There was a beauty to it, and Bethany could feel the magic moving through the room in the most complex way she’d ever seen. She would have been nearly hypnotized by it, except for what else was happening inside.
The armlet floated in midair in what must be the exact center of the giant room. Its song moved throughout the chamber, and fire seemed to be floating around it, revolving slowly as it sang. The armlet was spinning, too, but in the opposite direction as the fire. It cast flickering shadows on the walls and floor, and it was beautiful to look at.
Underneath it and just outside the ring of singing metal posts sat an old man in a rickety old wooden chair. His hair was long and silver and he had the longest beard that Bethany had ever seen. He was smiling, and his expression reminded him of her new grandfather, Saul. He was wearing a simple but comfortable looking robe, and was beckoning her over. She could feel magic coming off of him strongly, but not as strong as her own magic felt, sometimes. His Kai seemed more refined, somehow, like it knew the world around it in a way that other things just couldn’t. He gave Bethany a peaceful feeling, and she found herself wanting to run up and jump in the old man’s lap, then play with his beard.
But she was a wizard, now. Wizards had to be serious.
Beside the old man was a low narrow table with a few leather-bound books sitting atop it, some of them stacked and closed neatly, but a few open and sitting so that he could read them. There was an empty chair beside him, and Lacelle led her to it, pulling it out so Bethany could sit. Bethany smiled at the woman and climbed up into the chair, her legs sticking out over the end and kicking back and forth, as was her habit.
“Hello, Bethany,” the old man said, leaning toward her as if they were sharing a secret, “my name is Arian. Do you know who I am?”
Bethany shook her head. The old man smiled in acceptance and patted her gently on the shoulder.
“Well, that is fine, indeed. Lacelle,” he said, turning back to the pretty woman in the white dress, “Will you go and look into the girl’s claims of pursuit? I think I can handle things, here.”
“Of course, Wise One,” Lacelle replied, bowing her head. She turned and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. The old man sighed as the woman departed, and then turned back to Bethany.
“You may call me by my name, child. It will be nice to hear it pass someone’s lips. It has been a long time since many have uttered my name. Tell me, do you know what this is?” He indicated the armlet; its singing had calmed a little since she’d entered.
“I think its name is fiega,” Bethany replied, looking to the artifact as it floated in the air, “But I’m not sure. It only tells me things with dreams and feelings.”
“An accurate description and a fitting name, indeed. Where, if you don’t mind telling me, did you hear that name? And do you know what the word fiega means?”
Bethany nodded, excited to have an answer, “It means ‘fire’. And I dreamed of it.”
“Ah,” the old man nodded, looking to the armlet again. The fire reflected from his eyes, giving them a twinkling quality, “Very astute, child. You can hear it singing, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind telling me what it says to you?”
“Well,” Bethany pursed her lips and looked to the side, thinking. “It doesn’t really say things. Sometimes it sends me pictures, in my mind or my magic, and I can sort of feel what they mean, but it doesn’t talk to me like a person.”
“I see. What can you tell me about those feelings, little one?”
“Sometimes they’re nice, like it’s trying to tell me that it’s lonely. I don’t know how I know, but it has been alone for a very long time. It usually just wants company, I think. But sometimes, it shows me things, like pictures.”
“What kind of pictures, dear?”
“Well, once there was a man. He was crying, and I think he was praying, but I couldn’t understand him, like he was speaking a different language. Sometimes I dream that we’re flying around in darkness, but there are things in the dark – pretty things made of colored light, and stars, too. It’s happy in those dreams. But sometimes it shows me other things…scary things.”
“You can tell me, child,” Arian said, squeezing her shoulder as Bethany hesitated and smiling at her encouragingly, “I won’t tell anyone else.”
Bethany sighed, and looked up at the armlet before she continued.
“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “it shows me people burning. Men, all dressed up in armor, and the fiega is burning them. I don’t think it knows that it’s hurting people, but it does anyway. Sometimes it wants me to put it on, and let it burn things. I think it likes to do it, but it scares me.”
“It is alright to be afraid, young one,” Arian said, “Fear is a healthy emotion, you see. It keeps you alive. You are right to fear the armlet, child, but I don’t think that it means to hurt people, either. You see, I can hear it singing, too.”
Bethany leaned forward, her expression excited, “You can? I always hear it, at least when it wakes up, but Dormael and D’Jenn don’t like me to listen to it, and I know that Dormael can hear it, too, but he doesn’t like to talk about it with me.”
Arian laughed a little at her excitement, and leaned closer to her, “Oh yes, it sings to me. Not as much as it does to you, I think. It seems to…I don’t know. It sounds so ridiculous, child, but it seems to like you very much. Tell me, do you remember when you started having these dreams?”
Bethany thought back, as far as she could. She remembered having them after she’d met Dormael and D’Jenn and Shawna, but as she thought about it, she’d had them before, too. She couldn’t remember much of her life, and she didn’t like to think about it. There was something painful there, and she didn’t want to remember. As her mind reached back, she started to feel a panicky sensation, and she stopped herself before she awakened her fear again.
