“You only have to host it, auntie,” Dayn said, “and provide meat for the Chieftains and refreshments for the dance. The rest of the families will add their share to the tables. It would be rude of them to do otherwise.”
The women turned to face him. From the looks on their faces, they had not expected an etiquette lesson, at least not from him.
“Alicine told me,” Dayn said defensively. “I thought I’d better know the finer details, since I’ll be looking after Eyan.”
“What do ye mean, lookin’ after Eyan?” Vania asked.
“I just thought someone ought to look after Eyan, that’s all, especially since….”
Vania’s eyes misted. “Why, thank ye Dayn,” she said, then returned her gaze to the road. “But Haskel will be home soon. I’m sure of it.”
“Auntie?”
“Hmmm?” she said.
“If uncle doesn’t return, how are we going to handle the introduction of Eyan to the clans and the issue of Tearia?”
“I said he’ll be here,” she said crossly.
Dayn turned his eyes to his feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know,” Vania said, softening her tone. “But he’ll be here.”
“Is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime?” Dayn asked. “All the wagons pretty much know where to go now, and I wasn’t sure if I should stay out of sight with Eyan. Until the plenum starts, I mean. I was thinking maybe we should start it early, so there’ll be enough time.”
“Enough time?” Vania asked.
“To discuss everything.”
Vania glanced toward the sky. The sun was easing toward the west. “I’ll leave the startin’ time to Haskel,” she said.
“All right,” Dayn said, but he knew a decision would have to be made soon. Though most of the families were expected to arrive well before dark, it would be unwise to delay things on account of a few stragglers. In the past, the duration of the Plenum of Four had not been an issue. According to his father, there sometimes wasn’t much business to discuss, so many plenums wrapped up early. That left plenty of time for entertainment, the primary reason most people came anyway. Dayn knew little else about the plenums; he had never been allowed to attend one. But this time he and Alicine would be up front and center with news about Tearia, a topic the clans would definitely not welcome. Then there was the issue of Eyan, his eyes another subject sure to explode in debate. Hopefully the information about Tearia would ease the argument in Eyan’s regard, but first Dayn had to convince them the place existed and, of course, that demons didn’t.
But if that wasn’t enough to keep tempers roiling, there were still the issues of the Vestry’s discord with the clans, the fire on the mountain, and Dayn’s recent altercation with Lorcan at the springs. Dayn wasn’t sure how much Haskel had told the clans when he went to notify them of the Gathering, but based on the numbers arriving, he must have said plenty. And based on the expressions of some of the guests, there were going to be a lot of raw feelings.
Back to ToC
Chapter 23: The Plenum of Four
The sky was moonless, but a canopy of bright autumn stars, coupled with a hundred or so towering pole-torches, illuminated the circle where the plenum was about to take place. The torches, evenly dispersed between the stones, threw flickering patterns upon the faces of those in attendance, and dancing shadows on the landscape that surrounded them. Most members had already taken their places within the circle, but a few remained huddled outside the perimeter, whispering and glancing toward the stage. They were well aware that once their feet touched the inner circle, personal business was required to cease.
The stage bordered the highest edge of the interior circle. There the ground rose along the hillside and allowed fine viewing for all in attendance. Timber planks made up the platform that held two sections of seating. On the right, one long bench accommodated the Chieftains who made up the Plenum of Four. Already seated, three of the leaders waited, eyeing the crowd with crossed arms and serious faces. On the left, two rows of benches were arranged for the hosting family, not only to honor them for their invitation, but to give their entreaties top priority. Dayn was seated on the front bench, in his assigned place. To his right sat his uncle Nort, staring trancelike over the heads of the crowd, and to Dayn’s left sat Eyan. Eyan’s shoulders were hunched, allowing a shock of long hair to fall over his eyes. He sat as if frozen, with the exception of one leg that refused to stop bouncing.
