Changing Fate

 

Akila finished stirring the mixture in the cauldron and set it on the windowsill to cool overnight. She was very anxious to see if the potion would actually do what it was supposed to. According to the scroll she had found the formula in, it should have some very interesting, and maybe even useful, properties.

It was quiet in the tower, and the late afternoon sunlight flowed across the four-foot wide stone windowsill. Akila perched on the sill beside the cauldron, enjoying the feel of the sun’s warmth on her sore shoulders. It felt as though she had been stirring that potion for hours.

Since the room’s only window faced away from the rest of the castle, noises from the courtyard or the other buildings were only faint echoes. Akila savored the quiet, knowing that it couldn’t last.

She had no need to look out the window; there was nothing there to be seen, nothing but lots and lots of empty space. She and her twin brother Briam shared the top floor of a simple stone tower which had been old when the rest of the castle was built. From her window the tower dropped to the edge of a cliff, which dropped in turn about 800 feet straight down—the legacy of a long-ago earthquake. Fortunately Akila was not troubled by heights.

She sighed, getting reluctantly up from the windowsill. Enough self-indulgence—time to get back to work.

The twins’ father had, as usual, gone off early in the spring, taking with him most of the castle guard as well as an entire troop of mercenaries, in his constant quest to add yet another estate to his already too-vast domain—much too vast to suit Akila, who wound up with the administration of it. Just because their mother, no doubt hallucinating from the drugs they had given her to ease the birth of the twins, had murmured something about the child ruling over a kingdom, her husband had set to work building the kingdom for his son. It was really too bad, Akila thought, that Mother hadn’t lived long enough to realize that she was badly mistaken.

By now it was obvious to anyone willing to admit it that Briam had neither the brains nor the inclination to do more than ride, hunt, dance, and play any musical instrument he could get his hands on. Even their father, although unwilling to admit that his son was not the perfect young lord and heir, had turned a blind eye as Galin the Steward trained Akila to run the estates that would one day be her brother’s. Now, at the age of eighteen, she was very good at it. The domain their father was amassing would remain intact—assuming, of course, that Briam had a child capable enough to hang on to it after Akila was dead. Their father occasionally spoke of finding a suitable bride for Briam, but he had not yet actually done anything about it.

Music had always been Briam’s main passion and interest; even when he started to notice girls he spent more time singing ballads of courtly love to whomever he fancied himself in undying love with that month than he did doing anything else.

So while Briam was nominally in charge of the estate during his father’s absence, everyone, including Briam, went to Akila with any problems. By now, Akila could run the place better than her father, who wasn’t there very often anyway.

Picking up the scroll she had been using for her potion, she headed toward the stairs, closing her bedroom door behind her.

Eagle’s Rest, named after her father’s device, an eagle flying toward the sun, had started out as a temple, consisting of a single unfortified square stone tower. The sanctuary on the ground floor was still used as the chapel, although her father was religious only when it suited him. He preferred to leave religion to the women of the family, which was one of the reasons why Akila was the priestess of the Lady of Fire. Her father had turned her over to the Goddess when she was two—or at least not objected when Marfa suggested it. (The other reason was that the Maiden had chosen Akila, but her father didn’t know that and would neither have understood nor believed it if he had.) Marfa, the housekeeper, served the Earth Mother, and Galin, the Steward, served the Lord of Water. The old man who had been priest of the Sky Father had died during the winter, so He was without a priest at present. Marfa, the eldest of the remaining three, told Akila that the Sky Father would call a new priest to himself in his own time.

The tower’s second floor, which had originally been the quarters for the priests of the Earth Mother and the Sky Father, was used now only for storage. Both Galin and Marfa, due to their mundane duties, found it easier to live in the main keep. The twins had the third floor (properly the quarters of the priests of the Lady of Fire and Lord of Water, which meant that Akila belonged there and Briam didn’t). This gave each twin a bedroom in addition to the common sitting room. Akila had the room to which she was entitled as priestess of the Lady of Fire, and Briam the room which should by rights have been Galin’s. The sitting room faced south and was the most comfortable room in the castle, although extremely shabby in its furnishings. Akila noticed as she passed through it that its softwood floor was getting quite a track worn in it between the stairs and the bedrooms. She resolved to see if she could find an old rug in one of the storerooms. Her father would object if anything valuable made its way into the tower, but he wouldn’t care if she found some old castoff from one of the guest rooms.

