November 3
Word Count: 3,854
“I don't see anything wrong with being polite," Iber stated defensively.
"Except your politeness only extends to Lynah," Trevelyn complained as she handed the huge turkey tray. She picked up the carving knife and shook it as she lectured him. "She needs to get used to not getting so much attention. Otherwise, she will drive us all crazy."
"I think she's already driven you crazy. You spend the most time with her."
"Yes, but I have to. We can't leave her alone, or who knows what she'll do. Hopefully more people around here will be helpful."
"I don't know, the brothers aren't known as exciting company."
"Anything will be better than just the four of us. Saratin spends most of his time trying to read the books, Lasser spends his in the forest, and I have no idea where you keep disapearing off to."
"I have... hobbies of my own. This is getting heavy," Iber complained.
"Then take it out to the hall, and if you complain about the distance, it's because Lynah chose the table, not me." Trevelyn placed the carving knife on the turkey tray and shoved him towards the door. She grabbed two of the bowls and followed.
As she turned back to the kitchen, Trevelyn heard Lynah say in her best princess voice, "Welcome Brothers. Welcome to Tamarin. We are pleased to greet you. Have a seat and dine with us tonight.
The brothers clustered at the entrance, looking wide eyed and slightly intimidated by the size of the hall. Trevelyn now understood the reason Lynah had chosen the middle table. The brothers were forced to enter, and walk the long length to the table making them feel small and inconsequential in the space, a space which Lynah's regal air commanded and owned.
They shuffled forward as a group, only one of them managed to maintain a dignified stature. He was obviously the leader. Lynah also recognized this. She spoke to him.
"I am Princess Lynah of Galadin. This is Sir Iber Menymus, and this is my handmaiden Trevelyn." Iber bowed slightly as his name was called, and Trevelyn found herself in an automatic curtsy.
"I am Brother Chau of Ladona, this is Sheeps, a former apprentice of Tamarin, Ilden, my second in command, Ettu, our healer and Pogle a very worthy brother. We are glad to accept your gracious invitation." Brother Chau looked around expectantly.
"Saratin and Lasser will be here shortly. You've met them both of course."
"Yes. And where are..."
Trevelyn interrupted, "Brothers Pogle, and Ilden, I would so very much appreciate your kindness and help in the kitchen."
Both Brothers graciously nodded and followed her into the kitchen. Brother Pogle could not contain himself.
"And the Great Mages? Will they be eating with us? Will we get to meet them tonight?"
"Obviously not, Pogle," Ilden scolded. "Did you not see? There are only 10 places set. Five of us, and five of them. If the Great Mages were dining with us, there would be twenty two places. There are twelve Great Mages." Ilden picked up a tray and continued his scoff out into the hall. Pogle's shoulders slumped as he followed suit.
Trevelyn now understood why Saratin had been procrastinating about telling the truth. It was obviously not a truth that the Brothers would want to hear. As Trevelyn exited the kitchen she saw that Saratin and Lasser had entered the hall. Sheeps was staring unfavorably at Saratin’s white robe, and Saratin looked quite uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Brother Chau laid a calming hand on Sheeps arm and beckoned him to sit down.
Without much further speech the group settled themselves, the five brothers on one side of the table, and the young mages on the other. Lynah sat herself in the middle of the table while Lasser took the seat the closest to the door. Trevelyn found herself at the other end of the table seated next to Saratin, who still shifted back and forth.
Just as Iber reached for the first bowl, the brothers clasped their hands to their heart and bowed their heads. Saratin followed suite as if by habit. The others managed to fake it.
“By the grace of the Great Mages we are truly thankful to be well, sound of mind and strong of spirit,” Brother Chau stated grandly. The brothers nodded their head slowly in unison before raising them. “What a wonderful feast is here provided,” Brother Chau commented as he reached for a bread roll. The others followed suit and dishes were passed about until all had their fill. Iber kindly took care of carving the turkey which steamed as the knife sliced through the skin. The brothers, not used to such food, especially after their long journey to Tamarin full of trail provisions and campfire rations heartily heaped their plates, not caring if their eyes were slightly bigger than their current stomachs.
“May I ask, Your Highness,” Brother Ilden began once everyone was eating, “how someone such as yourself has come to visit the Great Mages and the White City of Tamarin?”
“Well,” Lynah said with a flourish, “I flew here on the back of a Great Dragon in order to rescue my handmaiden from a very evil man. It was quite an adventure. My hair was quite knotted from the wind.”
Trevelyn noted that Lynah forgot to mention that she was partly responsible for Trevelyn’s need for being rescued. Magically switching places with the princess and being forced to choose a royal husband had forced Trevelyn to accept the strange mage Nelyr’s offer to help switch them back.
