She turned back to me. “There is another thing, my lady, that you should know. The name Spinner has come to denote two meanings. It now means not only one who weaves fine cloth and sews beautiful garments, but also one who is a Spinner of tales. We are honored by both distinctions, just as our fellow Aerisians value our store of knowledge and often ask our advice on matters of import.”
“Which is why you, a Spinner, have a seat at the Council table,” I surmised.
“Indeed. Iseldra was the first Spinner to assume that role, and I trust I shall not be the last. Often the surest way to avoid future errors is to have an understanding of the past.”
“We have a saying on Earth,” I agreed thoughtfully. “Those who won’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.”
“There is wisdom in this,” the Spinner acknowledged. “I do not speak lightly when I say that my sisters have often prevented a misjudgment on the part of Council by recalling a bit of history that has kept Aerisia from recreating a mistake.”
“And so, my lady, you have now the history of the Spinners and why Lady Elisia sits among her peers at Council,” put in Rittean. “What is your delight now? Shall she tell you of Lady Tey, her fellow Pronconcil, or of Lord Elgrend and the lineage of the High Elders?”
I considered a moment before answering. “Well…I don’t think so, Rittean. At least, not right now. I mean, I do want to hear all that, but there’s so many other things I feel like I should know first. Really, I’d like to hear about you and your father—about your people, the Moonkind. And the staffs you carry, and those jewels on top that you call moonstones. What’s that all about?”
My moon-haired friend giggled. “Forgive me, my lady. Your manner of speaking is so…well, it is rather—”
“Different than that to which we are accustomed,” finished Lady Elisia delicately.
Rittean added hastily, “Of course it is my pleasure to tell you of my people, the Moonkind.”
“Cool.” Kicking off my shoes, I pulled my feet up under me on the settee. “I’m comfy. Let’s get started.”
Moonkind Magic
“Before the city of Laytrii rose from the plains, before the Elders and Pronconcil met to give guidance to our land, my people—the Moonkind—arrived on the shores of the Shimmering Sea.”
Leaning back against the settee, I listened with rapt attention to my newfound friend’s story. Her voice, though pleasant, lacked the entrancing qualities of Lady Elisia’s. But then, Rittean was a Moonkind, not a Spinner.
“We arrived as strangers, outcasts from our home on the Moon. A terrible drought, wrought by the wickedness and witchery of the nightsworn, had befallen our homeland. Wreaking untold havoc, it slew all living things and parched all fountains of water. Upon such barren ground, life could no longer be sustained. My people were forced to flee.”
“To Aerisia,” I deduced, “where you settled and built new homes for yourselves.”
“Indeed,” she nodded. “My people brought the moonstones such as these here: precious gems mined in deep, secret places into which the light of the moon had seeped and was stored. Imbued with this light, our moonstones are a source of both light…and magic.”
Magic. An involuntary whisper shivered down my spine. Magic… Sure, I’d heard the word often enough in Disney features and Grimm’s fairytales. But this was a far cry from either of those. This was here. This was real. This was me.
Do you believe in magic?
The silly old question came back to haunt me. Maybe I’m beginning to.
“Here in Aerisia,” Rittean pressed on, unaware of my private debate, “did my people arrive, surmounting mountain, field, plain, and desert to the great village of Catras, where the Aerisian High-Chief of old, Lord Laydon Wy’ Tilrk, resided.
“You must know,” she put in as an aside, “this was before the days of darkness and shadow. High-Chief Laydon was a respectable man then, and he offered these weary travelers a home in his village. They soon became known across the land as the Moonkind: people of the Moon.
“Alas,” my friend lamented, “in time, the power High-Chief Laydon beheld the Moonkind wielding became a snare to his soul. When he sought it, sought the magic of the moonstones, he was corrupted. No man is equipped to wield too much power. Our Tredsdays warned the High-Chief of this, but his ears were closed to their words.”
Tredsdays, I thought triumphantly. I know that word! Risean Wy’ Curlm used it when he came to get me in Mr. Cutter’s pasture. It means, it means—I snapped invisible mental fingers. Oh yes, Guardian! That’s it! He said a Tredsday is a Guardian, which I guess means something like a judge, or Elder.
