“I’m not calling the technique ‘the death note,’ it’s a terrible na. It sounds like sothing a tax collector would scribble in a ledger.”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable na. My favoured technique is called Death Wave. It is better to be accurate and descriptive. None of that Knightly Ascendant Hamr nonsense.”
“Then doesn’t every technique end up being called death-sothing?”
“Not necessarily. Did we not earlier practise the Whisper of Death?” I went to argue, then caught a hint of—not a smile, but Marek’s perpetual frown did ease. Was that a joke?
Oh, by the Sidhe, Marek was trying to inject so fun into our conversation! How poor must my mood be if the Death Witch was trying to cheer up?
It had been a week since the news of the war had splashed cold water over our rry band. The impact was different for each of us. Arthur and his Knights had gone into training overdrive. Sephy was included in this, though her ti was also consud by frequent visits to the library of the main estate. She wouldn't tell what she was researching, though from the books it seed tied to the fall of the Atlantean empire.
Our few conversations were stilted, not helped by my unwanted obligations with Maeve. We had t a couple of tis late at night in the observatory, but those sessions ended up being purely physical expressions of our passion for each other.
Not being able to speak with her openly left feeling unbalanced and listless.
She had at least confided that sothing specific was weighing on her, but she wanted more information before she spoke of it to or anyone else. Being unable to help her left feeling raw and upset in a way I’d never known before. It was a unique torture to see those you cared about distressed yet find yourself unable to aid them. And it wasn’t just Sephy.
I was being driven to madness by the word fine. My companions claid to be ‘alright’, ‘okay’, ‘good’, but fine was the most popular untruth. Each ti I heard it was like the bow of viola being dragged the wrong way across the strings.
Those associated with Fosburg were stirred into a worry. Elaine spent as much ti in the dream chamber as out of it. Lance was devouring every book on intent, hassling the entire lodge for their insights. Having been left out of the last battle due to being only Bronze, she refused to let it happen again. Gring was an unexpected beacon of stability, keeping her anchored by doing all manner of training with her. Outside of that, he kept pestering about writing his verse.
Gaz and Tiff were having serious discussions about their marriage—not if, but when it should happen. It had co to a head yesterday after Gaz managed to reach Iron. What should have been a celebration turned into a shouting match that everyone heard. The usually harmonious couple clashed, and it turns out Tiff was also gifted with sound glamour.
Her shout of, ‘I'd rather risk being a widow than face the regret of never calling you my husband,’ would live with forever.
Our assorted extras turned into ghosts—never seen and only hinted at. Tristan and Kay I barely saw. I understood Kay was offering up as much information as she could muster, having been in one of their major cities for training before being relocated to the fae realm. The only sign of Tristan was empty inkwells and the mounds of correspondence stacked in the lodge library from his many admirers. That, and the scribblings that’d appear overnight on the map as he tried to piece together a more detailed picture of the invasion.
Maeve was the exception, she instead haunted personally. She appeared out of nowhere with questions about the Divine Cultivators or sought specific confirmation or additional context on all manner of random details found on my crystal dossier. The first couple of tis I forced us to discuss such things over tea, rather than allowing her to harangue in a corridor to add to our story. However, given our distracted audience and the clumsy ss she beca each ti I did so, I quickly gave up.
The distance between us all left trapped with my thoughts. Key amongst them was what I wanted to do. I could sense a quest coming on, a sense that fate was trying to work its hooks into . Ready to drag from the calm waters in which I'd been enjoying.
“Ti to wrap it up there,” Marek said, snapping the book shut.
“Sorry?” I blinked, trying to work out what was going on.
“You’re clearly distracted, and I refuse to work on glamour such as this while you are so far gone.”
“I—You’re right. The war and everything.” I was embarrassed. Given how Marek prized willpower and attention, I was expecting a dressing down of epic proportions. However, the Witch surprised by letting out a long, contemplative sigh.
“My teacher would always chastise at tis like these, insisting that this is when you need the most focus, and then give extra work to get back on the path,” Marek reminisced.
“You disagree?” I winced. The more I learned of his teacher, the more I was amazed that Marek was not a worse tutor.