“And you, Sir Iber,” Ettu said, “I am glad to see that you were well. You were definitely beyond my skills as a healer the last time we met.”
“Thank you brother, I have been quite well.” Iber stated diplomatically.
“Was it Nelyr that cured you?” Ettu asked. Iber glanced sideways at Saratin as if to ask how to field the question.
“Nelyr?” Lynah scoffed. “Nelyr is a decrepit old windbag who has hopefully disappeared for good!”
A collective gasp filtered through the brothers. Brother Pogle stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and gaped in astonishment.
“I don’t believe that is an appropriate way to speak of a Great Mage,” Ettu insisted.
“I don’t care if he’s a Great Mage or not, the man tried to kill us. He’s a rotten, old hermit,” Lynah stated.
“And if she speaks of Nelyr in this manner, how does she speak of Master Geoi?” Ilden added. Trevelyn saw Saratin tightening up, trying how to best avert the disaster that was coming. Before he could manage a reply, Lynah made things worse.”
“Geoi is dead, isn’t he Saratin. You said so this afternoon.” Saratin shut his eyes tight and squished his face up as if waiting for someone to strike him. The brothers sat dumbfounded, glancing from Saratin to Lynah and back, waiting for him to refute this ridiculous statement. Saratin sat frozen.
“Saratin.” Brother Chau prompted. Trevelyn took pity on them both.
“What Saratin has been trying to tell you, Brothers, is that things have changed.”
“Yes, he said that this afternoon. He did not mention any deaths. How many of the Great Mages are dead?” Brother Chau asked. Trevelyn decided it was time to tell things straight.
“Eleven.”
Brother Chau’s face went from ashen to an even paler shade of white.
“But there is good news.” Trevelyn added. This did not seem to console him.
“They sacrificed themselves, so their powers would survive. They transferred their powers to children being born… so that when the magic returned, they could be unleashed… and it worked. Their powers are returned to Galadin.” The brothers were still staring at her as if she had two heads. “We are those children. Five of us at least. There are only seven of us left… plus Nelyr, but Lynah was right, he tried to kill us. He is not in his right mind. The disappearing of magic left him… well, he is not well meaning anymore. So I’m not sure if he counts.”
Silence again reigned while the brothers digested this information. Finally Sheeps spoke. “So the Great Mages that I knew as a child are all dead.”
“Except for Nelyr,” Iber added, “but he’s the one that made me sick last time. He stole my powers. Actually I let him borrow them without realizing he had no intention of returning them. I would have died, if he hadn’t of accidentally given them back.”
“Accidentally?” Brother Ilden questioned.
“Perhaps that’s enough detail for tonight. There is still plenty of turkey left.” Trevelyn hoped they would eat for a bit before pelting them with more questions. Saratin still needed some recover time. He was now blushing from his head to his toes.
The brothers turned back to their plate with less than relish. Pogle suddenly looked up. “So that’s why you’re wearing white. Saratin is a Great Mage!” Ilden’s face soured and Chau’s looked at Saratin questioningly.
“Yes.” Saratin finally broke his silence. He still refused to look at the brothers. “I am a Great Mage. I am a Great Mage who has the spirit of Geoi inside him, which kind of makes me the leader.” Lynah scoffed at this, but did not say anything. Saratin continued, “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I was still getting used to the idea myself. From now on, I will wear the white robes of a Great Mage, and I will conduct the Counsel meetings. We shall begin to work together with the brothers as the Great Mages in the past.” His voice became more authoritative as he continued. “Brother Chau, I would be pleased if you would take the position as my head of staff.”
Everyone’s attention switched to Brother Chau, who was staring at Saratin as if pondering the inner workings of his head. “I would be honored Master Saratin.”
“Good. Now I believe that it is probably time for another counsel meeting. As soon as we can gather the other seven, we will meet in the counsel chambers.”
“But Saratin,” Lynah began to whine. He held up his hand silencing her and stood.
“I am quite tired. I think I shall retire. And thank you brothers for your company. It makes Tamarin feel like a home again.” With that, he disappeared. Lynah jumped, but managed not to scream. The brothers eyes widened and they looked at each other wildly.
“He used magic!” Pogle shouted. “Our own Saratin! He’s a Mage! Think of how Julic from the Osman Monastery will feel when he hears that news. He will turn pea green with envy.”
“I always new there was something special about that boy.” Ettu said gloating. Out of the corner of her eye Trevelyn saw Lasser making a sly exit. He didn’t want to be around when they started telling everyone how wonderful they were.
“Please keep in mind, brothers, that we are newly invested with our powers, and haven’t come to full strength.”
