Chapter 8
A little more than a week of hard riding brought them home. Thankfully, nothing more exciting than a rainstorm had occurred on the journey to Astoria; Tristan needed the time to regain his composure. So much had happened in the months of his absence that he felt he had been away years instead. As he rode, he wondered what had become of Pallin. The boy must be nearly ready to take his Oath by now, if he wished to do so. He hoped he would be there in time to see it. He also wondered what had become of the eight bandits he had sent to Astoria. The Lady would have much to say upon his arrival, he thought ruefully. He rode into the city in full uniform, save for the fake horn on his mount. He thought the things gaudy, and it would have been a desecration and a mockery to put one on a real unicorn. He would have preferred to slip in anonymously, but he was sure there were spies amongst the servants and townsfolk and he could not risk ruining his cover quite yet. As he rode through the vast collection of shops and houses surrounding the walls of the actual city, he received many curious looks from the townsfolk but no one dared speak to him. The mare snorted in mirth at their apparent dread. Tristan wondered what awaited him within.
At the gate leading into the city, he was stopped for questioning; the guards were taking no chances after their last encounter with one of the Order’s emissaries. The guards were both members of the Warrior sect and looked like they could handle Tristan alone and unarmed. He dismounted and bowed to both of them. They did a double take when they got a closer look at him. The man on the left gasped, “what is the world coming to!”
“Are you a wolf in sheep’s clothing or sheep in wolf’s clothing?” asked the one on the right.
“That you will have to ask the Lady,” laughed Tristan, “this is her doing and she is expecting me, though as far as you are concerned I am simply the Order’s Emissary to the Lady and nothing more.”
They nodded and allowed him to pass, though one barked after him in mock severity, “I hope you are better behaved than the last wretch of your lot who passed this way.” The mare’s ears twitched in irritation; she was growing tired of the subterfuge though she did enjoy the irony.
The street climbed steadily towards the castle and many of the people in the street stopped to stare at him in disbelief and even open anger. He stared straight ahead and tried not to feel the heat in those glares. At the castle gates, he had a similar encounter with four more Warriors but was allowed to pass with only a little hassling. A stable boy ran out to take his mare and Tristan whispered to him, “treat her like she is one of the Brethren’s own lad.” The mare looked gratefully at him and walked away following the boy. A servant met him, bowed, and asked that Tristan follow. Tristan followed as placidly as the mare. They snaked through the corridors and finally came to one of the smaller audience chambers. Inside, the Lady sat by a window watching the comings and goings in the courtyard below.
“Thank you Angbar,” she said, “you may go.” The servant bowed and shut the door behind him. The Lady stood and faced her guest. Tristan bowed low.
They looked at each other for half a minute and then she laughed, “what have I entangled you in my dear boy!” Tristan only shook his head in shared mirth. “Of course you probably sent me those eight bandits just to get even with me,” she said. Tristan looked at her aghast and then she burst out laughing, “no I know you would not do a thing like that. It was all you could have done in the situation and was quite ingenious actually. It has been long since I have had a chance to talk with a dragon and now I have spoken with several and on more than one occasion.” She smiled delightedly to herself. “Sit, sit please,” she said as she took a seat across from him. There was a pot of tea and several dainty cakes on the table between them and she helped herself and motioned for him to do the same.
“Now tell me about your adventures these past few months and what this Order of yours expects of you and Astoria,” she said. He looked at her in disbelief at the mention of ‘his Order’ but said nothing on that topic. He showed her both his orders and the letter addressed to herself and regaled her with his adventures since last they met. “They think a great deal of themselves I see,” she said tossing the letter aside, “it is good to have verification that they have spies amongst the servants and townspeople. I have suspected it and acted accordingly. Perhaps we can find them a few more ‘reliable’ individuals. Of course you will have to double check all of your correspondence to the Order with me.” He nodded. She continued, “perhaps I will even let you start your garrison if we can find the right group of young men to people it.” He stared at her in disbelief for a moment as the meaning sunk in. “I do not see why we cannot have a few representatives within the Order; perhaps over time we can redeem it and make it into a worthwhile organization. However, we will discuss that later. I find it fascinating that Queen Britna nearly made you King, but you acted as you should have and we will speak no more on this matter except that I must know if you have feelings for her.”
Tristan replied, “I was flattered by her proposals, but I do not love her as a man ought to love a woman. I respect her a great deal, and she is an impressive woman, but I have no feelings of affection for her.”
