Seventh Born

by Rachel Rossano

  He nodded to me. “That I shall. We are not going to change anything that has been decided up until now. The Mesitas’s statements have been duly noted. Hadrian Aleron is Sept Son and shall remain so. Of the accusations and reasons brought before this council, I have heard none of them that give me cause to believe that Master Aleron incapable of fulfilling the demands of his new position.”

  I bowed and returned to my place. I could feel the Mesitas’s eyes boring into my back. Though the man wasn’t a trained talent, he was sending a message loud and clear.

  I knew that I would face opposition, Father. Please give me wisdom, patience, and strength to triumph in Your name.

  The council moved on to other topics. Korneli’s nutty taste flooded my senses. “He isn’t going to give up,” he pointed out.

  “I know. But he now knows he is going to have to dig a lot deeper and form a stronger argument than that one.”

  “Should I go warn your parents?”

  I thought of father’s pride in me and my brothers, his steadfast faith that I tried to emulate. “That would be wise. It won’t change anything, except he will be prepared when the Mesitas’ cronies begin poking around.”

  “I will leave immediately.”

  “Thank you.” I did not turn to watch my old friend rise and begin to make his way toward the door. Our fathers were friends until his father’s death fifteen years ago. He moved in with us, and he and I were brothers in all but blood. I knew I could count on him to support me and my family.

  I turned my attention back to the discussion at hand. Crop production was down in the northern kingdoms. I sighed silently. As Sept Son, I could offer nothing to this debate. However, with my extensive knowledge as a Proctor’s son, I could. I kept my council to myself, as Neleck had warned me. The position of Sept Son was highly ornamental when it came to meetings with the High King and the Council of Kings. Outside the meeting room, though, the job was hands on and crucial. In God’s providence, my first week was going to be primarily the former.

  I settled back and looked for Tavey’s mind. We could at least use the time productively and discuss our defensive strategy against the Mesitas. Korneli was correct; the old high priest was going to be a formidable enemy.

  Zezilia

  FOR THE FIRST THREE hours of our trip, Master Silas slept. He climbed in, settled on the floor at his wife’s feet, put a square of fabric over his face, and fell asleep. I was astonished that he could repose so deeply with the bouncing and jostling of the wagon, but he snored away.

  His wife apparently thought nothing of this strange behavior and proceeded to tell me about her daughters. Galatea, Eloine, and Candra were interesting girls if I were to judge them only on their mother’s opinion.

  Galatea, the eldest, was about my age, fair and sweet, though taken to posturing and striking poses. Despite this, I was repeatedly assured that we would be the best of friends. Eloine, it seemed, took after her father’s tendencies toward studying. She spent most of her time with a nose in a book. Candra was the most interesting to me of the three.

  Her mother introduced her by saying, “She is a garden child. I have never known a little one to spend so much time among bushes and plants. I can hardly get her to come in for meals. And the grass stains...” She lifted her hands in mock horror. “I have given up on keeping that child clean. I don’t know what Errol was thinking asking Ilias for his willow farm to stay at.”

  “I was thinking of you, my dear,” Errol commented from beneath his square of cloth.

  “However do you mean?”

  Master Silas removed the fabric square and looked up at his wife. “Don’t you remember the trouble that we had with training Ilias? You kept complaining that the house was too small.”

  “You kept insisting that everything be completely silent while he practiced concentrating, a bit difficult with small ones crawling, toddling, and capering about.”

  “Exactly, my love.” Easing himself up into a sitting position with the help of the bench, Master Silas smiled at his wife. “Now we shall have enough room. The house has five bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, parlor, workroom, and acres of land. Plenty of room for you to run the household, Gatatea to posture, Eloine to read, Candra to disappear into nature, and Zezilia and I to work. We would not be able to do all that on our small estate in the north. Besides, I want Zezilia as far south as I can get her. I don’t want to take the chance of her father changing his mind.”

  “You are indeed wise. If the house is as you say, I shall be very pleased.”

  “I knew you would,” Master Silas said before turning to me. “We shall begin your training.”

  “Now?” I asked. “But we are traveling.”

  “What better time to work on it than in the midst of chaos. Close your eyes.”

  I was skeptical of what we could accomplish jostling along to the beat of the rain on the oil skin roof, but I obeyed.

  “Now concentrate on one sound,” he instructed. I chose the steady creak of the wheel to my left. “Shut out all sounds but that one.”

  It took a lot of work, the rain was easy to filter, a monotone and consistent rhythm, but the jostling of the wagon wheels in the ruts of the roads and the jingle of the horses’ tack were harder. Finally, I managed. I felt something brush my thoughts.

  “Good,” Master Silas said.

  For the next few hours, he kept me focusing on sounds. It grew easier as my mind adjusted to the process. Master Silas, or Errol as he repeatedly urged him to call him, seemed pleased with my progress.

  “Now,” he said suddenly as I was trying to isolate the sound of one of the horses’ hooves. “I want you to close your eyes and imagine the area around you as a blank space.”

  Abandoning the sounds, I complied. The space that came to mind was a vast grey field.

  “Now reach out with your mind and try to sense where each of the living beings are within that field. Begin with myself. It will be easier since you have my voice to follow.”

