novelraw CHAPTER 138 – Against All Reason
CHAPTER 138 – Against All Reason
The Wardens of the Wilds took pride in being no crueller than necessary, and so once they had wrestled Saphienne to the ground, stripped away her possessions and clothing, and bound her wrists with thorned manacles that bit into her flesh, they were kind enough to remove their arrow and heal the wound in her shoulder. She was offered treatment for her head as well, her confusion worrying the attending sorcerer.
She retained enough of her faculties to recall the damage caused by Gaelyn. “No.”
The warden shrugged. “Your choice. Let me dress you.”
Despite the concern the woman professed for Saphienne’s welfare, the white shift she provided was utterly inadequate to cover her figure, barely reaching the top of her thighs.
Faylar had been led away by his mother during the scuffle; Saphienne expected he would be swiftly interrogated. She tried to reorientate herself as she was clothed, further impeded by the buzzing that blocked her magical perception, now emanating from the stabbing in her wrists rather than her shoulder. A review of the metal briars confirmed they were enchanted to restrain her specifically, suppressing her magic by countering her signature resonance. Whoever made them was intimately familiar with her spellcraft.
“…You can’t seriously walk her through the village like that.”
Saphienne closed her heavy eyelids as she heard Almon’s voice.
“We’re required to take her by the most direct route,” replied the warden at her side. “Blame Danyn for not bringing something in her size.”
“This is an affront to her dignity.”
“She stands accused of serious wrongdoing.”
“Accused!” Almon snapped. “She hasn’t faced trial! Take her the long way around.”
“Respectfully, Master Almon, you don’t have the authority to countermand our procedure for transporting magicians in custody.” The woman hauled Saphienne to her feet. “We’re taking her through the village. If you refuse to accompany us–”
“You’ve made your point.” His concession was growled.
As she was shoved back toward the west, flanked by other Wardens of the Wilds, Saphienne fixed her former teacher with a blank stare that showed only betrayal.
The wizard winced. “Wait!”
They made her halt.
Almon pressed the heel of his staff into the ground, shrugging off his cerulean outer robes. “She can wear these; the enchantment is purely cosmetic.”
“…Procedure says that–”
“As the designated representative of the Luminary Vale, I am demanding you treat our prisoner with the respect her mastery has earned. Dispute me in this, and I will report your insolence — and take your refusals as a personal affront.” He draped the voluminous mantle across his folding arms.
Sorcerer or no, the warden taking the lead knew better than to trifle with him. “Fine.”
Almon bowed to Saphienne when he drew near. His gaze lingered on the manacles as he threw his robes around her shoulder. “…I trust the pain isn’t too great? I argued that they were unnecessary, but Master Vestaele sided with the wardens.”
Saphienne blinked drowsily. “…Vestaele made them…”
“Even had I the necessary attainment, I would have declined to enchant them.” He clasped and buttoned the blue fabric so that she was well covered. “You are not violent in disposition, and you are intelligent enough to know you have been caught. This is not how your flight should have been arrested.”
What could she say? Even had she wanted to speak, the wardens were in earshot.
* * *
The hour was early. Of the few people in the groves, none paid heed to Saphienne as she was escorted by the wardens.
Dizzy from the blow to her head, she tried to think her options through. Even if she could free herself, she hadn’t memorised her spells for the day, and the wardens had taken her spellbook along with her other belongings. Her auxiliary tome was concealed at home, requiring that she slip her bonds, evade the wardens, then race unnoticed through the groves… all of which would be prelude to sitting and studying her sigils.
Almon was correct: she knew better than to attempt a doomed escape.
What about Hyacinth? If Saphienne could call–
No. Whether or not the bloomkith was detained, interference from a guardian spirit would have been anticipated; Saphienne wouldn’t endanger her lover. If Hyacinth still had her liberty, she would make herself known when an opportunity presented itself. The best course available to the magician was to wait for the wardens to lower their guard.
…They were unlikely to do so…
Through her pounding headache, Saphienne couldn’t help but guess at how she and Faylar had been caught. Where had she gone wrong? Had her discrete goodbyes been recognised? Had Faylar broken his own promise, and signalled to his mother he was leaving? Or had she been betrayed?
Up ahead, the village library was in view, and as she passed by Saphienne saw Filaurel unlocking the door atop the steps. The librarian glanced over her shoulder, then smiled in delight at the sight of Saphienne.
Whose heart shattered. “…No…”
Some paces behind his former student, Almon cleared his throat. “Go about your business, Filaurel.”
“Excuse me?” Filaurel placed her hands on her hips.
“Master Saphienne is summoned to answer to the Luminary Vale.”
She paled at the news. “…The Luminary Vale?”
“This is business for wizards; kindly do not interfere.”
“But Saphienne– if she’s accused of a crime, then the local consensus–”
“This is not your concern! You’ve done quite enough.”
Too much; the world was too much for Saphienne. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into the unyielding grip of the wardens.
