Memory 009: GR - Seven Chimneys (SigPos)
Oct. 8th, 2014 09:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
justariderGame Received: Cutie Velvet's "What is Real?" game, Day 393, Late afternoon
Team Played With: mingle
Memory Form: a ragdoll wearing your team's colors, with a little tag with the words "Are you Real?" Ask the question yourself to view the memory. The memory has up to four uses before the words on the tag fade off completely.
Someone prodded Karigan's ribs.
"Stop it, Estral. I'll go to class tomorrow." She moaned and rolled over
onto her back. The rich scent of loam filled her nostrils and the sun beat on
her face. She blinked her eyes open. Clouds smeared the sky like
fingerprints. This wasn't her dorm room.
Thump, thump. This time on her shoulder.
Karigan blinked again. Soldiers pursued her. Soldiers who would stop at
nothing to possess the message she carried.
She sat bolt upright, and the world spun. She gasped in terror, feeling
around herself for a rock, for anything with which to defend herself,
expecting at any moment to feel the sting of Captain Immerez's cruel
whip. But when the dizziness passed, two elderly ladies, not Captain
Immerez at all, stood before her. She rubbed her eyes to make sure.
"The child is alive," said one.
"I can see that very well for myself," said the other.
Karigan shook her aching head to make sure she wasn't dreaming, but
the two still stood there staring at her in fascination, lively eyes animating
crinkled elfin faces.
The plump one wore a dress of burnt orange and had a white apron tied
around her ample hips. A kindly smile rounded her cheeks into robust
humps. Her companion, in contrast, wore a sterner expression on her
narrow face. She was dressed in deep velvet green with puffy sleeves, a
black shawl draped over her shoulders. She leaned on a cane of twisted
hickory, which she had used to prod Karigan awake. They both looked as
if they were out for a stroll in one of Selium's manicured parks, not
standing in the middle of the wilderness.
"Do you think we ought to take the child in?" the plump one asked.
"She does look harmless and frightfully out of sorts. It would be rude of
us not to invite her to tea."
"That would surpass mere rudeness, I fear. It would be uncivilized. But
what of the others?"
"They must be invited, too."
Karigan glanced over her shoulder to see who they meant, but only The
Horse stood there.
"Letitia will have a thing or two to say about the mud."
The thin one rolled her eyes. "She always has a thing or two to say."
"The child does look like she's in need of a good scrubbing. She is very
muddy."
"I agree. It would only be proper for her to be presentable, and Letitia
wouldn't have so much to complain about." The woman then turned her
sharp eyes on Karigan. "Come, child, and bring your friends. It's nearly
time for tea and you mustn't keep us waiting."
The two ladies turned their backs to her and walked down a surprisingly
well-groomed trail. A well-groomed trail? The last she remembered was a
tangle of underbrush. She watched The Horse follow the strange old
ladies, his ears twitching back and forth as if he listened to their
nonsensical chatter rising and burbling like birdsong. The woman in green
halted and looked over her shoulder.
"Child, are you coming or not? It would be terribly impolite of you to
be late. Look, your companions are joining us."
Karigan looked, but still couldn't see anyone but The Horse. She could
only wonder who these eccentric ladies were and what they were doing in
the middle of the woods.
They appeared harmless enough, and The Horse seemed to trust them.
She snorted at herself: was she to rely on horse instinct this whole strange
journey? It was her stomach, though, that decided her. It rumbled in an
empty, cavernous way, and the thought of tea and cake was heartening.
Legs wobbly and head pounding, she climbed to her feet and trotted to
catch up with them.
The woods gradually grew more cultivated. The path broadened into a
full-scale road wide enough for two amply outfitted coaches to pass one
another. It was well maintained, too, compared to the North Road.
Someone had cleared dead wood and the snaggle of underbrush from the
bordering woods, lending the area an aura of order and balance unlike the
chaos of the untouched wilderness. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the road.
They crossed a stone bridge which spanned a chatty stream. Warblers
trilled in the woods about them. The pounding in Karigan's head subsided;
weariness lifted from her shoulders.
The road ended in a loop at a stately old manor house built of stone and
timbers. Several chimneys puffed balsam smoke into the air, and windows
rippled in the sunshine. Vines crept up the sides of the manor house,
blending it harmoniously into the woods. Several outbuildings of like
character, including a small stable, were spread out behind it. It was an
oasis in the middle of the Green Cloak.
The two ladies mounted the steps to the front porch which wrapped
around the house. "Welcome to Seven Chimneys," said the woman in
green, as if addressing an assembly rather than just Karigan.
Karigan counted the chimneys and came up with nine, not seven.
"It was built by our father long ago," the woman continued. "Come."
She extended her hand. A fine tracery of veins like rivers on a map looped
around her thin wrist and across the back of her hand. "Our servants will
see to your friend, the horse."
No servants appeared, but The Horse walked toward the stable as
obediently as if led. The two old ladies certainly were peculiar, but they
didn't seem threatening, and so she followed them into the house.
The floors were a light stained oak, and the walls were papered with
intricate, flowery designs. Rich hangings, anonymous portraits of men and
women garbed in armor or fancy dress, and hand-braided carpets adorned
each room they passed through, all miraculously unfaded by time or
sunlight.
Heavy furnishings were intricately carved, not a surface left untouched.
One such chair in the corridor had a back carved in the likeness of a tree,
its armrests and legs all leaves and sinuous, winding branches and roots. A
red velvet cushion covered the seat.
Cheerful fires glowed in each fieldstone hearth they passed, and
Karigan's damp chill began to be replaced by warmth.
"Letitia has set a bath for you, child," the plump lady said. "She will be
none too happy about the mud you've let in, but don't let her annoy you. If
she couldn't complain, she wouldn't enjoy life at all. Isn't that right, Miss
Bayberry?"
"Indeed. Mud season is the bane of her life, poor dear, and sends her
into a snit every year. We endure, however. It is impossible to find good
help out here." Miss Bayberry paused in front of a door and took a deep
breath. "Well, then, child, we shall lend you a nightgown and robe after
your bath. Letitia will see to the cleaning of your clothes."
They led her into a stone-flagged room where yet another hearth merrily
crackled with fire. A solitary window looked out into the garden. Sunlight
filtered through its upper pane, which was stained in the deep hues of wild
blueberries and cast liquid splashes of blues and greens on the slate floor.
Plumes of steam rose from a brass hip bath in the center of the room. It
wasn't what Karigan was used to, with Selium's porcelain tubs and piped
water, but in her present state, the hip bath looked heavenly.