Dayn moved his gaze along the line of Chieftains, noting their appearances and recalling their reputations. At the far end was Brenainn, chief of the Basyl clan. A huge, rugged-looking man, Brenainn was dressed in thick plaids of red and brown. His long black hair tumbled down his shoulders, and a wiry beard nested atop his barrel-shaped chest. The Basyls haled from a remote northern region, a barbaric place known for its wild game and even wilder lore. The men there were famous for their hunting skills. It was said a Basyl could bring down a full-grown boar with his bare hands, not for lack of a weapon, but for the sheer sport of it.
Seated to the left of Brenainn was Ionhar of the Crests. Lean, middle-aged, and dressed in tight-fitting leathers of indigo blue, Ionhar was known as one of the finest archers in all the lands. He was also said to be the voice of reason when disagreements arose. Next to him sat Uaine, clan leader of the Sandrights, the clan which had recently assimilated with the Crests. Word was that his people had relocated because of tainted wells, but newly emerging gossip indicated there might be more to it.
As Dayn watched Uaine, he realized he knew little about the man. The Chieftain had only recently inherited the position when his older brother, Aode, the former leader, had mysteriously vanished. Still, Uaine looked well-suited for the role. Unlike most clans that held elections for leadership, the Sandrights clung to the more traditional method of inheritance. They held steadfastly to their fundamentalist ways, and Uaine’s covered head, conservative tunic, and ankle-length coat seemed to amplify that lifestyle. Dayn could not help but wonder how the Crests and the Sandrights managed to get along. But they obviously did; they were, after all, now living side by side. It was then that he realized one of the Chieftains had not yet taken his place on the stage—Peadar of the Aerie Clan.
Dayn turned his attention to the crowd, searching for a sign of his own clan’s Chieftain, when he noticed a conspicuous group of men still standing outside the circle. Their heads were leaned in, their voices low, and they were flicking hostile glares in his direction.
Nort nudged Dayn with an elbow. “Hot here, ain’t it?” he muttered.
Dayn turned his eyes to his uncle, realizing he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. Nort’s face was streaked with sweat, and his hands were clasped so tightly, his knuckles had gone white.
“Yes; hot,” Dayn managed. He ran a finger along the interior of his own sticky collar.
Nort looked at him from the corner of his eye. He snickered. “Didn’t think ye could get much paler, boy. Guess I was wrong.”
Eyan, still hunched, gazed up at Dayn through a shock of hair. “Ye look like you're about to puke,” he said.
“You don’t look so good yourself,” Dayn replied.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t about to puke, too.”
Nort snorted. “Well you boys turn your heads in the other direction when ye do, eh?”
The men outside the circle stepped toward the official entrance. Dayn prayed they would be turned away. He knew entry was strictly enforced. Circles could not typically accommodate the large numbers that attended Gatherings, so families were allowed to send only one representative to the plenum itself. Anyone could watch from outside the circle, but only those within it had any say. They could be male, female, pre-adult or old, but those invited had to be familiar with the agenda and respectful of the protocol. An exception to the rule was made for the hosting family, as well as those who were directly involved in a particular aspect of the agenda, such as the formal introduction of a new me
mber, or disputes that required intervention. The way Dayn saw it, he and his family were covered from just about every angle.
The seemingly disgruntled men were allowed to enter, they had obviously been invited, but there was no time to worry about them now. Dayn turned in his seat and surveyed the bench at his back. Seela was seated there with young Ben squirming in her lap. Dayn leaned toward Nort. “Where’s Vania, and Mother and Alicine?” he asked. “I thought they were with Seela.”
Nort scanned the crowd. “They’re here…somewhere.”
A sudden shuffling at the steps alerted them to the tardy, but welcome, arrival of the remaining women. Vania, Morna, and Alicine moved to their seats. Fluffing their skirts, they settled in and folded their hands in their laps. Thin smiles graced their lips.
Vania leaned forward and whispered something into Nort’s ear. Hopefully her apologies, Dayn thought.
“Where have you been?” Dayn grumbled over his shoulder. “We’ve felt like target practice up here.”
Vania patted his shoulder affectionately. “Had to attend to a few last minute details, dear. That’s all.”
“Like what?” Dayn retorted. “Alicine adding more ribbons to the barn?”
Eyan chuckled.