* * *
Conjured light roused her from oblivion. Memories crept back, Alavara seizing her son by his shoulder–
Saphienne sat up in a rush. “Faylar!”
Seated a short distance away on an upholstered chair, Almon closed and set aside the book of poetry he’d been reading. “Your friend has been placed under house arrest.”
She blinked. Around her were largely empty shelves, illuminated by the enchanted globe that hung from the ceiling of the vault. Someone had dressed her in the red shirt and trousers she’d been wearing when she was captured, her blood cleaned away, the hole in the shoulder unmended. Saphienne had been sleeping on a pile of cushions within the circle she had previously noticed inscribed into the floor, the ring now glowing a scarlet-tinted orange as shimmering force made a dome overhead.
She inferred the properties of the binding from sight alone, her wrists still pierced by the ornate orichalcum that distorted her sense of magic.
“I’m disappointed in you.” The wizard stood. “Intellectually, I know this isn’t your fault… but even accounting for your impairment, what you have done goes against the magician I thought I knew.”
She watched him pace to a nearby shelf, lifting her spellbook to wave it at her.
“These were entrusted to you! I believed you were wise enough – selfless enough – to never misuse them.” He slammed the volume back on the shelf, where Saphienne also saw her secondary tome, alongside the scaled purse that held the coin gifted by Kylantha. “The way you spoke about Iolas… I couldn’t have imagined you would fall so low.”
Rubbing her head with her restrained hands, Saphienne was relieved to feel that the pain had subsided. She could think more clearly. “What do you believe I’ve done?”
“You needn’t pretend; I know the whole sordid story.” Angry glimmers were in Almon’s gaze. “Surely you had doubts? Why didn’t you come to me? You know of my friendship with Iradyn — I would have found help for you, discretely. No one would have ever known.”
There was considerable chance they weren’t alone… and even if the wardens weren’t listening, the vault was scrutinised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? I find that difficult to entertain. I refer to your delu–”
“Almon, leave the poor girl alone…”
Clothed in ritual gown of sunny yellow, his eyes and brow painted with golden, serpentine swirls, Tolduin climbed through the open hatch and crossed the floor to the barrier, his expression sorrowful.
“…Your upset is understandable, but Saphienne lies beyond reason. You can wait downstairs; I will keep watch.”
Almon glowered at the elder. “The contents of this vault are my responsibility — don’t try to dismiss me.”
Tolduin sighed, attention still on Saphienne. “‘Twas suggestion; merely a kindness. Your commendable grief has left you distraught.”
The wizard didn’t react, not outwardly.
Wordlessly, without daring to look upon Saphienne lest his emotions overwhelm him, Almon took his leave from the vault.
She waited for her old friend to go before she rose. “‘Beyond reason?’”
“I anticipate you will resent being told, but you are presently bereft of your sanity.”
Saphienne wished she could cross her arms. “Kindly explain.”
Tolduin smiled indulgently as he settled into the vacant chair, slightly amused to notice the collection of verse left behind. “Where to begin? ‘The tree bequeaths its roots to its saplings, for the seed does not fall far from the tree.’ The madness that once afflicted your mother has been passed to you, and in your distress you succumbed to its paranoia, fleeing from the people who would have helped. You were intent on leaving the woodlands — and you compelled your poor friend to accompany you.”
They didn’t know Faylar wanted to leave! “Ludicrous. We were going to visit his former girlfriend, Laewyn, in the Vale of the White River.”
“Saphienne…” Tolduin leant forward. “…You believe you’re a dragon.”
She squared her shoulders.
“Do you deny it?”
“I’m the descendant of a wizard named Kythalaen,” she answered, “and the dragon with whom she conceived her child. My heart beats with the blood of dragons; my arcana is the consequence of my heritage.”
He chuckled. “So Lynnariel descends from a dragon too? Or is it Delred?”
“Have an expert on dragons examine my mother’s blood. The clotting is quite distinctive.” She stepped closer to the barrier. “You saw mine all over my family home: didn’t you notice the way it sparkled?”
His frown was faint. “Peculiar though your blood be, this tale is farfetched. You have confused the name of your childhood friend–”
“No. Ask Master Almon about Kythalaen; ask him how she died. Kylantha was unwittingly named after her.”
He exhaled. “Around the bonfire we dance. Are you a dragon?”
“What’s in a name? I claim only what is substantiated by evidence.”
His smile was wry. “Evidence can be misconstrued; in sooth, what seems factual to the mad is fanciful. Whatever you have ‘discovered,’ your beauty and your grace are born of the woodlands. Elven thou art, Saphienne.”
“I don’t deny my elven parentage.” Delred was an elf.
“How careful you are with your speech!” He shook his head fondly. “Fret not, we possess testimony enough to see this through. What you did to Faylar will not be held against you: to treat you with contempt for your sickness would be wrong. Shortly, we will convene a conclave of elders of the Luminary Vale, wherein I will declare you unfit to stand trial, and remand you into the care of Our Lady of the Basking Serpent.”
True fear seized Saphienne. “…Into your care.”
