“My dear Shawna,” D’Jenn explained calmly, “a spy is someone employed by their government whose sole mission it is to seek out secret information and pass that to his or her respective governments. Warlocks, that is to say Dormael and I, do none of this.
“We act on things. We are given a clear and concise mission, and we are expected either to act alone or with one other person to accomplish it. We do not seek out information about rival countries nor do we stay in one place. For example, let me tell you about one of my missions.” Shawna nodded to him, beginning to understand, and D’Jenn continued his story.
“A couple of years ago the Thardish Prince, Mygan, had a charm made that would dazzle the minds of those around him, allowing him to plant suggestions in their thoughts. The wizard that made the thing did not realize his folly until after he had made it and given it to the Prince. He was a Lesmiran, so he sent to the Conclave for help on the matter.
“The problem was, the wizard that made it is an amazing Infuser; he still works at the Mage Tower. The charm worked, and it worked very well. The Prince began to gain control of his father, the King, and put in place policies that not only threatened Thardin itself, but also served selfish and stupid ends. The Prince, though cruel, was not a very smart man.
“An even larger problem was that the charm was an abomination. It was the first thing of its kind created, and it was an evil object. Its potential for damage was very great, and the Conclave could not allow it to exist, especially in the hands of the selfish Thardish Prince. So, they sent in a Warlock to retrieve and destroy it: me.”
“I see,” Shawna relented, “so what did you do?”
“Well, I knew I couldn’t just walk in there and demand it; Thardin and the Sevenlands have strained relations, and while I don’t think I would have been hurt or openly threatened, I could not reveal what I was after and what the Conclave was after. It could have started a war.
“So, I waited for nightfall, and scaled the walls of the Keep. That, my dear, is no mean feat, let me tell you. The Keep at Thardin is a marvel of man-made structure; incredibly high walls and smooth stonework to boot. Of course, I used magic to do it, and once inside I found Mygan’s bedchamber and took the charm from his sleeping body. I also used my talents to make sure that Mygan was deep in slumber until I was hours gone from the Keep. You know, I still laugh to wonder what Mygan may have been dreaming about that night. I escaped, and left the grounds of the Keep with nary a guard the wiser, and immediately left Thardin.
“I fled to Lesmira, and returned the charm to the maker. The Infuser is usually the best one to destroy a magical object of his making, so I made sure he destroyed it and I went to Neleka, where Dormael was working on something, just in time for the Summer Solstice. Of course, that was years ago when Neleka was still its own country, before the Galanians invaded and annexed it as part of the Empire.”
“What were you doing in Neleka?” Shawna asked, turning in the saddle to look at Dormael.
“Oddly enough, I was looking into troop placements along the border by the Galanians. The Mekai had heard the rumors that Galania was squaring up to invade Neleka, and wanted to know what the situation was. When I saw the armies positioned along the hills that bordered the two countries, I tried to warn the Nelekans about it, but they refused to act or just ignored my warnings. The Nelekan King was a very foolish man.”
“So, why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t the Conclave act? This whole trip, my family…everything could have been saved if you had done something to stop them!” Shawna accused hotly. Dormael was taken aback by her outburst, but he understood where it came from and held up his hands to explain.
“Shawna,” he soothed, “we had done all we could. It is not our place to interfere with the workings and wars of eastern countries. What would you have had us do, destroy Dargorin’s armies with magic? If we had done that, things may have been different today, but I sort of doubt it. Dargorin is ambitious; he would have found another way to conquer. Think about this: we would have made a victim out of Dargorin and the Galanians. Today, folk would be telling the story of how the evil Sevenlander savages destroyed the Galanians for absolutely no reason. He could deny his impending invasion of Neleka, and people would have believed him because we would have been the villains. So perhaps things would be different, but not for the better.