“Funny,” Alicine said. “I’ll have you know—”
But before she could say another word, the commanding presence of Peadar, Chieftain of the Aeries, made its way onto the stage, and behind him were Haskel and Eileis.
Dayn closed his eyes and muttered a prayer of gratitude. But as grateful as he was to see Haskel, he was even more grateful for the presence of Eileis the Spirit Keeper.
Frail and elderly, the Spirit Keeper was probably the last of her kind, at least in the land of Kirador. For generations Spirit Keepers like Eileis had been healers of body and counselors of soul, but even more importantly, they had been teachers of the mind. Their arts had been passed down from mother to daughter for nearly a thousand years, and with those arts had come hundreds of texts filled with the wisdom of the ancients. But in recent years those teachings had been silenced by Vestry laws that dictated one philosophy and one religion. No longer could the writings of one’s ancestors be taught; no longer could other belief systems be explored.
It was because of their original attachment to their own ancient ways that the clans had difficulty getting along with the citizens of Kiradyn, most particularly the members of the Vestry. Their people still traded, of course, for the Kiradyns had come to enjoy the wild meat and pelts, minerals, painted potteries, and medicinals the clans had to offer. But it was an uneasy relationship. The only reason Eileis remained in Kiradyn rather than join the mountain clans was because she felt the Kiradyns needed her wisdom more, or so she said. Unfortunately, she had become little more than a figurehead to the Kiradyns, a quaint custom that was due some courtesy, yes, but allotted little power other than that which was required for appearances.
Fortunately, the clans still held her in high regard.
As Dayn watched, he realized she looked older than when he had last seen her. That had been at the Summer Fires festival several months prior, when she had made a strange entreaty asking everyone to open their minds to the truth. Her body, bent and frail even then, seemed even more so now, as if a simple puff of wind could blow her away. But Dayn knew Eileis had a strength in her that few possessed, and prayed it would carry her, and the rest of them, through the debate that was sure to take place tonight.
A rustle of clan members took their last-minute places within the circle. Peadar waited in the center of the stage, arms at his side, feet planted, while Haskel and Eileis stood at his back. Haskel looked toward his family sitting on the benches to his right. He gave them a nod and a smile, but his expression was wary.
Peadar stepped to the edge of the stage, his presence demanding attention. Dressed in the rich forest greens of his clan, Peadar looked noble and proud. His cloak was tossed back across his shoulders, revealing muscular arms encircled by bronze bands. His black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back and tightly braided, making the planes of his face look angular and pronounced. He narrowed his eyes as he slowly ran them over the crowd.
He raised his arms, palms turned toward the audience. All went still. Only the crackle of torch fires could be heard. Even the distant campground chatter had gone silent.
“Aye, hear me brothers and sisters,” he said, “clans of the air, of the soil and the rock, of meadow, forest, and stream.” His voice emitted through the air, amplified by the power of the great circle and the silence of the crowd. “Welcome all to the realm of Aerie, born of the blood of Konyl who once lived in the highest reaches. Hail the blood of Konyl, he who led the clans against the demon hoards o’er ten generations ago.”
“Hail Konyl,” the crowd shouted in a well-rehearsed chorus. “Hail the blood spilt in his name.”
“Thank ye, the house of Haskel, son of Fiach,” Peadar said, “and to Vania, daughter of Yann, for their hostin’ of the clans this day.”
Haskel and Vania tipped their heads in acknowledgement.
“Hail Haskel, son of Fiach,” the audience echoed, “and Vania, daughter of Yann.”
“This day we have much to discuss,” Peadar said. “Two members of our clan: one unrecognizable…” He turned his eyes to Dayn. “The other not yet recognized.” Eyan’s bouncing leg grew still.
“Both prepared to reveal their true selves to us,” Peadar continued. “Tonight we will hear for their defense.”
Defense? Dayn wondered. He and Eyan weren’t on trial, were they?
Peadar swept a hand toward Haskel, then moved to sit with the other Chieftains.
Haskel stepped forward. “My friends,” he said. “My family and I welcome you all. We come before ye today to ask recognition for our son, Eyan.” He motioned Eyan to join him.