“I think I’ve had them for a long time,” was all she said.
“Well, then,” Arian said, turning to the table and picking a heavy book up from the surface, pulling it over and sitting it in his lap, “Would you like to hear a story? I’m not sure, yet, but I think I’ve found something in this book about the armlet. Why don’t you let me read it to you, and you tell me if anything you hear rings a bell. Does that sound alright?”
Bethany nodded. Arian smiled at her and cleared his throat, and then he began to read.
“‘The dreams continue to plague me, awakening me from my slumber night after night. Everything around me burning, the strange visions of the Void, and the praying man – they all keep me awake, pondering their meanings. Sometimes, it’s as if I can hear a strange noise in the air, though it sounds like no music I’ve heard, and no one else seems to hear it. The others have begun to shoot strange looks at my back when I depart a room, or to question my every edict with obvious disdain. I’ve heard the rumors, and I’ve begun to wonder, myself.
“‘Am I going mad? I am no longer so certain of my own sanity. I fear I shall soon lose my seat, and perhaps it is for the best. Abdication in the face of madness could not be considered folly.’” Arian finished the passage and looked over at Bethany. “Does any of this sound familiar, dear?”
Bethany nodded, “Some of it sounds like my dreams. I didn’t understand some of that, but the dreams sound the same.”
“Indeed, I thought that it might be true,” Arian stroked his beard thoughtfully and gazed up at the armlet, which was still spinning slowly and singing softly into the air, “This passage is an excerpt from the personal writings of a man named Baristael. He was Kansil of the Soirus-Gamerit tribe in the year 372, before the Duadan Treaty was struck between the East and the West. Do you know much history, Bethany?”
“No,” she admitted, feeling a little embarrassed about it, “But I can read a little, and speak the Hunter’s Tongue.”
“Well,” Arian said, smiling down at her once again, “I will have to speak with your adoptive father on the matte
r. Let me explain it to you, then.
“Long ago, there was a Great War between the Sevenlands and certain countries of Alderak. I believe, if I’m not mistaken, that it ended around the year 190 or 191. Little is known about that time, because written records have a way of disappearing through the years for different reasons. Now, after this war, which was called the First Great War, there was a period of time during which there was barely any contact between our two continents. You can still see the effects of it today. The East and West have ever been at odds over one thing or another, and it all stemmed from the First Great War, and this period of silence. There are many prejudices, on both sides.
“It wasn’t until years later, in the year 220, that trade began between the East and West again, and not until another eighty years had passed, in 300, that a concrete agreement was struck between the Sevenlands and a country in the East. This was the year that the city Tauravon was built, in Lesmira. You have heard of it, I hope?”
“Some,” Bethany nodded, wanting Arian to continue. She was entranced by the story, now.
“Good dear, very good. Well, the Duadan Treaty was an agreement struck between the King of Lesmira and the Council of Seven, here in Ishamael. It happened in the year 501, and the basic tenet was that every Lesmiran King would take a Duadan ‘princess’ as a wife, preferably the daughter of the Duadan Kansil.”
“Why would he do that? I don’t understand,” Bethany said.
Arian laughed lightly, and patted the girl on the shoulder again, “You will, when you get older, my dear. I will try and explain it to you, anyway. You see, the Treaty was designed to strengthen ties between our two nations. If the King of Lesmira takes a Duadan to wife, then their children would be half Sevenlander by blood. The ties of family helped to ensure that our two nations remained at peace. This was especially important, because the Conclave is not the only school of magic in the world, dear. There is also a school in Lesmira.”
“I think I understand, now,” Bethany said, and she did, but she wanted him to continue.
“Good. You are a very smart girl, Bethany.”
She beamed at him.
“Now, this Treaty stayed in place for years afterward, and only ended after the Atonement Period, after the Second Great War, in 895. But before that, in the year 523, two more countries also entered into the Treaty: Shundovia, who’s King took a Runemian daughter to wife, and Cambrell, who’s King wedded a Soirus-Gamerit. Do you see the significance of this?”
Bethany bit her lip and tried to think. She thought she might have an answer just on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come. She looked up at Arian and shrugged.
“That’s alright, dear. Baristael, the man who wrote this diary, was the Kansil of the Soirus-Gamerit tribe. That means that the daughter of the Gamerit Kansil that wedded the Cambrellian King so many years later, was descended from Baristael. Do you know why this is important?”
“Because Shawna is from Cambrell?”
“Yes! Very good, dear, very good, indeed,” Arian exclaimed. Bethany was ecstatic that she’d finally answered something correctly. “Shawna is a Cambrellian noble, and according to Dormael and D’Jenn’s reports, she is a cousin to the King himself. This means that somewhere along her bloodline, she’s also descended from Baristael – and Baristael, it appears, was having the same dreams that you are.”
Bethany stared up at the armlet, amazed at what Arian was telling her. She wished that Baristael wasn’t dead, so that they could talk about the dreams. Maybe Bethany could have made him feel better about them.
“So,” she said, “Baristael had the fiega.”
