Herouxville. Old Capital
Sowhere in the middle of the artisanal district
“WELL, VAIRA?” Ignia asked impatiently. “What’s going on?”
The young fayret wasn’t known for her restraint. And that wasn’t surprising: her elent was fire. Besides, the event they were all waiting for promised to be one for the ages. As they spoke, a young auring was eting with the elders of the first-born in the very basent of the house on whose roof they were sitting.
Vaira frowned and waved impatiently at the anxious fayret to shut her up; she was trying hard to listen through the ventilation tubes for things only her sharp hearing could pick up. Vaira was an efirel, a clan of first-born whose abilities involved summoning wind. True, this clan had lost all but the faintest shadow of its forr power. Once upon a ti, according to legend, the ancient efirel were able to create massive tornadoes. These days, however, they were limited to performing simple tricks like the one Vaira was working on at the mont.
“Summon your patience, Ignia,” said Selina quietly. “Let them concentrate.”
The fayret glanced irritatedly at the lunari, whose skin and hair were shimring faintly in the moonlight. This descendant of the Master of Dreams and the Summoner of Tides just glanced back at Ignia with her wide, kind eyes, seemingly not annoyed in the least. She knew how to calm her friend down. Vaira, however, knew exactly how to ignite a fire in the fayret’s heart.
“They’re there,” the efirel finally said. “The auring and his nisse are there too.”
“They say she’s really powerful.” Ignia couldn’t help herself from comnting.
“Our elder said the auring is pretty generous in sharing his power with his nisse,” Selina replied quietly
The three friends let out a simultaneous, wistful sigh. They’d been hearing about the ancient aurings, who disappeared when the Shadow ca into their world, since early childhood. But they never would have expected those fairy tales to co to life. The nisse had obviously undergone a Transformation ritual, and had access to the sa powers that her ancient ancestors once possessed.
“They just greeted each other,” said Vaira, who was still eavesdropping. “Old Hardwick is grumpy, as always.”
“Brownie,” Ignia snorted, shaking her head. “That old fart’s mind is long gone.”
“ Elder Hartal and Elder Silfen are calm,” continued Vaira.
Ignia let out a sigh of relief, followed by Selina. Unlike the cantankerous old brownie, the matagot Hartal and the dreamling Silfen were more moderate.
“Who does he think he is anyway?” Ignia grumbled to herself. “HE’S the one who summoned the auring to this eting. What if the guy just walks out? None of our societies’ plans and hopes will work out at all. Who the hell sent this old idiot to this eting?”
“Enough!” Vaira whipped around excitedly, tearing her ear from the tube and staring at her friends with a spellbound expression.
“What is it?”
“What happened?”
The fayret and the lunari leaned in.
“I wish you could hear how the nisse just laid into the old fart!” Vaira began excitedly. “Believe it or not, he actually shut up!”
“Old Hardwick?” Ignia and Selina asked almost in unison as they exchanged bewildered glances.
“Oh, Mother Moon!” Selina sighed. “How much power must this nisse have?”
Ignia, anwhile, was just beaming and rubbing her hands together excitedly. Little sparks burst out between her fingers.
“Finally, sobody put the old bastard in his place! Keep listening...”
Vaira put her ear back to the tube; a little while later, she said:
“The auring asked why they wanted to et. The old folks started explaining. They told him about the witch covens and the packs of shapeshifters. And how our societies are being pushed out of our territories, which have always belonged to the first-born. They also ntioned the priests. The sacrifices, and the fact that young first-born have nowhere to go anymore.”
Ignia clenched her fists as she felt a fire begin to burn in her chest. They were right. The first-born were losing their forr influence. Humans with Shadow magic and a younger generation of true gifted were gathering strength. Many within their society felt that the auring’s appearance was more than just a coincidence.
“The auring asked why the elders think any of this is his concern,” Vaira continued.
“That’s fair,” said Selina with a quiet sigh.
