by G. H. Duval
“He, ah…” Jeyson cleared his throat. “Lost his temper a bit, and he hurt one of the boys from town. Broke the boy’s ankle and scared him half to death. The boy is fine, but Harlan’s boy—Dodge—is not. He’s out of his depth and we will have to cuff him now. There’s no way around it. And it must be soon. I’d planned to visit the farm this very day.”
Preon groaned and Myrra made a sound of disgust.
“Yes, yes,” Jeyson said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “We are loath to do it, but we must in order to keep Dodge safe. Even better would be if he could be taken to the Steading. As soon as possible, before any of the townsfolk have a mind to see to him themselves.”
“They would not dare,” hissed Preon.
“Oh, they would, Brother.” Jeyson’s look was level and deadly serious. “And I would very much prefer that my Steady’s and I not have to put that sort of thing down.”
“We’ll take him with us, of course. It should help that Harlan and Geyma know us. We were on good terms when they left Coer. Hopefully, that still counts for something.”
“They’re still loyal, no mistake. And, yes, the fact that it will be Shepherds they know and trust will make this even easier on them. It’s obvious why the Headmistress sent you on this Seek, is it not?”
“But what about the next First?” Preon pressed. “That is why she first sent us out. We cannot simply be here for this boy. Do you sense anything here, Brother? Of her? The Headmistress seems to think she is here…somewhere.” He waved a hand about vaguely.
Jeyson held up a hand. “One moment please,” he murmured, the blue of his eyes replaced with a swirling grey that pulsed with a lavender glow. He channeled his Aspect for a few moments before returning his attention to them, eyes once more their deep, clear blue.
“To be perfectly honest, Preon,” he picked up as if there had been no pause. “I had not felt anything, no. Not until this morning.” He stood and went to the door. “Just as you arrived in fact.” Jeyson smiled, but there was no mirth in the expression. Quickly, he pulled the door open, revealing a startled—and now eyes-bulging, terrified—young woman on the other side.
“But this young lady I believe is about to solve our mystery. Isn’t that right, Spring?”
Seven
“Embrace the unexpected, for even Seers will suffer surprises.”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
Spring held to the shadows, pressed against an oak within the garden bordering the Accord. The garden may have been ornamental and designed to encourage meditation and prayer, but right now, it served by providing her the perfect cover. She had just turned up the path to the entrance when she’d heard the heavy clopping of horses. At first, she’d paused out of simple curiosity, but then she’d seen them: Shepherds of the Firsts. And just like the stories said, they were borne by huge horses clad in chainmail and clearly bred for war.
Out of pure instinct, as if they would know on sight the secret she feared she held, she ran from the path and darted behind the nearest tree. From that cover, she watched them, chewing furiously on one nail.
There were two of them: a blonde man and a dark-haired woman. They wore cloaks of silk in a white so pure they defied belief—the man’s was rimmed in crimson and the woman’s in flashing silver. Shepherds of Fire and Air, then.
They were a study in contrasts. He was fair, though he bore the well-worn tan of a man oft called to travel, with hair that shined an almost-white blonde. His counterpart was as dark as he was fair, with hair so black it appeared nearly blue in the morning sun. Both sat tall and effortless in the saddle, trim and well-muscled.
Soldiers, she thought, and veterans both from the looks of them.
And they were here…in Hayden’s. Spring could not fathom why. But before she could breathe a word of her suspicions to Arbiter Jeyson, she would need to know why the Law had come to town. She must know. Trusting a Spirit Shepherd she expected would soon be related to her by marriage was one thing. Trusting strangers who served the Firsts—the very establishment her mother loathed and whom she may very well be defying—well, that was a vastly different proposition altogether. She waited for the Shepherds to disappear from view as they went around to the back of the Accord—she assumed to hitch their mounts—before she rushed forward and through the massive double-doored entrance.
