The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (29 page)

“Well, I do have a concern that some of the folks outside our walls may not be entirely trustworthy, and I was hoping you might lend me three or four of your Trusts? I’d like to make sure that we don’t invite anyone in who would only contribute to the problems we’re having.” Toby winced slightly in his request. It wasn’t the normal function of a Trust, and he knew it.

“It’s entirely possible that some who live in Stanton are not entirely trustworthy. Would you be asking them to leave as well?” There was a small amount of skepticism in Osric’s tone, and he narrowed his eyes at the question.

“Now, I know a Trust is typically only used in small circles.” Toby raised his hands, trying to calm any suspicions.

“And for good reason. A hungry man may have theft in his heart only as long as he is hungry and has no option to work for it. A Trust could only see his intent to steal, not that he would work for it given the chance,” Osric replied.

“Now, that’s not fair. You would have sole control of the Trusts, and I would invite you to join them, if you wish.” Toby took a deep breath and leaned in, speaking with a reasoning tone. “I wouldn’t ask to keep out all, just those who may have been sent with orders to cause mischief. We will be feeding them before they enter the gates, so I would think that they would go unused for most of the day. I’ve thought this through. Anyone intent on wrongdoings not directed at the palace should be allowed to pass. I have faith that the giving nature of our people would negate most of the other intentions by eliminating their need.”

Osric relaxed somewhat with the explanation, but his own Trust ability, along with a strange surge in the Seer gift, indicated that it was something he should consider. If that wasn’t enough, the Portentist gift had chosen that moment to reassert itself as a mature gift within his mind.

The reemergence of the gift was a welcome surprise to the uncertainty about which path to chose. He had been forced to make too many choices lately without knowing where the danger lay. Still, it wasn’t only wondering about whether the choice held danger that held him up—this time, anyway. It was the morality of using the Trust gift to choose which of the many destitute men, women, and children to allow to make his home their own. Even knowing that three separate gifts indicated it was the right action didn’t make the choice easier.

Osric sat there thinking silently as Toby and Kenneth looked at him, waiting. His head was in turmoil about having to pick between following magic’s guidance and his own feelings on what was right. There was a large difference between testing someone to see if they would be a good fit to join the Aranthians and seeing if they were worthy to make a life inside Stanton’s walls. Even the compromises Toby mentioned felt like too little, considering that turning people away meant that Aranthians would be responsible for endangering people.

He looked to Kenneth, searching for some clarity of thought, and noticed that the Empath ability was indicating that his childhood friend had been surprised by Toby’s request as well, and that settled it. He knew that his answer would be no, but he was struck with another idea.

“I’ll offer you a compromise.” Osric looked Toby in the eyes, in all seriousness.

“Okay, I’m always interested in better ideas. If you have one, let me hear it.” He nodded.

“It has come to my attention that we need to be more selective in which gifts we choose, as well as choosing those we can trust, to become an Aranthian. Up until now, we have chosen a bit too indiscriminately.” Osric took a deep breath, knowing he was about to give himself more work. “We will send our Trusts outside the walls in search of more to join our cause. The Aranthian cause.”

“Okay.” This time it was Toby’s turn to look concerned.

“I’ll pair each of them with a Wand-Maker and set up recruitment tents to let people know exactly what we are about to do. Each will be examined to see which gift they have. If they have one that is desirable for what we are in need of, they will be examined by the Trust.”

“I’m not sure how this plan will help me with Stanton’s needs.” Toby shifted in his chair.

“How many people are outside our gates?” Osric met his gaze.

“Last count, about four hundred” Toby shrugged. “Why?”

“Because”—Osric leaned in—“to a Portentist, this place would be like a magnet. I’ve had three Trusted in just over the last week. One said he could feel the portent radiating from Stanton all the way in Barlington. There will be a higher than normal concentration of Portentists in that crowd, and if Kenneth could spare a few recruiters of his own, we could help you bolster the Vigile numbers with a very useful gift.”

“If we could get a few more Portentists in our numbers, that would make a world of difference.” Kenneth smiled, nodding his head. A hint of a smile began to show on Toby’s face as well.

