Lying to the council was hard, though not because lying went against her principles. No, the ability to pass off a falsity was a virtue. Still, when one stretched what was already a lie, there was little room for the new lie, and she had to be careful not to be caught in the folds of that second or third lie. She had told so many lies of late that she was unsure which was the truth and which was the lie. She could tell that the First Priest, Talem, had not believed her.
Her loyalty had been questioned. She was a priestess of Mother-Earth. So why did she aid the Priests of the Dark Flame? What was her connection to the frantic rounds of cleansing sweeping the kingdom? These were the questions that had been put to her repeatedly, and each time she had stated that there was a fine line between loyalties and that she, Midori, held loyalty to the greater of the causes.
She was tangled in the web deeper than anyone knew or could guess. Now she had only to maintain the facade one more day and then she would be safe, safe from all probing eyes and prying hands. She wouldn’t care what Talem did or said then. The council would be unable to touch her and she would be safe in High Temple.
Midori would have left that very night if she had been able to, but Talem was always pushing, always questioning. He would not discover her secrets no matter how hard he probed and no matter what tools he used to wrest those secrets from her. She knew this.
The private chamber she paced and schemed in seemed a tiny prison. She knew Talem had his spies that watched her through hidden peepholes. She did not care. Let them watch her, let them watch her all they wanted, she taunted in her mind. They would discover nothing. She was too clever, too quick, and had but a single night until freedom.
She inspected her bags to ensure they had not been tampered with and smiled as she ran her hands over a subtle seal. Talem would never have guessed that she would have the audacity to bring her secrets with her to council, but she had. Her heavy bags concealed two scrolls; there had been three but the first had already been given to a trusted messenger and delivered long ago. The last two were for her to handle alone. One she was to read after she spoke to council, which was now. The last, she was to deliver. To where, she did not yet know.
The impulse to pull the hidden scrolls from her bag ebbed as she forced herself to find control. She would wait. She had nearly succeeded and there was no need to be hasty when her goal was so close.
“Be gone!” she whispered to those unseen.
Casually, she untied the belt about her waist and let the loose-fitting, black robe slip from about her shoulders and cascade to the floor. A water basin stood in a corner. She dipped her long, black hair into the gently warmed waters.
Herbal scented soaps lined the wall to her left, but she took the plain, unscented bar to her right and used this to wash her hair. She moistened a cloth and dabbed it across her body to remove the day’s sweat and grime. It had been a long day. Rinsing in the warm waters was soothing and allowed some of the tenseness of the day to slip away.
A few more hours, she reminded herself as she lay down upon the bed, just a few more hours.
Only minutes later, a heavy knock at the door awoke her. She brushed her hair back casually and crossed to the door, opening it without hesitation. She looked on unwavering at the one who stood in the doorway. “Why Talem, do come in,” she said calmly.
Talem stepped into her room. “I will forgive you this day’s transgressions,” he began, “for I know how the times of equinox affect your kind. But do not try my patience thus in the future.”
“What kind would that be?” Midori shot back without thinking. She was so wrapped up in her current situation that she had forgotten to stay the flow of emotions within her, and this realization came to her just when she thought she was being so careful. Equinox was a time when the flow from the Mother was so strong that it could overcome her priestesses and drive them to do the irrational and spontaneous. There were many benefits to this, but they were not without certain disadvantages.
She didn’t let the priest speak before adding, “Do not worry, Talem. I am done here. Did you come to wish me a safe journey?”
“I know you hide something,” he said, stepping toward her. “I will find out what it is and then I will personally see that you are brought before the council.”
Midori was confident. “If I were hiding something, the council would have discovered it. I hide nothing, Talem. I spoke the truth and am exhausted of telling the truth. Now if you will please excuse me, I have a journey ahead of me tomorrow that demands an early start.”
“There is plenty of time to sleep. What I have to say will be quick, do not worry.” Talem took another step toward her and grinned. “Do you know that you are quite striking in your way?”
Midori backed away from him, shaking her head. Talem took another step toward her and flung her onto the bed. Midori shouted at him, “Do you seek to defile this vessel of the Mother?”
Talem drew up to his full height, an act that made him somehow appear less vicious. “You just remain still, I do not intend to touch you or to harm you. I merely wish to gain your full attention and I can see that I have it now.”
Midori didn’t say a word. She would let him think he had won this show of dominance.
“We are much alike you and I,” Talem began, “We are both users. We use those around us as tools to gain what we want.”
She wanted to scream at him that they were nothing alike, had never been anything alike and would never be anything alike, but she did not. She needed to be more aware of everything she did and said now more than ever if she was going to erase his suspicions.
“We have our moments,” she replied.
“Good, that is what I wanted to hear. Our relationship could go far. Do you know how much untapped potential is out there?” Talem chuckled. “Oh, if you only knew.”
She did. She said nothing.
“I need you on my side in this. I will forgive your earlier transgressions, just make no more.” His last few words lashed out at her with a harsh edge. He started to chuckle to himself again.
Midori looked up at him, her eyes seemingly receptive. She didn’t know what sort of game he was playing, but intended to go along with it for now. “I could become persuaded to your cause,” she told him.