“I think there are tis to focus. When the dragon is at the door, distractions are an unaffordable luxury. That is not the case here. With all this talk of war, it might feel like it is burning through the wood this second, but you have ti. Better to examine all your choices now than to make poor decisions.”
“Thank you, Marek,” I said, bowing my head to signal my respect and appreciation.
“I’m still giving you extra work, though.” I groaned, but my angst was re theatre. So extra tasks would help keep from brooding. “I want you to start making those totems and work on controlling the release of your power with your ‘as of yet unnad’ technique. The extra task is to co up with a good na for it.”
I agreed. At least the extra work was not an inconvenience. I had a few ideas for a na and was torn between working in the words Lant or Dirge. Requiem felt too gentle for a technique that slapped my foes with death glamour.
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Leaving the study, I wandered the halls of the Felix Lodge. I found the ss hall empty apart from so cold bread and cheese that showed signs of prior raids. Hoping to track down the culprits, I did a lap of all the main spaces where I expected to find my comrades, but every room was empty.
I was uncomfortably alone.
There was a deep temptation within to go and wait for or pester Sephy in the library of the main estate. I pushed that aside. I’d done that two days ago, and while she appreciated my company, I could see that I added to the stress of whatever she was researching.
So it was that an hour later, I found myself back where I’d started, in the study room staring at the map.
What did I even want to do? I could imagine the chaos and devastation that was set to co to the region, but how should I help? I was a bard, and while a few songs could work wonders for morale, they wouldn't defeat wandering monsters or slay the cruel bands of Divine Cultivators.
My pondering was interrupted as the door slid open. I was pleased for the interruption; I’d even take Arthur over this creeping loneliness. I wasn’t prepared for the smile that graced my lips when I saw who it was.
“Greetings, Pel.” I bowed slightly to the patriarch, who nodded back.
“Hello, Taliesin. Staring at the map again, are we?” Pel asked casually, gently letting know he’d been watching for however long. Mithril’s senses could spread for miles, so it wasn’t necessarily deliberate. It should have irritated ; I loathed the idea of being watched. Yet the warmth of his tone soothed away any irritation.
“I find myself without much else to do,” I replied.
“I apologise. I offered you lessons when you first joined us, but I’ve found myself quite busy.” His eyes flicked to the map.
“It would be selfish of to insist, not when I’m aware of what consus your attention.”
“Still, it’s important to . If you have so ti, I’d love to catch up, and I have so important lessons to impart.” He pushed the door shut, and I felt a subtle change in the glamour and the flow of aura around the room. The Mithril was locking down the world around us, clearing it of potential spies.
“Asking is a great kindness. I appreciate you making ti for . I’d always be happy to speak with you,” I replied, marvelling at how easily the words ca. I still found the idea of being an Artoss strange, but the idea of being connected to Pel felt as natural as slipping on a favoured boot.
“Even when you’re up in the observatory?”
“Er—” I flushed, my words imdiately faltering, my cheeks going red. He began to laugh. A hearty, piping laugh that reminded of my mother’s.
“Please forgive , but I needed a mont of mirth. I’m glad to know you and Lady Persephone have such zeal for the astronomical arts.” Innocent words beneath eyes brimming with mischief.
I locked my mouth up tight. My mother was the sa when it ca to poking and prodding . The less I fed it, the safer I was. His next attack, though, ca from an unexpected direction. “Should I expect Lady Maeve to take up a similar interest, or is her dabbling with such things more theoretical?”
It was only through great control that I managed to not splutter or squawk in protest. Of course he’d noticed!
I carefully assembled a truthful sentence to respond with. “Lady Maeve finds herself under pressure from her family to produce sothing of note. They believe it ideal if I could collaborate with her. I do not expect nor want the final output to be related to astronomy.”
“Ah, they want to capture so aspect of your wit and charm, yet on any output I’m certain they’d insist on it bearing the Chox na. Sothing like that, I imagine?” Pel asked, circling the study and checking on so books, as if our conversation was no more than idle chatter.
“Indeed. For the benefit of everyone, we decided it best if we could at least appear to be doing the groundwork together. Maeve believes this is likely a passing fancy.” My mind was moving at lightning speed, seeking a way to answer without lying.
