the Ring Realms. The compiler of the glossary leaves it up to the reader’s imagination as to what ‘frell’ refers to. It can be conjugated in a number of ways: That’s really frelled. What the frell?! You frelling made that up!

Frielos, Aarlen — Supreme Magistrix of the 4th Alliance territories. Engaged to Regaura Targallae. Aarlen’s exact age is unknown (even to her) but historians agree that she can be no less than 45,000 cycles old. This member of the grand elder elite is descended from Territaani branch of humanoid stock. Aarlen was magically and technically enhanced by her Father in order to create a living weapon. Abused and tortured throughout her childhood, she eventually turned on her Father who had already killed her mother and sister. Unfortunately for the then twelve cycle old Aarlen, the cycle of violence did not end there. Mishap, misfortune, and aggression over a span of years eventually turned the white-haired woman into a brutal killing machine. She became proficient in all the major martial and magical arts, and mastered many forms. The a millenniums long series of bloody conquests she hacked out the territory of space now known as the fourth alliance.

During her rise to power she made many enemies which include Elsbeth Crowninshield, Vulcindra Skybane, and the Trackazoid and Eddorian empires. During her thousands of cycles of life, Aarlen has begotten children for purposes of having agents under her direct control. She has thirteen acknowledged children still living. The Frielos family has some 12 recognized generations of relatives that number close to 75,000 members. Though it seems hard to believe, with a life that spans over 1000 generations, Aarlen’s distant relations likely number in the hundreds of millions.

See Also:  Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Frielos, Drucilla — Daughter of Aarlen Frielos. Elder elite and member of the D’klace guild of assassins. Being “into” everything, she even plays in an all-girl musical group with Luthice and Arabella. She is the silent sister to Sindra Frielos.

Something to note about Drucilla and her sister is the fact that while they are to a certain extent evil, and definitely self serving, these two never became the unredeemable black that many of Aarlen’s creations became. This seems to be a deliberate happenstance on Aarlen’s part, presumably so that they would be more effective as spies and seductresses.

Drucilla is married to Annawen Kel’Ishtauri Felspar. The elder woman has been teaching Annawen the etiquette and protocols of the 4th alliance high court, as Annawen seeks to conduct law there.

See Also:  Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri

Frielos, Sindra — Daughter of Aarlen Frielos. Elder elite and member of the D’klace guild of assassins. Being “into” everything, she even plays in an all-girl musical group with Luthice and Arabella. She is the speaking sister to Drucilla Frielos.

Something to note about Sindra and her sister is the fact that while they are to a certain extent evil, and definitely self serving, these two never became the unredeemable black that many of Aarlen’s creations became. This seems to be a deliberate happenstance on Aarlen’s part, presumably so that they would be more effective as spies and seductresses.

Sindra is married to Cassin Kel’Ishtauri Felspar. Being the “voices” of the two sets of twins its not uncommon to see them paired with the other twin. Why they didn’t simply marry that way is still something of a mystery…

See Also:  Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri

Frielos, Thanos — Thanos is Aarlen’s last child, and relatively young by elder standards (around two thousand cycles old). He is the misunderstood child of the Frielos family, something of a black sheep that never got much respect because despite his name, he simply wasn’t evil enough. Thanos is a gentlemanly charmer trained like his older sisters, Sindra and Drucilla, to be an assassin. Thanos is the D’klace twin’s “baby brother” and there is no-one else that they dote on or show affection toward (aside from Cassin and Annawen). The relationship between these three is fairly complex, as there is definite signs that Sindra and Drucilla shielded Thanos from Aarlen in a deliberate attempt to keep him from becoming totally evil as many of the Frielos clan are. Thanos is still bad, but not an irredeemably evil despot, that others like him have become.

Since the change in Aarlen, Thanos has become more accepted. Beia Targallae and Thanos share an uneasy truce, as he does not trust the Myrmigyne, and feels a certain amount of anger toward her over the pain his mother has had to endure. Why he chose Beia as the target for this upset is unknown, as she had nothing to do with Aarlen’s capture by the eternals. Some of it may be jealousy because when Aarlen was finally able to show affection to someone, it was to a stranger, and not one of her children.

See Also:  Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, Myrmigyne, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

—  G  —

G’yaki — The G’yaki are together a race, a culture, and a guild rolled into one. The G’yaki are night warriors that hire out as mercenaries and sometimes assassins. They share many common characteristics with monestarial sects, gathering together in strictly governed colonies which dedicate themselves to self discipline, martial training, and enlightenment.

G’yaki masters are renowned for their stealth and ability to escape, able to vanish through means of indirection, and pseudo-psionic disciplines. They are vicious warriors, their master-level fighters able to shatter a wall with a single punch. The G’yaki are most notable for their advances in tao-disciplines and spiritual-hardening. G’yaki devotees can over time develop spiritual properties similar to savants. Vera, the woman who serves as the Felspar Clan family cook is a G’yaki master. The little woman has demonstrated extraordinary combat abilities, able to single-handedly hold three Frielos family Sen’Gen at bay.

See Also:  Felspar Clan, tao

Gaea — The name for the female creator-force. Legend has it that a coupling between Alpha and Gaea gave rise to all the living things in Eternity. Gaea is the patron of Wren Kergatha. She is known to many as the ‘green mother’ and there are many legends of this cosmic fertility goddess interacting with various heroes. The diaries of Wren Kergatha cite having met and received boons from this powerful immortal creature.

Genemar — CLASSIFIED. Sorry folks… not letting this one out. We have only Rakaar’s reference. ‘Creation run amok…’

Gladshiem — The outer plane where Asgard, Niflheim, and the other realms ruled by the Aesir and Vanir can be found.

god — Generic term for the immortal pantheon lords and ladies who make their homes in the outer planes.

goddess — Generic term (female gender) for god. See god.

guild — In the generic sense, any of several organizations that represent various craftsman. Mages, thieves, and warriors all have representative guilds (sometimes more than one in the bigger cities). When spoken of as ‘THE guild’, it is generally assumed to be the thieves or assassins guild.

guilder — A member (usually referring to a thief) who is a member of a guild.

—  H  —

Hades — The outer plane where many ‘under-realms’ of demons and creatures of the dark can be found.

Hecate — Pantheon lord, goddess of magic, death, and the moon. Hecate is an outcast even among her own kind. She pursues the ultimate power, Tan’Acho, and is willing to go to any lengths to achieve it.

See Also:  tan’acho

Hella — Pantheon lord, goddess of death who guards the domain of Niflheim. In the story of ‘Neath Odin’s Eye Hella joins with Daena Sheento to become a first one.

heterotropic — Of or pertaining to the power generated by living things.

Hethanon — Initially an avatar of Set, who was the cult leader of a thieves guild called the Dagger. Hethanon destroyed the guild of Brethren in Corwin. Desiray Illkaren Felspar and Wren Kergatha mounted a counter assault and drove him out. Hethanon eventually lost face with Set after failing twice in to recapture Wren Kergatha. Hecate eventually opted to make Hethanon her avatar for purposes known only to her. After his acceptance into the cult of Hecate, he changed his name to Nystruul. See Nystruul.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren

Homeworld — Actually, a gigantic ship in space. The Kriar homeworld actually encompasses and entire star. The entire structure is mobile and has wandered the multiverse for untold millions of millennia. The Kriar have two homeworlds the Fabrista homeworld (from which most of the Kriar in the realms hail) and Karanganoi homeworld which has been over-run by Baronians. Characters such as Senalloy, Luthice, Alloy, Rakaar, and others essentially hail from Karanganoi homeworld.

See Also:  kriar

Hoshihana, Virasama Takara {Vera} {Su’Ko Tai} — One of the little known members of the Felspar clan, but undoubtedly one of the most essential to its smooth operation is Virasama or Vera. She is the cook, the housekeeper, the caregiver, the seamstress, the lady’s maid and a host of other functions. Vera is an energetic, respectful, and oh-so-correct servant of Loric gifted with extraordinary abilities. How this diminutive lady actually manages to do all the things she does is largely a mystery to most of the members of the household, but over the cycles they have grown accustomed to Vera’s “magic”. That include such things as being able to pour nine different drinks out of the same pitcher, or just happen to provide a new person with their favorite food.

Vera is rarely idle and almost never seems to sleep. She is a extraordinary chef that provides the family with flavorful, no-nonsense, “country cooking”. Many are the times that some of Loric’s elder guests have tried to hire Vera away, but she always declines.

The truth of Vera’s magical abilities lay with Loric, and his desire to make his huge household manageable for his trusted follower. Over the cycles, he has developed house magicks which respond to Vera’s unique mental talents, allowing her tao-like spiritual strength to manipulate the environment of the citadel to her wishes. Since few creatures save savants have a tao, it was safe for Loric to create these magics.

Vera’s tao abilities come from her training as G’yaki assassin. Vera is a master level G’yaki with more than a century of combat experience. Upon passing rites of a master Virasama was given the alias Su’Ko Tai as her ‘true name’ and identity as a ‘true’ G’Yaki. Vera functioned in this capacity for several decades. It was only when she refused to take her own life after the death of her husband that she was dishonored and expelled from the G’yaki clan in which she lived. This dishonor lives with her to this day, and is why Vera feels herself only worthy of the trivial position of house maid.

Vera has the exceptional combat skills acquired from decades of training as a G’yaki stealth master. In addition, she has the birth advantage of coming from region surrounding Tralondizaar, a location of one of the ancient Kriar gate systems. This particular gate was malfunctioning and leaking chronal energy into the environment. Over the millennia, the G’yaki family that lived in area were affected by these energies. Making them able to “slip” ticks in time creating an illusion of extraordinary speed. These “slipped” or bypassed ticks also extend one’s lifespan, prolonging their already tao-advantaged life forces.

Vera hides her G’yaki training unless there is an emergency or there are special circumstances. When she “becomes” a G’yaki, her whole persona undergoes a change and she becomes a vicious machine with a mission. She does not speak while in this state, and communicates only with hand gestures and head shakes. She is a truly formidable fighting machine, able to stand off three of Aarlen Frielos’ technically armed Sen’Gen while sustaining only minor injuries.

Vera’s tao-enhanced physiology gives her near superhuman endurance, and she needs little sleep. She is two to three times as strong as a well honed athlete of her height and weight. Her ability to “slip” time gives her phenomenal speed exceeding the reflexes of highly-enhanced immorts. G’yaki mind disciplines and close to two hundred cycles of life give her formidable mental skills as well. Vera is immune to most mind affecting magics.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric, Felspar Clan, kriar, tao

—  I  —

Idun — Pantheon lord of the Aesir, goddess of immortality. Idun is one of the more powerful goddesses of the Aesir. In mythology she tends the fruit which grant the Aesir longevity. As a pantheon lord of the Ring Realms she is the keeper of fruits which have restorative powers on pantheon lords that also can temporarily imbue a mortal creature with immort strength, resilience, and magick.

Idun is the mother of Euriel Kergatha Idundaughter, and grandmother of Liandra Kergatha.

immortal — Any of class of creatures which have effectively infinite life-spans. Immortal in the greatest sense can mean almost impossible to kill. The pantheon lords fall into this category being able to heal back from the most fearsome of wounds. In later stories, Bannor tests just how far “immortality” goes.

implant — (specific to Cyberware c.f.) In reference to a particular techno-enhancement placed in the body. The implant has experienced shutdown.

interdimensional — Of or pertaining to alternate realms of existence and their access.

Ironfist, DacWhirter Varon {Dak} — Sometimes known as the Warmaster of Kron. Member of the Band of the Crescent Moon. DacWhirter hales from the Kron hills in the Kingdom of Coormeer to the east of Ivaneth. This hardy dwarf has taken part in a great deal of the lore of Titaan. He has been rumored dead several times only to reappear summers later as though nothing had happened. Through what magic he accomplishes this is still unknown.