The Lady nodded in approval and moved on to the next topic of interest, “that stable boy of yours is about ready to take his Oath. He is a very impressive young man once he is well-fed, cleaned up, and taught to speak properly. He still has issues with the Order that he will have to work out, which may make your relationship a little awkward, but I think you will be very proud of him. As for those eight bandits, five have decided to take their Oaths (they will do it at the same time as Pallin). One is studying blacksmithing, another found a local girl and has settled down to raise children and potatoes, and the eighth got himself employed at the nearest Penal Stone Quarry for trying to runaway before we said he could. Seven out of eight is not bad, but next time you find some persons who need something to do, maybe this Order of yours would like them,” she said laughing then added, “actually, I think I will give them all back to you.”
Tristan looked at her in confusion.
“When I sent the Brethren to the four corners of the world with a mandate to spread the Truth openly and wherever they could, I had no idea of the results I would get,” she said, “we have had more new recruits showing up in the last several months than we have had over the last few years! Our teachers are becoming overwhelmed. It is a nice problem to have, but we will need to find places to apprentice these youngsters once they have taken their Oaths. I think you would do well apprenticing six or so, say five bandits and a stable boy.”
Tristan finally understood though he was not sure how he was going to handle six at once. Usually one newly sworn apprentice was placed with a seasoned Brother for a year or two to hone skills and get field experience, but six at one time! He also wondered how this would work with his cover as a member of the Order.
The Lady continued, “do not worry about your little charade. Just write to those lovely masters of yours that I have assigned you a small group of boys to mentor since I do not think you will have much else to do while you are here. You can also inform them that you are taking the assignment to appease my insanity, and because you think you may be able to win them over to the Order. That should make everyone happy. The Order already thinks I am crazy after the report they undoubtedly received from their last representative; this will only confirm it. Besides, the spies will notice I have applicants coming out my ears and am desperate to place them with skilled mentors, even if I must find them outside the Brethren. They will hopefully be contented to know that you are at least making some headway where that other fellow, Brisby?... did not.”
Tristan thought her plan insane, but also ingenious. He had not had an apprentice in a very long time. He was a member of the smallest sect: the Messengers. The Messengers had the most dangerous and varied missions so they had to excel in the areas
of knowledge, martial skills, and communication, instead of specializing in one area as the other Sects did. One could apply for any sect, but the Messengers only took in the very best applicants. They were used by the Lady and Council of Six in the more sensitive and dangerous missions. Tristan wondered if his six future apprentices were all talented enough to be potential Messengers or if the Lady just figured he could keep them out of trouble until they could be placed with a more permanent mentor.
“Now,” said the Lady, “I will inform the rest of the Brethren in Astoria about your ‘delicate’ situation and have them treat you accordingly. The only exception will be that you may attend the Oath-taking, but it must be done secretly so as not to expose your true identity.” Tristan nodded in acknowledgement, and bid the Lady goodnight and followed the waiting servant to his quarters.
The next morning, Tristan had just finished dressing when he heard a servant at his door. “Sir,” he said, “there is a young man who wishes to see you.” He gave a sideways glance at a tall, muscular young man in the uniform of a student. It took Tristan a moment to recognize Pallin; he had grown and filled so much that Tristan hardly recognized him. Tristan smiled and asked him to come in. A smile of pure joy played across the boy’s face at the sight of his long absent friend, but it dissolved into confusion and anger as he took in what Tristan was wearing.
“What!? How!” he almost sobbed. Tristan tried to put an arm around the distressed boy but it was pushed violently aside. “You know what they are to me,” he half yelled, half wept.
“Relax,” said Tristan, “you know me better than that. Would I ever do anything to violate the Lady’s commands, the laws of the Master, my Oath, or the Common Law?” The boy wept openly but a glimmer of hope crept into his face. “Think about it,” Tristan continued, “had I violated my Oath I would stand before you a shriveled and broken man, if I could stand before you at all. You know what happens to those who deny the Master after swearing their lives to his service.” The boy nodded. With the taking of the Oath, the Brethren received among other special abilities and gifts, a very long life. In revoking or breaking the Oath, the abilities and gifts were also lost. This meant that if the former Brother had lived a very long time already, his years would swiftly catch up with him. The boy visibly relaxed at this and looked hopefully at Tristan, yearning for more of an explanation. “This uniform is simply a disguise,” he continued, “I find no pleasure in wearing the thing. The Lady wishes to know more about what these so-called Knights are up to. I am the unhappy man she chose for this mission and as part of that I somehow find myself here as their emissary to her. I must pretend to have allegiance to them while still being loyal to her. What a perfect disaster!”
