by Rick Shelley
"All of us here have been to the land of the gods and had some chance to see how the old gods live, and how they feel about us. They are all our enemies, whether through active hate or idle bitterness. Even Mikel, the Unseen Lord of the White Brotherhood, can never be trusted fully. He is no longer master here, and he is no sure ally. At best, we may hope for—but never depend on—his neutrality. We must look to our own defenses, with no more than our own resources, now and most likely forever.
"The forced seclusion of this valley is perhaps our most pressing problem. On this we need advice and more information. It's something to be studied at length and depth.
"This other change, the physical rearrangement of Britain and Ireland, puzzles me as well. I see neither advantage nor danger, no reason at all for it. I think it would be well if we all gazed upon the changes directly."
No further words were necessary. There was no need for magical incantation. Linked together, the minds of Silvas and Maria soared from the ethereal room of the Council, taking the consciousnesses of the others with them, separate yet together, linked in Council almost as fully as Silvas and Maria were linked even outside it. There was a quick ascent into the sky, a heady sensation even for Silvas, who had felt similar ascents before. The five of them looked down on the world from the heavens, a circle of invisible faces, high enough to clearly see the new islands and the continent they had been split free of. They saw the new water flowing through the gaps, the English Channel and the Irish Sea. Silvas pointed out cities and landmarks to orient the others. Then they all looked more closely at the places where the land had been fractured. Finally, they looked for the valley of the Seven Towers.
But the valley was not there. The Pennines themselves had changed. The mountains at either side of the valley had, as far as Silvas and the others could see, moved together into a thicker ridge, completely obliterating any trace of the valley. The roads moved around it. The land itself seemed to hold no memory that the valley of the Seven Towers had ever existed.
Then everyone found their awareness back in their spirit bodies around the Council table.
"People have no memories of the way things used to be," Bay announced. "To all mortal knowledge outside our valley, it has always been thus. Britain and Ireland have always been islands, never joined to Europe. Even the histories kept by the monks of the White Brotherhood and other churchly orders now differ from our memories. Lives were lost in the sundering, but those with memories of the dead now believe that they died in other fashion. Some of those who died are no longer known to have ever lived. I see no practical reason for the sundering. It may have been no more than a chance byproduct of the battle fought among the gods, or an action calculated for no more than immediate effect during that battle.
"The veil over our valley is much more important. I see not who placed it, or why, but I sense that it is a test, and the way we meet this test may well determine what befalls us next."
Bosc spoke next. In Council, his voice was more assured, less servile, than outside. He spoke as a full counselor of long experience.
"The earth's wounds have scarred over, as they always do. She no longer feels the pain of the sundering. She will endure this wound as she has endured many others, some many times greater."
"I am not yet fully certain of my responsibilities here," Braf said when the others looked his way. "I hope that you will help me to learn them. I cannot speak of these changes to earth. They are beyond my ken. As to the veil that hangs over the Seven Towers, if you wish it broken, I will take my lads and try to do that, but I sense that it may not be possible for physical warriors alone, and that is all I know. But I saw much on our sad trek to the land of the gods. There were many soldiers there. If they considered us at all, it was not as possible enemies on a field of battle, but as possible nuisances who might need crushing as we might swat at flies disturbing us at table. While these armies of the gods may indeed be so powerful that they don't consider the possibility that we may have stings, that confidence may also be misplaced. Every warrior knows the advantage of having an enemy so thoroughly underestimate him."
Braf lowered his eyes when he finished speaking, as if in apology for daring to offer his opinions.
"You are correct, Braf," Silvas said. "Having an opponent misjudge you, in either direction, can offset many disadvantages. But, in turn, we dare not make equally erroneous judgments of them. You are also correct in saying that the veil will not yield to merely physical force, yet I would have you dispatch patrols to test every pace of the barrier, all of the way around our valley, to see if there are any gaps, any places where they can break through with merely physical force. Send two patrols, perhaps, one in each direction. It will take two or three days, no doubt, for them, to meet at the far end of the valley. Have them provisioned against that. And send riders with each patrol to carry news back to the Seven Towers of anything unusual they encounter."
