Chapter 3

Antonin had meantime not moved far from the innkeeper. He wanted to hear all that was said. Normally he would not be welcome at a council meeting. The village senior men and those from the farms, like his father belonged to the council. Meetings were held regularly and usually consisted of little more than minor dispute resolution. There was often lots of drinking of ales and wines to accompany the deliberations. This meeting was going to be different. There were still people trickling into the village from outlying farms. Riders had been dispatched to them as soon as the alarm had been raised.

Horses were being unsaddled, wagons unhitched and the animals led to the common. People milled about the front of the inn still, unsure of what to do.

The common room was jammed to the rafters with people. Yet, a small circle was left around Mei’An and Luan. Master Domain stood uneasily in the circle. Raising his hands, he attempted to quiet the people in the room. The hub hub of voices only grew louder as people tried to get answers to unanswerable questions – and still more people tried to crowd into the inn. Even the goodwives from the farms now pressed into the throng causing some consternation to those whom they bumped. Men muttered quick apologies when they realized that it was someone’s wife who had bumped them or stepped on their toes. There were many wide eyes at the sight of the women inside the common room.

All had heard of the arrival of Mei’An and her Guard Companion by now, and those still in the square when she had stepped out of the wagon were first to follow her into the inn. Everyone wanted to see these people from their childhood stories for themselves. Not least the women who naturally had a great attraction to such a one of their own.

Suddenly the room went as quiet as a still foggy morning by the ponds. Mei’An was standing calmly with her hands clasped in a relaxed grip in front of her and a small smile on her lips. A pale blue haze surrounded her. It shimmered like the afterglow of a lightning strike. The aura surrounding her also created a faint smell of ozone in the common room. People goggled and tried to push back further into the crowd. Those in the back who couldn't see were trying to push forward, and the crowd flowed and moved like the water in a stream. No one made a sound. Antonin snapped his mouth shut when he realized he was standing there with it hanging open.

Satisfied that all would remain quiet, Mei’An let the hazy blue aura fade. It had had the desired effect. The room was now quiet and still. Into the silence Daga Domain spoke. His voice seemed louder than it should be. He was very nervous.

“My friends,” began the innkeeper. “We have witnessed strange events this day and I have no explanation. Are there any here who have suffered injury or misfortune? We must first assess damage I believe.” Master Domain let his hands fall to his sides.

Voices called from the crowd.

“My child fell from the wagon. The Women’s Circle attend to her now.” Called one man.

“I was bitten by a dog.” Called another. This caused a ripple of mirth in the room.

“My barn fell down!” Called one from the doorway. There were others of a similar nature. Structural damage to farm buildings, minor hurts to people but nothing really serious it seemed.

“My wagon is damaged badly.” Said the Trader into the lull. The tone of his voice caused some shifting of feet by those near to him.

“You will be well rewarded for your troubles.” Said Mei’An to the Trader. “Your wagon will be repaired by the local wagon builder, and your horses tended in the stables by Master Domain’s assistants. Those concerned shall come to me regarding payment.”

The Trader nodded, well satisfied. He had expected no less. He was surprised however when Mei’An added. “And you shall put up here in the inn while we await repairs and conduct our business.”

The Trader made to protest. They rarely stayed under a roof and never asked more in payment than their due. One glance at Luan though told him that on this occasion he would sleep in the comfort of the inn.

The innkeeper turned to Mei’An, his hands outspread in a gesture that clearly said he was at a loss as to what came next. Equally clearly the gathered people expected someone to tell them what had happened. Already there had been mutterings heard about this being the work of the Dark One. Perhaps even the beginning of a New Age. The end of an Old. Such upheaval of the earth itself was unknown and must hold serious portent.

“People of the village,” began Mei’An. “You all know that the Oath Breaker, the Father of Lies, the Dark Lord remains imprisoned in the Great Wheel of Sara Sara, along with twelve of his closest servants.”

With the mention of the Dark Lord a sigh went out from the crowd. A falling pin could have been heard clearly. It seemed even the boards of the inn itself had stopped creaking the better to listen.

Antonin’s head spun. The floor seemed to lurch up at him and he reeled backward as he looked suddenly into a mask like face as black as the blackest night. It’s eye sockets were windows into a furnace that blazed with a horrible red fire. A careless laugh roared from its throat in belching flames. Antonin let out a roar of fright as the men behind tried to push him forward off their toes. As suddenly as it had appeared to Antonin it was gone. He looked about in surprise and consternation. Everyone in the room was looking at him.