  I concentrated on the sound of his voice, shutting out all others. As I focused harder, an image grew in my mind of something glowing dimly to my left and before me. It flickered. It must be Errol’s mind. Then hesitantly, I withdrew my focus on that one and reached out, grasping in the darkness with my mental hand, seeking Adreet. It took a while, but I found her. Her glow didn’t flicker as much as I concentrated on it. Then suddenly, she moved. I heard it and the glowing representation of her moved too. It startled me so much that I lost the image.

  My eyes opened to find Errol watching me with an amused look.

  “Those images in my head,” I gestured to my forehead, “They are just images right?”

  Errol laughed. “No, those are our actual minds. You are sensing them the way you select out sounds when you are listening and focus on objects when you see. I am teaching you to sense other minds.”

  I just looked at him for a stunned moment. “You mean that when you close your eyes and try this, you sense my mind?”

  He nodded. “How do you think I found you that first day?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I kept picking up trace thoughts and feelings.”

  “You mentioned that, but how do the two connect, the sending and the sensing?”

  He studied me for a moment. “I will tell you what. I will talk you through a sending if you promise to never do it on your own, until I say you are ready.”

  “I promise,” I agreed immediately. “But why can’t I do it on my own?”

  “You can do serious damage to another person’s mind if you don’t know what you are doing. That is why so many of the young men who have no interest in using the talent are trained anyway. They need to know what not to do so that others are protected.”

  “In that case, I would prefer to wait,” I said. I shuddered at the thought of hurting someone that way. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  He smiled. “It is safe for me, Zezilia. I have guards and defenses up for protecting
against such things. You aren’t trained in getting past them; so, you will not be able to do anything. Come, it will be good for you to get a taste of what is to come. Now, close your eyes.”

  I reluctantly obeyed.

  “Visualize the space and find my mind again.” This time finding his mind was much easier, as if my brain had memorized its glow. “Now think of what you want to say. Keep it simple, one word or two. Do you have it?”

  I nodded.

  “Reach out toward my mind and think of the word or words at the same time.”

  I tried. It was hard to keep both the word and the image in my thoughts at the same time. It felt like that game of patting your head and rubbing your stomach. It was nearly impossible to balance enough attention between each motion; yet with practice, Vander was able to do it almost without thought. So, I struggled, one moment both hands patting and the next both rubbing. My mouth caught a hint of plum. I opened my eyes.

  Errol laughed. “Beautifully done.”

  “What,” I exclaimed. “Did you hear my sending?”

  “No, but I tasted it. That is more than any of my students have been able to do at this stage.” He reached out and patted my cheek. “Don’t look so crestfallen, child. With practice and hard work, I will have you sending within two weeks. You will see.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I did know that I wanted to be able to do it. It was so close, yet so far. Someday soon, I would be able to speak without my mouth. I couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that wriggled in my stomach.

  “Now just practice those exercises that I just showed you,” he instructed.

  “But don’t over do it,” Adreet admonished.

  I eagerly set to work while they fell into an animated conversation over how to handle the night’s lodgings.

  Hadrian

  MEETINGS, SIDE CONVERSATIONS, barbed insults, loaded statements, I had my fill of words by the end of the first day and was sick of hearing them by the second. Korneli returned to the court on the fourth day to find me almost at the end of my patience, and it was only breakfast.

  “That bad already,” he commented, snitching from the fruit bowl on the breakfast tray.

  “You can have them all,” I said gesturing to the remaining food. My stomach wasn’t handling the tension well.

  “Thank you,” he said before reaching for the granola. “I haven’t eaten since yesternoon.”

  I nodded and strode to the windows. Beyond the covered terrace the sky loomed low and gray, promising rain for the fourth day in a row. “What did you find?” I asked.

  “Your father and Mother are well. Your brothers at home are all well, and everyone sends their congratulations.”

  I tried to envision them all. Father and Mother at rest before the fire in the common room; Mother with her hands busy with some small task and Father at work on his carving. My brothers were all gone from home, married with estates, responsibilities, and children of their own. However, those closest to home looked in on our parents frequently.

  “How did they take the news that the Mesitas has chosen to treat me as an enemy?”

  “You know Father. I told him and he nodded. ‘God will protect us,’ he said and went back to his carving.”

  I closed my eyes. I could see him doing that. Calm and steady in his faith as he was in all other aspects of life. In all my twenty-five years, I could recall only a handful of occasions where he had been more than calm.

  “If only I could be that peaceful,” I said.

  “He isn’t always calm underneath. Remember that time when Loent, you, and I took out the boat in the rain? He wasn’t calm then.”

  I nodded. All of our seats were sore after that adventure. I remember promising to never disobey one of Father’ rules again. Of course, the promise only lasted about a day, but at that moment, I truly and honestly had believed I could do it.

  “God will protect them,” I whispered.

  “So, have you and Tavey come up with a plan of attack.”

  I shook my head. “We are not going to attack. I will have my hands full with new duties as soon as Caelestis Novem is over. Besides, I don’t believe that is it my place to attack. This battle is the Lord’s. He placed me here and I trust that He has a purpose for me to fulfill before he removes me. I have nothing to hide. You know that. Every morning, I lay the day in the Lord’s hands, and every night I pray through the events.”