“I am your priest.” Tolduin announced himself simply, as though reassuring her. “I will ensure the appropriate treatment is rendered, for I would fain see you reunited with your mother, and swiftly.”
“Who will be attending the conclave?”
“Myself as elder; Masters Vestaele and Almon will attend as fellow members of the vale, along with the wardens called as witnesses. I shan’t take long: seeing you suffering so is painful to all.” He rose and went to the shelves where Almon had been standing. “The sooner your mind can be set right, the easier we can rest.”
A single elder at a conclave of elders… “You’re deciding my fate? Alone?”
“Under advisement.” He lifted jewellery in pale gold from behind her pouch. “I wrote to the Luminary Vale with Master Vestaele to seek clarification on how the High Masters would that this proceed. Their response encouraged us to address your situation quickly, giving you no special treatment, but withholding no kindness owed. My judgement has their trust, and we have observed every order in giving notice for the meeting.”
The absence of specific instruction was, in itself, a clear instruction. “…You’re to pacify me…”
“Soothing your agitation is my foremost concern.” He didn’t catch her meaning.
Saphienne was horrified. She’d been delivered into the hands of the man who had ruined her mother’s life, and with his zealous faith in the ancient ways, Tolduin was poised to visit unfathomable harm upon her — all in the name of kindness.
“If I may pray you answer a question,” the priest proposed, holding up the floral web that had wound around her left hand, “what purpose serves this artifice? Your hand is mended, so we know, and whatever magic suffuses this gold is slight of presence. This is like no enchantment we have seen afore.”
She was very grateful that her occultation had sufficed, for Tolduin was holding the disguised sigil for her dragon’s fire, inscrutable unless key pieces were unhooked and the spiral flattened. “…It isn’t an enchantment. It’s a keepsake: I recorded the resonance of my loved ones in the metal, so I could always feel them.”
“Resonance?” His eyebrows raised. “Spells have resonance, but elves?”
“We are magical. We leave resonance in moments of great emotion…” She shook the bindings biting into her skin. “…The same is more noticeable in the spells of magicians, but everyone bleeds into the world, no matter how imperceptibly.”
His gaze had softened. “Beautiful. This craft befits you. Perhaps you will make more, when you are well again.”
“May I have it back?”
Tolduin hesitated…
“…Not yet.” He set it out of reach on the shelf. “Master Almon’s seal was used to shut you away, and only he or a High Master can open the cage. Fear not: I will leave it here, within your sight, where you may be assured ‘tis well kept.”
* * *
Imprisonment in a vault full of magical weapons – including her own spells – was supremely vexing, the irony not lost on Saphienne. Across the hour ahead, Tolduin kept vigil over her, accepting when she lapsed into silence and occupying himself with the poems, skimming through them without much enthusiasm.
Eventually he set the book down.
Her lips curled up. “…Not to your tastes?”
“Poetry is not among my arts; to my shame, I scarce appreciate the form.”
Absent any other way to pass the time, Saphienne puzzled over him. “I’m surprised. From what Athidyn told me, I thought you liked poems.”
His mirth was undisguised. “Whyfor did you think such?”
“You gave him a work of religious poetry — verses written in devotion to Our Lady of the Balanced Scales.”
His bemusement was equally unveiled. “Not I! Fair did I counsel him about priesthood, but such sermons as I quoted from were not lyrical. I prefer faith be unambiguously phrased, lest misapprehensions take root… though, beshrew my error, recent events prove I am far from an authority on proper forms–”
Tolduin was interrupted by the return of Almon, together with two wardens. “Noon approaches. We’ll bring her downstairs.”
The priest climbed to his feet. “Very well. Please ensure proceedings will not be interrupted by her raving: bind her mouth.”
Saphienne blinked. “What?”
“Alas, your past behaviour forewarns us: you shall not abide in peace,” Tolduin patronised her as he departed. “Be consoled, this is no punishment. I have forgiven your outbursts.”
* * *
Her struggles were futile. The wardens gagged Saphienne while Almon stood aside, closing his eyes as she was roughly pinned.
“Almon!” Her cry to him was hoarse. “This isn’t right! Let me explain! Let me defend my–”
“Cease resisting,” hissed the man holding her, pulling taut the cloth between her biting teeth. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
* * *
The parlour that had been her classroom was become now a courtroom, additional chairs procured from the meeting hall of the village. She was held in place upon the tall-backed chair by grips like unfeeling iron, Almon vacating his throne to sit in the row by the window, facing into the room where the drama would soon unfold.
Saphienne recognised the sorcerer who had healed her seated on the opposite side, together with Danyn, the warden whose plans to evict the goblins she’d strived with all her skill to thwart. He contrived to appear saddened by proceedings, but she beheld his sadistic satisfaction at her predicament…
Unlike the man who was standing by the door. Sundamar had his arms crossed, his head bowed, ashen in complexion. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Saphienne’s glare.
Vestaele entered from outside. “I’ve seen her off: the conclave won’t be disrupted.”
