by Philip Blood
Niler continued, "Perhaps I have been too lenient, and it's my fault. Shall I order my own head struck from my body? Indeed, perhaps it IS my failure? Have you any idea what you have done? Half this day has been spent in search of you. Rescue parties have gone out and an emergency meeting of the council has pondered what enemy might have abducted or killed you. Was it some horrid Drakwolf assassin? Perhaps a Togroth killing party had you roasting on a spit? Had some unnamed rival of your family removed the final link to the Trelic line? No, you were on holiday, without a word to anyone, without a single guard, without a single brain in your head. Well, I'll tell you this, Gandarel Trelic, you will rue this day! I will not fail my responsibility to your father!"
Gandarel tried to keep the tears in, but two escaped, cutting canyons through the caked filth on his cheeks. His head was hung so low his chin rested against his chest.
He wanted to say, "If you had given me time to be a boy, perhaps I wouldn't have had to sneak out and cause all this trouble," but his tongue felt thick with shame.
"Go to your room and wash that filth off. Have those clothes disposed of and then meditate upon your sins. There will be no supper for you tonight and by tomorrow, you had better be able to quote, word for word, the first three pages of the merchant's law, chapter four."
The merchant's law book was one of the driest books Gandarel had ever studied, Niler knew he hated to even read it, let alone memorize pages of the legal language.
Gandarel nodded slightly and started toward his room.
Niler spoke before he could leave. "I had better send someone to watch over your trip to your rooms, who knows if you might decide to sneak off again and cause more anguish." He beckoned someone forward with a wave of his hand.
With a glance, Gandarel recognized Enolive, the bone skinny councilman.
"Enolive," Niler ordered, "escort the child to his chambers."
The other council member moved up from behind Gandarel and took the small boy by the upper arm to guide him in the direction of his chambers. Gandarel hardly noticed the cold grip of his fingers.
Once they were around the first corner away from Niler, Enolive released his arm and Gandarel was shocked to hear a quiet dry chuckle from the bony councilman.
"I haven't seen old Niler in such a rage in quite some time; did you see how red his face had become?" Enolive asked with amusement in his voice.
Gandarel was speechless.
"You can relax; I'm not here to berate you. Unlike Niler, I still remember what it was like to be a boy. What you did was still wrong, though..."
Gandarel's surprise abated somewhat; he figured the lecture from Enolive was now forthcoming.
"... you should have done it a different way."
"What?" Gandarel blurted out, looking over at the bony head of Enolive, the man's white skin always seemed thin and stretched, but right now the mouth was showing a toothy smile Gandarel had never seen there before.
"You cannot just disappear without anyone knowing what happened to you, people get in an uproar! You are the heir to the second highest seat in the land, my boy," the councilman reminded him, poking him in the side with a bony finger for emphasis. "What you should do is tell them you need a certain amount of time set aside for yourself."
"They wouldn't let me, Sar Corbin would definitely forbid it; he considers my time to be his time."
"He cannot stop you, my boy. You see, even though you are too young to take the Seat right now you still have certain rights and powers. As heir no single councilman can overrule you, only a unanimous vote of the council can do that, and only until you take the Seat."
"Are you sure?" Gandarel exclaimed.
Enolive smiled. "You really should look at those law books that Niler keeps trying to coax you into reading, they explain this very clearly. When we get to your chambers I'll point out the very chapter and you can read it for yourself. But mind you, Niler will try to overpower you by sheer will; however, as long as you have one friend in the council he has little real power over you."
Gandarel sighed and said, "The council will just follow whatever he asks for anyway, and they will overrule me."
"Don't forget, I am a council member. Without my vote, they cannot overrule you. If you ask reasonably for some time to be set-aside for yourself I promise that I will back you up. I would say that three days a week your classes should end by noon. I wouldn't call that unreasonable."
Gandarel was nearly speechless, and as promised Enolive showed him the chapter in one of the law books that covered the powers of the heir to the Seat.