Miss Bayberry pointed her cane at the tub. "Take your time, child.
Relax— you look thoroughly done in."
The two left, pulling the door shut behind them. The voice of the plump
one drifted back to Karigan from somewhere down the corridor: "I think
our etiquette has improved over the years, dear sister."
The other made a muffled agreement.
Karigan disrobed, untidily dropping her clothes on the floor. A bucket
of cold water and a dipper stood next to the tub. She ladled enough cold
water into the bath to make it bearable, but it was still shockingly hot as
she submerged.
Sprigs of mint floated on the water, the scent soothing and relaxing her.
Her body quickly adapted to the heat, and her taut muscles loosened.
Before she became too languid, she set about cleaning several days'
accumulation of grit from herself. Her long hair wasn't easily managed,
but she struggled with it till it was clean and fully rinsed.
She sighed blissfully and eventually dozed off. When she awakened, the
bath water was still comfortably warm, and sunshine still glimmered
through the window as before. Yet, she couldn't help but think hours had
passed.
Her clothes had disappeared, but the promised nightgown and robe
hung from pegs on the wall, a comb placed on a side table, and a pair of
soft suede slippers were on the floor below.
They do think of everything.
When she was dry, robed, and her long hair was combed out, the
pleasant smell of mint lingered on her skin and hair. As if on cue, Miss
Bayberry tapped on the door.
"Child, are you prepared for tea?"
Karigan cracked the door open and smiled. "Yes, I'm ready."
"Very good. Bunch awaits us in the parlor."
Bunch?
Miss Bayberry, leaning on her cane, led Karigan to the most elaborate
room of all. They sat on a plush sofa which faced yet another hearth. The
sofa's armrests were carved with floral patterns and hummingbirds.
Sunlight beamed through a broad window casting the room in a warm
amber tint.
The plump one, "Bunch," Karigan supposed, carried in a silver tea
service on a tray and set it on a table before them.
"We use the silver for special guests only," she said. "Not that we
receive guests very often, special or otherwise. Usually a wayward
stranger lost in the woods. I trust you found the bath satisfactory."
"Oh, yes— splendid!" It wasn't a word Karigan typically used, but it
seemed appropriate in this house of rich furnishings, and in the company
of these two ladies.
Bunch poured tea. "Honey and cream? No, not you, my dear Bay. You
know what cream does to your digestion."
Miss Bayberry hrrrumfed her opinion.
Butter cookies, scones, and pound cake were served with tea, and while
the ladies discussed the oddities of weather and gardening, Karigan's mind
brimmed and swirled like the cream in her tea, especially when Bunch
poured a fourth cup which she placed before an unoccupied chair.
Miss Bayberry noticed Karigan eyeing the teacup. "I am sorry your
other companion could not join us, but Letitia would not have him in the
house. She was adamant."
Karigan couldn't take it any longer. "Companion? What companion?
I've been traveling alone."
"Oh, my dear. You must be terribly unobservant."
"Or dense," Bunch said, not unsympathetically.
"I was referring, of course, to your companion whom you call The
Horse. I assure you that though he did not join us for tea, he is being well
tended by the stableboy."
"The Horse." Karigan shifted in her seat wondering if the women were
mad. "And the other?"
Bunch and Bayberry exchanged surprised glances.
"If you don't know, dear," Miss Bayberry said, "then it may not be our
place to tell you."
"Oh, come now, Bay. She will think us daft old fools. My dear child, a
spirit accompanies you."
A swallow of tea caught in Karigan's throat and she choked violently.
"Oh!" fretted Bunch. "I told Letitia to leave the nuts out of the scones."
Miss Bayberry struck Karigan soundly on the back.
"A what accompanies me?" she sputtered.
"My," Bunch said. "She's deaf, too."
"A SPIRIT!" Miss Bayberry hollered through cupped hands.
"Please," Karigan said, her back stinging and her ears ringing, "I can
hear fine."
"Ah." Miss Bayberry crooked a skeptical brow. "You are accompanied
by a shadow. A specter, a ghost, a shade. You know, dear, a spirit." Her
apparent ease with the topic was unnerving. "He follows you. You, or
something about you, binds him to the earth."
Karigan paled. She had heard stories, of course, of dead relatives
visiting those still alive and loved. There were many tales of spirits
haunting buildings in Selium, but she had never given them much
credence.
"Now you've gone and done it, Bay. You've upset the child."
"H-how do you see this spirit?" Karigan asked.
"Quite simply, the same way we see you." Bunch twisted her teacup in
her hand. "He wears green and has black hair hanging to his shoulders.
Two black-shafted arrows protrude from a blood-dampened back that will
not dry."
"He calls himself F'ryan Coblebay," Miss Bayberry said.
Karigan's hands trembled. How could they know what he looked like or
how he had died unless… unless they really could see him? They could
have gotten his name off the love letter which had still been in the pocket
of the greatcoat… The greatcoat had disappeared from the bathing room
with the rest of her clothes.
Miss Bayberry placed a comforting hand on Karigan's wrist. "Not to
worry, dear. Master Coblebay is only trying to watch over you, to see that
his mission is carried out. After that, he will pass on. As it is, he tends to
fade in and out. His link with that which is earthly is rather limited. One
day, you too, may see."
Karigan shook her head in disbelief. Here she was, in this incredible
manor house, with two old, eccentric ladies who could communicate with
ghosts. Either they were cracked, or they were seers, or some other sort of
magic was at work. "Who are you?" she asked. "And what are you doing
out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Miss Bayberry rapped the handle of her cane on the little table. Scones
and cookies bounced, and teacups clattered. "Bunch! Did we forget
introductions? Did we?"
An expression of horror swept across Bunch's plump features, and she
covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Bay. In our haste to please, we
forgot. It has been so long since anyone has visited. Can you forgive us,
child, for forgetting this one basic propriety?"
Karigan stared dumbly.
The ladies must have perceived her reaction as forgiveness, for they
both released sighs of genuine relief.
"Well, then," Miss Bayberry said, "let us introduce ourselves properly.
We are the Berry sisters. I am Bay and this is my sister Bunch."
"Our dear father, the late Professor Berry, gave us names that made us
sound like some of the local vegetation," Bunch said with a chuckle.
"Terms of endearment, really. They are but nicknames."
"We were born," Miss Bayberry said, "with the names Isabelle—"
"And Penelope," Bunch finished. "Though we rarely use our true
names."
"We loved our father a great deal. It was he who built this house in the
midst of the Green Cloak's wilds. He said it was the only way to absorb
the power of nature and bring to the wilderness an element of civilization.