“If the Nelekans would have asked the Sevenlands for help, I’m sure it would have been given. However, they did not ask. You can’t just send a couple of armies and half the Conclave to help someone who doesn’t want it. I did try to warn them, and they scorned me for it. They had me bodily thrown from the great hall in their castle. They made their bed, and now they are lying in it. Prejudice and ignorance were the downfalls of Neleka even more than Dargorin was, and it certainly wasn’t by any lack of trying on my part.”
Spitting the last comment out calmly, but coldly, Dormael spurred Horse into a canter and rode ahead a bit to be alone. The fool girl didn’t understand anything beyond her own calamity. She wasn’t the only one who had suffered at the hands of the Galanian Empire.
****
Shawna looked to D’Jenn, an abashed expression on her face, and said “I didn’t mean to make him angry. I just felt…I don’t know…frustrated.”
“Dormael…had a friend in Neleka; a woman who had been born a wizard and lived in the hills north of the old city of Fal-Nelek. She never went to the Mage Tower, deciding instead to stay in hiding out in the hills and practice her art there. She, like Dormael, was very fond of taking the form of animals. I’m not sure how they met, but Dormael spent a lot of his time there with her.
“I’m not going to tell you that he was in love with her; I’m not sure that Dormael has ever been in love, or even could be in love,” D’Jenn joked solemnly, “but I know that she was very important to him. I know that before the invasion, he tried to get her out of the country, but she refused to leave. It was her home, you see, and she loved it. She wouldn’t leave it to the Galanians.
“I had to leave shortly thereafter, and I’m not sure what happened after that. I know that she died, or at least, I think she did. I do know that Dormael went back for her, and afterwards he disappeared for an entire year. When he returned, he would not speak of her, and he surely would not have me speak of her. I was worried, you see, it is very unlike my cousin to just leave in this way and stay out of contact, especially with me. For that entire year, I thought that he was dead. I wouldn’t mention it to him if I was you, but I wanted you to understand that Dormael has lost a great deal to the Galanians as well. Don’t let him know that I told you that.”
“What was her name?” Shawna asked quietly.
“Inera,” D’Jenn replied solemnly, and turned his eyes back to the road ahead and clopped along in reticence. Shawna nodded and stared at Dormael’s back, rocking with the steps of his mount ahead of them, out of earshot. She sighed and rode beside D’Jenn, watching the road in silence.
****
The companions rode along for a few more hours in that fashion, with Dormael links ahead of them in a brooding silence, and Shawna and D’Jenn trailing behind respectively. After a time, while the noonday sun was shining its brilliance down through the golden-and-brown-spotted forest road, Dormael let them catch up to him and Bethany, who was idly playing with the long reddish brown mane that grew down Horse’s neck. Shawna glanced over at him sheepishly, and after a few minutes spoke.
“I wasn’t intending to make you angry, Dormael, I just didn’t understand, that’s all. I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“The fault is mine, dear girl. I let my emotions run away. I apologize as well,” Dormael replied, and the two nodded at each other in mutual respect. Shawna ran a finger through her dyed black locks, putting her hair behind her ears and sighed deeply.
“How far of a ride is Borders from Ferolan?” she inquired idly.
“A week, maybe longer,” D’Jenn answered, “There was, however, a small village a
few miles up the road from here. I passed it on my way through to Ferolan. I can’t remember the name, but I expect that we should be there day after tomorrow.”
“Do you know what day tomorrow is, Bethany?” Dormael asked amiably.
“No,” the little girl answered, giving Dormael a suspicious eye. It was the first word the girl had spoken since the night of their escape from the castle, and everyone was a little surprised and pleased that she had spoken. Dormael had honestly not expected her to answer him.
“Tomorrow, my dear,” he began theatrically, “is Winter’s Eve. The Festival of Frost begins the day after, and if we make it to this village in time, we can join the celebration.” The small girl smiled in reply and couldn’t seem to hold in her next words.
“Will there be singing? And presents?” Bethany asked excitedly, and the three adults all burst out in pleased laughter. It was refreshing to see the innocent excitement of the child amidst all of the turmoil they had experienced lately. Dormael ruffled the crown of the girl’s braided hair.
