Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  The Taris Fora or left branch – Baen knew the name. But he didn't really understand the meaning. He had spent not much more than two months in the Hallows all those years ago, and it would take a lifetime to fully understand how their realm worked. But in essence they considered their people as forming a great tree. The right branch or Hale Fora were the elected officials. The tall branch or Heriana Fora were the wardens and protectors. The courts of justice. And the left branch were the trade guilds. How the three branches worked together he didn't know. But even if he had mastered that understanding he would still have had to work out where Allene Mar Wane – the roots of the great tree or the priests – fitted in.

  The whole system was beyond complicated. But one thing he did realise from the rings he could see on their fingers and the magic he could feel streaming from them – these were the most magical of the Fae. They had to be from the guild of magic – Panis – which referred to a golden apple. Magic was one of the fruits of the great tree.

  If he had remained in G'lorenvale as he'd wanted to Baen would have been found a place within the guild of magic. He would have received training in his gift. In time he might have become a respected artisan of magic. That had been a dream of his. And there were other humans within their realm. But he hadn’t stayed. Instead he had become a book seller and was now following a completely different branch of another tree entirely.

  “And I am Baen Walkerton, a simple book seller,” he introduced himself formally. “It's always a good day to meet new friends, J'bel Tar. Though I feel I should point out that if you wish to remain unnoticed you should probably speak Darish.”

  “And if we don't wish to remain unnoticed?” The man unexpectedly reached up and pulled down his hood to reveal himself.

  Once more Baen was left standing there in shock. Wondering if his mind had finally broken. Anyone walking by the front window would surely see the Fae standing there if he looked inside. Eventually though he managed to find some words.

  “You wish to be seen?”

  “Being seen is an important first step in the diplomatic process.” J'bel managed another polite smile while his companion also lowered his hood.

  Baen was saved from having to say something intelligent as the doorbell rang again and two more people entered the store. But then he panicked for a moment, until he saw their faces. One of them was Dariya and seeing that the other person appeared to be accompanying her, he realised he didn't have to worry about what they might think on seeing a pair of Fae in his store. They weren't customers either.

  “Dariya? I take it you know something about this?”

  Somehow, he hadn't expected to see her again. He'd left the border at first light, the morning after the battle and just after Caris had left for her home. When he’d left Dariya and Nyri had been deep in conversation so he'd barely said any more to them than to bid them farewell. He had wondered what the two of them were talking about, but in the end the battle had been over, the victims of the attack were mostly on their way back to their homes, the prisoners had been marched away for trial in G'lorenvale and everyone else had been packing up. It had simply been time to go. Maybe, it occurred to him just then, he should have stayed a little longer. Perhaps it would have shed light on today’s visit.

  “Wizard! I see that all that bumping and bouncing on that contraption of yours hasn't completely turned your brain to soup after all!”

  “Not entirely.” He agreed with a nod. “Yet still I find myself somewhat taken aback by events this morning.”

  “You're not alone in that,” she muttered, shaking her head sorrowfully. “It seems our friends have taken to drinking the grape.” That said, she walked over to one of the nearer waist high bookshelves and pretended to an interest in them that no one in the room believed was genuine. She was listening.

  “What Miss Morningstar means by that,” J'bel replied, “is that while there were a number of different ways in which we could have responded to the violent attack by Duke Barnly's men, the one we have chosen is not the one she would have us follow.” Miss Morningstar kept her nose firmly planted in her book as he said that.

  “And what way have you chosen exactly?” Baen thought he'd better find out since he had Fae standing openly in his store and the midday rush wasn't far away. But then he forgot about his question as he spotted a huge shaggy wolf walking into view just outside his store. One with a saddle on its back. It was a riding wolf! Until the battle, he hadn't seen one of them in over a decade! But he would guess that no one else in the city had seen one – well – ever! The locals had to be panicking. But on the other hand, it did explain how the Fae had gotten here so quickly after the battle if not why they had come. Riding wolves were fast. And if they were here, what about eagles? They were even faster.

  “Diplomacy,” the man informed him with an easy smile.

  Unfortunately, it didn't look like diplomacy to him, Baen thought when a second riding wolf walked by the window. It looked like intimidation. When a third one followed, this time with a rider on its back Baen almost put his head in his hands. He wasn't going to have any customers today!

  “Diplomacy?”

  “Within the terms of the Golden Concord, of course.”

  “Of course!” One day, Baen thought, he was going to have to pull out a copy of that ancient document and see exactly what it said. One day very soon! “But which particular terms would those be?”

  “Trade missions and diplomatic posts.”