There are those who theorize that he is an agent of Moradin, who favors him with renewed life after sacrificing himself in the cause of protecting life in the Ring Realms. If this is the case, DacWhirter has never favored anyone with his secret. Measuring 16 hands tall and weighing over 22 stone DacWhirter is one of the biggest dwarves recorded in the realms. DacWhirter is an 9th ranked WarMaster and veteran of 20 All-World’s tournaments. He has at times qualified and made it to the final rounds the unlimited class tourneys. These inconsistent showings in tournament play have raised the question if there might not be more than one dwarf baring the name of DacWhirter Ironfist.

Ishtarvariku, Dorian Degaba — Dorian’s history is long and complex. She started life in another guise, as a man named Gondor Degaba. Gondor’s life was one of adventure. He forayed against slavers, and giants, and evil elves. As a skilled mage he was injured many times but had never really met his match. It wasn’t until he joined up with the Band of the Crescent Moon in their fight against a Lich Lord named Ceta that he met with real defeat. The undead creature made everyone’s life hard. Her minions killed two of the band outright and Gondor himself was turned into a vampire which the party was forced to destroy in order to continue their quest. Through some powerful magics Gondor’s lifeforce was preserved, but he was an unembodied spirit. The band had undertaken their quest at the behest of the Aesir pantheon lords, and it was lord Loki who decided to take a hand in providing a new form for Gondor. The god bound Gondor into the body of a woman. From then on Gondor became Dorian. This made life difficult as during the course of their adventuring Gondor and Cassandra had already become close and sworn to each other. It wasn’t until a few months later they discovered how close they had become, because Cassandra was pregnant. Gondor/Dorian’s life was only beginning to get complicated.

As a woman, Dorian went on developing her skills as a mage. Her relationship with Cassandra grew and changed, and later changed further still as Desiray entered the picture. She helped raise Cassin and Annawen and watched them grow into young women. Dorian’s adventures continued.

Dorian is a skilled and creative mage that is far more powerful than a typical mage of her age and skills. She has a knack for creating magic items and blending magicks to create devastatingly powerful combinations. In later cycles, she takes up the sword and martial training purely for the physical “toughening” to enhance her powers even further. Over the course of decades Dorian has developed a reputation as a schemer and a manipulator. She has successfully won the support, dedication, and even adoration of many extremely powerful allies, including such personages as Gabriella Sarn Ariok, who now mentors her in magick. While all are suspicious of Dorian, there is more than a little respect as well, where brute force has failed, Dorian’s clever deceptions have more than once saved the day.

Dorian is the wife of Brin Ishtarvariku, she has eleven children between four partners, two with Brin: Rindar and Jaraed. Four with Cassandra: Cassin, Annawen, Kassandra, Dorrian. Three with Desiray: Darin’Kel, Eviria, Leandra. Lastly, two with Megan Vinax: Ralani and Silvia.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Darin’kel

Isis — Pantheon lord, goddess of magic and fertility.

Ivaneth — Name of the kingdom south of Malan, with Corwin on its western border, and East realm and Coormeer on the east. Ivaneth is ruled by King Edmund Tradeholme. The capital of Ivaneth is Ivaneth City. A city of just over 1 million people.

—  J  —

jihira — Elvish. Meaning ‘to kiss’. There is a phrase referring to Elves who dare to love humans. They are called ‘silcomhad jihira’ or ‘star kissers’.

justicar — A paladin or warrior given authority to act as judge, jury, and executioner (if necessary) in the fringe areas of the Ring Realms.

Jyril — Elder race capable of movement throughout the multiverse. They are the oldest known race of creatures with a knowledge of magic and technology that dwarfs anything else yet encountered. Little is known about these curious creatures or their real motives, except that certain sects of this ancient people act as a kind of cosmic police force. The Jyril fought and won a war against the Kriar, putting upon them a “curse” of infertility that kept the gold-skinned creatures from reproducing for millions of cycles.

See Also:  kriar

—  K  —

karanganoi — The name of the ‘other’ Kriar dasta (and name of their homeworld). The Fabrista and Karanganoi are two clans of Kriar that went their separate ways during first exodus. See Fabrista.

See Also:  dasta, kriar

Kegari — Dragon in the employ of the pantheon lord Idun, she and her friend (sister mate?) Tymoril travel extensively with Bannor.

See Also:  dragon

kell — Powerful being that appeared in citadel Kul’Amaron and bested several savants, a shael dal, and a Kriar belkirin with little effort. Kell’s origins are unknown but it appeared that he had both savant and Baronian heredity.

See Also:  kriar, kriar ranks

Kergatha, Azir — Son of Euriel and Vanidaar Kergatha, and older brother of Wren. Azir is a Sil’Kar Nola, a savant of light. During the avatar raid that captures Wren and makes Euriel and Vanidaar mental prisoners in their own home, the then eighteen summer old boy made his escape into the planescape surrounding Cosmodarus. Already trained in the techniques of plane-shifting as well as survival and woodscraft, it was an easy matter for the young man to elude capture by the avatar’s minions in the ever changing environment around Cosmodarus.

Unfortunately, Azir’s ability to elude pursuit did not prevent him from getting lost amongst of the thousands of parallel worlds of the ribbon realms. He moved from place to place, doing odd tasks to get food and shelter, and looking for a way back home to help his family. After a few seasons spent plane hopping he did eventually find his way back to Cosmodarus, a little older and more determined.

After several aborted attempts to free his parents and barely eluding capture, he went to the world of Titaan, and the city of Corwin, following the trail of his kidnapped sister. He learned that the temple of Hecate there had recently been over-run by the Justicars and most of the prisoners freed. His inquiries with Justicars bore no fruit, as none of the warriors involved in the raid recalled seeing a young girl. It was during these inquiries that he met his school friend Laramis De’Falcone, a well-connected Coormeerian paladin of Ukko, who had just been admitted to the ranks of the Justicars. Laramis’ funds helped finance a wider search of Corwin, but the efforts netted no leads or any evidence that Azir’s sister Liandra still lived or was even still on Titaan.

Azir turned his attention back to trying to find a way to free his parents from Mishaka. He turned his attention to the Elven land of Malan, his parents being longtime friends of the T’Evagduran royal family. It was Malan where he and Laramis had attended academy together learning everything from academic subjects to warcraft. His attempts to garner the help of the royal family were frustrated by a border war between Malan and the neighboring lands of Ironwood, and the Dwarves at Blackstar. The conflict had grown to the point that the T’Evagduran royals were involved and unable to be contacted much less assist in Azir’s family crisis.

Azir then turned his attention to higher powers and his Grandmother Idun, the pantheon lady of the Aesir. He found it strange that the powerful goddess had not already come to the aide of her daughter and grand-daughter already. It was during his attempts to contact her that he learned of a wider conspiracy by the court of Odin against Euriel and her mother Idun. For more than two summers his efforts to contact Idun or get into Gladshiem were blocked by various “coincidences” and “happenstances” that he knew were anything but. It was shortly after that agents of Set and Hecate began pursuing him. He also began having run-ins with the black-winged Valkyries called the Bloodguard. It was only incredible luck, his powers as a savant, and chance alliances with warriors of the All-World’s Tournament that kept him from getting killed or captured.

With such forces mobilized against him, Azir could do little more than run. He spent several years only steps ahead of the agents of the pantheon lords. Eventually they gave up the pursuit and Azir was free to turn his attention back toward freeing his parents. Azir returned to Titaan, and located his friend Laramis, who, over the seasons, had risen considerably in the ranks of the Justicars and the faith of Ukko. Hardened by cycles spent on the run, skills honed by constantly being hairs from death, Azir decided to make one last ditch effort to free his parents with the assistance of Laramis and a few of his retainers.

Azir’s efforts were to be short-lived by a chance and detrimental encounter with the avatar Hethanon, who would capture the man and give him into the hands of Mishaka. It is shortly after this time that Azir’s sister Wren Kergatha would finally find her identity and her way back home after more than a decade spent in the streets of Corwin where she was a member of the Brethren guild of thieves. Wren and her friends would eventually succeed in their efforts to restore the Kergatha family, and Azir could finally end his cycles of torment and exile.

See Also:  De’Falcone, Laramis

Kergatha, Euriel Idun-daughter — Daughter of the goddess Idun, wife of Vanidaar Kergatha, mother of Liandra Kergatha and Azir Kergatha.

Kergatha, Liandra {Wren} Idun-daughter — Daughter of Eurel and Vanidaar Kergatha. Fifteen summer vetran of the Brethren guild. Wren is a Kel’Varan Nola a savant of forces. Wren has had dozens of run-ins with the pantheon lords and their servants. She has fought several avatars and permanently killed two. Even Hecate speaks of this young woman with grudging respect… knowing her full potential especially when backed by the proper allies.

Kergatha, Vanidaar — Husband of Euriel Idun-daughter, father of Liandra Kergatha and Azir Kergatha. Vanidaar, like his two children, is a savant—Kul’Vita Nola—a savant of life forces.

keshira — Elven diplomatic term referring to a person of royal descent who is not currently in power or acknowledged by the powers that be. Sarai refers to Bronawyn Darkstalker as “Keshira” because the royal family of Drakmourne Silissia were run out of the kingdom (indeed off the continent).

See Also:  Shadowstalker, Bronawyn, T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

kidomma — Elvish term of respect for an woman who is older but of lesser rank. Ryelle refers to Euriel Kergatha (who is a baroness by rank) as “Kidomma”. Domma is an elven synonym for “mother”. The prefix ‘ki’ is somewhat like ‘kul’ (which means power) but is more like emphasis than true meaning. So the best translation is ‘special mother’ or ‘respected mother’.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Ryelle (1st Princess)

Kirikos, Dame — A cleric of Ishtar in service Jharon Ko. The dame (along with the entire Corwinian precinct of Ishtar) is slain by Mishaka.

kriar —Summary: The Kriar being a vegetative (rather than mammalian) humanoid race possess several plant-like attributes. Their skin is photosynthetic, and they derive nourishment from light. Their tissue is dense (like wood) and thus they are heavier and more resistant to injury. Kriar scientists have heavily modified the hereditary physiology of the species and many of the evolutionary drawbacks of their origins have been engineered away. Most Kriar rely on a life-support mechanism called a matrix stone that is embedded in their bodies at a young age. These jewels provide supplemental photosynthetic nourishment so the Kriar can function for extended periods in environments where there is little to no natural sun-light. These jewels are normally installed in sets. A focus stone in the forehead, a distribution matrix enfleshed in the collarbone, and brain-stone or central control enfleshed beneath the lower abdominal muscles. These matrixes often have cybernetic enhancements and convenience mechanisms built into them depending on the kind of work the Kriar does. Warriors typically have additional implants in the palms of both hands. These are high-energy foci. The hand focus allows the warrior to create force weapons and shielding, along with usually having various sensor and cybernetic apparatus built into them.

kriar ranks — Unlike the Earthly military, which separates rank designations into Officers and enlisted men, the Kriar are broken into two overlapping ranking tracks—Combat grade and Engineer grade. At the same rank in hostile situations, Combat grade always takes precedence over Engineer grade. There is some fuzziness to authority where tactical and strategic command comes into play. The authority of Engineer grade is generally recognized over Combat grade in non-critical situations, reflecting the extra schooling and specialized knowledge of the military engineering track.

Engineers are required to be flight certified on all vessels up to 100,000 tons. They must have combat certification on three classes each of ground armor, flight armor, tactical and strategic fighter craft. To qualify above Thane rank, Engineers must check out as at least level 5 certified in all timediving related skills. Engineers must also be checked out on all classifications of portable weaponry, and able to perform field strip and repair on said same. They must also be proficient with biomedical units, and fluent in the programming/hacking of cybernetic a.i. Because the Engineer track emphasizes flight and technical knowledge, Engineers have much looser martial requirements.

