with the shape-changer, and there were questions she
wanted answers to, but being in the tree's presence had made all her questions
seem less urgent, as if she were measuring time more slowly now. So she just
stared at the purple bat and admired its wings.
Sinafin hung upside down from a near branch and gazed at Alexa.
Even this wasn't too disconcerting. She was operating on tree-time, with
tree-serenity-philosophy still pulsing around her.
The shapeshifter whiffled, eyes bright. You like the
brithenwood tree, very good.
Why? Another question that should be more important than it
seemed. Only one concern rose to her mind.
"I'm here to make new fenceposts to defend Lladrana?"
She'd culled that from Sinafin's mind-movie of the night before and the talk
amongst the Marshalls in the Temple after she'd been taken to bed like a kid.
But within the peace of the garden the spark of irritation failed to flame.
Yes.
"Tell me of the fenceposts."
They are the primary defense of Lladrana, made by Guardian
Marshalls during the last true invasion of horrors, about eight hundred years
ago.
Before my time. Since then we've had only little groups sneaking
over. And the frinks. They are new in the past two years.
"I'm supposed to discover how the fenceposts are made and
remake them?" Alexa wanted to be clear on this point.
The bat stretched its wings, so transparent that some stars shone
through the tissue-skin. Yes.
"How?"
The Song will guide you.
Alexa hadn't heard voices yet. "How?"
Sinafin was silent, her sprightly tune having faded. The
background music hardly murmured. The tree was silent. Nothing answered Alexa.
T he next morning the Marshalls had no sooner taken their seats
around the Council table than the door flew open with a jar of harpstrings and
Reynardus, Lord Knight of the Marshalls, strode in.
They all stood, Thealia slightly slower than the others. Though
Reynardus marched to his chair at the head of the table and took it with a
haughty look, pallor showed under his skin. He'd dipped in the jerir. Had
probably swum back and forth the length of the pool, Thealia thought sourly.
She narrowed her eyes. His expression hinted at controlled emotion.
"Events have not progressed well in the hours I have been
gone. Hopefully now that I am back and can direct them, they will proceed
better. I want to know what has occurred. I see we are all here except the dead
Defau and Albertus's ailing wife," he said, still standing, knowing they
all must sit after he did.
Thealia inclined her head. "I am sure you have been updated
on all events."
"We lost Defau and nearly lost Veya. The Choosing Ceremony
failed. If we spend hours on training the Exotique, give her jewels and land as
is required, she might still disappear like this—" he snapped gloved
fingers, but the sound was still loud.
Thealia's temper simmered.
Reynardus continued. "Furthermore, I hear you opened the
jerir pool not only to the Marshalls and select landowners and Chevaliers, but
to all Chevaliers—no, let me amend—" He peeled the gloves from his
hands and flung them on the table. "You invited anyone to immerse
themselves in our precious jerir. The jerir that cost us great effort to move
from a natural pool to the Temple pool. With the right care it could have been
saved and used for a year—"
"I thought we had agreed to drain the jerir," Thealia
said. "But you were the one in charge of that. Did you have plans that the
rest of us didn't know of?"
A touch of red lined his cheekbones. "That is moot now. I
cannot believe you will let any scum off the city street use the jerir. I heard
a stable boy dipped last night, a stable boy!"
Thealia looked at Mace.
His face hardened. "Your son's new squire," he said.
Reynardus's brows rose. "Luthan has a new squire?"
"Bastien," said Mace.
Someone turned a laugh into a cough.
Reynardus's nostrils flared. "I should have known he'd have
such poor judgment as to take a nobody stable boy for a squire, but for
wanted answers to, but being in the tree's presence had made all her questions
seem less urgent, as if she were measuring time more slowly now. So she just
stared at the purple bat and admired its wings.
Sinafin hung upside down from a near branch and gazed at Alexa.
Even this wasn't too disconcerting. She was operating on tree-time, with
tree-serenity-philosophy still pulsing around her.
The shapeshifter whiffled, eyes bright. You like the
brithenwood tree, very good.
Why? Another question that should be more important than it
seemed. Only one concern rose to her mind.
"I'm here to make new fenceposts to defend Lladrana?"
She'd culled that from Sinafin's mind-movie of the night before and the talk
amongst the Marshalls in the Temple after she'd been taken to bed like a kid.
But within the peace of the garden the spark of irritation failed to flame.
Yes.
"Tell me of the fenceposts."
They are the primary defense of Lladrana, made by Guardian
Marshalls during the last true invasion of horrors, about eight hundred years
ago.
Before my time. Since then we've had only little groups sneaking
over. And the frinks. They are new in the past two years.
"I'm supposed to discover how the fenceposts are made and
remake them?" Alexa wanted to be clear on this point.
The bat stretched its wings, so transparent that some stars shone
through the tissue-skin. Yes.
"How?"
The Song will guide you.
Alexa hadn't heard voices yet. "How?"
Sinafin was silent, her sprightly tune having faded. The
background music hardly murmured. The tree was silent. Nothing answered Alexa.
T he next morning the Marshalls had no sooner taken their seats
around the Council table than the door flew open with a jar of harpstrings and
Reynardus, Lord Knight of the Marshalls, strode in.
They all stood, Thealia slightly slower than the others. Though
Reynardus marched to his chair at the head of the table and took it with a
haughty look, pallor showed under his skin. He'd dipped in the jerir. Had
probably swum back and forth the length of the pool, Thealia thought sourly.
She narrowed her eyes. His expression hinted at controlled emotion.
"Events have not progressed well in the hours I have been
gone. Hopefully now that I am back and can direct them, they will proceed
better. I want to know what has occurred. I see we are all here except the dead
Defau and Albertus's ailing wife," he said, still standing, knowing they
all must sit after he did.
Thealia inclined her head. "I am sure you have been updated
on all events."
"We lost Defau and nearly lost Veya. The Choosing Ceremony
failed. If we spend hours on training the Exotique, give her jewels and land as
is required, she might still disappear like this—" he snapped gloved
fingers, but the sound was still loud.
Thealia's temper simmered.
Reynardus continued. "Furthermore, I hear you opened the
jerir pool not only to the Marshalls and select landowners and Chevaliers, but
to all Chevaliers—no, let me amend—" He peeled the gloves from his
hands and flung them on the table. "You invited anyone to immerse
themselves in our precious jerir. The jerir that cost us great effort to move
from a natural pool to the Temple pool. With the right care it could have been
saved and used for a year—"
"I thought we had agreed to drain the jerir," Thealia
said. "But you were the one in charge of that. Did you have plans that the
rest of us didn't know of?"
A touch of red lined his cheekbones. "That is moot now. I
cannot believe you will let any scum off the city street use the jerir. I heard
a stable boy dipped last night, a stable boy!"
Thealia looked at Mace.
His face hardened. "Your son's new squire," he said.
Reynardus's brows rose. "Luthan has a new squire?"
"Bastien," said Mace.
Someone turned a laugh into a cough.
Reynardus's nostrils flared. "I should have known he'd have
such poor judgment as to take a nobody stable boy for a squire, but for
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