Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1

by Edun, Terah

There was silence around the circle as they all took in the rather cryptic message. At last, Mary Windstorm asked, “Are they supposed to be that…vague?”

  “No,” replied Serena as she bit her lip. “In fact, these furballs aren’t supposed to be prophetic at all.” She looked like she was about to kick one of the furballs in question.

  Damias said brightly, “Well, at least they’ve confirmed that our girls have gifts—otherwise, the Rabiae wouldn’t have interacted with them.”

  Vana gave a unladylike snort. “We knew that before we hired these furballs and their trainers at four hundred shillings an hour.”

  Damias shot her an irritated look and then sighed as he rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Okay, let’s discuss this later.” He motioned for the trainers to re-cage the beasts.

  Teachene, Ciardis, Damias, Serena, Vana and Mary moved to sit back down at the table. With a last lingering glance at the other two cages which sat near the Rabiae’s blanketed ones, Ciardis followed sat down. She was wondering what was in them.

  “Now the real fun begins,” Vana said primly. “Bring the Cardiara!”

  The second set of cages was opened to reveal glass jars. In each jar was a small figure that emitted green sparks as it fluttered around its container. When the jars were deposited in the center of the table. Serena folded her hands, “We apologize for the accommodations, milord and milady. We would ask for your sign of honor before proceeding with the agreement.”

  The fey folded their arms in haughty disdain. Then the one on the left, the male, raised a finger and slowly traced out a large glyph on the interior surface of the glass jar. The female gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing.

  The glyph glowed brightly, and the adults around the table smiled in approval. Upon seeing this Serena directed her smile at the male fey, “Thank you sir, and welcome to the Companions Guild.”

  She reached forward and unfastened the lid on the male’s jar. He slowly floated out and settled on the tabletop. The trainers removed his empty jar and his companion’s from sight with her still inside. Damias said to the little man, “In return for your sign and honest opinion, we will free you into the Forest of Ameles, as you have requested.”

  The fey nodded curtly. “I am Mainar. Who would you have me assess?”

  Damias nodded to the two girls who sat across from him at the table.

  “Before you begin,” said Serena, “We would like to magically record this statement on a tobama ball.” The male Cardiara nodded his acceptance, turned, and narrowed his eyes as he took in Teachene and Ciardis in turn.

  Serena slipped a small tobama ball from her pocket and held it over the table in the palm of her hand. The translucent glass darkened to an opaque mist, indicating that it was recording the proceedings.

  “The one on the left is one of your bloody Weathervanes,” Mainar aid sharply. “She has inherited her mother’s power for enhancement and her father’s gift for calculation. The one on the right is a shifter of the Chimaera, able to temporarily assume any form she chooses.”

  Sighs of relief echoed around the table. Nodding to Mainar, Serena said, “We thank you for your grace and wisdom in this matter.” She signaled for the trainers to escort him out.

  Once they were alone, Mary said, “Well! This is excellent news, girls, and your prospective Patrons will be pleased.”

  Vana added, “The words of the Cardiara have been used as binding contracts since before the Initiate Wars.” With grudging acknowledgement of Serena’s gifts, Vana continued, “As a project Companion Serena will be able to project Mainar’s announcement of your gifts to a conclave of prospective patrons.”

  Damias and Mary then reached into their pockets for a folded sheet of paper. Damias deferred to Mary, saying, “Milady, if you please.”

  A small smile graced Mary’s thin face as she leaned forward with eagerness. “Teachene, four of the finest lords in the city of Sandrin have already petitioned for the right to your contract.”

  “These four are among the select few we considered most worthy of your talents,” said Vana, “They will be given favorable position to impress upon you their merits at the dance and initial presentation.”

  “But remember this is your choice,” Mary said, “We will advise you upon who we think are the best candidates financially, politically, and aesthetically, but it is you who must make the final decision.”

  Damias said, “Yes. Make no mistake: the dancing, the practicals, and the pretty gowns are fabulous. But you will sign a binding contract with this person. They will care for you as their own. After all, even in the dissolution of a contract, companions are entitled to monthly payments for life.”

  Each of the sponsors and tutorials were looking with seriousness at Ciardis and Teachene to impress upon them the gravity of becoming a companion.

  With a sharp nod, Mary Windstorm continued, “Teachene, your prospective patrons are Lord Karias of Nardes, Prince Heir Simeon of Sandrin, Viscount Marke of Mutlin, and Lord Varre of Sandrin.”

  “In preparation for the Patron Hunt you’ll be given a binder detailing each Patron’s family history, their lands, their wealth, and their persona,” said Vana smoothly, “You are expected to give this information your full consideration.”

  “Of course, Lady Vana,” replied Teachene, her eyes downcast.

  “Ciardis, your considerable talents have attracted the interest of six candidates,” said Damias. She blinked in surprise upon hearing the number.

  “Any of whom we’d be proud to welcome as patrons to the Companions Guild,” said Serena.

  “These candidates are the Viscount Iskas of Marce,” began Damias.

  “A minor noble of little repute,” Vera interjected.

  “A minor noble with wealthy coffers,” rebutted Serena.

