Of Truth And Beasts Part 26

Your friend, Trtgyth Sykion Chuillyon stared at the note's end and grew suddenly anxious over what Gyr had done. He lifted the letter to look at the two enveloping sheets. The outer with the broken wax seal was unmarked, but the inner was addressed only to T'ovar.

Chuillyon could barely catch his breath. "This is-"

"A personal letter, not a guild communication," Gyr finished.

The admission was not an explanation.

Chuillyon scanned the letter twice more, his thoughts turning over the varied truths and lies, as he knew them. Wynn was certainly in full possession of both her reason and her conscience, though she had a reckless penchant with information best kept secret. Now things were so much worse.

One high premin secretly asked another to cut off Wynn. One of the three who sat on the entire guild's High Premin Council had stepped beyond protocol into personal manipulation and favors. Gyr, in the absence of their own high premin, had illicitly intercepted that communication, suspect as it was, and taken action with his temporary authority.

A deceit wrapped in a collusion just to block the efforts of one young sage.

Chuillyon worried where this would lead the guild as a whole.

"T'ovar will know this was meant for her eyes," he said.

Gyr pulled the letter's addressed inner wrap out of Chuillyon's hand and slowly crumpled it into a ball.

Chuillyon shook his head in disbelief. If Gyr thought that was enough to claim he had not known it was private before opening it . . .

"I have closed the archives," Gyr said.

Chuillyon swallowed hard. This was not just about Wynn. Gyr was using her as an excuse for something more.

"Considering your rare, present residency," Gyr went on, "I want your support to convince the council my decision was correct. T'ovar has longstanding doubts concerning the two human branches of our guild, but she has been too hesitant-"

"Fair-minded," Chuillyon corrected.

Gyr glared at him and continued. "Too overly empathetic where they are concerned."

"Do not do this," Chuillyon warned.

"You have expressed like concerns, as well. You know we must maintain safeguards and secrecy."

"It is too far . . . and too soon!"

"Better than too late."

Gyr paused for several breaths, perhaps trying to regain calm. Chuillyon had never been one to respond to a forceful persuasion.

"I cannot see how this journeyor ever came to even know of such writings," Gyr said, "much less try to access them. Sykion and Hawes have become lax in their protection of the recovered texts. For all of il'Snke's faults, at least he keeps his people under control."

"Yes, he manages that," Chuillyon returned dryly.

Either Gyr ignored the sarcasm or he did not notice. Chuillyon had his own estimation of Domin Gha.s.san il'Snke, and of the influence metaologers tried to wield in any of the guild branches.

"This will also cut off il'Snke's minion in that Suman contingent among us," Gyr added.

Chuillyon tried not to swallow, to sigh, or to wince as his peer, his superior, went on.

"If all is settled before T'ovar returns, she will not balk at what was done. It will simply be a relief that the decision was made, one that she's put off time and again. May I count on you?"

Chuillyon knew things about Wynn Hygeorht that would drop Gyr's jaw. He had kept everything that had happened in Dhredze Seatt to himself. He had worked so hard to guide Malourne's royal family, as had his subordinates a.s.signed to the Numan nations and territories. It was a duplicitous game of aid balanced against subtle control, and he had fought to keep his superiors from taking things too far.

His life had been spent perched upon a pin tip, trying to keep any faction of a future alliance from trampling the others in blind panic. Now it appeared he had not paid enough attention to how easily someone closer at hand could suddenly flick that pin out from under him. And just as unexpected, it had come riding on the robed skirt of Wynn Hygeorht.

Chuillyon should have laughed at his own foolishness, for he had overlooked the most likely possibility. And now . . .

"May I count on you?" Gyr repeated pointedly.

Chuillyon looked his old comrade in the eyes and feigned a serene smile. "Always."

"Good." And Gyr turned for the stairs. "I will convene the council first thing tomorrow morning."

Chuillyon waited until the premin's footsteps faded up the outer stairs. He then backed into his chamber, sank into a chair, and pressed his fingers to his mouth.

He could not openly oppose Gyr and risk weakening his own position and the standing of his suborder within the Order of Metaology. His support had hastened Gyr's rapid rise to authority and, through the tall premin, he had often influenced the council to a degree. He had held off their suspicions, their fears concerning the humans and their two branches of the guild. All the while, he had labored carefully to retain faith in his counsel from all sides that would be needed one day. For even the Numans had their own doubts about his people, as well as one another's nations.

