Brodea stood at the rim of the council chamber, her toes slightly extended past the edge of the tree. The calluses on her feet from centuries of moving amongst the trees left her hardly feeling the coarse bark scraping against them. A gentle southern wind pulled at the great elm, rustling the leaves and pulling her raven hair outward like a billowing flag. She knew very soon the council would be angry with her for keeping the Blood Wizard alive. It was a calculate risk, she would make them see reason.
Soft padding against the smooth floor alerted her that she was not alone. Brodea’s keen ears picked up the gentle swishing of fabric against the floor. She knew who approached.
“Yes, my Voïre,” Brodea said, turning, but not looking the platinum-haired Ferhym in the eyes. It was tradition that she respect the Voïre dui Ceremeia regardless of her position over the young elf.
“First Councilor,” the Voïre dui Ceremeia replied equally as curt. She bobbed her head, and approached the wide opening to stand beside Brodea. Brodea, in return, looked back out into the swallet that was her home, her domain.
“You have him?” the Voïre asked, ignoring all pretenses.
“Yes.” Brodea said flatly.
“May I see him?”
“No.”
Brodea looked out the corner of her eyes at the Voïre to see her reaction. The young elf was emotionless, staring out into the city beyond. “Are you never going to let that go?”
“You marked a dui Nuchada,” Brodea declared bluntly. “And worse, that dui Nuchada has become a wizard.”
The Voïre seemed unfazed by the obvious facts. “Yes.”
Incredulous, Brodea continued, “And you are okay with this?”
“You know my reasons.”
Brodea folded her arms, and turned to face the Voïre dui Ceremeia, looking politely at her chin instead of her eyes. She spoke as forcefully as she started, “Because of your aversion to justice.”
“Violence,” the Voïre corrected. “I watched Whísper commit horrors on that day.”
“You watched her balance skewers for the cause!” Brodea declared.
Now the Voïre did look in her direction. Brodea could feel those swirling quicksilver eyes upon her. It never got any easier feeling the magic washing over. Passionately and full of anger she replied, “I was a child.”
“You are a Voïre!” Brodea snapped. “Your bloodline has been gifted with you. The Pure Hym. You need to act like it.”
The Voïre snorted, “Act like a pure hym. Counsel me then, Lady Windsong, how is a pure hym supposed to act? For it seems to me that my choice in sparing Ashyn Rune that day has in turn benefitted the cause greatly. Do you not have everything you need for the tome? A wizard and a dui Nuchada. Rather convenient, is it not?”
The Voïre dui Ceremeia turned away and walk towards the stairs.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Brodea demanded, not finished with the feisty young elf.
“Are you going to let me see him?” she asked without turning around to face Brodea.
“No.”
Brodea saw her head nod, “Then I’m going to find the hunter that brought him here. I have a great many questions about this Blood Wizard. And if you won’t help me, First Councilor, I will seek help elsewhere.”
And then the Voïre was gone.
Brodea dropped her arms and sighed. She looked back out into the valley, realizing that the Voïre dui Ceremeia was right. If Whísper captured or killed Ashyn Rune all those winters ago, then she might have never found the one she needed to translate the tome and bring balance to all of Kuldarr.
She watched below, and after several minutes the silver-haired Ferhym appeared, heading west. Perhaps it was the will of the Spirits this Voïre marked the dui Nuchada. Perhaps it was precognition. Perhaps it was simply luck. Brodea couldn’t ignore the truth of the Voïre’s words, though. The Voïre’s choice in sparing Ashyn Rune would benefit the cause.
Perhaps it was Brodea that needed to open her eyes and accept it. Perhaps this very particular Voïre could be extremely useful in the days to come. She would have to wait and see.