“What ails you boy?” Master Domain shook a finger at him. Antonin was obviously the only one to have seen the ghastly vision. He shook his head to clear it and mumbled apologies to those around him.

“It’s nothing Master Domain, I'm sorry. I er .. stubbed my toe. I think.”

The innkeeper shook his head and dismissed the interruption. Everyone’s attention was back on the innkeeper. Except Mei’An and Luan. Mei’An was looking directly at Antonin with an unwavering, unblinking gaze. Her clear dark eyes like bottomless river pools. If Antonin had not been so on edge now, he would have missed the fleeting look of surprise that had crossed her face. He didn't miss the sight of Luan’s long fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, some inches of steel showing above the scabbard. Nor did he miss the slight shake of the Wind Reader’s head that had the Companion slide the sword back home.

“Oh no,” thought Antonin. "Surely she didn't see it as well. She will think I'm a Dark Companion as surely as I stand here.”

Antonin was very shaken by the strange and terrible vision that had just assailed him, and Mei’An’s next words only served to make him worse.

“The Dark Lord seeks to escape his prison.” A woman nearby wailed in anguish making the skin on Antonin’s forearms prickle.

“There is more,” Mei’An continued into the silence. “The Wheel of Sara Sara is moving again. One of his servants has already escaped and taken the Key to The Wheel. It is this key that has held the Great Wheel from turning in all these ages. Unless the key can be found and replaced in time… then once again the Father of Lies, the Lord of Darkness will be loosened upon the world.” Mei’An paused to gauge the effect of her words. She would need to control any panic, and looked for signs of it in the crowd. These folk were of solid stock, and now that the initial panic had passed were again in control of themselves. There was some muttering to be heard, but no raised voices.

Mei’An continued. “The upheaval across the country side was caused by the Great Wheel once again lurching into motion. It will not happen again I hope. However, be assured. The wheel turns again.”

“Then what should we do?” Cried a farmer.

“Who will help us if this evil is to escape?” Cried another from back in the crowd.

Everyone know the legends of course. They were bedside stories. More, they were the stories of the travelling minstrels. All the stories spoke of an age past when great evil had stalked the earth. Of tales of heroism by those aligned with the Light as they battled seemingly hopelessly with those aligned with the Dark. They were age old tales and made good stories. No one had really believed them of course. The few unexplained things that survived from past ages were put down to mystery, and left alone. There were prophesies too. They spoke of an age to come when the Evil One would again rule the world, unless a young maiden found the Key and locked the wheel until the Creator saw fit to deal with the Dark One.

It was partly this that created the traditions of the Spear Maiden clans. All who took up the life secretly hoped that it would be she who sealed up the Evil One forever and assured herself a place in the stories.

“It will suffice,” Mei’An thought as she calmly surveyed the crowd. “They are strong people. The old ways run deep here.”

Mei’An spoke out. “Those who would return the Key live in the district. One is in this room.”

The quiet spell was broken as people turned to look at each other and question. “One of us, and in this room?” It hardly seemed possible.

Antonin began to get a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Somehow he knew he was involved, and he knew also that he didn't want to be.

He had been raised on the tales surrounding the prophesies and he knew that if they were to come true by his hand, his life of peace on the Star Field Plain would be exchanged for one of danger and difficulty beyond knowing. War and turbulence would follow him across the world.

He wanted no part of it.

Coming back to the present from his inward speculation, he realized that something outside was attracting everyone’s attention.

One of the serving girls pushed into the common room. “The entire clan of Maidens is assembling on the common.” She said.

Mei’An moved to the common room door. Indeed, every member of every clan in the village was assembled in the square. There were thousands, of all ages and levels. Even the village and farm people were impressed. It was not often all the warriors were seen gathered in one place.

Without preamble Mei’An spoke in a voice seemingly quiet to those who stood near to her, yet carrying clearly to the most distant Maiden on the edge of the common.

“To you comes the honour.” She spoke and her voice boomed across the square and out across the common. She seemed to grow in size as she continued to speak. As the villagers watched in awe, Mei’An seemed to fill the space between the floor and the overhanging roof, so tall had she seemed to become. “The Maidens of the Stone Lion sept have among them one who will be remembered for ever if she succeeds. It will be she who will seek the Great Key to the Wheel. Already she knows who she is, for she has faced the Dark Lord this day. He knows of her also.”