Kriar Rank Equivalents

Combat Grade Rank: Prime Kath

Engineer Grade Rank: Shal Prime

—Equivalent to: Fleet Admiral

Combat Grade Rank: Counsel Kath

Engineer Grade Rank: Shal Counsel

—Equivalent to: Admiral

Combat Grade Rank: Varkath

Engineer Grade Rank: Varkath

—Equivalent to: Vice Admiral

Combat Grade Rank: -NONE—

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

Equivalent to: Rear Admiral (upper half)

Combat Grade Rank: Tarkath

Engineer Grade Rank: Tarkath

—Equivalent to: Rear Admiral (lower half)

Combat Grade Rank: Kath

Engineer Grade Rank: Shal’kath

—Equivalent to: Captain

Combat Grade Rank: Belkirin

Engineer Grade Rank: Shal’kiran

—Equivalent to: Commander

Combat Grade Rank: Varlonn

Engineer Grade Rank: Shal’kar

—Equivalent to: Lieutenant Commander

Combat Grade Rank: Tarlonn

Engineer Grade Rank: Lonn’kar

—Equivalent to: Lieutenant

Combat Grade Rank: Bellonn

Engineer Grade Rank: Thane’kar

—Equivalent to: Junior Lieutenant

Combat Grade Rank: Lonn

Engineer Grade Rank: Thane

—Equivalent to: Ensign

Combat Grade Rank: Varthane

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Master Chief Petty Officer

Combat Grade Rank: Tarthane

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Senior Chief Petty Officer

Combat Grade Rank: Belthane

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Chief Petty Officer

Combat Grade Rank: Thane

Engineer Grade Rank: Searga

Equivalent to: *Petty Officer First Class

Combat Grade Rank: -NONE—

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Petty Officer Second Class

Combat Grade Rank: -NONE—

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

Equivalent to: *Petty Officer Third Class

Combat Grade Rank: Searga

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Seaman

Combat Grade Rank: -NONE—

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

—Equivalent to: *Seaman Apprentice

Combat Grade Rank: -NONE—

Engineer Grade Rank: -NONE—

Equivalent to: *Seaman Recruit

* Indicates Enlisted designation in Earth Navy. The Kriar do not possess a concept like enlisted. The Kriar military consists entirely of career professionals.

See Also:  kriar, tarkath

krillar — Weapons created by the Elder elite Loric Felspar. There were eighteen of these weapons, six staves, six swords, and six daggers. They are all powerful magic weapons that draw their strength from all the living things in the world around them.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric

—  L  —

Loki — Pantheon lord, god of fire and magic. Many would say trickery and deceit as well. Loki shifts his form often and is not the most mentally stable of the Vanir. Loki’s half-immort wife is Sigyn (pantheon lords cannot breed true with one another—but can copulate with half-immorts) with whom he has a daughter (Hella). He also has a mistress (Angrboda) who in mythology is a “giant”, but in actuality was a Dreel. (Rumor has it, that Angrboda is an alias for Vulcindra Skybane, and descriptions of “giant” Angrboda and Vulcindra coincide quite strongly.) Loki has two progeny by Angrboda—Fenrir (Fenris) and Jormungand, who are more often known as the Fenris Wolf and Midgard serpent. These mythical “monsters” were actually shapes taken by Loki’s half-dreel children.

Loki is not on particularly good terms with any of his children, and has a way of pissing off just about everybody. Bannor Starfist and Sarai T’Evagduran have several run-ins with Loki. During a battle with Odin’s High Jury, Odin and Loki have a sharp division after Odin attempts to slay Daena Sheento who had tao-merged with Hella. Loki had viciously denounced Daena as being merged with Hella but later reveals that he does indeed acknowledge this has happened (and considers her to be his daughter in fact). Loki rescues Daena and Sarai from Odin’s spear, only to later betray the group and get a good dragon stomping for his trouble.

Loki confronts Sarai later over what he sees as a threat to the pantheon lords. He believes her child will be born an ascendant, and that child will cause ragnarok (according to him). Daena, freshly rejuvenated from the valkyrie renewal spring pummels Loki brutally after he refuses to give up his attack on Sarai and Bannor.

Loki’s current whereabouts are unknown, but it is fairly certain he is still alive. He is on the outs with the Vanir for actions it is assumed he took against Balder and his son Forseti.

See Also:  dragon, T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess), tao

Luthice — A baronian war-witch hailing from the Karanganoi homeworld. She and her sister Senalloy both have an extraordinary knowledge of Kriar technology and artifices. Both sisters speak the Kriar high-tongue fluently which alone is very rare.

Beyond her millennia of hardened hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, Luthice is noted for her stealth abilities, and her understanding of locks and traps. In addition, she is an extremely accomplished mage rivaling the likes of Elsbeth Crowninshield and Aarlen Frielos. Those skills coupled with her Baronian physiology makes her a harrowing opponent.

At some point, Luthice came into the possession of Kriar master gate key. She has in some way managed to magically alter this technical tool and has used it on occasion to “hack” the Kriar time-gate network. Luthice is in possession of a kind of magic that allows transport between universal pockets. Something previously thought to only be possessed by the very oldest of the elder races the Jyril.

In return for being freed from captivity on Karanganoi homeworld, Luthice agreed to work as an agent for the pantheon lord Isis. Her infiltration skills and knowledge of magical security have been put to abundant use since.

As a diversion, Luthice joined up with a group of musicians headed by the infamous bard Arabella. With Luthice’s help, the red-haired bard persuaded the D’klace sisters Sindra and Drucilla to also participate in this odd musical endeavor. The group which they dubbed the “Rainbows in the Dark” is fast becoming renowned through the Ring Realms for their music. This is not surprising given that the skills and resources of three great elders are at the core of the group. Initially, this group started as a traditional bardic troop using common stringed and wind instruments. The three technically savvy elders eventually led the group to technical instruments like amplified guitars, keyboards, and rock-style band accoutrements. This band’s own unique style of “bardic rock” is an unmimickable mixture of vast elder life experience influenced lyrics, youthful creativity, and beautiful all-girl band novelty. This group became so profitable that even Aarlen Frielos wanted to manage for them.

Later, Eviria Felspar is engaged to Luthice, and the two of them live together in the Felspar citadel.

See Also:  kriar

—  M  —

mada — Elvish. Informal usage for ‘mother’.

mage — Simply a person who uses or is knowledgeable in the science of magic.

magestrix — Title given to the ruler of the fourth alliance. Aarlen Frielos has held this title for more than ten thousand cycles. The title was developed for her and is derivative of the words ‘magesty’, ‘mage’, and ‘dominiatrix’. Aarlen’s rule over the technical worlds is largely because of her skills both as a technologist and mage, and her even rarer talent of being able to blend the two.

magic — Magic in the Ring Realms is a science, but unlike a technical science it is an elitest pursuit. While anyone can study and understand biology, and put its principles to use, the same cannot be said for magic. It’s largely believed that all creatures have the ability to wield magic to a certain degree, however the spark which allows us to tap into that power is typically too small to do anything significant with. The evidence of this at work are those isolated moments in our lives when we experience déjá vu, briefly see another’s thoughts, or foretell the future.

While magic itself can be learned, the powers that can be attained cover a vast range, from simple hand illusions to the altering of reality on a interdimensional level. In some cases, creatures can substitute personal and psionic (mind power) energies for the gift that allows most mages to cast spells and manipulate magical energies.

Magic is not a specific energy or range of energies. It is more of metaphor that encapsulates a “principle” of action and reaction. In the Realms, the true magic is defined as:

The persistent ability to manipulate the environment in ways otherwise impossible without the utilization of natural phenomena, the influence or cooperation of physical bodies, or the use external artifices.

By this definition then, powers such as telepathy, and telekenesis, and other abilities of mind qualify as magic. However, they are not what is considered “traditional” or “ritual” magic.

Ritual magic uses the wielder’s magical spark and aspects of “sympathetic bonding” to generate chains of forces that act in place of birth-granted abilities to mentally tap and manipulate energy. In another regard, these ritual formulas substitute for an actual working knowledge of the mechanics and physics that make a particular feat possible. Rituals are coded schemes that at the basic level simply unleash simple reactions while at the higher complexities are actually sonic mnemonics that generate sympathic reactions in dimensional space that can unleash whole chains of complex energetic interactions. As a mage increases in power and knowledge, his/her reliance on “ritual” totems for the performance of magical feats grows less.

Magical sophistication falls into categories at follows:

1st Order

Raw Ritual

The most basic level where all principles of magic are taken by rote and no underlying understanding of the physics or laws is assumed. Most shamanistic magic exists at this level

2nd Order

Reinforced Ritual

Rituals are assisted by a rudimentary knowledge of natural laws and fundamental sciences. This is the level of most trained lower-order mages.

3rd Order

Academic Ritual

Rituals are combined and enhanced with more sophisticated studies and

scientific principles like chemistry and alchemy. Mages who have advanced to the point where they may expand their abilities without a mentor’s guidance have this level of magic.

4th Order

Elaborate Ritual

Lower order rituals can be performed by force of will alone. The mage’s

academic understanding of rituals and their interaction with nature and physics allows them to create simple rituals that can be followed by other mages. They can also alter rituals to create slightly different effects. At this level of skill, a mage can insinuate (“bind”) magical energies into an artifice. Magical staves, swords, wands, and the like are examples of this ability.

5th Order

Sophisticated Ritual

The mage begins to develop pseudo-psionic capabilities. Many lower-level rituals can be performed with little or no concentration. The mage’s reliance on ritual is now a matter of following “templates” or “guidepaths” which tap the interactions of energy. The mage begins to manipulate the powers “manually”.

6th Order

Psionic / Pseudo-Ritual

Pure psionics are considered to practice magic of the sixth order. However, a being who uses mental energies like telepathy or telekenesis do not have the broad scope of abilities a ritual mage typically possesses. On the other hand, a creature who can perform such feats without resorting to rituals tends to have more flexibly and control in their application. Generally, psionicists have greater capabilities in their narrow spectrum of power. Ritual mages at this level can work magical energies in abstract ways and can combine them into newer structures. Rituals become “source material” that can be treated as building blocks.

7th Order

Reinforced Psionic / Free ritual

At this level the creature’s psionic potential affects a broader spectrum of the physical world and chains of interaction can be stimulated into motion. They can perform feats like cellular adjustment (healing). Mages of this order rely little on ritual. Their understanding of ritual is complete enough that they can “make it up as they go”. They are essentially still using rituals but are now only using them as anchoring or controlling points in their magic.

8th Order

Psi-Master / Ritual Independent

Psionic creatures begin to exhibit broad powers that are in many ways like

ritual magic only performed by force of will alone. They can develop skills like self teleportation, dimensional travel, and can in some instances control their psyche so completely that they are independent of their physical bodies. Mages at this skill level no longer rely on ritual except for reference and ideas. They freely combine energies and are limited only by endurance of their physical bodies.

9th Order

Living Magic

The highest order of psionics and magic is cosmic or “living” magic where the creature becomes in tune with the physical nature of the cosmos and can manipulate it directly. The 9th order of magic is the top of the scale but creatures that possess this level of ability have a tremendous range in scope of their capabilities. At one end of the range might be the ability to control storms or perform miracle healing—in the Ring Realms the other end of the scale is the strength to destroy stars and alter the flow of time.

See Also:  energy, telepathy, teleportation

Malan — The kingdom of the elves north of Ivaneth ruled by King Jhaann T’Evagduran and Queen Kalindinai. Malan is one of the most powerful nations in Sharikaar.

See Also:  Sharikaar, T’Evagduran, Jhaann (King), T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

malanian — Of or hailing from Malan. See Malan.

Malbraion — Malbraion is the name of the residence in which Sarai lives. The whole wing in which the quarters reside is called Green Run. Malbraion has facilities to house and prepare meals for 30 people in addition to the maid staff of 8, the 6 stewards, and 4 permanent guards.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

matayan — A Matayan is a follower of the Lore-Knight’s code of ethics. The Matayan’s maintain an ethic of peace through knowledge. Matayan’s maintain high standards of personal and moral conduct and maintain that life is sacred and that force is the measure of last resort.

Matradomma — Elvish. A term of respect when addressing an Elven queen. Literally it means ‘mother of mothers’. Domma is the respectful form of address to older woman or a woman of higher station. It is the female gender equivalent of ‘sire’.

