A CHILD OF
GREAT PROMISE
An Altearth Tale
Ellis L. Knox
Copyright © 2018 by Ellis L. Knox
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
This is a work of alternate historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination combined with actual locales and historical events.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the online communities for all their support, guidance, and wise counsel: to Mythic Scribes foremost, but also to SFF Chronicles and to the Fantasy Faction forums.
Thanks to my editor, Elayne Morgan, for an outstanding job, not only in working through the seemingly innumerable permutations in foreign words and forms of address, but also for spotting continuity errors. Smooth sailing!
The cover was done by Milo at Deranged Doctor Design, who are not at all deranged and are excellent designers.
The map is by Zach Bodenner, who did the one for my other novel, Goblins at the Gates, as well. I always set him unusual challenges and he always rises to the occasion.
CONTENTS
Above White Hills
The Cenobitum
Walking the Flame
Come Away
Into the Blue
The Gardiens
Across the Marais
Arles
In Search of a King
The Elf Chevalier
Tournoi
The Geas
Victory
The Cierzo Karwan
The Trovador
The Fisher Elves
Joana and Bernat
Flight and Fight
River Crossing
Puig Balabor
Conversation with a Wizard
The Redoubt
Lies, and a Truth
Lo Tarrasco
Settling Accounts
Companions
Afterword
To my darling wife
CHAPTER ONE
Above White Hills
Talysse flew low to the ground, trying to gain altitude. The wind was treacherous down here, a steady tramontane sweeping tumultuously down from the north, swirling among the tall reeds and the salt hills. The breeze on which she rode sagged abruptly, giving her barely enough time to get her feet down. She touched solid ground and sprang upward again like an antelope, grabbing hold of a new current to ride.
She smiled. She was getting better at this. It had been weeks since she’d had her last spill. She only wished she could get away more often.
Thinking of getting away made her think of getting back, and that made her think of Saldemer and the Prevôt, which sort of ruined the moment.
Twice she caught the wind while it was running wide and strong, rising as high as the treetops. As she rushed above them, she felt like the freest creature in the world, and a grin spread across her face and would not leave. The marais—the marshlands of the Camargue—spread below her in brilliantly intense colors. The sand grass shone springtime green, and the forests of reeds had yet to turn brown. The sea was a pastiche of blues, from indigo-dark near the horizon to an azure that matched the sky to pale shades where the many mouths of the Rhône River pooled into small lakes. Scattered between lay salt pans in wide, reddish squares marked off with tidy pathways. Here and there, entire hills of salt shone a dazzling white.
Gnomes toiled at one of the salt pans, pulling the brackish water to the edge with their long wooden rakes. She veered away from them. If they noticed her, they might say something, for the gnomes belonged to the Saldemer cenobitum, where she lived. Talysse had learned to fly only a few months ago. For a host of reasons, she wanted to keep this particular ability a secret from the people of Saldemer.
Movement further out caught her eye, and she swerved westward. The wind was steady and pure. She felt it as a wide carpet beneath her, as if she rode a cloud, substantial but not solid. Her muscles were starting to ache, a reminder that she could not fly forever, but she wanted to go see the gardiens.
She adored the herdsmen of the Camargue, with their white horses and black cattle. Everything about them was wild and free. In the long, dull nights at Saldemer, alone in her bare room, memories of the gardiens riding the marais fortified her. She was imprisoned at the cenobitum, but somewhere people were free.
The gardiens were too far away. She dared not go farther, but she circled twice, as much to rejoice in her command of the air as to enjoy the scene below.
Two bands of riders—women riding with the men, a rare thing among humankind—on either side of a herd of a dozen horses. Wild, of course. Gardiens did not tame the horses they rode, but accompanied them. No one could ride the great white horses save these rugged horsemen, themselves half wild. No one ruled the gardiens. She had asked one, once, “Who is your king?”
“We have no king,” came the reply. “Free people rule themselves.”
The horses were trying to flee, or maybe they were just frolicking. Their leader dashed into the low surf, the herd following. All were the color of fresh cream, save two colts who had yet to grow out of their brown yearling coats. The stallion who led them was pure white, as white as sea foam, and he ran through the low breakers like a wave.
The gardiens pulled up and let the stallion tire himself, knowing the herd must come back. Talysse circled, happiness burbling like a spring inside her. A vast cloud of flamingos rose away to her right, wheeling and settling again, as if someone had shaken an enormous scarlet blanket over the marshland bed. Their weird squawking, like hoarse ducks, gave her still another reason to smile. Below, a gardien noticed her, and raised his round black hat to her. He must have called to the others, for all now waved at her.
She wanted to stay, to test herself to the limit, but she knew Detta would worry. Detta always worried about her, for it was in her nature, but Talysse hated to have her fret. It really was getting late; if she were caught returning late there would be questions she did not want to answer, and she was too tired to lie.
She held onto the moment as long as she could, wheeling like a gull. Then her aching muscles said it was time to go. When she banked away it was like leaving behind a perfect gem, lying on the sand.
