by Gavin Green
***
Present
As he stood under the high dome of the pillared pavilion, Devlin Ryder remembered the first time he was in the center of that circular construct, surrounded by nine seated elders. He'd felt awed and honored on that first occasion, called for by the Circle of Prudence to act as magistrate to enforce one of the few laws of the Lore.
In times since, he continued to mete out justice in what he thought was admirable fashion when called upon, and the Circle was always satisfied with the outcomes. Being requested yet again to do their bidding, Devlin now felt undaunted by his surroundings, and had fostered a haughty pride at his social standing.
The proud Devlin was unaware that his ascending vanity was built upon hollow stairs. Objectively, his results were merely adequate for the Circle, but the requests for his repeated presence came from a biased elder.
Even though Devlin was of the fair folk and not a dryad like Saraid, she favored him. She considered him capable for the missions he was assigned, and an adequate and covert lover, but it was mostly because Devlin could keep his mouth shut. Any additional efforts that she privately asked of him for a given task were accepted in clandestine fashion and seen to without question. For Saraid, Devlin's pride was only matched by his lust; his weakness of her charms made for a useful tool.
Devlin stood relaxed but alert on the polished stones of the pavilion floor, absently noting the surrounding landscape of wild fields and distant woods. The gathering of the Circle was always on a random piece of neutral ground, never on the holdings of any elder. The whole of the pavilion - floor, pillars, and dome - were of white marble veined with gold, which held a simple grandeur. The structure only came into being when a gathering was required, and acted as a beacon for whichever elders would be claiming a seat.
Although there were nine areas for seats to signify the nine races of fae, it was uncommon that one member from each race was present; a few races occasionally chose not to bother themselves with a gathering, or simply had no elders available at that time. Those vacant spots were filled by other elders of varying race, asked by the majority to have a voice in the proceedings. Most considered it an honor, to some a duty, and only a few saw the request as an inconvenience.
And so Devlin waited patiently as the last of the Circle arrived to take their seats. Tall and slender, with straight lemon-colored hair that reached his waist, he adjusted the black robes under his intricately-detailed lacquered oak armor. Devlin stood tall and confident under the scrutiny of the Nine, his long tapered ears alert for any hushed conversations before formal commencement, his lavender eyes respectfully but boldly returning the gaze of any intent onlookers.
Most of the elders in attendance were vaguely familiar to Devlin; only a few did he know by name. The powerful sprite, Egon Soulsinger, with his wavy chocolate-colored hair and huge coral eyes, was known to all. If there were to be a high lord of Lore, as some hoped, then Egon would be many a fae's candidate. Two seats along was the bulky and somber Ragnar of the Red Rock, who wore the look of the weary. His presence in the Circle was uncommon, but his reputation as a traveler and warrior was highly respected. Last known to Devlin, and intimately, was Saraid Moon Maiden. Gorgeous, clever, and dangerous - it was a combination hard for most fae to resist. It was she who called the Circle into session.
The beautiful dryad elder sat reclined in her fur-lined chair and spoke the first words of formality. "The Circle of Prudence has been gathered. Let a voice be heard."
The sprite Egon stood from his simple stone seat, somewhat short in stature but powerful in bearing. Straightening his simple vermilion toga, his melodic voice carried easily through the pavilion. "There have been breaches of the Enigma. Localized mortals have learned of the fae, and allowed to go unchecked. Even marginal glimpses are not allowed, or at least must be sanctioned. This must be contained, if not reversed. Agreed?"
There were nods of approval, accompanied with a few voiced consents. As Egon sat, a Drommen (the secretive and sight-gifted race of fae) stood. He was tall and gaunt, draped in layers of black that covered most of his bluish grey skin. Only a thin, wide mouth under a long hawk nose could be seen under his lowered hood. With hands tucked into the opposite sleeves, he quietly said, "The breaches have been sensed about the village of Ballaghadaere, in the land of Eire. Search for one of my race, Enochia Eversight, who will be obliged to assist your search. Her haven is secluded, so call upon low caste to fetch her. There are pixies, dryads, and gnomes who roam that area."
Saraid remained seated as she gave further instruction to Devlin. "A bridge to that Verden locale will be afforded to you for this task. It will lead you to a wild pocket of land that is favored by those lesser creatures. Do what you must within our laws to protect and enforce the Enigma."
'What an adventure this might be', the Fair fae thought - not just a single culprit to bring to heel, but an entire village! Devlin nodded, and then with a slight grin, asked, "And in return?"
A voice behind the appointed magistrate cleared his throat. By the sound, Devlin assumed it to be feminine, and turned to face her. A dwarfish Tinker sat in a squat but elaborate pine chair. She was plump, as most Tinkers were, with a grey bun of hair, pleasant face, and wore a simple fallow gown. With a soft, high voice, she answered, "Should you hold estate in the Lore, a bridge to a Verden location of your choice, within reason, will be created for you. Should you have no lands here, a minor haven in any Verden locale, again within reason, will be constructed for you."
Following protocol, Devlin bowed to each elder. As Egon was the voice of the Circle on this occasion, Devlin faced him afterwards. "I accept the duty and the offered recompense. I am appreciative, elders, to again prove my worth."
With that, the gathering had concluded. Some elders vanished immediately, while a few others lingered in discussion. Devlin strolled out from under the pavilion, where his steed was picketed nearby. It was essentially a Verden-style horse; it had a silky, midnight-black hide, but its mane, tail, and feather (tuft of hair around its hooves) were bright yellow. Before Devlin mounted his gaudy steed to embark upon the quest, he saw Saraid approach, and waited.
She ran a small, delicate hand along the steed's nose and spoke quietly. "Be on your guard, Devlin. The Drommen elder, Crios, whispered cautionary words."
The Fair fae stopped checking his saddlebag. "Is that so? And might I inquire how elder Crios came to have your ear in private?"
'By the elements, his insecure banter is becoming tedious', Saraid thought. She fixed her eyes on his. "Your concern should be what those words are, and thankful that I have deigned to pass them along to you."
Devlin bowed his head, while still inwardly suspicious. "I offer my apologies, and my appreciation." He raised his eyes back to hers. "May I ask the nature of this warning?"
"There are elders in the area you journey to."
He smiled smugly. "That does little to warrant my caution. All fae involved are bound to serve the demands of a magistrate." Devlin was enjoying Saraid's performance; under that vain exterior was a gentle heart. He could sense the underlying current of her personal worry for him. While he found it touching, it was better to let her keep up the charade, however transparent.
"Even so," Saraid went on, "all fae have their own agendas, elders especially so. Crios also stated that his far-sight was clouded in respect to that area of the Verden."
"Meaning… what?"
Saraid barely succeeded from rolling her eyes. "It means that the machinations of glamour are already in play. This may not be as simple as finding the appropriate mortals and fogging their memories."
Devlin smiled again as he placed a booted foot in a stirrup and swung up on his steed. "I will heed your words. Is there anything you personally require of me?"
She elegantly slid to the side of the large black beast, and began absently running a delicate finger along the scrollwork of his greaves. "Send message to me naming those involved of the Enigma's breach, and I shall o
ffer my own personal reward."
Devlin bowed in his saddle. "As you wish, milady," he replied with a glint in his eyes.
Saraid watched as Devlin sprinted away across the neutral ground, and came to a decision by the time he was just a dark blob on the horizon. His growing arrogance was souring her favoritism, and she might lose status if she continued to back someone who might soon offend other elders. Perhaps Devlin Ryder's usefulness was coming to an end. Hopefully, his own overconfidence would put him in a precarious position. Better that someone else inadvertently did the dirty work for her.