The villagers eyed each other apprehensively. The gathered Mare Altan stood unconcerned. They had believed all along that they were the ones and that of all the groups of Mare Altan scattered across the Star Field Plain, that it would be from their ranks that the one chosen to seal up the Dark Lord for ever would come.

That Mei’An had now seemed to assume the proportions of a person twice that of a normal human being left everyone speechless. No one could believe their eyes. All of course had heard that the Wind Readers had very powerful talents. Face to face with them the simple living villagers and farmers were sure that if they moved a hair at this point the Wind Reader would surely turn on them as mere humans to be swept aside in the great battle they were sure was now upon them. The leaders of the Mare Altan stepped forward as a group. Some twelve women, hardly distinguishable from the others about them except perhaps for age and the streaks of grey in the hair. Each had an intricate tattoo in a circle like a bracelet around their upper right arm. They showed no sign of fear or apprehension at the sight of Mei’An towering above them.

One stepped forward from the group.

“I am called Riadia. I speak for all.” She casually waved in an all encompassing sweep of her arm at those behind her.

“If there be one amongst us who is called to this duty…,” she hesitated just a fraction. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Disbelieve maybe. She went on, the hesitation barely lasting an eye blink. “..She is not called alone. Know it now Wind Reader that we are bound to serve by the ancient prophesies and if one is so called then as are we all. Will you name the one?”

Riadia stood waiting. She knew the show of power by Mei’An was just that. To calm the villages and farmers, she needed to demonstrate to them that there was a powerful force on their side. One strong enough to bring down Dark Companions and their like at a single stroke. Riadia, of all present, had lived long and knew the ways of the Wind Readers. She knew as well that Mei’An had not finished with her demonstration. This towering person before her had not actually changed her physical shape. She was using the True Power to modify what others saw. The True Power was well understood by the leaders of the Mare Altan. They were only able to summon the millionth part of it, but it was enough to set them apart and for this reason they were able to assume leadership. The True Power, or the Breath of Life as it was known to the Mare Altan was drawn from the very life force of the world. Every living thing, every inanimate thing, even the rocks and the oceans and the very air they breathed could not be without the True Power. The Wind Readers were those who were able to fully harness it fully. With it they could move mountains it was said. Wind Readers were always women and it had been so since the dawn of time. Once men had been able to touch the power, but the last had been long dead. The Lord of the Dragon Armies had been the last. It had been he who had finally imprisoned the Dark Lord in his wheel in Sara Sara. When he had died, the ability in men had died with him. The legends spoke of a son and a daughter who had survived the great upheavals that had wrecked the world as the Dark Lord had raged in his prison, but there was no record of them and no tales told of their lives. The last resting place of the Lord of the Dragon Armies had never been located. He had been pursued by the terrible armies raised to defend the Dark Lord, and had, it was said, died in a place far from his lands.

Mei’An was concentrating on the faces of the crowd. Her size and now a deep frown creasing her otherwise smooth features as she scanned the villagers and maidens before her began to get everyone on edge. Except the Mare Altan. No one could look at Mei’An without dropping their gaze. Even those distant at the edge of the throng felt as though the Wind Reader was facing them nose to nose. It didn't help matters when Luan, her Guard Companion suddenly stepped forward to a position just in front of Mei’An. His sword flashed into his hand from the scabbard by his side. His stance might appear casual but Antonin could see he was poised to strike. Recognising the form of the stance from those his father had taught him Antonin was instantly on edge. He quietly unslung his bow. Casually. Slowly. He didn't want to alarm anyone. He nocked a fine-head hunting arrow and put tension on the string. Scanning the surrounding buildings quickly, he knew where every nail in every wall was, and he looked for something out of place. Antonin had played with his friends in these safe streets since he was old enough to toddle. Now he looked for the unfamiliar. Whatever it was that had caused the Wind Reader and her Guard Companion to tense must be there. They were strangers to the village though, and might not recognise something as being out of place. Suddenly Antonin raised his bow and let fly the arrow in one motion. A night black raven screeched and fell amid a flutter of torn feathers from the roof peak of the stables looking onto the square from the far side. Luan whirled to face Antonin as he heard the thrum of the bow string. The arrow had already brought down its target. Luan’s intent was obvious. Antonin was within a heartbeat of death from the flashing blade of the Guard Companion.