Mercedes — Level 12 Kriar mecha healer or cybermed currently in the employ of Bronawyn Shadowstalker. Though Bronawyn actually owns Mercedes’ contract. The good-hearted healer tries to help everyone she can. Bronawyn is extremely stingy with the expensive cyber’s time. Mercedes is considered an “elite-class” healer, which means specifically that she can upgrade (or enhance) other healer type mecha. Mecha physicians are the most advanced of all mecha created by the Kriar and possibly the most quirky and eccentric.

See Also:  cyber-unit, kriar, Shadowstalker, Bronawyn

mimi — Elvish. It is most often used as an affectionate term expressed to a loved one. It translates to the way the word ‘baby’ is used by a mother to a child. It can also be from wife to husband or vice versa.

mindspeak — Another word for telepathy. See telepathy.

mithril — A light strong metal that possesses magical properties even in its ‘raw’ state.

Mon’istiaga — A horrendously powerful sword created by the first one Shiva. It has the ability, in Wren Kergatha’s words, to cleave a world in two. Wren uses this weapon on a few occasions to devastating effect. She slew hundreds of demons and the physical essence of Hecate with this weapon. This artifact is the embodiment of destruction, and its true capabilities are unknown.

morgeer — A more evolved form of doppelgänger. They have greater stealth, speed, and magical ability. It is rumored these creatures can only be found in Silissia.

See Also:  doppelgänger

Myrgul, Duke — Son of King Tradholme’s sister. Sarai is engaged to be married to Myrgul, whom she refers to a ‘pig boy’.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

Myrmigyne — Member of an all woman clan of warriors. The Myrmigynes typically have isolated communities in the deep forests and jungles.

—  N  —

needleleaf — Tall evergreen tree common to the highlands and mountain regions, with a thin cylindrical leaf and pungent sap. They have a striking similarity to pine trees on earth.

Nethra — Eternal, tactical commander of the Protectorate and goddess of the Myrmigynes. Nethra’s shaladen surrogate is Talorin Falor.

Nethra is probably one of the more outgoing and accessible of the Eternals. Her relationship with Tal Falor is extremely informal (he calls her ‘boss’) and they indulge in some very loose banter. Despite appearances, the two are extremely efficient and deadly serious in their actual conducting of Protectorate business. Tal is a stickler for chain-of-command but is ultimately a results-oriented person. Nethra is much the same, thus the two of them get along extremely well.

Nethra is characterized by her flaming red hair which goes well with her passionate and expressive nature. She is physically the second strongest of the eternals behind Garn. Her skills in combat were legendary even before she became an eternal.

See Also:  Falor, Talorin {Tal}, shaladen

Nifelheim — In the dimension of Gladshiem, the land of the dead ruled over by the pantheon lady Hella.

nola — Used to refer to a savant’s magical power. In powerful savants the Nola can be a considered much like a living thing that inhabits his or her body.

Nova — Shaladen sword spiritually bound the eternal Nethra Argos. Nova confers the ability to open rips in time and space primarily for purposes of travel but usable in a myriad of ways. Initially, Algernon D’Tarin wielded this weapon but conflicts with Eternal Nethra prompted him to switch weapons with Talorian Falor. Tal Falor is now the current wielder of the weapon and he and Nethra share an excellent working relationship considered one of the best in the Shael Dal.

See Also:  D’Tarin, Algernon, Falor, Talorin {Tal}, shaladen

Numinor — Numinor is the world that was home to the Numinorian race.

Numinorian — The Numinorians of old Numinor are one of the elder races lost in antiquity. Much of the pseudo sciences like magic, fighting, alchemy, and the development of chimerae can trace their roots to the lore left behind by this culture. The Numinorians were the ultimate magical “scientists” pushing the limits of the art and what it was capable of. At some point the core counsel of Numanor became obsessed with the discovery of the power of ultimate entropy. The ability to control life itself, to be able to harness the decay of all of living things. This pursuit ultimately ended in the destruction of their people. Loric Felspar is the only known living member of their race.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric

—  O  —

Odin — Pantheon lord, ruler of the Aesir. Odin is god of the atmosphere and warriors. Odin is the father of Thor with his discarded wife Jord.

—  P  —

praelor — Elvish. Praelor is a rank in the Elf military. A praelor commands two squads of four men. A field unit usually consists of (9 individuals) one praelor, two midachs, and six soldiers.

—  Q  —

quasar — Quasi-Stellar. Bodies in space which emit light and radio waves.

—  R  —

Rankorhaaz — Six armed greater fiend created by Hecate. Previous to Bannor’s enhancing of Wren’s powers, she had been unable to destroy this armored, regenerating, extremely powerful creature.

Ratch, Boss —

Thug leader hired to capture Sarai.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

rhinotaur — Rhinotaurs are uncommon (thank heavens!) creatures that live in various locations throughout the Ring Realms. They mostly have been spotted in Silissia, but have also been encountered in southern Corwin and in northern Coormeer. Rhinotaurs bare a rudimentary resemblance to centaurs, only they are far larger and covered with a hard gray exo-skeleton. When fully grown, the four footed aspect of the Rhinotaur can reach 3 paces high at the shoulder and can be as much as 2 paces across the chest. Specimens weighing more than 3000 stone have been brought down.

The armored hide of the Rhinotaur is equal to twenty overlapping layers of leather and conventional weaponry is all but useless against this defense. The humanoid torso of this creature is proportional in length to the shoulder height of its four footed body and is covered with the same thick gray armor. The arms are thick and powerful and end in four-fingered hands that possess an opposable thumb. The humanoid head has broad flat features and thick square teeth for pulverizing whatever food isn’t already pulverized. A single thick horn protrudes from the creature’s forehead. These creatures possess no language, but do make rudimentary use of tools. They commonly use huge clubs to bludgeon prey they run down. Rhinotaurs are vicious bad tempered and extremely territorial. Once enraged, they attack until slain. Because of this behavior they are sometimes used as extraordinarily powerful guard-dogs.

In combat, Rhinotaurs are a easily a match for an elder dragon because of the toughness of their armor. Rhinotaurs are stupid and thus can be easily controlled by a mage with the proper preparation and materials. This is, of course, the only way these creatures can be used in any guarding capacity. Rhinotaurs have been known to be used in the death spectacles arena combat. Legend has it that Rhinotaurs were created by grand lore-mage Theln of the Dream Merchants.

See Also:  dragon

Riverback — A small village east of Ivaneth. The village is destroyed in a conflict with Hecate’s avatars.

—  S  —

savant — savant is the common and generic term for creatures who possess the spark of Alpha. See ka’amok.

Roster of Savant Powers & Known Savants

Garmtur’shak Nola—savant of reality

Latis Nola—savant of time

Chakta Nola—savant of space

Ta’arthak Nola—savant of matter

Da’jhamack Nola—savant of attractions

Kel’varan Nola—savant of forces

Ishtar Nola—savant of magic

Kul’vita Nola—savant of life forces

Sil’kar Nola—savant of light

Nomtar Nola—savant of fire/cold

Lokar Nola—savant of elementals

Gellid Nola—savant of phasing

Tong Nola—savant of minds

Ein’Doc Nola—savant of traveling

Brill’Kes Nola—savant of sound

Mairn’Tete Nola—savant of gases

Mairn’Kath Nola—savant of metals

Mairn’Reth Nola—savant of organics

See Also:  ascendant, Kergatha, Vanidaar, Kergatha, Liandra {Wren} Idun-daughter, magic

scalebark — Sturdy heavy-boled trees with thick scale-like bark and extremely dense wood. Quite similar to an oak actually.

scanning —  The act of utilizing a scanner.

scoreday — A period of twenty days.

scrying — Scrying is the term used to describe magical remote observation. Scrying can be done through devices and through spells, and their a varying levels of strength that range anywhere from being able to see a few rooms away to being able to see events taking place on other planes of existence.

Shadowstalker, Bronawyn — Deposed princess of Silissia and adventurer, sister of Nevarr Shadowstalker who is now the current Castellan of Drakmourn. Member of the Brethren guild of Ivaneth. Bronawyn married Caldorian Felspar in 1101 N.I.S.

Bronawyn has two daughters by Caldorian: Cassopia and DonaRae.

Bronawyn was cast out of Silissian because of a bloody coup staged by Gabriella Sarn Ariok over the Kingdom’s harboring of the followers of Kali. Bronawyn’s parents and immediate family aside from her brother Nevarr were all slain.

Later when Nevarr returned to reclaim the Shadowstalker birthright from Gabriella through an arranged marriage, Bronawyn regained her royal titles and rights to the lands in Drakmourn.

Through her contacts in the Felspar family Bronawyn happened to meet Gwensullan Techstar, the matriarch of the powerful 2nd generation Kriar house of Techstar. The Kriar lady technologist was looking to purchase lands on habitable worlds and it so happened that Bronawyn was willing to sell the (to her) worthless chunk of desert on the western border of Drakmourn, several hundred square leagues of barren rock and sand that were uninhabitable (for humans). Bronawyn sold the land to Gwensullan against the urgings of many in the Felspar clan (especially Cassandra—the reasons for Cassandra’s desire to block her adopted great-grandmother’s land deal are murky). Bronawyn received a payment of several million Kriar comtimes for the land parcel, a currency valid only on the Kriar homeworld. Bronawyn had known that the comtimes could purchase Kriar ‘magicks’ far beyond the meager means of anything that could be bought with gold. With Dame Techstar’s assistance, she ventured to the Kriar homeworld searching through catalogs to find something appropriate to purchase with her money. Many of the first things she chose the Kriar simply would not sell to a “primitive”. After a long negotiation period, and purchases of several trivial items, Bronawyn came upon the idea of purchasing a Kriar cybermed. The Silissian princess had seen the miraculous healing abilities of cybermeds because she had seen the one Clan Felspar consulted from time to time for healing critical injuries and ailments. When she made the request to purchase a cybermed, surprisingly the approval was granted for the sum of two million comtimes. The reasons the Kriar allowed the sale of Mercedes’ contract are unclear, but it is surmised that Mercedes herself through the network of cybers on homeworld arranged her own ‘vacation’.

Mercedes lived as a member of the Felspar household and acted Bronawyn’s assistant and later the caregiver for Bronawyn’s two babies. It is believed that Bronawyn’s relationship to the clan was one of the other ulterior motives that Mercedes had when she arranged the approval for the contract. The Kriar, and the cyber hierarchy were intensely interested in the science of magic and this was a golden opportunity to study a whole household full of mages in their “natural environment”.

Not long after Mercedes became a part of their family, Bronawyn came up with a money-making scheme utilizing the cyber’s incredible healing ability. She would locate rich families that had members with incurable ailments, and for a price restore them to health.

While it was a good idea, the basically good-hearted and very “human” cyber would have nothing to do with this “selling life to the highest bidder” mercenary plot. Try as she might, Bronawyn could do nothing to persuade the cyber to cooperate. She was ready to give up the cyber as a wasted investment and try “to get her money back” when her far more diplomatic husband, Caldorian stepped in. He suggested a compromise, run a clinic that offered healing at whatever the patients could afford, if free, so-be-it, but whatever could be reasonably born by the patients and their family… They had to charge something as he later explained to Mercedes, in order to pay for the facilities and such to support the endeavor. With careful persuasion they were finally able to convince the cybermed to agree, and the Shadowstalker Miracle Clinic was born. Bronawyn was careful to limit the knowledge of this institution and help enough less fortunate people to satisfy Mercedes’ sense of equity, while raking in huge sums of cash from rich families desperate to cure the incurable. This enterprise was as can be imagined, wildly successful. Mercedes was only one individual though and there was a limit to what she could do. Bronawyn then branched out into pharmaceuticals, the cyber’s knowledge of advanced medicines made her capable of devising vaccines and inoculations of incredible worth. Again, to satisfy Mercedes she had to temper the sales providing the product to the poor as well as the rich. The enterprise continued, with Bronawyn organizing better and more efficient ways to utilize Mercedes skills while still satisfying the temperamental cyber’s saintly sense of equity.

