“All of the enthusiasm of a child, and all of the manners as well,” he said. “A bit more training may be in order for that one.”
Myranda shut her eyes and stifled a tremor of anger. “Please, King Mellawin, I must again stress that Ivy has not been trained and is not a beast. If you expect our aid, I expect respect for each of our party.”
“Of course, of course,” King Mellawin said, little indication in his tone that he’d actually heard her words. “Silla, do begin.”
The lore keeper fetched a very ragged book bound in thick, leathery paper. She set it out on the table beside a smaller, newer book with fresh notes taken in it.
“I had some prepared speeches regarding the broader points, but I’d written them with the expectation of addressing all of the Chosen. You will forgive me if I reference Ether.”
“It is not a problem,” Myranda said. “I am sure Ether would be pleased to know she was included.”
“It worries me that she believed there was something so pressing that she could not join us.”
Myranda smiled. “It is a family matter. Please, proceed.”
Silla cleared her throat. “What we know of the North Crescent comes mostly from the records of the Workslag Clan, who migrated south more than four hundred years ago…”
#
On a side street in a bustling town deep in the Northern Alliance, an elderly woman pushed her way gratefully through the door of her modest home. It was little more than a single room over a bakery, but it was more than enough for her. The fires burning below took the edge from the cold even while she was away. Thus, the only thing she had to do to really make it livable was to stoke the small iron stove set against the stone wall. She tugged the door open with a poker and tossed in a small bundle of wood, then stirred the smoldering remains of the previous night’s fire beneath it until it took to flame. It had been a long day of doing laundry at the nearby inn, and all she really wanted was to sleep, but today was a special one. She’d promised she would treat herself to one or two of her few remaining luxuries.
She nudged the stout wooden window open and brushed some fresh clean snow into a kettle, then secured the drafty shutter and placed the kettle on the stove. While the snow melted—there were few things that tasted as fresh and clean to her as pristine snow—she rummaged through the cupboard and found a clay jar sealed with wax. A quick slice with a dull knife carved away the wax, and she lifted the lid to breathe the delightful aromatic scent of well-aged tea.
For a few tantalizing minutes, she sat and enjoyed the scent while she let the warmth ease into her old bones and tried not to doze off. She’d very nearly failed at that last part when a knock at the door startled her to full wakefulness again.
“Coming, coming!” she called, her heart fluttering a bit at the unexpected sound.
She set down the tea leaves and, with some difficulty, hauled herself from the chair. Out of habit she took a stout copper soup ladle in hand when she answered the door. At her age, she didn’t get many visitors, so she wasn’t inclined to assume the person at the door had her best interests in mind. She gripped the handle tightly, planted a still-soggy boot on the floor as a doorstop, and opened the door a sliver. A single glimpse of who awaited her was enough for her to throw the door wide and wrap her arms around her visitor.
“It is so wonderful to see you again, Em—I’m sorry. Guardian Ether,” the old woman proclaimed. “Come in, come in. Let me clear you someplace to sit…”
Her visitor stepped inside. She was a younger woman, her features elegant and beautiful, though her expression was cold and stern. She was a bit underdressed for the frigid northern weather, wearing little more than a light cloak over an exquisite tunic and leggings. Nevertheless, she didn’t seem chilled in the slightest. She set down the small bag she’d been carrying and pulled back her hood. A trained eye would detect a family resemblance between the two, though the truth was more complex. The visitor appeared to be a soldier of the Alliance Army called Emilia. In fact, she was a creature of divine origin, a shapeshifter who had merely taken the form of the fallen Emilia. That Ether’s travels had brought her and this woman together was perhaps evidence that the gods had a sense of humor, or at least a sense of pathos.
Ether gave the woman a measuring look as she moved folded linens from the only other place to sit in the whole of her home, the edge of the bed. “Are you well, Celia?” she asked. “You seem uneasy.”
“It was the knock at the door. That sort of thing still startles me. You’ll remember, until you introduced me to your dear friend Myranda, I’d not heard a thing for years. When one grows accustomed to the idea of never hearing anything for the rest of her days, it can take some time to get used to those everyday noises again.”
“I apologize. When Myranda restored your hearing, it was intended to be a gift to show my gratitude for your insight. I did not intend for it to cause you distress.”
“Oh, no. Heavens no. A little start here or there is nothing in light of hearing the crunch of snow beneath my boots. The crackle of fire. The murmur of half-heard conversations. You have no idea how lonely the world can be when you can’t hear.”
“Indeed I do not. Loneliness is something I had not considered until very recently…”
“Well, you needn’t worry about that anymore. My door is always open for you. Sit, sit. Do you drink tea?”
“I do not drink at all,” Ether explained.
“You really should try some. I know I’ve got another cup around here somewhere,” Celia said.
“That will not be necessary.”
“Oh hush. It’s wonderfully soothing. I am a host and you are my guest. I can’t have you sit there and watch me drinking tea. There is such a thing as hospitality. There, what did I say? A second cup. I knew I’d find it.”
She wiped it clean and set it on a small table between the bed and the chair, then eased herself down.
