November 1
Word Count: 3,927
Chapter 1: The Brothers Return
Saratin stood at the inner gate to the city and took a deep breath. The City of
Brothers Chau, Ilden, Sheeps, and two others were due to arrive at any moment. They would be the first of the Brothers to be invited back into the city. Brother Chau's countless letters had finally worn Saratin down. He knew he would have to come forward and tell his mentor, the closest thing he remembered to having as a father, that the answers to the brothers’ prayers were not at hand. They were not about to be delivered back into that rich and abundant life they had once lived. Dedicated to masonry, scholarship, and service, the brothers would not soon be called back to fulfill their obligations as scribes and messengers of The Great Mages.
The only one who truly remembered life before the fall of magic was Sheeps, an ancient man whose beard was as white and wooly as his namesake. Brother Chau had not been able to convince the frail brother that the journey to Tamarin was too arduous for him. Instead Sheeps seemed to lose 20 years off his age as he regaled them with tales of the Tamarin he lived in as a boy.
Saratin had to tell Brother Chau that he had no clue as to how to bring about the world as it was before magic; that in fact the old Great Mages were long dead and gone, and the new ones had no idea and for the most part no inclination to learn how to use their newfound abilities. It would not be easy for Saratin to announce that he was in fact a failure.
There had been some progress in the six months since the seven had walked through the doorway, unsure and hesitant, but it seemed miniscule compared to the mountains of trouble that kept creeping out of the woodwork. The more the news spread of the Great Mages, the more people began to flock to the city crying for miracles.
Saratin thumped his head against a column. Life was a mess. And it was getting messier by the day.
The sound of hooves clopped on the cobblestones through the tunnel. Saratin didn’t doubt that it was the party he was waiting for. The city strangely refused to admit anyone who wasn’t invited. Those without permission found themselves entering the tunnel and without turning, exiting through the same end. Saratin straightened up and mussed with the cassock Mitty had so obligingly sewed for him. It was a bit more fitted than he was used to, having spent most of his life in the rather “one size fits all” robes of Ladona, whose tailors were not so interested in the brother’s appearance, but in their functionality of the garment. It was also white, the color of a Great Mage.
Lasser emerged from the tunnel followed by a wagon pulled by a tired looking pair of horses. Saratin studied Lasser for a moment. He looked weary and somewhat relieved. He was probably quite eager to deliver his charges and disappear back into the forest after a hot meal and a bath. Lasser never spent long in the city if he could help it. He was constantly finding excuses to survey the surrounding forests. Saratin had thought that asking Lasser to provide an escort for the last leg of the brothers’ trip would give him an excuse to be out of the city. Lasser had readily agreed, packed a few supplies, slung his bow on his back, and headed out. He must have changed his mind.
“You owe me one, Saratin.” Lasser said quietly as he calmly walked past and into the city proper. He did not look back at his former charges. Saratin however, turned his head and looked into the wagon. Five eager faces crowded out and stared at everything and anything at once.
“Oh, look at that column.”
“Yes, yes, it’s all here!”
“Did you see that tunnel? It was dark!”
“Forgive me Brother Sheeps, but you’re sitting on my hand.”
“We’re going to see them! We’re going to see them.”
Saratin tried to filter out their cries of astonishment and stepped out of the way of the wagon, as they continued past him. When they continued down the road, apparently oblivious to his presence, Saratin ran after them.
“Brothers!” he shouted. Two faces peered back at him from the front of the wagon.
“Apprentice Saratin! How nice of you to greet us,” Brother Chau called. “Stop the wagon! No, pull on the reins, don’t shake them. That means run.” The wagon stopped. The horses probably had no intention of running anywhere.
Brother Chau scrambled down from the wagon and walked briskly toward Saratin with open arms. They embraced in a bear hug that knocked them slightly off kilter and practically squeezed the life out of Saratin as he held the man that was the closest thing he’d ever known to a father. He found himself fighting back tears knowing what must come.
Suddenly Saratin was surrounded by a horde or three other brothers, all trying to warmly shake his hand, and pat him on the back. He broke his hug with Brother Chau and smiled at the brothers who surrounded him.
“Welcome to Tamarin.” Saratin managed to say. Brother Ilden was bouncing up and down like an eager child, which was somewhat miraculous. Saratin had never seen Brother Ilden eager over anything. He usually sat at the edge of the crowd, trying to contradict popular opinion.
Brothers Pogle and Ettu were less restrained than Ilden. Once finished with their greeting, they turned to each other and began to enthusiastically comment on every tiny facet of the city, including the tiny wisps of bright green grass that grew between the white stones in the road.
