The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1
Chapter 6

Emerden’s revelation and sudden departure cast the council chamber into uproar. Shouts of anger and shock from some quarters were countered with declamations from others which sounded almost defensive. And that’s when Tilarion realised. He stood in his place, considered and immediately dismissed the notion of using his gavel to restore order and instead drew his sword; a short and largely ceremonial blade which he rarely had cause to use. This he brought down on the table with such force it cracked the wood. The noise ceased instantly and all heads turned towards him.

“Emerden was not the only person in the room who knew that story,” he announced in a voice grim with anger, his jaw set. Several pairs of eyebrows were raised in wary confusion.

“There are several people in this room old enough to have been around the forest at that time, but only two were actually members of the council during my father’s reign. Ronvin and Chelm, you both knew of this travesty yet you sat there and pretended innocence. You were among the voices that persuaded my father nothing could be done. You are guilty of condemning the Jentsie race to another generation of slavery!”

His voice, which had begun with dread quiet, now echoed in the rafters and the tone if not the content could be heard in the corridor outside where Elves hurries past in dismay.

“You have sat on my council for twenty Turns and never mentioned it. Chelm I might have expected such behaviour from but YOU Ronvin – Keeper of Justice? BAH!”

This last shouted noise was Tilarion’s means of avoiding a descent into the less socially acceptable reaches of his vocabulary. Ronvin’s face was a picture of desolation, his guilt written clearly in his eyes. Chelm seemed to be waging an internal battle between shame and indignation, such was her affront that Tilarion felt her actions were in keeping with her character. Illion had never seen his father-in-law so angry. By his reckoning the King would have been about twelve when all this occurred and could understand Doradin wanting to protect his son from the shame of the terrible secret. He could also understand Tilarion’s feelings of betrayal; both that his father had allowed him to come to his throne without this valuable information and that Ronvin had never disclosed it to him. Of course, his father had not expected to die when he did and Ronvin, having given his word to Doradin, would feel unable to reveal the secret. There again, Tilarion was probably struggling with the idea that his father could have been complicit in such a cover up. When Tilarion spoke again it was with a sense of finality and deep regret.

“Ronvin, Keeper of Justice, I dismiss and expel you from this Council of the Great Summer Forest, from the Elven Council and from your judiciary responsibilities. Moreover you are placed under house arrest pending an investigation into your actions in the case we have had revealed to us today; the cover-up of Council proceedings, misconduct against the Jentsie people and neglect of your duty to ensure that justice is at all times served and maintained.

Chelm, I similarly dismiss and expel you from the Council of the Great Summer Forest. You will be placed under arrest here in the citadel pending investigation of your actions in this case; also on charges of covering up official council proceedings and misconduct against the Jentsie people and, frankly, being an affront to moral decency. I have never felt so disgusted and so betrayed as I do at this moment.”

Tilarion sank into his chair and ordered the guards at the door to escort Ronvin and Chelm from the room. Ronvin gathered about him all the grace and dignity he could muster and went without protest. Chelm had to be dragged away, kicking and screaming her outrage.

“If we’d sent an army, the forest would have been overrun with Meerans! We’d have lost the Gate and all our lives! The Jentsies chose their slavery – you heard him say it! They’re nothing to do with us; why should we sacrifice our lives to help them? We were RIGHT to do what we did!”

Her cries echoed down the corridor, shocking all the Elves she passed who naturally had no idea what was going on.

Those who remained in the council chamber exchanged uneasy glances, unsure what to say or do next. Such a thing had never happened before as far as any of them knew. So much remained unresolved, yet no-one wanted to speak first.

Eventually, Thalaenna steeled herself for what she felt must follow and broke the silence.

“Your Grace, I fear you must arrest me also,” she said quietly. Tilarion looked up, startled. He could not even recollect meeting Thalaenna before and was only vaguely aware of her role as the Norn who served the Carnival.

“What can you possibly mean Thalaenna?” he asked wearily. “You were never on my father’s council, nor have you previously served on mine. Your calling has been to serve the carnival as Norn for as long as I can remember. I don’t think I’ve even met you before this morning.”

“Actually you have seen me once before, your Grace, although we were never formally introduced. Once when you were a boy you found me crying in a hallway and offered me your handkerchief. You asked what ailed me and whether you could be of any assistance. I thanked you and asked if you knew where your father was. You kindly took my arm and led me to his study. I never saw you again because I left the city the next day for the Carnival and have not set foot in Theyos Raal from that day to this.”

“I see,” said the King, although he didn’t quite. “Was that the cause of your tears? That you were leaving? I’m terribly sorry but I don’t seem to remember the occasion.”

“No, your Grace, I don’t expect you do. You were only eleven or twelve at the time, I think. No, I was crying because I had just been told the most heartbreaking and disturbing story I had ever heard in three centuries. You see, it was me who found Lana wandering in the forest.”

This further revelation drew a fresh wave of astonished gasps from around the room. Tilarion frowned, still puzzling his way through the implications.

“You? You were the one who found Lana, who cared for her till she trusted you enough to tell you her tale and who brought her before my father? And you think I should arrest you for that?”