The boy laughed and embraced the man he looked up as a father. “She speaks well of you,” he said, “and by the look of it, you are doing very well indeed. I shall be attending your Oath-taking this afternoon, but it must be kept a secret. To you and everyone else I am no member of the Brethren but a despised Knight of the Order.”
No one outside the Brethren was allowed to attend an Oath-taking, but Tristan would find a way to smuggle himself in. They spent much of the morning catching up until Pallin had to leave to prepare for the afternoon’s events. Tristan smiled as he watched the young man run off in excitement and fear. He had felt the same way many long years ago. He went in search of the Lady. Upon finding her, he made some eloquent remarks about his hope for their future illustrious relationship; she made some non-committal statements and informed him she had business to attend to. He bowed and let her pass. This was all staged so any eavesdroppers could report it to their masters. He hoped it looked authentic; Lyre had taught him much about obsequiousness.
He returned to his room, grabbed an armload of presorted articles, and headed for the stables; there he met one of the Brethren who did not plan on attending today’s events. Tristan quickly dressed the obliging man in an Order uniform and had him mount the irritated mare; she only reluctantly carried anyone but Tristan, but she cooperated. His double then rode off very obviously for an afternoon’s ride. Tristan slipped on his own Brethren uniform and threw a hooded cloak over his head. He hid in the hayloft for several hours, hoping no one was crazy enough to wait that long to watch him emerge. He slipped out a back door and headed for the ceremonial grounds.
The castle was built atop a hill whose very crown was enclosed in a high stone wall and left open. Down the center of the hill ran a deep crevice which so many millennia ago had been rent open by the slaying of the Master in place of the innocent girl. It was on this hilltop that the Oath-taking took place, though on quieter days it was simply a green space where off-duty unicorns grazed. Tristan slipped quietly into the small knot of gathered Brethren who had assembled as witnesses to today’s events. No one remarked him as anything out of the ordinary. Although it was impossible for one of the Brethren to act as a spy, there were still servants and townsfolk about in the castle proper so he must be careful.
The candidates formed a single file line on the far side of the crevice. The Lady and her unicorn stood on the other side near the assembled Brethren. Without ceremony or preamble, she took a wicked looking steel instrument and drew forth a shower of silver blood from the great neck vein of the patient unicorn. An assistant caught the precious fluid in a silver cup as the Lady quickly repaired the hole in the creature’s vein and skin with a few practiced stitches. She then turned to the assembled applicants who were nearly trembling, and said, “you have come today to swear an Oath before all here assembled. To serve none but the Master, his laws and truth, and those appointed by him to oversee said Truth. You swear to forsake all personal possessions, dreams, and aspirations. You swear to dedicate your lives to his service alone; to uphold justice, peace, and love for others. You swear to lay down your life, if need be, in defense of the helpless and the Truth. You swear to abide by the Common Law, the Truth, and the laws of the Brethren. You swear not to enter into marriage with any save one who has also sworn this Oath. You do not swear to be perfect, but to try your best and overcome your weaknesses. You may forsake this Oath at any time of your own choosing or you will be forsaken by the Brethren and the Master if you grievously and intentionally violate the tenets you have sworn herein and upon such occasion you shall lose all rights, responsibilities, and privileges acquired by the taking of this Oath.”
She looked gravely at each of the assembled and said, “does any here have any doubts or questions about what the Oath entails?” No one spoke. “Then come forward and if you swear the Oath step across the crevice and say so before the assembled witnesses and the Master himself. If any wish to forego the Oath, let him leave now.” No one moved. “Then you may take your Oath,” she said.
One by one, the assembled candidates stepped across the gaping fissure and said ‘I so swear’ and upon stepping to the other side was handed the cup of silver blood. They then took a finger, dipped it in the cup, and placed a drop of the silver fluid on their tongues. There was no overt physical change, but to the assembled Brethren the newcomers now seemed to have a faint glow about them, only noticeable to one who had also taken the Oath. After the last applicant had stepped across, the assembled Brethren cheered and embraced their new Brothers.
Tristan slipped quietly out of the assembly and returned to the stable to await his double. The double arrived some time later and hid himself in the straw. Tristan thanked him and the mare, donned his Order uniform (now dirty and smelling of horse), and left the stable and returned to his quarters. Later he came downstairs to supper and sat at one of the tables reserved for guests. The new apprentices sat at the Lady’s table in a place of honor for the night. Tristan caught Pallin’s eye and smiled his approval. The boy glowed with excitement.