“Just a bit more for the tea to boil, and then we can brew up a nice cup for each of us. Until then, tell me, what has been filling your days?”
“I have been ruminating on my purpose in this world.”
“Ah. Still haven’t worked that out, have you? I hear there have been all sorts of wonderful talks going on down south. There have certainly been plenty of traders heading north and south, passing through the inn and plying their trade.” She leaned forward a bit. “After all these years of fighting them, I’m not so sure I trust the Tressons enough to not keep an eye on them when they pass through. But the ones I’ve met seem nice enough, and they’ve got some lovely blankets and such to sell.”
Ether nodded, looking a bit more as though she were enduring the conversation than actually listening. Celia continued regardless. She’d met Ether often enough to know that such was simply her way. The shapeshifter wasn’t much for social graces. Feigning interest or engaging in small talk was far beyond her expertise. That didn’t stop the older woman. That her guest wasn’t terribly interested didn’t change the fact that she still had a guest, and thus a rare opportunity to chat.
“Come to think of it, the queen passed through here on her way south. Doesn’t that normally mean you’d be headed south as well? Seems she doesn’t meet with the Tressons without the Guardians of the Realm by her side.”
“It was not a matter worthy of my attention. And one I suspect they would prefer I not discuss.”
“Of course, of course. The affairs of the throne aren’t for an old biddy’s ears.”
“Indeed.”
“What brings you here, then? Not that I’m not happy to have you.”
Ether straightened her posture, a flutter of uncertainty in her expression. “When you attended the reception at Five Point, in the course of conversation you indicated that this was the day of your birth. It is my understanding mortals celebrate the day of their creation.”
“It is my birthday. So nice of you to remember! Not to sound rude, but it doesn’t strike me as the sort of detail that would matter
to you.”
“It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest,” Ether said simply. “But I have observed that it is also a mortal tendency to celebrate matters that are of importance to others as a sign of respect. Such was the indication of Ivy when I spoke to her.”
“Ivy. She’s the malthrope.” Celia shook her head. “These are interesting times, Ether. Interesting times. Such a time to be alive.”
“Ivy also suggested it would be wise to present you with gifts. If they do not suit you, please inform me. I bring them based solely upon her recommendation, but I hesitate to trust her judgment completely.”
Ether handed the cloth sack to Celia. The elderly woman carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a small wooden presentation box that held a soft, finely woven scarf. Beside it was a smaller sack filled with sweet buns.
“Oh…” Celia cooed, unfurling the scarf. “It’s almost too fine to wear. And these. They smell wonderful. You’ll have one with your tea, of course.”
“I neither eat nor drink,” Ether said, her perpetual tone of irritation just a bit sharper.
“I certainly won’t eat them all myself.” Celia wrapped her scarf about her neck, then transferred the hot water from kettle to pot and dispensed some leaves to steep. “There. Won’t be a minute more. Plenty of time for you to tell me why you’ve really come here.”
“I have said, I come celebrating your birthday.”
“That would be a fine reason for anyone else to visit, but you? How do I put it? Bah. Heaven knows you are direct enough, Ether. No sense tiptoeing around it. You aren’t the sentimental type. And though they may not be yours from birth, you still have my child’s eyes, and I know a troubled look in them when I see it. I’ve had a long day, Ether. My bed is calling. Much as I love a visit, if you beat around the bush for too long, I am liable to doze off before you get what you came for.”
Ether simmered with irritation for a moment. “I am uncertain.”
“You don’t know what you came here for?” Celia poured out two cups of tea. “That’s just youth. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Youth?” Ether scoffed, taking the tea. “My years are uncountable. I walked this world when it was new.”
“Then you really don’t have an excuse,” Celia said with a smirk.
Ether scowled. “I seem to recall you being much more deferential to my status in our prior encounters.”
“You come to me with the problems and words of a child. You leave me with nothing to offer but the wisdom of a mother. Forgive an old woman at the end of a long day, but I know no other way to respond.” She took a luxuriant whiff of the tea. “Drink, before it gets cold.”
Ether, now weary of explaining the nature of her being, put the cup to her lips and sipped at the warm contents. She paused.
“Lovely, isn’t it?”
“I had not anticipated the complexity of the flavor.”
“I imagine there is a lot about the world you had not anticipated.” Celia handed Ether one of the buns. The shapeshifter took it but did not partake. “But let us see now. You do not know what to make of your place in the world. I am afraid I cannot be of much help to you. My place was always clear, and it filled my life from one end to the other.”
“Has your life fulfilled you?”
“Very much so.”
“And what has been most fulfilling?”
“Family.”
Ether looked aside in irritation. “So I have been told. That this yawning emptiness within me is the place where family is to reside. And so I have been told that those closest to you, those most important to you, take the place of family when you have no family of your own.”
“Wise words.”
“Wise for mortals, perhaps, but useless for me. Even those creatures with whom I have the most in common test the very limits of my patience. I was not created to cope with the petty details of a mortal life.”
“Perhaps not, Ether, but if you think there is something special in being driven to wits end by your family, you understand even less about mortals than you realize.”