  That didn't sound bad, Baen thought. Except that Fae on riding wolves didn't sound like any part of a Trading Mission to him, and he wasn't sure why one would come to Cedar Heights anyway. It was a small city, only fifty thousand people, and far from the commercial hub of Grenland. Surely they would want to set up in Greenfields? It boasted a population of more than a million people they could sell their wares to, plus it would also give them direct access to the King and the Royal Court. It was the capitol after all. He asked.

  “Of course, you're right” J'bel replied. “We have sent a diplomatic mission to Greenfields. And we're looking to establish trading missions in every city.”

  Baen's blood chilled when he heard that. And then it drained completely from his face as he realised what they were doing. They were dropping a small magical army, no matter what they called it, in every city of Grenland. It was tantamount to declaring war. But they were doing it in such a way that the King could never justify starting one. That didn't matter though. The people were going to be shocked and frightened. They would demand that something be done. Sooner or later violence would erupt. This was a disaster!

  For the life of him thought, Baen couldn't understand why the Fae would do such a thing. They simply weren't a warlike people and they weren't fools either.

  Worse than that, they were counting on trading diplomatic wits with King Richmond. What they didn’t understand however was that the King had only a passing acquaintance with the concept of reason, and blessed few diplomatic skills. Not that long before he had commanded that it be made a crime for bards to sing of any other kings but him and that anyone caught doing so would have a hand amputated. A lot of history had died that day. The chances that King Richmond would see this the way the Fae wanted him too, were small. The dice were not in their favour.

  “Dariya?” He didn't know how to explain that to his visitors or even to suggest it. But he had some hope that she might have an answer. After all, she'd obviously been with them for a while. She must have had the time to tell them that this was foolhardy at best. At worst, it could lead to war.

  “Don't look at me!” She didn't even raise her head, just kept staring at the open book in her hands. “I've told them that this is dangerous and foolish in equal measure. I explained that King Richmond had no part in the attack, and that he will likely view this sudden approach by the Fae as some sort of preparation for an unprovoked attack. Still, J'bel says that their actions are in accord with the terms of the Golden Concord, and he's correct. They say
they also have a plan.” Dariya shrugged helplessly. “So what do I know!”

  “But there are riding wolves in the streets?!” He couldn't believe she or her Order would allow that.

  “And eagles too. They're also riding animals. The Golden Concord makes no mention of them. Presumably therefore they can come, just as we here might travel to their realm by horse or,” she raised her eyebrows expressively, “wheeler. The Concord does talk about trade and diplomatic missions though. These are expressly permitted. Sadly, none were ever sent in either direction. The Concord also does not make any mention of how many would be permitted. I doubt though that when the Concord was written, the writers ever considered trade and diplomatic missions on a scale such as is being proposed.”

  Of course, there wasn't any mention! There had never been any thought that the Fae would want to create such Missions. Nor did the people of Grenland intend to. Neither of the people were great traders, and at the time the Golden Concord had been agreed, the world had been in pieces. Hundreds or thousands of years of war had left the world a ruin. Baen assumed it had just been one of those miscellaneous provisions stuck in for the sake of completeness. Just in case one day someone did decide to try it.

  “Miss Morningstar is correct,” J'bel responded. “We have studied the Golden Concord carefully to make sure we do not breach it in any way. And we do have a plan. A plan of commerce and conversation. Such as you yourself engage in.” He gestured at Baen's store.

  “Is this not a place where people come together and speak in friendship as they peruse your wares?”

  Not lately Baen thought! But he kept that to himself. As well as the fact that most of his customers preferred to study his books in silence. And for that matter the fact that they were in a book store – something the Fae wouldn't approve of. Instead he turned to practical matters.

  “You'll need a premises.”

  “And in fact just this morning we purchased the old linen mill in Willowbank Road. Our artisans are even now drawing up plans to convert it to our needs. Others are preparing trade goods. Rest assured, there will be no war. No violence. Nor any threats of violence. But in any case, that is not why we have come.”

  “Then?” He asked the question almost without thinking. Really his thoughts were on other matters, such as how they could possibly have arranged all this in eleven days. Less. And what their plan actually was.

  “We have come for you,” J'bel told him simply.

  “I … ah … What?” To say Baen was a little taken aback was an understatement.

  “Not you personally,” Amaru clarified. “We have come to find other favoured souls such as yourself. Those you call gifted.”

  “I see.” Actually he didn't see at all, and really, he was starting to develop a headache. Somehow he managed to keep from lowering his head and rubbing his eyes in front of his guests. Or from heading over to Dariya, picking up a random book from the top of the shelves, and pretending to read it like her while the others talked. “And you're coming for them, why?”

  “To offer them a home, of course.” J'bel smiled, and it actually seemed like a genuine one.

  “Uh huh,” Baen nodded as if he understood. “But will they want one? Most of those with gifts in Grenland already have places to live. They have jobs too. Why would they want to move to a distant land and learn to live an entirely different life just because it was offered?