The next morning, Tristan was woken before the sun by a loud knocking at his door. “Yes,” he said groggily and then started awake. Six large boys or m
ore appropriately young men, in the everyday uniform of an apprentice stood smiling outside his door. The Lady was most definitely having too much fun with this. He shut the door and quickly donned his own uniform, washed his face, and tried to tame his hair. He opened the door again and the boys still stood there grinning like fools. “You probably think this is funny,” he said to no one in particular, “but you will soon learn this is no place or time for silliness.” They grinned all the more. This was going to be a long day.
He led them quietly to the stable where they found his mare already waiting. They each saddled a normal horse and headed out into the fields surrounding the city. Each would eventually find a unicorn, but sometimes it took a month or so. Tristan was not sure how the whole process worked. He did not know how the unattached unicorns knew when their services were needed, how they decided who volunteered for such service, or why a particular unicorn went with a particular apprentice. All he knew was that some time during the first few weeks or even months of the apprenticeship, a unicorn inadvertently showed up and would not go away. There was no formal oath or ceremony. They were just there and you were literally stuck with them. They were very intelligent, perhaps wiser than any creature save the dragons. They could not talk, but they did not need to; you felt what they wanted you to know and they could sense what you were thinking and feeling. They were very faithful and nothing short of death could separate you from them. They could travel great distances very swiftly, quietly, and without exhaustion. They could also cloak themselves in various guises including looking and smelling like a normal horse. They were fearsome fighters and nothing save a dragon could take on a full-grown stallion. In other words, they were the ideal companion for the many dangers and lonely roads faced in service to the Master and the Lady.
Tristan’s only goal for the day was to see how well these lads knew their stuff and to get to know them a little better as individuals. The last he had seen of them they had been an ill-spoken stable boy and five bandit-wannabes. They apparently knew how to handle a horse because they rode the rather grueling course he led them on with ease. He quizzed them on a variety of subjects and they were comfortable with history, literature, music, art, politics, geography, and a variety of other topics. Next, he watched as they paired off and had practice duels with a variety of weapons and then with nothing but their hands and feet. Then he turned them loose on the archery range. They had learned much in a few months! He had never seen such a talented and eager bunch of young men. The last part of the day, they spent going over the finer points of the Common Law, the Truth, and strictures of the Brethren. These they knew almost by rote and could interpret and use them in a variety of hypothetical situations. They were definitely going to keep him on his toes. At suppertime, they sat at a small table with their newfound leader. The Lady smiled approvingly at her apparently unhappy headmaster and he gave her a mock-glower. The spies should have much to report. His quarters had been moved in his absence to the large room his six apprentices shared in the wing that housed the students, servants, and unattached apprentices. The move was meant to further convince anyone who cared to pay attention that he was being carefully watched at all times by the Lady and her minions. He had had much worse bunkmates in the past so he did not complain. After supper, they spent their time talking about the past and the future. They were all aware of his true status as a member of the Brethren, but to everyone else they pretended he was an imposed upon Knight of the Order. They delighted in the subterfuge. Tristan found himself looking forward to their time together.
His first letter to the Order found a quick reply. They were surprised at the strange course things had taken, but were delighted that he had at least been allowed to stay in the city and to occasionally see the Lady. They also liked the idea of converting a few of these Brethren to the Order’s cause (they had no idea that it was impossible for them to throw themselves over heart and soul without violating their Oath). The members of his former unit were doing well and were having a very positive influence on the behavior of other members of the Order. They also noted that they would watch his progress with much anticipation. The Lady was pleased by this response, and any correspondence the spies sent to their contacts within the Order only corroborated what they knew from Tristan’s reports.
Tristan and his apprentices fell into a routine of practicing, expanding, and honing their skills and knowledge during the several months they were under his tutelage. Each had decided he would like to join the Messenger sect and each was given permission based on their outstanding progress. Tristan was having the time of his life instructing such a skilled and committed group of young men. Each of them had found (or been found by) their respective unicorns within the first week of their advanced training (which was unheard of). They began to comment occasionally in public about their respect for their teacher and their thoughts that perhaps the Order would be an interesting place to advance their careers. The spies were happy to pass on these little tidbits and the Order was ecstatic, urging Tristan to get a commitment from such promising young men. In due time, it was decided that all save Pallin would ‘join’ the Order and they began to call their room ‘the garrison.’ Pallin could not even pretend such a thing, but he was faring better with his enmity towards the Order and was gradually overcoming his hatred of them. He slowly began to see the Order as a group of individuals who were misguided and desperately needed the knowledge he had to give. He once viewed the Order as a giant machine composed of soulless ghouls whose only intent was rape and murder. Tristan was proud of his men, but hated having to involve them in the Order. Perhaps the Lady’s idea of reforming the Order from within would one day come to fruition through efforts such as these, however much he disliked involving himself with the Order.
