Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘No,’ replied Zastra. ‘I want to try again.’

  That evening, Zastra was seated in her room trying to create a layer of fake thoughts outside her mental stone wall. This would allow a casual scan to be fooled into thinking her something other than she really was. It was an extremely difficult skill and she had not yet mastered it properly. As she was trying to pretend to be a common soldier, she was disturbed by a knock at the door. On opening the door she found Bedrun hopping impatiently from one foot to the other.

  ‘Hey there,’ said Bedrun, skipping into the room without waiting to be invited. ‘What are you up to? There’s a bit of a stir downstairs. Do you know what’s happening?’

  ‘What do you mean, a stir?’ asked Zastra, intrigued.

  ‘A messenger arrived a little while ago, her horse almost dead with exhaustion. Heldrid said that he heard her say to the gatekeeper that she had to talk to the grand marl at once, as she had important news from Waldaria. They are in your father’s offices right now. What could it mean?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Zastra thoughtfully, ‘but I’ve heard Waldaria mentioned before. Come on Bedrun, let’s find out what’s going on.’

  ‘How?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘There’s a balcony above Father’s outer office. Maybe we can sneak in and hear what’s happening,’ suggested Zastra.

  ‘But we could get in trouble. Remember last year, when you got caught listening into the teachers’ meeting?’

  ‘That was Heldrid’s fault. He dared me to find out who our new teacher was going to be. And I would’ve too – it was sheer bad luck that the vine broke just at the wrong time.’

  ‘You were lucky you didn’t break your neck,’ said Bedrun, suppressing a giggle. The teachers’ common room, like the schoolroom, was on the first floor of the wing that formed the base of the triangular section of the castle, with windows overlooking the courtyard. This was the only side of the courtyard without a balcony, and in response to Heldrid’s dare, Zastra had climbed down a large vine that hung from the upper ramparts in order to listen in at the window. The vine had snapped under her weight, causing her to crash down and ruin one of Anara’s favourite flower beds. Zastra returned Bedrun’s smile ruefully.

  ‘You sound like my mother,’ she protested. ‘Come on, do you want to find out what’s happening or not?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  The two girls tiptoed along the first-floor balcony that passed alongside the great hall and ended above her father’s offices. Their bare feet padded softly on the polished wooden floor. They tried the door that led to a small alcove overlooking the outer office, but it would not open.

  ‘I’ll try and pick the lock,’ whispered Zastra. ‘Give me your pin.’ She gestured towards the pin that held a pink ribbon on Bedrun’s shirt; a reward, rather ironically, for good behaviour.

  ‘Do you know how?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘Well, I saw once saw one of the grooms do it, to get into a locked stable,’ said Zastra confidently. ‘How hard can it be?’

  Unfortunately, the answer to that question appeared to be “very hard indeed” since in spite of lots of enthusiastic jiggling and thrusting with the pin, the door remained obstinately locked.

  ‘Someone’s coming!’ whispered Bedrun in panic, and indeed footsteps were approaching rapidly; closer and closer with relentless inevitability.

  Zastra grabbed Bedrun by the hand and dragged her through a nearby door that, by good fortune, opened to her desperate touch. They ended up in a dark closet, filled with brooms, buckets and other cleaning apparatus. As the footsteps paused alongside them, the girls stopped breathing and froze, gripping each other’s hands. The footsteps continued down the corridor, and the girls let out shaky sighs of relief. Their hearts were still thrumming when they became aware of a dim echo of voices. Creeping to the back of the cupboard, they found a crack in the floor through which they could see down into the office below. Bedrun gripped Zastra’s hand in excitement. The crack was narrow and only a small strip of the room below was visible. However, Zastra could see the back of a black coat, which she thought looked like her uncle’s. Voices, barely audible at first, became more distinct as she pressed her ear to the crevice.

  ‘Did anyone see what happened?’ The question was asked by her father.

  ‘No one would talk to me,’ a weary female voice responded. ‘Everyone was terrified. All I could ascertain was that the body had been deposited in the night, outside the blacksmith’s, and that this was found next to it.’