“For not fighting hard enough for her, your Grace. When your father told me nothing was to be done I was incandescent! I simply couldn’t believe my people – and all the people of the supposedly ‘Great’ Summer forest – could brush away everything they had been told, like dust swept from a room. And believe me you haven’t heard the half of it yet.

King Doradin told me he felt the same way, that he was as angry as me, but his hands were tied. He said he was but a servant of his crown, not a tyrant, and he must accede to the will of his people as demonstrated by their elected representatives on the council. He swore me to secrecy on my honour and in case that wasn’t enough threatened me with banishment if I told a soul. I must say I didn’t deport myself with much grace that afternoon. I screamed at him that if he thought it honourable to hide that young woman away in the Carnival, to make her choke down her past and abandon her people, then exile sounded like a very good idea as I didn’t care to live any longer with people who could be so cruel. I chose to leave with Lana and go to the Carnival, to help Emerden’s father care for her.

So you see, your Grace, I helped to hide the truth, to keep the secret. It was me who changed her appearance with enchantments. She trusted me and I convinced her that nothing could be done. That we couldn’t help.”

Great tears rolled unchecked down Thalaenna’s cheeks and fell onto her lap. Her hands were tightly clenched, fingers intertwined, so that her knuckles appeared white. Her shoulders trembled as guilt and remorse which had been bottled up for years was released. Tilarion stood and moved from his own chair to sit in Emerden’s empty one beside her. He placed his hands over her own and spoke to her softly but firmly.

“The guilt is not yours Thalaenna. You were on Lana’s side; you fought for her as hard as you knew how. You cared for her when they would not. You tried. You loved her, didn’t you?”

Thalaenna nodded miserably. “She became my dearest friend. I miss her to this day.”

“What happened to her? Can you tell us her story?”

Thalaenna drew a deep breath then sighed, shaking her head. “Not unless Emerden is here. I’m not sure how much Aedon told him before he died, but not all of it I’m sure and it wouldn’t be right for you all to know his mother’s story and him not to. The telling will cause him much pain though, and I wish with all my heart he could be spared it, but there is no choice now. Lana deserves for her story to be known, finally.”

Demet rose from his seat. “I’ll replace him, Thalaenna.”

She looked up at him. “Will you let him know... about me, I mean. We never told him, Aedon and I.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him what he needs to know.”

Demet strode purposefully from the room and it was some time before he returned. In the interim, Tilarion suggested they take a break to stretch their legs. It had been a long and difficult morning. He had refreshments brought to an anteroom with a balcony so they could take the air, not that the warm humidity brought much relief from the stifling room. Few people had much of an appetite after the emotional strain of the morning though, and the food was only picked at. Lyneera arrived during this break and confirmed what Tilarion suspected. The sea to the east was impassable by boat. North of the Misted Rocks a wild and raging ocean, known as the Sea of Ever Storms by the people of the Lomoohr mountains, tore at the coast night and day, making shipwreck almost a certainty.

Some time later, after the council had reconvened around the table and were discussing matters in small groups, Demet returned with Emerden. Thalaenna had been sitting on her own, pensively watching the door, and she stood as they entered and went to Emerden.

“I’m so sorry Em,” she said. “I wish there was more I could have done. And I should have told you sooner.”

“It’s alright Thalaenna,” he replied, hugging her tightly. “I’m sure you did everything you could. And I’m sure my father asked you not to reveal anything more than he told me himself.”

Thalaenna nodded. “King Tilarion has asked me to tell your mother’s story, so that the council can know the full extent of the situation. I didn’t think they should have information about your mother that you weren’t privy to yourself. This won’t be easy to hear though, Em, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay. She went through a lot.”

Emerden smiled ruefully. “I’m a big boy now Thalaenna. I’m sure I can cope with hearing it. To be honest, I can barely remember her. She died when I was very small. I would like to know more of her life. Please, tell us.”

Once everyone was seated and looking intently at Thalaenna, keen to hear yet a little nervous of what else might come to light, she began.

“Lana and I shared a cabin when we first moved to the Carnival, before she married Emerden’s father and moved into what is now Em’s vardo. She was very troubled at first; often silent for days yet sometimes she talked as if she couldn’t stop. She told me about her family, her childhood, life in the Chasm and her escape and journey south.

Lana’s parents were kind and loving, she said. She had a brother and two sisters, all older that she was. Her father and, as he grew older, her brother farmed the riverbank from dawn until dusk every day. The crops went on for miles she said, to feed both the Raquin and Jentsie populations. Her mother and sisters were taken up the tree roots every morning, either to empty the fishing nets in the river and gut the catch, or to climb Centre’s Tree and harvest the unimaginable bounty of fruits growing there. Some of the other women were given laundry duty and yet others cooked or served the Raquin women as their personal maids. Some few of the men also acted as servants to the Raquin men; those in the so-called nobility.

It seems that after they settled in the Chasm and started making trips to Lytos Bor, the Raquin leaders became enamoured of the social class system they heard of from travelling Meeran merchants. The favourites of Quaylon (who had been the Haraquin chief’s son) and his mate were allowed to lead lives of idle extravagance, while those who were less fortunate were given guard duty, acting as overseers of the Jentsie workforce and living in lower, less well appointed caves. This system became ingrained as the years passed, and during Lana’s childhood the Raquin leader, Quintel, and his mate, Quaylise, were treated almost as Royalty with their court toadying around them and jockeying for favour and position. The guard class had also established a hierarchy and they were universally cruel to their Jentsie underlings.