“Good. A sensible action that avoids dragging in any of us old monsters. Know you can call on if you want soone to stand in your corner, but I appreciate you working this out as adults.” Pel’s face changed, becoming more serious. “Still, I’ll keep an eye out in any case. If she oversteps, I’ll get involved.”
“I’d rather you keep an eye out for Sephy—I an, Lady Persephone. It seems that there is an idea she could distract from this perceived duty.” I said, unprepared for the wide grin that Pel sent .
“Noble of you to say, but outside of the protection I offer to my guests, her great-grandfather is Percival De Graille, and he is a more than capable protector. Besides, I don’t imagine anyone would dare take action against the De Grailles right now.”
I gave him a long look, thinking back to Sephy in the library. She’d been given a lot of support by the staff in there. He sighed as I refused to look away from him.
“Yes, I know what it is that worries her, and no, I won’t tell you what it is. Other than to say I’m sure she’ll tell you soon, and it is better to be patient than force it.”
“I wouldn’t have asked,” I grumbled at the soft rebuke.
“But you would’ve let speak if I’d offered it?” My tongue tied itself in a knot as I tried to defend myself, my conviction to respecting her privacy ringing hollow. A part of had been hoping he’d share, speak the secret so I could know. So I could help.
Pel watched my turmoil, which made all the more aware of the ugly feelings within. I resorted to silence, not trusting myself to speak for a mont. He smiled faintly and leaned over the back of one of the plush chairs.
“So, we move onto the teaching portion of our discussion. What do you understand about your boon of fae speech?” I gawked at him as he bluntly stated the secret I had never spoken.
“Please, it’s no surprise to that’s the benefit you received from gaining a na. It’s a classic Artossian boon. It’s the sa as mine. It’s rare to have two of us with it at the sa ti, though.” He grinned, and I knew it was the truth. Perhaps that explained part of the ease I felt around him.
“So this is not so secret?”
“For you, it’s a useful secret. Especially as no one would expect you to have it now. My boon, however, is hardly a secret among the powerful. Over the centuries, it becos impossible to hide it. I have so advice in delaying that for as long as possible, but before we get there, back to my first question. So, what do you know about the boon?”
“It forces to tell the truth. I can hear lies—or at least what people think are lies. I sense it’s part of ‘owning’ my na,” I replied.
“Indeed, quite a shock. I had no idea the fae could give you a na. I imagine that the Lady, who is the most human among them, may be the only one who could. It’s not how it is normally done, yet I sense your na is as solid as anyone else’s.” Pel paused. “Sorry, I got distracted. Do continue. What else do you know about how it works?”
“I can lie when it cos to songs or taphors, or like our conversation before, I can circle the point. I imagine people can lie to in the sa manner.”
“Yes, very accurate. The boon suits you; you’re wonderfully silver-tongued. That was a masterful exchange just now, full of truths concealing lies. There are so subtler elents to it, so ways to stretch the truths. I shall lend you so books from my private library on this.” He paused, looking hard at . “I do feel it’s important to remind you that a boon such as this normally only happens during your ascension to Steel, and details on it are not normally shared before then.”
“I understand my need for secrecy, but why is it so hard to find out what happens at Steel?”
“Well, two reasons. Functionally, we call them boons, but there are many who view them as curses. They introduce weakness, and Steels didn’t reach that level by sharing their flaws.” A strange expression spread across his face. He looked up and down, taking my asure. “The second is that exploring the boons leads to a truth.”
“A truth?” I felt a thrill, a sense that I was about to learn sothing of real importance.
“A question for you: why do you think the fae allow us their gifts? Tolerate us tramping through their realms and mangling their beautiful glamour?”
“Given my etings with them, I think we’re re entertainnt,” I replied. I didn’t have to think long on it.
“Ha, and you’re half right.” Pel’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. The glitter of mischief was gone. The silence stretched out between us.
“Implying I’m half wrong,” I verbally nudged him. He was looking at again, his eyes cutting into , asuring and weighing so aspect of . His next words held a heavy tone, and I could feel the power in the air ripple as he spoke.
“Taliesin, let ask you, where do you think new fae co from?”
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