What with no towns nearby, and the unpredictability of living near the
northern border, it was not an easy life, especially for our mother. Child,
there wasn't even a road back then."
Miss Bunchberry smoothed a crease out of her linen napkin. "When our
father built Seven Chimneys, he sought to provide Mother a respectable
estate. He spared no expense for her, and even brought along the entire
household staff from our original home in Selium."
"Selium," Karigan said. "That's where I began my journey."
"Are you a scholar?" Miss Bayberry asked.
Karigan frowned. "No." She hadn't been much of anything at Selium.
"Ah, well. Our father was. He was a master of many disciplines— so
many that he just wore a white uniform with a master's knot. None of the
single disciplines have white uniforms, you know, and Father was the only
one to wear it. Soon he studied disciplines that were no longer taught… or
approved of."
Miss Bunch leaned forward. "The arcane arts," she whispered.
A tremor ran up Karigan's spine. Magic was a topic to be shunned by
most Sacoridians.
"Who is telling the story?" Miss Bayberry demanded.
Miss Bunchberry pouted.
"Don't interrupt again." Miss Bayberry cast her sister a severe
expression, then cleared her throat and continued. "Father started to study
the arcane arts. He spent years poring over old books and scrolls in the
archives, first to learn the history of magic, then to learn its application.
The latter made the Guardian of Selium nervous. You see, after those
incursions made by Mornhavon the Black, who used such terrible powers
during the Long War, people have been phobic of magic, as if using it
would restore Mornhavon, or someone like him, to power.
"The Guardian finally demanded that Father either stop trying to
awaken magic, or leave the city. As you may have concluded, Father
chose to leave the school."
Karigan was incredulous. First ghosts, now magic. These two old ladies
must be daft. Her hands shook a little as she set her empty teacup on the
table before her.
"Was… was your father successful?" she asked. "At awakening magic, I
mean…"
"Yes and no," Miss Bayberry said. "He had no natural talent. Either you
are born with innate talent, or you can possess a device which provides or
augments powers. Mornhavon the Black had natural powers, but he
augmented them with a device called the Black Star. Father did try to
create magical devices, but he wasn't very successful because the magic
wasn't within him. The arcane arts are elusive. Still, he was able to
accomplish some things. I expect you know all about magic."
"Uh, no."
Miss Bayberry raised both brows. "But surely you must know since you
carry a magical device."
"I—"
Karigan looked at Miss Bayberry, then Miss Bunchberry. Their faces
were flat, their eyes questioning. The house creaked in the stillness.
"You are a Green Rider, are you not?" Miss Bayberry asked.
"No, not exactly."
The ladies exchanged glances and rounded their mouths into O's.
"Our question to you, then," Miss Bunchberry said, "is who are you?"
Karigan shifted uncomfortably in her seat under their intense gazes. It
was as if the room had suddenly iced over. She realized she would have to
do some fast talking or… Or what? What could these two possibly do to
her? With all the talk of magic and ghosts, better not to find out.
In acknowledgment of their penchant for propriety, she stood up and
bowed the formal bow of the clans: one hand over her heart, and bending
deeply at the waist.
"I'm Karigan G'ladheon of Clan G'ladheon," she said. "At your service."
"A merchant greeting," Miss Bunchberry said in hushed tones to her
sister.
Miss Bayberry remained unmoved, absently caressing the smooth
handle of her cane. "You'd best tell us your story, Karigan G'ladheon."
Karigan cleared her throat uncertainly. She glanced at the fire, finding
some comfort in its warmth and cheerful crack and pop. "I, uh, left Selium
rather abruptly." She took a deep breath. "I was a student there, and the
dean suspended me. Indefinitely."
The sisters maintained their stoic expressions. Somehow it seemed
terribly important to be honest with them. If she admitted her doubtful
background, they would be more willing to trust her. Still, it didn't make
the telling any easier.
"The dean suspended me because I skipped classes and such. He said
my, uh, attitude wasn't good." Blood crept up her neck and colored her
cheeks, and still the ladies stayed mute, neither condemning her nor
offering comfort. "The main reason he suspended me was because there
was this fight. And I won."
She could still see it clearly, the throng of students pushing and shoving
around the practice ring to see what was happening, Timas Mirwell prone
on the ground, spitting dirt, the tip of her wooden practice sword against
the back of his neck. You are dead, she had told him.
Miss Bunch lifted a brow. "You were suspended for winning a fight?"
"I beat the heir of the lord-governor of Mirwell Province." At the time,
she hadn't felt remorseful about challenging him to the fight, then
thrashing him. He had humiliated her in a number of other ways since the
first day she arrived at school, and she had finally had enough. But now,
under the steady scrutiny of the Berry sisters, she had a new perspective.
She felt childish.
"All right," Miss Bayberry said with a dismissive gesture. "You've
established you were not the most desirable student which, in the end,
caused you to leave Selium. Did you not think to face your problem?"
Karigan's cheeks grew warm again. "I was too angry. I ran away. That's
when I met F'ryan Coblebay."
"Ah," said Miss Bunchberry. "This is what we were wondering about."
Karigan wiggled in her seat and felt the weight of their gazes on her
again. But she had nothing to be ashamed of with this part of the story.
She told them of how she encountered F'ryan Coblebay, dying with two
arrows in his back, and anxious for her to carry his message to the king.
She was careful about what she told them— it wouldn't do to reveal more
than necessary. She wished she hadn't let the message satchel out of sight.
She finished with her narrow escape from Captain Immerez and his men.
The sisters glanced at one another as if mentally conferring. The room
warmed considerably.
"The spirit… that is, F'ryan Coblebay, wasn't able to tell us so much,"
Miss Bayberry said. "You've explained yourself quite adequately, dear
child. Yours is a brave undertaking. Many would have quailed at carrying
such a message under such serious circumstances." She must have noticed
Karigan's stricken expression for she added, "Rolph the stableboy
immediately placed the message satchel in the guestroom where you will
be spending the night. No one has broken the seal of the message. Your
other things await you there as well… except the device which is in our
immediate care."
"The… device?"
"Yes, the arcane device. The one that caused you to fade out when you
faced those brigands on the road. The brooch, child."
"Oh!"
"It isn't a particularly powerful thing," Miss Bunchberry said. "It may
even be more trouble than it's worth. Letitia brought it to Bay and me
when she set about cleaning that muddy coat of yours. Poor soul just can't
abide mud. She'd clean it from the ground if she could."
