“My lady, may I ask you a few questions?” Dorenn began.
Lady Shey stopped what she was doing, and as if she had read his mind, she stated, “I sent Rodraq out front to search for signs of this ‘animal’ Rof described. I do have suspicions that it is no animal, and aye, Rodraq did find signs to collaborate my suspicions. Any other questions you wish to ask of me or is that the whole of it?”
Dorenn was impressed. He didn’t have to goad it out of her after all. “Only one more. Why all the mystery?”
Lady Shey resumed her task and set the jar on the back of the wagon. “I am not in the habit of exposing my suspicions until I have evidence to back them up. Morgoran always said to be sure or hold your tongue. I am not intentionally holding anything back from you.”
“All right. What happened to me that night? Why was I was attacked, and why did you try to make me forget about it? Your magic makes a noise in my head. You shouldn’t use it in Symboria!”
Lady Shey looked at him with a gaze so intense, he could not look at her directly so he shifted his eyes away. “What is wrong with you, boy? Why is it so difficult for you Symborians to accept? The world existed before you outlawed magic you know.”
Dorenn pursed his lips angrily but remained wisely silent.
Lady Shey again looked at him with her sapphire blue eyes, and her gaze melted into a combination of hurt and anger. “Forgive me. You are even more talented than I thought. That Drasmyd Duil was sent to kill you. Sylvalora and I believe you are to be a great wielder. The fact that you can resist my magic proves to me that we are correct. The noise you hear in your head when I use magic means you can draw essence too.” She looked around to make sure they were still alone. “Don’t say anything about it to anyone yet. Keep it to yourself until I have time to talk to you in more detail. And close your mouth! You look ridiculous.”
Dorenn snapped his jaw closed. “I mean no offense, my lady, but to speak about wielders in the way you are is grounds for death in Symboria. I tried once to read about Morgoran and wielders in the village archive, but most of the stories of magic and wielders are outlawed too.”
Lady Shey smiled. “I know. It’s complicated. Your upbringing tells you to reject wielding. You are going to have to get past all that now if you want to survive.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Dorenn asked.
“Ask me another time when I can help you deal with it more freely. As for now, I have your best interest at heart. You’re safe. Now, you must forgive me, I need to speak with Rodraq.” Lady Shey feigned a weak smile and shuffled away from him.
Dorenn realized he still did not know what Rodraq had found ahead on the road, but he knew better than to pursue the noblewoman and ask more questions, so he went to find Rennon, Trendan, or Vesperin. Something in his mind seemed hazy and he wondered if Lady Shey had sent him off again. There was no sound this time to indicate she had. He wandered around in a fog for a few minutes until he found Vesperin meditating and praying just out of sight in a clump of close trees, and Dorenn decided not to disturb him. Trendan and Rennon were smoking pipes and playing nine cards by the fire. Dorenn found his own pipe and joined them. After a time, Tatrice joined them as well, and soon she was snuggling up next to him. Apparently her anger had subsided, although when he tried to bring the subject up, she shushed him and said something about not stoking a dying fire, so he let the matter drop.
At first light, the camp was packed and the area cleared. Dorenn and his companions played nine cards late into the night, and consequently, they were all tired at breakfast, but as they began to travel again, the tiredness subsided a bit. Dorenn hoped they could stay in an inn when they reached Cedar Falls. He understood the party would reach the small village before noon, which put them almost a full day ahead of schedule. He planned to suggest an overnight stay. Lourn and Dorenn often stayed in Cedar Falls when traveling to Symbor; the little village was one of the most beautiful places in all of Symboria.