As Bronawyn’s financial resources blossomed, she hatched another scheme. The Kriar wanted to purchase land in the idyllic core-worlds of the Ring Realms, however, Elsbeth Crowninshield was utilizing her vast resources as an elder elite, to block, intimidate sellers, and buy up land to prevent any Kriar homesteads from being created. Remembering her initial extremely profitable deal with house Techstar, Bronawyn saw another way to make money. She began buying land in the different locations where the Kriar were showing interest and secretly brokering it to agencies on Homeworld. This simple enterprise far outstripped the extraordinary profits that she had been bringing in with Mercedes. However, it was not long before Elsbeth learned that her embargo had been undermined and the Crimson Mage turned her wrath on the Princess. Only by fact of her being Loric’s daughter-in-law did Bronawyn escape severe punishment at the hands of the elder elite. It was while hiding behind Loric and Cassandra that Bronawyn decided that if she was going to make enemies like Elsbeth, that she needed serious protection. She put word out on homeworld that she would pay handsomely for Kriar bodyguard.

Bronawyn was teased by the Felspar family that there was no way that some ancient Kriar warrior would “babysit” a human for any amount of pay.

They were wrong. Not only did Bronawyn get an applicant, the one who answered the call was none other than retired Tarkath Eclipse Shargris, one of the most renowned warriors on homeworld. This development stunned the family elders. It was a conundrum as to whether they should allow Eclipse to be in or around the household. It wasn’t until Bronawyn threatened to move out that they finally agreed to allow it as long as Eclipse promised ‘good behavior’. This Eclipse did do but the ancient Kriar’s assurances did little to calm misgivings. Loric knew if this impossibly old creature decided to cause trouble there was virtually nothing he or anyone else in the citadel could do.

Eclipse became the next Kriar member of Bronawyn’s household within a household. Loric’s unease proved unwarranted, the Tarkath turned out to be a model houseguest causing decidedly less trouble than the mistress he hired on to guard. In fact, he helped Cassandra out with several thorny problems which helped ease tensions. It was shortly thereafter Eclipse’s acceptance that family members discovered Desiray’s involvement with the rogue Kriar Quasar, who by coincidence was Eclipse’s mate. Which involvement came first remains in question, but it soon became clear that the Felspar clan had some ancient Kriar mercenaries now vacationing in their midst.

It was shortly after these events that the elder elite Aleesha Cloudwalker, who had recently come back on the scene due to the efforts of Cassandra and Dorian, got wind of Bronawyn’s recent hijinx. For whatever reason, the elder elite took exception to the Silissian woman and decided to make an end of her. Only the intervention of Eclipse prevented Bronawyn from meeting an untimely “conversion” to the light.

The rivalry between Aleesha and Bronawyn continues. The elder elite is waiting for Eclipse to get tired of protecting Bronawyn, and then she shall finally have her way…

***

For those time conscious individuals, the aforementioned details concerning Eclipse come after the events in both Savant’s Blood and in Shaladen Chronicles: A Knot In Time. They have already taken place by the time of the events in Reality’s Plaything.

***

See Also:  cyber-unit, Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Loric, Felspar Clan, Felspar, Caldorian, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Kirikos, Dame, kriar, kriar ranks, Mercedes, Shargris, Eclipse, Shadowstalker, Nevarr, shaladen, tarkath

Shadowstalker, Nevarr — Younger brother of Bronawyn Shadowstalker, and only surviving male member of the Shadowstalker royal family. Nevarr, returned to Silissia to validate the Ariok coup. He married the Sabella Ariok as a gesture to bind the Shadowstalker and Ariok families, and restore the Shadowstalker stewardship of the Kingdom of Drakmourn.

See Also:  Shadowstalker, Bronawyn

shaladen — A weapon made of the spirit metal shael dal. The most notable Shaladens are those wielded by the ki’succorund surrogates of the eternals. See eternals.

The shaladens of the eternals are a physical manifestation of that particular eternal’s spirit that has been combined into alloy of ishtite, adamantine, and krill. The resulting material is for most practical purposes indestructible. See krill.

All of the shaladens have a ‘vorpul’ quality edge. When a user is “bound” to any of the blades the following abilities are conferred to the wielder: ·

Physical enhancement: All wielders are endowed with varying degrees of enhanced strength and resistance to physical injury. The smallest such enhancement (provided by the shaladen Cataract) confers strength sufficient to lift 30 stone overhead without straining. The body is toughened to the point that the user’s bare skin is as resistant to injury as if they were wearing chain mail. Most of the blades confer a limited form of “environment adaptation” that allows operation in hostile environments including airless space for a short periods of time. ·

Unlimited telepathy: this ability allows mental communication across any normal-space distance, and in many cases across trans-dimensional distances as well. This communication can take place regardless of whether the target creature has any telepathic ability. ·

Cross-culture idiomatic language translation: The shaladen confers the ability to synchronize with a particular creature to speak and understand in their mother tongue. The spoken language is as non-biased and idiomatically correct as is possible when translating the wielder’s thoughts to words in the target language. ·

Point-to-point summoning: A wielder can “summon” another wielder via plane-shifting provided the other wielder is willing and not resisting the transfer. The “summonee” must be conscious and able to grant permission for the summoning to work. The “call” of the blades is very powerful and can occur across dimensional barriers and through all but a few kinds of magical and technological defenses. ·

Temporal autonomy: After binding with an eternal shaladen, the wielder is thereafter completely immune to the effects of time. They do not age, and chronological shifts and attacks are ineffective. The shaladen acts as an anomaly compensator allowing the wielder to function in back-time without causing downstream event disruption. The shaladen’s most unique power is its ability to confer pan-temporal uniqueness. The wielder cannot meet his “alternate” parallel time-lines. ·

Undetectability: As a function of its anomaly compensation, under normal circumstances the wielder of the shaladen is completely undetectable. The user’s presence is not registered by electronic or magical devices. There have been some agencies which developed items specifically for the detection and tracking of the Shael Dal, but in most of the cases the eternals soon confiscated the devices.

shapeshifting — Literally, the altering of a creatures physical form. In the case of more sophisticated magic, this can also mean assuming special abilities, and in the most extreme cases taking on a new aura, memories and even personality.

Shargris, Eclipse — Tarkath of the Kriar Shrike Legion Elite, twelve time decorated hero of the Jyril conflicts, and various war causes. Eclipse was a career military warrior with extreme patriotic dedication to his people. He and his close companion Quasar Diliaysus were two of the best warriors the Kriar corps ever saw. On many occasions these two resilient warriors were the last Kriar standing in several unfortunate encounters.

See Also:  kriar, kriar ranks, tarkath

Sharikaar — The largest continental landmass on Titaan. The major continents of Titaan in order of size are Sharikaar, Fraestar, Canth, Pedon, and Silissia.

sharonsheen — The shaladen focus for Protectorate Prime Commander Koass Vinax. Koass’ wife Megan wields the reality altering powers of Sharonsheen.

See Also:  shaladen

Sheento, Daena — An orphaned teenage savant whom Bannor meets in order for her to bind with her beta half, the Aesir pantheon lord Hella. Daena is a Da’Jhamack Nola, a savant of attractions. Daena joins with Hella, and the two merge into what is thought to be a reincarnation of a first one. Daena’s natural abilities equal and in some cases surpass that of a pantheon lord. She has virtually limitless astral strength, and amazing powers of recovery. Daena’s biggest limitation is her age and inexperience. Having the powers of a goddess and knowing how to use them are different things. Though she is learning quickly, it will be some time before she ever realizes a significant portion of her full potential.

Daena now lives as the protégé of Princess Janai T’Evagduran of Malan, who is educating and gentrifying the young girl turned first one. The youngster has already learned to alter her shape at will, and can now transport herself across vast distances through psionic teleportation. The Malanian princess’ real intentions for Daena are an ongoing issue for concern.

shields — (generic) For a force-field (c.f.) protecting an area.

sil’matra — Translated literally this term means ‘bright mother’ or ‘star mother’. It is typically used as a respectful form of address for a woman who is older or of higher station. In the novel Gaea’s Legacy, Cassandra uses this form when speaking to Queen Kalindinai (rather than her given title “Matradomma”). Ordinarily, this would be considered disrespectful, but in that particular situation the Queen wanted a favor from Cassandra that she couldn’t get elsewhere. By using the lesser title, Cassandra was testing to see how badly Kalindinai wanted the particular favor. If Kalindinai let it pass without comment, it showed that it was important enough she wouldn’t risk rebuffing Cassandra’s deliberate misuse of title.

See Also:  Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Matradomma, titles/honorifics, T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

Silissia — Large island continent in the southern hemi-sphere of Titaan. Silissia is renowned for the evil creatures which have bred and grown in its territories. Most notable are the enclaves of evil dragons that have extensive cavern networks on the borders of the Silissian desert.

silissian — Someone from Silissia. see Silissia.

Skyedoom, Ziedra — Ziedra Skyedoom is an expatriate noblewoman of the eastern Silissian kingdom of Drakmourn. Daughter of General Zhentar Skyedoom, and Beldwin Skyedoom. At a young age, Ziedra was sent away from her home to seek refuge in the Sharikaarian city of Corwin. There Ziedra joined up with a band of gypsies for shelter and refuge. She later met and befriended Wren Kergatha another orphaned young girl. Wren joined the Brethren guild and with her guild earnings supported herself and Ziedra for many seasons. In the interim Ziedra began learning to dance, and over a span of seasons grew famous and prosperous on her own. She took up with royalty and she and Wren gradually grew apart. Ziedra’s prosperity was not to last, she dallied with the wrong man and was forced to escape Corwin with city guard on her heels. Again destitute, the young woman wandered from kingdom to kingdom doing odd jobs and staying ahead of the princess’ agents. She finally ended up in the port city of Ivaneth where she again met up with an older wiser Wren Kergatha who again took her under her wing.

It shortly after this reunion that Ziedra’s destiny was to truly crystalize. Through Wren’s recent acquaintances she met Bronawyn Shadowstalker, one of the only surviving family members of the uprising that killed her father. She also discovered her father’s relationship to family Frielos, discovering she was actually the niece of Caladar Skyedoom the paramour of Aarlen Frielos. The revelations were not to end there. Wren Kergatha also discovered that Ziedra was a savant, an Ishtar Nola, a savant of magic.

Through circumstances, Ziedra was forced to develop skills quickly simply to survive the events that her relationship with Wren got her involved in. Ziedra learned sword fighting and ended up as an magical apprentice of Aarlen Frielos.

As an Ishtar Nola, Ziedra is a natural mage, able to learn spells simply by touching the caster during the incantation. She has an eidetic memory that allows her to memorize movements and vocal sounds with the briefest exposure. Her ability to couple memorization and the coordination of her body makes Ziedra an incredible student of any coordination reliant skill. This ability is sophisticated enough that she can build skills virtually as fast as she is exposed to the nuances. The Ishtar Nola also allows the reading of magical auras. Ziedra can read not only the properties of magic, but can discern details about the caster who created the enchantments. As a living avatar of magic Ziedra is extremely resistant to harmful magicks, and totally impervious to all forms of magical charms, paralyzation, control and domination. She can manipulate magical energies much the same way the Kel’Varan Nola manipulates forces. This control combined with her personification of magic allows Ziedra to use a magic item that would otherwise work only for a specific person. The exact limits of this last skill are unknown, but it is believed that her nature as ‘magick’s mistress’ causes all magical items to see her as their ‘true creator‘. The pantheon lord Isis possesses a similar capability and some surmise she is the tao-beta to the Ishtar Nola.

See Also:  Shadowstalker, Bronawyn, tao

Skyweir — Master devote of the martial arts, and legendary hand-to-hand combat expert. Skyweir is a second generation member of the Band of the Crescent moon. This sturdy monk’s steel-hard hands have lent support to many a quest. For much of his career he was the companion of, and worked with, the monk Giquokor who was another master of the open-hand. Together, the first to negotiate, and often the first into any combat. Their bravery and honor were well regarded by all the members of the Band.