When she was young, Lana stayed in the dormitory cave with her Grandmother, who was too old and frail to work. The days were long and the work tiring. The ‘masters’, as she called them, were unfair and sometimes sadistic, doling out punishments for infractions real and imagined. Once her mother dropped her basket and bruised the fruit. The overseer beat her till she could barely walk down the root path the Chasm floor. Meals could be docked, the guards in the fields walked about with whips ready to flog anyone who wasn’t working hard enough. One day a woman said she couldn’t go to work as her child was sick. The guard picked up the toddler by one leg and threw her in the river, then pushed the screaming woman into her work detail.”

At this there was a horrified gasp from everyone in the room. Illion repeated a question he had asked Vineder earlier on.

“Why would they keep bringing children into such a world?”

“Your Highness, I know it is hard to grasp, but to them that was life. It had been for generations. And however hard it was, however tiring the work, however cruel the masters, life was precious.

In the evenings they would gather round their fires, eat the meagre portions of food they were allowed and tell stories. They would sing songs that were passed down through the generations. They would bathe in the shallow pools along the river edge where the currents were weak. And young people would fall in love and do what young people in love have wanted to do since time immemorial.”

Garron Moor coughed uncomfortably and muttered something about self-control and morals. Danin, the mayor of Ebor, smirked at his discomfort. Thalaenna looked at both disapprovingly.

“People replace comfort where they can. They snatch joy from the worst of situations. Perhaps your wife and children don’t bring you any comfort or joy Captain Moor; if not you have my sympathies, but the Jentsies treasured their families. You might also be unaware that the Jentsies never had a concept of formalised marriage, so your comment is truly irrelevant. Once they chose each other, the young couple was acknowledged as being together and that was that. I will admit to there being a darker side to it all though. If a Jentsie girl was noticed to be mature enough to bear children, but had not chosen a mate or become pregnant, after a season or two the Raquin would choose a partner for her from the unattached young men. Their consummation would be.... without privacy.... until the girl was pregnant.”

“They watched them? That is monstrous!” Again the reaction was from Garron Moor, who stood by the window, his face a picture of outraged disgust.

Thalaenna shrugged. “Yes. But to the Raquin I suppose it seemed practical. They had to ensure the continuation of their workforce and they really didn’t care whether their slaves were in love, as long as they bore children to raise into new slaves. What was even more monstrous was what happened to them if they tried to refuse, or if the young man was unable to... that is to say if he was rendered shy by the audience.

Lana told me that her sister found herself in this unenviable situation. Jentsies are petite and due to their meagre diet the girls often matured slower, but when she had passed her seventeenth Turn and not born a child, the Raquin guards separated her from her work detail and paired her off with a young man of about the same age. Lana said he was a nice boy, kind and gentle, and he was quite happy to be with Jenna. But he was quite unable to prove it to her, if you understand my meaning. They had been taken to a separate cave under guard and when it became obvious he was unmanned, the guard took hold of Jenna by the hair and raped her in front of him. She screamed in fear and pain but her young man did nothing, knowing that if he tried to defend her, the guard would likely kill him and choose a new partner for Jenna. After work the next day they were taken to the same cave, when the scenario was repeated. Jenna tried to coax him to close his eyes and pretend they were alone, but it was no use. Every night she begged him to love her and every night, to his growing shame and guilt, he was unable to comply. Eventually, Jenna started being sick every morning and the Raquin left them alone, knowing that either her man had managed to perform when they were alone together or she was carrying a half-Raquin baby.

She told Lana what had happened and confided her fears to her sister, which were not without foundation. Jentsies as I said are small and slight, like Pixies, while Raquin are burly and tall. Also they are born with wings. Raquin women must be hardy, I suppose, but poor Jenna was not. Months later Lana watched her sister bleed to death from the damage, but before she died she had to watch the creature she had birthed strangled before her eyes. The Raquin wouldn’t tolerate a slave that was half their blood, but they wouldn’t accept as their own a half Jentsie baby. They called the child impure and tossed his body into the river. Lana wept for her sister, hated the guard and despised Jenna’s young man.

Lana’s other sister had been luckier. By the time Lana was in her mid-teens, Sula had two beautiful babies with a man she loved. Lana had no lover and was terrified of meeting the same fate as her beloved Jenna. She watched the Raquin carefully, noting their patterns, plotting her escape. Lana had never been a strong swimmer, so she had declined to make the attempt when she had been younger, but she could climb.

One night she stole away along the Chasm floor to a spot far enough from the tree roots and the Raquin living quarters that she would be neither heard nor seen. She scaled the cliff and headed south, following the river. As dawn approached she hid in a clump of bushes, lying perfectly still wrapped up in her sleeping blanket. For days she travelled in this way, walking all night and hiding all day. She was lucky and none of the groups of Raquin on their morning flights spotted her.

By the time she reached the foothills of the Lomoohr Mountains she was exhausted and half-starved. There are mining villages in those hills, but they turned away the ragged girl with dirty skin and filthy clothes, some of them with the toe of their boots. The only exception was one poor widow who gave her refuge in her outhouse for a few weeks, feeding her and allowing her to regain her strength but always begging her to stay well hidden so her sons and neighbours wouldn’t replace out.