  “Is it working?” Korneli asked, leaning back in his seat, pear in hand.

  I met his gaze. “I am still here; I haven’t lost my temper, spoken out of turn, or throttled the man yet. There are moments that I wish I could, though.” I didn’t tell him about the meeting on the third day when I wanted to walk across the High King’s table and latch my hands around the old Mesita’s throat.

  The Mesitas never gave up. Every word was barbed and targeted, as if I were the red circle that marked the target. Yet I sat silently and acted as though the meanings were not clearly aimed at me.

  He smiled. “Envisioning it?”

  “Trying not to,” I admitted.

  My new servant, Giles, entered and stood in the doorway to the bedchamber. He came with the position to care for my clothing and keep me looking proper. His stiff posture signaled for my attention.

  “What is it, Giles?” I asked.

  “The High King and the Council of Kings are convening in a half hour, Sir.”

  “I was just going,” Korneli announced with a smile for Giles. “I will see you in the audience chamber at the beginning of the closing ceremonies.”

  I agreed and he left. Instead of going into my bedroom, I stood for a moment before the windows opening onto the covered terrace. Be with me, Father, I pleaded. I am so weak and easily angered. Keep my duties always before me so that I cannot forget my purpose which is to serve You.

  “Sir?” Giles ventured. “Your uniform is set out and ready.”

  I turned to meet his dark eyes, wizened and deep. “What would happen if I didn’t wear the uniform today?”

  Looking dutifully shocked, Giles frowned. “Everyone would be taken aback, and the High King would reprimand you for not dressing according to your station.”

  “That is what I thought. Very well, Giles, I guess I must wear the uniform.”

  “Yes, sir.” Giles bowed me into my bedroom and hurriedly began the preparations for dressing me.

  I wasn’t sure if his rush was because we were behind schedule or because he feared I would follow through on my passing fancy of scandalizing the court. As tempting as it was, I knew I shouldn’t give the Mesitas fodder for his campaign against me. I had to only wait one more day. Then I would be on my way to my new home, the Sept Son’s estates in the Northeast, far from the goddess’ city and its hold.

  The morning session went as well as could be expected. I managed to stay alert and interested. Next on the schedule was the last feast of the Caelestis Novem. It came right before the Kings began the packing up to return home.

  “Are you ready for the final meeting of the talents?” Tristan asked as he came alongside me. I nodded my greetings to the older man. My senior by twenty years, he was an experienced aid that I was hoping to promote to a position that best suited his skills at negotiating and bargaining. The last talent convention was scheduled for after the noon feast.

  “As ready as I am going to be,” I replied. “I have rosters of duties laid out for the trainers and a schedule of classes. Then, after choosing officers, I am hopefully leaving for the estate.”

  “And leave before the last meal?”

  “Neleck’s health is failing, Tristan. I need to return as soon as politically allowed, which means directly after the talent meeting.”

  Tristan stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me, Hadrian.” I turned and met his eyes. “Mesitas is planning something. Stay until after dinner.” Out loud, he said, “I am not willing to sit by and let you start off on the wrong foot. I believe that High King Honorus will ta
ke it badly if you leave too soon.”

  “What is he planning?” I asked as I lowered my eyes and studied the space at my feet as though thinking about his warning.

  “I don’t know, but I do know that his sons and followers are gathering about him. Whatever the reason, I think you need to be here for it.”

  He had a point. I nodded. “I will stay.”

  Satisfied, he released my shoulder with a mild smile. “See you at the meeting.” Walking away, he disappeared into the gathering crowd of nobles by the dining room’s entrance.

  “What was that about?” Korneli asked. “What is for lunch?”

  I turned around in time to catch my friend’s teasing half grin.

  “A warning from Tristan that the Mesitas is planning something.” I grimaced. “I have no idea, and my stomach isn’t interested.”

  “You have to eat something,” he protested. “Not good.”

  “Dry bread sounds about to my taste right now.”

  He shook his head. “I will see you eat if I have to force it down your throat. Your father has entrusted me with the task of looking out for your health.”

  I groaned and turned toward the waiting guests.

  The following meal was draining. I consumed the blander items on my plate and lifted the rest onto Korneli’s when no one was looking. Thankfully, he spoke nothing of the spiced lamb and yellow beets that miraculously appeared on his plate. It was either give them to him or eat them, for if the Sept Son didn’t eat everything he was served, the cook was dismissed.

  The talent meeting went especially well considering my distracted thoughts about the Mesitas and what he could possibly have planned.

  I gave everyone their new assignments for the year. Keeping in mind Silas’ requests that I assign all of Zezilia’s brothers to posts in the Northern half of the country so that they couldn’t visit her, I even planned on taking one of them back to the estate with me. Renato, a young man of eighteen, showed great promise. I hoped that someday he would become a great assistant. But before that, he needed a great deal of specialized training gained only by working among the elite of the talents. Korneli and Tavey I assigned to two problem areas in the south. I knew that they could be counted on to keep things under control and report to me with any problems.