by D. L. Carter
The Sanctuary was on the other side of the village from House Pitchuri. Fortunately traffic on this road was light. For a little while Halidan divided her attention between watching the road and her father. She didn’t doubt that the driver was more than willing to shovel her, her father, and their belongings out with the same amount of delicacy as he did with his usual cargo. She had to be ready to unload as fast as she could. She searched through the scattered piles beside her until she found a couple of sheets – from the look of the things she’d gathered the servants had just grabbed anything that came to hand – laundry, stray scraps of paper – while stealing and hiding the true contents of Halidan’s and Ephram’s rooms.
Still, the fabric was good quality and it looked as if the servants included enough of their true belongings to keep up the appearance of destroying everything belonging to the mortals – assuming their mistress had bothered to watch.
Quickly, Halidan sorted everything into rough piles. Her clothing, her father’s clothing went into one pile. She found a few books, pages bent and twisted, leather covers soot-stained and wrapped them up as well. She had no time to grieve for lost possessions. Inside one of the books she found her father’s book brace as well as his ivory page turner. The brace was a smooth lead stick widened and flattened at each end. Designed to hold a book open for a reader without damaging the fragile paper it was a full forearm length and covered with clean, cream colored leather; the whole thing was satisfyingly heavy. Halidan set that to one side and busied herself with tying her remaining belongings into bedsheet sacks. She then picked up the book brace and waited.
After a few leis – at a quiet, tree shielded section of the road – the driver pulled the wagon to a halt and glanced back at Halidan. As he did, she stared straight into his eyes, rose to her feet and tapped the book brace on her palm. It rebounded off the soft flesh with a loud slap – slap – slap. After staring at each other for a few moments the driver sighed, turned, and whipped his horse into motion. He did not look back again until they drew into the Blue Waters Sanctuary forecourt.
Chapter Two
“No one has ever experienced such loss. Such pain. Such unutterable devastation. Never! I am in agony. No one has ever plumbed the depths equal to my despair.”
“Oh, I expect they have,” said Norfarland. “People have been around for hundreds of centuries and in that time someone or other will have had their love denied just as you have. There's nothing new with that.
“I will not survive.”
Norfarland shrugged.
“Certainly you will. The only question is what will you do with your survival? Will you live in day-to-day awareness of being the lesser man: the one refused, the one rejected and found unworthy, the one with the least money; or . . . will you exact revenge?”
The Adventures of Norfarland the Bastard ~ Book 19
The great forecourt of Blue Waters Sanctuary was usually a hive of activity. Not only was it the major temple and hospital for the countryside for a hundred leis in every direction, but the Sanctuary rented out offices along one side of the courtyard to representatives of the guilds who didn’t have enough members in the neighborhood to warrant an independent establishment. Mid-day, mid-week, midnight didn’t matter – visitors to the Sanctuary could expect to spend half an hour or more waiting outside the gate until someone else completed their business, left, and made room for them to enter. Halidan gathered her courage and prepared to be both loud and obnoxious in order to get her father to the healers as fast as possible . . . and when the wagoner drove without pause into the empty courtyard she found herself feeling almost shocked. She balanced carefully at the side of the wagon staring around the empty space.
“We’re here,” said the driver. “Pay me and get out.”
“Be patient,” said Halidan absently. “Where is everyone?”
The main temple door was thrust open at that moment and a tall square-faced Elf in the pale blue vestments of the Water priesthood came charging down the steps.
“Get that foul thing out of here at once,” he shouted to the driver.
“I will, soon as I’m paid,” was the reply.
“Brother,” called Halidan, ignoring the driver, “My father is ill. We need to see the healers.”
“Not today,” replied the brother, deeply affronted. “We are in expectation of High Lord Eioth. His outriders have just this minute arrived. He will be here instantly. I will not have this filthy cart or . . .” he paused and stared at Ephram’s crumpled body, “or an illness paraded before the High Lord. You must come back tomorrow.”