Almon wrung his hands as he studied his feet. “…She cares for Saphienne.”
“We mustn’t drag this out. The quicker this is resolved, the less unrest.” The master of fascination peered up the stairs to the sitting room. “Where’s Master Tolduin?”
“Praying,” said Almon. “He’ll be down before midday.”
Taking the seat beside him, Vestaele clasped her hands in her lap and then meditatively stared at the ceiling.
They were cowards. Neither of them could look at Saphienne.
…She wondered where Peacock had been locked away.
As the fateful hour crept closer, rain fell, drumming against the window in a rhythm that reminded Saphienne of her childhood days in the library. She ached to be back there with Kylantha, or to be loose outside, running through the door to feel the downpour on her skin, the wind in her hair… anywhere but the crushing reality that smothered her so lovingly against its heartless chest.
Damn Filaurel. Why wouldn’t she accept Saphienne, and embrace the unconditional love she was offered? Why couldn’t she be what the woman who was her child in all but blood most desired? Why did she have to lie? Why did she have to clip Saphienne’s wings?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Why did she have to be the thirteenth warden?
Saphienne refused to cry; and in the suffocation of her grief, the love set ablaze on her pyre was purified as it darkened, young and fair wood become the ready charcoal of hatred, keen to be lit by rage.
Graceful in his brilliant vestments, Tolduin descended, affirmed by his communion with his goddess, having shed the skin of doubt to emerge as inevitable and pitiless as the rising sun. He gestured magisterially toward the open doorway. “All attendees are here. Warden Sundamar, you may close the door.”
Resigned to his duty, Sundamar grasped the handle, closing the exit on Saphienne.
* * *
A foot caught the door.
Sundamar jerked in surprise and backed away. “…Elder Tolduin?”
The priest turned toward the entrance. “Who approaches?”
Saphienne stared in reverent hope as the way was opened, for silhouetted by the gathering storm was a figure in unblemished white, veiled in ivory and dry as bone long entombed within the Vale of Tears, stark in the festival gown she had worn when Saphienne had called upon her to claim what was rightfully owed.
Almon was disproportionately annoyed as he rose. “Eletha? Whatever nonsense you’ve heard from your daughter, this meeting is closed to elders! You have not been admitted to the Luminary Vale!”
Tolduin spoke softly. “But she has.”
His declaration stunned the wizard, who turned to Vestaele, the sorcerer equally astonished — though more composed as she voiced her uncertainty. “…Forgive me, Master Tolduin, but I do not recall seeing that name written in the hall of attainment.”
The priest breathed a laugh. “No; no, you wouldn’t have.” He strolled toward his fellow elder with hands clasped. “My understanding was that you do not participate in the affairs of the vale… are you claiming your authority?”
Eletha was tranquil, gliding into the parlour to meet him. “I have never cared for the titles forced upon me. I remain myself, myself and no other. I am here by right of age and attainment; I claim no more.”
“Then you would join this conclave as my equal?”
“As your adversary.”
An angry flush arose in Tolduin. “The door was closed–”
“Closing.”
Eletha did not move, did not speak, but the door behind her slammed shut as though blown by a gale.
“Now, it has closed. I call this conclave to order.”
Saphienne dared not breathe.
Yet Tolduin had a millennia of practice in appearing calm, and he affected nonchalance as he bowed. “Before we continue… what game play you? Should we not reach consensus, the vote will be extended to include our juniors. Masters Vestaele and Almon concur with me on Saphienne’s plight.”
Before she answered, Eletha drew back the ancient, ritual veil that had concealed her from the world, revealing a countenance that had lived eight thousand years of loss — and yet persisted. “Let them show us who they are.”
“Indeed!” He bowed again. “Very well. As your years exceed mine, I defer to you in addressing the labour of this summit. How shall we proceed?”
The master jeweller returned his bow, though far more shallowly. “You shall prosecute Saphienne; I shall speak in her defence. By convention the floor is first yours, and then will be mine.”
“As you wish. Please: be seated.”
There were no available chairs. Eletha walked to the window and sat upon the sill, disconcerting the wild-eyed wizard and sorcerer she loomed over.
The trial commenced.
* * *
I presume you know not the wrongdoing with which Master Saphienne is charged?
A fair remark. For her sake, then, I shall summarise. Master Saphienne stands accused of betraying the trust placed in her by her peers: she has attempted to leave the woodlands without consent, to kidnap the child Faylar by means of a Fascination spell, and to teach him the pursuit of the Great Art without the proper authorisation.
These grave transgressions are mitigated, however, by reason of her insanity.
Master Saphienne believes she is a dragon.
Should our conclave desire so, the testimony of her misdeeds can be recounted. I hold that debate on these matters would be redundant, as she is not competent to stand trial for her actions. The kindest outcome would be to forgo such unpleasantness and convey her into the care of Our Lady of the Basking Serpent, where she may be restored to reason: that is what I move for us to do. Do we have consensus?