“Hold!” Mei’An roared the command. At the same time she caught the blade in its descent. Seemingly undistracted, her gaze fixed on a point across the square, her left arm out stretched and fingers pointing she held the blade in her right. Antonin’s eyes bulged. It was impossible. Her hand should have been sliced like soft butter by such a blade. Yet she held it and her Guard Companion motionless. Suddenly from her left hand she unleashed a bolt of blinding light that flashed into the crowd by the stable. People were scrambling over each other and shouting and pushing to clear space around the person struck by the bar of searing light. That had been a man, now shrieking in agony and still upright. He had become a walking torch, the flames consuming his entire body as yet he remained on his feet lurching forward. The apparition, once a man, alternated between howls of purest agony and guttural roars of frustrated cursing, as it tried to cross the square toward the inn steps where stood Mei’An.

Mei’An released the blade she had held. Not a mark on her hand betrayed what she had done. She had resumed her normal size at the instant Antonin had unleashed his arrow.

“There is our enemy Luan. Not the boy. Go – finish it. I will not give these good people more to fear than I can help.”

Without so much as a glance at Antonin, still awaiting the fall of the blade it seemed, Luan stalked out to meet the creature lurching and stumbling across the square.

It saw him coming, although none could guess how it still lived, nor how it could see. Luan knew it now for what it was. Or what it had been. A servant of the Dark Lord.. A soulless one. So called because they had given their very souls to the Lord of the Dark in exchange for the promise of wealth and power when he escaped his prison. It was a tool of the Dark Lord and nothing more. He fed on their souls and steadily gained his power. A poor exchange indeed.

Antonin saw movement near a chimney stack across the way. His second arrow brought down another raven in a tumble of feathers. Now the thing that had been blazing in the square began to stumble about directionless. The fierce flames arising from it still giving off clouds of soot and creating a stink that had strong men covering their noses. The crowd in the square had pressed well back leaving it almost empty. Luan saw a moment as the flames abated and the remnants of the man stood still and in a heartbeat had struck off its head. The still upright body took a few halting steps and toppled to the ground. The head rolled in the dust and continued to mouth silent curses as the light in its eyes slowly dimmed.

“It will be a long time dying,” Said Luan to no one in particular. “unlike one who nearly met the Creator this day.” So saying he looked directly at Antonin as he cleaned his sword on some discarded hay and slipped it back into its sheath.

Mei’An was looking thoughtfully at Antonin as calm returned to the crowd. With a raised eyebrow – Antonin had seen that look before from village women – she said in a light tone."So you know a Dark One’s watcher when you see one my young friend?” The statement was a question.

“I know only that something had caused you and your Companion,” he glanced at Luan. “To be on guard. There are no ravens in this village so the removal of those two – well certainly the first one, seemed the natural thing to do. I could see nothing else out of place.” Antonin almost mumbled the last. He was still a young man and had no experience with beautiful women. His friends of course were of both sexes, but they were friends and the girls he had grown up with. He didn't know if they were beautiful. He never thought about it. They were just his friends. He knew Mei’An was beautiful though. He also knew from his own limited experience that the questioning raise of the eye brow meant the Wind Reader was now giving him her full attention.

It was only of late that some of the mothers of the village and nearby farms had raised just such an eyebrow at him, accompanied by statement like "So your Age Day comes after next harvest young Master Antonin?” Even, “I saw you walking with a girl last evening on the common young Master Antonin, was that my young…?” The questions to his father were even more alarming. "Setting aside some land for young Master Antonin are you Cable Ruhul?” Antonin certainly knew what that meant. He would mumble his apologies and escape as quickly as feet would carry him.

Women were very strange and he thought it best to avoid the mothers of his friends where possible. He could not escape this one though. He felt as though his feet had grown roots into the veranda planks.

“Do you know young farmer, that those ravens were the eyes of the Dark Spawn that now lays in your village square. It is well that you are so quick or I might not be here now. Normally I know when the servants of the Dark are near, but the crowd gave this one much cover. It was only the first bird falling at its feet that gave it away. If the second one had escaped it would have returned directly to Sara Sara. We must make urgent plans.” Mei’An half turned to the village square.

