November 21

Word Count: 1771

After only half a day at the monastery, Iber knew why Saratin had been so excited to be out in the real world. Nothing happened there. It was silent. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and they spent most of their time by themselves meditating. Once Saratin had buried himself deep in the library, Iber had decided he might as well pay a short visit to his father.

Ladona was only a few short hours on horseback from his father's estate, and if Iber was going to attend court, he'd need a few of his more impressive outfits. He'd even fetch his favorite feathered hat that he hadn't brought along because its hatbox was so bulky. Iber would need his hat to impress the ladies and noblemen of the court. Had his father not been so annoyed with him, Iber would have received his permission to go to court shortly. Now that he had an invitation from the princess herself, Iber was sure that his father would support him whole-heartedly.

After about two hours of travel, the sun began to turn the sky a hazy red. Dusk settled in and Iber realized he probably should have accepted the brother's hospitality at the monastery for the night, and set out the next morning, but his boredom had necessitated a hasty departure. He told himself that Saratin would be busy for at least two days in the library so he might as well make the trip as soon as possible so the two could leave for court immediately.

Iber tried to think if there was an inn nearby. Perhaps if he pushed on, he would find one. Just as the last remnants of the sun left the sky, Iber passed two farm laborers struggling with a heavy plow.

"Is there an inn nearby?" He asked from the road. One of the figures stepped closer. In the dark, he hadn't noticed that the figures in the field were both women. One was a girl, actually, of about twelve, and the other appeared to be her mother.

"No, good sir. The nearest inn is a good ten miles in the other direction." The woman replied.

"Why are you working so late into the darkness?" Iber asked, curious.

"If we don't get this land plowed soon, we'll starve. My husband's broke his leg. We'll most likely starve anyway this season. There's only my daughter and I to work the fields."

"Then whose land is this?" A landlord shouldn't let his people starve.

"Sir Menymus, milord. We're the very tail end. Across the road yonder is Sir Degreel."

So Iber was closer to home than he had realized. And his father was letting some people on his land starve. Women should not be working plows to survive. They should not have to worry about the fields being their only source of food. They should have some redress when his father sat unconcerned in golden rooms in golden dressing gowns. He knew his father would never hear about her problems. His father could care less. The anger bubbled up inside Iber. What the land couldn't provide, the landlord should. And when the landlord wouldn't provide?

The ground rumbled beneath them. Iber's horse began to dance nervously on the road. The two women grabbed onto the fence post beside them and held on tightly as the shaking increased. The ground behind them began to swell and bubble. The little girl screamed and clung to her mother. From the swells white stalks appeared, shooting up into the sky about twice Iber's height. They spread, their large leaves blooming out and reflecting the moonlight. Pale white husks sprouted and hung heavily from the stems.

When the earth stopped moving, a sudden quiet took hold for a moment, where even the insects seemed to be catching their breath. The woman turned to survey the field, firmly catching her daughter against her. The plow was hidden by the strange white growth that covered the entire field.

Iber dismounted, and wrapped the reigns of his horse around the fence post before climbing over and standing beside the woman. The three jumped when one of the husks fell to the ground. Another one quickly bloomed in its place on the plant. They stared at it for a moment.

"Shall I open it?" Iber stated. The woman simply nodded. He withdrew his sword and the women scuffled back away from the husk. With a long single slice, he split it in two. "Bread rolls," he exclaimed. Iber reached in and removed one of the crusty pieces. "Bread rolls… and they're hot!" He laid his sword down on the ground and juggled the hot roll between his hands. He took a bite. "They're even buttered!"

The girl lost her fear and ran up to the husk and examined the contents. She pulled a roll out of the husk and took a bite.

"Mama, they're just like yours!" She proffered the other half to her mother who took a bite.

"No, these aren't like mine. They're better."

Curious, Iber grabbed a husk from another plant and pulled it off the plant. It came loose with a pop, and before Iber could even retrieve his sword, another husk had grown in its place. This one was heavier than the bread husk. He eagerly slit it open and discovered a perfectly cooked ham. It had even been glazed.