The guest rooms hadn’t been used since she could remember in any case; her father was not a hospitable man. Her mother’s family had considered hospitality a virtue, which had enabled her father to visit, spy out the layout and defenses, and come back with an army to take the place. He had married his wife, the only known survivor of her family, to strengthen his claim to the property. Then he strengthened the castle’s defenses and used it as a base from which to conquer everything else in range.

The tower had another floor, cut into the rock beneath it and entered through a hidden entrance built into the altar. It was a secret known only to the priesthood: Akila, Galin, and Marfa. Akila had not told even Briam about it. (She had tried, but she found that when he was in the room the entrance refused to open for her.) The secret room contained the temple’s only remaining treasure, its library. Briam wasn’t particularly bookish, and their father, Akila knew, would have seen the library only as a source of revenue. He had already sold off all of the temple’s other treasures, or melted them down to pay the mercenaries he hired each year to help him amass more land and more treasure to hire more soldiers.

Akila went down the stairs to the sanctuary, closed and bolted its door behind her, and went to the south side of the altar. The altar was an octagon made of stone, standing as high as Akila’s heart. The south face of it showed the Lady of Fire in human form at the left, holding a lightning bolt that stretched from sky to earth. The next carving, at the center, showed Her in the form of a salamander, basking in fire, and the carving at the right showed her as a bird, taking wing out of the fire with flames trailing from the tips of her wings as she flew toward the Sky Father’s section of the altar. The top of the altar held the few implements used in the daily ritual, and each section was carved with appropriate symbols. The Maiden’s section was covered with dozens of stylized flames. Akila set down the scroll and reached out to press her hands against two of the flames and chanted softly. The triangle between the fire and air sections of the altar slid out of the way, revealing the ladder to the library below. Akila grabbed the scroll and went quickly down, knowing that the opening would close automatically in only a few seconds. She never had been able to figure out how the entrance worked, or why it would work only for one of the priesthood and not for anyone else. Presumably it was some sort of magic, but Akila didn’t perfectly understand its rules.

The altar closed above her, and a soft light began to glow in the darkness. The light had no apparent source, but it always seemed to be brightest where it was needed. It was never bright enough, however, to illuminate the entire library at once. As a child Akila had asked why this was so, and Galin had told her that bright light was bad for books; it cracked bindings and faded print.

The light was so dim that Akila had never been sure just how deep the library went into the bedrock. The library had the same width and breadth as the tower above it, but its height was unknown. The ladders from the four corners of the altar led to a wooden catwalk that enabled one to reach the walls. The walls had shelves full of books and scrolls alternating with ladders which ran down the corners where the walls joined together. At six-foot intervals going down the ladders a platform stretched across between them, allowing just enough room for one person to stand or kneel and examine the contents of the shelves. The ladders and the platforms were made of wooden strips smaller than Akila’s wrist, and often creaked alarmingly as one traveled along them. Between the feeling that one was about to fall into an apparently bottomless abyss and the dim lighting, only the most dedicated of book lovers would have wanted to be in the library, Akila thought. She knew that there was a bottom because she had been down there, but no matter how many times she tried, she could never seem to count the levels between it and the top. The more frequently used books were at the top anyway.

Akila had spent as much of her free time as she could exploring the library and had discovered that when she was just browsing, the light would follow her around, but if she were looking for something specific, the light would lead her to it. She had discovered the scroll she now held while browsing on the very bottom shelf.

The light led her down a ladder. Akila tried, as always, to count levels, and soon lost track. By the time she reached the bottom, it seemed as though time had stopped. This was not uncommon; the library often seemed to be a place out of time. Akila would think she had spent all day there, but when she emerged she would discover that only an hour or so had passed.