After she left that place, she was on her own. She skirted Lake Lomoohr and followed the river south, passing the hills under Even’s Doom and crossing the river Mist at the bridge east of Maybor. She made it into the forest without being seen by anyone; Elf, Equiseen or Pixie. I found her there, cowering behind a bush. She had walked the whole length of the realm and it had taken her months, sleeping in the open and eating whatever she could replace.”

“And we have heard what happened next,” observed Tilarion. “A harrowing tale indeed Thalaenna. How does it end? Was she happy?” He glanced toward Emerden, who was sitting with head bowed, overcome by a mixture of pity for his aunt and pride in his mother’s courage and tenacity.

“She was, after a fashion. Emerden’s father, Aedon, was a wonderful man. He visited her every day, sometimes just sitting in silence with her for hours, sometimes taking her for walks round the carnival. I made tonics to strengthen her and she ate all the food Demet’s father could cook! She grew to like and trust Aedon, then by and by she came to love him. I think he had adored her from the first moment he saw her. Of course she wasn’t bothered by the notion of marriage, but Aedon wanted everything done properly, so I married them before the Fall’s Gate and she moved from our cabin into the vardo.

Within a year Emerden was born. It was an easy birth and she seemed to recover quickly, but then she started to sort of sink. She was listless and sad, always talking about the past. She just worshipped the baby though, would hardly put him down. Gradually she began to be happier again and after a couple of years there was another baby on the way.”

At this remark Thalaenna stopped and turned to Emerden, as if to gauge what he had been told about that.

“It’s alright, I know about my sister, Thalaenna,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “My mother died giving birth to her then the baby died too.”

“What a tragic end to your tale, Thalaenna,” said Tilarion.

“Yes, your Grace, except that’s not really what happened.

“What?” asked Emerden, looking at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Em. Your father wanted to protect you and he could hardly bear to talk of it himself, even years later. But the baby was born safely. She was a beauty. She was named Jenna, after her aunt, but I’m not sure that wasn’t a mistake, for Lana to be saying that name all the time. Her mood turned again, but quicker and worse than before. She became paranoid, accusing Aedon of spying for Doradin, saying they were planning to send her back to the Chasm, screaming that they wouldn’t go, that her children would never be slaves. Aedon managed to calm her and give her a sleeping tonic, then he left them sleeping, only for the few minutes it took to bring Emerden to my cabin because he was so distressed by it all. When he got back to the vardo they were both gone.

She must have spit the tonic out when he wasn’t looking and waited for him to leave, feigning sleep. He searched the forest for hours and eventually he found them.”

Thalaenna paused to look at Emerden and cover his hands with hers. “Em, she had smothered the baby and bound it to her chest, then went out into the forest and hanged herself. Either she was convinced that Aedon and Doradin were planning to send her back to the Chasm with her children and couldn’t bear it, or she couldn’t live with the idea that she’d abandoned her people to their fate. I’m so sorry Em.”

Thalaenna’s tears dropped onto both their hands. Emerden sat in stunned silence. A long hidden memory echoed in the back of his mind.

“I remember that day, I think,” he said slowly. “All the noise, shouting and screaming, Jenna crying, and being bundled out of the vardo. She wouldn’t give him the baby, not even when she seemed calmer. She begged him not to take Jenna from her. I remember father leaving me, the desperate look on his face. Then later he came back, tears streaming down his face and he just held me for the longest time. I don’t remember him ever crying except for that one time. I would have been about three, I think.”

“He buried his grief, Em, pushed it far away. Focussed on you and the Carnival. That was his whole life; raising you, teaching you the stories, training you to carry on after him.”

Tilarion, somewhat uncomfortable with all the raw emotion in the room, decided they had probably all had enough for one day. He dismissed the meeting, to be reconvened the following morning. Vineder, Demet and Thalaenna walked with Emerden back to the Carnival.

“Would you like to come for a drink, Em?” asked Demet. “Maybe a plate of stew?”

“No thanks, I’m not really hungry.”

“Shall I replace Nula for you? Is she at the cottage?” asked Thalaenna.

“No, don’t send for her Thalaenna. I don’t think I can face retelling the whole day. I’d just like to be on my own for a while.”

“Okay, Em. Try to get some sleep. We’ll see you in the morning.”

He watched them walk off towards the cookhouse, then wearily climbed the stairs to his vardo.

The early light filtered through the window shutters into the semi-submerged house and began to illuminate the kitchen. The raven woke and ruffled his feathers, deciding whether or not to screech loudly and waken his mistress. He decided that regardless of the entertainment likely to result from such an action, the course of prudence was to leave quietly in search of worms. The sudden draft caused by his winged departure woke Raya anyway however and she yawned and stretched. She had fallen asleep amid her work in the early hours of the morning, books and papers scattered over the table. Her crucible stood next to her elbow, the ashes of several spells in dishes all around it. Raya shook her arm to restore the circulation and wiped dry spittle from the corners of her mouth with the back of her other hand.