Snowfire — Name of the intelligent shape changing weapon utilized by Beia Targallae. Snowfire is far more than just a weapon but a living autonomous being. This became even more prevalent after he was promoted to honorary shaladen status and Zarr Benwarr of the eternals granted him the powers of eternity. When not actively in the shape of a weapon or a piece of jewelry on Beia’s person, Snowfire prefers the shape of a small dragon. He is a especially fond of gems. He consumes cheap jewels for energy and hoards precious stones whenever he can.

Though he is Beia’s weapon, in many ways Snowfire thinks of her as a posession. This was probably intentional on Aarlen’s part when she made the weapon, as he jealously guards Beia from any who would do her harm. Snowfire is strongly masculine, a fact which at times rubs Beia the wrong way.

As a shaladen imbued with a portion of Stellaraac’s (and hence eternal Foross’ power), Snowfire is a master of shape altering powers, both in his own form and Beia’s. Additionally, he can control other materials and creatures as well by absorbing them. Doing forced shape absorption of unwilling intelligent creatures is a frowned upon practice however…

See Also:  dragon, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Solaris, Marna (Counsel) (Vatraena) — Marna Solaris is the spiritual mother of the Kriar race, and the oldest living Kriar in existence. While the persona of the Vaetrana dates back to before the launching of homeworld, she is only in spirit that same person. Untold millions of cycles old, the Prime Mother of the Kriar has been through renewal thousands of times. While she is (in spirit) the eldest Kriar, she is, in many ways, the youngest because she has forgotten so much of her past in antiquity.

Marna is the undisputed mistress of the Kriar warp science, and the most skilled time diver on Fabrista homeworld. She is rivaled only by military commander Tarkath Quasar Diliaysus, who uses extensive matrix enhancements to increase her powers. In addition to her time diving capabilities, Marna is able to perform n-space folding by pure force of will. This talent is the ability to cause the atomic and sub-atomic structure of matter to twist upon itself and occupy higher order dimensions. This process can be likened to taking a two dimensional object and folding it so it occupies three dimensions. Marna can take three dimensional matter and “fold” it so that it occupies four and even higher order spaces.

After the adoption of Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri by house Techstar, it became a fashion among the Kriar nobility to start interacting with the humanity and skilled mages in particular. The ability of magic to overcome something Kriar science could not opened many eyes, and sparked intense interest in learning the secrets of magic. Also, humans being young and impressionable, made them excellent protégés. The Kriar being empaths, derive a great deal of satisfaction being around creatures who still experience excitement and passion. They can feel “vicariously” through their empathy, emotions and sensations that they themselves have become numb to due to hundreds of millennia of life.

See Also:  Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, kriar, kriar ranks, tarkath

spectrum — The distribution of energy arranged in order of wavelengths.

Starbinder, Dulcere Val’Saedra — Daughter of Marna Solaris by her second husband Louvros. Dulcere is a well regarded Belkirin who commanded the star vessel Tiraka. While trying to defend her ship, Dulcere fought a hand-to-hand battle with the blue eternal named Garn. She was subsequently injured and forced to make planetfall, where a mishap with her damaged command-level power matrixes caused a cliff to collapse and bury her. The avalanche forced her into stasis, which over a long period of time allowed her to heal.

Many millennia later she was uncovered by Meridian Arcturan and Rakaar Steelsheen who used magic to control her. They later bound her to a device and used her timediving powers to cause a massive time quake (isolinear diffraction). Dulcere eventually escapes control and joins forces with Corim Vale, Beia Tarallae, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri Felspar, and Annawen Kel’Ishtauri Felspar. Together the group manages to undo the damage caused by Meridian and restore time to normal.

As a reward for her assisting the humans, the Jyril Vasar Sa’Gairin removes the curse from Dulcere’s body. The ancient Kriar is very confused when she begins to have feelings for Corim. Eventually, they do begin to grow closer. However, their relationship is made difficult by others who also have amorous intentions for Corim.

See Also:  Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, kriar, kriar ranks, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Starfist, Bannor — Border guardian for the Barony of Tenax. He holds the rank of captain in the Baron’s ranger regulars. Bannor has the power of the Garmtur Shak’Nola (A savant of reality) which gives him control over the threads of probability, interaction, and creation. His senses allow him to perceive the forces, energies, and interactions of matter and energy through simple concentration. As part of his power he can recognize and memorize such patterns instantly in order to later manipulate them.

Bannor’s control over the Garmtur is rather limited, so it often acts in undesirable and sometimes self-destructive ways. Bannor is a skilled warrior with a several years of battle experience. He uses the Jac’Daw style of two-handed fighting which is specifically tailored for axe combat. Bannor is proficient in tracking, plant, and animal identification. As a scout, he is extremely familiar with the borderlands, and has become a proficient in cartography (map making). Bannor is twenty seven years old and engaged to Sarai T’Evagduran the 3rd princess of Malan.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

stasis — The cessation of relative time for an object or area. A stasis by definition arrests the decay of matter within its confines.

Steelsheen, Rakaar — Powerful Baronian warmage forced to serve Meridian Arcturan in his attempt to destroy the Protectorate. Rakaar proved on many occasions to be both a skilled user of magic and a nearly unstoppable sword combatant. He defeated the extremely experienced Dakwhirter Ironfist in a pitched battle with a lucky con’gorot move. He later fought an undecided match against Beia Targallae who technically got the better of him through a surprise move. His most prolonged combat was with 16th ranked Talorin Falor where the battle was essentially a stalemate until a chance opening allowed Tal to cripple Rakaar and force him to retreat. Of the battles he fought, only the ancient belkiran warrior Dulcere Starbinder was his superior, and only then when she was at full strength.

Rakaar is particularly significant for his possession of the Genemar, a weapon he stole from the Baronian hierarchy. This powerful device is being sought by a number of agencies, none of whom have yet located it. No-one yet knows much about the genemar, and whatever Rakaar knew of it was taken to his grave when Corim Erik Vale defeated him in battle with the shaladen Starwind. Rakaar did describe the item as ‘creation run amok’ but nothing else.

Rakaar had in his service a trained battle-nurse named Senalloy whom Corim subsequently frees. Senalloy is the blood sister of another Baronian woman named Luthice.

See Also:  Falor, Talorin {Tal}, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

stone — Measure of weight. For those concerned with Terran equivalents, a stone is equal to 20 pounds or just hair over 9 kilograms.

—  T  —

T’Evagduran, Janai (2nd Princess) — Janai is Kalindinai’s second daughter and around 500 cycles old. Of the Queen’s three daughters, Janai is actually the most rebellious, however, unlike her younger sibling she is much better at hiding it. Janai has a reputation as a schemer and a hedonist, but is well liked in Malanian court despite this. The princess is well traveled and has significant holdings outside of Malan. She owns countryside keeps and apartments in Ivaneth, Corwin, and Coormeer. She also has holdings in Canth and Pedon. She is rumored to have a controlling interest of one of the Nomarian trade guilds. Both of Janai’s husbands have died under suspicious circumstances. In both cases, the marriages had been arranged by her father. Her first husband died in one of the Realm wars. However, he died well inside territory controlled by Malan. A much decorated warrior, though the bodies of enemies were found around him. One court physician maintains the wound responsible for his slaying was actually an arrow shot. Evidence of this was never formally brought to the Malanian court however. Her second husband was slain in a magical duel. Strangely, both duelists were killed in the fight along with their seconds. The incident was considered a “freak accident of magical amplification”. The fireblast that hit the combatants was far in excess of what either Elf could generate. The families of the four slain men maintain that Janai had a hand in their death. This was never brought to court because it was well known that Janai possessed no talents in magic.

Janai and Sarai constantly fence with each other verbally and socially, and though they openly display hostility toward one another, they are quick to rally in defense of one another. Janai has great deal of respect for her older sister Ryelle, to whom she gives more deference to than even her mother at times. Some sources speculate that the eldest sister Ryelle knows something about Janai that keeps the younger sister step and fetch…

Janai is a natural with the bow, and takes top honors in any tournament she enters. She has beaten her father on two occasions who is renowned through the realms for his skill. Because her father takes losing badly, she has never again entered a tournament in which he was competing.

Janai is a schemer and a hedonist. She has significant magical talents which she keeps secret due to certain obligations imposed on Malanian citizens who are mages. Janai has no children.

After events in ‘Neath Odin’s Eye, Daena Sheento becomes Janai’s One, much to the chagrin of the King and Queen. Same sex One’s are not unknown, but regarded with some bemusement. Officially, Daena is Janai’s ward prodigal.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen), T’Evagduran, Ryelle (1st Princess), T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess)

T’Evagduran, Jhaann (King) — King T’Evagduran ascended to the throne of Malan 1116 summers ago at the age of 972, and has had a fairly peaceful rule throughout. Malan has fought many skirmishes, but the conflicts were short lived due to the military and magical might commanded by house T’Evagduran. Jhaann is reputed to be the best archer in all of Sharikaar. Only his daughter Janai can contend against him, and she does not participate in warfare. He has moderate magical skills and is capable of enchanting minor magic items. Jhaann married Kalindinai in his 115th summer of rule. He and his wife have been married for 999 summers. They have had three daughters.

See Also:  Sharikaar, T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen) — Queen Kalindinai became the bride of Malan 999 summers ago at the age of 1153. She is a well respected and regarded queen who travels extensively within the borders of Malan conducting affairs of state. Kalindinai is what as known as a wilder mage, possessing extraordinarily strong magical and mental abilities. Her skills are only equivalent to an arch-magi but the power of her magic is significantly greater. It is the Queen’s participation in some of Malan’s border skirmishes that have caused the conflicts to end so quickly. The Matradomma is a devastating warmage and capable of destroying entire legions. Because of her intimidating reputation, Kalindinai often conducts negotiations on behalf of Malan. Kalindinai has three daughters.

See Also:  Matradomma, titles/honorifics

T’Evagduran, Ryelle (1st Princess) — Ryelle is Kalindinai’s first daughter, born one summer after she was married to the King. Ryelle is 998 summers old. Ryelle is the steady daughter, who has always gotten along with both her parents. She is good at keeping her sisters under control when necessary, and get her sisters out of trouble when their stubbornness causes problems. Ryelle has never married though she has had several serious relationships that each time were thought would end in marriage. Her younger sister Janai maintains that she scares potential husbands away with talk of duty and loyalty to the affairs of the realm.

See Also:  T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

T’Evagduran, Sarai (3rd Princess) — Sarai is Kalindinai’s youngest daughter and is 473 summers old. Sarai idolizes her father and was the only daughter to join the Malanian military. Disguising her identity, she entered the ranks as a common recruit and earned her way to high Praelor of the hippogriff elite before it was discovered she was in fact the crown princess. Because of this, she is well regarded and respected amongst the officers and regulars of the Malanian forces. Sarai is skilled in the sword and bow, and served in three cavalry campaigns. She has some minor skills in magic. Sarai is the most independent of the daughters, and very direct in her manner. It is this directness that causes her to clash with her father who feels a need to reign in his willful daughter. Shortly after her enforced engagement to Duke Myrgul Tradeholme, Sarai slipped out of Malan. She later found Bannor Starfist in borderlands and fell in love with him. They later decided to get engaged.

See Also:  Myrgul, Duke, T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

talonlancer — A Elven legion specializing in spear and griffonback riding.

tan’acho — The highest level of awareness and affinity with the forces of the cosmos. The Garmtur Shak’Nola can reach this affinity. Bannor briefly experiences Tan’Acho without knowing it while fighting Hethanon in a lakeside clearing.

tao — The spirit force of savants. The tao is a far stronger essence than that of a typical mortal, able to retain consciousness and identity for extended periods of time outside of a physical shell. The tao can all retain and capture the essence of mortal life-forces and keep them intact within its matrix, incorporating that pseudo-life into the host entity.

Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen) —Summary

Queen of the Jhandris’Kul clan of Myrmigynes that reside in the great tree Duran’Gravar. Beia is a survivor of the arcturan death spectacles, victor of 611 bouts, 7 losses and 12 draws. She wears the shadowbolt tattoo and in an acknowledged 12th circle grand master of the Jac Daw and Dan Sadad fighting styles. She is a renowned archer and hunter as well. See has a younger sister named Ess. Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri is her adopted ‘clan sister’.