* * *
“No.” Eletha did not rise to respond to Tolduin. “I object.”
He kept smiling pleasantly. “To bring us closer to consensus, I must inquire as to the basis of your objection.”
“Treatment of illnesses of the mind cannot be compelled unless Master Saphienne poses a danger to herself or others. Her innocence of the allegations is thereby relevant.”
Incredulity was writ on the faces of Almon, Vestaele, and the wardens; Tolduin suppressed his irritation with a wider smile. “A magician of the Third Degree who believes she is a dragon is inherently a danger.”
Now Eletha rose. “Substantiate that claim.”
“Must I? Those whose judgement is impaired cannot be depended upon to act wisely with the power they wield through the Great Art. Moreover, dragons are known to be uncompromising beasts, given to indulging their whims without regard for others. Were Saphienne’s condition to worsen, she could well hurt someone in her delusion.”
“I hear no substantiation, only prognostication.” She paced around Almon and Vestaele to approach where Saphienne hung on her every word. “Absent these allegations, Saphienne has done nothing to show that she is dangerous. She has risen to the defence of others; she has engaged in our consensus with respect for its ideals; and she has lived peacefully within the Eastern Vale. Unless you can evidence otherwise, your fear of her is baseless.”
Tolduin breathed. “Forsooth… absent these allegations. In sooth, they are present.”
“Then we have consensus: these claims must be proven.” She returned to the window. “Proceed, Elder Tolduin.”
* * *
Calling his witnesses, Tolduin laid out the events in detail.
They knew what Saphienne and Faylar had been planning. The pair were intercepted heading eastward, having been carrying provisions for far travel, cloaked from scrying by rings that Saphienne had enchanted. Faylar had been brought to Master Vasetele, whose mastery of Fascination qualified her to determine that he was acting against his reason, having been fascinated into obeying Saphienne. His subsequent statement to the Wardens of the Wilds confirmed her intention to take him from the woodlands and beyond the protectorates, there to teach him the Great Art.
Saphienne reflected that their travelling clothes were appropriate: they’d been caught red-handed. She supposed that Vestaele had invented the claim of fascination to make the justness of her punishment more convincing to the regional consensus, while also sparing Faylar — likely to ensure his mother brought the wardens along.
Eletha listened intently, making no comment.
Tolduin thanked Vestaele when she concluded. “That completes the testimony,” he confirmed. “Are we satisfied of her guilt, Eletha?”
“No. I have questions for the witnesses.”
The priest bowed and moved to lean beside Sundamar.
Observing Eletha as she came into the middle of the room, Saphienne beheld a transfiguration more potent than any transmutation. Head bowed as she set out, with every step she shed the crushing weight she carried within herself, moving more lightly, restored to youthfulness that matched her agelessness. By the time she was standing in the centre of the room she was smiling, sea green eyes sparkling and at ease.
“Thank you for indulging me.” She steepled her hands, reminiscent of Filaurel in how she carried herself. “My first questions are for Elowyn — I would like to better understand the sequence of events that occurred once Master Saphienne and Faylar were taken into your custody. Please explain what happened to them both.”
The woman she addressed was the sorcerer who had healed Saphienne; the warden stood as she was called upon. “We separated them. Faylar went with Alavara and Sundamar, walking here by the long route around the village. I brought Master Saphienne directly–”
“Before she was searched?”
“No; my apologies. We shot her in the shoulder with the arrow provided by Master Vestaele, then restrained her on the ground. We took her belongings from her, placed the restraints on her wrists, and then I removed the arrow and healed her. She was given a dress we brought, and Master Almon loaned her his mantle for the walk back, during which she fainted and had to be carried. While she was being settled in the vault by Master Almon, I reviewed her belongings with Master Vestaele, cleaned the clothes she’s wearing now, and then dressed her.”
Eletha nodded. “Please list the items of significance you recovered from her.”
“An enchanted pack containing travelling supplies and personal belongings; a spellbook; a pouch containing an adamantine coin; an odd piece of jewellery worn on her left hand; an enchanted ring.”
“Where is the ring?”
The warden brought the band of silver ferns from her pocket. “Here. Faylar was wearing another, the same but for the number inscribed inside it. This one is marked–”
“Five,” Eletha predicted.
“…How did you know?”
“Saphienne has a sense of humour.” She turned to Vestaele. “The band Faylar was wearing was the sixth, was it not?”
The master of fascination produced it. “…Yes. The only number of no magical significance in the set of six she made, though the others were–”
“Enchanted with perceptual veils.” Eletha took the ring worn by Faylar from Vestaele, addressing the gathered magicians as she slipped it on her finger. “Please follow me in exploring the effects of this enchantment, using whichever spell is most appropriate.”
Watching them all cast the Second Sense made Saphienne resent her enforced blindness, unable to sense anything but the discordant hum in her blood.
“An abjuration against scrying.” Eletha admired the piece. “Finely conceived. Returning to your narrative,” she said as she faced Elowyn again, “what happened next?”