"Ahem, sister," Miss Bayberry said. "Keep with the topic."
Bunch sent Bay an annoyed glance, then continued. "Father had no one
but us to confide his discoveries in, and to teach. Seven Chimneys wasn't a
proper school like Selium, but it didn't keep him from his calling.
Teaching, I mean. That's why Bay and I are able to recognize arcane
magic like the brooch. It is probable you accidentally invoked its one
single power: fading out."
Miss Bayberry produced the brooch in her upturned palm, seemingly
out of the air. "We would like you to try to invoke the power of the brooch
so we can see how potent it is."
Karigan sat up startled. For all the sisters' fetish for propriety, and
seeming ingenuous natures, she sensed an underlying intelligence of
which she was allowed to touch but a small part. There was an intensity
about them, like a bright burning fire within, but hidden behind a facade of
proper social deportment, lightly sugared scones, and fine silver. Was their
simplicity a deception, so as not to betray their hidden wisdom? Or was it
that their father had taught them well? There was little about them, she
decided, that was simple.
"I'm not sure I can make the brooch work," Karigan said. "I don't know
how I did it the first time."
"Just try for us, dear," Miss Bunch said. "Try to remember what you did
just before you went invisible."
Karigan took the brooch with some hesitation. It was cold and heavy in
her hand, the winged horse ready for flight as ever. She tried to remember
the moments leading to her serendipitous ability to become invisible…
Captain Immerez sitting upon his white horse in the rain, his one eye
trying to see through her hood; a whip unraveling in his hand. She
shivered. She had no idea what had triggered her invisibility except a
strong desire to disappear.
"Oh!" Miss Bayberry straightened next to her, her eyes glittering. "The
child has positively faded."
"She is one with the upholstery," agreed Miss Bunchberry.
To Karigan, the room had become leaden, all the furnishings, and even
the fire, just shades of gray. Except the Berry sisters. Their eyes were as
blue as ever— as blue as blueberries— and color and light danced about
them, just like the colors of the trail that had led her to Seven Chimneys.
Why the variation? The grayness weighed on her, just as before, and she
wished herself visible again.
"We have learned much," Miss Bunchberry said.
"Child, your brooch isn't terribly powerful, just as we suspected. It gives
you an ability to fade out, or more accurately, to blend in with your
surroundings. It wasn't particularly potent here in the parlor because of the
amount of sunshine coming through the window. It must have been
extremely effective in the dark forest with all the rain and fog."
Karigan nodded, her temple throbbing. Maybe the terrible weather had
been an advantage in her confrontation with Immerez after all.
"I can see also that the device saps energy from the user. That is often
the fault with magical devices, and even innate power. There is always
some cost to use it, and for the trouble, it's often not worthwhile."
Karigan hooked a tendril of hair behind her ear. The brooch had proved
its worth already. She dreaded to think what would have happened if she
hadn't used it when she met Immerez. "I still don't understand how this
brooch… how magic works."
Miss Bunchberry poured another cup of tea to help "restore" her. The
steaming liquid extinguished the throbbing in her head.
"Of course we've just tried to explain magic," Miss Bunch said. "The
little we gleaned from our father's teachings, anyway. But one can't
explain magic, really."
"It exists," Miss Bayberry said, "as flowers bloom in the spring."
"As the sun rises and sets," Miss Bunchberry said.
"As the ocean rolls…"
"And as stars twinkle in the night."
"You see, child," Miss Bayberry said, "magic is. The world fairly glows
with it. Rather, it did before the Long War, and for a while afterward. All
we have left now are shards and pieces."
Miss Bunchberry folded her hands decorously in her lap. "Child, we
thought from all appearances you were an indoctrinated Green Rider. The
magic accepted you, and the messenger service does take young ones, you
know. Only Green Riders and magic users could recognize that brooch. To
the ordinary person, the brooch would look like something other than its
present form. Maybe a cheap piece of costume jewelry, or nothing at all. It
is a way of setting apart the false Green Riders from the real Green
Riders."
"I don't understand." Karigan had never seen the brooch as anything but
a winged horse. She had known it was pure gold— what kind of
merchant's daughter would she be if she couldn't recognize true gold?—
but she had thought nothing of it.
Miss Bayberry stirred some honey into her tea. "The brooch has
accepted you. It wouldn't permit or tolerate you to wear it if it didn't
perceive you as a Green Rider."
Karigan was aghast. "But it's just metal." And she was not a Green
Rider.
"With some very strange spells designed within it. I'm not sure how the
brooch accepted you as a Green Rider, but it may have been the duress of
the situation when young Coblebay passed his mission on to you." Miss
Bay tapped her spoon on the edge of her teacup. "Fortunately, the brooch
found you worthy."
Or unfortunately. Karigan hardly felt worthy of anything at the moment,
and such talk made her dizzy. "I have a lot of questions…"
Miss Bayberry reached over and patted her knee. "We understand,
child. You left Selium under undesirable conditions only to find your life
complicated by a dying messenger with an unfinished mission. I know my
sister and I have said some unlikely things, but we are trying to be helpful
for we have known some Green Riders in our lifetime— friends of our
father's— who shared with him what they knew of magic. They were the
best kind of people."
The sisters had said unlikely things, indeed! Ghosts? None that she
could see. And magic? Karigan's fingers tightened around the gold brooch.
She felt the urge to hurl it into the fire along with F'ryan Coblebay's
message. Why had she taken on his mission? I must have been out of my
head… or daft.
Maybe she could leave the message with the sisters and absolve herself
of all responsibility. Suddenly the brooch flared with heat in her hand, and
she dropped it onto the floor. She blew on her stinging palm.
"What happened, dear?" Miss Bunchberry asked.
"It burned me! I was thinking about getting rid of it and it burned me!"
"Arcane relics often have a mind of their own, and when they've made
up their minds about something, well, there is no changing them."
Karigan groaned. How could an inanimate object have a mind of its
own? She tentatively picked up the brooch. It was as cold and immutable
as ever, and only her still stinging palm proved the brooch had burned her.
Was she losing control of her life to a horse, a ghost, and a brooch?
"Poor child," Miss Bayberry said. "You ought to be settled into a life of
ease and courting as with all girls your age. But I can see in you too much
fire for such a life. Yours is an open road filled with excitement and, yes,
perils.
"Never forget you are a creature of free will. Free will is everything.
You may choose to abandon your mission. Choice, my child, is the word.
If you carry that message against your will, then the mission has already
failed. Do you understand?"