“You . . .” began Halidan, her hands tightening into fists.
“This is a place of healing,” interrupted a soft voice from behind Halidan. “Therefore, this is the proper place and when there is a need, now is always the proper time.”
She spun to face the new arrival. Matriarch Netha had required Halidan and her father to bring the children to each and every public ritual held at Blue Waters Sanctuary, which meant Halidan immediately recognized Prior Brethic, second in authority at the Sanctuary.
“But, today?” protested the first brother. “No. No. We cannot permit a mortality to happen when the High Lord is here. It would interfere with the dignity of his processional.”
“Any day. Any hour. All who have need are welcomed. If you do not understand this, then the Brotherhood of Water is, perhaps, not the place for you,” said Prior Brethic with ponderous calm, and reached over the side of the cart to touch the side of Ephram’s face. “I am sorry, child,” he said, looking up at Halidan. “I have seen mortals fetched here for treatment of many different illnesses, so I can tell you, I have seen this condition before. Your father has the look of one whose spirit is about to depart.”
Tears fogged Halidan’s vision, but she blinked them away and forced herself to nod. “Yes. I thought as much.”
“Then why are you here wasting our time?” demanded the other brother.
Both Halidan and the Prior turned heated gazes on him and he took several steps back.
“I can see High Lord Eioth’s party approaching, Brother Hospitabler,” said the Prior. “Be about your business and welcome him. I shall attend to the little sister’s needs.”
“Then get them out of sight,” said the Brother irritably. “Take the cart behind the stables until his party is all within doors.”
The Prior pulled himself to his full height and stared down his nose at the other Elf. “I do not recall Father Abbot raising you in authority over me.”
The brother blanched and backed away, stammering an apology.
“Oh, do go greet the High Lord; I will deal with our other guests.” The Prior waited until the brother had departed before smiling an apology at Halidan. “He is an ambitious piece and thinks to impress the High Lord into granting him some favor by turning himself into a doormat. Forgive him, if you can.”
Before Halidan could respond the Prior gestured to a few other brothers gathered to one side of the cloisters. They didn’t seem to need instructions, but approached with a narrow stretcher held between them. Halidan couldn’t fault their handling of her father. They didn’t cringe nor show any revulsion of him or their task, nor any reluctance to handle him because he was mortal. Instead they gently lifted Ephram onto the stretcher and carried him into the Sanctuary just as a rattle of hooves on stone announced the arrival of the High Lord’s party. Halidan grabbed the nearest of her sacks of belongings and the Prior himself took up the other.
“Here! What about my money,” demanded the wagoner?
Halidan reached into her sash and stared up at the Elf.
“Sir, may you receive in equal measure all the charity and kindness you have shown to me today,” she said, her voice echoing across the forecourt and she tossed the coins onto the rough floor where her father had lain. Then she turned and followed the Prior into the cool shelter of the cloister.
“I am sorry to tell you,” said the Prior when Halidan had caught up t
o him, “that our hospitality is not up to its usual standard. The High Lord’s messenger this morning advised us that his party has enlarged somewhat over previous years. We are stretched to our limit. Indeed, we spent the morning moving those already under our care into shared chambers so that the hospital wing could be turned over to the use of the High Lord’s party.”
Halidan said nothing, but walked faster. The Elves carrying her father had vanished and, even though they were of the healing brotherhood, she didn’t trust Elves too far this afternoon.
“It would not be fair to your father or to those already here to move things about again to make room for him, especially considering his need.” The Prior halted, touching Halidan lightly on the arm to stop her. “Please do not take it amiss, but I have directed my brothers to take you and your father to the mortuary chapel.” At Halidan’s shocked gasp he continued. “Dear girl, you know yourself that your father is not long for this world. I will, of course, send the healers to you, and if by some miracle they can aid your father and he survives the night, then tomorrow when the High Lord’s party is gone we will move him to the hospital wing. In the meantime, the mortuary chapel is a quiet and private place and you will be able to stay with him. If he were in with the ill and injured tonight the healers would send you away because of the overcrowding. So, daughter, will it be as I say?”