Spring had only visited the Accord a handful of times in her life. They had come for Mina’s first naming day, as they must have done for her own, when she had been too young to remember. They had come for Brandin’s Declaration, passing through the Accord proper to the Declaration circle they kept ready year-round in the back courtyard. One other time, she’d accompanied her father when he’d come to collect the official documents that granted him the rights to the shop he’d finally been able to purchase in Loring Hill, relocating his smithy from the lower reaches of Hayden’s to where the wealthier patrons lived.
But, though her parents were devout followers of Hirute and had brought up their children in the faith, they were not strictly observant. They may be Shepherds, but they had not taken the oaths of formal service, and Spring had long ago noticed that her parents deliberately avoided dealings with the Firsts and anyone strictly associated with them.
Inside the Accord now, what she remembered most keenly from her few earlier visits came back—the deep, abiding quiet within the walls, and the soft, pulsing hum that settled into her mind and body. The doyens taught that this was a sign of the presence of God, Himself, occupying the houses devoted to His worship. But, as a Shepherd, Spring knew that there was another explanation, one her mother espoused. The sensation was just as likely not coming from God, directly, but from the Spirit Shepherds called to His service. It was the channeling of the au L’espris they were feeling, and the thought made her skin prickle and her blood run cold. She wondered if any of the acolytes moving about the space before her were, even now, rifling through her thoughts. Would she be seized at any moment—labeled a traitor and thrown into chains by a black-clad Steady of the Firsts?
“Mid-morning devotions won’t start for over an hour yet, child,” murmured a voice near her.
Spring yelped, jumping and nearly tripping in her surprise. She had not seen nor heard the man approach.
“Suh…sorry, Brother,” she stammered. “You startled me.” His arrival ended any chance she had of meandering the Accord in hopes of finding the Shepherds she’d seen and learning their reasons for coming.
“So I gathered, child.” He was an older man, older than her father even. He looked at her steadily, concerned.
“Are you well?” he asked her, and she wondered if he would simply peek into her mind to find the answer. But his eyes remained a normal shade of brown, no swirling grey to indicate the channeling of his Aspect. She took a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves.
“I am, Brother,” she assured him. “I…I…” Another deep breath. “I have come to see the Arbiter,” she finally managed to get out. “Would he be available for an audience, by any chance?”
“The Audience calendar is closed for the next week, I’m afraid. Can this wait, child?”
“No, I do not think it can.”
She was proud of herself that she’d not taken the easy way out; not taken this as a sign that her confession was not to be and that she could put off dealing with this horrid secret a bit longer.
“Will you get a message to him for me?” she asked politely. “Tell him it is Spring au Terre. He, ah…he knows me.”
“The Arbiter knows all his children, Sister,” he replied, almost automatically, as if quoting scripture. But she noticed that he had addressed her more respectfully, as an equal, now that he knew her to be a fellow Shepherd. “But I shall do as you’ve asked. Follow me.”
As he turned, Spring fell in beside him, but she was certain she saw the flash of lavender in his eyes as he moved. Was he already passing the message to Brother Jeyson? Spring clasped her hands tightly to keep them from
shaking and followed him on suddenly weak legs, as if her limbs were going numb.
Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.
He led Spring out of the sanctuary and through a series of dimly lighted halls. By the time he came to a stop, Spring’s sense of direction was nonexistent.
“Wait here, Sister. The Arbiter will be with you shortly.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Spring standing before an unadorned door. There were no chairs or benches nearby, so she leaned against the wall, close to the door but not obstructing it. She wondered if Jeyson were about the grounds or already within. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she inched closer to the door, angling her head to listen. There were voices within, but she could not make out the words.
She stood there, eavesdropping futilely for what seemed an era. She shifted from one leg to the other, trying to keep the blood moving. She was accustomed to being on her feet, but she was usually quite busy and most certainly did not simply stand about for minutes on end. The waiting was maddening.
Just about the time she decided that she’d had enough and readied herself to leave, she heard movement from within. One of the voices must have come near the door, as she could finally make out what was being said.