“Yes,” Sheeps said. “And you shall need our help. We shall have to call many more brothers to Tamarin. Why each of you needs a Chief of Staff, an Official Scribe, A Inner Messenger, an Outer Messenger, a Keeper of the Grounds, and well, that’s five times five, that’s twenty five right there. And there’s only five of us, so we need at least twenty more to start with.” Sheeps rattled on, using his fingers to try and count the various personages that he wished to fill the city with.
Perhaps it would be for the best, to fill the city once again with people. It was eerie now, with just the few of them occupying such a large area. As much as Trevelyn had grown tired of court life, she was now tired of living almost alone. The addition of the solemn brothers would create a good balance.
“If you are done, I would appreciate help clearing the dishes.” Trevelyn stated as she stood. Pogle and Ettu nearly fell over with their attempts to stand up so quickly.
“Oh, no, Master Trevelyn, we will be happy to clear the dishes for you. You mustn’t do it yourself,” Pogle said, stacking trays.
“I have two able hands. Thank you Brother Pogle.” She said, picking up a tray.
“But you are a Great Mage. You shouldn’t trouble yourself with such trivialities as dishes. We shall be glad to do it for you.” Ettu removed the tray from her hand. When she picked up another, he took that one as well.
“I…” Trevelyn sighed when she noticed Lynah glaring at her. She sat back down. At least there would be someone else around to carry the dishes.
One did not need to be a Great Mage to see that the people of Stordine were in awe yet slightly intrigued by their newest neighbors. That much was clear when Iber and Lasser rode into town on their horses looking for Mitty and Malek’s cottage.
“The ones with the big cat?” a villager questioned.
“Yes,” Iber replied.
“The ones with the big green cat?”
“Yes, the ones with a big green cat by the name of Pylon.”
“It’s got a name?” a townsperson asked. Iber looked over to the equally exasperated Lasser and sighed.
“Yes the cat has a name. Now do we take a left or a right at the fork at the end of town?” Iber asked. The villagers looked from one to the other, before one of them finally answered.
“A left. But Malek Adeo isn’t too fond of visitors. His wife seems pretty nice enough though. She don’t bring the cat since it ate most of Trefart’s butchery stock a few market days back.”
“Thank you!” Iber called as he spurred his horse his horse into motion. He tried not to laugh as he imagined how horrified the villagers must have been when Malek, Mitty and Pylon moved into the abandoned cottage about half a mile out of their town. Stordine had slipped into a sleepy life of farming and a small mine in the hills. Not much traffic had passed through their town since Tamarin closed itself off. With the opening of the gates, the town would be a major stopping point for visitors to the city, considering it was an easy day’s ride away. If one of the businessmen in town had any gumption, he’d get started building another inn straightaway. The only inn Stordine had was a small affair with only four rooms above the one room tavern that served as the town’s main gathering spot.
Iber and Lasser headed along the road and through the apple trees that formed the eastern border of the town. At the end of the orchard, the road split into two, and they took the left fork. Lasser chuckled to himself. When Iber threw him a questioning look, he explained.
“I was just thinking. If the villagers reacted to Pylon in that way, imagine how they’d react to Snult.” Iber and Lasser laughed aloud. Pylon was intimidating enough, but Snult would probably cause mass panic. A cat the size of a small pony was nothing to a fire breathing dragon the size of a large house.
“Speaking of Snult, where is he?” Iber asked. The dragon seemed to have developed an affinity for the ranger. They seemed to have become good friends.
“He said he would be around… whatever that means. He probably wanted to snooze in a cave somewhere. It would make me more comfortable about what we’re going to do to have Snult around.” Iber silently agreed.
“Lasser! Iber!” a female voice called from up the road. Obviously Mitty had spotted them before they had spotted the cottage. “Pylon knew we were about to have visitors.” Mitty stood in front of the little cottage and scratched Pylon’s ears with two hands.
“Hello, Mitty,” Iber said as he slid off his horse. “Hello Pylon,” he added as the big cat regarded him with the disdain only a feline could bestow.
“Please, come inside and have some tea. Malek is out looking for firewood, but he should be back shortly.”
The two followed Mitty and entered the cabin, being careful not to bump their heads on the low ceiling. Pylon pushed his way past and curled up in a large nook.
“We’re a bit tight for space,” Mitty apologized as she filled the kettle with a pitcher of water and set it on the fire.
“It’s lovely.” Iber stated. Indeed, it was cozy. The cottage had one room, with a bed on one side of the room, a fireplace and stove on the other, and a table set in the center. Iber noted the presence of only two chairs, but Mitty made due by pulling a stool out and sitting on it, leaving the two chairs for her guests. Lasser and Iber smiling sat down.
“So what brings you both out here?” Mitty asked.
“Well,” Iber stated. Lasser seemed perfectly happy to let him speak for both of them. “There are two reasons, actually. First of all, Saratin wants to have another counsel meeting.” Iber watched Mitty’s face fall. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t looking forward to another meeting either. “The other is a bit of a side trip. Lasser escorted a group of brothers to Tamarin last week, and on his way, they stopped in a small village that was having major problems with dragons.”