"Aye, lord. I'll see to't instantly—when I can," Braf added after a quick look around him.
"Shortly, Braf," Silvas said. "Maria and I will also continue our investigations. We will most likely need to speak with Mikel again. Though he may bear us no goodwill, he remains our most likely source of information among the elder gods. Bay, any facts you might find for us would also be welcome."
"As always, I will do what I may," Bay said.
"And I," Bosc added. "I will see what Mother Earth will say to me."
"Before we terminate this Council," Bay said, "I have one suggestion to offer. While Girabelle served Maria nicely during our excursion to the land of the gods, she does need a more fitting mount, a horse of stature and stamina not unlike my own. Our attempts to pierce the veil around this valley are testimony to that need."
"You know where we may find such a horse?" Silvas asked.
"There is no such animal in English, perhaps not in all of the mortal worlds, but gathered in Council, we may be able to find and procure such a horse."
"A horse as gifted as you?" Silvas asked.
Bay snorted. "There is no such horse as that. But one at least to equal any we saw in the land of the gods."
"I am satisfied with Girabelle," Maria said. "But if you truly feel I need something more, and that we can get it, I am agreeable."
"Have you a particular horse in mind?" Silvas asked.
"No, but I believe I know where we may find what we seek," Bay said. "If you will all channel power through me, I may be able to focus properly."
"How?" Braf asked.
"Merely stare at Bay and concentrate all of your awareness on him," Maria said softly.
Silvas and Maria provided most of the raw power. All of the members of the Council found themselves looking through Bay's eyes. They seemed to speed low over a land that alternated between lush pastures and tall stands of forest. A herd of horses galloped ahead of them, then turned to the right and ran on, fleeing as if they could see the eyes that were chasing them.
There, to the right, in front of the herd, Bay's voice said within the minds of his companions. The white mare.
Everyone focused on that one horse. Even among this herd, the white mare seemed large, magnificent, perhaps even larger than the palomino stallion that brought up the rear. The visual chase grew closer. After several minutes, the white mare veered off from the rest of the herd, as if she had discovered that there was a pursuit under way, and that she was the quarry.
When the white mare was well away from any of the other horses, Bay said, "Now!" very loudly, and for a moment the mare seemed to be galloping in a void, neighing wildly in sudden terror.
Then Bay was galloping at her side while the others continued to watch. Bay got half a length in front of the other horse, but so close that their flanks touched. He turned the mare to the left, tightening the radius of her turn, putting his head out in front of her, slowing her, doing what he could to soothe her.
"We need to end this Council now," Bay said, "Bosc, Camiss will need both of us to calm her."
Silvas spoke the words to close the Council, and it was ended.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"I want to see that horse right away," Maria said excitedly, as soon as her awareness returned to her physical body. She did not move, though. She and Silvas were still sitting in the center of an active pentagram, and she dared not cross any of its lines until it had been deactivated.
"Yes, I'm curious myself," Silvas admitted. They got to their feet, carefully, and went through the final spells to shut down the mechanisms and defenses of the pentagram.
"We also need to check with the others," Silvas said when they stepped out of the crystal pentagram. Satin and Velvet came to nuzzle against them, and to be petted—their usual "fee" for sitting as sentries. "I do that after any Council, as quickly as may be. There are dangers. We have to be certain that none of our counselors have taken harm."
"Yes, we should see each of them," Maria agreed, "even though none has taken harm this time." While she was speaking, Maria had reached out to touch the minds of each of the others, with Silvas's mind linked to her own. It seemed to take no time at all, yet each of the counselors was able to assure them of his well-being.
"That is new," Silvas admitted when it was over. "But, yes, we'll go to each of them."