Realizing that I’d fallen behind, I tuned my ears once more to Rittean’s story in time to catch: “…avarice and greed—these had maddened him until he wished to be more than a mere High-Chief. He wished to bring the entirety of Aerisia beneath his heel. He wished to rule as a king, a god!
“This madness grew like a plague until it dominated the High-Chief’s mind. It was then that he gained possession of three moonstones—a valuable treasure—by stealing the life of their owner.”
Delicate way to state he murdered someone.
“Only belatedly did the High-Chief realize the power he craved cannot be employed except by those who fully understand it. And only those who have dwelt upon the Moon or mined its stones can do so.”
“Wait,” I broke in. “You say the power can only be used by those who’ve lived on the Moon or mined its stones. So how come you and your father carry those staffs? I’m pretty sure they aren’t just decorations, either. Not after what I saw your father do when he brought me here.”
“An excellent observation, Lady Hannah. Of course, the days of which I speak are long gone. The lore of the stones has been passed down through the centuries. First it went from Tredsday to Tredsday, then—once we realized how our powers were diminishing—from Tredsday to every Moonkind who would learn. As with the Aerisians and their tapestries, all Moonkind younglings are schooled in the use of the stones.
“Unfortunately, much knowledge has been lost,” she sighed. “The power wielded today is but a shadow of what it once was. Nevertheless, what remains is sacrosanct. We alone, as people of the Moon, understand and can exercise the magic of the stones.
“When High-Chief Laydon discovered this—that he could neither comprehend nor employ the moonstones’ magic—his life was shattered. In his grief, and tormented by his conscience for the murder he’d wrought, he threw himself from the pinnacle of Mount Mortane, dashing himself to pieces upon the rocks below.
“So perished the High-Chief. But after him arose his daughter, the great Laytrii Wis’ Tilrk.
“Ah, I see the light spring to your eyes,” Lady Elisia commented. “In the course of your short visit, you’ve heard this name often. You wish to know if this palace bears her name. Well, your conjecture is correct. Have patience, my lady. The stories of this palace, the High-Chieftess, and the Moonkind are all intertwined.”
“So they are,” agreed Rittean. “The High-Chieftess, clever as she was beautiful, greatly respected the Moonkind and their power. She vowed never to crave it as her father had done, lest a similar fate befall her. In truth, Laytrii sought neither power nor might. Rather, she sought to guide her people with love, to dispense mercy with justice.
“Under her guidance Aerisia flourished, as did the Moonkind. So great was the love my people bore her that they undertook to build a palace that would stand forever as a monument to her reign. Thus, the power of our moonstones was used to create the selfsame palace in which we sit. From the marble of Mount Mortane was it wrought: carved, as it were, from the mountain’s very heart.”
Hearing this, I locked my arms around my upraised knees, gazing about this vaulted chamber with new respect.
Carved from the heart of a mountain. Imagine that.
“When the building was complete, my people brought a number of stones taken from their former homeland to be used as sources of lig
ht, like those above,” she clarified, nodding toward the glittering chandelier I’d admired earlier. “You see, my lady, affording light is the first power of the moonstones; it is their very nature. They’ll give their light to any who request it, as you’ve seen Lady Elisia do. Furthermore, as with the Spinner’s magical cloth, the light of the moonstones will never diminish. They are today exactly as they were then
“Wow. That’s amazing.” Dropping my hands to my lap, I leaned forward, peering up at the chandelier as if by staring I might be able to pierce the source of Moonkind magic and light. “Just…” impossible, improbable, incredible “…amazing.”
“So it is,” concurred my friend, then carried on as if she’d never been interrupted.
“The High-Chieftess had not been long in her new abode when love came to her. A great warrior, by name of Ranetron…”
Ranetron? Another name I knew!
“…finally succeeded in capturing her heart and making her his bride. They were wed in the palace gardens, which form the heart of the Palace. You will see them soon, I trow—the Council chamber lies directly beneath. After speaking their marriage vows, the couple planted the Living Tree there in the gardens, a tribute to their love. A tribute meant to grow while they lived, and flourish long after their deaths.