“Well, I’m definitely sure there will be singing. In fact, if you like singing so much, I can sing you a song later. I’ll tell you what, today I’m going to teach you letters, and if you do well then there will definitely be presents. And, if you want, we can look for mistletoe tomorrow night,” he replied, beaming down at the youngling.
Bethany clapped her hands together laughing, and almost began to bounce up and down on the small portion of Horse’s saddle she occupied, before Dormael stopped her. He didn’t want her falling off of the chestnut stallion, or spooking the horse, which wasn’t yet used to Dormael. Then, her merriment dying slowly, she asked him what letters were.
“You’ll learn, dear, you’ll learn,” was all he replied and the three kept riding on. The day passed uneventfully, with the companions cantering and then slowing to a walk to rest the horses. Periodically they would dismount and lead the horses to keep them fresh, in case they had to ride hard at a moment’s notice. As the sun waned in the sky and the air grew cooler, they began to look for a place to make camp for the night. With twilight turning the sky a pinkish color fading to the deep blue of night, they found a cozy spot some small distance from the road next to a gurgling creek.
“I’m going to do a bit of scouting,” D’Jenn declared as they dismounted and began unpacking the necessary supplies, “if it’s possible, I would like to have a fire tonight.”
“Indeed,” Dormael replied, and D’Jenn’s eyes took on the glossy look of Mind Flight. He was gone around ten minutes or so, and during that time Dormael and Shawna set up the camp, undoing the bedrolls and hobbling, feeding, and brushing the five horses they had. Dormael explained to Bethany a few of the things he was doing, teaching her small tasks that he felt she should know. After his Mind Flight, D’Jenn’s eyes took on his usual piercing gaze, and he declared that all was clear. Dormael gathered some firewood with magic and even some large dead logs for the party to sit upon. All in all, it was a cozy setting.
D’Jenn rooted around in his pack and brought out a steel pot while Dormael built a small wall of rocks around the fire pit he and Shawna had dug from the ground. Bethany watched in interest, nodding as Dormael explained what he was doing as he built a spit over the fire. D’Jenn went to the creek to gather some water as Dormael began to pull some dried vegetables from the packhorses.
“I didn’t know Alton had provided those,” Shawna said, watching Dormael and D’Jenn prepare supper.
“He didn’t, D’Jenn and I bought them the day we went to the castle,” Dormael explained, “There are a few things that are more of a luxury on the road, and this is one of them. We’re about to make for you two a Dormael and D’Jenn special, we like to call it Traveler’s Stew.”
“It doesn’t sound very appetizing,” Shawna replied doubtfully.
“It’s delicious,” Dormael defended, finding a few carrots and onions, and then reaching deep into his bag he pulled out a two small phials. One contained a dark brown powder, the other a deep red. Shawna eyed him cautiously.
“Just our special ingredients,” Dormael shrugged, as D’Jenn returned to the camp with a full pot of water. He took the curved handle of the pot and slid the spit through it, then hung the spitted pot on the supports that Dormael had made.
“Normally, we would boil the water to purify it, but…,” D’Jenn shrugged and gestured slightly, and the pot rung as if struck with a stick and swung on the spit as a puff of steam went up from it, “I’m hungry.”
Dormael winked at Bethany and as he did a bright orange fire sprang up in the shallow pit, crackling warmly and bathing all of them in a soft, flickering light. Then he tossed the vegetables straight into the air, and they quickly divided themselves into smaller and smaller pieces as they floated obediently into the soup. D’Jenn did the same with a handful of the dried meat rations Alton had given them. Bethany laughed and clapped her hands, but Shawna just rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Next, Dormael sprinkled a generous portion of the brown spice into the stew, but only just a touch of the red. Shawna asked no questions of him as both of the wizards sat down on the logs that had been pulled up, and the four of them watched the fire and the stew in silence for a while as Dormael periodically stirred the concoction. After a few minutes, an enticing and spicy smell began to waft out of the pot along with a generous amount of steam, and it wasn’t long until Dormael declared it ready and D’Jenn handed out cups.