“Fell asleep,” she murmured to herself, looking about her as if for a reminder of what she had been doing. She scanned the notes she had been making then tidied the table ready to begin again. Going through to the wash stand in her bedroom, she poured water from the pitcher into the bowl and washed her hands and face, drying them on the small towel that hung there. She looked at her slightly blurry reflection in the polished plate mirror on the back of the stand, brushed her hair and tied it back out of the way.

“Alright, ready for another day’s work,” she declared, walking back into the kitchen. She set fresh paper, quill and ink on the table and turned to the large stone bowl with a sense of anticipation. Sprinkling a pinch of powder onto the water and speaking the necessary incantation, she looked deep into the dark liquid, waiting to see what would be revealed to her that day.

As the water shimmered and darkness gave way to an illuminated scene, Raya gasped in horror. She saw a battle, arrows flying and swords dripping blood, amid fire and smoke and the screams of the wounded and dying. She saw black wings swooping from the sky, children running for cover as their mothers tried to protect them. One brave man leapt in front of a sword intended for another, saving the man’s life as he surrendered his own. Raya wept and as her tears fell into the bowl and disrupted the clarity of the image; her concentration faltered and the vision left her. She cried for some time, for she had recognised some of the faces in the battle. She had been watching them closely for some time now.

The morning dawned bright and warm in the summer forest, as mornings usually did. In the unending semi-darkness under the trees, a sombre crowd was forming. They were some distance from the Elven citadel and the Pixie houses underneath, farther even than the market clearing where Pixies, Equiseen and Manguin gathered weekly to trade food and crafted items. Under Caeya and Neryn’s home tree, all three hundred and forty two Tree Sprites from all over the forest had gathered to return the lost babies to their tree. Four were Neryn and Caeya’s nest mates and nineteen others shared their arboreal parentage, considering themselves older siblings of the little ones who lay wrapped in muslin in their basket at the foot of the tree. The surviving baby was cradled in Nula’s arm as she sat quietly to one side, watching. The babies’ oldest sibling, who was the last of his own hatching and who, having passed nearly five centuries, was showing signs of frailty and decline, spoke words common to all such events; words of grief, words of sadness, words of comfort. A hollow had been carefully dug at the base of the tree and Neryn and Caeya stepped forward to place the babies among the roots, removing the muslin shrouds and covering the bodies with leaves. As they watched, small roots crept over the babies, embracing them, ready to absorb their essences back into the tree so that their lives could continue eternally in the ancient branches above. As Caeya replaced the soil into the hollow a haunting melody echoed among the trees. Half a hundred Elves drifted into the clearing between the trunks, singing a song of aching loss, yet tinged with hope. Their gossamer robes and mournful song gave their presence an ethereal, almost ghostly quality. Their harmonies were hauntingly beautiful, piercing the hearts of those privileged to listen.

The Sprites passed an hour in uncharacteristic silence and melancholy, some embracing each other, some leaning against nearby tree trunks in unfathomable kinship, others just sitting on the ground. Nula thought it was one of the most touching things she had ever seen. The Elves finished by singing a song of blessing for the surviving baby and one by one each of the Sprites passed her to lay a finger on the baby’s cheek in loving acceptance and benediction. As the song ended the Elves seemed to melt away again into the trees and gradually so too did the Sprites, climbing the tall trunks with their natural speed and agility until only Neryn and Caeya remained beside Nula. Neryn took the baby for a cuddle and walked around between the tree trunks, singing softly to her brother. Caeya turned to Nula.

“We’re going to call the baby Oerayn,” she said softly to break the silence.

“That’s the Elvish word for hope, isn’t it?” replied Nula. “How lovely.”

Caeya nodded and wondered how to begin what she really wanted to say. She and Neryn had followed the others back to the Carnival the previous evening. They had stayed near Emerden’s vardo, concerned that he seemed so quiet and withdrawn. Their innocent natures had been shocked and upset by the revelations of the day, such cruelty and heartlessness being utterly beyond their comprehension, and they were worried for their friend.

They were shaken by what they heard. The grief of a grown man is a torturous thing to behold. There was a loud crash as he hurled something to the floor, smashing it, then a thud and a broken, groaning cry as he himself fell to his knees, grieving both of his parents and his sister anew. He wept for his mother’s suffering, for the madness that had pushed her into taking her own life and that of her tiny daughter. He roared in anger at the injustices of her life and those of her people; his people as well, and he accepted this fully for the first time.

He sobbed brokenly for the father he had adored, who had kept so much from him all his life. He wondered if he would have met the same fate as his sister, had his father not taken him away when he did but simply gone to fetch Thalaenna. His grief was unrestrained, believing no-one to be in earshot and needing to unburden himself of all the mountainous anger and loss he felt. He immersed himself in the catharsis of release until his voice was hoarse and he was exhausted. Only when all was quiet had Caeya climbed up to the window to peep in and check that he was sleeping peacefully. This confirmed, the two of them had slipped back into the forest.

Caeya believed that Emerden needed Nula in the same way that she relied on Neryn, especially in such a time of sadness. She also knew that it would be hard for him to tell her everything she needed to know so that she could understand and help him. Caeya also knew that Nula, being the sort of person she was, would have her own tears to cry and that she would have to process her own feelings before she could focus properly on comforting Emerden. Caeya spent a lot of time making mischief and having fun, but she had also had over a century to observe people and she was very wise. She had decided, with Neryn’s encouragement, to tell Nula the whole of it, so that she could be ready to comfort Emerden by the time the council finished making their plans that evening.