“What about me? You lazy louts! Come fetch me down!” Brother Sheeps, too ancient to crawl out of the wagon unaided, had been left behind on the front seat. Brothers Pogle and Ettu jumped at his shout and ran forward offering their apologies to the elder brother.
“Wait!” Saratin followed after them. “We have quite a walk ahead, and Brother Sheeps may prefer to ride.” The two brothers turned and stared after him, for a moment a reflection of opposites. Brother Pogle was rather short and round with a large shiny bald spot at the top of his head. Brother Ettu seemed rather gangly at the moment, even though Saratin knew that the man was utter grace in his infirmary. Brother Chau had said less than a year ago that Brother Ettu was the best healer they had ever had at Ladona. He’d probably been brought along to care for Brother Sheeps.
“Please Brother Saratin,” Brother Chau said happily, “lead us into the city proper.”
“With pleasure.” Saratin said. Bad news could wait. It hardly seemed fair to dampen their enthusiasm when they had barely had a taste of it. Saratin know understood why Lasser had been so eager to get away. So much happiness was wearing on the nerves if you didn’t feel it yourself. It was slightly infectious though, and Saratin hoped the Brothers could bring a new sense of purpose to the seven who were for the most part at a loss of what to do in a city all by themselves.
Brothers Ettu and Pogle climbed back into the wagon next to Sheeps. The three of them crowded into the seat made to comfortably sit two. Brother Chau chose to walk beside Saratin as they entered the city. Brother Ilden brought up the rear.
Tamarin had once been named The White City and for a good reason. The structures, the roads, and walkways were all carved from blocks of white stone, some polished to shine and reflect the sun, and others were intricately carved. The city saw no wear of time. The enchantments surrounding it were strong and growing stronger by the day. It had been bright the day the seven had stepped awestruck through the inner gate, and now it was brilliant. When the sun set behind the tallest roof, the whole city glowed happily in the rosy twilight. The flowers on the bushes never faded. They bloomed bright every morning, lightly scenting the air with patches of lilac and rose. At night, they closed up to sleep in the light breeze.
Tamarin was bathed in eternal spring. The plants seemed to need no rain and therefore it did not rain. There was, Saratin had noticed, a slight early morning mist that fell lightly, but by the time the sun was barely over the horizon, it was gone, leaving the air clear and crisp.
Whatever spells or magic the Great Mages had laid down, were still present here and Saratin’s only hope, was that the key to tapping their power lay undiscovered somewhere on the grounds.
“There’s no one here,” Brother Sheeps began. “When I was a boy, there were thousands! Thousands! I used to climb that tree over there to spy on Brother Lamoo. He was Master Pacell’s chief brother. Brother Lamoo loved to sit in the courtyard and practice his speeches. Oh, he made the most funniest of faces when he thought no one was watching him. One time, I laughed so hard that I fell out of the tree and broke my arm. That was back when a simple spell could fix a boy up right… not those plaster casts and leeches you’re so fond of.” Sheeps poked Brother Ettu in the arm.
“I don’t use leeches for a broken arm. I save them for old men who poke their physicians,” Brother Ettu replied. The company laughed heartily as Sheeps scooted closer to Brother Pogle, who was already a bit crowded on the seat.
“Move over. Move over. I don’t even think he brought his leeches on this trip.” Pogle nudged Sheeps back in the other direction.
“I did too.”
“Why? You won’t need them. The nasty little buggers may go back into the streams now. We should have set them free at that last brook we crossed.”
“Brother Pogle, did you ever consider the fact that the Mages may be too busy to worry about insignificant healings. They have an entire world to put back together. I may have some use for my leeches yet.”
“Not on me you won’t.”
“Oh look! And there’s the entrance to the Circle of Mages. The investment ceremony for the highest brothers were held there. Oh, it was always a glorious party when the brothers were handed their new vestments and symbols of their office. I remember when old Brother Greesne retired and Brother Trelvant took over. Now that was a celebration. The fireworks lasted for three hours. Oh, we shall see lots of fireworks! The mages will have to choose their new staffs soon.”
Saratin let Sheeps rattle on. He’d heard all the stories countless times after evening mealtime when the Brothers took turns telling tales. Sheeps always spent his time describing the wonders of Tamarin.
“I may be in retirement, but Master Hilta will need an expert who knows how she wants things run. I was only an apprentice, but I’m the most experienced one here.” Sheeps chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “There was nothing so glorious as watching the Twelve in ceremony together dressed in white, their head of staffs behind in black, their staffs behind them in their different colors, with the apprentices behind them in brown. Since the fall of magic, it’s just been brown, brown, brown. I’m quite tired of it, actually.”