History

Beia has a long and sordid past. Raised in the arenas she new nothing but gladiatorial combat until the age of 26 when she escaped the arena’s with the assistance T’Gor D’Shar. T’Gor had been drafted in the arenas as an outside competitor, lured there by promises of great weapons, fabulous wealth, and the best fight training available in the realms. Most of this being true if one could manage to win seven combats in a row—which draftees rarely did.

Beia served as an arena “ringer” or blockmaster an impossible opponent set up to defeat draftees so that they would be forced to continue their gladiatorial contracts. As a lifer, a pit fighter born in the arena, freedom could only be achieved by going one hundred battles undefeated. As Meridian Arcturan’s star fighter, Beia suffered exactly one defeat every hundred battles through various tricks rigged by the evil mage.

One of the conditions of defeating an opponent in the arenas is that the warrior may opt to take 2 of that person’s belongings, or take that person into servitude. Part of Meridian’s twisted arena schemes is that his riggers were often able to defeat their opponents without slaying them outright. These hapless people would be carted off the field hanging by a thread where revival magicks would be used to restore them to health. Each revival cost the contractee seven battles. So, in defeat not only did they still need to fight seven more battles, they owed seven more. As a result draftees rarely could rarely overcome the deficit of owed fights to earn their way out.

T’Gor D’Shar fought for three years in the arenas, learning the Dan Sadad from various blockmasters. He deliberately forfeited optional matches to maintain his contract but not dig himself into a hole where he could not win his way out.

When he felt he had learned everything of value, he began his push to win his way clear of the arena. Unfortunately, T’Gor had become rather popular and had a reputation for winning all the big fights. When it looked like T’Gor would get himself free. Meridian arranged to have him fight Beia.

The fight was vicious and Beia was more than challenged by this powerful draftee. However, her greater experience and wild animal power (plus a little rigging by Meridian) ensured that she defeated him. This being her six hundredth battle, Beia resented that Meridian had robbed her of a fair fight. She chose to take T’Gor’s service rather than deprive him of his magic items.

It was during this service time that T’Gor and Beia got to know one another. Both of them were mutually angry at Meridian’s rigs, T’Gor for being duped, and Beia for being robbed of an honorable challenge against a worthy opponent. It was during this time that T’Gor convinced Beia to try to leave the arenas. Years of conditioning and abuse had made her believe that it was not possible to overcome Meridian.

T’Gor believed different. His plan was to request a special challenge rematch and have Beia throw the fight. He would “kill” her and collect the body as his spoils. Of course, there was the little matter of winning six more fights. With Beia’s additional training and coaching, T’Gor won the six fights and made the special challenge against Beia.

It was this “special challenge bout” that brought Beia to the attention of Aarlen Frielos. Unbeknownst to Beia and T’Gor, the fight had been rigged so BOTH warriors would end up in a three way match and get defeated. This was known to the spectators but not the two warriors. It was Aarlen who made the gave the gift of Tariegron, the great battle blade to Beia right before the fight. The odds ranged from fifty to one to over a hundred-to-one against the two fighters surviving.

The battle was horrendous, invisible block masters, monsters and a host of trickery was turned against them. However, Meridian had not counted on Tariegron’s vorpul edge nor the determination of the two. When the dust had settled they had defeated four Rhinotaurs, a half dozen hidden block masters, and several other fighters. Gasping for breath, facing Meridian’s box the two of them looked up at him defiantly. While Beia stood their glaring at the evil mage, T’Gor stepped back and slammed Beia across the back of the head, knocking her unconscious and “defeating” her for the seventh time. T’Gor claimed her “body” as the spoils. Emotions from this titanic struggle were so high and audience involvement so great that Meridian was forced to release T’Gor who in turn pulled Beia from the arena.

After a brief stint with freedom and recovery, Beia and T’Gor would return to the arena to help others escape the rigged battles including Beia’s younger sister Ess.

On the outside Beia would go through a long recovery and acclimation process. She became “attached” to Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri after serving as bodyguard for her in a few adventures. The gold mage and her friend Dorian would eventually soften the hard exterior of this cold fighting machine and bring out her real emotions and feminine nature.

She would go on to make friends with Talorin Falor, and become the widely regarded teacher of pit fighting techniques. Tal would eventually persuade Beia in backing a campaign to destroy all of Meridian’s arenas.

Years later she would meet and grow close to Aarlen Frielos.

See Also:  Falor, Talorin {Tal}, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri

tarkath — Combat and engineer grade rank in the Kriar military equal to a rear admiral. See also Kriar Ranks.

See Also:  kriar, kriar ranks

Tarrantil, Bertram — Active member of the Shael Dal wielding the honorary Shaladen weapon Golnir. Bertram is the high Justicar of Ukko, the highest ranking law upholding religious figure on the continent of Sharikar. Bertram is married to Desiray Illkaren Felspar for particular political reasons too complicated to enumerate here. Desiray is also married to Loric Felspar and Brin Ishtarvariku. Bertram has six birth children from a previous marriage to Thamara Narrimar. Recently Bertram married Val’siden D’Tarin (the daughter of Lord Algernon D’Tarin). Bertram has close to thirty adopted sons and daughters.

See Also:  D’Tarin, Algernon, Felspar, Desiray Illkaren, Felspar, Loric, shaladen

Techstar, Ivral — Ivral Techstar is the youngest of the Kriar at (only 156,000 years old). Like the rest of her people she was cursed with infertility and sense deprivation by the Jyril. Complex genetic locks prevented the Kriar from cloning or engineering away the reproductive and sensory disorder. To ensure race survival Kriar extended their lives until a normal reproductive and evolutionary cycle could begin again. In early 1078 N.I.S Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri Felspar cured the Kriar gene lock using the power of Eternity.

Ivral Techstar had previously come in contact with Cassandra because she had been seeking the Kriar’s help in apprehending a rogue Kriar warrior (and political leader) named Daergon Surr. Also during that time Cassandra was still adjusting to the Kriar power matrixes that she had acquired during the quest against Hellzan. The stones had been “healing” her—the end result being a slow metamorphosis to Kriar physiology.

Through Ivral, Cassandra learned about the Jyril curse. She eventually decided to assist the race in reclaiming their normal evolution. A year later she did succeed and became an instant hero amongst the Kriar people. The Kriar government however was wary of Cassandra, this (to them) virtual infant had overcome in a single year what they had spent a thousand millennia trying to defeat. It was decided that a guardian should be assigned to the mage. Ivral being the youngest Kriar, and already knowing Cassandra, was selected to be that liaison. It was decided that “adoption” was the best way to give Cassandra legal citizenship on Homeworld and further assist in the Kriar hierarchy in keeping track of this powerful mage.

Though initially the adoption was a matter of convenience, Ivral eventually came to know and care for Cassandra. After many millennia of being unable to reproduce, the Kriar psyche is rather preoccupied with procreation and child- rearing. To someone a thousand millennia old, Cassandra is still a child. Ivral by stages became in function as well as name—Cassandra’s mother. Dame Techstar (Ivral’s birth mother), eventually became infatuated with her grand-child mostly because of Cassandra’s daughters (Cassin and Annawen) who were children (in human terms) and born Kriar.

The Techstar family has profited enormously by Cassandra’s addition to their ranks, as the mage’s “star status” among Kriar is worth a great deal in favors, media deals, and other “celebrity status” benefits. This, of course, certainly hasn’t hurt Cassandra’s popularity among the members of her adoptive family.

See Also:  Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, Kirikos, Dame, kriar

telepathic — The ability to communicate via mental projection. The capabilities of telepaths ranges from simple impressions that can only be communicated across a room to creatures like the Eternals and pantheon lords that can physically control several creatures across interstellar distances.

telepathy — The ability to project / communicate via mental energies. See telepathic.

See Also:  mindspeak

teleport — The act of teleporting. See teleportation.

teleportation — Magical teleportation was originally developed by Mandrimin (c.f.). The simple explanation is that it is a magical process which allows instantaneous transport between two locations. For the technical mage, teleportation involves two phases, the first being the extraction a simulcraic derivation of the source matter from chaotic space, then a fractal compression of the interpolated particulate helices is performed. The corresponding magical data is then compact enough to do matter / energy exchange with the target locale where the simulcra are reconstructed into their approximations. Note that the source and destination are no longer the same, but extremely accurate approximations created out of the templates located in mathematical space. [Complicated isn’t it? That’s why it takes special training to be a mage! ]

temporal — Of or pertaining to Time.

tenday — Like it sounds—ten days.

Teritaani — A human-like elder race that live in the remote parts of the Ring Realms. Aarlen Frielos is a notable member of the Teritaani.

Terranath, Damrosil — Damrosil is a 2nd generation member of the Band of the Crescent Moon. She has freebooted across many planets and participated in numerous adventures. Damrosil was a longtime companion of Tiernia Nirvanae and the two of them had numerous encounters with the Dream Merchants and their operatives. Damrosil and Tiernia grew apart in their later years as Tiernia settled down to build a bard school. Damrosil went on to fight in the Arcturan Death Spectacles and made the acquaintance of Beia Targallae.

Damrosil escaped the arena and shortly thereafter assumed leadership of the Jhandris’Kul clan of Myrigynes. Several years later, Beia also escaped the spectacles and returned to her home among the clans. Itching to begin adventuring again, Damrosil willingly stepped down from her seat as queen and gave the position to Beia. It was shortly after this period that the Eternal Yi began the reformation of the Protectorate with the help of Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri Felspar. By that time, Damrosil had already found the Shaladen blade Cybersong. Since Damrosil had bonded with the weapon, and few better warriors existed, the protectorate asked her to join their ranks. Damrosil accepted. Damrosil has the distinction of being the first of the indoctrinated warriors of the Shael Dal.

Tournament details: All-World’s Tournament of 1089, winner 14th circle, All-World’s Tournament of 1093, winner 15th circle, placed in top 10 of unlimited play in 5 entered tournaments. Damrosil is a veteran tournament warrior with over 312 victories at various ranks. She spent some years in the Arcturan Death Spectacles and has trained extensively with Beia Targallae. Beia and Damrosil often compete in tag-team unlimited class tournament play. When together they have never failed to place below the top 10.

See Also:  Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

Titaan — One of the core worlds of the Ring Realms, the planet from which the Band of the Crescent Moon hails (among others).

titles/honorifics — There are many uses of title and honorifics in the fiction of the Ring Realms. This chart lists most of them collectively.

Titles/Honorifics/Styles

Rank/Title:

Arminwen

Translation/Address:

High Daughter

Notes/Description:

Elvish style. Used to address a princess. The word ‘Arminwen’ is similar to arwen and comes from the same roots, ‘ari’ which is girl, wen which is a shortening of wenna’fal which is ‘child of’. Min in elvish means high. So, the literal translation is high girl child.

Rank/Title:

Arwen

Translation/Address:

Daughter

Notes/Description:

Elvish style. The word ‘arwen’ is really an elven variant of their word for daughter which is ‘ari-wenna’—ari is girl, wenna is a shortening of wenna’fal which is ‘child of’. Arwen is used contextually as a title of respect to woman who is of lesser rank. Kalindinai addresses Wren as Arwen because she is the daughter of a Duke.

Rank/Title:

Baron/Baroness

Translation/Address:

The Right Honourable

Notes/Description:

The style for Baron/Baroness is usually spoken “The Right Honorable Lord/Lady…” Mostly, this is to distiguish this rank from a the simple address “milord/milady”

Rank/Title:

Count/Countess

Translation/Address:

Milord/Milady

Notes/Description:

The address form “My Lord” or “My Lady” or simply “Lord” or “Lady” is a catch-all term of respect especially in situations where peerage becomes muddled. In the Ring Realms, mages, clerics of power along with immorts share an unspoken peerage even if they do not have an official given title.

Rank/Title:

Dom’Ista

Translation/Address:

Father of Power

Notes/Description:

This title is exclusive to the Elves.