“Nula, I need to tell you something,” she said. “You need to know this, but it is a sorry tale and I am afraid it will cause you much sorrow.”

Nula had never heard her speak so formally and braced herself for whatever was to follow. Caeya availed her of everything that had transpired the previous day. It did not occur to her that the content of a council meeting was privileged information to which Nula had no right. She only thought of Emerden and how her friend desperately needed his beloved but could not bring himself to turn to her. When she finished, Nula’s face was contorted in shock and vicarious pain, and wet with tears.

“I’ll leave you now,” said Caeya. “I expect you want to be alone for a while.” Nula nodded. “Don’t worry about Oerayn,” continued Caeya. “We’ll care for him till tomorrow so you can help Em. He’ll be safe with us. We’ll be taking him back to the forest soon anyway, after all. It’s where he belongs.”

The two sprites walked away with their baby brother as the pain in Nula’s heart doubled, not only for Emerden now but also for herself. It had not occurred to her that she would have to give the baby up so soon, but they were right; he was not her child, he belonged to the forest and she would have to give him back to it. Her tears spilled afresh.

And so it was that Nula, having at last made peace with all she had heard, met Emerden under the trees that afternoon as he descended from the citadel.

“Hey, Nu,” he said fondly as she hugged him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested, “Stay at my cottage tonight?” She thought it would be good for him to have some physical separation from events.

“Thanks, but maybe I should just go home. It’s been a trying day.”

She could see that he was tired and also afraid of the necessity of a long and difficult talk if he accepted her invitation. There was something in his eyes that seemed to yearn for her touch but at the same time was pushing her away. She reached up and gently placed her hand on his bearded cheek.

“It’s alright, Em; I know,” she whispered.

His forehead creased in confusion. “How..?” he began, but paused before finishing the sentence.

“Caeya,” smiled Nula and Emerden’s frown cleared as he returned her smile in understanding, but it was a sad sort of smile, she noticed.

“Come on,” she encouraged. “I’ll make fish stew and we can eat out by the lake and watch the stars. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to.”

“You know what? That actually sounds perfect,” said Emerden, taking her hand.

Standing on the balcony above them, Thalaenna watched the lovers wend their way towards Lake Merriem and Nula’s cottage. Her heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time.

While Nula was preparing supper Emerden said hardly a word, preferring instead to envelope himself in the warmth of homey domesticity that pervaded Nula’s cottage. He sat near the fire and watched her chop, stir and grate ingredients, seasoning the stew to perfection with just the right mix of herbs. As the delicious aroma filled the small house and Nula was occupied with setting bowls, spoons and a plate of bread on a tray, Emerden stretched and yawned, feeling the fire’s warmth seeping into him and beginning to relax. Nula ladled generous portions of stew into the bowls and Emerden carried the tray outside. They sat by the lake and watched the sun disappear behind the horizon in the direction of the wailing cliffs. As the stars began to show themselves against the velvety blue, Emerden began to speak.

“He only told me just before he died, you know. About my mother, I mean. He always said when I asked him that she died when my sister was born and the baby was too sickly to live. He never mentioned about her being a Jentsie or any of that side of it till he was on his death bed. Once he was gone I felt so angry – that he’d lied, that I hadn’t known who my mother really was, that they’d both been taken from me. And then, of course, for what she’d been through and how Doradin let her down. I had so many questions and there were no answers. I’m half Jentsie and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Em, a lot of people have a little Jentsie in them if you go back far enough. Centuries ago they used to settle here in the villages, before there even was a Carnival. What’s so bad about it?”

“I don’t know. It’ll sound horrible to say it. Everyone either pities them or scorns them. You should have heard what they said in the council yesterday. The Equiseen revile them for not fighting harder, for accepting their fate. Everyone thinks of them as the slave race, they’ve forgotten that they used to be the adventuresome race, the travelling race, the merry race.

There are so many stories about Centre’s Tree and its people, but no-one tells them anymore. No-one wants to hear them. No-one wants to think about them. And I’m one of them, and yet I’m not. I’ll never truly understand what they’ve endured and to be honest I don’t want to. I probably have family in the Chasm who struggle and suffer every day and I don’t want to know what they’re enduring because what if I can’t do anything about it? And it drives me mad.”

He looked at Nula, almost fearing what he would see in her eyes, as if she would judge him for his feelings, but her face only held understanding and love.

“You don’t know that it will never change, Em. What did Tilarion say? What plans were made today?”

“It took all day to hammer out the details and we faced the same objections as when my mother first arrived, but we eventually managed to make a plan. There are to be two branches to this endeavour. The first will be a quest. We have to replace out what’s causing the problem with the trees, which seems to be worse than we first thought.”

“Oh, how so?” asked Nula.