Then Wynn Hygeorht returned with those ancient texts, still a secret to all but one nation among the Numans.

Everything was unraveling too quickly, and it had started from within the guild itself. He saw a day to come when he might be an enemy to all of the sides he had tried to hold together.

"Master?" a female voice called from above.

This was one he had been expecting, and he called out, "Yes, come."

Two robed elves appeared at his chamber entrance. One was an overly slender young woman in a midnight blue robe, and her male companion wore white. Hannschi and Shodh-"Within a Consecrated s.p.a.ce" and "Care-Tender"-were among the few people he trusted. Or at least among those he trusted mostly, if not completely.

"What kept you?" Chuillyon asked.

Hannschi bowed slightly. "We saw Premin Gyr enter the stairwell and thought it best to wait."

She was shorter than a human male, and so slender her closest friends sometimes called her Fohk'hann-a play on her name meaning "little female corn sprout." Her hair was a deep shade of gold, and when uncoiled hung a ridiculous length down her back to her knees. She had overly expressive eyes, especially for a metaologer.

Chuillyon was unaffected by her lovely appearance, though it had proven useful more than once. The way she listened, as if with her whole being, loosened the stiffest of tongues. She was a good judge of character in general. And though she had no intention of ever leaving the main Order of Metaology, she had quickly attached herself to him more than to cold-blooded Gyr. Chuillyon valued her for that, as well.

"Did he tell you he closed the archives?" Shodh asked quietly.

"Yes . . . he did," Chuillyon answered, eyeing the rare journeyor among his own suborder.

Shodh was a much different story from Hannschi. His eyes were a bit small and closely set. Not exactly slender, he was tall enough to make it appear so, and stood a full head above his companion. Somewhat stoic and private, Shodh disliked bothering with personal appearance. He kept his sandy hair cropped short.

"And?" Shodh added. "How did you respond?"

He rarely spoke unless necessary. Bland as a river stone on the surface, he was intelligent, careful-one might say sly-and fiercely loyal to the Order of Chrmun. He was also ambitious and ethically pliable, but these characteristics had their uses.

"I will support Gyr before the council gathering in the morning," Chuillyon answered.

Shodh's brow puckered, the closest thing to dissatisfaction he would show a superior. Hannschi's slow shake of her head was more disapproving, a gesture that Gyr would have considered insubordinate.

"Have you learned anything?" Chuillyon asked.

"The metaologer among the visiting Sumans gave them his room," Hannschi answered. "So far, only Journeyor Hygeorht and the majay-h have ventured out."

"Long enough to instigate closure of the archives," Shodh added flatly.

"So, how do we learn what she is after if she has no access?" Hannschi asked. "She will not get past the She'ith, or not for long, even with her armed human and dwarven escorts. The black majay-h is, of course, another matter."

Chuillyon clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply through his long nose. Hannschi was slightly tainted by her premin's att.i.tudes toward humans.

"She would never go that far," he countered. "But you cannot imagine the lengths she will go, if given the slightest chance . . . and a drop of a.s.sistance."

Hannschi c.o.c.ked her head, and her voice took on a taint of suspicion. "Master . . . you have something in mind."

"I do." Chuillyon smiled impishly. "With some simple thaumaturgical a.s.sistance."

Hannschi closed her eyes and slumped. "Oh . . . not again."

Shodh was trying very hard not to smile.

Domin Gha.s.san il'Snke stood near the bow of a Numan merchant vessel headed south along the coast. Harsh sea winds snapped his midnight blue robe as much as worries tugged his thoughts.

Before leaving Calm Seatt a day after Wynn Hygeorht had gone to the Dhredze Seatt, he had finished a more proper translation of fragments she had gleaned from Chane Andraso's strange scroll. Of course, Gha.s.san had kept his own copy, but he had wrestled with how much of it, if any, he should leave for Wynn. In the end, he had given up trying to decide. At least in her undisciplined way, she had uncovered for him many things her Numan superiors could or would not. He prepared a letter and the translation, leaving both for her, if she returned home.

His forced exit from the Numan branch had come sooner than expected, and with too little gained. He had only one thick journal's worth of surrept.i.tious copies from whatever pieces of the ancient texts he had been allowed to work on or view. It was galling the way the Numan Premin Council, especially Sykion and her underling High-Tower, kept everything hidden away. Those texts should have been transferred to the Suman branch. Hints of the earliest a.s.saults from the Ancient Enemy's forces seemed to have come out of the great desert.