"We'll find Bay and Bosc together, calming Camiss," Maria said. "And I think that Braf will come to us before we can go to him."
"Once we've seen to our counselors, I don't think we should long delay our attempt to speak with Mikel," Silvas said as they left the workroom. "We need to ask about the isolation of this valley, and try to learn how much hostility we face from the other gods. Barreth isn't the only one with a hot hatred of us, and we need to know what allies he might count on. Still, I'm not certain that I can force the contact if Mikel resists."
"The habit is old. He shouldn't be come to the point of resisting contact from you yet," Maria said.
After the Council both preferred open speech to the more direct, but silent, communication between minds. They spoke of things that they really did not need to mention again, to have the comfort of spoken words.
As soon as Silvas opened the door leading from the keep out into the courtyard, they could hear loud whinnying coming from the direction of the mews. Satin and Velvet stopped in the doorway, choosing not to go out to confront a nervous horse.
"That must be Camiss," Silvas said with a chuckle. "She's not yet calmed to her new home."
"Riding a wild horse will be a new adventure for me," Maria said. "The pony I sometimes rode on my father's estate was so old and docile that I could outrun her on foot."
"Camiss won't be wild long. Bay and Bosc will tame her almost before we get there."
The white mare was almost exactly the same size as Bay, close to eight feet tall at the withers. She wore no harness yet when Silvas rounded the corner of the keep and saw her in the flesh for the first time. Camiss was cantering skittishly around the bailey, with Bay remaining close, confining her movements, turning her as he willed. Bosc stood near the gate to Bay's stall, watching anxiously, but not burdening Bay with unnecessary advice.
Maria and Silvas went to join Bosc, careful to stay well clear of the two large horses. Silvas beamed a spell of calming at the mare, but there was little visible evidence that it did any good.
"A beautiful horse is Camiss," Bosc said when Silvas and Maria reached him. "Such a pure white I've never seen in a horse."
Silvas chuckled. "It's been an age since I saw Bay sweat so."
"He'll have an appetite an' then some," Bosc allowed. "An' so will she. Camiss has the look of a five-year-old, not that our years have much sway where she came from."
"The two of them will eat as much as a half-dozen normal horses," Maria said. "My father would blanch at the cost."
"I think we can afford it," Silvas said.
Camiss started to slow down. Her exertions were beginning to tell. Bay moved her this way and that, forcing her to do his will.
"We've a good saddle maker here, my lady," Bosc said. " 'Twill take a few days for him to make a proper kit for Camiss. Betwixt times, I've a spare set of tack for Bay that will fit her."
"Thank you, Bosc," Maria said. "I'm sure it will be perfect."
Suddenly, Camiss stopped, planting her feet. She stood firm, not responding at all to Bay's continuing pressures. After a few minutes, Bay backed off and stared at her for a moment, then walked over to the others.
"I've done my part," Bay said. "It's up to folk with two feet to finish the job."
"I'll see to her training, my lady," Bosc said quickly.
Maria beamed a warm smile at him. "Thank you, Bosc, but I think that may not be necessary. Let's see."
Maria walked slowly out into the center of the courtyard, circling around so that she came at Camiss from directly ahead. She spoke soothingly to the horse, but at the same time she reached out with her mind to gentle her. This was not the spell of calming that Silvas might have used, but something more direct, an exercise of pure power deftly couched as emotional suasion. A few feet from Camiss's nose, Maria extended her right hand. The horse did not try to flee, did not make any threatening gestures to keep Maria away. After a moment, Camiss stepped forward and nuzzled Maria's hand with her muzzle. Then Maria stroked Camiss's head from between the eyes down to the nostrils, talking all the while.
"We're going to be great friends, aren't we?" Maria said finally, still in a coaxing tone of voice. She scratched Camiss under the mouth, then moved back along her left side, one hand always on the horse.