“Just as you arrived in fact,” sounded through the door. The next instant, the door swung open, revealing Arbiter Jeyson.
“But this young lady I believe is about to solve our mystery. Isn’t that right, Spring?”
Spring took an involuntary step back, too stunned to speak. Noticing that she was off balance, the Arbiter reached for her, offering a steadying hand. Spring only stared at it.
“Come now,” Jeyson admonished her gently. “Are we not long past such behavior, Spring?”
And just like that, she realized they were, indeed. She knew this man, and he was not just a pawn of his office, no matter how her mother would insist otherwise. Yes, he was the Firsts’ Arbiter, but he was also a fellow Shepherd, and a member of House Hevlin. He was all of those men, and none of them would harm her—or her family—if he had any alternative. She trusted him; she had to.
She took his hand and he nodded approvingly as he led her into the room. The Shepherds she’d spotted earlier rose from where they sat before a well-built fire. They acknowledged her, inclining their heads, but said nothing as if she were a feral animal that might spook at any moment.
“Why don’t you join us by the fire?” Jeyson suggested, guiding her to one of the now-vacant chairs. The Fire Shepherd moved to stand between her and the fire. His eyes glowed as he channeled his Aspect, and the fire behind him dimmed slightly. He tapped a fist to the emblem of the Firsts on his breast and bowed to her.
“I am Preon au Feur, Captain of the Firsts Rangers, Crimson Complement,” he offered as he stood. His eyes had gone back to normal, but the heat emanating from his body was unmistakable.
“And this is Myrra au Ciele, Preon’s second.” Jeyson motioned to the dark-haired woman, who repeated the salute. She did not bow, but she did hold Spring’s eyes and offer a small smile. She looked at Spring intently, and Spring shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
“Pleased to meet you,” Spring murmured, trying desperately to regain her composure and recall her manners.
Jeyson took the seat nearest to her while Myrra resettled into the last remaining chair.
“Now then,” Jeyson said, drawing her eyes to his. “I believe you were preoccupied with what these agents of the Firsts might want with our little town, yes?”
Spring nodded, a flush rising to her cheeks; she’d been right and he had sensed her thoughts. She wondered just how much he already knew of what she had come to tell him.
“We’ve come to Seek,” Preon interjected. “Brother Jeyson seems to think you may know something of the au L’espri youth we are seeking. Is that so?”
Though Preon’s voice was neutral, polite even, a severe and deadly serious current flowed just beneath the words. Suddenly, the room seemed too hot, the bodies around her too close.
“No. I…that is, ehm…” Spring struggled to find her footing, and Jeyson reached across the small distance to take her hand again. He radiated calm and safety.
“I am not sure what I know, Captain,” she said, feeling steadier, keeping her eyes on Jeyson. “I came this morning because I saw something I did not understand. Something that frightened me. So I came here, trusting that Brother Jeyson could guide me.”
“You did the right thing, Spring.” Jeyson said encouragingly. “Go on. Tell us what you saw.”
“It’s Mina, Brother Jeyson. My sister. Do you remember her? You presided over her naming, and then you met her again, at my father’s smithy?” It had been nearly a year since that chance meeting on the Hill, but she hoped he would recall.
“Of course, Spring,” he said. “I am familiar with your entire family, Sister.”
She flushed, embarrassed by her blunder and unable to master her nerves. She decided to plunge ahead and stop thinking.
“Well, then, you’ll recall that she is sickly. She has fits. Seizures. And she’s often confused, speaking nonsense. And you know I’ve been studying under Tahnia. Well, ehm…” Another deep breath.
“She had a particularly terrible fit this morning. The worst I’ve ever seen. I tried using the healing technique that Tahnia has been showing me, but-”
Spring’s voice caught then broke as the memory came back to her. For some reason, saying it aloud and describing it to others made it real—made it worse.
“Her eyes,” Spring croaked, sobbing softly now. “They swirled grey then flashed as do yours, Arbiter. Just like yours.” She could go on no more. She simply dropped her face into her hands and cried.