“But here is the compromise.” Osric tapped the table with his forefinger. “Every able, willing man and woman at that gate will be welcomed into Stanton, assuming they wish to make it their home. Any troubles we face after that should be as easy to handle as the ones we faced before all of this happened.” After he said it aloud, it didn’t seem like as much work as he thought it would be.

Toby hesitated only for a moment before he nodded, and then he began to laugh, rubbing his hands over his shaved head.

“Even though you refuse to work for me as Contege, I sure am glad you are here and on our side.” Toby waved a hand in Kenneth’s direction. “Not that I wasn’t happy to name you to the post.” Then he stood up, placing a hand out for Osric to shake. “But I believe you are meant for something bigger than that position anyway. I accept your terms and thank you for the meal. We should do this more often. Your council is very much appreciated.”

“Thanks, and I appreciate your leadership of Stanton too. I think I get things wrong just about as much as I get them right, but I look forward to every moment we spend in one another’s company. It seems to come too little these days.” Osric stood up, stepped around the table, and shook the Ryhain’s hand.

18 — The Other Seer

Chanda sat in an overstuffed chair surrounded by books, disbelief in her eyes. After her failed interpretation of Bridgett’s vision, she had been set aside for so long without being called upon. Now, after months of tutelage under the revered Serha, and Serha’s untimely death, she found herself sitting in a room with Osric, Aridis, Gus, and Eublin while they discussed matters that had worldwide significance.

True, Serha hadn’t been the most gentle of instructors; yet in spite of that, Chanda valued the lessons she had learned. But after being placed under the direct supervision of someone so renowned for so long, she had a hard time understanding why she was being thrust to the forefront of the important matters involving Seer work. She had, after all, been the one responsible for nearly bringing an end to the very foundation of the Aranthians. She bore the guilt of that mistake the only way she knew how: Chanda kept it buried inside, as a reminder of her foolish past. She vowed to never repeat the mistakes that had led her to these humbling past few months.

“The books triggered some sort of response from Serha’s gift. Maybe it will do the same for yours.” Eublin looked up at her where she sat across from him. Then, he turned toward Aridis with regret. “I apologize, my friend. I should have spoken softer and with more consideration,” he added.

Aridis nodded. “Her death will mean something if we can gain some knowledge from her experience.” He reached over and placed a soft hand on Eublin’s shoulder. “Please, don’t apologize for bringing her light to this dark time.”

“When the hunt changes, her name will echo through the ages.” Eublin patted Aridis’s hand with understanding and turned back to Chandra. “Are you willing to offer your assistance to this venture?”

“I am willing,” she replied. Though, there was a great deal of fear keeping her from foolishly throwing herself into the role of a Seer again. “But I am sure that dozens of others are more suited to this task than I.”

“Serha believed you would play a great role in the events of this time,” Osric replied. His expression showed both his trust in her as well as his lack of sympathy for her timid nature. “So, let’s prove her assumptions correct and get on with it.”

“I already played a great role in our time. I nearly kept you and Bridgett apart,” she sulked.

“I understand your lack of confidence. If I had bungled up that bad, I would have never been able to sell a wand. Luckily for you, we already know you will overcome your early folly.” Gus stepped forward with a smile on his face. “Unless you lack faith in Serha’s abilities?”

“No.” Chanda shook her head. “She was the greatest Seer Archana has ever known, but even she berated me for my mistakes up until the very end. How can she be right about my greatness and my foolishness? I’ve been such a fool for so many years. It’s hard to think of myself as anything else.”

“Well.” Gus stepped forward, sarcasm plain on his furry face. “I’ve been widely regarded as the greatest Wand-Maker of our time for most of my life. It wasn’t until my inexperienced child taught me something I’d never thought of that I realized what an idiot I’d been all along. Life is so much easier when nobody has to prove to you that you’re an idiot. Your understanding of that fact should be a blessing, not a curse.”

Chuckles echoed throughout the library as the group gathered together by a few tables, with Gus wandering through the group in high spirits while Kenneth and Osric leaned against the end of a bookcase. Eublin pushed up his spectacles with a thin finger and a broad smile.