It was midday before the sprawling village of Cedar Falls came into view, its slate roofed houses glistening in the summer sun. The river Euflare Aquane ran through the middle of the village, and many boats lined the shore in front of shops and storefronts on the river walk. The main road wound down next to the river on the opposite bank. Intricate wooden bridges spanned the river, leading to larger shops farther down on both sides of the river. Each shop and storefront was elaborately decorated with shudders, trimmed doorways, and sharply painted signage. There were two inns along the river walk, both with outdoor dining areas arranged under colorful awnings. Dorenn had Rennon stop the wagon near one of the bridges that led across the river to the larger of the two inns, The Eagle and the Hare. He was surprised to get no argument from Lady Shey, Tatrice, or Sylvalora about stopping so early in the day; instead, he got resistance from Rodraq, Rennon, and Trendan, who were fervently overruled by the women wanting to soak in the scented bathhouses so famous in Cedar Falls. Dorenn secured rooms at the inn, and Rennon oversaw the stabling of the horses and team. Rennon had the wagon taken to the rear of the inn for cleaning and minor wheel repair.
After settling into their rooms, the three women made their way to the bathhouses and insisted the men and boys also should have a bath if they wanted to continue to travel in their presence. The Eagle and the Hare had three bathhouses: one for men, one for women, and one for community. Each bathhouse had three rooms; the first had warm water, the second hot water, and the last cold water for rinsing. Being simple folk from a small village, only the men and women’s bathhouses were utilized.
Scents of wild flowers and lavender filled the women’s bathhouse as Tatrice settled into the sunken pool of hot water next to Sylvalora.
“Tatrice dear, how long have you and Dorenn been seeing each other?” Sylvalora asked offhandedly.
Tatrice blushed furiously. “We have known each other all our lives. I suppose we have always been together.”
“Thank you for being so straightforward, dear.”
“Why do you ask that question of me, my lady?” Tatrice asked as she reached for a cake of rose scented soap.
Sylvalora frowned. “I am not nobility, dear, no need to refer to me as such.” She smiled. “I ask that question of you because Dorenn’s destiny is quite important, and I want to know how serious you are about him.”
“I am not planning to marry him if that is what you are getting at. I love him, that much is true, but I am not ready to marry.”
“That’s right, Tatrice, do not marry because it is expected of you. Marry because you feel it is right. Marry for love,” Lady Shey interjected, lowering herself into the warm, lavender scented waters and giving Sylvalora a slanted look.
“If my mother were still alive I think she would disagree,” Tatrice added sadly. “My father said she would have me married off by now.”
“A tragic affair, your mother. She was a good woman,” Sylvalora stated with respect apparent in her voice.
Tatrice started. “You knew my mother?”
“Oh yes, dear, Shey and I both knew her before you were born. Don’t you remember anything about her?”
“Not much. I remember she would sing to me at night.” Tatrice had a far off look in her eyes. “And she smelled of lilacs, and she was stunningly beautiful.”
“Aye, she was indeed,” Lady Shey remembered. “Where is your father? Does he still reside in Brookhaven?”
“No, he is serving in the army of the West as a general. He was one of the first to go. He commands an outpost in the Jagged Mountains, you know.”
Sylvalora shifted in the water. “Whose care did he leave you in then?”
“He left me in the care of his best friend, Lourn Adair.”
“I see,” Sylvalora said.
“What do you mean Dorenn has an important destiny? Are you a seer?”
“I am many things, child; however, I leave the seeing to Morgoran Cleareyes and the Prophecies of the Vale. It is he who sees into the future.”
&n
bsp; Lady Shey cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps you say too much, Sylvalora.
“Aye, I have not forgotten, Shey.”
“Very well, I will not presume to debate you on what you choose to tell her, but let us not fill Tatrice’s mind with too much to contemplate too soon.”
“You are right, Lady Shey, very well.”
“I don’t mind,” Tatrice interjected, hoping to hear more.
“Aye, but we do,” Lady Shey said, pouring the scented water on her back with a bathing ladle. “You will know all in time, I am sure.”
Tatrice opened her mouth as if to say something, but Lady Shey frowned, so she disappointedly closed it again.