“Riadia, bring Catharina to me please. Instruct the other Maidens to prepare for the defence of the village, and themselves for battle. Have someone remove that stinking mess and bury it deep in a pit far from the village. Antonin, Luan – with me.” So saying she strode into the inn, men and women alike pressing back to give her passage.

“Innkeeper,” she said to Daga Domain “please have a village feast day prepared. Mark the day with festivities. It will be the last such day for a long time.”

“Wind Reader,” called a farmer. “Is the danger past then?”

“For today it is good farmer. You and others should help Master Domain set up festivities. Why, you even have a Trader in your midst, and with everyone from far and wide in town his wares will not go far I think.”

Mei’An smiled to herself as she saw the everyday ideas of festivals and bargaining with a Trader take hold of the thoughts of the villagers.

Soon there was much going on as people began to organise the trappings of a fair. Even some of the Mare Altan were pressed into service by their kin. Most though kept to their task of setting up the defensive perimeters around the village. Smaller groups were sent out into the surrounding plain on scouting parties. The gathering darkness was no hindrance. The star filled night sky would give plenty of light.

“Master Domain, do you have a private dining room, away from all the noise?” Asked Mei’An.

"Surely, I do Mistress Wind Reader and welcome you do be to use it. This way if you please.” Master Domain led the party along the hall by the common room to a smaller room dominated by a large round table. There were high backed chairs all around it and a fire crackled in the hearth. The room was well lit with candles and lamps that had been hurried in by the serving girls.

Antonin took a look behind him as he followed the Wind Reader into the inn. Darkness had by now fallen. Only a red tinge along the horizon showing the passage of the sun. The day's events had seemed to hurry the passing of time, and were it not for the crystal clear sky even this late Antonin would not have seen the flight of ravens. High up and silhouetted against the brighter sky they were winging away in the direction of The Dragon Spine. Antonin could not begin to guess at the implications. The village square was falling into deep shadow, until men began to bring out burning torches to light the work to be done. With deep reservations Antonin turned and followed the others into the private dining room.

Mei’An had moved around the table and taken up a chair facing the door. Luan, her Guard Companion took up a position beside the door. His face stony and expressionless, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the sword at his side, the flickering light glinting off the hilt of the other strapped to his back where it protruded above his right shoulder, he would let nothing and no one through the door who wasn't invited.

Antonin entered reluctantly. His whole family was now in town and preparing for a festival. He thought he would much rather be with them than here with a Wind Reader and her Guard Companion. This was an exciting day and no doubt stories would be told about it for years to come. If not for generations. This day might even make it into the travellers' tales and spread across the entire country. Antonin was a young man and wanted to be with his friends in the thick of the preparations.

Riadia entered with Catharina, and Mei’An motioned them to a place facing Antonin across the table. Riadia was dressed in her official capacity. That is she had put on a full skirt of dark brown, and donned her jewellery of necklaces and rings. Thin chains of gold and silver adorned her long hair, and a wide belt of silver circled her waist. Her blouse was pure white and of the finest spun cotton, imported all the way from the capital of a distant country by a Trader. She had parted with the battle axe of a Catharsis warrior for that material, and it had only been worn twice before in all the years since she had made it. Mei’An appreciated the gesture being made by Riadia. She was being honoured by the woman. Mei’An offered polite comments on the whiteness of the material, and the skill of the seamstress in making it. Riadia permitted herself a small smile. Compliments were rare and not unwelcome.

Catharina was still dressed as she had been when out on the plain with Antonin. She still bore the signs of her unhorsing, fingering her scalp carefully where she had cracked it in falling. Antonin caught her eye and grinned. Mei’An waited in silence. There were others to come although she did not know who. It would be interesting to see who it was. Antonin’s quick grin at Catharina had not gone unnoticed by Mei’An. Nor had Catharina’s fleeting grin in return. Catharina though was in the company of her clan chief, and Riadia had not gained that position by smiling at the boys. Catharina swallowed and kept her eyes down. Riadia was head of all the septs, as well as the clan. Not only her in the village but across the whole Star Field Plain and Da Altai. A woman of great power. Normally Catharina would only find herself in the presence of this woman if she was in serious trouble, or being honoured for hard won battle victory.

“Well,” thought Mei’An, watching this little play. “All might change before too much longer.” She waited patiently. Some time passed. Antonin began to fidget and Catharina kicked him in the shin under the table. At least he though it must have been her, but she hadn't so much as glanced at him. Riadia knew the Wind Reader was waiting for something. Someone. She too was good at waiting and would not press the moment.