Karigan nodded. She had chosen to carry the message. Even F'ryan
Coblebay had given her the choice. To believe she had been forced against
her will to carry it was to admit defeat before the mission had even begun.
Team Played With: mingle
Memory Form: a ragdoll wearing your team's colors, with a little tag with the words "Are you Real?" Ask the question yourself to view the memory. The memory has up to four uses before the words on the tag fade off completely.
Someone prodded Karigan's ribs.
"Stop it, Estral. I'll go to class tomorrow." She moaned and rolled over
onto her back. The rich scent of loam filled her nostrils and the sun beat on
her face. She blinked her eyes open. Clouds smeared the sky like
fingerprints. This wasn't her dorm room.
Thump, thump. This time on her shoulder.
Karigan blinked again. Soldiers pursued her. Soldiers who would stop at
nothing to possess the message she carried.
She sat bolt upright, and the world spun. She gasped in terror, feeling
around herself for a rock, for anything with which to defend herself,
expecting at any moment to feel the sting of Captain Immerez's cruel
whip. But when the dizziness passed, two elderly ladies, not Captain
Immerez at all, stood before her. She rubbed her eyes to make sure.
"The child is alive," said one.
"I can see that very well for myself," said the other.
Karigan shook her aching head to make sure she wasn't dreaming, but
the two still stood there staring at her in fascination, lively eyes animating
crinkled elfin faces.
The plump one wore a dress of burnt orange and had a white apron tied
around her ample hips. A kindly smile rounded her cheeks into robust
humps. Her companion, in contrast, wore a sterner expression on her
narrow face. She was dressed in deep velvet green with puffy sleeves, a
black shawl draped over her shoulders. She leaned on a cane of twisted
hickory, which she had used to prod Karigan awake. They both looked as
if they were out for a stroll in one of Selium's manicured parks, not
standing in the middle of the wilderness.
"Do you think we ought to take the child in?" the plump one asked.
"She does look harmless and frightfully out of sorts. It would be rude of
us not to invite her to tea."
"That would surpass mere rudeness, I fear. It would be uncivilized. But
what of the others?"
"They must be invited, too."
Karigan glanced over her shoulder to see who they meant, but only The
Horse stood there.
"Letitia will have a thing or two to say about the mud."
The thin one rolled her eyes. "She always has a thing or two to say."
"The child does look like she's in need of a good scrubbing. She is very
muddy."
"I agree. It would only be proper for her to be presentable, and Letitia
wouldn't have so much to complain about." The woman then turned her
sharp eyes on Karigan. "Come, child, and bring your friends. It's nearly
time for tea and you mustn't keep us waiting."
The two ladies turned their backs to her and walked down a surprisingly
well-groomed trail. A well-groomed trail? The last she remembered was a
tangle of underbrush. She watched The Horse follow the strange old
ladies, his ears twitching back and forth as if he listened to their
nonsensical chatter rising and burbling like birdsong. The woman in green
halted and looked over her shoulder.
"Child, are you coming or not? It would be terribly impolite of you to
be late. Look, your companions are joining us."
Karigan looked, but still couldn't see anyone but The Horse. She could
only wonder who these eccentric ladies were and what they were doing in
the middle of the woods.
They appeared harmless enough, and The Horse seemed to trust them.
She snorted at herself: was she to rely on horse instinct this whole strange
journey? It was her stomach, though, that decided her. It rumbled in an
empty, cavernous way, and the thought of tea and cake was heartening.
Legs wobbly and head pounding, she climbed to her feet and trotted to
catch up with them.
The woods gradually grew more cultivated. The path broadened into a
full-scale road wide enough for two amply outfitted coaches to pass one
another. It was well maintained, too, compared to the North Road.
Someone had cleared dead wood and the snaggle of underbrush from the
bordering woods, lending the area an aura of order and balance unlike the
chaos of the untouched wilderness. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the road.
They crossed a stone bridge which spanned a chatty stream. Warblers
trilled in the woods about them. The pounding in Karigan's head subsided;
weariness lifted from her shoulders.
The road ended in a loop at a stately old manor house built of stone and
timbers. Several chimneys puffed balsam smoke into the air, and windows
rippled in the sunshine. Vines crept up the sides of the manor house,
blending it harmoniously into the woods. Several outbuildings of like
character, including a small stable, were spread out behind it. It was an
oasis in the middle of the Green Cloak.
The two ladies mounted the steps to the front porch which wrapped
around the house. "Welcome to Seven Chimneys," said the woman in
green, as if addressing an assembly rather than just Karigan.
Karigan counted the chimneys and came up with nine, not seven.
"It was built by our father long ago," the woman continued. "Come."
She extended her hand. A fine tracery of veins like rivers on a map looped
around her thin wrist and across the back of her hand. "Our servants will
see to your friend, the horse."
No servants appeared, but The Horse walked toward the stable as
obediently as if led. The two old ladies certainly were peculiar, but they
didn't seem threatening, and so she followed them into the house.
The floors were a light stained oak, and the walls were papered with
intricate, flowery designs. Rich hangings, anonymous portraits of men and
women garbed in armor or fancy dress, and hand-braided carpets adorned
each room they passed through, all miraculously unfaded by time or
sunlight.
Heavy furnishings were intricately carved, not a surface left untouched.
One such chair in the corridor had a back carved in the likeness of a tree,
its armrests and legs all leaves and sinuous, winding branches and roots. A
red velvet cushion covered the seat.
Cheerful fires glowed in each fieldstone hearth they passed, and
Karigan's damp chill began to be replaced by warmth.
"Letitia has set a bath for you, child," the plump lady said. "She will be
none too happy about the mud you've let in, but don't let her annoy you. If
she couldn't complain, she wouldn't enjoy life at all. Isn't that right, Miss
Bayberry?"
"Indeed. Mud season is the bane of her life, poor dear, and sends her
into a snit every year. We endure, however. It is impossible to find good
help out here." Miss Bayberry paused in front of a door and took a deep
breath. "Well, then, child, we shall lend you a nightgown and robe after
your bath. Letitia will see to the cleaning of your clothes."
They led her into a stone-flagged room where yet another hearth merrily
crackled with fire. A solitary window looked out into the garden. Sunlight
filtered through its upper pane, which was stained in the deep hues of wild
blueberries and cast liquid splashes of blues and greens on the slate floor.
Plumes of steam rose from a brass hip bath in the center of the room. It
wasn't what Karigan was used to, with Selium's porcelain tubs and piped
water, but in her present state, the hip bath looked heavenly.
Miss Bayberry pointed her cane at the tub. "Take your time, child.
