The Seedbearing Prince: Part I Page 9

  “Who are the strangers, brother?” Tela asked, bouncing on her toes.

  “What strangers? Dayn, you’re being ridiculous!” Hanalene exclaimed. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously, but he held his ground. At a look from Dayn, Tela disappeared into his room before he even uttered the words, returning with the new silverpine staff. A weapon ill-suited for indoors, but better than his bare hands.

  At sight of the grain, Hanalene searched his face, suddenly hesitant. She balked at the Sweetwater tournaments, but acknowledged the boys knew when a staff proved necessary. More pounding at the door made them jump.

  “Please,” Dayn pleaded. “I'll explain everything, but please just go out to the garden and be ready to run if I shout. I don't think that’s Grahm.”

  Hanalene let Tela lead her away through the kitchen. Dayn took a deep breath and turned to face the door, wishing it were twice as thick and made of stone. Gripping his staff, Dayn flung it open, and stopped short. An odd little man stepped back in surprise, gawking so anxiously at sight of the staff that Dayn expected him to turn and run.

  “Oh...oh, my. I can assure you there’s no need for that,” the man said carefully. He stood slight of build with fair skin, a round, clean-shaven face and meticulously cut sandy hair. His crisp manner of speaking cried offworlder to Dayn’s ears. “I would be most unable to defend myself. I’m a Preceptor from the Ring, and my name is Lurec. We’ve come to investigate the trouble upon your world.”

  “The Ring?” Dayn lowered his staff hesitantly. Preceptors were men of great learning, spending their lives in studious solitude upon the Ring, the ancient fortress that floated between the worlds.

  “Yes, we took the road from Misthaven this morning.” The man certainly fit how Dayn imagined a Preceptor would appear. His clothes were a simple, neatly-cut affair of the palest gray. This Lurec looked as though he never spent a day outside. His boots, black beneath a thick layer of red dust from the road, were not broken in at all.

  “Why have you come all the way out here?” Dayn could not help his suspicions, Preceptor or not. The last offworlder he met, the Ista Cham trader, had nearly tricked him. Grahm was another offworlder, but he was different. Well, Dayn hoped he was different. “How do I know you really come from the Ring?”

  “I assure you, Wia Wells is exactly where I’m needed. All will be explained.” The man did not seem surprised by Dayn's mistrust. “May I come in?”

  A strong grip unexpectedly yanked Dayn backwards, and he stumbled away from the door. “I should thump you silly with that great stick!” Hanalene hissed. With an exasperated twitch of her hair she beckoned to the offworlder. Tela peeked out from behind her skirts.

  “Forgive my son's manners, Ringman. Our wits are in short supply after what’s happened. Dayn―put that away!” At Hanalene's curt sniff, Dayn leaned his staff on the wall. “Please, come in. Please.”

  “It’s quite alright. I’m pleased to find your family home, goodwife―and not chasing me down the road at that.” The Preceptor pointedly avoided looking at Dayn. “I heard a fair number of dogs at the last homestead I meant to visit, and decided the attempt was not worth the risk. My legs are ill-suited to Shard's ground, I'm afraid I would serve as rather dull prey.”

  Lurec smiled stiffly, yet somehow still sincere enough for Hanalene to freely return it. The Preceptor’s sharp blue eyes scoured every detail of their home as he spoke.

  “Grahm's beasts are loud enough,” Hanalene replied. “But slobbering you to drowning is all they're good for.”

  “Fair enough.” Lurec offered a friendly nod to Tela, who regarded the offworlder curiously. “I trust your neighbor is unhurt, after the night? Grahm, was it?”

  “Peace be praised, his whole family is safe.” Hanalene pinched her daughter's cheek fondly. Dayn’s face heated at the smug look Tela cast in his direction. “But are times so dire that Ringmen have foregone their names?”

  “Forgive me, goodwife. I am Lurec.” The Preceptor gave Dayn a reproachful look. “Strange days dance in the World Belt. Even such a beautiful world as Shard will be hard pressed to avoid them, I'm afraid.”

  “Forgive our...surprise, Ringman. We never receive visitors in the Mistlands. I am Hanalene Ro'Halan, and you are welcome in this home. How may we aid the Ring?”