Dormael watched Shawna as she sipped her first bit of stew and a surprised and pleased look dawned on her pretty face. Taking another sip, she began to consume the stew in earnest until it was finished, then she dipped her cup into the pot once more. D’Jenn and Dormael both had two cups of the stew and soon it was gone. Dormael cleaned up after them, and once everything was put away he plopped back down on the log and stared contentedly into the fire with his companions.
“I must say,” Shawna sighed, “That was pretty good, after all.” Dormael and D’Jenn laughed a bit and D’Jenn pulled a bottle of Cambrellian wine from his pack and unstopped the cork. Taking a long pull, he began to pass the bottle around to Dormael and Shawna. Both took long, satisfying drinks of the wine and the bottle made its way around three more times before D’Jenn corked it and returned it to his pack.
“Alright, Bethany,” Dormael announced, and suddenly a large letter B blossomed from the fire, “this is the letter ‘B’.”
****
Shawna sat on the other side of the fire with D’Jenn, watching Dormael teach Bethany to spell her name. Flaming letters were blossoming one by one from the fire as Bethany sounded them out. The young girl was having a grand time, at least it appeared so.
“What’s her story, do you think?” Shawna asked D’Jenn, who was sitting now on the cold earth with his back against the log. Shawna lowered herself down next to the wizard so she could better talk to him, and noticed that he was puffing contentedly on a long stemmed pipe that was carved in the semblance of a dragon. With every slow inhale of the smoke, the dragon’s eyes would alight with the burning of the tobacco inside. D’Jenn took two long pulls of smoke before he answered her, pulling the pipe from his teeth slowly.
“Orphaned at a young age,” D’Jenn began speculatively, “and some orphanages are little better than the streets most younglings end up on. I can’t really speculate on her heritage, though I tell you this: she’s not of Cambrellian blood.”
“You don’t think so?” Shawna asked, a little surprised at his comment.
“I know that she isn’t,” D’Jenn replied confidently, “and I’m not sure that she’s of simple blood either. Look at her face, Shawna. She has high cheekbones like a Nelekan, but no Nelekan I’ve ever seen has her coloring. Her skin is paler than a Cambrellian’s, but not as pale as a Sevenlander…that may mark her as a Dannon. But, look at her eyes, Shawna. Her eyes change hue sometimes, from her normal hazel to dark brown, from a leaden gray to a fierce blue. Tell me which land that trait comes from, and yo
u’ll make me a smarter man.”
Shawna peered at the young girl more closely, trying to get a glimpse of what D’Jenn was talking about. She was laughing at some joke that Dormael had made to her, the charming wizard cheering her on a little as she called out the letters that he made rise from the fire. Now that she had noticed, Shawna realized that Bethany didn’t look Cambrellian at all. Though she couldn’t see the color of the girl’s eyes because of the firelight, she did notice her skin and the highness of her cheekbones.
“I…had never noticed that before,” Shawna said, peering across the fire at Bethany, “but now that you mention it...,” Shawna ended the comment with a shrug.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever find out where she came from,” D’Jenn continued, taking another pull from his pipe, “and in the grand scheme of things I guess it doesn’t really matter. Dormael has taken a liking to the girl, and I feel a strange kinship with her as well. I can’t place it, but there’s just something about her. Well, let me see your arrow wound.”
“What?” Shawna asked, taken aback by D’Jenn’s sudden request.
“I said, let me see your arrow wound. It still hurts you, does it not?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Well then let me see it, girl, I may be able to help you a bit,” he replied. Shawna looked at him for a moment and then rolled up the lower portion of her woolen tunic and bared her injured side.
The wound was just above her left hip and under her ribs. There were two-day-old bandages wrapped around her slender belly to cover the wound while it healed. The night air was cold on her bared skin, and she jumped a little when D’Jenn laid his warm hand over the wound.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 17