At first, Ignia glanced at her friend with outrage, but a mont later she had to admit that she was right.
“Elder Silfen started talking about the rchants’ district where the auring bought up a lot of old buildings,” said Vaira. “She put the council of elders’ proposal to him.”
“What are they proposing?” Ignia asked, inching closer to the tube. She was hanging on her friend’s every word, afraid of missing sothing important.
Vaira spent a short while taking in the sounds, which only she could hear; then, tearing herself away from the tube, she announced in a tired voice:
“The elders are asking the auring for permission to move to the rchants’ district. That’s how they hope to resolve the threat from the covens. They’re trying to convince the auring that the witches would never think of harming us on his lands.”
“What does he say?” Ignia asked imdiately.
“He just laughed,” said Vaira sadly. “He said he doesn’t see the point of getting into a dispute with the covens because of so first-borns he’s never heard of.”
“He’s just negotiating,” said Selina quietly. Her friends turned to face her. “He doesn’t see what’s in it for him.”
Ignia, the most hotheaded and restless of the three friends, started pacing back and forth across the roof. After all, the auring had a point... What could their society offer him? Other than problems with the witches and other true gifted?
Finally, the fayret stopped and looked at the efirel, who was still sitting with her ear pressed up against the ventilation tube. Judging by her pale cheeks, Vaira had lost a lot of strength.
She understood this by looking at the impatient looks on her friends faces, and said:
“I’m gonna sit for a little while. Get a bit of rest. Then I’ll listen so more.”
“No point,” said Ignia dismissively. “I think everything’s pretty clear already. Those old farts are never going to be willing to serve the auring. They want to live just like they did in old tis, without losing power over their societies.”
“What do you have in mind, then?” Selina asked imdiately. The lunari’s questions were always penetrating.
“I don’t want to live like we did in old tis,” said Ignia firmly as she clenched her fists. “I need power! I don’t want to spend the rest of my life guarding so fisherman’s hearth or maintaining the fire in so smithy, like my father did!”
“But — “ Selina tried to object, but Ignia didn’t let her.
“Your ancestors, the ancient lunari, could control the ebb and flow of the ocean itself!” Ignia was looking firmly into her slightly-flabbergasted friend’s eyes. “They were powerful dreamriders! The only thing you get called out for now is to help make a newborn go back to sleep... And that’s on a good day... You’re being forgotten, just like us. We’re getting weaker with every passing decade. The younger true gifted, by contrast, are only getting stronger. Mortals are eagerly sharing their energy with them. While your ancestors...”
The young fayret turned to look at Vaira, who was listening to her intently.
“The tale of the two efirel sisters says that they could destroy mountains with their tornadoes! And the founder of my line could bring volcanoes to life! Where did all that power go?”
Ignia looked expectantly at the pensive expressions on her friends’ faces, then said continued in a decisive tone:
“That nisse down there — she’s the first one to Transform in several centuries! If all these brownies, matagot, and dreamlings are afraid to stick their necks out, if they enjoy their gray, pointless lives — I don’t give a shit! The first-born are saving themselves from witches. Just think about that! We, whose ancestors were the most powerful spirits and incarnations of True Power, are having to flee from the young, and from those who got all their power from the Shadow!”
Ignia’s chest was heaving as she spoke. Her eyes were afire, and her palms were wreathed in a fiery haze.
“I don’t give a shit about what the elders want,” she said. Her tone was surprisingly calm. “I’ve already decided.”
“What about your society?” Selina asked. For the first ti, doubt flashed across Selina’s eyes. Ignia’s words had clearly made an impression on the young lunari.
“I’m going to have to leave them sooner or later anyway,” Ignia shrugged.
Vaira didn’t say anything. She just stood up silently and listened to the tube again. A little while later, she stepped away and looked over at her friends:
“The auring and his nisse are gone. They ca to an agreent. The societies are moving to the rchants’ district. But he’ll only help us in cases of outright aggression. In exchange, the elders have promised to keep an eye on construction and order in the district. But that’s not the main thing...”