Relax— you look thoroughly done in."
The two left, pulling the door shut behind them. The voice of the plump
one drifted back to Karigan from somewhere down the corridor: "I think
our etiquette has improved over the years, dear sister."
The other made a muffled agreement.
Karigan disrobed, untidily dropping her clothes on the floor. A bucket
of cold water and a dipper stood next to the tub. She ladled enough cold
water into the bath to make it bearable, but it was still shockingly hot as
she submerged.
Sprigs of mint floated on the water, the scent soothing and relaxing her.
Her body quickly adapted to the heat, and her taut muscles loosened.
Before she became too languid, she set about cleaning several days'
accumulation of grit from herself. Her long hair wasn't easily managed,
but she struggled with it till it was clean and fully rinsed.
She sighed blissfully and eventually dozed off. When she awakened, the
bath water was still comfortably warm, and sunshine still glimmered
through the window as before. Yet, she couldn't help but think hours had
passed.
Her clothes had disappeared, but the promised nightgown and robe
hung from pegs on the wall, a comb placed on a side table, and a pair of
soft suede slippers were on the floor below.
They do think of everything.
When she was dry, robed, and her long hair was combed out, the
pleasant smell of mint lingered on her skin and hair. As if on cue, Miss
Bayberry tapped on the door.
"Child, are you prepared for tea?"
Karigan cracked the door open and smiled. "Yes, I'm ready."
"Very good. Bunch awaits us in the parlor."
Bunch?
Miss Bayberry, leaning on her cane, led Karigan to the most elaborate
room of all. They sat on a plush sofa which faced yet another hearth. The
sofa's armrests were carved with floral patterns and hummingbirds.
Sunlight beamed through a broad window casting the room in a warm
amber tint.
The plump one, "Bunch," Karigan supposed, carried in a silver tea
service on a tray and set it on a table before them.
"We use the silver for special guests only," she said. "Not that we
receive guests very often, special or otherwise. Usually a wayward
stranger lost in the woods. I trust you found the bath satisfactory."
"Oh, yes— splendid!" It wasn't a word Karigan typically used, but it
seemed appropriate in this house of rich furnishings, and in the company
of these two ladies.
Bunch poured tea. "Honey and cream? No, not you, my dear Bay. You
know what cream does to your digestion."
Miss Bayberry hrrrumfed her opinion.
Butter cookies, scones, and pound cake were served with tea, and while
the ladies discussed the oddities of weather and gardening, Karigan's mind
brimmed and swirled like the cream in her tea, especially when Bunch
poured a fourth cup which she placed before an unoccupied chair.
Miss Bayberry noticed Karigan eyeing the teacup. "I am sorry your
other companion could not join us, but Letitia would not have him in the
house. She was adamant."
Karigan couldn't take it any longer. "Companion? What companion?
I've been traveling alone."
"Oh, my dear. You must be terribly unobservant."
"Or dense," Bunch said, not unsympathetically.
"I was referring, of course, to your companion whom you call The
Horse. I assure you that though he did not join us for tea, he is being well
tended by the stableboy."
"The Horse." Karigan shifted in her seat wondering if the women were
mad. "And the other?"
Bunch and Bayberry exchanged surprised glances.
"If you don't know, dear," Miss Bayberry said, "then it may not be our
place to tell you."
"Oh, come now, Bay. She will think us daft old fools. My dear child, a
spirit accompanies you."
A swallow of tea caught in Karigan's throat and she choked violently.
"Oh!" fretted Bunch. "I told Letitia to leave the nuts out of the scones."
Miss Bayberry struck Karigan soundly on the back.
"A what accompanies me?" she sputtered.
"My," Bunch said. "She's deaf, too."
"A SPIRIT!" Miss Bayberry hollered through cupped hands.
"Please," Karigan said, her back stinging and her ears ringing, "I can
hear fine."
"Ah." Miss Bayberry crooked a skeptical brow. "You are accompanied
by a shadow. A specter, a ghost, a shade. You know, dear, a spirit." Her
apparent ease with the topic was unnerving. "He follows you. You, or
something about you, binds him to the earth."
Karigan paled. She had heard stories, of course, of dead relatives
visiting those still alive and loved. There were many tales of spirits
haunting buildings in Selium, but she had never given them much
credence.
"Now you've gone and done it, Bay. You've upset the child."
"H-how do you see this spirit?" Karigan asked.
"Quite simply, the same way we see you." Bunch twisted her teacup in
her hand. "He wears green and has black hair hanging to his shoulders.
Two black-shafted arrows protrude from a blood-dampened back that will
not dry."
"He calls himself F'ryan Coblebay," Miss Bayberry said.
Karigan's hands trembled. How could they know what he looked like or
how he had died unless… unless they really could see him? They could
have gotten his name off the love letter which had still been in the pocket
of the greatcoat… The greatcoat had disappeared from the bathing room
with the rest of her clothes.
Miss Bayberry placed a comforting hand on Karigan's wrist. "Not to
worry, dear. Master Coblebay is only trying to watch over you, to see that
his mission is carried out. After that, he will pass on. As it is, he tends to
fade in and out. His link with that which is earthly is rather limited. One
day, you too, may see."
Karigan shook her head in disbelief. Here she was, in this incredible
manor house, with two old, eccentric ladies who could communicate with
ghosts. Either they were cracked, or they were seers, or some other sort of
magic was at work. "Who are you?" she asked. "And what are you doing
out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Miss Bayberry rapped the handle of her cane on the little table. Scones
and cookies bounced, and teacups clattered. "Bunch! Did we forget
introductions? Did we?"
An expression of horror swept across Bunch's plump features, and she
covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Bay. In our haste to please, we
forgot. It has been so long since anyone has visited. Can you forgive us,
child, for forgetting this one basic propriety?"
Karigan stared dumbly.
The ladies must have perceived her reaction as forgiveness, for they
both released sighs of genuine relief.
"Well, then," Miss Bayberry said, "let us introduce ourselves properly.
We are the Berry sisters. I am Bay and this is my sister Bunch."
"Our dear father, the late Professor Berry, gave us names that made us
sound like some of the local vegetation," Bunch said with a chuckle.
"Terms of endearment, really. They are but nicknames."
"We were born," Miss Bayberry said, "with the names Isabelle—"
"And Penelope," Bunch finished. "Though we rarely use our true
names."
"We loved our father a great deal. It was he who built this house in the
midst of the Green Cloak's wilds. He said it was the only way to absorb
the power of nature and bring to the wilderness an element of civilization.