“Very well then, there are two scrolls in your bag with the shaman’s own seal upon them,” this was not a subtle Would you fetch them? but a direct command to go get them now.
Midori didn’t hesitate or change her expression; yet within her world filled with sudden turmoil. She had been so careful, oh so very careful. She had to think fast and hide the excitement from her voice. “I wish I could, but you must know as well as I that they will not open for any other than the intended recipient, or otherwise you would have broken the seal days ago.”
Talem said nothing.
Midori’s racing heart slowed, though only slightly. The priest had given her a way out with his silence, or at least she hoped so. “I wish that I could tear them open with my bare hands, but I can not,” she said sounding exasperated, hoping she wasn’t being overly melodramatic.
“Yes, yes, I know the feeling. The shaman is a snake.”
“A vile, treacherous snake,” Midori added.
Talem grinned and then said, “It is good that we agree on this.” He paused and Midori continued her receptive stare. “Who are the scrolls intended for, perhaps this can shed some light?”
Names, demanded Midori of herself. She had to think quickly. She couldn’t let Talem believe she was stalling. She had been close, so close. She had to choose names that would cause no harm to her cause. Deciding, she stated, “One I am to deliver to an innkeeper, I would be certain that it pertains to a long overdue debt and contains empty promises to the individual that he will be paid in due time. The second is bound for High Priestess Jasmine; I do not understand it myself,” her aim was to gloss over the first with the more enticing second.
“Jasmine,” said Talem as if musing over the name, “that is interesting.”
“Yes, quite. Therefore, you see why I hasten to High Temple. If there is any chance that I can be present during the reading, I will surely take advantage of it and I will of course relay the information to you.”
Talem seemed pleased at the response. “Good, good,” he hissed, “but what of this innkeeper, what is his name?”
Midori had purposefully neglected to tell him this, hoping he would be more interested in the scroll directed to the High Priestess. “I’m not sure. Let me think. Oh, yes. Misha, his name is Misha, but he is harmless. As I have said, I would imagine it concerns a long overdue payment and I might even expect that it tells this innkeeper that he can get his payment from me.”
Midori saw Talem’s contemplative smile and continued, “I would wager that this is the reason the scroll is sealed. Can you imagine being told that you are to give payment for a debt you do not owe? I wonder what else the scroll promises.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” said Talem. “These are trying times… trying times indeed. Our relationship will go far if you continue this honesty with me. I will have the coach drawn up at once; mustn’t delay your departure to High Temple any longer. You have done well by me my dear, and I do not easily forget.” Again, his last phrasing held an edge and a subtle hint of retribution that would be taken if she crossed him.
Midori was about to respond, when Talem turned about and departed. She sighed.
“One more thing, Midori,” said the priest, turning back to her as he passed through the doorway.
Her heart leapt into her throat again, but she hid it well. “Yes?” she replied.
“I would expect to hear from you as soon as possible. Do not make me wait too long. I get impatient.” Those were Talem’s last words as he closed the chamber door behind himself.
Once the coach was drawn up and she was safely inside it, Midori wouldn’t care what he had said to her or what she had said to him; she would be safe and, very soon, far beyond his or anyone’s grasp.
A full day had passed before Xith felt strong enough to continue the journey northward, but in the three days since he and Vilmos had made excellent progress. They were now in the land known as South Province, a holding of Great Kingdom. The wounds Xith had suffered at the hands of the Wolmerrelle were healing nicely and now he looked to the days ahead.
The evil presence that had been with them those many days seemed to be gone—gone with Vangar Forest. Xith knew that all too soon the gentle wind-blown plains of this section of South Province would be gone as well. Their journey was taking them north to Great Kingdom and west to the great sea.
Soon it would be time to again work on awakening the power within the boy. Xith knew he must do this slowly and cautiously. To prepare Vilmos for the task ahead, one that only he could do, Xith must make the boy face his fears. In the end, there would be nowhere left to run from, only places to run to.
Vilmos had never been beyond the limits of the secret place he traveled to in his dreams, the confines of which he had been content to live in and would have been content to live in for the rest of his life. Suddenly a new world was opening to him. In it, he discovered new definitions of the boundaries around him and a thirst for knowledge of the outside world. The great windswept plains of South Province were truly beautiful—and a far stretch from the lands of desolation described in the Great Book.
Vilmos listened intently to the shaman’s words. Concentrating on this gave him something to focus on, which made it easier to forget all that was behind him.
“The element of fire is the easiest of the arcane elements to grasp initially. It is also the trickiest to control because of the tremendous raw power it taps,” Xith had warned him and Vilmos had taken this to heart. After only his third attempt at producing a spark to ignite wood he had performed, “well” as the shaman had put it, “magnificently” as he put it.
He had mastered his first incantation—the first incantation of the element fire. He could now touch delicate power to wood with apparent ease and produce a soft red-orange blaze. Vilmos looked forward to the next lesson, which Xith promised he would teach him soon.