"Ham!" The woman shouted excitedly. "How long has it been since we've had ham?" The woman paused to gaze at the field filled with hundred of plants. "Are they all different?" she asked.

The three of them decided to answer the question. They went searching into the field, grabbing husks off the different plants and piling them next to the fence. After they'd picked about twenty, Iber began splitting them open. He loaned his dagger to the woman and she split open the smaller ones. Each one they opened was a new surprise.

"Onions!" the woman shouted.

"Hey, it's a blanket," Iber said.

"And carrots!"

"It's a jug of," Iber paused as pulled out the cork, "wine."

"Mama? How are we getting all this back to the house." Iber looked around them. The white husks lay empty in a pile and their spoils had been divided into edibles and supplies.

"I suppose we just need to find the wagon plant," the woman said good heartedly.

"We can probably put most of it on my horse." Iber said as he climbed over the fence. "You can hand it over to me."

"What do you want to take?" The woman asked him. "It looks we have plenty more than we could ever use."

Iber paused to smile at her. She'd recently had nothing, but was the first to offer him something once she had. Iber's father would have been putting up barricades. Iber stopped smiling. When his father learned about this field, he'd probably kick them off. He'd find his own ways to exploit the plants. Iber had to think of a way to protect them from…

"Once we've delivered this to your cottage, you must go to as many of your neighbors as you can reach. Tell them that they must tell their neighbors that this field is a gift from the Great Mages who have returned to the land of Galadin. This field is to be dedicated and all who wish may take from its riches."

The woman nodded and began to pass the goods to Iber. Once loaded, the three walked happily to their cottage at the far end of the field. They were met by the woman's incredulous husband, leaning on a crutch, and a neighbor's son who had come to ask his own questions. The woman enlightened the men and they went inside for a quick meal before the woman, her daughter, and her son branched out to inform their neighbors of the Great Mages wonderful gift.

The husband, full of gratitude, showed Iber to a small cot after he refused their own bed, and hobbled off to inspect more of the plants on this edge of the field. Iber, for some reason, found himself suddenly very tired. He pulled off his boots, and lay down on the cot. It wasn't until just moments before sleep that Iber realized he hadn't sent the woman out to lie to her neighbors. He must have caused the plants to grow without even realizing it, so in truth, it was a Great Mage gift. Iber fell asleep with a smile on his lips and peace in his heart.

The words were beginning to swim in front of Saratin's eyes. The flowery script of the ancient spell book danced across the page a moment before Saratin forced his eyes to refocus. He had to finish before Brother Chauw realized that Saratin didn't have a clue of what he was looking for. Saratin did have a clue. He was looking for everything. He had to learn everything from scratch and the flowery obtuse metaphors the old scribes were fond of creating said much but explained to Saratin very little.

When Brother Chauw had first led him down into the crypt, a part of the monastery Saratin had never been allowed into before, he was at first startled by the ornate stone work. It was the most finite of the entire monastery. The smell was also not very attractive. The crypt smelled like death - rotting corpses to be exact. Saratin was surprised as they walked through a fairly narrow room lined with the bodies of brothers in various states of decay.

"Is this the only way to the restricted library?" Saratin asked.

"Yes. They're here to remind us of our mortality." Brother Chauw paused in front of one shelf. "Hello Brother Eddel. He's not smelling quite as ripe as last week."

Saratin hurried past the tombs and was relieved that when the door to the library was closed, the smell dissipated. There'd been more books in the library than he'd expected, and most of them were huge tombs of dense reading. Even after several hours of reading, Saratin had barely made a dent in the prolific works of the Great Mage's scribes. Even after Brother Chauw had gone to bed, Saratin scoured the texts, hoping to find some clear definition on how the mage's power actually worked. What he'd read so far had been practically useless.

The text swam in front of him and Saratin finally found his limit. He curled up on a bench, and using a book for a pillow, took what he told himself was going to be a short nap.