  “Our seers have said that there are difficult times ahead for them. Our high priests and priestesses have said we must make the offer. It is our duty to cherish the gifts of the wild spirits.”

  Baen nodded, understanding the intention, though not convinced that their idea would find favour with anyone. Not even their own people. He saw problems with it. The first was the long-standing belief among the Fae that only those who came of their own volition to the Hallows could be welcomed as honoured guests or favoured souls. Those who didn't do that, failed a basic test. Their magic wasn't strong enough to overcome the ties in their lives that held them back. Their fears, commitments and comforts bound them. This removed that challenge and there would be some who would object. The second was of course that the King would not support what he would see as the Fae stealing away those among his people who had gifts. Never mind that he and no one else had ever believed that they mattered and in fact considered them as little more than madmen. If the Fae were taking them, then he would take the view that they had to be important after all.

  But there was a larger problem. Who would want to leave all that they knew, to go and live in a realm where everything was different. Where not only would they have to learn a new tongue, but they'd largely have to give up on all thoughts of coin and riches. Banthu was not the same as coin. You could only buy certain things with it. And there were no lords and ladies, no Court and no well heeled merchants. Instead those you bowed to were priests and master artisans. He couldn't imagine that many would choose to accept their offer.

  “We were told that you have others in your family with the gift,” added Amaru.

  “Ahh!” Suddenly Baen knew why they had come to see him. They thought that if there was one enchanter in the family there might be more. And whether or not his gift was the most powerful, he had proven himself useful. Hopefully therefore others in his family would have similarly useful gifts.

  “There are two, Aunt Millie and Grandpapa Nicholas. I'll talk to them.” But he already knew what their answers would be. Aunt Millie would be far too busy in her garden to even meet with the Fae. Though “garden: was perhaps too kind a word for what her yard had become. Her gift let her grow plants quickly, and she had used it to turn her entire yard into a jungle in the middle of the city. Just reaching her inside her cottage in the middle of the “garden” was likely to be a battle. As for his grandfather, no one knew what exactly his gift was. But it let him talk to the dead – something he seemed to dislike – which was why he had a small estate on the far side of the city and as far away from the cemetery as he could get. He wasn't going to leave his sanctuary to wander into the Hallows. As Baen had remarked to his sister not that long ago, the Walkertons were a family of madmen.

  “You have doubts about their answers?” Amaru picked up on his lack of enthusiasm.

  “No! None at all!” He sighed. “I know exactly what they'll say! My family is beset by the twin demons of magic and madness. Perhaps they are inextricably entwined? In my family they often seem to be the same thing. I have one grandfather who talks to ghosts and another who sees killers around every corner. Then there is my great uncle who talks to himself, and one of my aunts who just went riding naked through the streets of Cedar Heights, shooting a brace of pistols into the air. The other aunt can't seem to stop herself from growing delicate wee flowers and shrubs into a great jungle.”

  “But the one thing all of them have in common is that they never leave their home. I think it’s in our nature to stay close to our home. We find a place we're comfortable in, and then we burrow in! They won't join you.”

  Perhaps the most worrying thing of all was that he recognised that same instinct in himself. He had broken free of it for a time when he'd been young, but in the end he'd come back. And then he'd built himself his own burrow.

  Still, he thought to himself, that didn't excuse him from trying to do the best he could for others when he had the chance. Maybe he couldn't stop this – it was obviously too late for that – but he could at least try to help them not make too many mistakes.

  “Come on, we'll go upstairs to the garden and have some tea and discuss your plans in greater detail while enjoying the view over the city. And – oh, I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly looking at Dariya's companion and realising they hadn’t been in introduced. “I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.”

  “Reginald Merryman,” the man answered. “Friend of the Golden Concord.”

  “Well then Reginald, could you turn that sign in the window over so that it says closed, and then go and tell the others outside that if they
see a shorter, greying woman turn up at the door, that it's Mrs. Perkins here to do some cleaning. Ask them to tell her that today might not be the best time. I'll pay her for today when I see her next.”

  But even as Reginald went off to do as requested, Baen suspected that Mrs. Perkins wouldn’t show up. Not when there were wolves the size of ponies and strange but extremely well armed people outside the front of his store. She wasn't a fool.

  “If that would be acceptable to everyone?” He looked around and saw no objections and Reginald headed off to do exactly as he'd asked without any more prompting.

  “Come everyone. Please follow me and we can discuss this further in comfort.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was late and all Dariya wanted to do was go to bed. She didn't like this city. Not that Cedar Heights was a particularly bad place to be. But she'd had enough of it. And really she didn't like cities that much to begin with. She liked privacy and quiet. The sudden banging on the door to her room however, told that even the small amount of quiet she had hoped for wasn't going to be afforded to her this night.