  There was a sound of metal ringing on wood. Zastra pressed her eye to the crack, but the table was out of view and she could see nothing.

  ‘A dagger bearing the crest of Sendor.’ Thorlberd’s booming tone was unmistakable.

  ‘Why was I not told about this?’ demanded a sharp, female voice. ‘If one of my masters was in danger, as clearly he was, why was I not informed?’

  Zastra could picture Teona’s blue eyes glaring at their target, and was glad she didn’t have to face them.

  ‘All we had were suspicions, highmaster,’ responded Thorlberd. ‘We didn’t wish to raise panic before we had evidence.’

  ‘Well, young Xendon has died for your evidence,’ exclaimed Teona, bitterly. ‘I demand to know what caused you to send him to Waldaria.’

  ‘Rumours,’ replied Leodra. ‘Unconfirmed tales of frightening visions and strange creatures in the Waldarian forest. We thought someone might be practicing unauthorised mindweaving and so sent Xendon to investigate.’

  ‘In matters of mindweaving, I should be your first counsel. My lord, I must protest in the strongest possible terms. I must know what concerns me and my masters.’

  ‘Do not over-reach yourself, Teona,’ said Leodra. ‘Perhaps we should have informed you, but these are difficult times, and we do not know who can be trusted.’

  ‘If my loyalty is being called into question—’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Thorlberd. ‘My dear highmaster, your service to this court is without question. But if a powerful mindweaver is involved, we cannot rule out the possibility that it is a member, or ex-member, of the council, however unpalatable such a view might be. We thought it best to involve as few people as possible.’

  A dangerous silence followed, broken by the voice of the messenger.

  ‘My lord, there is one more thing. I found this hidden in Xendon’s lodgings.’ Zastra strained her eyes to try and see, but her view was still obstructed by the body of her uncle and the sides of the crack.

  ‘What’s happening?’ whispered Bedrun, nudging her friend.

  ‘Shhhh,’ Zastra hissed, and reapplied her ear to the crack.

  ‘Cintara bark!’ Teona sounded horrified. ‘I thought we had eradicated this scourge.’

  ‘Someone has broken the law forbidding its use,’ said Leodra, grimly. ‘Our enemy is willing to risk all to achieve their ends.’

  ‘Let me look into this, brother,’ said Thorlberd. ‘Waldaria adjoins Bractaris after all. I feel the responsibility for getting to the bottom of this.’

  ‘Teona, what is your opinion?’ asked a soft voice. Zastra was jolted by the sound. She had not realised that her mother was in the room.

  ‘This is a matter of the utmost seriousness,’ responded the highmaster. ‘If cintara bark is being used in Golmeira, the dangers are deep indeed. I would suggest sending a strong contingent to Waldaria, including both mindweavers and soldiers. I shall lead the expedition myself.’

  ‘The expedition I agree to,’ said Leodra, ‘but as for you going, Teona, that is out of the question. You are needed here. Let us send Dobery; he is a man of great wisdom and resource. I will send Morel with him, along with a full company of soldiers. Our enemy has power enough to murder one of our most talented mindweavers. We will find out who is behind this outrage.’

  In the dark closet, Bedrun gripped Zastra’s arm tightly. Morel was one of Bedrun’s mothers and the proposed trip sounded very dangerous indeed.

  ‘Very
well, it is agreed,’ said Thorlberd.

  ‘And send another message to the Sendorans,’ ordered Leodra. ‘I have left that situation unresolved for too long. Many of our troops are in the border regions, stretching our resources when we can ill afford it. We must try and reach some agreement.’

  ‘I’m not sure that is wise, brother. The Sendorans are uneducated savages, and they have no love of Golmeira or its grand marl. For all we know, they could be behind this trouble in Waldaria. The dagger certainly points that way.’

  ‘Anyone can plant a dagger,’ said Anara, ‘and the Sendorans do not have mindweavers. We must not leap to conclusions.’

  ‘I don’t have to remind you that any submission to Sendoran demands would be seen as weakness,’ said Thorlberd. ‘The Sendoran War is remembered bitterly by many in this land.’