“Faylar arrived with Alavara and Sundamar,” replied the warden. “I took his pack from him and searched it while he was examined by Master Vestaele; it contained much the same as the other.”
“And Master Vestaele, you established that Faylar was under the effects of an active Fascination spell?”
Saphienne’s former master in sorcery was a gifted liar. “Not active. I scrutinised its resonance to determine he had been subjected to fascination in the recent past, distorting his memories so that he believed he had consented to go with her.”
“Did you diagram the resonance?”
And well-prepared. “I did,” she answered, taking a forged sheet from her satchel. “This clearly shows both the form of the fascination and the signature of Master Saphienne.”
Eletha made a cursory inspection of the sheet. “How did he take learning that he’d been fascinated?”
“He was upset; he denied it at first, but then answered Sundamar’s questions.”
“Which leads to the testimony.” Saphienne’s advocate rounded on Sundamar. “Who else was present when Faylar was questioned?”
Sundamar rolled his shoulders as he made himself engage. “Master Vestaele, Alavara, and Danyn. We were in the sitting room; Elowyn was down here going through his pack with–”
“Thank you.” Peering around the room, Eletha arched an eyebrow. “It would appear that yourself and Danyn are the only wardens here who can speak to the testimony. We heard Danyn’s summary: do you have anything to add?”
“No.” Sundamar exhaled. “No, it’s exactly as he said.”
“And Elowyn’s account?”
“I didn’t see anything that contradicts what she told you.”
Eletha contemplated him. “This leads to a delicate issue. Master Vestaele is not invested with the same responsibilities toward testimony as the Wardens of the Wilds. You and Danyn are the only two wardens here whose statements on what was said are treated as primary sources.”
Sundamar was nonplussed. “Yes…?”
“Sundamar, you spent several years spreading rumours that Saphienne was responsible for the revenge attack on the girls who assaulted her–”
Sharp intakes of breath from everyone else present greeted her words.
“–And Danyn, you were responsible for the planned response to the goblins that Saphienne made efforts to prevent. Neither of you are impartial toward her.”
Tolduin scowled, placing a hand on Sundamar’s shoulder. “Eletha, are you impugning the honesty of the Wardens of the Wilds?”
She bowed. “No; I simply wish to hear from them an acknowledgement that I have not mischaracterised their relationship with Master Saphienne, together with an affirmation that the events they have described are true, and have not been unduly prejudiced.”
Saphienne grimaced around the gag. What was doing? She was losing the room!
Sundamar bristled. “I was wrong about Saphienne’s involvement; I told everyone I had spoken to that I was mistaken. Everything I have said here today is true.”
Danyn growled, “Just like my testimony. We haven’t lied.”
Elowyn defended her comrades. “I’ve never met Master Saphienne before today; the closet I came was years ago, when I watched over a house she was staying in. I’ve told the truth as well, and what they’ve said is factual to the best of my knowledge.”
“Thank you.” Eletha moved back to the warden-sorcerer. “I am completely confident in the truthful testimony of the wardens. Continuing, what happened when they were done questioning Faylar?”
“He was sent home with– excuse me.” Elowyn cleared her throat. “I searched Faylar as I had Saphienne, finding nothing of significance other than the ring, which I then gave to Master Vestaele. He was then released to his mother for house arrest, pending the outcome of this conclave.”
“You’ve been very patient: I have only a few more questions.” Eletha folded her arms and canted her head. “Where, specifically, did you find the ring?”
“He was wearing it.”
The jeweller swung between Sundamar and Danyn. “Was he wearing it when you questioned him?”
Impeded by her gag, Saphienne smiled as she understood.
Confused, both men nodded.
“And before? Did he take it off?”
“No,” said Danyn, echoed by Sundamar.
Almon caught what was happening before Tolduin, turning to Vestaele with dawning realisation that boiled into outrage.
Eletha sharply spun to her as well. “Meaning that Faylar was wearing this ring when he was examined by Master Vestaele. That calls into question your testimony…” She held up the ring on her finger. “…For this ring was made to evade divinations, and a capable magician can divine the location of known resonance. Master Saphienne is a gifted enchanter,” she decreed, stalking the woman who had betrayed her student, “and has been aware of the need to hide resonance since before she proved her apprenticeship. As every magician in this room but her can clearly see, the resonance of the spell I cast earlier is obscured by the ring.”
Vestaele had clenched her hands. “I’m familiar with her work. I pierced the abjuration.”
“Did you?” Eletha grinned. “Do it again. Describe the spell I have cast on myself.”
“I would need time to–”
“Name the discipline,” she goaded her. “Surely you can do that much?”
The master of fascination’s cheek twitched; she had watched the spell be cast. “Divination; you’re under the effects of the Second Sense.”
Eletha glanced to Tolduin, removing the ring. “Am I?”