“I believe so, child. It does seem to be the best explanation, does it not?”
“But why was Baristael having the dreams, and Shawna isn’t?”
“A very astute question, child, you really are quite the smart one. I believe, and so does your adoptive father, that the armlet only sings to those who can feel magic. There are some people, Bethany, who will never be able to use enough magic to light a candle, but they can feel magic sometimes.”
“Dormael said they were called the Learned,” Bethany said, smiling and trying to show that she knew something about the subject.
“Well,” Arian hedged, “that isn’t exactly the same thing. The Learned are people who learn to use magic through discipline and training. It can be done, with enough dedication. What I think is that Baristael had the spark. He was Blessed, but only very slightly. He could feel magic, but was not gifted strongly enough to use it. He probably never even realized it. Many do not.”
“So that’s why Shawna doesn’t have the dreams, and can’t talk to fiega. She doesn’t have magic,” Bethany said.
“Well, that’s close enough to the truth, I suppose.”
Bethany mulled over what Arian had told her, and tried to think of what could be so important about that. “So,” she mused aloud, “That means that the fiega came from Soirus-Gamerit?”
“Not necessarily, but it does mean that it was here at one time, and was in the possession of the Kansil. That’s quite significant, especially since in Baristael’s writings, he never mentions the armlet itself, nor does he find out what was causing his dreams. It’s possible that he had it the entire time, tucked away somewhere, and never even realized what it was. It also means that the armlet had to have left the Sevenlands in the possession of one of the daughters of Gamerit that were wedded to the Cambrellian Kings. It means that we have a trail.”
“But how could it stay so long, and never sing to anyone so that it could be found?”
“That, my dear, is one of the questions I am currently thinking on right now. I have scribes searching the public archives here for the writings of other Gamerit Kansils, to see if we can dig up any more evidence that might mention the armlet, and where it may have come from. I wish that I had access to the Cambrell libraries at Arla, but asking for them would only raise suspicion, and I think we should keep this little secret between you and me, for now,” Arian winked at her.
“Alright,” Bethany said, “So does that mean I have to lie to Dormael and D’Jenn?”
Arian laughed a little at her comment, then squeezed her shoulder again, “No, dear, not exactly. You just let me tell them first, alright?” Bethany nodded, and Arian turned back to studying the armlet. He watched it for a moment as it turned in the air, a perplexed expression on his face, and finally sighed as his eyes seemed to take on a far-away expression.
“We will have company, shortly. Your father has come to gather you up, it seems.”
****
“Is she alright?” Dormael asked Lacelle, more than a little desperately.
“She’s quite well, Dormael. She wandered down to the Convergence Chamber while the Mekai and I were studying the armlet. He’s with her now,” Lacelle assured him as the group strode purposefully toward the stairwell.
“The Convergence Chamber?” Victus asked, “Did the armlet call her there?”
“It has done things like that before,” Dormael answered, “It could have been her original reason for coming down here, but we won’t know until I speak with her.” Dormael placed a slight emphasis on ‘I’, but if anyone noticed it, no one mentioned it.
“The youngling claims that someone was chasing her,” Lacelle mentioned, “I was on my way up to investigate when I met the three of you in the halls.”
“I knew it!” Dormael said, smacking a fist into his palm, “I told you, Deacon, it was the only explanation.” Victus only grumbled something unintelligible in reply, and Dormael suspected the Deacon didn’t want to argue with him anymore on the subject. They’d been having words about it since they’d left the charred body on the upper levels. Dormael hadn’t been disrespectful, but his emotions had been tight with worry, and he and Victus had been on the verge of another argument since the search for Bethany had begun.
“What are you talking about?” Lacelle asked, “Are the girl’s claims true, then?”
Victus sighed,
“We found a body on one of the levels above. It had been burned with magic, Lacelle. Dormael says it was the girl’s magic that committed the act. All we know for sure is that there was a confrontation, and the only person who truly knows what happened is the young girl.”
“Are you saying that she’s lying?” Dormael asked, a dangerous tone rising into his voice.
Victus held his hands up, shaking his head, “All I’m saying is that it could have been a misunderstanding, Dormael. Evmir’s Hammer, put your claws away, boy, before you say something that you’ll regret.” The two looked into each other’s eyes for a dangerous second, but Dormael finally took a deep breath and pushed his worry aside.
“Forgive me. I’m only worried about Bethany,” Dormael said. Shawna came up beside him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“A body,” Lacelle sighed, shaking her head, “This is dreadful news, no matter what the circumstances were.”
“Indeed,” Victus agreed.
The mood grew somber and everyone grew silent as they stepped foot into the hallway surrounding the Convergence Chamber. This room had been one of the first things created when the Conclave had been built. It was a place designed to gather and focus magical energies. Many said that Indalvian himself had designed the room during the construction of the Conclave Proper, but had never gotten to use it because he’d died before its completion. Every level of the underground tunnels of the Conclave proper was a part of the design. The swirling lines and glyphs that were laid into the walls and floors of the hallways above were a part of the focus, the outer fringes of the largest known magic Circle in the entire world.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 68
