“We haven’t even decided when, or if, the trip is going to happen!” a flustered Deacon replied.
“What is the trip about, anyway?”
“My hand is becoming a bit more difficult to keep stable,” Deacon said. “It may be helpful to seek aid in a proper cure.”
Ivy furrowed her brow. “More difficult… You mean even more difficult than before? You just said you had an ‘episode’ a little while ago.”
“It has continued to dominate my thoughts, and those of the queen.”
“This isn’t some minor thing, like you’ve been saying, is it? This is more than you can handle, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes. It really isn’t—”
“And you can fix it but you haven’t yet?”
“I can likely fix it more quickly, but it will take months, and—”
“Just go and fix it! Nothing is more important than your health. You have a son who depends on you,” Ivy scolded.
Myranda smiled. “That makes two of the divine protectors of our world who agree. Shall I have a word with Myn and see what she thinks?”
“We can ask Ether, too. She’ll tell you to go get help right away just to disagree with you,” Ivy added.
Deacon shut his eyes and twisted his ring for a moment. “Very well. I yield. May I at least have a few hours to prepare some notes and gather some things for the journey?”
“Absolutely. We’ll leave after supper.”
Ivy squealed in glee. “I’m going to go make a list of the songs we’re going to learn.”
She bounded off. Deacon sat on the bed and gave Leo his finger for the boy to climb to his feet. Though Deacon was looking Leo in the face, his gaze was distant, lost in thought.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Myranda said.
“That certainly seems to be the consensus. But it is difficult to embrace that fact when it means hiding away for months. At least, if we are swift, I may reach Entwell before the blue moon. It would truly be an honor to be a part of another one. I wonder what the focus will be, now that Ether has been summoned? We shall see, I suppose.” He shook his head and swept Leo off the bed. “Your father has something to take care of, Leo. I’ll be gone for a while. Let’s make the most of today.”
He sat and perched his boy on his knee. “We’ve got stories to read, games to play.” He sighed. “But maybe a lesson first.”
“Guh,” Leo opined.
“I know, I know. But lessons are important, even when they’re not wrapped in stories. And lessons aren’t only for little boys growing up. We’re all learning lessons, all the time.”
Leo industriously attempted to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.
“I want a lot of things for you, Leo. I have so many hopes and dreams for your future that for the first year of your life I didn’t know what to hope for most. But I think I know now. So listen close. If nothing else, this is what I wish for you and what I believe you should wish for your own children should you have them. May you grow into the sort of person wise enough to recognize the flaws in those who came before you. May you accept them for what they are, and may you choose not to pass them on. If enough of us do that, the world can only get better.”
Leo blinked at Deacon. After consideration, he made his addition to the conversation. “Book now,” he said.
Deacon smiled and tousled his hair. “That’s my boy.”
#
Ether whisked across the countryside, the wind of her elemental form curling and mingling with the chilly breeze of spring. The sensation of her mind and body spreading through the rivulets and eddies of nature was an odd reminder of just how much the last few years had changed her. There was a time—most of the world’s existence, in fact—when this communing and combining with the primal forces was her default state of being. Now she spent most of her days focused into the form of a mortal.
By any true measure, she was more in touch with the world when commingled with the elements. But in a way she was only beginning to grasp, being among the mortals, among the creatures, made her feel far more like a part of the world than she ever had before.
She coalesced into her human form once more, boots sinking into the wet snow that lingered in this more northerly part of the land, then knocked on the door of a simple home.
“Celia, I have returned.”
“Come in. Please, come in,” called a voice rough with illness.
Ether pushed the door open and stepped into the cozy little home. A small fire burned in the hearth. Celia sat in a chair beside it. Her face was a bit pale, eyes and nose rimmed with red. Though ill, she was in no visible discomfort or distress. Her face brightened as Ether stepped inside.
“Ah! I hadn’t expected you back so soon! I trust the ceremony went well?”
“As you suggested, I entered discreetly rather than interrupting.”
“Good, good. Tell me all about it. How did things go?” She took a hand from her tea. “Nothing not meant for my ears, mind you. I know things far above my station are discussed in places such as these.”
“Nothing of interest. The king and queen of Ulvard postured, fearful that their place in history is as meaningless and unremarkable as it appears.”
“Ether, that isn’t very nice.”
“There may have been a disturbance to the north. It is unlikely, but I have been asked to keep watch for indications of danger.”
“And have you been?”
“I am ever watchful.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on Celia’s head. “You are still suffering from your illness. Have you been resting?”
“Nothing but. It has been ages since I’ve gone so long without doing a proper load of laundry. I fear I am beginning to go a bit mad. That’s why I was hoping you would have some interesting stories to tell me about the ceremony.”
“Nothing interesting happens at ceremonies. Humans who believe themselves to be towering figures in their worlds dress themselves in bright colors and shiny stones. They draw lines on a bit of parchment and call them borders, as if through the stroke of a brush they can shape the land. They declare these things to be against the rules, as though their opinions could alter the course of morality and righteousness. It is foolishness and spectacle.”
“But the food and wine are lovely.”