“What happened?” Ignia leaned in as she asked this.
“The auring’s going to war,” replied Vaira. “The king has given him land next to the Shadow.”
Ignia smiled; her chin perked up slightly.
“Sisters — this is our chance. Are you with ?”
Vaira and Selina exchanged a glance, then looked over at the fayret, whose eyes shone with decisiveness.
“Yes!” They shouted in unison.
* * *
Herouxville. New Capital
The Duke de Gondy’s palace
“Robert the Brilliant and the Goddess Ainora Goldenhair!” The majordomo announced the couple who were frozen on the threshold of the duke’s enormous ballroom, which was filled to the brim with people in masks and carnival costus.
Blanca de Gondy had warned right away in her first letter that the ball would require a costu. So I had plenty of ti to get ready and place orders with my tailor and my jeweler.
I chose to co as Eswain: Shadow Master and Lord of Mysteries, the local god of trickery, deceit, and illusion, who had stolen a bag containing Stones of Wisdom from the Forefather. The agile little god was famous for his ability to change his outward shape and appearance, and also to confuse and befuddle humans and gods alike.
People turned to Eswain, the Lord of Mysteries, when they hoped to co to grips with the mysterious, illusory things in life, or when they wanted to trick other people. He often upset the balance among the gods with his pranks and intrigues, which made him one of the least predictable and dependable of the gods. But despite his cunning, Eswain the Shadow Master was also known for his fickleness and susceptibility to temptations.
My costu was dark blue, with silver inserts, and it also had so bright-lilac details for effect. Jean-Claude, my tailor, told that this would emphasize the cunning and two-faced character of the god Eswain.
The costu was further accentuated by tall boots of soft black leather, a wide-brimd hat with a light lilac-colored feather, and a big cloak decorated with mystical runic symbols and embroidered with silver thread and gemstones.
My jeweler had made a mask with a crafty smile and villainous eyes. Besides a sword, I had also brought my snake dagger along with . I figured it might co in handy that day.
“The Bastard Sword!” The majordomo shouted, and into the hall walked a short young man in a dark suit, tall boots, and a tricornered hat, with a bastard sword strapped to his back. He had a wry, insolent smile on his face. Basically, this was an exact copy of the suit I was wearing during the Sword Dance at the Duchess du Bellay’s reception.
I chuckled and shook my head. This was already the fifth or sixth “Bastard Sword” the majordomo had announced, just in the ti I was standing in line waiting for my own turn. Actually, among the several dozen “gods and heroes” in line behind , I noticed at least four more young people in the exact sa costu.
The Duke de Bauffremont wasn’t exaggerating when he said that I was becoming extrely popular in the capital. To be honest, I didn’t really know how to react to it all.
The line was moving pretty quickly, and finally, after the majordomo announced , I found myself inside the massive ballroom. The profusion of bright paint, gemstones, and gold flashing into my eyes was so intense that it temporarily blurred my vision.
A passing footman offered a glass of sparkling wine from the tray in his hands. After scanning it for suspicious additives as was my habit, I took a small sip and headed for the far wall of the ballroom.
Judging by the fact that nobody ca rushing up to greet , the de Gramonts appeared not to have arrived yet.
Valeria and I had already inford each other which costus we would be wearing before the ball. Recent events had my sister on edge. She was the first to let know that my uncle was planning to announce my betrothal to the de Marbot girl at this ball. Valerie obviously sensed that there was sothing up my sleeve as well. I had to send her a secret ssage, assuring her that everything was fine, and asking her not to attempt anything of her own.
After my sister’s first letter, ssages of warning began to rain down on as if from so sort of malevolent cornucopia. They were all from the Duchess du Bellay. Basically, it turned out that Heinrich de Gramont had not only decided to marry off, but was also cooking up so other kind of evil that would have an effect on my fate. Apparently, Émile de Marbot was to put the nefarious plan into action.