What with no towns nearby, and the unpredictability of living near the
northern border, it was not an easy life, especially for our mother. Child,
there wasn't even a road back then."
Miss Bunchberry smoothed a crease out of her linen napkin. "When our
father built Seven Chimneys, he sought to provide Mother a respectable
estate. He spared no expense for her, and even brought along the entire
household staff from our original home in Selium."
"Selium," Karigan said. "That's where I began my journey."
"Are you a scholar?" Miss Bayberry asked.
Karigan frowned. "No." She hadn't been much of anything at Selium.
"Ah, well. Our father was. He was a master of many disciplines— so
many that he just wore a white uniform with a master's knot. None of the
single disciplines have white uniforms, you know, and Father was the only
one to wear it. Soon he studied disciplines that were no longer taught… or
approved of."
Miss Bunch leaned forward. "The arcane arts," she whispered.
A tremor ran up Karigan's spine. Magic was a topic to be shunned by
most Sacoridians.
"Who is telling the story?" Miss Bayberry demanded.
Miss Bunchberry pouted.
"Don't interrupt again." Miss Bayberry cast her sister a severe
expression, then cleared her throat and continued. "Father started to study
the arcane arts. He spent years poring over old books and scrolls in the
archives, first to learn the history of magic, then to learn its application.
The latter made the Guardian of Selium nervous. You see, after those
incursions made by Mornhavon the Black, who used such terrible powers
during the Long War, people have been phobic of magic, as if using it
would restore Mornhavon, or someone like him, to power.
"The Guardian finally demanded that Father either stop trying to
awaken magic, or leave the city. As you may have concluded, Father
chose to leave the school."
Karigan was incredulous. First ghosts, now magic. These two old ladies
must be daft. Her hands shook a little as she set her empty teacup on the
table before her.
"Was… was your father successful?" she asked. "At awakening magic, I
mean…"
"Yes and no," Miss Bayberry said. "He had no natural talent. Either you
are born with innate talent, or you can possess a device which provides or
augments powers. Mornhavon the Black had natural powers, but he
augmented them with a device called the Black Star. Father did try to
create magical devices, but he wasn't very successful because the magic
wasn't within him. The arcane arts are elusive. Still, he was able to
accomplish some things. I expect you know all about magic."
"Uh, no."
Miss Bayberry raised both brows. "But surely you must know since you
carry a magical device."
"I—"
Karigan looked at Miss Bayberry, then Miss Bunchberry. Their faces
were flat, their eyes questioning. The house creaked in the stillness.
"You are a Green Rider, are you not?" Miss Bayberry asked.
"No, not exactly."
The ladies exchanged glances and rounded their mouths into O's.
"Our question to you, then," Miss Bunchberry said, "is who are you?"
Karigan shifted uncomfortably in her seat under their intense gazes. It
was as if the room had suddenly iced over. She realized she would have to
do some fast talking or… Or what? What could these two possibly do to
her? With all the talk of magic and ghosts, better not to find out.
In acknowledgment of their penchant for propriety, she stood up and
bowed the formal bow of the clans: one hand over her heart, and bending
deeply at the waist.
"I'm Karigan G'ladheon of Clan G'ladheon," she said. "At your service."
"A merchant greeting," Miss Bunchberry said in hushed tones to her
sister.
Miss Bayberry remained unmoved, absently caressing the smooth
handle of her cane. "You'd best tell us your story, Karigan G'ladheon."
Karigan cleared her throat uncertainly. She glanced at the fire, finding
some comfort in its warmth and cheerful crack and pop. "I, uh, left Selium
rather abruptly." She took a deep breath. "I was a student there, and the
dean suspended me. Indefinitely."
The sisters maintained their stoic expressions. Somehow it seemed
terribly important to be honest with them. If she admitted her doubtful
background, they would be more willing to trust her. Still, it didn't make
the telling any easier.
"The dean suspended me because I skipped classes and such. He said
my, uh, attitude wasn't good." Blood crept up her neck and colored her
cheeks, and still the ladies stayed mute, neither condemning her nor
offering comfort. "The main reason he suspended me was because there
was this fight. And I won."
She could still see it clearly, the throng of students pushing and shoving
around the practice ring to see what was happening, Timas Mirwell prone
on the ground, spitting dirt, the tip of her wooden practice sword against
the back of his neck. You are dead, she had told him.
Miss Bunch lifted a brow. "You were suspended for winning a fight?"
"I beat the heir of the lord-governor of Mirwell Province." At the time,
she hadn't felt remorseful about challenging him to the fight, then
thrashing him. He had humiliated her in a number of other ways since the
first day she arrived at school, and she had finally had enough. But now,
under the steady scrutiny of the Berry sisters, she had a new perspective.
She felt childish.
"All right," Miss Bayberry said with a dismissive gesture. "You've
established you were not the most desirable student which, in the end,
caused you to leave Selium. Did you not think to face your problem?"
Karigan's cheeks grew warm again. "I was too angry. I ran away. That's
when I met F'ryan Coblebay."
"Ah," said Miss Bunchberry. "This is what we were wondering about."
Karigan wiggled in her seat and felt the weight of their gazes on her
again. But she had nothing to be ashamed of with this part of the story.
She told them of how she encountered F'ryan Coblebay, dying with two
arrows in his back, and anxious for her to carry his message to the king.
She was careful about what she told them— it wouldn't do to reveal more
than necessary. She wished she hadn't let the message satchel out of sight.
She finished with her narrow escape from Captain Immerez and his men.
The sisters glanced at one another as if mentally conferring. The room
warmed considerably.
"The spirit… that is, F'ryan Coblebay, wasn't able to tell us so much,"
Miss Bayberry said. "You've explained yourself quite adequately, dear
child. Yours is a brave undertaking. Many would have quailed at carrying
such a message under such serious circumstances." She must have noticed
Karigan's stricken expression for she added, "Rolph the stableboy
immediately placed the message satchel in the guestroom where you will
be spending the night. No one has broken the seal of the message. Your
other things await you there as well… except the device which is in our
immediate care."
"The… device?"
"Yes, the arcane device. The one that caused you to fade out when you
faced those brigands on the road. The brooch, child."
"Oh!"
"It isn't a particularly powerful thing," Miss Bunchberry said. "It may
even be more trouble than it's worth. Letitia brought it to Bay and me
when she set about cleaning that muddy coat of yours. Poor soul just can't
abide mud. She'd clean it from the ground if she could."
"Ahem, sister," Miss Bayberry said. "Keep with the topic."