Mara's method of discipline was much more direct; she grabbed Aerin by his ear and led him straight across the Inn courtyard to a horse trough, where she promptly pushed him in. He came up sputtering from the cold shock of the water, but as soon as he had a breath she pushed him under again. After his third dunking, she let him clamor out. He looked very much like a drowned rat, his hair hanging straight down in his face.
"Just when I thought I could trust you the first thing you do is disappear in a strange city for hours, only to turn up covered in who knows what!” she fumed.
"I'm sorry, Mara, I met some boys and they were showing me the city, but then we got in Skulls Town, and we were chased, and Lor yelled thief and we ran and had to hide in the sewers..." he rambled, water sputtering from his lips.
Again Mara grabbed one of the twin handles attached to the side of his head and dragged him toward the Inn. "We have a few rules we are going to discuss now so there aren't any further misunderstandings. I can see that I've been too easy on you. I was worried about how you were handling your grief, but if you have the desire to get in trouble… well, I suppose you've recovered enough. First rule: I'm the boss; you always do as I say. Second rule: you're always home by dark. Third rule: you tell me where you're going, and when you'll be back, and IF I decide that you can go, I'll let you know. Fourth rule: don't forget who your friends are, worry makes them really mad. Break the rules once and you'll be punished, break the rules again and I'll turn you over to an orphanage. Got it?” she exclaimed, swinging the wincing boy around by his ear to face her.
With wide eyes, Aerin nodded his assent.
"Good!” she exclaimed, and then hugged him to her body. "I thought we'd lost you."
"I... I'm sorry, Mara, it didn't seem like a long time, but I promise that I'll never make you worry again."
Mara grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to arm’s length so she could look into his eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep, especially to friends," but this time she brushed the wet hair out of his eyes and gave him a little smile, the thin lines in her skin crinkling even more.
"Am I really your friend, Mara?” he asked in a small voice.
She considered the young boy before her and the courage in which he had handled the loss of his parents, the honesty in his eyes touched her and she had a sudden feeling. "Yes, Aerin, you and I are friends, and we are destined to be great friends," but then her face turned stern again. "But don't you forget my rules!"
"I won't, Mara, and I really am sorry."
Mara nodded. "I know you are, Aerin. Now let's get you dried off and put to bed, it's been a long day."
Gandarel stopped outside the council hall and worked up his courage. He had just decided to forget his whole plan when he saw Councilman Corbin coming around the corner.
"And who gave you leave to come out of your room?" the councilman asked, gray bushy eyebrows rising in question.
That pushed Gandarel over the top; he opened the door to the council chambers and entered without answering Niler.
"Gandarel Trelic, I asked you a question!" Niler exclaimed, following him into the chamber.
The remaining eight council members were already inside the room and seated around the wide rectangular table.
Gandarel's voice cracked a little as he answered meekly. "I'm here to address the council."
Again he hovered on the edge of his fear, thinking about lea
ving quickly, but Enolive caught his eye and gave him a slight nod of reassurance.
Gandarel held onto the reins of his fear.
"So you're here to apologize for your behavior, well, get on with it," Niler exclaimed, taking his seat at the head of the council table.
Gandarel went to the opposite end and stood, facing the group of expectant faces.
"Yes, I am here to apologize for my causing you worry today, it won't happen again," he said with eyes downcast.
The men all nodded.
Niler spoke in a condescending tone. "Fine, boy, we will consider it a closed matter, but you will still recite the pages I assigned you tomorrow, so you had best go back to your room and get on with your penance."
Niler's tone struck a chord in Gandarel and he raised his eyes to take in the table of men. "I'm not through, yet," he said a little louder, a dose of his father's famous anger spreading through his veins.
Niler just raised those bushy eyebrows at him again.
"I am sorry, but I am also not completely to blame. You called me a boy, and yes that's what I am, and it's high time I had a chance to be a boy."
Niler's glare deepened.
"From here on I want three afternoons a week to use as I see fit; to be 'a boy' as you put it. At other times, I will continue to take your instruction, as my father would have desired."