One evening, as they were walking back to the city for supper (they had left the unicorns to their own devices back in the city, as Tristan had wanted to drill them on their tracking skills) they came upon a lone horseman walking his mount wearily towards the city, as if he had spent many long days in the saddle yet was reluctant to reach his final destination. It was a curious sight. He stopped his mount a quarter mile from the gate and glared at the city or perhaps something within. Whatever it was he hated, he hated it with all his being. Hate seemed to roll off him in waves; hatred enough to drive one nearly mad. As Tristan and his apprentices skirted the man and continued on towards the main gate, the man switched his glare from the city to the interlopers alongside his horse. The uniform of the Order worn by the leader of the small group caught his single eye.
He then recognized the face he hated almost as much as he hated the Lady and her vile city. But another memory stirred. With the city so close memories came back to him of his previous visit and with them he remembered seeing that face before. He had rightfully tried to smite an offensive whelp of a boy, but the very traitor he saw before him had robbed him of his vengeance. The very man he had been sent to check-up on was right there before him and completely unaware of the evil thoughts running through Brisbane’s mind. The man had been an inmate of this foul city long before he had ever joined the Order; he must be one of them. He was a traitor to the Order, not to mention the man Brisbane most reviled. An evil leer lit his face as he drew his sword and leapt from his horse, uttering an insane howl of vengeance. Tristan had been deep in thought and had unwisely ignored the tired horseman. He was drawn from his contemplations by an eerie howl only to find Brisbane nearly on top of him.
Tristan managed to draw his sword in time to block the initial attack but could not bring it around before the dagger Brisbane held in his other hand plunged deep into his chest. He spasmed with pain, fell to the ground, clutching the hilt of the offending weapon. Brisbane, wild with exhilaration at striking a fatal blow, stood laughing in triumph only to be tackled to the ground by four of the apprentices. The guards at the gate sounded the alarm, drew their swords, and came running.
Dresden, the unofficial leader amongst the apprentices bellowed at Pallin to see to Tristan. Pallin had drawn his sword and was making a mad dash towards the prone Brisbane. Pallin threw his sword to the ground and reluctantly obeyed; he knelt by Tristan’s side as he gasped for breath. Tears of anguish ran down the boy’s face. Somewhere within the city, a scream of utter rage and terror ripped through the night. People screamed and jumped aside as a unicorn in all its terrible glory thundered towards the awful scene. Tristan was struggling for each breath, but managed to murmur to the grief-stricken Pallin, “remember your Oathhhh…” He trailed off into a pained gasp and lapsed into silence. The mare reached her dying master and gently nuzzled his pallid face. Everyone was struck dumb by the sheer beauty and terror of the scene. They watched helplessly as the stricken man made one last painful gasp for air and then lay still. She nuzzled him helplessly and then her eyes rolled back into her head, she groaned, and then fell over as if struck dead. She convulsed a few times and then lay still. A horrible, gaping wound could be seen near her breast. The light that had once suffused her entire body dimmed and went out.
Tristan jumped as if someone had doused him with cold water. “No!” he groaned feebly and crawled weakly to the side of the dead mare. “No…” he wept into her dingy mane. He held the noble head in his lap as her color faded from white to misty grey to mist itself. She seemed to dissolve into thin air; nothing remained but the trampled vegetation and a few specks of silver blood. “Noooo,” he continued to weep in a half strangled voice. He weakly drew himself to his feet and picked up Pallin’s abandoned sword; everyone stared at him in fear and confusion. Slowly he walked towards the pinned Brisbane and held the sword a few inches from his nose. “You have slain that which is dearest to the Master and myself; the wisest and most faithful of creatures that live upon the earth. If I could, I would slay you myself, but that is for others to decide. May the Master have mercy on your soul.” With that, he flung the sword aside and walked heavily off into the gathering night.
Pallin made as if to follow him, but Dresden held him back. “Leave him be,” he said quietly. The guards and dazed apprentices hauled Brisbane to his feet and drug him into the city.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 9