Detta was still searching the horizon when Talysse landed behind her.
“Detta, I flew the farthest yet!”
The gnome spun around, sending salt cascading in rivulets down the hill. Her fur-covered face was in shadow, but Talysse was lit up by the setting sun. A sheen of sweat made her face glow. Her green eyes shone like wet jade, and her silver hair glittered.
Detta put one hand to her mouth.
“Oh, Lyssie,” she said.
“It was marvelous, Detta,” Talysse said, her voice trembling, still gulping air. “I stayed in the air for ever so long.” She hurried the words in between gasps. “I felt the wind, tante. I mean… more than felt it.” She swallowed another gulp. “I saw it. Heard it. I even could taste it, you know? But of course you don’t. I hardly understand it myself.”
“That’s wonderful, Lyssie, but—” Detta began.
“Isn’t it though? It’s fantastic! There’s not just one wind up there.” She waved an arm skyward. “It’s full of currents. They twist and mingle and you’ve got to be ever so quick, but you can grab them, or anyway I can grab them, and then I just held on. I didn’t so much fly as ride.” She looked up at the wide blue sky and shivered. “It was entirely unique.”
“Lyssie,” Detta said, solemn as a judge, “the gates are going to close.”
“What? Oh, yes, of
course. It’s nearly sundown, after all. Want to see me fly?” Talysse took two quick steps.
“I do, I do,” Detta said hastily. “Perhaps, though, it would be better another day, when we are not so rushed. Even if we hurry, I wonder if we can return to the cenobitum in time. If we are late, I fear the honorable Prevôt will be quite angry. Do you not fear it will be so?”
Talysse was finally recovering her breath. She glanced left and right. “I admit I am tired,” she said. “It’s exhausting to fly.”
“Poor dear.”
“But I won’t get in trouble. Listen: You must go to the gate. It will very likely be closed. You will say you were out looking for me.”
Detta’s round eyes widened. “You want me to lie?”
“Of course not,” Talysse said. “You were looking for me just now, weren’t you?”
Detta admitted she was.
“Well then, it’s not a lie. Meanwhile, I’ll go in by my secret way. Don’t worry, I won’t be caught. Prevôt Trumbert will be calling the meal, and the twins will probably already be at table. The rest don’t care two pebbles about me.”
Detta rocked from one foot to the other, as she did when unsure.
“So there we are,” Talysse said. “No trouble at all. But you are right, tante. We’d best head back.”
CHAPTER TWO
The Cenobitum
The setting sun threw long shadows before them as Talysse and Detta approached the cenobitum of Saldemer. Its low, salt-encrusted walls glowed a pale rose in the fading light. Detta peered around the side of a salt hill, the only cover provided in the flat marshlands of the Camargue, which itself glowed pink in the sunset.
“The doors are closed, Lyssie. Ayi, ayi.” She shook her head in dismay.
“Good,” Talysse said. “Means no one is watching for us. Unless Trumbert is balanced on top of the wall.”
Detta giggled at this.
“Go, then,” Talysse continued. “Ring the bell, and someone will let you in. I’ll go around.”
Detta left, worrying to herself in a soft mumble, the six fingers of each hand twining around each other like vines.
Talysse watched for a moment, then set off at a trot. There was no point in trying to hide, for on three sides of the walls was only white sand, while the blue Mediterranean washed the base of the fourth. No one would be looking, she was sure. Cenobites spent their days looking inward, not outward, and the wall enclosed everything in case their attention should stray. The one exception was the lighthouse tower, which rose into the sky like a finger pointing at a star.
She skirted the tower. The watchman at its summit would be looking anywhere but down. Old Ebron was often asleep this time of day, but when he looked it would be seaward. Here near the tower’s base, the wall was lower, with orange trees just inside, providing excellent cover. She leaped, sailing seven feet into the air, landing with a thump on the sandy soil. She smiled to herself: another secret she kept from the Prevôt.
She looked beneath the branches of the orange trees. The interior of the cenobitum was free of buildings, like the interior of a great villa, with a mosaic of gardens and benches and trees of lemon and orange. A fountain at the center provided cool, fresh water to the thirty cenobites and their gnome workers, and to the eight donati—children whose parents had put them in the care of the cenobitum.
From the orange trees it was easy to slip across open ground into the shadows of the colonnade. She might find brethren here, pretending to meditate as they escaped the day’s heat, but at this hour they were likely in the common hall awaiting supper. An open doorway with a wooden lintel led into the residence hall.
The twins were waiting for her there: Çi and Ça. Talysse had called them this for so long, it was an effort to remember that their full names were Cécile and Casimir. Her other names for them were Bad and Worse.
“Good evening, Talysse,” Cécile said. “So very nice of you to stop in.” She tilted her head, first up, then to the side, by which she meant she knew a secret.
“The Prevôt is asking after you,” Casimir said, mimicking his sister’s head tilt.
Twins in every respect, the two shared the same curly light brown hair, faces as narrow as a wasp, pale brown eyes that stared only at your back, and intuition for a person’s weaknesses.