Chapter 18: Symbor
Dorenn roused to a gentle knock on his door. He rubbed his eyes and rose out of bed. Not yet fully awake, he stumbled across the room and opened the door to find Tatrice standing there.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said gleefully. “I thought you might want to get some breakfast with me this morning. Rennon, Trendan, and Rodraq are already hitching up the team and getting the wagon loaded, so we will have to hurry.”
“You’re in a good mood. Does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”
“Try not to ruin it. Get up.”
Dorenn yawned and rubbed his eyes again. “Symbor is only half a day’s journey from here. I thought we would leave later in the day.”
“Well, Lady Shey says she needs for us to press on so that she may conduct her business as soon as possible.”
“Is her business in Symbor urgent?” Dorenn asked. “I never got the impression it was all that pressing.”
“If you are referring to her persistence that we stay here, she insisted we not travel in the dark last night due to the danger Rodraq reported.”
“I realize that, but I still didn’t get a feeling of urgency.”
“Well, for some reason she woke up everyone but you.” Tatrice flung open the curtains to let the warm morning sunshine fill the room. “The rest have eaten breakfast already, but I waited so I could eat with you.”
Dorenn cringed at the brightness of the sun and shielded his eyes for a moment. “Which is my point exactly; if she is in a hurry, why did she let me sleep in?”
Tatrice shrugged her shoulders.
“Let me get dressed, and I will meet you in the common room,” Dorenn said yawning.
“Meet me out on the river walk instead,” she said.
Dorenn smiled. “I will be there shortly.”
“Good,” Tatrice exclaimed giddily and kissed him softly on the lips.
Dorenn quickly got dressed, walked out to greet his friends, and put away his things on the wagon. Rennon was already inspecting the horses when Dorenn arrived.
Rennon greeted Dorenn. “There you are. Tatrice just passed by and asked me to tell you she will have breakfast brought out onto the dock shortly.
“Did you want to take the reins again today?” Dorenn asked.
“It’s not often that an apothecary’s apprentice gets to handle a team, much less travel,” Rennon replied. “Aye, I do.”
“You seem to be in good spirits this morning,” Dorenn said.
“Just don’t you hold us up too long or I will leave you here,” he said sharply.
Dorenn laughed and shook his head. “I won’t be long, and besides, I have all the money, remember?”
Rennon huffed and waved Dorenn on.
As Dorenn made his way to the dining area on the river walk, he passed a curious shop and stopped to peer into the window. The building was nestled between the inn and another shop. Its trim, painted deep maroon, sparkled strangely in the morning sun. In the window were polished stones, but not jewels, of all shapes and sizes. The small sign above the door read Precious Stones and Knickknacks. Dorenn impulsively decided to get Tatrice a gift, so he entered the shop. Rows and rows of stones of blue, green, and red lined the shelves. Behind the wooden counter, which was covered with still more stones and crystals, stood a tall, thin man of considerable age.
“Welcome to Precious Stones and Knickknacks, young master.” He extended his arms out in welcome to Dorenn. “How may I be of assistance?”
“I’m looking for a gift.” He considered his words carefully. “A romantic gift.”
The old man’s eyes brightened. “A romantic gift, why certainly. I’m sure we can find something romantic.” He winked at Dorenn. “What is the young lass’s favorite color?” he inquired, leaning his elbow on the wooden counter.
“Green,” Dorenn answered.
The old shopkeeper sprang up from behind the counter and snapped his fingers. “Green I can do, my boy.” He put his hand under his chin and surveyed his shelves. “I have stones and crystals and small figurines. Which one would your lass prefer?”
Dorenn looked around the room, uncertain of what to choose.
Seeing Dorenn’s indecision, the shopkeeper smiled. “I have just the thing.” He walked to a shelf and chose a small jade figurine. “Ah, here we go. ‘Tis a figure of an elf maiden, bold and beautiful.”
Dorenn liked the figure, but it was not exactly what he had in mind for Tatrice. “It is beautiful but I—”
“Here, hold it,” the old man said as he thrust the figure into Dorenn’s hands.