Even without such hints, Gha.s.san already had his reasons for both knowing and believing in which corner of the world the next war would begin. If he had been able to find those texts, he would have taken them at all costs. There was too much at stake not to do so. But nothing could be done for the moment.

Frustration left him anxious for his journey's end. He had been away from his homeland and his guild branch for a long while. It would not be long now, maybe a few days more at best.

A sudden warmth built on his sternum.

Gha.s.san pressed his hand against the front folds of his robe. He glanced about the deck as he felt heat from the copper medallion he wore inside his robe. There were too many sailors close at hand.

Trying not to rush, he stepped down the forecastle's ladder and headed belowdecks to his cabin. Once there, he settled on the bunk's edge, pulled out the medallion, and let it rest upon his palm. He closed his eyes, waiting.

A voice rose in his mind, dull at first, but sharpening as he fixed his will upon it.

Master?

Yes, Mujahid, he answered.

She is here. I do not know how or why, or how you knew . . . but she arrived last night.

Indeed, Gha.s.san had half expected this, for he knew her general location. He had his own way of tracking Wynn, one she would never suspect. As long as she carried the staff, he would know her whereabouts by direction and approximate distance. He could always find the staff with his mind if he focused. He had helped to make the crystal and imbued it with a fragment of his will.

Gha.s.san knew Wynn had left the Numan branch of the guild, traveling south at first. Much later she had turned east. He had never been completely certain where she headed, but the direction pointed toward very few places she might go. It was pure chance that Mujahid had been on a.s.signment at the Lhoin'na branch. Gha.s.san had notified the young journeyor under his tutelage, who was also a prime future candidate for his inner sect.

Was she alone or with others? he finally asked.

Three companions. A tall human male, a male dwarf, and a wolf . . . or what the Lhoin'na call- A dwarf?

Yes, Domin, but I know nothing about him as yet.

Gha.s.san moved on to details over which he had more control. Is the human called Chane?

Yes.

This troubled Gha.s.san deeply. Wynn Hygeorht's choice of companions had always been a concern and an unpredictable influence. How in all of Existence had Chane Andraso walked into the Lhoin'na forest?

Do not allow yourself to be alone with that one, Gha.s.san warned, and then paused in thought. Do you know why Wynn is there?

Not yet, but . . . the Lhoin'na Premin Council has shut the archives.

What? Why?

The territorial She'ith-their Serenitiers-guard all entrances rather than sages. Domin Safir and Journey or Marwan were physically barred from entering.

This was too much, so drastic it could not be about Wynn alone. No branch dared deny access to ranking sages from another branch, at least not in such an obvious way. Something else was happening in the upper ranks of elven sages.

They claimed it is for restructuring, Mujahid went on, but I have not seen one archivist or a.s.sistant enter access points that I have watched. Only once did anyone pa.s.s the guards . . . only premins.

Gha.s.san had no notion of what purpose this severe action served or what had caused it.

When did this happen?

Mujahid paused before answering. I took Journeyor Hygeorht to see Premin Gyr, as she had an official communication for High Premin T'ovar, who is not present. I left her there, as I did not think it pertinent.

Likely neither had Wynn. Gha.s.san's suspicions were already working. There was little chance to learn what that letter contained, but it must have come from the Numan Premin Council if it was for T'ovar-perhaps directly from Sykion. Was there something developing between the Lhoin'na and Numan sages? If so, would they leave Gha.s.san's own branch out?

Domin . . . how am I to continue if I cannot access the archives?

Gha.s.san slouched upon the bunk's edge. Mujahid's a.s.signment was critical, but more critical was why Wynn had shown up at the Lhoin'na branch. Likely she sought those same archives for good reason, but the message she had brought had cut off both her and Mujahid.

What should I do? Mujahid asked.

Keep me appraised of Journeyor Hygeorht's activities. Without access to search for what we need, you will continue reporting to me, and only to me, so long as your group remains there. You will report anything you learn concerning the Lhoin'na Premin Council.

Yes, Domin.

And especially, Gha.s.san added, everything you can learn concerning Premin Gyr.

Mujahid fell silent.

Is there a problem?

The journeyor of Metaology did not answer immediately. When he did, Gha.s.san felt the trepidation carried by two words.