“What are you implying?”
“Loving someone and liking them are very different things. You’ll never hear a bigger row than a large family at a holiday meal.”
“That is absurd. What good is a family if their mere presence infuriates you?”
“Sometimes your family will be there when you don’t want them. But they will always be there when you need them. They’re something solid and real in a world were very little can be relied upon.”
Ether narrowed her eyes and sipped the tea. “Then clearly family is not what is missing. I have as near to a family as I will ever have, and still I feel empty and adrift.”
“There are those we seek to—”
The shapeshifter raised a hand. “Do not. You will speak to me of finding a mate, of having a child. I have attempted to acquire a mate for just such a purpose. None have been receptive.”
“You may not be going about it in the proper way.”
“I have attempted it in the most direct and intelligent a manner. Is this yet another aspect of this ridiculous society that resolves into a pathetic dance and game, always playing at meaning without stating it?”
“Indeed it is, as all the best things in life are.”
“I refuse to lower myself to such a level.”
“That is your choice.”
Celia munched on her own bun for a few moments. Ether became visibly impatient.
“Have we reached the end of your insight?” Ether asked.
“Have some of your bun, Guardian Ether.”
Ether glared at Celia for a moment but grudgingly took a bite.
“Well?” Celia asked.
“It too has an unexpectedly pleasant flavor. Have I engaged in enough pointless rituals to receive your advice, or has this all been for nothing?”
“You want me to solve your problems for you, but I say you haven’t got a problem.”
“I have told you my troubles. You now say they don’t exist?”
“Guardian Ether, your years are ‘uncountable,’ yet you’ve only today had your first sip of tea and your first sweet bun. You have your strength, and you have peerless powers, and you have the whole world to experience. That isn’t a problem, that is a gift. A mortal would give anything to be where you are today. If you want to know where you belong, what you should be doing, I say stop thinking about it and start looking for it. You and the other Chosen have saved this world. Now would be a fine time to see what sort of a place it is you’ve saved. And who knows? Maybe in sampling the virtues of the land and its people, you’ll find a role you’ll be happy to fill.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you can at least come and tell me what you’ve seen. I haven’t got many years left, and I haven’t seen half of what I would like to. To hear it from you might be nice.”
“You believe that somehow aimlessly wandering the land and passively absorbing what I find will somehow make me whole again?”
“Heavens no. I believe purposefully exploring and actively participating in what you find will make you whole for the first time. Ask questions, try foods, listen to music, look at the landscape. Live, Guardian Ether. You’ve earned it.” She finished her bun, then held out the sack. “Another?”
“No.”
“More for me.” She finished her tea and yawned. “I do hope I’ve been a help, and I look forward to the tales and mementos of your travels, but my pillow has waited long enough. If I don’t close my eyes for a bit, I’ll be of no use to anyone tomorrow.”
“Where do you recommend I begin this pointless journey?”
“Someplace far away. Someplace people around here would never dream they’d see.”
“The others are at this moment traveling to Sonril.”
“To where now?”
“An elven kingdom on South Crescent.”
“Heaven’s, Ether. What are you standing around here for? Go join them!”
/> “As you wish.” Ether stood. “Rest well, Celia. I do not have high hopes for your advice, but as all other tasks at hand are equally pointless, I shall heed your words.”
“Good, Guardian. Enjoy. And don’t forget to come and tell me what you’ve seen and done.”
Ether gave a stiff nod and took her leave. When Celia shut the door behind her, she shook her head.
“All the worst parts of a child and all the worst parts of an elder. I hope she can find the missing pieces. Really, something of a trick for a hero to have so little to redeem her.” She stroked the scarf she’d been given. “But there’s hope for her yet…”
Chapter 3
Time passed slowly as the ship made its way west. The elves had not been exaggerating when they’d indicated their knowledge of North Crescent was limited. The broad strokes of their information filled barely the first day. Another day or two of gathered hearsay and speculation brought Myranda and Deacon to the same level of knowledge as their hosts.
Myranda stood at the railing of the main deck and gazed over a sea that seemed to spread endlessly in all directions. She’d carefully braided her hair and tucked it into her hood, lest the wind play havoc with it. Deacon emerged from a nearby doorway and stood beside her.
“Ah, Myranda. There you are,” he said. “Silla was curious where you’d gone. It seems our hosts expected us to stay in our rooms for the bulk of the trip. That is evidently their plan. I get the distinct impression they aren’t terribly fond of the open sea.”
“I can’t say I’m overly fond of it either,” Myranda said, clutching her stomach lightly. “The tossing sea has turned my stomach terribly. Particularly in the mornings.”
“Seasick?” he said.
“I suppose.”
He shuffled through his satchel. “I am certain I can find a spell of some sort to give you some relief…”
“No, no. The fresh air helps.” She glanced about, ensuring there were no members of the crew near enough to overhear. “Tell me, does it strike you as strange that in all of this time it was not until very recently that the people of Sonril decided to break ground on villages in North Crescent.”
The Crescents Page 7