Bunch sent Bay an annoyed glance, then continued. "Father had no one
but us to confide his discoveries in, and to teach. Seven Chimneys wasn't a
proper school like Selium, but it didn't keep him from his calling.
Teaching, I mean. That's why Bay and I are able to recognize arcane
magic like the brooch. It is probable you accidentally invoked its one
single power: fading out."
Miss Bayberry produced the brooch in her upturned palm, seemingly
out of the air. "We would like you to try to invoke the power of the brooch
so we can see how potent it is."
Karigan sat up startled. For all the sisters' fetish for propriety, and
seeming ingenuous natures, she sensed an underlying intelligence of
which she was allowed to touch but a small part. There was an intensity
about them, like a bright burning fire within, but hidden behind a facade of
proper social deportment, lightly sugared scones, and fine silver. Was their
simplicity a deception, so as not to betray their hidden wisdom? Or was it
that their father had taught them well? There was little about them, she
decided, that was simple.
"I'm not sure I can make the brooch work," Karigan said. "I don't know
how I did it the first time."
"Just try for us, dear," Miss Bunch said. "Try to remember what you did
just before you went invisible."
Karigan took the brooch with some hesitation. It was cold and heavy in
her hand, the winged horse ready for flight as ever. She tried to remember
the moments leading to her serendipitous ability to become invisible…
Captain Immerez sitting upon his white horse in the rain, his one eye
trying to see through her hood; a whip unraveling in his hand. She
shivered. She had no idea what had triggered her invisibility except a
strong desire to disappear.
"Oh!" Miss Bayberry straightened next to her, her eyes glittering. "The
child has positively faded."
"She is one with the upholstery," agreed Miss Bunchberry.
To Karigan, the room had become leaden, all the furnishings, and even
the fire, just shades of gray. Except the Berry sisters. Their eyes were as
blue as ever— as blue as blueberries— and color and light danced about
them, just like the colors of the trail that had led her to Seven Chimneys.
Why the variation? The grayness weighed on her, just as before, and she
wished herself visible again.
"We have learned much," Miss Bunchberry said.
"Child, your brooch isn't terribly powerful, just as we suspected. It gives
you an ability to fade out, or more accurately, to blend in with your
surroundings. It wasn't particularly potent here in the parlor because of the
amount of sunshine coming through the window. It must have been
extremely effective in the dark forest with all the rain and fog."
Karigan nodded, her temple throbbing. Maybe the terrible weather had
been an advantage in her confrontation with Immerez after all.
"I can see also that the device saps energy from the user. That is often
the fault with magical devices, and even innate power. There is always
some cost to use it, and for the trouble, it's often not worthwhile."
Karigan hooked a tendril of hair behind her ear. The brooch had proved
its worth already. She dreaded to think what would have happened if she
hadn't used it when she met Immerez. "I still don't understand how this
brooch… how magic works."
Miss Bunchberry poured another cup of tea to help "restore" her. The
steaming liquid extinguished the throbbing in her head.
"Of course we've just tried to explain magic," Miss Bunch said. "The
little we gleaned from our father's teachings, anyway. But one can't
explain magic, really."
"It exists," Miss Bayberry said, "as flowers bloom in the spring."
"As the sun rises and sets," Miss Bunchberry said.
"As the ocean rolls…"
"And as stars twinkle in the night."
"You see, child," Miss Bayberry said, "magic is. The world fairly glows
with it. Rather, it did before the Long War, and for a while afterward. All
we have left now are shards and pieces."
Miss Bunchberry folded her hands decorously in her lap. "Child, we
thought from all appearances you were an indoctrinated Green Rider. The
magic accepted you, and the messenger service does take young ones, you
know. Only Green Riders and magic users could recognize that brooch. To
the ordinary person, the brooch would look like something other than its
present form. Maybe a cheap piece of costume jewelry, or nothing at all. It
is a way of setting apart the false Green Riders from the real Green
Riders."
"I don't understand." Karigan had never seen the brooch as anything but
a winged horse. She had known it was pure gold— what kind of
merchant's daughter would she be if she couldn't recognize true gold?—
but she had thought nothing of it.
Miss Bayberry stirred some honey into her tea. "The brooch has
accepted you. It wouldn't permit or tolerate you to wear it if it didn't
perceive you as a Green Rider."
Karigan was aghast. "But it's just metal." And she was not a Green
Rider.
"With some very strange spells designed within it. I'm not sure how the
brooch accepted you as a Green Rider, but it may have been the duress of
the situation when young Coblebay passed his mission on to you." Miss
Bay tapped her spoon on the edge of her teacup. "Fortunately, the brooch
found you worthy."
Or unfortunately. Karigan hardly felt worthy of anything at the moment,
and such talk made her dizzy. "I have a lot of questions…"
Miss Bayberry reached over and patted her knee. "We understand,
child. You left Selium under undesirable conditions only to find your life
complicated by a dying messenger with an unfinished mission. I know my
sister and I have said some unlikely things, but we are trying to be helpful
for we have known some Green Riders in our lifetime— friends of our
father's— who shared with him what they knew of magic. They were the
best kind of people."
The sisters had said unlikely things, indeed! Ghosts? None that she
could see. And magic? Karigan's fingers tightened around the gold brooch.
She felt the urge to hurl it into the fire along with F'ryan Coblebay's
message. Why had she taken on his mission? I must have been out of my
head… or daft.
Maybe she could leave the message with the sisters and absolve herself
of all responsibility. Suddenly the brooch flared with heat in her hand, and
she dropped it onto the floor. She blew on her stinging palm.
"What happened, dear?" Miss Bunchberry asked.
"It burned me! I was thinking about getting rid of it and it burned me!"
"Arcane relics often have a mind of their own, and when they've made
up their minds about something, well, there is no changing them."
Karigan groaned. How could an inanimate object have a mind of its
own? She tentatively picked up the brooch. It was as cold and immutable
as ever, and only her still stinging palm proved the brooch had burned her.
Was she losing control of her life to a horse, a ghost, and a brooch?
"Poor child," Miss Bayberry said. "You ought to be settled into a life of
ease and courting as with all girls your age. But I can see in you too much
fire for such a life. Yours is an open road filled with excitement and, yes,
perils.
"Never forget you are a creature of free will. Free will is everything.
You may choose to abandon your mission. Choice, my child, is the word.
If you carry that message against your will, then the mission has already
failed. Do you understand?"
Karigan nodded. She had chosen to carry the message. Even F'ryan
Coblebay had given her the choice. To believe she had been forced against
her will to carry it was to admit defeat before the mission had even begun.