“Dragons?” Mitty asked. The kettle began to wheeze. She stood up. “Really.”
“So Saratin suggested that we have a duty to protect the town… and we thought that there was safety in numbers, so maybe Malek would want to go along.”
“Where would Malek want to go?” A voice from the doorway called. Malek entered with his arms full of firewood and placed them near the door. He brushed off his hands, and then crossed them defensively across his chest.
“I thought it was clear that I didn’t want to go anywhere with you,” Malek stated.
“Well, Saratin thought that if we were coming to…” Iber explained.
“I don’t care what the brother thought. I have no intention of going anywhere.” Malek interrupted. Iber had known this might be difficult, but it had sounded so reasonable when Saratin had suggested that Malek join them.
“It’s only for a day or two. We just ride to the village, kill a few dragons, and then you can come back here.”
“And why should I help you?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be helping us, exactly. You’d be helping the people of the village.” Iber thought it was a noble enough cause.
“Helping a bunch of people I don’t know, or don’t even want to know? No.”
“But…” Iber tried again.
“Of course he’ll go!” Mitty stated happily as she pulled out cups for tea.
“I’ll what?”
“They need your help, so you’re going to help them.” She carefully poured the water into the teapot.
“Mitty,” Malek warned.
“Besides, Pylon needs the exercise.” Upon hearing his name the big cat perked up his head before lazily stretching back down onto the floor. Mitty opened the cupboard. “And I need to test out my new fabric, and this is the perfect opportunity.”
“Mitty,” Malek warned her again. She turned to stare at him.
“He’s going.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Outside, now,” she said sternly, putting the cloth down on the table before pushing him stubbornly out the door. She followed and closed the door behind her.
Lasser looked at Iber and raised his eyebrows. “I’ll place my bet on Mitty. What do you think?” Iber pondered the couple whose voices were simple murmurs on the other side of the door. He couldn’t tell who was winning, but he also figured Mitty for the winner. Malek was stubborn, but where Mitty was concerned he had a soft spot a mile wide.
“I think we’ll have three men and a big cat to wage war against those dragons.”
The door swung open and Mitty entered, beaming. Malek was wearing his typical scowl.
“Now, I have three different bolts of cloth, which is perfect, because I have three of you. Now just give me an hour or two and I can whip you up a nice set dragon protective underwear. Now I’ve been experimenting with different formulas, so I’ll tag them so I can tell which combination is the best.” Mitty pulled out her tape measure and swung it around her neck. “I’ll need some basic measurements…” Malek remained silent and sulked in the corner.
“What kind of cloth is this?” Iber asked as she motioned for him to stand up.
“Why dragon cloth, of course. Snult loaned me a few of his old scales and I’ve been practicing making some… of course, these are the versions which passed the fireplace test, but they haven’t been tested on real dragons yet. Hold up your arms.” Iber complied. Mitty’s eyes were glowing with excitement. He hadn’t seen anyone so happy for quite a long time. Marriage seemed to agree with her… even if her husband was a rather rude and unpleasant former thief.
“Right. Your turn, Lasser.” Iber watched Mitty calculate Lasser’s measurements. “Good, good, good, now… goodness, I forgot about the tea. And it’s almost supper time!” Mitty wrapped the measuring tape around her shoulders again and flitted off to the cabinets beside the stove.
“You must forgive me, but I don’t have time to sew and cook at the same time, but we do have…” She laid several bundles out on the table. “Four different kinds of cheese, and bread, and oh, you must taste this jam. A very little lady in the village makes it from the bushes in her garden. It is delightful. My father never let me buy jam. Malek lets me buy anything I want.” She stared lovingly at her husband who for the first time during their visit, turned his lips up in a smile, before quickly scowling again.
“This will be fine fare,” Lasser finally added to the conversation.
“And it shall be too late to start out today. You shall have to wait until tomorrow.”
“There’s a shed outside you can sleep in.” Malek said, obviously planning not to share his cozy cottage with Lasser and Iber.
“Malek, we can make room in here,” Mitty explained, eyeing the floor.
“Not if you need room to sew.”
“Iber and I would be pleased to sleep under the stars tonight. I prefer it, in fact,” Lasser said cordially. Iber wished he would speak for himself. But with the size of the cabin the only other option was to go back to the village and be gaped at by the townspeople. It wasn’t that cold out tonight. In fact, it was unseasonably warm.
“The shed will be fine for us. Besides, I think I’m slightly allergic to the cat.” To emphasize his point, Iber sneezed.
“Then the shed it is. Let me show you the way,” Malek said merrily, escorting them out of his humble abode.