“We’ve all been trying to tell him he was an idiot for some time. Children have a way of getting the point across that surpasses any army’s efforts.” Kenneth nodded with a supportive glance.

“It’s true. Everyone here has done their best to show me things I didn’t understand at the time. I didn’t understand them because they so fundamentally went against everything I thought I knew. Yet, there was one thing we all thought we knew, and a child taught us all that we were wrong.”

“What one thing?” Chanda asked. Her interest was piqued. What could everyone have thought they knew, only to be proven wrong by a child?

“It turns out, after decades of debate on the subject, that unicorns can talk,” Eublin interjected.

“Uni… What?!” Dumbfounded, Chanda shook her head as if something had become lodged in her hair and it had to be shaken out.

“My reaction was very similar to yours, only I leapt at my son and frolicked through the grass like an idiot for a long while.” Gus nodded.

“They don’t actually talk. They communicate telepathically. It seems their vocal ability is limited by their biology.” Eublin stepped forward, resembling an instructor giving a lesson to his students. “Their bodies just aren’t set up to allow for vocalization of thought. To add insult to our ignorance, they are a terribly proper community that insists upon etiquette. If you are thought of as rude then there is no chance any of them will speak to you.”

“And you have too many of my sort attempting to study them, then teaching the rest of the world what we learn from those encounters. Wand-Maker’s have never been too cordial in our dealings with others. Rather than offering our knowledge to further the craft, we debate who is right in an effort to stand out from the crowd and make a name for ourselves.” Gus frowned playfully. “We may have been responsible for stifling the advancement of magical knowledge while attempting to do the opposite. We can save so many more lives with what we know now. Wars can be avoided with the crop advancements and water reclamation knowledge we have gained. Who knows how many sentient species have died unnecessarily, just because we didn’t know unicorns could communicate and would let us look at their magic if only we would have asked first.”

“How horrible!” Chanda took a quick inhale of breath and held her hand up in front of her mouth as the reality of it all set in.

“Indeed.” Gus nodded with a smile.

Gus laughed. It wasn’t a long laugh, but it was startling to the Seer who sat listening to someone admit to unknowingly being a part of something that set the world back by several generations. It was a heartfelt, short-lived, belly laugh.

“That’s an odd thing to laugh at.” Kenneth squinted with one eye.

“I’m laughing because I’ve only just learned how stupid I am. Life would have been so easy if I had known it a long time ago. Life is easy now. I don’t have to fight with anyone who thinks I’m wrong anymore. Now, I assume I am wrong. It’s so much more fun that way. So what if you’re an idiot? The rest of us are too. You’ll mess up along the way, no doubt. Just grab the book and see what happens. We’ll all try to sort through it afterward.” Gus’s ear twitched wildly as he looked at her with eager eyes.

Chanda looked at Gus uncertainly. His argument made some sense, and she found a strange comfort in knowing they expected some failure to occur. From the way Gus was speaking, she suspected that their plans might even allow for uncertainty, but still she doubted herself while reaching ever so tentatively for the book on the desk.

“Did Gus just get away with calling us all idiots?” Kenneth looked to the other members of the group.

“I think so.” Osric nodded.

“I believe he did too. And to tell the truth, I can’t fault him for his logic.” Eublin looked up with appreciation on his face while Aridis simply smiled, nodding in affirmation.

Chanda placed her hand on the book on the table she was seated at, holding her eyes closed in expectation of the coming vision, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes slowly, cringing. Osric placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s all right. We don’t really know if this will work, but it is worth trying. Will you keep trying?”

Chanda nodded, smiling up at him. She opened the cover and traced her fingers over the paper. It felt strangely warm and comforting, and she grew less hesitant and anxious. Chanda flipped through the pages, resting her hand briefly on the foreign writing of each page. She was a quarter of the way through the book and her frustration was building. Nothing was happening, not even the strong urge that she often felt and associated with her gift. She looked up at Osric, ready to give up, but he smiled and nodded encouragingly. Chanda sighed softly and turned the page again. As her fingers lit upon the parchment, she was transported to a strange and unfamiliar location.