A body lowered next to her chair and arms circled her. To Spring’s surprise, it was Myrra who held her. She stroked Spring’s hair and held her tight. After a few moments, the sobs relented, and Spring dared to face the adults surrounding her. Myrra stayed where she was, at Spring’s side.
“I’ve got it now,” Myrra said so softly it was barely more than a whisper. “You’re Lena’s child aren’t you? Lena au Terre?” Spring nodded, incredulous. How can she know that? She is not of Spirit…
“I knew it!” Myrra added, her voice now full of conviction. “I knew you looked familiar. And your voice…you remind me of your mother when she was your age, Spring.” Myrra’s smile was warm, full of affection.
“You knew my mother?” Spring’s mind raced. Myrra was not of Hayden’s, that she knew for certain, so that meant…“You were at the Steading with my mother.”
Myrra nodded. “Indeed I was. So was Preon. And we knew your father, as well.”
Spring reeled. This could not be a coincidence. For the first time in her life, actual officers of the Firsts—not the local Steadies of the Accord, but actual members of the Firsts’ army—had come to Hayden’s. And they just happened to be long-ago friends of her parents? Just happened to be looking for a Seer? She allowed herself to feel the slightest kernel of hope.
“Are you saying,” Preon began, eyes burning a soft orange in his excitement. “That you believe your sister to be a Spirit Shepherd, Spring?”
“I think she may be, yes.” Spring’s voice was small and weak, but she’d managed to say it.
“I felt something this morning. When I healed her. Something that had never happened before. And if I’m right about what it was, she is not just au L’espri. She is a Seer in the making.” She thrust her chin up, daring any of them to contradict her.
“And you would like me to discern if you are, in fact, correct,” Jeyson added. “Is that not why you came to me?”
“It is, Brother.”
“Then, let’s have a look, shall we?”
Myrra moved to stand behind Spring’s chair and placed a hand comfortingly on Spring’s shoulder. Jeyson took both of Spring’s hands into his own.
“Just stay calm,” he instructed. “This will not hurt, but it may feel strange.”
; She nodded, her throat suddenly dry and closed tight with the primal fear any sane person would feel when confronted with a Seer’s search.
Jeyson called his Aspect, and he must have done so with authority as his eyes did not swirl with grey. One moment, they were their normal blue. The next, they were completely grey with a lavender aura pulsing at the edges.
The next moment, she felt him in her mind, a pressure behind her eyes. It was not painful, as he had promised, but it was uncomfortable—akin to feeling a spec in one’s eye and not being able to clear it. The pressure nagged at her.
Suddenly, she was transported back to her bedroom, standing above the bed and staring down at her sweating, raving sister. She had Mina’s arm in her hand, and she called to her Aspect to begin the healing. Mina’s eyes swirled with grey. An amethyst glow flared briefly. Then the searing pain came again, but this time Spring could not feel it, even though she recalled it happening. She watched herself cry out in pain and fall to the floor.
Then she was back in Jeyson’s office, all traces of the morning’s episode gone.
“You are correct, Spring,” Jeyson confirmed, and Spring’s stomach knotted. Though she had been almost certain of her suspicions, knowing them to be real, inescapable, was worse. Her mind raced with the ramifications, and she felt frozen by the press of all there was to consider. She had no idea what to do next.
Jeyson looked away from her to Myrra then Preon.
“Mina is a Seer. And she is growing in her power, though she knows nothing of it. This morning, she drew stamina from Spring with no conscious intent—such is her power. We can thank the Great Shepherd she did not harm Spring seriously in that act. We must get her to First Siare and Mother Wilha as soon as possible.”
“Wait!” Spring cried, leaping to her feet. “You can’t just take her!” It took all her effort not to wail like an infant.
“You know we can, Spring,” Jeyson said firmly, but he had taken her hands again. “But we will not do as you fear. We will not assume the worst and take Mina by force. If your parents can be reasoned with, we will not arrest them.”