The recent display in the square had brought home to all that troubled times were ahead. Riadia knew that somehow Antonin and Catharina were at the heart of what lay ahead. She could not help wondering how, but she had not reached her present status by being impatient. Riadia sat, hands folded in her lap and looking straight ahead. To any who might look at her she seemed lost in thought. Riadia had considerable age upon her but the only evidence seemed to be the grey at her temples, and small lines about her eyes. Riadia still fought with the Mare Altan when necessary, and her life was every bit as hard as that of the girls new to the ranks. There were others of lesser rank of course, but all earned their positions through the unanimous selection of the clan members. Only after reaching leadership did they receive full initiation into the hidden talents of the Wind Readers. It was a very rare event, and the Wind Readers had to be located. They never came to the village. Always, those who would be trained had to journey to find them. The women of the Mare Altan were never refused, although it was whispered that there had been some long ago.

Mei’An knew all this. There were very few of her kind in the world. Perhaps she herself had given the limited training to this Riadia. The training was meant to enhance already latent abilities in all the females of these high plains. Mei’An had often thought she might try to discover why it was that this ability was born into these people. She pondered that now. She could sense the power in the woman Riadia, and also to a lesser degree in Catharina. There was something…. from Antonin too, but she could not put a finger on it. Different, yet the same. She dared not think that she had chanced upon the very descendants of the ancient line that reached right back to the Dragon Throne. It was said that the Lord of the Dragon Armies had been the last male born with the Power of the Wind, and no one knew exactly where he had ended his days.

Time dragged on. The sounds of merriment filled the night and the light from bonfires lit the village green. Those in the common room had helped the innkeeper move his barrel rack out onto the green. Thirsty work after the excitement of the earlier day. Laughter bubbled to the surface as the tensions eased and Master Domain’s good ale began to flow freely. Someone struck up a tune on a hammered dulcimer, and was soon accompanied by a player on a stringed instrument that looked like a large melon sliced in half and attached to a long pole. A bow string was drawn back and forth across the taught strings and the sounds carried far into the night. People were dancing, and though out all ran the children laughing and yelling in delight at being up so late. The people of the district were farmers, blacksmiths, wheel wrights, builders and wives and mothers. Their daily life was simple as they worked out a living on the wide plains. Although none complained – there was no thought of it, a moments rest and merriment with friends was a welcome break from the endless round.

People crowded around the huge wagon of the Trader. He had dropped a plank board side to form a raised stage upon which he now strode. Indeed he had much to trade and there had not been a trader through the village in more years than anyone cared to remember. The children in the throng had eyes as big as saucers. The Trader was in full voice. A theatrical tone and volume guaranteed to carry to the edge of the common. He had laces from the mysterious lands of the East. From places no one had heard of. Fired pots and dishes of porcelain that rang like bells as the Trader flicked their rims with his fingers. The patterns were of flowers and willow trees and strange people in long flowing robes. Some were purchased and would be put on display on mantles. None would be given ordinary daily use. The Trader spoke of people with raven black almond eyes and black hair that hung straight. Not a curl, and skin like burnished gold. He told of the distances that he had transported the goods. Just so that the people of this village alone could be the first to sample his wares. Wondrous material they made as well. The thread produced by caterpillars that turned into butterflies. None actually believed that of course, but it was not only the children he held spellbound with his tales. These bolts of material the Trader called silk were dyed in the colours of the rainbows. Gasps escaped the villagers mouths as they were brought forth. Such colours had never been seen. Even in the yellow light of the bonfires the material shimmered and flowed. None of the women could think of what they could use such material for, but every last one wanted a length. Perhaps ribbons or festival cloths. Who knew. It was too wondrous to pass.

The disbelieving laughter at the Traders tales was good natured though and if it took a little girls fancy to think that butterflies spun the thread into material that glowed in the night, then the Trader too enjoyed a good laugh. He knew the truth of it. He would not have believed it himself if he had not seen it with his own eyes. He had also seen what had happened to the Trader who had tried to get out of that far country with a box of the tiny grubs that spun the thread. The country of Hua Guo it was called. Difficult to pronounce, just as their language was difficult to grasp. But the language of a Trader was understood everywhere. The Traders were the only outsiders let into the country, and it had been a considerable surprise when Mei’An and her Guard Companion Luan had sought passage with him on his return journey out of that country. He had been even more surprised when he had found himself agreeing to take them half way across the world to end up in this place.