Eyan hesitated, then rose and shuffled toward his father. He stopped at his side, but kept his eyes aimed at the floor.
“Raise your face to ‘em, son,” his father said quietly.
Eyan lifted his head, flicking back the hair that had previously veiled his eyes.
The crowd gasped and muttered. Most had heard the recent rumors in regard to the color of Eyan’s eyes, but few had actually seen them.
“Present yourself to the Chieftains, boy,” Haskel said.
Eyan turned and walked slowly down the line of Chieftains. His gaze was no longer turned to the floor, yet he could not seem to lift it above the men’s knees.
Ionhar of the Crests watched intently as Eyan passed, but the leader showed no emotion, only contemplation. Next to him, Uaine stared grimly. He said not a word as Eyan continued along the line, but the hardening of his face indicated a repressed desire to speak.
Brenainn’s bear-like frame rose from the far end of the bench. He reached out and grabbed Eyan by the chin, stopping him short. The Chieftain surveyed Eyan’s face, then let go his hold. A broad grin parted his beard. “Why the boy’s a damned demon,” he said, and bellowed out a laugh.
Dayn saw Haskel tense, but his uncle made no move. Dayn, on the other hand, found himself vaulting from the chair. “He’s not a demon!” he cried.
The crowd grew noisy. Brenainn arched a wiry brow. “He ain’t eh?” he said. The audience grew still. “Well, I be sayin’ he’s naw anythin’ but! An you one to be talkin’.” He guffawed. “A lot o’ braw in ye, I be thinkin’.”
Dayn worked to decipher Brenainn’s garblings. “Eyan’s not a demon,” he managed in rebuttal. “They don’t even exist.”
There was a new rumble from the circle. Mutters of blasphemy filled the air.
“Don’t exist, eh?” Brenainn rubbed his chin. “Well, mebe they do and mebe they don’t. I for one am willin’ to hear your piece, but I be thinkin’ ye’ll be upsettin’ more than a few folks here iffin’ ye do.”
Uaine rose. “I agree,” he said firmly. “We’re not here to test our fellow clansmen with innuendos and propaganda, especially from two boys who may have u
lterior motives.”
“With all due respect,” Haskel said, taking a bold step forward. “There’re no ulterior motives here. Eyan is my son, comin’ out to the clans, nothin’ more. And Dayn…well…he has information that’ll not be easy to hear, that I grant ye. But he will be heard nonetheless.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to dictate who will and will not be heard,” Uaine said. “That’s the decision of the Chieftains, and the last time I looked, it was Peadar that led the Aeries.”
Peadar stared darkly at Uaine. “That’s correct, Uaine. I speak for the Aeries. And I say Haskel’s nephew will have his say.”
Uaine stiffened. “Very well,” he said through gritted teeth, and waved Dayn to the center of the stage. Haskel took his seat next to Vania while the standing Chieftains resumed their places. Nort rose politely, gesturing for Eileis to sit beside him.
Dayn glanced around nervously. How had the attention turned in his direction so quickly? Shouldn’t more time be spent on Eyan’s acceptance into the clans? But then he realized that his revelation about Tearia was the exact kind of information the crowd needed if they were to accept Haskel’s son. He motioned for Alicine and Eyan to join him. If he was going to take a leap into the fire, he wasn’t taking it alone.
“My name is Dayn,” he said to the audience. “I was given it by my Kiradyn parents, Gorman and Morna. It was they who raised me, but I am not their blood son.” Heads shook and voices whispered, but Dayn continued. “My name is also Keefe,” he said more boldly. “I was given that name by my true parents, Brina and Mahon of the realm of Tearia.
“My eyes are blue. My hair is blond and my skin is pale. Yet I am as human as you are. You claim I have demon blood in me. In a sense, that’s true. But the demons you speak of are not from the underworld, they are from this world, our world.”
One of the men who had been glaring at Dayn earlier from the sidelines shook his fist in the air. “Stop ‘im,” he demanded. “Stop ‘im before he says another word.”
Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn Page 21