Rank/Title:

Dukes/Duchesses

Translation/Address:

Grace (Highness)

Notes/Description:

Depending on region, a Duke/Duchess may be addressed as ‘your grace’ in rare instances as ‘your highness’. In most kingdoms in the Ring Realms act as regional governors that answer to the King. Note: that the City of Cosmodarus from which Wren hails, her father and mother carry the the title Duke and Duchess. The population of Cosmodarus alone is actually larger than the biggest Kingdom on Titaan. However, Cosmodarus is a free city, and has no rulership over other lands. Vanidaar and Euriel being the high-generals of the defending army were given the honorific of Duke and Duchess to accord them (and identify) the level of respect they deserved. Before they were given higher titles Vanidaar and Euriel held the titles Baron and Baroness. As neither of them is particularly pretentious they often go by their lesser titles and consider it no slight when addressed by them. They are quite often mistakenly identified and introduced by these lower titles.

Rank/Title:

Emperors/Empresses

Translation/Address:

Imperial Majesty

Notes/Description:

On Titaan the only dynasties to ever exist were in Silissia and Pedon. None currently exist. A dynasty is a conglomerate of multiple kingdoms and are sometimes known as empires or alliances.

Rank/Title:

Elven Peerage

Translation/Address:

N/A

Notes/Description:

Because of the age of the elven language and it’s decent from the common roots of the Numinorians and Silcanna, Elven honorifics are used by many races and cultures as a form of “common peerage”. The Elven dialect and its nuances are considered to be “noble” or “educated” tongue particularly appropriate to diplomacy and tact.

Rank/Title:

Governor/High Commissioner/Prime Minister/Secretary-general

Translation/Address:

Excellency

Notes/Description:

A number of high government positions use the style “excellency” and like milord/milady it is something of a catch-all when the correct style is not known by the addressor. ‘Your Excellency’ is actually the correct style when addressing Euriel and Vanidaar Kergatha, the Baron and Baroness who govern the city state of Cosmodarus.

Rank/Title:

Grand Dukes/Grand Duchesses

Translation/Address:

Royal Highness

Notes/Description:

On Titaan, only Corwin has this title (who ranks just below the king). It is a lesser used title because a kingdom must be large enough to have enough Dukes that a second organizational tier is necessary beneath the King. This level of title is typically only used in dynasties where regions within neighboring kingdoms have a sort of governing regional sub-king.

Rank/Title:

King/Queen (Elven)

Translation/Address:

Dom’Ista/Matradomma

Notes/Description:

Means “father of power”, somewhat close to all father. Matradomma is quite literally ‘mother of mothers’. Domma is the respectful form of address to older woman or a woman of higher station.

Rank/Title:

King/Queen (Human)

Translation/Address:

Majesty

Notes/Description:

There are variants of this style used in various kingdoms and on the different worlds of the realms but ‘your majesty’ is the most common form of address.

Rank/Title:

Matradomma

Translation/Address:

mother of mothers

Notes/Description:

This title is only used by the Elves.

See Also:  dom’ista, Myrgul, Duke, Matradomma, T’Evagduran, Kalindinai (Queen)

Tradeholme, Edmund (King) —  King of the realm of Ivaneth.

Tymoril — Dragon that traveled with Kegari. She accompanies Bannor extensively while he is in Gladshiem. See also Kegari.

See Also:  dragon

—  U  —

Ukko — Pantheon lord, god of the atmosphere and lord of the Vanir. Ukko is to the Vanir what Odin is to the Aesir. Laramis and Irodee serve Ukko as avatars.

See Also:  De’Falcone, Irodee, De’Falcone, Laramis

—  V  —

Vale, Corim Erik — Corim Vale is a well-known tournament competitor, scholar, and treasure hunter. He is also a devotee in the ways of Mataya, following the lore-knight’s code of ethics. In 1094 at the Blackstar Tournament he was overall winner in three events. He has an exceptional tournament record spanning 253 bouts, 211 victories, 31 draws, with only 12 losses.

For several cycles Corim toured the tournament circuit, using his winnings to further his studies and finance his treasure hunting. In the various tournament towns he would tell stories, pass along information, and teach on various subjects making him known as a kind of pseudo-bard.

As a solo adventurer he was moderately successful, not easily able to penetrate deeply into the wild lands without the support of an entire exploration group. All of the magic items in his personal arsenal are the result of those explorations. Corim’s solo treks in the wilderness were sharply curtailed when he ran afoul of a large and rather irritable green dragon. The creature did it’s best to eat him but soon found his sharp sword and tournament honed strength made him a rather unpalatable meal. The encounter left scars on the fighter that will not be soon forgotten.

One of Corim’s unusual abilities is his unusually strong metapathic talent. Metapaths, like empaths, can sense the emotions of others, however metapaths actually manipulate the emotions and mental states of others around them. Corim comes into this ability unusually late in life, and the first manifestations of the talent are raw and uncontrolled. When unfocused, this talent can evoke an instinctive hostile reaction in the creatures it touches. This caused Corim quite some trouble until Cassin Kel’Ishtauri Felspar and Annawen Kel’Ishtauri Felspar help him get the ability under control.

Not long after the dragon incident, Corim decided to take root and formalize his scholarly studies. He heard that the Falorian academy for warriors paid its instructors well and decided that it would make a good substitute for constantly wandering from kingdom to kingdom pursuing the various tournaments. With his tournament record in hand he set out to qualify for the coveted 7th circle teaching position.

It was in the school that he made the acquaintance of Ceraph, Talorian Falor’s Elf talent scout. Due to the effects of Corim’s metapathic ability, Ceraph becomes infatuated with him. It is also around this time that Corim has an encounter with Beia Targallae. It is shortly thereafter that Corim becomes involved with Meridian Arcturan and the Death Spectacles.

A combination of good looks, gentlemanly propriety, and metapathic talent makes Corim an unintentional lady’s man. He becomes involved with Ceraph, catches the eye of Annawen Felspar, and even gets the ancient Belkiran Dulcere to notice him. It is Dulcere who Corim falls in love with, other entanglements aside. The young man’s troubles do not end there. In the pursuit of Meridian, and his attempt to avenge the “death” of his friends that Corim chases down Rakaar Steelsheen. On the Baronian’s starship Corim encounters and frees the warmage’s battle-nurse Senalloy. After the combat which takes Rakaar’s life, but seriously injures Corim, Senalloy sets her eyes and Desires on him. Eventually, the Baronian’s forward and lascivious behavior becomes a wedge between Corim and Dulcere.

By the end of the events in Shaladen Chronicles: A Knot In Time Corim has been indoctrinated into the ranks of the Shael Dal, and has been temporarily given protectorate enforcer beta status in the wake of Aarlen Frielos’ breakdown. Aarlen’s mental patterns have taken residence in Corim’s body, and the Shaladen Stellaraac now answers his call…

See Also:  dragon, Felspar, Annawen Kel’Ishtauri, Felspar, Cassin Kel’Ishtauri, shaladen, Targalle, Beia {Regaura} (Queen)

valharesh —

valkyries — Plural of Valkyrie. See Valkyrie.

Vilesilencer, The — Loric Felspar’s sobriquet is “The Vilesilencer” a reference to his days trying to destroy the evil of the pantheon lords when their influence was stronger in the mortal worlds.

See Also:  Felspar, Loric

Vinax, Koass — The prime commander eternal of the Universal Protectorate. Koass has a a wife named Megan, and two step-daughters Ralani and Silvia.

See Also:  Felspar Clan, Felspar, Cassandra Kel’Ishtauri

void — Of or pertaining to space.

—  W  —

warmage — A mage specializing in warfare and battle magic. Often warmage’s are trained in the martial arts and in weapons mastery. They are typically trained tacticians and strategists as well. When employed by a Kingdom or territory, warmages often act as generals and lead the troops into battle, devastating the enemy ranks with their magic.

warmaster — Warmaster is a title accorded (or simply assumed) by veterans with extensive combat experience, usually mercenary experience.

Whitelock — Alias for Desiray Illkaren Felspar. See Felspar, Desiray Illkaren.

See Also:  Felspar, Desiray Illkaren

—  X  —

—  Y  —

—  Z  —

About The Author

« ^

First published in 1983, Will Greenway started his creative career wanting to draw and script comics. After a number of years, he found writing better suited to his skills. Aside from writing and art, Will is a self-taught programmer, PC technician, and network troubleshooter. He enjoys skiing, racquetball, Frisbee golf, and is steadfast supporter of role-playing games. To date he has completed eighteen novels more than twenty short stories, and numerous articles on writing. He resides in the Spring Valley suburb of south San Diego.

The Ring Realms, the shared universe his novels take place in, has an online presence at http://www.ringrealms.com(which has a LOT of detailed information about the universe and its inhabitants).

As Will’s “universe” is so complex the following is some information that may help with timelines:

Wren Kergatha (whose story line starts earliest of the three series) interacts with many of the characters depicted in the Chronicles. She also is the savior savant who befriends and helps Bannor in the Reality’s Plaything series.

So the chronological order to the events of the novels roughly follows the list below.

(Numbers specify the summer cycle N.I.S [New Ivaneth Standard]):

1100 Savant’s Blood: Shadow of the Avatar
1102 Savant’s Blood: Hecate’s Bounty
1103 Aesir’s Blood
1108 Shaladen Chronicles: A Knot In Time
1108 Shaladen Chronicles: Anvil of Sorrow
1109 Reality’s Plaything
1109 ‘Neath Odin’s Eye
1110 Gaea’s Legacy: Eternal’s Agenda
1110 Gaea’s Legacy: Savants Ascendant
1110 Gaea’s Legacy: The Infinity Annihilator
1111 Shaladen Chronicles: Who Mourns the Creator
1111 Gaea’s Blood
1112 War of the Genemar

N.I.S = New Ivaneth Standard.

Since the initial conception, the idea for the War of the Genemar has been broken into a multi-book series. What I have in mind for that story will not fit into a standard novel length. There are simply too many characters and too many side plots.

If you are more inclined to follow a particular character’s storyline and not care to read chronologically the series are:

Reality’s Plaything Series—Tales following the adventures of Bannor Starfist:

1. Reality’s Plaything (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=181)
2. ‘Neath Odin’s Eye (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=182)
3. Gaea’s Legacy: Eternal’s Agenda (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=630)
4. Gaea’s Legacy: Savants Ascendant
5. Gaea’s Legacy: The Infinity Annihilator

Savant’s Blood Series—Tales following the adventures of Wren Kergatha:
1. Savant’s Blood: Shadows of the Avatar (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=586)
2. Savant’s Blood: Hecate’s Bounty (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=598)
3. Aesir’s Blood
4. Gaea’s Blood

Shaladen Chronicles Series—Tales following the adventures of Corim Vale.
1. A Knot In Time (http://www.readerseden.com/product.php?productid=183)
2. Anvil of Sorrow
3. Who Mourns the Creator

—«»—«»—«»—

Table of Contents

Reality’s Plaything Book 3: Eternal’s Agenda

Dedication

A Word (or two) About Mythology

Other books in the chronicles of the Ring Realms

Chapter One A Distant Rumble

Chapter Two Subtle Confrontations

Chapter Three Called to Heel

Chapter Four Subject Matter Specialists

Chapter Five The Supreme Magestrix

Chapter Six Traces in the Void

Chapter Seven Precursor

Chapter Eight Ghosts

Chapter Nine Ring

Chapter Ten Mock Battle

Chapter Eleven Paranoia

Chapter Twelve Gathering of Heroes

Chapter Thirteen Hunting a Conspiracy

Chapter Fourteen Möbius Reality

Chapter Fifteen Ramifications

Chapter Sixteen Mirror Prodigal

Chapter Seventeen Unlikely Teachers

Chapter Eighteen Complications

Chapter Nineteen Knowledge and Intent

Chapter Twenty Royal Lunch

Chapter Twenty-One Meet the Healer

Chapter Twenty-Two Painful Education

Chapter Twenty-Three Party Crashers

Chapter Twenty-Four Clash

Glossary of Term

About The Author

^