The laces, fine platters and silks were much exclaimed over but none could really afford more than small cuts of the rich materials, and only those particularly taken by the beauty of the porcelain had dared spend so much on them. The things that did get snapped up were the tools, the plain woven cloths to make work clothes and dresses and babies wear, the serviceable cooking pots and table ware. The things that had uses in daily life. The bolts of shimmering silk were left carelessly displayed on the stacked boxes at the back of the stage. It never occurred to anyone that someone could have made a dress out of such material.

Suddenly the Trader with grand gestures drew everyone’s attention to a red lacquered box he held aloft. He placed it on a stand in the centre of the platform where he stood. A hush fell as attention centred on the intricately carved red box. Bright brass hinges on one side and a simple brass hasp on the other. With a flourish the Trader flung back the lid and lifted out a dress of the brightest yellow that anyone had ever seen. Made entirely from silk, the dress shimmered in the light as though alive. There was a fine pattern of flowers woven into the length of the dress. Tiny white flowers no bigger than a babies fingernail. As the Trader lifted the dress clear of the box and held it up on a specially designed hanger, it could be seen in its entirety. It was full length and shaped like a sheath that wrapped partially around the body. It was fastened at the side, in a wrap around effect across the bodice to fasten on the shoulder, and had a high collar that would come almost half way up the neck.

The colour was so bright it hurt the eyes but no one could look away. Nothing like it had ever been seen. It would only fit a young woman. Probably no more than the size of a girl; but there it was and every man in the gathering had stopped breathing as they pictured their wife or daughter or girl friend in the dress, parading on Year Day or at Betrothal. Such a person would hold their own with the nobles from far off cities in such a dress.

With a flourish of deft hands the Trader had the beautiful silk dress back in the lacquered box.

A sigh went up from the crowd as people realized that the dress was never for them. It was so eye catching, but where could it be worn in this small village? Not a person in the district except perhaps the innkeeper could afford such finery. The innkeeper’s wife had sampled too much of her own cooking for it to fit her. Someone in the crowd made such a comment and earned the glares of the innkeeper. As he scowled about him there was good natured chuckling from the crowd. The Trader went back to displaying his wares. The things village people could and would buy. Sewing materials. Fancy buttons. Good serviceable working materials in browns blues and greens. Knives, stones, shears and tools of all kinds. Trading began in earnest. The locals had hides to trade. Raw tin and silver in small quantities. Even traces of gold gleaned from the rocky slopes of the Dragon Spine Mountains far across the plains. Sometimes men went hunting there, and in the evenings would pass the time in the small streams searching under stones for the glittering specks. Occasionally someone would have a silver coin. Most often coppers though. Small round coins with a square hole stamped in the middle. These coins had been in circulation forever it seemed. There was some indication that they had been passed down from a past age even. Long long ago, an exchange value had been worked out for them and had never changed. The passing soldiers of the Queen always had coppers. The officers as well. Daga Domain the innkeeper only dealt in coin with outsiders. Locals were different. If they had coin, fine. If not, then often the larder was well stocked with traded goods.

There were also coins found in the ruins out on the plain to the south of the village. The ruins were so old that only a few stone slabs now showed above the ground. The coins, and sometimes small artefacts that worked their way to the surface were always silver. Although not coin of the realm like the copper and silver coins used in trade, they still had the value of the silver content and had their own price. The coins had a strange script on them, like brush strokes. Some resembled the coins in current use, even the script seemed familiar in places but they were different. Such finds were rare though and only one coin of gold had ever been found. It’s weight made it very valuable. It probably could have been used to purchase the entire village had it been for sale. It was the innkeeper who possessed it. He had taken his old stock of ale kegs to the huge stone slabs of the ruins, along with barrels of water to clean and scour the kegs ready for the next years batch. The water flowing from the huge stones during his labours had uncovered the coin. It had lain there glinting in the sun like a beacon. He could not believe his eyes at the time. The coin was useless though. No one he knew would be able to accept it in payment due to it’s obvious value. It could not be melted down for jewellery. Objects found in the old foundations had a mystery about them, and there was an unspoken objection to destroying them in any way. The coin now resided in a small wooden box on the shelf above the main counter of the inn.