Also — the Duke de Bauffremont was right. Nobody in the capital knew about my new title yet. And it didn’t seem like my “patron” was planning to communicate anything to my uncle, either. Most likely, he simply didn’t consider the news to be significant or noteworthy in any way.
My aunt begged not to be a hero, and to just leave the capital for a little while. She promised that she would look after my castle. These earnest, genuine promises were heartwarming, but nothing else. The Duchess du Bellay couldn’t even keep a handle on her own affairs. She should have gotten rid of her estate’s manager long ago. Besides, the Duchess didn’t even suspect that the Fox Den was already very well guarded. I wouldn’t envy anyone who attempted to try their luck and break into the nisse’s domain. Most likely, she would devour any such person, guts and all.
At least, that’s what she said at the eting with the first-born elders. She completely dazzled the old brownie, who had originally been confident he could get under his thumb pretty quickly.
Actually, though, my negotiations with the first-born ended pretty well. The witches, shapeshifters, and priests seed to be pushing them out of their old hos. So they asked for permission to move into my new neighborhood, but not on the sa terms as the nisse; they were more analogous to renters, whose rent would be rendered in the form of keeping an eye on all the construction I was undertaking in the old rchants’ district. If there were problems, they’d inform the nisse, and Itta would inform Bertrand, who would remain behind in Herouxville.
We didn’t even ntion the fact that they all considered to be an auring. I figured that would co later.
Besides, the nisse and I had already talked about that. Basically, I figured the reason she wasn’t in a hurry was because she didn’t want to share with the other first-born. Although at the sa ti, it didn’t seem like things were quite that simple. But I decided not to press the issue for the ti being. The ti would co, and then we’d talk again. I could be patient. Especially since I had plenty to deal with at the mont, even without that. Before my departure, I was going to have to decide what to do about my insufferable old uncle.
What I hadn’t been expecting amidst all this was a letter from Aurélie de Marbot. Through her trusted servant, the viscountess warned that her maniac brother was determined to get rid of as soon as we got married. Aurélie, just like my aunt, asked to leave the capital before it was too late.
“Émile de Marbot is truly a monster, Your Worship,” the viscountess’ maid warned on that day.
“That seems to be all I’m good for lately — dealing with monsters,” I replied. “So one more or less doesn’t really matter. Please tell that to your mistress. But also, tell her I’m impressed by her bravery and that I’m grateful to her.”
Suddenly, a woman’s voice to my right tore out of my contemplations.
“So... The Lord of Mysteries. Do you recognize ?”
I turned around. Next to stood a short, black-haired young woman in a shining golden dress. Despite her radiant golden mask, decorated with small butterflies and gemstones, I recognized Blanca de Gondy imdiately.
“Of course, my goddess!” I replied with a low bow. “She whose beauty never fades. She who knows the heights of all feelings and who can stir even the coldest heart to love. Born from the lovestruck glances of two stars, the goddess of love, Alirel.”
The marchioness slowly walked over to ; then, keeping her face covered with her elegant fan so that only I could see and hear her, she said in a beguiling whisper:
“How did you recognize , though?”
Blanca’s question was a pretext. I took another step forward myself, bent down to whisper into her ear, took a quiet breath in through my nose, and then spoke:
“It’s your aroma, my goddess... It’s unique, and I could never confuse it with another.”
For a little while after our first eting, I thought that the Marchioness de Gondy was paying attention to as part of so design on her part. But eventually, I ca to the conclusion that she was genuinely interested in . And now, after a quick scan of her energy system, I was convinced of it. Her nervous excitent, quickened breathing, slightly-dilated pupils — it was all genuine. At the sa ti, though, I was equally certain that it wasn’t anything like true love. She saw more as so kind of exciting wild beast. Another subject for her intrigues.
Our conversation was interrupted by a loud introduction. New guests. One of them was the legendary princess-sorceress from ancient folklore, Lady Serenna. Valerie’s costu.
The de Gramonts had arrived...
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