  “Ladies, please,” Damias said. “The others are General Barnaren of Principas Vale, Initiate Soundsoar of the Madrassa, Princess Heir Marissa of Sandrin, Archduke Clarin of Vaneis—”

  At the announcement of the Archduke’s name, Teachene grasped Ciardis’s hands in excitement and gasped aloud. Ciardis returned her grin and looked back to Damias to hear the last name.

  Damias smiled, aware that the Archduke hailed from Ciardis’s home province. He continued, “And Lord Mage Meres Kinsight.”

  Ciardis’s mind was awhirl with what she already knew about her prospective Patrons, and she felt certain that Teachene was no less preoccupied.

  “For the both of you,” continued Serena, “we have drafted an announcement to be delivered at the conclave of prospective patrons in two weeks.”

  Serena cleared her throat and began reading from a piece of paper.

  “On behalf of the Companion’s Guild, we welcome you, milords and miladies, to the conclave on behalf of Ciardis Weathervane and Teachene Kithwalker.”

  Ciardis and Teachene looked at each other with raised eyebrows at their new titles, but declined to interrupt.

  “This is an auspicious occasion, as we plan for the debut of two of our finest companion trainees as they come of age. Participants in the Patron Hunt of the two aforementioned candidates will be housed in the Duke of Carne’s villa off the palace grounds. We look forward to your attendance in celebration of these young women, who we are proud to call our own.”

  “That is all for today,” said Vana while she glanced at the position of the mid-afternoon sun. “You are both to spend the remaining six weeks studying those binders day and night in preparation.”

  “Though, of course,” said Mary Windstorm, “you are also expected to continue your work on your tutorials, as well.”

  The two young women nodded, took the binders, and exited quickly.

  Chapter 8

  Ciardis had very few days off from her tutorials instructions with Damias and Lady Serena. With the
start of the Patron Hunt only days away they had been adamant about practicing as much as possible. Even with her time off from tutorials she still had to study the history and backgrounds of her potential suitors. So today she sat in the library, her head resting on the palm of her hand as she traced the letters on the page, occasionally glancing at the dictionary next to her to check the definition of a particularly difficult word.

  This time she was studying the history and exploits of General Barnaren’s kin. A militaristic family from Principas Vale—a region to the west of Sandrin known for its many olive groves—his family had led many Imperial military campaigns, including the small skirmishes now being fought in the North.

  Ciardis smiled as she looked at the portrait of his face while focusing on the hard, chiseled angles and stormy gray eyes. He was older than her other candidates, with more than twenty years on her, but she wouldn’t expect anything less of the Commanding General of the Imperial Army. His powers lay in fire conjuring, and Lord Cannon, Lady Serena’s patron, was his second-in-command. General Barnaren had been known to call giant red wolves of fire to his side in battle.

  She continued reading, wondering why he had not yet taken a wife; at age thirty-seven, it was prudent for him to have a family and secure an heir considering the large tracts of land his family commanded in Principas Vale. Then she turned the page and saw that he had been married, to a healer of great skill. She had died in battle at Marin Ridge.

  Beneath this text was a little pocket containing a note, emblazoned with the inscription, “For the eyes of the Companion’s Guild only.” Curiously, she opened it, rationalizing that if it was in the binder, it must be for her.

  From Sarah, Head Archivist, Companion’s Guild

  In efforts to prepare companion trainee Ciardis Weathervane (née Vane until assumption of her 18th Birthday and approval from the Talents Guild) I have spoken to the head archivist of the family of Principas Vale.

  General Barnaren is not only in search of a Companion, but also a wife, one who will bear him at least one child, of either sex, within a three-year period. This is to assure the security of his line and the succession of his mage spirit’s path in the event of his death in battle.

  With these stipulations, if Ciardis will consider him as a Prospective Patron, she must be prepared to undergo a full health screening and fertility assessment by a Sahelian midwife.

  A second note on a separate sheet followed.

  Arten Simas, Principas Vale Archivist

  Upon successful birth of the first child, the Companion of General Barnaren will be granted the status of Wife, an annual stipend of five times the initial stipend agreement, and lands of her choosing in Principas Vale.

  Ciardis sat back to think. There was much to consider here. She’d thought about all the responsibilities she’d assume as Lady of a manor, or even multiple manors in an area as large as a Vale, and she knew that her enhancement powers would be needed by her Patron in various capacities. However, before beginning her study of the Patron binders, she had not considered childbirth. At least, not until she was older - much older. She frowned, deciding to discuss the matter with Lady Serena at a later date, and stood, stretching her arms wide. She’d been in the library all morning.

  To her surprise, just as she stood, around the corner came Lady Sarah. “Hello, Ciardis,” said Sarah, whose hair was streaked with bright shades of green.

  Ciardis murmured a polite response. Sarah turned to look over the pile of documents that sat on the library table—family charts going back many generations, binders of prospective Patrons, analects of the famous Mages of the Madrassa, and histories of the noble families of Sandrin, Principas, and Vaneis. She gave Ciardis a wry smile as she said, “I remember the long nights of studying for my choice. Ream upon ream of birthdates, deaths, and family patronage.” She shuddered delicately.