“Brother Sheeps, we do not wear our clothing to be vain,” Brother Chau began. “We wear it because we…” Saratin tried not to grimace as Brother Chau’s gaze became fixated on Saratin’s white cassock.
“The boy’s in white!” Sheeps shouted, stating the rather obvious fact that everyone was now staring at. “That borders on blasphemy boy. I would have had my ears boxed by now. You’d better change before anyone sees you.”
“Things have changed.” Saratin warned.
“Well, now that we’re here they can be changing back. Now if you didn’t know any better, that’s one thing… but only Great Mages wear white. So no matter how fetching you think you look, it won’t be tolerated.”
“Perhaps Brother Chau, your apprentice has gotten a little too big in the head,” Ilden stated quietly from the back. Finally he was exerting more of his traditional cynical characteristics.
“I know that you are all tired from your journey. We’re almost at your quarters. I hope you will find them comfortable.” Saratin said. He knew he was stalling, but dashing their hopes in the middle of the street did not seem quite right
Tamarin was laid out in a circular fashion with the former Great Mages suites and offices located in the center ring with the Hall of Memories being in the direct center of the city. The extensive staff of Brothers had once occupied the second ring. There were smaller bubbles set within the rings which Saratin assumed were smaller divisions of brother who provided services. Ladona and the bookmakers had probably once been the focus of one of the smaller bubbles.
Saratin motioned for the wagon to stop, and Brothers Pogle and Ettu helped Sheeps down from the wagon. Once on his own two feet he shooed the well meaning brothers away. Saratin turned into the corridor where he’d decided to place them. It was in the center ring of the city. The center ring had originally been designed to hold twelve mages and their staff offices. Now with only on average 4 people in the city, it seemed a huge space.
“We can’t go there. Those are the Great Mages Quarters. We cannot enter without an invitation!” Sheeps looked at Saratin as if he were mad.
“You have an invitation,” Saratin stated. “You’ll be staying there for the time being.”
“Oh, no, no, no, that’ll never do. We need to go this way.” Sheeps started hobbling widely in the other direction.
“But everything is prepared over here.” Saratin pointed back towards the rooms he had made up. Sheeps did not change direction or speed. Brothers Pogle and Ettu hurried after him.
“But,” Saratin stammered. Brother Chau just gave him a shrug and followed after Sheeps. Brother Ilden gave a sly smile and followed Brother Chau, obviously glad the apprentice was finally getting a bit of comeuppance. Saratin sighed and followed after them. Sheeps continued until he reached a set of green double doors.
“Master Hilda won’t mind if we stay in her general staff quarters.” Sheeps said as he swung the door open. A green carpet led up to an empty desk that was surrounded by well trained ivy. It grew only where space wasn’t needed for other things. A series of cubby holes sat behind the desk, obviously a former message center for the complex.
“Visitors quarters are on the left.” Sheeps stated as he approached the desk and turned sharply down the corridor. He opened the door to the third room on the left. “I think it’s definitely time for a nap. Wake me for dinner.” He shut the door behind him.
“Really now.” Pogle stated then followed Sheeps lead and opened a second door off the hallway. He peered in. It was bare, except for a cot along the left side, and a small table and washbasin with a jug of water waiting. Pogle yawned.
“Oh, a real bed. Definitely nap time. I didn’t realize how tired I was.” Saratin stared into the room, know that he shouldn’t be amazed to see that even after several decades, the room was perfectly clean, free of dust, and had fresh water waiting its tired guests. The other brothers chose rooms and entered them.
“Yes, I believe these rooms will do, Saratin. It was gracious of you to try and arrange better, but we are used to the simple life, remember.” Brother Chau stated, glancing once more at Saratin’s white robes. He obviously also thought that Saratin had become a bit vain with all the attention the Great Mages were obviously showing him. Saratin bit his tongue for a moment before replying.
“Dinner is at 7 o’clock in the great hall. You have an invitation, that won’t be a problem, will it.”
“It will be a delight,” Brother Chau smiled and turned into his own room. The door shut behind him, leaving Saratin alone in the hallway. He raised his hand to knock on Brother Chau’s door, knowing that he had to tell him before dinner and the introduction to the rest of the Great Mages, but then lowered it again. Brother Chau would react better if he had a little sleep first. Saratin headed back to the rooms he had claimed as his own, the ones that had once belonged to Master Geoi.