Now it was time for a reprieve from the heavy cares of the world. Before they moved on to the next lesson, Xith had told Vilmos he intended to take them to a place where they could rest for a time.
Ahead in the distance lay a rustic trade center. It was built along the eastern bank of a river, near a ford. Its three small buildings in various stages of decay stood at the fore of the road, huddled around a two-story clapboarded building on which hung a tiny sign that read simply ‘Inn, All Welcome.’ Other than this sign the settlement was void of all appearances of habitation.
Closer inspection of the small inn showed that, although it was in an equal state of disrepair as the buildings surrounding it, it was a relatively new structure. Xith paused momentarily in the middle of the path and turned to look at Vilmos, then raised the hood of his cloak up over his head and pulled it forward to hide his face in the shadows it created. He motioned for Vilmos to do likewise. The sense of caution in Xith’s features told Vilmos to act without hesitation.
The interior of the inn was as untidy and unsightly as the exterior. The ground floor was largely dominated by an open, dimly lit chamber that contained several tables and many chairs, which were twisted and broken. Near an elongated staircase that led to the second floor sat a portly man upon a lonely unbroken chair. In front of him was the sole upright table.
The obese man, who Vilmos surmised to be the inn keep, had a rather unpleasant odor about him. He didn’t budge until he heard the sound of coinage dropping onto his tabletop and even then his only action was to point to the stairs, then raise three of his chubby fingers to indicate the respective room number.
Without a word, the weary travelers climbed the stairs and went to room number three. They closed and bolted the door behind them. Though it was only midday they found sleep came very easily, and it was not until many hours later that either stirred.
Vilmos awoke to find Xith staring at him.
“No dreams,” Vilmos whispered reverently, as he had each day upon awaking since joining Xith. Then he turned frank eyes to Xith. “Where are we?”
“We have reached the edge of the disputed lands.”
“The Borderlands,” exclaimed Vilmos. “Bandit Kings and Hunter Clan!”
“No, not the Borderlands of the North, but—”
Vilmos cut Xith short, “—Then the stories are true?”
“Vastly overstated.”
“Well, are the stories I heard true or not?… Tales of great heroes of the Borderlands wielding giant battle swords and fighting evil two-headed…” Vilmos didn’t finish the sentence.
“Those times are no more,” said Xith, a twinge of sadness or perhaps longing in his voice—Vilmos could not tell which. “We are nearing the disputed lands of the South. Here only brigands and a few traders remain. But we are only going to skirt the edge of this area. It is the fastest way to the sea.”
Vilmos had never seen the sea, and in his wildest aspirations he had never thought he would. “The sea, really, the sea?”
“We are at a last stopping place before we enter what was once the Alder’s Kingdom, but is now mostly ruins, except for Alderan.”
“Tell me more, please.” Vilmos was babbling excitedly.
“There isn’t all that much to tell. Besides, your version of the truth would vary greatly from mine. You will see soon enough. We must turn our attention to other things first though,” Xith said, a far off look in his eyes. “Are you there?” he called out in a scarcely audible voice.
“What do you mean?” asked Vilmos, responding not to the question but to the previous statement.
“Nothing. Rest,” said Xith, relief in his voice, “we have a long trip ahead of us in the morning.”
Vilmos sensed something was wrong, but whatever it was it seemed out of his grasp. He leaned back, touched head to pillow and closed his tired eyes once again. Images of the day’s adventure danced before his sealed lids—the most profound of which was the image of the burly looking innkeeper whose figure played ominously in his thoughts, with his fat hands raised, pointing at him, provoking him, warning him.
After what seemed hours of restless tossing and turning, Vilmos opened his eyes in frustration and sat up in bed. The last light of day still had not given way to the darkness of night and as Vilmos peered about the room, he was shocked to find himself alone. Xith was gone.
Vilmos was puzzled. Would Xith leave him? Maybe he went to relieve himself or something, Vilmos thought. He ran into the hall, but found only greetings of darkness.
“Xith,” called out Vilmos in a weak, half-whispered hiss, “Xi-ii-tttthhh.”
Frustrated he sat back on the bed, curled his feet up tight and wrapped his hands around his legs. He sat this way for hours, watching the sun slowly disappear behind the neighboring building. Periodically he looked toward the closed door.
The shadows in the room began to take on an eerie perspective, casting odd thoughts into his impressionable young mind. A half-burnt stub of a candle lay atop the stand beside the bed.
Vilmos reached out and grabbed it. He thrust it back into the pricket it had been removed from, with the apparent intent of replacing it though the new one had never been brought and the old one had never been discarded.
With a flick of absent thought, Vilmos sparked it to life.
The brilliant orange of the flame danced in front of his eyes as if it played out a song to him. Vilmos was captivated and motivated by it. Yet a heavy breath unknowingly extinguished its fragile flame, forcing him to re-ignite it. It had been quite accidental, but Vilmos was amused by it.
He took to blowing the candle out and then lighting it again and again with his mind. He laughed a soft, silent chuckle to himself as he did this.
He played with the candle for a time, flicking it off and on, the light of the fire reflecting off his face in the otherwise dark chamber.