Almon was rising to his feet. “…You…”
Tolduin was aghast. “…A potent Fascination spell…”
“A simple fascination to mellow anger, heightened to the Fourth Degree, which I cast on myself with deceptive manifestation,” Eletha concurred as she refocused on Vestaele, “while making gestures appropriate to the Second Sense. I do not require such a divination to apprehend spells, nor to tell that Master Vestaele is a liar. If you couldn’t perceive an active spell of this potency, far more pronounced in resonance, then your testimony as to Faylar’s fascination was fraudulent.”
Saphienne cheered, muffled by the gag.
Eletha tossed the ring to Tolduin. “Here is my defence: Master Vestaele transparently lied about Faylar being fascinated. For all we know, she fascinated him, surreptitiously, compelling fraudulent testimony to incriminate Master Saphienne. We can’t know: her interference would have been concealed from Elowyn by the ring. And even were she speaking honestly,” Eletha plunged on, “she herself testified that his memory had been altered, making his recollection of events unreliable.”
Vestaele took to her feet. “They were caught.”
“Doing what?” Eletha came to stand beside Saphienne. “They were going east, but they were still within the vale: the only pass leading out of the Eastern Vale lies to the north. Faylar testified that they were leaving, and that she would teach him magic…” She laid a cool hand on Saphienne’s shoulder. “…But even if his testimony were accepted, despite the glaring flaws? What he believed they were doing doesn’t matter. Master Saphienne may have lied to him.”
“That– that makes no sense!”
“So you say. But see things from Saphienne’s perspective: she confessed to her friend that he was being denied apprenticeship in order to punish her, and his response was to immediately declare his wish to leave. Knowing his passions, and that he needed time to cool before he could see reason, she spun a fable of taking him from the woodlands to teach him magic, while encouraging him to organise a visit to his recently departed lover.” Eletha patted Saphienne. “Then she made rings by which they could talk at length unobserved… whereby she might take the time during their journey to convince him to stay, employing unabridged candour. How do we know that Saphienne was not intent on talking him down? She hasn’t taught him magic; neither of them actually left the vale, let alone the woodlands.”
…And that was why Vestaele had fabricated evidence: to prevent Saphienne arguing that she had deceived Faylar.
Alas, Tolduin was unmoved. “Whether or not Master Vestaele… exaggerated in her testimony,” he diplomatically conceded, “Saphienne is yet deluded. In sooth, she considers herself a dragon — and did not deny her belief when I spoke with her. She requires the care of Our Lady of the Basking Serpent.”
“I disagree. Shall we take a vote?”
* * *
Formalities observed, Tolduin and Eletha reached an impasse, requiring another vote, in which Almon and Vestaele would participate.
Except Almon wouldn’t hear of it. “She lied! Master Vestaele has perjured herself before the Luminary Vale.”
The sorcerer was mild. “Careful, Master Almon…”
“Pending a full investigation into her conduct, I petition for her suspension from this conclave, lest its result be called into dispute!”
Tolduin played peacemaker. “Master Vestaele, our peer raises a wise point. For appearance’s sake, would you be of a mind to recuse yourself?”
She was beaten; even the wardens were seething. “Professing my innocence, I will nevertheless recuse myself to protect the esteem in which the Luminary Vale is held… as all magicians should.”
Mollified, though far from satisfied, Almon reclaimed his seat.
“Then we proceed to the debate.” Tolduin bowed to Eletha. “Let us dispense with the accusations of misdeeds levelled against Master Saphienne. Our learned peer has argued well for the importance of establishing the truth; I lament that the unfortunate truth we must yet recognise is that Master Saphienne has taken leave of her reason.
“Her delusion is no eccentricity, but rather contradicts the sanctity of being that is central to the ancient ways.” He indicated Vestaele. “To water a planted seed… how will the Luminary Vale be looked upon if Master Saphienne is allowed to profess so? What disorder will commence, should word of her malady spread? Be she in sooth but a child, she is no mere child. The danger her madness poses lies not only in physical threat, but in damage to trust in the vale, and to the ways ancient and magical we are charged with upholding, that we be upheld in turn.
“Master Saphienne is unwell; she requires care; no more need be said.”
Having been watching Almon closely, Saphienne was troubled by the stillness that had come over him during the short speech.
However, Eletha was ready.
“I have emphasised the importance of refraining from acting in fear.” The ancient among elders had no care for how Tolduin received her, honing her argument solely for Almon. “So too, we accept that the truth matters. Is reaching for the truth not our pursuit as magicians? Are we not pursuers of the unseen? Must we not reconsider our assumptions, in light of new discoveries?”
Her knowledge of him was unnerving.
“I raised to you that Saphienne lied to Faylar about taking him from the woodlands… but she didn’t only lie. Great lies are accompanied by truth.”
Reaching down to Saphienne’s bound wrists, Eletha lifted them, exposing the trickle of blood that seeped from the injuries where the briars pierced her skin. “See here evidence of Saphienne’s heritage. Were she not discredited, I would ask Master Vestaele to reflect on the resemblance between this clotting and that common to the blood of dragons.”
Vestaele narrowed her eyes, offering no confirmation.