“He should have sent word to me. I’ve been meditating,” Talysse said. She looked Cécile in the eye, trying to challenge her.
“No you haven’t,” said Casimir. He grinned without showing teeth.
“You weren’t in your cell, all day.” Cécile grinned in exactly the same way.
“I was out,” Talysse said. She gambled. “In the garden.”
“No you weren’t,” said Casimir.
“We looked,” added Cécile.
It was as if neither could manage a complete thought on their own.
“You weren’t thorough,” Talysse said. “Obviously.”
“Be careful of what you say next, Talysse.” Prevôt Trumbert’s voice came from close behind her. The twins looked at each other and smiled with their eyes.
“Be careful,” Casimir said.
“Half-girl,” said Cécile.
Talysse glared at them, but the word cut as deep as it ever did. Demi. Half. Half-human or half-elf, or just half—but never whole.
“Do not insult,” Trumbert said, without sincerity. “You two go along to table now. I will speak to our errant donata.”
Here it comes, Talysse thought. Another scolding, another stupid lecture on responsibility and applying myself. She lowered her head slightly and set her jaw. Her shoulders tightened.
“I’m not going to reprimand you,” Trumbert said, “nor shall I ask where you have been. I know you’ve been out. I got that much from your gnome.”
Talysse’s head snapped up. “Did you scold Detta?”
“It was not necessary. She’s as transparent as air.”
“You’d better not have made her cry.”
“She’s a gnome, Talysse. You dote far too much on her.” He held his chin at the level of Talysse’s forehead and glared down his nose at her. “You vex me as always, but I won’t bring that up, either.”
You just did. Talysse nearly said it aloud. She gritted her teeth. Everything about the cenobitum conspired to ruin the joy she’d had from flying.
“I am here to inform you of your obligation tomorrow.”
Talysse shifted her stance, instantly on guard. Life in the cenobitum was all routine; unexpected things were invariably bad. “Obligation?” she asked carefully.
“We have a visitor.” Trumbert gestured behind her. The motion caused his silk robe to ripple in the fading light.
She scanned the plaza, from the fountain over to the orange trees and back the other way. Then she saw them: three armed men, each with a mail shirt and a sword at his hip, beneath the colonnade that fronted the living quarters.
“Have we been invaded?” She turned back to Trumbert.
“No, you foolish girl. Those are merely bodyguards, for our visitor is a very important man.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“He is Saveric, a wizard from Paris, and a Syndic.” He paused grandly, raising an open palm for emphasis.
“Is he a friend of Remigius?” Talysse asked, trying to work out why a wizard would be here. None of the other donati had a wizard for a patron.
“Pff. Who knows? I do not inquire about such things. He is a Syndic and he has requested a Demonstrandum tomorrow morning.”
Talysse frowned. The Prevôt frowned back.
“You will demonstrate mastery by walking the flame,” he intoned, still reaching for grandness.
This was too much. “Ooh, may I?” Talysse said, clapping her hands together like an excited child. “Or maybe we could have Rolf do it.”
“That will be enough of that,” Trumbert declared. “Poor Rolf is too young and you know it.” He shook a thumb in her face. “This is a serious business, a most serious business.”
/> “Where is Remigius? Why isn’t he here?” She fought to keep worry out of her voice. However much she enjoyed baiting the Prevôt, she sensed something more serious was indeed afoot.
Trumbert sniffed. “Your patron is not in attendance. He has already seen you walk the flame.”
“More than once,” Talysse muttered.
“I do not know why this Syndic has requested a Demonstrandum, but you will perform it to perfection. He is powerful. He’s from Paris, so he certainly has important, possibly even royal, connections. A great deal hangs on this, Talysse. Perhaps even your fate as a donata.” His smile hinted at triumph.
She lowered her head so he could not see her worried reaction. She was nearly of an age to be able to leave Saldemer Cenobitum of her own volition. That day would begin a whole new life for her. Was he hinting the day might be moved? Taken away altogether? It would be just like him—even more like him to have someone else do the deed for him.
Worry layered over her fatigue, bearing her down. She wished she had flown away and not come back.
“You will have the morning to prepare. I’ll even send you your gnome. She will at least make you…” He eyed her up and down. “…presentable. You must perform well, Talysse. You must not embarrass us.”
The Prevôt turned his head as if looking for help from somewhere. He raised both hands; rings glittered there. “Give your word you will not misbehave,” Trumbert said with a sigh. “I cannot put it more plainly.”
Talysse’s right hand curled into a fist. She kept it tight against her thigh, and glared at him as she tried to swallow her anger. She didn’t have the strength for a fight just now, but she had the heart for one. She pictured how Trumbert must have browbeaten poor Detta. How he would have bowed and scraped before some dusty old wizard from the north. Where was Remigius? For a moment she wondered if he had signed her over to this other man. She had not been entirely pleasant with Remigius, the last few visits. Would her patron really go so far?
A Child of Great Promise: An Altearth Tale Page 1