The light illuminated the space from which Akila had taken the scroll. Whatever its source, the light always knew where the item one was replacing belonged, and any attempt to put it elsewhere would extinguish the light instantly until the item was picked up again. Marfa and Galin suspected that this was the work of some long-ago librarians who knew only too well the rule that a book mis-shelved was a book lost and wanted none of that in their library. And they certainly succeeded, Akila thought ruefully, rubbing her sore arms. If I had a choice, I’d leave this scroll up in the top level, not bring it all the way back down here.

The light started fading slowly as soon as she replaced the scroll and grew steadily dimmer as she climbed. By the time she reached the point where the ladder to her section of the altar joined the catwalk the room was dark again, but as soon as she put a foot on the bottom rung the entrance opened, giving her light from above by which to climb back to the chapel.

Akila looked at the angle of the sun through the small high windows of the sanctuary and went to open the door. Galin and Marfa would be here at any moment for the evening ritual.

In fact, Galin was waiting just outside the door when she opened it. Galin was in his early forties, but his short stocky frame and round face made him look younger, even though his brown hair was starting to turn white. He smiled at her, obviously knowing why the door had been closed and where she had been, but said only, “Good evening, Akila. Did you have a pleasant afternoon?”

Akila grinned at him. She was a good deal fonder of Galin than she had ever been of her father. “Yes, very, and if you had anything to do with my being undisturbed for a change, I thank you.”

Galin patted her lightly on the shoulder. “You work too hard, child.”

Akila nodded ruefully. “We all do. You and I and Marfa must do at least six or seven people’s work between us.”

“At least,” Galin agreed.

“It’s a shame Briam isn’t more interested in real life,” Akila said wistfully. “I had hoped that the Sky Father would chose him as His new priest.”

“Lord Briam is not the stuff of which priests are made,” came the tart reply from the doorway as Marfa entered. Marfa had definite opinions on the subject of the twins’ characters; she had been housekeeper and priestess as long as Akila could remember, and she had raised Akila and Briam. Unlike Galin, Marfa looked every day of her age and then more; she seemed at once ancient and ageless. “But the new priest will come soon; I feel it in my bones.” She moved to her place at the north side of the altar. “Shall we begin?” Galin and Akila moved to their places at west and south, as Marfa picked up the basin at the center of the altar and moved it to the Earth Mother’s side.

“In the beginning was Earth, Mother of all life.” Marfa took a bit of a mixture of rich brown earth, green leaves, and dry twigs from a small bowl on the Earth section of the altar and placed it into one of the shallow divisions of the basin, which was divided into four parts. “From Her body all are born and to Her all return at the proper season. Honor the Mother, thank Her for Her blessings, and remember that our roots are in Her body.”

Marfa passed the basin to the Sky Father’s portion of the altar, and the three of them stood in silence during the time the priest would have done his part in the ritual. Then Akila reached out and took the basin.

“Fire is the daughter of Earth and Sky, Lightning, the first-born of the children which link them.” She took a twig from the earth division of the basin and lit it from the small lamp that always burned on the Fire section of the altar. Placing the twig into the fire division of the basin to burn, she continued, “All life is changed by contact with Her, yet Her essence never changes. In all the changes of our lives, remember that, though the form may change, the reality is eternal.” As the form of the twig converted itself to a line of ash, Akila passed the basin to Galin.

“Water is the son of Earth and Sky, Rain, the second-born of the children which link them.” Galin picked up a vial of water and slowly poured some of it into the water division of the basin. “Water flows through all that lives, yet Water never changes, however far He may travel. The reality is eternal.” Galin placed the basin carefully back in the bare center of the altar, between the carved portions allotted to each of the Elements. He reached out to take Akila’s and Marfa’s hands, and they stood there silently until the last rays of the sun passed below the sanctuary windows. Then they dropped hands and silently left the room. The basin would sit on the altar overnight, and in the morning Akila, as part of her duties as the youngest of the priesthood, would clean it in preparation for the next night’s ritual.

