The Arcanist (4 page)

Edouard looked up to see another of the handmaidens standing in front of them. This one at least was a mortal woman, though still not a dryad. She was human. Humans, demonesses, dryads and even a satyr. He'd seen them all mixed in among the handmaidens as they'd walked. Tyrel it seemed was drawing a very mixed crowd these days. Maybe she always had.

“Indeed good handmaiden. We bring some words of a terrible loss of life including those of innocent women and children and some questions too if the Honoured Mother will consent to listen to them.”

And if she wouldn't that would be more than fine by him. They would simply turn on their heels and march right out of there as fast as they could go without giving offence. He didn't like this place. Actually as a man who'd occasionally worked against Tyrel's interests, it scared the seven hells out of him. Unfortunately he had a very sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that she would want to hear his words. If only to set her eyes on the spark that had been annoying her for so many years.

“Wait here. I will bring your request to the Mother.”

The handmaiden walked gracefully away, her long white gold hair shining in the sun like a crown, her dress swaying gently as she did so. In her own way Edouard thought, she was every bit as seductive as the demoness. And just as out of place.

White gold hair hanging all the way down to her waist, white gold eyebrows as well, and skin that almost glowed with a healthy golden tan. She had to be of the Tenarri, a people whose women wore their hair straight down their backs in loose plaits. And whose homeland lay a thousand leagues and two seas to the east of them. She was a very long way from home, and that distance was measured in more than just leagues.

The Tenarri were a warrior people, though that in his view was doing them too much credit. They were really a collection of tribal war bands constantly fighting over the land and the right to rule. Or rather the number of people they could rule. Each house was always looking for a way to steal villages and towns off its rivals. That usually amounted to trumping up some imagined charge and then attacking immediately. As for the people of those towns and villages they constantly fought over, they were little more than slaves. No matter which House ruled them, they had to work for them.

This woman was no peasant though. She was too well spoken for that. Which meant that she had to be from one of the noble houses. Such a woman would always be ready for war as the various families constantly sought the chance to attack. But she was unarmed and that for her had to be shocking. Her people always wore their swords proudly and they knew how to use them. Men and women both. There was a riddle there, a question to be answered, but he knew he would not have the time to ask it.

“She's not a dryad.”

“Tenarri, now hush!” He kicked his brother again, but not too hard this time. “And eyes down!”

But even as he shushed his brother, Edouard pondered the fact that the handmaiden hadn't asked for their names. Either Tyrel knew them, which seemed unlikely, or she didn't care. Why didn't she care? Was it that all men were the same to her – sinners? Or was it that there was no point in knowing their names when they were about to die? Edouard didn't like that thought. But he knew it was a possibility.

He carefully didn't mention his concern to Marcus. His brother had enough to deal with in just remembering to be respectful. So instead of talking about it, they stood silently in the bright sunshine and waited.  They seemed to wait forever though that was probably just nerves. Of course his brother hated silence as much as he hated inactivity.

“Why are you so edgy?”

Edouard sighed as he realised his older brother still didn't understand the precariousness of their position. It wasn't surprising. Magic wasn't well understood by most people. There were few practitioners and most people lived quiet lives without needing it. Especially when there was technology to fill the void. Then too Therion had been a peaceful place for a long time. No one had seen the effects of a malicious cast in years if not decades. And when something like that did happen, it was merely a curiosity. He had to think for a moment about how to explain it to him. But at least while there were no handmaidens nearby to overhear them, he could.

“You remember that boar you hunted down with just a knife when you were fifteen?” Of course he did. It was one of his proudest achievements. A fifteen year old boy taking on a wild boar with a knife. Marcus nodded.

“Now consider that we're here preparing for that same battle again. But this time the boar stands a hundred men high at the shoulder, breaths fire, and instead of a knife you have a turnip in your hand.”

“A turnip?”

Marcus stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. Maybe he had misspoken Edouard thought.

“If that. If this goes badly, we'll both be dead before you can ask what happened. Or worse. And the lady does not like me.”

“What?! Now you tell me?” Marcus turned abruptly to stare at him. Finally his brother understood something, if only that he shouldn't be there with him.

“She doesn't dislike me. I hope. But our paths have crossed over the years. I've helped a few runaways from time to time. I’ve got them to safety. She will not be happy about that.”

“Runaways?”

“Many stupid boys from the nearer towns like Breakwater come to this temple thinking to spy on the pretty women. Many husbands and boyfriends journey here hoping to drag back their loved ones. Few of them escape the grounds, and of those that do fewer still would get away without my help.”

And of course because of that there was an extra problem for the two of them. If they had to escape, who would be there to help them? No one else would be so stupid as him.

A little later they watched the handmaiden return, walking sedately and with a smile on her face. A smile she wore presumably because she had been speaking with her Honoured Mother. It was supposed to be a privilege even for her handmaidens. Then again maybe it was because she had also been granted the privilege of escorting her mistress to them; Edouard could see the hamadryad only a little way behind her. So could his brother, and Marcus looked to be about to say something stupid in his shock.