Niler shook his head. "Completely out of the question, perhaps if you hadn't pulled this stunt today an hour or so a week could have been arranged..."
"I want three afternoons a week," Gandarel repeated.
Niler stood. "I said no."
"As heir to the Seat of Stone it is my command," Gandarel almost whispered, but he got it out past his wildly beating heart.
"What… who has put this nonsense into your head? Until such time as you take the Seat the council shall decide what is best for you!"
"No, the council is only in support of me, though I understand you can override my decisions if you choose," Gandarel explained, then added, “You may read it if you like,” and he opened the book he had brought with him to the marked page and passed it down.
Niler looked it over briefly. "I am familiar with it, boy; don't try to teach your teachers. You argue a moot point, yes you can decree, but I overrule, and that's the end of it."
Again Enolive gave him a slight nod and a wink, encouraging the young heir.
Gandarel swallowed and then answered Niler Corbin. "Only a unanimous vote can overrule me."
"Fine," Niler said, glowering. "All in favor of overruling this ridiculous notion say, `Aye'."
There was a chorus of Ayes around the table.
"Now get back to your chambers and start reading..."
Niler was interrupted. "I say `Nay'," Enolive proclaimed. "The boy is within his rights to have some time to himself."
Niler was speechless.
"Thank you,” Gandarel said in acceptance of his win, “I will now retire to my chambers. Tomorrow will start my first day of afternoon free time. Good night all," Gandarel gave them the proper quarter bow reserved for esteemed colleagues as taught by his protocol instructor, then he wheeled around and walked out with his head high, once the door closed he gave a whoop of glee.
Inside the council room, the boy's yell was clearly heard.
"I hope you're ready to explain your actions," Niler said grimly to Enolive.
"I have nothing to explain. The boy was within his rights and wasn't asking for more than was reasonable. Now shall we get on with other business?" Enolive asked innocently in the face of Niler’s anger.
Aerin awoke to the low sound of voices in the room. He realized he had been hearing them for some time in that stage between being asleep and fully awake.
"...but you've told me before, the Prophecy is often vague, how can you help it along when even you don't know what it means?" Tocor asked, and the large Quarian's voice was deep and gravelly.
Mara answered him. "I’m fairly sure of this part, Gandarel is the one. 'Son of Warlord and future NexLord', is fairly obvious. We must get that boy under my instruction soon; he is already at the age where I must begin."
Aerin cracked an eyelid and saw Mara's gray hair; she was sitting with her back to him. Tocor sat across from her with his arms crossed on the table. Aerin shifted slightly, trying to get a look at Tocor's hands, he still had not seen them. The Quarian usually kept them within the long sleeves of his cloak.
Mara noted Aerin’s slight movement even though he was behind her chair.
"Good morning, Aerin," she said pleasantly.
He greeted them both and sat up stretching. "Mara, do I have 'chores'?” he asked. His role within Mara's group was still unknown to him, and he wanted to have time to meet his new friends.
Mara turned to consider the boy. "I've never raised a child before, let me consider. What is your ambition in life, Aerin?" she asked abruptly.
Aerin was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Mara turned her chair so she could look at him more comfortably. "When you have grown to a man what do you wish to do with your life?"
"Father told me I was going to be a scholar, like him."
Mara frowned a little. "That's a worthy goal, to be sure, yet is that what you desire?"
The boy rubbed at his sleep encrusted eyes. "I'm not sure, but it's what my father wanted."
"Aerin," Tocor suddenly barked, "catch!" and tossed an apple at the boy, it came at a fast pace.
Aerin caught it just before it struck his chest.
Tocor's hand had already moved back within the robe before Aerin thought to look at it.
"He has good reflexes and coordination, Mara," Tocor noted.
"Indeed," she replied. "Perhaps... Aerin?” she asked, interrupting herself.
"Yes, Mara?"
"Just for fun, if you could do anything in the whole world, be anyone, with any skill, what would you do?"