  Ciardis looked at her curiously. “Whom did you ultimately decide upon as your patron?”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile. “I declined them all.”

  Ciardis gasped, her eyes wide with surprise as she stuttered, “W-why?”

  “I already had the best job in the world, and none of the libraries of my prospective Patrons could hold a candle to this one,” Sarah swept her hand out to indicate the large and beautiful multi-floor library. It was built largely of maple, all varnished to a mellow shine. “How could I give this up?” she asked almost to herself.

  Ciardis stared, wondering if she would ever find anything that she loved as much as Sarah did her chosen profession. Perhaps…

  “Now, enough of this sentimental reminiscing! Pack up your things and come with me. Quickly, quickly,” Sarah added. Ciardis did as she was told, and she soon had two scrolls stuffed under one arm and a satchel strapped across her back that was filled with books.

  As they left the library, Sarah said, “Tonight is your eighteenth birthday, and you have less than two weeks before your Patron Hunt.”

  Ciardis nodded with a gulp. She’d been trying not to think about that. She said, “Yes, milady,” as they dodged servant girls. The girls were rushing in multiple directions – arms filled with flower arrangements, huge bundles of pretty fabric, and what looked suspiciously like a very tall cake.

  Sarah nodded, then pulled a small round orb out of her dress pocket as they entered a square room on the other side of the palace. “This is the Memory Room. It was used by Royal Consorts to lock in the memories of young princes and princesses as they transitioned from childhood to adulthood,” Sarah paused, “There is a different room for the memories of reigning monarchs.”

  As they entered the empty room, the door clanged shut behind them. Ciardis saw that the entire room was decorated in midnight blue, with pale geometric designs etched onto the surfaces of every wall. No furniture was in the room, and Ciardis’ skirt raised no dust as they walked to the center of the room. Upon reaching the middle Ciardis noted a small depression in the floor, which Sarah and then Ciardis knelt before.

  “In my hands, I hold a memory ball,” Sarah told Ciardis. “It records memories from participants, and keeps them safe for future use.” She set the memory ball in the depression. “Each mage family, including yours keeps a memory ball to imprint ancestral transitions and convey the descendant’s transition to their powers,” Sarah explained while looking down at the orb, “Only those with a sympathetic touch can activate a memory ball, and we can only store new memories in conjunction with a projector such as Serena.”

  She smiled at Ciardis. “Several of our mage families have left their memory balls in the Guild’s care as they have died out, or for safekeeping.” She touched the still orb before them. “This is the memory ball of the Weathervane family.” With a regretful sigh, Sarah continued, “Because of the way the memories are transferred to the memory balls, once stored, only a descendant can view them.”

  They both stood and Sarah straightened out her skirts. “As such, I will leave you to learn about your inherent powers. Your powers should arrive on the midnight bell of the morrow, the first day of your eighteenth year.”

  Sarah continued, “Of course, that’s usually true of set skills that are non-elemental in origin.”

  “Non-elemental?” questioned Ciardis.

  “Powers that are restricted to one talent. Some children develop talents over the elements, such as wind and fire or even healing, which requires training from a very young age, instead of one skill,” said Sarah.

  Ciardis had the slight suspicion that Sarah didn’t approve of such powers.

  Probably thinks they’d burn her library down around her, she thought.

  Sarah put a finger to her lips in thought. “Weathervane heritage has always been unpredictable, though.”

  “What should I expect?” Ciardis asked, a little worried.

  With a frown, Sarah said,
“The transition may be uncomfortable, but I can’t say for sure. Transitions are specific to each mage family. After I leave, you’ll be able to activate the memory ball due your bloodright. The room itself will act as a conduit and a power source.”

  Sarah waved her hand and suddenly a door appeared in the wall to their right. “To make sure the overnight adjustment to your talents goes well, you will stay in the bedroom beyond that door. I’ll make sure a maid brings you meals, and Serena will come to you tomorrow to test your skills. Any questions?”

  Ciardis did a slight curtsy, and said, “No.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  With that, Sarah swept out of the room, locking the door behind her.

  Ciardis contemplated the silvery orb in the depression for a long moment. Then, deciding it was now or never—she’d been waiting months for the off chance that her powers would come in after all—she nicked her finger with a hairpin. She carefully lowered her bleeding finger to tap the ball’s gleaming surface and then watched with wide eyes as the silver absorbed the liquid, leaving no trace of red on its surface.

  At first, nothing seemed to happen, and she had time to wonder if she should squeeze out a larger dollop of her lifeblood, but suddenly, a humming sound began to fill the room. It grew louder and louder as the orb rose slowly into the air. Streaks of blue lightning sizzled down from the ceiling and rose from the floor to meet the orb’s glimmering exterior.

  Ciardis stumbled back hastily, almost tripping on her own skirt. The humming had stopped, but the orb crackled with live fire across its surface. She frowned. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  There was no answer from the pulsing lightning and arcing fire in the center of the room. Ciardis looked around hoping for a manual or display to pop up somewhere.