Saratin sat in his new favorite piece of furniture, a horribly overstuffed chair that nearly swallowed him up and allowed for no dignified way of standing up. He stared at the two books which had become central to the problems he was now facing. The one that unlocked the power of the Great Mages in the forest, and the one he’d found stashed on a top shelf in the Ladona Monastery crypt. Despite all efforts to the contrary, he could not get the latter one to stop laughing. Sure, sometimes it was only a snicker. Right now it was laughing so hard that it was wheezing in and out breaths between loud guffaws. It also didn’t help Saratin’s peace of mind that he was the only one who could hear it. Not even the other Great Mages could so much as touch it. Malek had nearly sliced it open when it tried to shut on his hand.
“Would you mind being quiet for a minute. I’m trying to think.” The book was quiet for a minute before it’s attempts to stifle itself erupted into a prolonged case of the giggles.
Saratin pushed himself ungracefully out of the chair and walked over to the book which lay on his desk. “You could try helping once in a while. I think you can. You did before.” The book had given him the information he’d asked for when Nelyr had taken Iber’s powers and left him a mindless body. But since entering the city, further attempts to ask for information tended to yield unproductive results. The book was very fond of the pickle page, which it showed Saratin at least once a week. He knew it was about time to stop looking for the answers in the book. Saratin used to be able to find all of the answers to his questions in books. Lately, with only two books to choose from, one which he could not yet read, and one which chortled. Saratin was getting discouraged with the print medium.
“I just wish there was someone here to explain how things worked. Master Geoi should have thought about the problems were would face and planned ahead, rather than leaving us defenseless with no one to teach us!” Frustrated, Saratin grabbed the book and opened it in the middle, slamming the cover down onto the desk. He placed his hand down on the page and watched as the text performed its normal routine of swimming about the page before it came into focus. “If you show me pickles, I’ll throw you out the window!”
Saratin stared at the page for a moment before realizing that the text wasn’t the only thing madly dashing around in front of his vision, his hand was swirling as well, bending and shaping itself at will. The swirling moved quickly up his arm and suddenly Saratin’s entire body was tingling. His closed his eyes, and prayed for it to stop before he lost his stomach entirely.
Just as suddenly as the swirling had started it stopped. Saratin opened his eyes staring at an old man, sitting underneath tree. He looked around, seeing nothing but a flat plane of grass that stretched in all directions as far as the horizon. The only tree was the one the man was sitting under. He was dressed in a white robe and eating a very red apple. He was elderly, but not ancient, and although his hair and beard were fully white, there was something young about his movements and his smile.
“Are you Master Geoi?” Saratin asked finally realizing that the book had finally shown him something that might help.
“Yes.” He took another loud bite of the apple. Without bothering to swallow he spoke again. “And no.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Saratin crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe the book was playing another game with him.
“Exactly that. Yes and no.”
“Explain.”
“Well, technically I’m not Geoi, I’m Saratin. I’m you, but then I’m not. But I am. I’m a construction of you, which is Geoi. The part of you which is Geoi, but still you. Understand?”
“It would help if you weren’t talking with your mouth full.”
“You were born at the right moment for the Great Mages powers to install themselves in you. So while you are still and have always been you, Saratin, you are and have always been me, Geoi. And I’m that part.”
“So where are we?” Saratin glanced around at the strange landscape.
“In your mind. Technically you’re talking to yourself.”
“And this is going to be helpful?”
“Depends on if you ask the right questions.”
“What are the right questions?”
“How should I know?”
“So asking for the right questions in a wrong question.” Saratin pondered.
“And who said there was such a thing as a wrong question?” He took another bite of the apple.
“This is confusing,” Saratin said, plopping down into the grass.
Geoi shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not my fault. I’m just doing what you tell me to do.”
“Then teach me something.”
“Teach you what?”
“I don’t know, something useful. Teach me how to travel in the blink of an eye.”
“That’s easy.” Geoi tossed the apple core into the grass and stood up. Saratin followed him. “To travel, one must simply be able to hold his destination in mind perfectly, and want to travel there.”
“And it just works?”
“It only works if you believe it will. That’s the natural beauty of magic.”
“Okay. Someplace simple to start. How about the Great Hall?” Geoi shrugged again. Saratin closed his eyes and visualized his destination. The banners that hung in the high rafters, the fireplace big enough to roast two complete cows, the huge dais with twelve empty chairs; none of his companions had had the desire to climb up the steps and eat regally overlooking the entire hall. With his eyes closed, Saratin even began to smell the smoke that emitted from the fire which seemed ridiculously small on the oversized hearth. He could hear Lynah whining about her latest rant worthy subjects. He definitely heard Lynah’s scream.
Malek