~o0o~

Akila had hoped to find Briam in the courtyard outside the temple, or at least in the Great Hall—after all, it was dinnertime and he was supposed to preside at the high table. But when she arrived in the Hall with Galin and Marfa, there was no sign of Briam, although everyone else in the castle was there, the tables were set up, and the food was ready. Marfa muttered something under her breath. Galin’s ‘irresponsible idiot’ was slightly more audible.

“We may as well all sit down,” Akila sighed. “I’m sure he’ll be here momentarily.” She led the way to the high table and took her seat. Galin sat to her right, Briam’s empty chair was to her left, and Marfa sat to Briam’s left. Akila put her hands in her lap, fingers interlaced, looked into her cupped palms, and reached out with her mind. As she had expected, she heard a faint thread of melody, apparently played on a lute.

Briam! she sent out a mental call, accompanied by the sensation of her empty and complaining stomach and the feeling of embarrassed annoyance that she always got when she was in a room full of people waiting for Briam.

The lute music stopped with a startled jolt, and she could feel Briam come back to an awareness of the world around him. “He’s on his way,” she whispered to Galin.

“Good,” Galin replied. “It would be helpful to have him make the announcement that we start harvesting tomorrow.”

Akila nodded. “It would certainly look better that way, since he is supposed to be in charge here.”

“It would look even better if he were to show up on time for dinner,” said Marfa.

Briam entered the room at a brisk trot just in time to hear the last remark. “I do apologize,” he said, slipping quickly into his seat and nodding for the servers to begin. “I am composing a new piece, and I’m afraid that I lost track of the time.”

Since all three of his table companions had been able to guess that for themselves, they did not bother to comment. The boy who was serving them barely repressed a snicker. Marfa glared at him, and dinner continued without incident. Akila and Galin discussed the work schedule and crew assignments for the next morning. Briam ignored them and ate in silence, his mind presumably still on his music.

When he stood up to leave at the end of the meal, however, Akila prevented his departure with a quick hand around his wrist. You have an announcement to make, brother dear. It really did help sometimes that he was her twin; not only could she call him from a distance, but, when they were in physical contact, they could speak mind to mind with words. This ability was very useful when most of Briam’s thoughts were elsewhere, as they were tonight. She prompted him through the announcement of the harvest schedule virtually word by word. When he was done speaking and had escaped back to his lute, Akila wondered if he had any idea of what he had said, or indeed, if he even grasped that the harvest would begin the next day.

Judging from a conversation she overheard a bit later, she was not alone in her doubts.

“Quite an unusual heir our lord has.” The voice was male, but not one Akila could put a face to. “Of course, it’s not like he has much choice, having only the one son.”

“Lord Briam’s not so bad.” That voice Akila did recognize; it belonged to the arms-master, now old enough to be semi-retired. “He’s a good fighter when he puts his mind to it.”

“And what do you have to do to get his attention on fighting?” the first man challenged. “Threaten to smash his lute?”

The arms-master chuckled indulgently. “It’s not quite that bad. Good dancers are frequently good fighters, and he’s quite good at both. No, Lord Briam will do well enough as long as Lady Akila stands by him. She’s got the common sense of the pair.”

“Of the family, belike. At least she stays here and pays attention to what’s going on, instead of being off campaigning half the year. How much land can one man hold, anyway? And our lord sees more of his horse than he does of his children. Small wonder that his son is a dreamer and his daughter takes more after Galin than her own father.”

“We can use more than one of Galin—or Lady Akila. We couldn’t support more than one of our lord.”

“True enough. But I’d pity those children, if it weren’t for the fact that if they mess things up, we will be the ones to be pitied.”

“Don’t you worry. They’ll do all right, as long as they have each other.”

They moved out of earshot then, leaving Akila puzzled. Why should anyone pity her and Briam? And why should they think that the twins would want to see more of their father? Life went much more smoothly when he was away than when he was home finding fault with things and filling the castle with extra soldiers, some of whom were greatly lacking in manners.