  The Preceptor brightened considerably. “Peace favor you for your kindness, goodwife. It is also―how did you say it? In short supply this morning,” he murmured. Then he intoned, “I tread upon this world only at the Ring's behest. Not for the world of my birth, nor for personal gain. I accept your assistance as does the World Belt which I serve.”

  Dayn recognized the traditional forms from one of his adventure books, An Account of Guardian Benlor's Third Circuit. Ringmen were servants to the World Belt who renounced all ties to hearth and homeworld. They were always afforded the highest respect for their devotion. And Dayn had met him at the door with a staff. The Preceptor probably counted it as one of the worst greetings of his life.

  “As Shard goes, so the Belt follows.” Lurec’s serious words held the sound of an old saying, although Dayn had never heard the like before. “Some of my fellows believe a Query needs to take place. They confer with your Misthaven leaders as we speak. Your village has been named more than once in those...considerations.”

  “But why?” Hanalene looked stricken. “There’s no fighting for the Ring to punish.”

  “To find the truth and deliver aid, nothing more. There are Defenders on Shard, but upon my word, they are only here for our protection. We understand Mistland beasts are rather dangerous.”

  Hanalene regained her composure, clearly relieved. “The wilds are not nearly what those Misthaveners make of them. Certainly not enough to rouse Defenders from the Ring.”

  “You needn't worry about them,” Lurec replied dryly. “I've left them in the capital for the time being.”

  A Preceptor's word is as sure as fruit on the tree, the saying went. Dayn did not believe every story he read, but somehow he believed this man, and felt himself relax. Defenders were great and terrible warriors, some of the most feared in the World Belt. Dayn hoped never to see one in his life.

  The Preceptor's knowing blue eyes latched onto Dayn’s bandaged shoulder. “Seems like you could tell me about Shard's fauna firsthand! Dayn, was it? Did you come about these injuries in the troubles?”

  “Not really,” Dayn began, just as his mother cut in.

  “A wreathweaver―”

  They stopped awkwardly as Lurec looked on, silent and thoughtful. Dayn suddenly did not want this Preceptor and his Ring to know of his time within the Dreadfall at all. If the Misthaveners speak poison against Wia Wells, who knows what this Ringman thinks about the Dreadfall? He probably won’t believe a word I tell him. Dayn flashed his mother a quick look. Judging by Hanalene’s face, she was considering the same thing.

  “Wreathweaver...” The Preceptor pursed his lips. “So fatal to encounter, they are named after the ceremonial markers you Shardians place upon your graves.” Lurec spoke as though reciting a passage from some ancient book. Hanalene favored him with a dry look he did not notice.

  “Yes, that's right,” Dayn said.

  “You Shardians are truly hardy to dismiss such obvious wounds,” Lurec marveled. “It seems fortunate Defenders came after all. I wouldn’t know what to do if confronted by such a creature.”

  “Wreathweavers would never attack anyone on the roads,” Dayn admitted. He knew himself to be a poor liar, and sought to steer the conversation away from anything to do with the Dreadfall. “Gravespinners are worse, and there are more of them besides. Hundreds more. They infest the redbranch for leagues to the north of here.”

  The Preceptor's brow crinkled in disdain. “Another aberration, and just as aptly named. There are similar creatures on the world of Feralos, though I doubt they grow so large as here, due to―” Lurec abruptly stopped, muttering to himself. “Forgive my prattling. I have a fascination with the Belt's fauna. I recall that wr
eathweavers prefer rocky terrain. I've seen nothing surrounding here but woodlands, this...redbranch. Did your encounter occur nearby?”

  To Dayn's dismay, Tela chose that moment to speak. “Tell him, brother!” The Preceptor regarded her expectantly. “Just before the Southforte swamps. That's where it’s rocky.” She beamed at Lurec. “Dayn took me there once.”

  “Is that so?” Hanalene asked, in a too-sweet voice. Her scathing gold eyes were not exactly a Query, but promised sharp words once the Preceptor departed.

  “Southforte folks call it the Slide Rocks.” Dayn spoke hesitantly under his mother's frown. “The swamps undercut the bluffs there, and all kinds of things get churned up during floods. Sometimes we find relics, but mostly moondrops and ember-eyes. Our gemcutter trades well for them.”

  “But there are relics, you say?” Lurec asked, eyebrows rising speculatively. “Relics interest me.”