Daga Domain looked at the Trader. Here in front of him now was perhaps the only person capable of exchanging such a coin. If indeed the coin was valuable enough to exchange for that fabulous dress that the Trader had even now packed safely back into the wagon.

Master Domain and his good lady wife had three children. The oldest daughter was coming up to Naming Day in some months time. Daga knew too that a certain young man in the village had been spending a lot of time in his yards and stables of late. Chopping wood, mulching out, anything to stay in sight of the inn. In the event that his eldest daughter happened across the yard, well, a few words exchanged was only polite. Neither of the young ones seemed to realize that their parents were well aware of what was really happening.

Master Domain waited. He did not want the entire village to see him purchase the most fabulous dress he had ever set eyes on. He had seen his daughter’s face when she had watched the trader displaying the dress. He had vowed then that on the day she married, she would be in that dress.

He knew it would be worn only the once in its life. Perhaps it would bring luck to his daughter. Her wedding day would be remembered in the village forever.

He had to catch the eye of the Trader. No matter. The Trader would be staying indoors this night so there was plenty of time.

The press of people with empty ale mugs brought the innkeeper out of his musings.

"Sleeping on your feet?” Cried a friendly voice.

“Wants to join the women to trade!” Cried another.

“Hopes the Trader will change his gold Talon.” Cried another. That brought him back to earth with a thud. Too near the truth. Daga glared around him.

“Ale you want, ale you shall have, and keep your coppers this night. The world changes and we will start a new accounting on the morrow I'll warrant.”

Someone struck up a tune on a Bittern, someone joined in a song and soon there was merriment and dancing across the common, with a hub of people still around the Traders wagon.

The Trader bargained with a pot of ale in one hand and his goods in the other. Laugh as he might it was a hard bargain he still drove.

Trading slowed as people drifted away to join friends singing at laden tables. Everyone it seemed who could play any sort of instrument was doing so, sometimes back to back at adjoining tables. It promised to be a long night.

Mei’An sat calmly, listening to the festivities outside. She watched Antonin and Catharina out of the corner of her eyes. They both fidgeted now as the sounds of revelry drifted in from the common. Their feet shuffled under the table as though they would take flight any moment.

For all the noise outside the group around the table hardly breathed. Antonin could stand it no longer. His friends were out there, some unseen for weeks. His recent brush with death only a memory as he listened for familiar voices. His glances at Catharina told him she was thinking the same as he. Antonin opened his mouth to tell Mei’An that this was stupid. About to ask the point of this waiting game. His mouth stayed open as his two closest friends along with a half dozen of the Mare Altan burst into the room. The Guard Companion, Luan, never moved an eyelid. It was obvious he had been expecting them. Mei’An only raised a questioning eyebrow. Riadia stood. At the same time Antonin and Catharina leapt to their feet. The friends who had burst through the door slid to a stop in a confusion of questions.

“Antonin, come join the festivities!”

“Catharina, what do you here?”

“Our pardon Riadia, we didn't know you were in here.”

“Pardon Wind Reader, we did not mean…”

Gradually quiet settled. Mei’An rose gracefully to her feet.

“Luan,” she said. “It is done. Know these people well, for they are the ones for whom the world waits.”

So saying, Mei’An addressed the group.

"We awaited those who could be called by Antonin and Catharina. They are strong in The Way of the Wind, and have drawn those similarly empowered to them. We will secure the Key,” a pin dropping to the floor would have sounded loud in the room.

“… And we leave here this night.” She added, sweeping from the room, Luan turning and following without a word.

It was some moments before Antonin realized that he still had his mouth open. He snapped it shut with a click.

“We leave this night?” He asked no one in particular. His voice incredulous.

“Leave for where?” Said his friends almost in unison.

The Mare Altan, friends of Catharina, asked no questions. Riadia was a party to their gathering so if they left on a journey this night, then so be it.

The Mare Altan were ready on the instant for festivities or battle alike.

Antonin’s two closest friends Gaul and Rees had been friends from the cradle.

Gaul came from a farm adjoining Antonin’s fathers farm. Rees was from the village, and the son of the blacksmith. He was apprenticed to his father and enjoyed the work.

Antonin was standing at his place at the table, trying to grasp the meaning of Mei’An’s statement. His friends were speechless. What was this? The festivities continued outside. Yet here they stood like stone.

Antonin said to Riadia. “What does she mean by saying such a thing and then just walking out? No explanation at all!”