“Sadly, though they desired it, a child was never born to the lady and her husband. In time, needing an heir, they adopted a foundling who would rise from obscurity to become the High-Chieftess’s son. Eventually, he became a mighty warrior like his father. Taking his father’s name, he became known as Lord Ranetron, son of High-Chief Ranetron.
“Time, you know, is a bandit of the worst sort. Dark were the days for Laytrii when this thief stole the life of her husband. Afterward, she’d no desire to go on living. Knowing her own time was short, she offered the throne of High-Chief to her adopted son and heir, but Lord Ranetron’s desire was to lead soldiers and warriors, not govern a kingdom. He informed his mother of this, then pledged eternal guardianship to her new palace and city—both of which now bore her name—as well as to whoever she named her successor.”
The tale continued. Council, established by the High-Chieftess, was decreed to be twelve: six men and six women from varying occupations, regions, and walks of life. Apparently, the old High-Chieftess had been something of a democrat. She wanted everybody to be represented, which, at least in theory, they were. The High-Chieftess also wanted people chosen for wisdom, not magical talents. In her opinion, people needed to know that power, real power and good power, is found in clarity of mind rather than magic and might of the sword.
I couldn’t say I disagreed. Which was why it boggled my mind that all these people considered me—as some legendary Artan figure, with a bunch of supposed supernatural gifts—to be so doggone important.
“The High Elder,” Rittean finished up, “was appointed by the High-Chieftess to oversee Council and make any necessary final decisions. His seat of power hearkens back to the Aerisian High-Chiefs and Chieftesses of old, although his authority is shared, while theirs was not.
“Pronconcil were decreed by Laytrii to be four. Like the Elders, they would be of the people, but they would be of those peoples who had given special aid to Aerisia. She didn’t choose them herself, but left that task up to Council. In time, they came to be as you saw in the Council chamber below: a Spinner, a Ranetron, a Cortain, and a Simathe. Lady Tey, whom you saw earlier, is a Cortain.”
“Your companion?” I asked Lady Elisia. “The other female Pronconcil?”
“Indeed,” the Spinner replied.
“Okay, I think I’m getting the picture. So the current Ranetron are descendants—kinda—of Lord Ranetron who abdicated, and the military forces he lead? And they’ve taken his name?”
“Correct,” Rittean affirmed. “A number of Ranetron defend our capital city and palace, while others form the bulk of our military forces.”
“I see. But it still seems weird to me that the Moonkind, who did so much for Aerisia and High-Chieftess Laytrii, and who had so much power, weren’t allowed to become part of Council. Why is that?”
“In truth, Lady Hannah, the High-Chieftess did offer the people of the Moon a seat at Council. They, however, were in complete accord: they felt they’d no place at Aerisia’s Council table. To rule anyone besides themselves went against the Peace of the Moon, the teachings by which we live,” Rittean clarified. “They were Moonkind, after all, not Aerisians. Rather than sit at Council, they were content to offer counsel whenever asked, and to use their skills for the good of the land.”
“Mmmm, wow, that’s quite a story. Gives you the history of the Moonkind, High-Chief Laydon and his daughter, the Ranetron, the palace, and Council all in one.”
Turning to Lady Elisia, I teased, “Tell me, can a Spinner spin this tale as well as Rittean, a Moonkind, just did?”
“Certainly not!” she quipped. “A Spinner would do a far better job.”
At this, the three of us laughed, and I discovered I felt much better than I had earlier. I even felt like I was forming not one but two new friendships.
“Well, I think you’ve covered my major questions except two,” I said when we’d quieted. “Who are the Simathe, and what is a Joining?”
I still didn’t like the sound of that—Joining—and before I had anything to do with it I was determined to get an explanation. Let Council decree all it wanted. I’d use any influence I might have as the supposed “Artan” before I’d undergo some strange process I knew nothing about.