Dorenn froze as a peculiar sensation came over him. He turned the figure over in his hands as he felt its power. “What is it?” he asked.
The old man’s eyes glittered with delight. “It is an ancient thing called a Nolminae Alaenore.” The man paused but no sign of recognition came to Dorenn’s face. The old man frowned. “That is elven for jewel of essence.”
Realizing that what he held was magic, Dorenn became increasingly uncomfortable. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t take this.”
“Nonsense, and I will even do you one better.” The old man chose three violet stones from another shelf. “I will give you these three stones. They are rune stones. They will not harm you, but they will aid in your decisions.”
“What decisions?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.
The old man wrinkled his forehead. “All decisions worth deciding, boy.”
Dorenn examined the stones; each one had a different rune etched into it. “What do I owe you, sir?” Dorenn asked. He had decided not to argue with the old man, and he now felt an irresistible urge to cut his losses and leave.
“Two silver is all I ask,” the old man replied.
Dorenn thought for a moment. “Surely not, these stones and the figure are far more valuable than two silver.”
The old man’s face contorted anxiously. “You wish to pay more?”
“A fair price,” Dorenn said, suddenly realizing he was about to make a mistake. He handed the old man the silver and thanked him. A strange sensation came over him as he took the stones into his hand. Dorenn turned them over in his palm.
“Is there something the matter?” the old man asked.
Dorenn regained his senses. “Oh no. It’s just I was wondering how you came to sell these things in a land where they have been outlawed. Are you not afraid of the Enforcers finding out and coming to your shop?”
“Don’t you worry about me, young master; I have made special arrangements with the Enforcers. Besides, no one has said anything about magic here as far as I can remember.” He winked at Dorenn. “Now go on and meet your lass.”
As Dorenn exited and walked away from the shop, he thought he could hear the old man laughing. He felt as if a fog had lifted from his senses somehow.
Dorenn found Tatrice sitting at a table nearest the river. The Euflaire Aquane was not a particularly swift river, at least not while it wound its way through Cedar Falls proper. It did have a few rapids, but they were farther downstream near the falls that gave the village its name. As he neared Tatrice, the river actually gave off a pleasant scent, as if the villagers had filled it with the same flower scented oils they used in the bathhouses. Tatrice smiled excitedly as Dorenn sat down at the table. “Isn’t the river beautiful, Dorenn?”
“Each time I would travel through Cedar Falls I would look at this river and hope that someday I would get to enjoy a stay beside it.”
“I am sorry we have to leave so soon then,” Dorenn said.
Tatrice smiled and took his hand.
A few moments later, a portly man came out of the inn carrying a tray with bacon, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and fresh fruit on it. “Enjoy!” he said, bowing and backing away.
Dorenn put his hand into his pant pocket and took hold of the little statuette, but he released it, deciding he would give it to her after breakfast. Tatrice made them both a plate of food from the tray while the innkeeper brought out two goblets of spring wine. Dorenn took a gulp from his goblet and the bubbles tickled his nose. After eating and light conversation, Tatrice finished her goblet of spring wine and started to get up from the table. “No, wait, Tat, I have something I want to give you.” Tatrice sat back down excitedly. Dorenn fumbled for the figurine and pulled it from his pant pocket. “Here, I found this in a small shop on the way. Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it properly, but I hope you like it.”
“Oh, Dorenn, it is lovely, but I have nothing to give in return.”
“You have given me this fine breakfast.”
Tatrice hugged Dorenn and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“We had better get back to the wagon,” he said uncomfortably. He suddenly wished to avoid any awkwardness. “I don’t want to be left here.”
Tatrice beamed at Dorenn and nodded.
Dorenn left Tatrice and walked grinning to meet Rennon on the wagon. His friend was looking at him like he had lost his mind when he pulled himself up to the driver’s seat.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Rennon asked Dorenn as he snapped the reins.
Dawn of the Sacred Land Page 14