“Some of the Sprites and Pixies went into the canopy to look at the extent of the problem. There seems to be a wide stretch of affected trees heading off to the northeast; they’re all dying from the top down. It runs like a road through the forest, cutting through Theyos Raal and the western edge of the market clearing. It’s miles long Nu, hundreds of trees are affected. If the damage continues down to the roots it will affect the homes of some of the Elves. Also two other Sprite trees have been affected. Neither has nested in over fifty Turns and now there’s no way to know if they ever will again. Thalaenna has tried her best using vision magic to discern the cause, but she’s not a seeress. Some of the Norns in the city have also been working on the problem since yesterday, but to no avail as yet. The other end of the vision is missing, as best as I can understand what they said, like it’s not even in the realm at all. Whatever it is, it’s both powerful and elusive. Their recommendation is that we seek out Raya.”

“The Seeress of Lomoohr? Wasn’t she exiled by the Roon for overstepping the line with her magic? Isn’t she dangerous?”

“Not according to Lyneera. She visits Raya when she travels north, taking her provisions in exchange for potions and knowledge.”

“What spells does she know that the Norns here don’t? Aren’t they supposed to be the best?”

“Raya’s really powerful, Nu. I’m talking Roon magic. She can do things the Norns here would never dream of. It took the combined efforts of the Immortal Roon to build the web of enchantment that keeps her on that island. But Lyneera doesn’t ask for those spells to bring them here, she usually trades them for gold and jewels in the markets at Lytos Bor.”

“I see. So they’ll go to see Raya and she’ll tell them what’s causing the problem and how to fix it?” asked Nula.

“That’s the hope. And if she can’t, perhaps she can advise us on what to do next.”

“You said the plan had two branches. Is the other to do with Vineder?”

“Yes. That was the one that raised all the debate. We need to send a force north by sea, both to help Vineder’s people and to help the Jentsies. It will be a fighting force, almost a small army really.”

“They agreed to that? But won’t it leave the forest terribly exposed? The Meerans might attack again.”

“Nula, no one’s heard anything from the Meerans in twenty Turns, except for the occasional ‘diplomatic envoy’ coming to talk to Tilarion.”

“You mean spy,” corrected Nula.

“Well, that’s as may be. Still, there’s no evidence they’d even know we had gone. But we agreed to do our best to cover the absence. The Equiseen will still be effectively patrolling the Near Plains daily when they hunt, so any approaching force would be spotted when it was still a long way off. If they were to send any spies, we’d make a good show of the forest being as busy as ever. The Equiseen guard are going to train both those village men who are going and those who aren’t though, just in case, and advance preparation will be made in case there needed to be an evacuation. If there’s a battle, the forest will be ready.”

“Oh Em, a battle?” Nula’s eyes were wide. “I was only five the last time we fought the Meerans, but I remember. My father fought, all the men did, and my sisters and I were evacuated to the forest. My mother worked with the other healers and the Norns to tend the wounded. I was so scared I would never see either of my parents again. Doradin’s Peace was hard won and it’s lasted twenty Turns. Might it really crumble now?”

“I doubt it, Nu. These are all just precautions. With a bit of luck they’ll never even know we’ve gone.”

“So who’s going? How will Tilarion choose who goes where?”

“By skill set, mostly. Lyneera’s daughter Reem will navigate for the quest and act as guide. She’s travelled extensively with her mother, even as far as Lytos Bor. She’s also met Raya and will introduce us. Then there’s a Norn in Theyos Raal who’s just finished her apprenticeship and wants some practical experience. Her name is Kerise and I’m told she’s very talented. Jonor, Hanble, Fron and Soorah are going to come along as well. Soorah’s fire magic might come in handy and the others are brave, capable and agile. I don’t know what fixing this problem is going to involve but I want all angles covered.”

“You keep saying ‘I’. Are you going Em?”

“I have to Nula. I will lead the quest and Prince Illion will lead the rescue party.”

Nula made a sudden decision then that even surprised herself.

“I’m going with you then,” she announced, sounding a lot surer than she felt. The words felt right though, so she repeated the assertion.

“You’re not going off on another adventure and leaving me behind. I’m going with you this time.”

Emerden smiled at her choice of words but there was concern in his eyes.

“It might be dangerous, Nula. I can’t just let you come like it’s a day out by the river. ‘Adventure’ sounds like a fine thing, but mostly it means uncertainty and unavoidable risk. Sorry.”

“I wasn’t asking permission. Like it or not, I’m coming. I have skills too, you know. I can dress wounds, make poultices for infection, I can reduce a dislocated shoulder or set a bone and I’m a dab hand with a needle and thread. My mother taught me everything she knows.”

I doubt we’ll be doing much dressmaking,” remarked Emerden.

“I sew people, silly,” Nula corrected him. “I also caught the fish we just ate and I can shoot a rabbit from fifty paces – my father taught me to use a bow and arrows on his farm – I can skin it, clean it and cook it. None of the people you’ve listed so far can cook, so unless you plan to eat grass on your little trip I suggest you enlist my services.”

Nula sat back, folding her arms across her small bosom and looking pointedly at him. Emerden had to admit she made a good point. Several of them in fact, but he didn’t want to capitulate too easily.

“It won’t be comfortable you know. We’ll be carrying heavy packs, sleeping on the ground, walking all day. And what about your work?”

Nula had already considered that. “Noor can cope perfectly well without me. There are only a dozen or so ongoing pregnancies in the forest at the moment and most of those are Equiseen – they always deliver easily. The due dates are fairly spread out too. She shouldn’t have any problems. As for me, don’t worry, I can take whatever you dish out.”