It took Halidan several attempts before she managed to get any words out. The tears that she struggled not to shed clogged her mouth and for a moment even breathing was agony. When she could force out the words she nodded and said, “Thank you.”
* * *
Eioth halted in the middle of the main staircase and watched the slender mortal woman disappear into the shelter of the Sanctuary, the trailing edges of her headscarf fluttering in the breeze. Her clothing was filthy and stained from the wood of the garbage cart and her face was drawn thin with worry and grief, but despite it all, she was one of the fairest females he’d seen for many years. Her skin was pale for a mortal, and her face well sculpted with a nose slightly long for Traditional Beauty over a well-shaped, soft mouth. No one could fault the grace of her carriage and movement, nor could they criticize her womanly figure.
Her voice and words had reached him clearly. Her diction was perfect and voice pure even as she uttered that clever curse. Someone had wronged this girl that much was clear. It was unlikely to have been something that would reach his attention. She was in company with the Prior and Eioth had reason to trust that Elf’s ability and judgment.
The brother in charge of the Sanctuary’s hospitality who had shadowed his steps from the courtyard with continuous chatter so like the yipping of a dog that Eioth was tempted to slap him on the nose, ran ahead bowing every other step to open doors with his own hands.
“I am personally responsible for preparing for your arrival. Should you experience any need, see any lack, please call upon me. It shall be my honor to fulfill your needs.”
“Peace, I beg you,” sighed Eioth. “I have journeyed this way before. I have never had cause to fault the hospitality of this Sanctuary. I have all that I require and you have other guests tonight. Please do not let me keep you from your duties.”
The brother didn’t move. “None more important than you. They can wait . . .”
Now Eioth permitted himself to frown and turned his head just enough so he could regard the brother over his shoulder – a look he had practiced in the mirror as a youth and had used since to very good effect. Once he saw he had the brother’s attention, he raised an eyebrow and had the satisfaction of seeing the Elf grow paler still.
“Your other guests, be they members of my entourage, or traveling under the protection of my hand, or some stranger to me, all deserve your labor. Are you suggesting they may receive inferior service while residing at the Sanctuary? ”
“No, of course not. No. I shall go at once. Everything will be perfect. Be assured, High Lord.”
Eventually ,Mitash took pity on Eioth – and the brother – grabbing him by the arm and giving the brother a gentle shove toward the stairs.
“Be of good service to me, Mitash,” said Eioth in a low voice when the other Elf was out of sight, “and ensure I don’t see that . . . individual, again.”
Mitash smiled. “I do not believe you can be spared a leave-taking ceremony in the morning, but I can keep him away tonight.”
“Elements bless you.”
They had rested at Blue Waters Sanctuary more times than either was prepared to count and knew the accommodations that awaited them fairly well. Or at least they thought they did. When Mitash threw open the door of the largest guest room, Eioth could not conceal his gasp of horror. He walked slowly into the center of the receiving room, then turned in place, regarding the changes in the furnishings with a sad shake of his head.
The Grand Guest room – there was nothing subtle in the room-naming practices of the Blue Waters Sanctuary – had been redecorated since his last visit. Gone were the old leather chairs whose covers has been stretched by much use with the stuffing beaten down just enough to make them truly comfortable. In their place were delicate, sharp-edged, cushionless chairs wrought of metal and wood. The matching tables were too low and too small to be of any use other than displaying the decorations carved along their legs. Extravagant hangings blocked the light from the windows. Eioth was shocked, then annoyed when he recognized the patterns repeating themselves along the chairs, in the light holders, everywhere throughout the chamber. It was his family sigil entwined over and over again into the Sigils of the Elements.