  “Dayn has the best collection in all the Mistlands,” Tela added proudly.

  Peace keep you, Tela, Dayn thought.

  “Then my son will be certain to show them to you,” Hanalene said. “You have traveled far, Preceptor. I’ll prepare you a suitable meal.” Lurec began to protest, but she shushed him firmly. “No, I insist. Ringmen still eat, I imagine? My husband will return soon. He’s part of the Village Council and can give you a full account of the...quake.”

  “Shardian hospitality is highly spoken of, and rightly so. I thank you.” Lurec bowed graciously, although Dayn noticed him glance outside, measuring the daylight. “Please, Dayn. Show me this collection of yours.”

  Hanalene nodded briskly, and swept out to the garden. Reluctantly, Dayn beckoned the Preceptor down to his bedroom, with Tela trailing behind as though she meant to guard him.

  Three sturdy shelves, each carved with Laman's precise scrollwork, were laden with Dayn's rarest discoveries. The collection boasted mostly stones with eye-catching, speckled patterns. The Preceptor dismissed them with a glance. He fixed on the truly unique even faster than Dayn expected.

  “Quite impressive. Many Preceptors in the Halls of Safeguarding might trade you a limb for such a specimen.” He inspected a lime-colored rock wide enough to cover Dayn's palm, crisscrossed with yellow flecks that played tricks on the eyes. From certain angles, the rock looked as if a baby lizard’s bones were trapped inside it.

  A small woven basket held Dayn's assortment of gems, mostly firedrops, moondrops, and ember-eyes. To Dayn's surprise, they all went entirely ignored by the Preceptor. He would expect any offworlder to drool over just one or two of the stones. But then, this man was not just any offworlder.

  “You’re afraid of me, afraid of why I’m here. But I don’t believe you’re deceitful.” Lurec traced a finger along Laman’s carving as he spoke.

  “I think everyone’s afraid after last night,” Dayn said cautiously. Something about the Preceptor's manner made him nervous.

  “May I...?” The Ringman lifted a six-sided cylindrical object from the lower shelf at Dayn's consenting nod. A metallic sheen covered it in patches, and curious angular markings were etched into a surface smoothed by untold ages.

  “I will say this. You did not exaggerate. Few people of the Belt could dream of such finds. Few Ringmen, for that matter. The Halls of Understanding have overlooked Shard to our detriment, it appears.”

  “That one’s pretty!” Tela said. “Do you know what it is?”

  A sad smile crossed Lurec’s lips. “An angel tear, one of only a few thousand from a sad age long forgotten. I would tell you of its history, if time permitted. Another day, perhaps.” He returned the object, unconsciously wiping his hands on his coat like someone who had just handled filth.

  “The Elders I asked all said they didn't know where it came from,” Dayn mused. “But I think they just didn't want to tell me.”

  “They have their reasons. Some stories are fit to make the stones weep,” Lurec replied, giving the remaining shelves a disinterested sweep. “I see your heart as true, young Shardian. Tell me, why were you in the Dreadfall?”

  Tela gasped, and Dayn's mouth went dry. “It’s bad luck to go there,” he stammered. “I find plenty of gems by the swamps of Southforte. There’s no reason to go east.”

  Lurec nodded patiently. Preceptors were said to remember every page of a book after reading it only once, and they could pick out one dishonest man from a dozen with a single question. “I hoped you would be more forthcoming without your mother present. Please, do not lie to me.”

  “Don't take my brother away!” Tela suddenly burst into tears. She darted unexpectedly to Dayn, wrapping herself around his waist. Still somewhat weak, Dayn reached out to steady himself. His basket of gems tumbled to the floor. “Please! He won't go there again! Promise him, brother. Say you won't!”

  “Child, I―” The Preceptor looked positively mortified, but made no move to quiet Tela. He ignored her sobs completely, staring at the scattered gems.

  “Peace embrace us all,” He whispered, a stunned look on his face. “Do you know what this is?”

  The Preceptor's hands trembled as he reached for an object Dayn had thought never to see again. He stared dumbly at the small red orb once more.

  “No, I...I just barely found it. I thought I lost it in the Fall.” Dayn gently pulled free of Tela's protective embrace. The Preceptor looked ready to faint right where he stood, so Dayn took hold of his arm to steady him. He then scooped up the Seed and handed it to the Ringman once it became clear Lurec was too stunned to take hold of it. Wonder lit the Preceptor’s face as he left the room wordlessly, with suddenly purposeful strides.