“Bow!” Edouard hissed at his brother and then kicked him when that wasn't enough. He had to kick Marcus hard to remind him of what was expected in the court of a power. The big oaf just wanted to stand there and stare. But the pain was instructive and they both bowed low before her as they waited.

Perhaps it wasn't too unreasonable for him to want to stare though. Tyrel was a very surprising sight.

In form she might have been human, more or less. Even quite attractive, in a strange and magical sort of a way. If you liked bark for skin and ferns for hair, the odd twig and leaf here and there, and of course a woman who stood twelve feet high. Tens of thousands of years ago her dryad ancestors it was said – no one knew for certain – had somehow merged with the trees they served, and her kind were the offspring of those outlandish unions. But form counted for little in the true world and even as small a spark as Edouard was could see the aura of power that surrounded her. Magical might so intense that it somehow made the entire world seem grey and false. Staring at her for a spark was like a normal man staring at the sun – blinding.

That was the difference between him and his brother. Marcus saw only a twelve foot tall tree woman. He could fight such a woman. Edouard saw the unquestionable might of a power and he knew there could be no battle. It would be easier to fight an erupting volcano.

“Edouard Severin of the House of Barris. Your name is known to me.”

Of course it was, Edouard thought, though he wished very much that it wasn't.

“You would be the nuisance living on the edge of my domain, upsetting my handmaidens.”

The first words out of her mouth, and Edouard's blood ran cold. But he had expected the accusation and he steeled himself to give an answer. The best answer that he could.

“I do indeed live on the edge of your domain Honoured Mother, but it has never been my intention to cause you or your handmaidens annoyance.” Especially now that he was in her temple garden, standing not ten feet from her, his neck aching already as he strained to look up at her. A place he had never planned on being.

“And yet you do.” Sweat was starting to bead on Edouard's forehead as he straightened up and tried to look respectful.

“I apologise most humbly for that.” He did. Actually he would have fallen to his knees and grovelled if it would have helped. It was only the fact that he knew it wouldn't that kept him standing on his shaking legs.

“I suppose that it is meet that you have come to apologise.” The hamadryad seemed almost pleased by the thought. “Few among your kind would do so, even knowing that they had wronged me.”

His kind
Edouard knew, wasn't human or even mortal. It was men. Men of all races. The Mother really didn't like them. But he let that slight pass as he kept his hands politely crossed before him and tried to maintain a calm but respectful demeanour.

“So from this day forward we can expect no more of these mistakes?” The lady asked so sweetly that Edouard almost agreed on the spot. He didn't want to disappoint her. But he had to be honest. Besides, she would know a lie anyway.

“I'm sorry Honoured Mother, but I cannot promise that.” He wished he could though. Wished it with every fibre and sinew of his being. Then it was his turn to grunt with pain as he felt his brother's steel clad boot connect with his shin. That hurt!

“Oh?” She did not sound amused.

“Though these men, most of them little more than boys, have committed wrongs against your handmaidens, the wrongs they have committed are small, and the fear in their hearts is large. I could not in good conscience return boys with such terrible fear to the one they are afraid of. It would be intolerably cruel.”

And he would likely be sending them to their deaths, if they were lucky. The Honoured Mother had a brutal sense of justice. That was the reason he helped them to run. These were not horrible, vile men. They were not rapists and murderers out to take what they could get from the mother's servants. For the most part they were stupid young village boys, out as part of a dare or simply for curiosity, to spy on the pretty women who peopled her temple. Boys doing boyish things.

“I am never cruel.” Tyrel seemed a little annoyed by the idea, even though her system of justice was barbaric at best. The luckiest of the boys would probably have had their eyes and their manhood torn from them simply for the crime of staring.

“Of course not Honoured Mother. It's just that these children fear your wrath so greatly that their hearts might well explode in their chests even at the thought of coming before you.”

“They know that they have done wrong in spying on your handmaidens. I have always made sure that they understand that at least. And when they run off to faraway places, they will spread the word of their mistakes to others, and so I hope warn others not to be so foolish.”

Actually they mostly ran to the nearer cities he suspected, and learned to drink vast quantities of ale as they told their tall tales to the other drunken patrons. They might actually make things worse. But they were still children and lovesick fools for the most part. He would have sent any violent thugs back to her.

“A pretty tongue and a fool’s heart.” The Mother seemed unimpressed with him as she gave her verdict. But at least she didn't sound angry. But then if she had been angry they would likely already be dead.

“I am but a simple mortal honoured Mother.” He bowed again, almost daring to breathe as he did so. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be forgiven his crimes. Maybe they'd be able to leave this place intact.

And then Marcus had to open his mouth.

“This is stupid –.” Edouard kicked him, very hard, stopping his impertinent outburst before it got any further. But the damage was done, and the hamadryad's gaze had shifted from him to his brother.

“Please forgive my brother his ill-judged words Honoured Mother.” Edouard gave the desperate apology knowing that he did not ever want to see what she might do to Marcus if he annoyed her. “He meant no disrespect. He is a good man with a good heart, and an honest soldier. He would not have come here at all save that his king commanded him to.”