Aerin thought for a moment. "I'd have friends like Ragol did, and we'd be the best fighters in the land, then we'd stop the Togroths from killing any more people."
Tocor glanced at Mara with amusement in his eyes.
Mara scowled. "Ragol, Ragol, that's all I ever hear."
"He was the greatest NexLord to ever live; he stopped the Togroths and the Dreadmaster!" Aerin exclaimed.
"Ragol was a fool," Mara noted.
Aerin was shocked; the Legendary Ragol had been his hero for as long as he could remember. "He was not! Nobody listened to him... they were the fools! If he was alive in this age he would have done something about the Togroths and maybe my parents might still be alive!"
"Ragol was a fool because he believed people would listen to his warnings because of who he was, and when they didn't he grew angry, like a fool. But enough of the past, that happened over three hundred years ago, we were talking about your future. I'll consider what you've said and we'll start your instruction soon if you want it. As far as chores, eventually I'll have some for you, but for now, you have it easy. Just remember, don't stray away unless you get permission from Tocor, Yearl or me."
"I will, Mara, but is Yearl coming back?" Aerin asked, wondering about the disappearance of the lavender man who had planted the strange trees at his parent's grave.
Aerin nearly leaped out of his skin when Yearl's soft voice spoke from his left."
"Where do you think I've been, young Aerin?” the lavender man asked.
Aerin's heart was bouncing around within his chest, seemingly trying to find a way out of his rib cage. "How did you do that?" he finally blurted out.
Yearl shrugged. “Do what?”
Aerin would have sworn that Yearl wasn’t there a moment ago and seemed to appear out of nowhere when he spoke. Aerin wondered how he had not noticed the willowman before.
"I'll be gone till late afternoon," Mara continued, her voice showing no surprise at Yearl's presence, "as I must procure housing for us; we can't stay at this Inn forever."
The chair creaked as Tocor's heavy weight lifted when
he stood up.
"Aerin," the large man rumbled," I need to purchase some leather; you may come with me if you like."
Aerin scrambled out of bed.
"Eat something," Mara noted, stopping him mid-stride.
Aerin scooped up the apple Tocor had tossed at him earlier and then followed the Quarian out the door.
Tocor put up his deep hood before they reached the street, and he carried his smooth gray staff like a large walking stick. Aerin almost had to run to keep up with the wide stride of the tall Quarian.
The boy was almost disappointed when he caught a glimpse of Tocor's black-gloved hand where he gripped his staff. The fingers seemed to be of normal human shape.
They had only gone a few blocks when Aerin noticed his friend Darel coming up the street. "Look, Tocor, there's Darel. He’s one of the friends I met yesterday at the Inn." Aerin raised his arm to wave when he noticed two Guardsmen following a pace behind Darel; they almost seemed to be following the boy.
His cry of welcome died on his lips, he wondered if Darel had broken his word and gone to a Guardsman about the murder. Darel had made it plain he thought that was the proper course of action.
Tocor's bronze gaze took in the fine clothing that Darel wore, and the two Guardsmen. He could tell by the way the Guardsmen watched the crowd, and how they positioned themselves compared to the boy that the guards were assigned to protect, not apprehend the young boy.
"Who is your friend?" Tocor asked, with far more interest than he showed.
"I don't know a lot about him, but he lives in the city. I think he comes from a wealthy part of town," Aerin guessed, remembering the many coins Darel had displayed while paying for the sweets. He had to smile remembering the way Lor's eyes had nearly bulged from his face at the sight of those coins.
"Indeed," Tocor responded, his interest piqued.
Darel and the Guardsmen turned a corner without seeing Aerin and were soon lost to sight.
Tocor motioned with his staff, and they started off again toward the shops.
As they turned the corner at the end of the block a small knot of people could be seen a few steps ahead, they seemed to be gathered around something to the side of the road. Whatever captivated their attention was blocked from Aerin's sight by the backs of the watching spectators.