  Dayn followed, completely bewildered as he attempted to comfort Tela. Am I in trouble or not? he wondered.

  “Preceptor?” Hanalene stood in the kitchen, holding a tray of freshly plucked fervorberries and steaming tea. She looked understandably perplexed as the Ringman waved the grime-covered orb in the air like he held the lost key to an Ista Cham palace.

  “I must return to the Ring at once!” Lurec said urgently. Feverish intensity shone in his eyes.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m honor-bound against interference upon your world. But your son has brought something to my attention, something I must be allowed to procure with the utmost haste.”

  “Nothing good ever comes from the Fall,” Hanalene whispered. “I nearly went there to throw that back in myself. Take it.”

  “We are good Shard folk, we don't want trouble here,” Dayn chimed in. “You can have it. I’ll give it to you.”

  The Preceptor let loose an anguished laugh. “I cannot. I am bound to Ring law, you must understand.” He cradled the orb carefully, as though it might shatter from a gust of wind. “Your husband can free you of this burden, as he holds some position of authority on your world. Peace send he returns soon. Dayn here can accompany me down the road to meet him. I need to know everything about where he found it.”

  “No!” Hanalene said sharply, before remembering herself. “He has...he needs to stay until my husband returns. Please. The village will look upon him harshly for being near the Dreadfall in the first place. If this thing is important, I believe you. But our folk may not agree, and we must live with them long after you are gone.”

  “The longer I remain, the more attention will fall on this district, goodwife,” Lurec warned. “Attention that will not soon be forgotten. I am forbidden to take possession of Dayn’s property, but he mustn’t leave my sight until that restriction is lifted.”

  Hanalene's shoulders slumped in resignation. “Tela, go to the village. Find your father and bring him home.” Tela nodded solemnly, then sprinted off to grab her shoes.

  “Mother, I can get there twice as quickly,” Dayn protested. “I should be the one to go!”

  Lurec cleared his throat. “For that to happen, young Shardian, I shall be obliged to accompany you.”

  “He’s not leaving here,” Hanalene said firmly. “Dayn, she’ll be fine on the road. Especially if you trust her
on the Sliding Rocks,” she added in a dry tone. “It’s best you stay away from the village for a while, until things are...settled.”

  “I’ll come back soon, mother!” Tela entered the room, prancing triumphantly before she left. Dayn watched her from the window, bounding swiftly westward until she was out of sight.

  Lurec sat on their worn couch at Hanalene’s urging. The Preceptor remained polite enough, commenting absently on how delicious the refreshments were, but Dayn's artifact clearly commanded all of his attention.

  “What is it?” Dayn asked finally, as he joined the Preceptor. Hanalene sat across from them in Laman’s padded leather chair.

  “This is...a Seed.” As he took in their blank looks, regret filled Lurec’s blue eyes. “It’s very old, and very powerful. It was conceived during an age of great peace, days like the World Belt has never known. Some believe it to be a weapon, but there’s more knowledge contained within it than all the repositories of the Belt combined.”

  “But what does it do?” The Preceptor's words begged more questions than they answered. Dayn certainly did not want to be known for finding a weapon. That would make his time in the Dreadfall look that much worse. He did not see how the strange orb could compare to a Defender's sword, or even a staff.

  “All of the Seeds were thought to be lost thousands of years ago. If this one is fully functional, I—” Lurec stopped himself with a grimace. “I’ll say no more until your father arrives. For now, you will tell me how you came to be in the Dreadfall. Your discovery will impact the World Belt for years to come. But it’s still not enough to ignore the tremors of a worldheart.”

  “I wanted to course, is all. I was supposed to begin Attendant training on First Mist, so my best friend and I...” Dayn retold his adventure. He cringed to see the hurt in his mother's face deepen as the Preceptor's piercing inquiry forced him to reveal how long he had secretly prepared himself for the Dreadfall.

  Lurec asked very particular questions about the Seed, as well. He seemed very satisfied to hear about the swarming creatures and toadstools where Dayn found it, for some reason. Lurec balked at giving up the Seed, but even a Preceptor of the Ring could not refuse Hanalene’s insistence for long. She began to clean the orb as Dayn spoke.