  ‘Nevertheless, Anara and I feel we must pursue a peaceful agreement if possible,’ replied Leodra. ‘Of course, should Morel and Dobery find further evidence of Sendoran involvement in Waldaria, we shall take appropriate action.’

  ‘Well, it is of course your decision to make. I suggest that the Waldaria situation be kept secret. It would be unwise to broadcast our weakness, especially with the Sendorans around. No one outside this room, excepting the leaders of the expedition, should know the reasons behind this.’ At that moment, Thorlberd looked sharply upwards at the crack. Zastra gasped, jerking her head backwards. As she did so, she thought she sensed a feather of a touch in her mind. Her heart pounding, she pulled Bedrun away. They ran back to Zastra’s room as fast as they could. Panting heavily, they closed the door behind them and sank to the floor.

  ‘Do you think he saw us?’ wailed Bedrun. ‘He must have done. Oh, we shall be in so much trouble.’

  ‘I don’t think he can have known it was us,’ said Zastra, although her heart was still fluttering from the shock of Thorlberd’s eyes staring up at her, as well as the hectic flight back to her room. ‘He may know someone was listening, but not that it was us. We mustn’t tell anyone what we’ve heard, otherwise they’ll punish us.’

  ‘What was happening anyway?’ asked Bedrun. ‘I couldn’t hear very well, because you were hogging the crevice. What did they say about Morel and Waldaria? I didn’t catch it all.’

  With a heavy heart, Zastra told her friend what she had heard.

  ‘What was that stuff they found? Tara, or sintara bark, something like that?’ asked Bedrun. Zastra shook her head

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  After talking late into the night, they finally extinguished the jula lamp. Bedrun was soon snoring gently, but Zastra could not get much rest. Too many dark thoughts swirled around inside her head.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day, the whole castle was alive with chattering and gossip. Word of the late-night messenger had spread and a good deal of wild speculation was in the air. Zastra listened with a keen ear, but no one mentioned Waldaria, the Sendorans or any kind of bark, so she could gain no further information. At her early morning lesson, Dobery tutored her as if nothing had happened. Zastra wondered if he even knew he was to be sent away. Frustrated, she knew she could not ask questions without giving herself away.

  At morning class, she sat with Bedrun, who looked particularly glum.

  ‘Any news?’ whispered Zastra.

  ‘Morel has to leave tomorrow. She didn’t tell me why, but I could tell she was not happy about it. Of course, I couldn’t tell her that I knew where she was going and why. Oh Zastra, I’m scared. If someone in Waldaria can dare to kill even a member of the council of mindweavers…’

  ‘I know,’ whispered Zastra, giving her friend’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘But if anyone can look after herself, it’s Morel. You know how amazing she is at fighting skills.’

  However, Bedrun was not to be comforted and, in truth, Zastra had not much spirits herself.

  ‘Have you found out anything about that wotsit bark?’ asked Bedrun.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll ask Sestra.’

  Zastra shook her head.

  ‘You can’t. They’ll wonder why we’re asking. If it gets back to our parents they’ll know we were listening last night. Perhaps we can find answers in the library. I’ll go at lunchtime and have a look.’

  ‘Look at you, volunteering to go to the library,’ Bedrun said with a giggle. ‘I’d better come with you, in case you get lost.’

  At this point Sestra, their teacher, entered the room. Everyone quieted, and the lessons began. The two girls sat through the lessons on geometry and mathematics with even more impatience than usual. The instant the lunch gong sounded, they raced away from the classroom. As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, where the library was situated, Zastra had a strange sense that they were being followed. Grabbing an uncomprehending Bedrun by the arm, she pulled her past the library and into the darkness of the outer liden. Seeing her friend’s startled face, Zastra put her finger to her lips. A few seconds later, they heard footsteps proceed lightly past the opening of their passageway. They were shocked to see Rastran’s narrow back, bony shoulder-blades protruding, as he disappeared along the balcony.

  ‘Come out, cousin,’ he called softly. ‘I know you are here. I saw you and your fat little friend sneaking off.’