“I’ve noticed,” observed Emerden wryly. “Alright, you’re in, but don’t start complaining if it rains at night and you wake up cold and damp.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll have you to keep me warm.” She winked saucily at him and stood to take the dishes inside. Once they had tidied up they sat beside the fire and Nula poured them each a measure of Demet’s apple brandy. For a few minutes they just listened to the fire crackle and enjoyed the warmth of the potent amber liquor.

“Who’s going on the rescue mission, Em?” asked Nula, curious to know every detail of the mission of which she was now to be a part.

“Illion will lead it, as I said. Garron Moor will command the Equiseen arm of the force, taking a squad of twenty from each village. That leaves the remainder evenly spread out so no one village feels the loss more.”

“That’s a hundred and twenty Equiseen, calculated Nula. “Who else?”

“Illion will pick the sixty best Elven bowmen and four of the Norn will go too. Vineder will go with them, of course, and Jaquor, Beyon, Tisha and Eliish have volunteered.”

“So, including those of us going on the quest, that’s one hundred and ninety seven people gone from the forest,” concluded Nula, adding up the numbers in her head. The carnival will be decimated. Who will be left?”

“Demet and Louenne, their boys and Louenne’s mother, Thalaenna, Doorsh and Mirren, the band, Bod, Soorah and Eliish’s mother Magra and the Sprites,” said Emerden, counting them off on his fingers. “Timony, Alishore, Jofus and Esher, Lucan, Mardeny and little Mora,” he added, referring to the two families who helped Demet and Louenne run the cookhouse and its farm.

“I take it they won’t be doing shows then,” surmised Nula. “If they do the audience can expect to eat, shop and listen to music while Bod and the Sprites turn cartwheels around them.”

Emerden had to laugh at the comical mental picture this created, then he acknowledged that Nula was right.

“For a few weeks they’ll just run the farm, make repairs around the clearing, enjoy a little leisure time. In fact, Timony’s boys might want to join the village lads in training. Timony moved to the Carnival with his parents when he was twelve and the boys have family in Ebor still.”

“Oh, Em, no. They’re so young; they couldn’t fight.”

“They’re in their late teens and quite headstrong. I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Timony will support them too. He’d go himself but he hurt his leg badly some years ago in a trapeze accident. That’s why he cooks now.”

“Alishore is Beyon’s sister isn’t she?” asked Nula.

“Yes, she grew up in the Carnival. She’ll hate it that Beyon and Tisha are going, but there will be sacrifices everywhere.”

“You haven’t mentioned the villages though. I take it there are men going from there too?”

“Oh yes, Tilarion silenced all the objections and got them to agree that a squad of the most able men will go from each village, in return for the Equiseen training the remaining men and older boys. Also, at the first sign of any hostile activity from the Meerans the villages will be totally evacuated into the forest.”

Nula shuddered at this idea, remembering her own childhood, and Emerden reached across and took her hand.

“It will be alright Nula. Remember this is all just a precaution, a last resort. It’ll probably never happen. It’s just better to be....”

“Safe than sorry,” Nula finished for him. “Any more clichés in there Em? Do you want to pour them all in my lap in one go?”

Emerden laughed and kissed her finger tips. “It’s late, love. Time for bed?”

Nula yawned as if she needed to be reminded of the hour in order to feel sleepy.

“There’s just one more thing you need to explain before I can sleep. Where do we acquire those ships you mentioned? No one here has anything bigger than a fishing boat.”

“We get the ships in Lytos Meer,” said Emerden, knowing what reaction he could expect from this statement before he even opened his mouth.

“Are you crazy?!” exclaimed Nula. “What are you going to do, walk nearly three hundred forest folk down to the harbour and ask to buy passage?”

“Not quite, love,” grinned Emerden, amused by her stricken expression. “We thought we’d try something a little less suicidal. Jaquor, Eliish, Beyon and Tisha will go into Lytos Meer posing as travellers from Meer-Armen and try to replace some Myrial sailors with an eye for an easy profit and a casual disregard for the spirit of the law.”

“Smugglers, you mean,” retorted Nula.

“That’s such an ugly word. Anyway, they tend to be less bothered about racial differences and we need someone with the ability to navigate the Sucking Sea at the mouth of the Daraeyi bay. While they replace the ships, the rest of the army will wait well outside the city under the Lomoohr Mountains’ western escarpment.”

“You’re not going to sail to Lytos Bor and cross the desert?”

“No, for two reasons. One, it would take too long to walk that far and we couldn’t carry the provisions necessary. The baggage train that gets them as far as Lytos Meer will turn back once they’re on board ship. Two, we don’t know where the oases are, so we’d have no source of fresh water. Frankly, it would be suicide. Also, we plan to sail those ships right up the Chasm, first to take the Raquin by surprise and second so that we can transport Vineder’s people once we replace them. They’ll be in no shape for a long walk.”

Nula mulled over all this information, setting in her mind everything Emerden had told her. Once she had done this, she took Emerden’s hand and walked towards her bedroom.

“You can sleep now then?” he asked slyly.

“Well, perhaps not quite yet,” she smiled in return.