~o0o~

Akila had just finished putting the chapel in order the next morning when she heard a commotion in the courtyard. She hastily went out the door, which was adjacent to the west wall at the very back of the keep, hoping that whatever the fuss was, it would be something minor. Halfway down the courtyard there was a group of maidservants, all crowded together around something. Several of them were crying, but Akila recognized the one closest to her as one of the laundry maids, who cried when a leaf fell from a tree. She pushed her way unceremoniously toward the center of the disturbance, looking for someone who could give a coherent answer to a simple question.

At the center of the group she found Galin, kneeling beside Marfa, who lay on the ground with her leg at a very odd angle. Marfa’s eyes were closed and her face screwed up with pain, but she wasn’t making a sound. Typical, Akila thought. Marfa never had much patience with anyone who made a display of her emotions.

Galin looked up and saw her. “Akila, Marfa has fallen and broken her leg.”

“Oh, no!” Akila said, trying to sound sympathetic rather than the way she really felt, which was frightened and overwhelmed. If Marfa couldn’t do her work, Akila would be overburdened indeed. And if she couldn’t take her part in the daily ritual... it was bad enough being short one member of the priesthood, but with two missing the ritual would be impossible. And bad things happened when the rituals weren’t done. “What did she fall off of?”

“Nothing.” One of the maids answered, sounding terrified. “She just fell down in the middle of the courtyard. My lady, do you think it be witchcraft?”

Akila looked at her in disgust. “No, Berna, I do not think it anything of the sort!”

“Indeed not,” Galin agreed calmly. “It is not uncommon for women of a certain age to break bones like this.”

One of the kitchen maids said quickly, “That’s true. The same thing happened to my grandmother last year.”

“Your grandmother died,” Berna pointed out.

“Enough!” Akila snapped. “Galin, get some men and a stretcher and have her carried to her room. Berna, got get the midwife. The rest of you, get back to work.”

Akila took Galin’s place by Marfa’s side as everyone else scattered. She took Marfa’s hand, and the bony fingers closed convulsively around hers. “Don’t worry, Marfa,” Akila said soothingly. “Everything will be all right.”

Marfa’s eyes opened and looked straight into Akila’s. “It’s starting,” she said softly. “Be brave, girl.”

“What’s starting?” Akila asked. But Marfa closed her eyes again and did not speak further.

Fifteen minutes later, Akila stood with Galin outside Marfa’s room, waiting for the midwife. A horrible thought occurred to her. “Galin? When she said last night that she could feel in her bones that a new priest would come—”

“I’m sure this is just an unfortunate coincidence,” Galin said soothingly. “After all, Marfa is not a young woman, and it is not at all uncommon for women of her age to suddenly suffer broken bones.”

Akila frowned. “I do hope you’re right,” she said, “but I have a very bad feeling about this.”

~o0o~

The rest of the day was a nightmare. Quite apart from her sympathy for Marfa’s pain, Marfa’s incapacity put all of her duties on Akila’s shoulders—and on the first day of harvest, those duties were considerable. By mid-afternoon Akila had a pounding headache and had retreated to her room, hoping that a few minutes of quiet would relieve the worst of the pain.

~o0o~

“Akila!”

Akila groaned. Briam’s shout echoed up the stairwell, bouncing off the stones of the tower and mingling with the sound of his pounding feet on the wooden stairs. She hoped that whatever Briam wanted was something trivial. Knowing Briam, it could be something as simple as his inability to find his riding boots, which Akila had seen him kick under his bed when he took them off last night.

“Akila!” Briam arrived at the doorway of her room gasping from his run up the stairs.

Whatever he wants, Akila thought, it’s probably not that he can’t find his boots.

“There’s an army heading this way!”

Akila started at him in surprise, momentarily forgetting the pounding in her head. “Are you telling me that Father is actually coming home in time for harvest this year?” she asked. “He hasn’t done that since we were eight! How far away are they?”

“Down where the trail starts to get steep and narrow,” Briam replied. “They won’t be here for at least two hours, and probably closer to three. “But, Akila,” he paused for emphasis, “it’s not Father.”