  The two girls shrank back down one of the narrow staircases of the liden. The footsteps paused, turned back towards them, and a dark shadow blocked out the light from the balcony.

  ‘What are you up to?’ he whispered. ‘Don’t think I won’t find out.’

  The girls scurried down the staircase. Keeping to the narrow passages between the castle walls, they found their way back to the kitchens and hid within the comforting crowd of their classmates.

  ‘Why does he have to put his nose in our business?’ demanded Zastra, once she had recovered her breath.

  ‘I really thought he would find us!’ said Bedrun, her eyes wide with anxiety.

  ‘Well, so what if he did? We weren’t doing anything wrong after all.’

  ‘Then why did you make us hide?’

  ‘I just don’t want him knowing what we are doing,’ replied Zastra. ‘It would be just like him to tell tales on us. We’ll have to go the library tonight, when he’s eating dinner with his father.’

  Rastran appeared at the entrance to the kitchen and looked around until he saw them.

  ‘Hello, Rastran.’ Zastra at him, a bread roll in her hand. ‘You’re late. I think all the best stew may be gone. Did you get lost? I suppose our dear old castle is confusing if you’re not used to it.’

  He cast her an evil look, took some food and sat at the opposite side of the room and shot suspicious glances in their direction when he thought they weren’t looking.

  ‘He looks annoyed,’ said Bedrun.

  ‘He’d get angry if an insect didn’t bow as it flew by, so I don’t think we should let that bother us,’ exclaimed Zastra, grabbing another roll.

  After afternoon lessons, Zastra and Bedrun visited the nursery and played with Kastara and Findar for a while before taking an early supper. Then, alert to anyone following them – especially Rastran – they went up to the library. It was quiet at this time of day. A couple of grown-ups were in the restricted section, but the general information area was empty. Zastra and Bedrun took up two different dictionaries, but could find nothing under “tara” or “sintara” bark.

  ‘Maybe it’s spelt “zintara”,’ suggested Bedrun. ‘Or “sindara”? Could that have been what they said?’ Despite trying all these avenues, they could not find the information they were looking for. Even the Great Book of Knowledge, which ran to three hundred volumes, didn’t appear to have any information.

  An idea struck Zastra. ‘What if we look up herbs and plants?’ she suggested. ‘Sintara bark sounds like it might come from a tree or bush or something.’

  Eventually they found it.

  ‘Cintara – this must be it!’ exclaimed Bedrun. ‘It’s spelt with a “C”.’

 
‘I always was rubbish at spelling,’ said Zastra with a grin. Bedrun read the entry.

  ‘Cintara, a rare dwarf tree, which grows in shaded mountain shale, is renowned for certain properties of its bark. When refined by a complex process of smoking and soaking, a fine red/brown power is obtained. This substance has a bitter taste and distinctive odour. When ingested by one with mindweaving ability, it heightens powers. It has also been rumoured that it can grant abilities to those who lack the power of mindweaving. The use of cintara bark has been banned in Golmeira since the fifth year of Fostran II’s reign due to its addictive properties and dangerous side effects, which can include madness and death.’

  Zastra sat back in her chair. ‘Well!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s why they’re all so worried. If there are mindweavers who wish us harm, this cintara bark could allow them to become so powerful even our council may not be able to protect us.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Bedrun. Like most people, she was largely ignorant of the details of mindweaving. Several months younger than Zastra, she had not yet taken the test. Zastra told her what she had learnt from Dobery.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Bedrun, beginning to understand. ‘So, that day – the day you and Rastran fought in the combat grounds – I saw the most terrible things. I thought I’d just turned loony. That was Rastran doing his mindweaving?’

  Zastra nodded. ‘Yes, that’s why I went for him. It’s not fair to use that power like that. Dobery says—’

  ‘Shhhh!’ A short, grey-bearded man glared at them from across the room. ‘Quiet in the library.’

  ‘I didn’t think we were being that loud,’ whispered Bedrun.

  ‘No, indeed,’ said Zastra, glaring at the man with what she hoped was a regal glare worthy of a grand marl in waiting.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Bedrun. ‘You look as if you are about to pee.’