"Now, I think it's time to see how we'll work together."
Maria wrapped her left hand in Camiss's long mane and leaped up onto her back, skirts askew. Camiss showed no discomfort or panic. She did not rear or whinny.
"Now, a soft turn around the courtyard," Maria said, and the horse seemed to understand her—either the words, or the mental images that Maria projected with them. They started with a sedate walk. After a moment, Camiss moved first into a trot and then into a gentle canter, moving counterclockwise around the side courtyard.
"She has a way with Camiss," Bosc said softly.
"Yes, but a way of power," Bay said, in case Bosc had missed the deeper ways. Bosc did not often look for such things.
"Still, a gentle way," Silvas said, his eyes glued to Maria and her new mount. "Any other would have been harder on the animal, and less certain. Maria's touch is perfect in this."
For ten minutes, Maria rode Camiss in gentle laps around the portion of the bailey that was visible from where Bay and the others stood. Then Maria took Camiss around into the front section of the bailey, and finally out the gate. They were not gone long. Maria let Camiss stretch out into a gallop for a couple of minutes, down the road almost to the village, and then back, then slowed her to a walk and brought her back within the Seven Towers and to the group standing in front of the mews.
After she dismounted, Maria hugged Camiss's neck, though it took a mighty stretch on her part, and cooperation on the part of the horse.
"She is perfect, Bay," Maria said, her face a trifle flushed from the ride and from excitement. "Absolutely perfect."
Bay acknowledged the implied compliment only with a nod.
"I'll see to Camiss now, mistress," Bosc said. He spoke to the horse in a mixed collection of words and guttural sounds.
"And we have work to do yet," Silvas said, reinforcing the words with a thought directed privately at Maria. "Bay, Bosc, you might well be on your guard for a time. We're going to attempt to contact Mikel. There may be some sort of immediate response. Braf, you'll want to put your men on alert as well."
"Aye, lord." Braf had joined the group at the mews while Maria was off with Camiss. "I've already set the patrols to check on this veil that seals us off from the world. They'll be leaving within minutes."
"Perhaps you'd better hold them until after Maria and I make contact with Mikel," Silvas said. "I'll let you know when."
"Aye, lord. Then I'd be
st hurry myself before they get gone."
—|—
"Do we use the pentagram?" Maria asked as she and Silvas entered the keep. Satin and Velvet were sitting in the foyer. They fell into step behind Maria and Silvas.
"No, that would give the wrong impression. Mikel might think that we feel weak or uncertain. I think that either the library or the small sitting room would be appropriate."
"The sitting room, then. The books and scrolls in the library might make it seem that we were lost in a desperate hunt for information."
Silvas nodded. "You have it exactly. Mikel is certainly not one to be overwhelmed by the wealth the library represents, and he will judge the setting with more care than we might."
They went through the great hall to the tapestry that concealed the back stairs up to their living quarters. Early preparations for the evening meal had already begun in the great hall.
"We'll dine down here tonight?" Maria suggested before they reached the stairs. "After we've completed our work?"
"Yes, that's a good idea," Silvas said. "After all of the changes, our people have seen too little of us."
Except in mourning, Maria amended, and Silvas nodded. He caught the eye of one of the servants working among the tables, then pointed to himself and Maria, then at the head table. The servant bobbed her head and hurried off toward the kitchens.
"I'll tell Koshka as well," Maria said.
When they reached the small sitting room, Maria looked around quickly, to see if there was anything that needed doing before they made their attempt to contact Mikel. The setting needed to be just so. And it was, at least to her thinking. Koshka brought a tray with wine and cheese. Maria told him that she and Silvas would be dining in the great hall.
"We may be a trifle delayed. I don't know for certain," Silvas added. "We'll try not to be too late."
"Aye, lord. I'll see to the arrangements." Koshka scurried from the room.
"We'll sit on the sofa," Silvas said. "With you at my right hand. Wine poured."