He could not imagine why anyone would think he would be pleased to see this sort of a display, though he knew who had to be responsible. That blasted obsequious brother! Eioth was not arrogant. He knew who he was and where his influence extended; therefore, he did not demand a great show of groveling obeisance. He glared at one particularly garish chair – with his family mark worked in gold and embraced by the Sigils of all the Elements in glowing enamels – and his hands clenched. Mitash caught the direction of his gaze and together they contemplated the room’s decorations.
Then both sighed and the moment of anger passed.
“And the worst of it,” said Eioth mournfully, “is that there is no chair worth sitting upon.”
“I shall conduct a search for the old furniture, High Lord,” said Mitash, and vanished.
Eioth considered calling after his secretary, asking him to make his displeasure known to the Abbot and Prior, but such an action would be pointless and it would offend and embarrass the Abbot. He would speak to the Abbot at departure, quietly and in person, and express his concerns. He shook his head again and turned to the more urgent task of finding a comfortable seat.
The bedchamber contained a monstrosity of a bed – gilded, glazed, befringed, oversupplied with pillows and again marked with the High Lord’s sigil. Eioth seized a double armful of pillows and carried them back to the main room. The room still boasted a broad, long, and above all, hard, window seat. Eioth swept back a window hanging – displaying one of his ancestors summoning the Element of Water – and arranged the pillows along the cold stone. When he’d done the best he could to make the window seat comfortable he climbed aboard and stared out, stretching a tendril of power into a sky already darkening as the clouds gathered for the evening rain.
This being a valley watched over by the Blue Waters Sanctuary, the rain always fell in its proper hour. Eioth could sense the Water gathering in the air, the winds and clouds tumbling together in obedience to ancient summoning spells. Tonight the hour of rain would be torrential, clearing the day’s humidity and dropping the temperature to a comfortable one for sleep. The sky would clear before full dark and by morning the roads would be dry for a pleasant day’s travel.
Satisfied, Eioth pulled his attention back from the sky and reached into his sash. The Essay had ridden there ever since he’d appropriated it from Kelth's library, but he’d yet to have the leisure to read it.
Since
leaving the Kelth estate, he’d spent the days traveling and the evenings in the homes of his subordinates all of whom were determined to entertain their High Lord in good style – or bombard him with their various whims and needs.
Or worse yet . . . their daughters.
No matter. Tonight he had no obligations. The Abbot and the Prior knew from previous visits that he required nothing more of them than their absence. Mitash would deal with that idiot in charge of the Sanctuary’s hospitality, leaving Eioth free for some long overdue reading.
He settled the cushions more comfortably behind his back, drew his ivory page turner out of his sash, opened the journal at random, and read: . . . greatest difficulty associated with Sex Magic is the choosing, training, preparation, and maintenance of the Sex Magic partner. The difficulty is not so much the expense of the preparatory baths – see appendix 3 . . .
Eioth flipped through to the appendices. Three baths, it seemed, were necessary to prepare the skin of one of the participants in Sex Magic in order to raise the requisite power. Eioth reviewed the recipes and ran the ingredients through his memory. Some of the individual items were rare, and therefore, expensive. None of the listed items were poisonous on their own. He would have to check his references to see if there were any problems in combination.
None of this was beyond his means. It was only necessary that he be sufficiently interested in conducting an experiment.
Curious, Eioth flipped through the remaining appendices – there were fourteen in all. His page turner moved smoothly across the coarse paper. The unknown author of the Essayhad chosen paper unsuited to the quality of the script and illustrations. Eioth was particularly impressed by appendix seven – Ritual Specific Postures.
He stopped, pinning the page open with the page-turner and tilted his head to one side, the book to the other. The legend at the base of the page stated this was the position to use for summoning rain. Although Eioth knew several Elemental Rituals for rain – and long-standing spells brought rain in its proper time for his section of the demesne – he was gripped by a sudden urge to dismiss them all simply to have an excuse to bend a woman over in just that manner.