“So I am told,” Ether said. “I was too late to partake.”
Ether stood and raised the nearby tea kettle to test its weight. Finding it empty, she lifted the lid and drew her mind to the task of shifting air to water to fill it.
“You wouldn’t have been if you’d listened to me when I told you I was perfectly able to care for myself.”
The shapeshifter stepped onto the hearth and shifted to flame, kettle still in hand. Crackling flames licked about the black metal, gently heating the water and chasing away a bit more of the cold lingering in the room.
“And what of the prince?” Celia said.
“They continue to take great pride in his every motion and utterance,” Ether said.
“New parents,” Celia said. “I remember when Emilia took her first steps. From the way I crowed, you’d have thought she was the first baby ever to walk.”
Steam hissed from the kettle. Ether set it on the table and returned to her human form to gather the ingredients for tea.
“I didn’t think it possible, but Myranda and Deacon are even more protective of the child than they are of the rest of their kingdom. A full palace of servants to keep it safe while they travel.”
“Perhaps you’ll have a child one day. You shan’t understand until then.”
Ether prepared tea with the wooden and mechanical motions of someone who had never had to do so for herself. “Others grasp the lunacy more easily. Ivy insisted on joining the army of caretakers.”
“Oh, Ivy is back from her trip? She seemed so lovely when I met her.”
“She dotes on the child as though it were her own. She even suggested I should
join her in caring for it.”
Celia took the tea and warmed her hands on the cup. “And when do you begin?”
“I have you to care for. You are unwell.”
Celia’s expression became more firm. “Ether, do you mean to tell me that you have been asked by the queen of Kenvard to help care for the prince, and you shirked that duty to prepare tea for an old washerwoman?”
“They don’t need my aid.”
“I don’t need it either,” she said. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been sick and it won’t be the last. Now Myranda is the queen, and more than that, she’s your friend. She’s asked you to help her, so you help her.”
“Myranda did not ask me to watch her child. Ivy volunteered to watch her child and encouraged me to do the same.”
“Ivy volunteered you?” Celia tipped her head. “You two didn’t get along for the longest time, as I recall.”
“She is a trying individual, and if not for her value to the world, I doubt I would have tolerated her presence.”
“And she feels the same about you?”
“Quite vocally.”
“Then it is even more important that you go and lend a hand.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then go to her and listen to what she has to say and you will.”
“She made no indication that she had anything to say, Celia. It was simply another of her endless, infuriating quirks.”
Celia didn’t reply. She simply sipped her tea and gave Ether a look that the elemental had come to understand took the place of the sort of things other people she’d dealt with might shout in anger. Perhaps it came from her years without hearing, but Ether had never met someone who made such effective use of silence as Celia.
“You are certain it will have some value for me to see to the child.”
“There is always value in spending time with a child.”
“And you are certain you will not succumb to your illness in the absence of my care.”
“Quite.”
Ether released a harsh breath.
“Something wrong?”
“Ivy suggested I ask you what I should do. I suspect she anticipated this response.”
Celia grinned and took another sip. “Clever girl. You can learn a lot from her.”
#
True to his word, within hours Deacon had made his necessary preparations. It was a tribute to both the capabilities of their staff and Myranda’s capability to command them that by sunset the whole of Kenvard was prepared for an unplanned absence of the crowned heads. Myn crouched in the courtyard for Myranda and Deacon to load a few bags on her back.
“Myn, Myn, Myn,” Leo said. “Fye! Fye!”
“Yes,” Myn said simply. “I will fly.”
“I will see you soon, Leo!” Myranda said, hoisting Leo up to give him a hug and a kiss.
Deacon held his head to his boy’s, jostling his crown slightly. “Don’t forget your father now.” He looked to Ivy. “I made a special pad, extra-large. Make sure to leave it clear. I’ll send messages for Leo every night. If the book enchantment works through the mountains, the pad should too, if a bit slower.”
“We’ll draw you pictures!” Ivy said, taking Leo.
The king and queen climbed to Myn’s back. The great red dragon lowered her head to address the boy. “Be good.”
“Duck!” Leo said, raising his hands.
“Dragon,” Deacon corrected.
Leo poked the end of Myn’s snout.
“Duck.”
Myn gave Ivy a bemused look.
“We’ll draw pictures of ducks and dragons,” Ivy said.
Myn nodded and spread her wings. Ivy hurried to the edge of the courtyard and held Leo tightly, ready for the dragon to leap to the skies. Myranda and Deacon each tipped their head, then glanced in the same direction.
“One moment, Myn,” Myranda said, patting the beast’s back.
A stiff and persistent wind stirred the courtyard. It selected a dusty patch of stone and resolved itself into Ether’s form. Ivy opened her mouth to speak.
“You needn’t say anything. I do not need to hear you gloat,” Ether said.
Ivy laughed. “It is going to be fun, Ether. You’ll see.”
The shapeshifter turned to Myranda. “Do not dawdle. I suspect your absence will be interminable.”
Myranda and Ivy both laughed. She and Deacon waved and Myn took two long strides before leaping into the northern sky. Ether turned back to Ivy.