Speaking of…
I realized I’d forgotten to ask her history. Artan’s, that is. Obviously, I needed this information, especially if I was going to convince these people that I wasn’t her. Nevertheless, further inquiries were forestalled by the sudden clatter of hooves in the courtyard below.
Lady Elisia set her goblet on a nearby tabletop, rose, and stepped out onto the balcony. After a moment, she turned back to us, her long braid swinging over her shoulder.
“It is your father, Rittean, and the Simathe High-Chief. They’ve arrived at last,” she announced.
Rittean stood quickly. “Then we must be off. Come, my lady. Your other queries must wait. You’ll wish to meet the Simathe High-Chief. He is both a lord in his own right and our fourth Pronconcil.”
But a chill raced down my backbone at the word Simathe.
You’ll want to meet the Simathe High-Chief, my eye, I thought, prepared to protest this forced meeting.
Unluckily, I wasn’t given the chance as Rittean and Lady Elisia ushered me out the door and down long hallways leading back toward the tiered amphitheater and the Simathe lord who’d arrived. Somewhere along the way, I lost my nerve. It’s no understatement to say I was completely overwhelmed. My whole world had been turned on its head. Either this was the most elaborate dream anyone had ever experienced, or I really was in some foreign world, among people of an equally foreign mindset. Multiply this by their unfamiliar speech, fashions, food, and lifestyle—not to mention beliefs, customs, and architecture—and it was a lot to absorb.
My head was swimming with all I’d heard and seen. I had neither the physical nor mental strength to endure any more. Besides, this mysterious Simathe High-Chief was not high on the list of people I wanted to meet. Not with so much mystery surrounding him. I couldn’t make myself walk into that imposing Council chamber again. I couldn’t face Aerisia’s Elders, Pronconcil, and High Elder a second time, and I couldn’t meet the Simathe lord. Not tonight. I just couldn’t.
So I stopped walking. Simply stopped, waiting for Moonkind Rittean and Lady Elisia to notice I was no longer following. It didn’t take long.
“My lady, why do you linger? Come, they are expecting us,” Rittean insisted, beckoning me forward.
I stood my ground. “I can’t do it, Rittean. I’m sorry, but I can’t face Council and all of those people again. Not tonight, anyway. And I can’t face this Simathe High-Chief, whoever he is, without knowing anything about him, either.
“I’m tired. I—I just want to go to bed. Please, there’s nothing going on that can’t wait till morning, is there? Please?”
The two women exchanged concerned glances.
“I suppose,” Lady Elisia vacillated, a frown furrowing her smooth brow. “I could explain your desires to Council.” A quick smile—“Intercede on your behalf, we might say. Is this what you want, Lady Hannah?”
“Oh, yes,” I breathed gratefully. “Please, Lady Elisia, I’d appreciate that so much.”
My answering smile contained all of the appreciation and relief I felt at her offer. The fact that Council might turn her down never entered my mind. This beautiful Spinner had already impressed me as the kind of person who could convince anyone to do anything.
“Very well, then. I shall so do.” Turning to Rittean, she instructed, “If you will escort my lady to her chambers, I will address Council.”
“As my lady wishes,” my Moonkind friend agreed.
I sighed with relief as we turned to retrace our steps. Sleep. That sounded good right now. Both my body and my mind were downright drained. I was pretty sure I’d have no problems getting a good night’s rest. Hopefully, it would help. After all, things usually look better in the morning.
So Be It
From the foot of the Council table, Lord Ilgard, High-Chief of the Simathe, observed the Spinner Pronconcil descending the staircase leading to the floor of the Council chamber. Grace in every motion, she halted a pace away to salute him in typical Aerisian fashion. Despite the smile tilting her mouth, no warmth reached her eyes.
“Greetings, Ilgard, Lord of Treygon. Too long has your Council seat been vacant. We welcome your wisdom in these trying times.”
Though the words were sincere, he could hear the tautness in her voice. To ignore or offer him, a fellow Pronconcil, a slight would have been unacceptable. A gentlewoman through and through, the lady addressed him earnestly, yet as sparingly as possible. It was no more than he expected. In response, he matched her welcome with a shallow bow and a succinct greeting of his own.
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