“This is a terrible idea, and you are entirely to blame.”
Ivy paced toward the door. “It is going to be great. You and I together, working toward a common goal. Just like old times!”
“In the old times we were constantly at one another’s throats because you were insufferable and I had yet to develop a tolerance for such foolishness.”
“That may be true, but I certainly enjoyed it.” She hefted Leo. “They left us with a list of things that they want to make sure to do every day. We’ll have to feed him, obviously. Tomorrow he’ll have a bath. Every afternoon and every night there is a story, or at least part of one. He likes walks outside when the weather is nice, and the rest of the time can be whatever we want! Games. Art. Music.”
“How can an infant have such a busy schedule when my own days are virtually empty?”
“Because he’s got a mommy and daddy who love him and want him to grow up big and strong and smart and happy. And you’ve spent eternity looking down on everyone.” Ivy bounced Leo up and down. “Leo, who am I?”
“Ivy!” he crowed. “Ivy, Ivy, Ivy.”
“And who is that?”
Leo pondered the question. “… Feep,” he decided.
“That is in no way my name.”
“It is cute, though. So what do you want to do now? Sing a song? Read a book? Myranda said Deacon usually makes illusions to show the story. You could do that part.”
“I am a Guardian. He is the child of a Chosen One, and as such a creature of great importance for this world. I will watch over him and keep him from harm. That was sufficient for the world, it should be sufficient for him.”
“Suit yourself, but you’re missing out.” She held Leo in front of her and booped his nose with hers. “Come on, Leo! Auntie Ivy is going to read you a story, and Auntie Feep is going to stand there and be no fun like always.”
“I am not Auntie Feep!” Ether said, walking briskly after them. “This is a terrible mistake…”
Chapter 3
A woman paced through the streets of a small town not far from Verril. A heavy fur cloak hung about her shoulders, its rich, plush hood framing her face. The day had been a long one, but she’d done her work well. Now she was looking forward to some hot tea, some hot soup, and a few well-earned minutes of venting her frustrations to a friendly ear. As she approached the entrance to her modest but comfortable home the door opened and two heavily armed men stepped out. She gave each of them a friendly nod and a half smile.
“Tavers. Merritt. Fine to see you,” she said.
Both men touched their fingers to the brows of their helmets, as if to doff caps to her.
“Evening, Miss Genera,” said the first soldier, presumably Tavers.
“I trust everything is well with him?”
“He hasn’t made a fuss today.” Merritt indicated the curls of black smoke from a thick chimney sticking up from the rear of the roof. “He’s got his hands full, I’d say.”
“Three days of good behavior in a row. At this rate people are liable to believe he’s properly reformed this time,” she said.
They stood beside her as she pulled the large brass key from within her cloak. She slid the cover for the lock aside. The mechanism released a solid click, and she pushed her door open. When no one rushed from within, the soldiers bid her a cheerful good evening and she slipped inside.
The air in her home was hot and dry. Not warm, genuinely hot. Sh
e smiled at the wave of heat and hung her cloak. She didn’t mind the heat. Given the fact that her outfit, with the exception of the cloak, was designed more around its appearance than its utility, she spent most of the day just a bit too chilly. A baking-hot home helped ease that away. After a full day at the edge of shivering, it felt good to wipe a bead of sweat from one’s brow now and again.
“Desmeres?” she called.
Rhythmic whooshes of air, the pumping of bellows, stopped.
“Genera?” he called back.
“Who else would it be, love? Have you eaten?”
“The day has gotten away from me. I’ve not had lunch yet, let alone dinner.”
“I’ll put the tea on if you put the soup on.”
“Certainly. I’ll need just a few minutes more with the forge.”
“Just be sure to make it a few minutes and not a few hours.”
She paced to the kitchen. It shared a thick stone wall with Desmeres’s personal workshop, and thus was a good deal warmer even than the rest of her home. Genera tugged some bone pins from her hair and shook it loose. She filled a kettle with water and set it on an odd strip of metal poking through the wall. Desmeres, for all his faults, was terribly clever. A slab of metal that ran through the wall to the forge meant while he was at work, she needn’t start a fire to cook or boil water. One could simply place it on the sizzling-hot metal and wait a few minutes.
Now with some time on her hands, she kicked off her elegant but impractical shoes and tucked her toes into a pair of fur-lined slippers. Book in hand, she sank into her favorite chair and lit a lamp for a few minutes of reading. The now familiar sounds of huffing bellows and clacking hammers slipped into the back of her mind as she let the words on the page weave into her thoughts. What stood out, to a distracting degree, were the far softer sounds from the outside.
A stiff, irregular breeze rushed against the walls and roof loudly enough to reach her ears. Soft conversation on a usually silent street came next. This city was in the shadow of the Dagger Gale Mountains. No one lingered in the streets for polite conversation. She set the book down and turned to the door. If someone was talking outside her door, they were talking to the soldiers. That seldom boded well for her or Desmeres. The resounding knock on the door came as no surprise a moment later.
The Coin of Kenvard Page 6