“She is descended from a wizard I once knew; but for this glittering, she is the very semblance of Master Kythalaen, whose name is familiar to Master Almon.”
The hallucinator stroked his chin. “…Master Vestaele proposed so. I believe it was confirmed by High Master Lenitha. How does this relate to dragons?”
Eletha released Saphienne. “The records held by the Luminary Vale will show: I reported that Master Kythalaen plotted to quit the woodlands. I believed she was misguided; she had told me what she intended. I, too, could only conceive of her plan as the product of madness.”
Tolduin was intrigued. “I urge you, cease your prevarication. What was her aim?”
“Kythalaen wished to master the magic of dragons. She believed that through doing so she would find the means to break a powerful curse. To this end, she intended to seek the companionship of dragons, earn their trust, and if necessary, change herself to accord with their nature.”
All were stirred, Saphienne most of all.
“She was slain by dragons’ fire.” Eletha’s brightness had been dimming, and now disappeared completely, returning her to the dispassionate flatness of grief in which she had long abided. “I identified her body by the enchantments she had crafted. She was driven to distinction by her ambition; I do not doubt that she would have lain with a dragon had it served her design. Thus, Master Saphienne’s heritage is credible, and further substantiated by the potency of her magic, and the finesse of her arcana. She is not deluded, but a descendant of elves and dragons.”
“Even so,” Tolduin pressed, “she is an elf.”
Eletha’s retort was sincere. “How do we know?”
“You jest! One need only glimpse her fairness.”
“The truth is not grasped so readily; Master Almon commands hallucinations that expose the uncertainty behind our lives. What is to say that Master Saphienne is not a dragon within? That she is not a leviathan, governed by principles to which she adheres with unrelenting insistence?”
Mentioned, Almon murmured, “She possesses traits of character ascribed to them… and speaks their tongue with uncanny familiarity…”
“So too, drakes swear fealty to her.”
Vestaele froze, reconsidering past interactions with her pet.
“And is our vale not beset by minor drakes and wyverns? From whence come they, if she is not their inception?” Advancing, Eletha spread her hands before Almon. “What makes one a dragon? How many signs are required, before we reconsider the assumption that Master Saphienne was born an elf? In my youth, I was well-acquainted with draconic kind: many would use the Great Art to take on our semblance, walking unseen in our midst. Should I have trusted my eyes alone, they would have evaded me.”
Disbelieving, Vestaele was awed. “How old are you?”
“I was old when the ancient ways were young.”
Her claim roused Tolduin’s wrath. “Then thou shouldst know better! Thy tongue doth serve heresy’s lure — elves are not dragons!” His diction regressed as he became more agitated, and animated, closing on the jeweller. “Be we a people unto ourselves, whom trees do sheltereth and with whom spirits do walketh in worship, belovèd by the gods! Profanest thou ways ancient — speak no more! Seo æ beheald us, for þam we behealdað hie!”
Unrestrainable, not even by her own spell of calming, Eletha lost her temper, icy and venomous as she castigated the priest. “Ne dyrre gelæran me ofer þa æ! Ne woce þu giet þa þa we writon hie.”
He recoiled, blanching.
Just as abruptly as her fury was loosed, she reasserted self-control. “…Master Saphienne has her wits. She deserves her freedom to do as she wills, even should she choose to leave us. Be she an elf – as you insist – she would not be the first to depart in search of peace; and be she a dragon – as I believe – then her leaving does not contradict the will of the consensus.”
Tolduin drew a shuddering breath. “No. I will not let Lynnariel’s child wound her so. I vote that she receive the care she needs.”
“I vote against. Let her old friend be the judge.”
All regarded Almon with anticipation.
“…Your argument is persuasive…”
Beside him, Vestaele gave caution. “Master Almon… think of the vale…”
His gaze was conflicted. “…We don’t know she would have taken Faylar…”
Tolduin crossed to his other side. “Think of the upheaval, easily wrought by unwise kindness…”
“…Still, what you intend is drastic… and she was my student…”
And Vestaele knew then his weakness. “Defy the will of the High Masters, and you will never teach again.”
He fell silent.
Saphienne pleaded with her eyes, all but begging him to look at her — to see her.
But the wizard could see nothing in the world that did not proceed from himself.
* * *
She was numb when Eletha drew forward her veil, barely hearing her parting words.
“There was no hope you would be spared. What comes next, you will endure alone.”
Tolduin banished Almon to the vault with a whisper, while Vestaele bid the wardens leave — save for Sundamar and Danyn, whom she instructed to replace the pair who had held Saphienne to the chair.
The priest untied the magician’s gag. “We are adjourned. Do you wish–”
“Fuck all of you.” Her hatred overflowed. “Whatever you do to me, Tolduin, my mother will detest you for it with all her heart. You’re everything wrong with the woodlands — you clothe yourself in righteousness, in care and compassion, but your selfishness shows you for who you are. You’re a coward, a hypocrite, and an evil, pompous prick.”
“…No matter.” He was uncaring. “Your temperament will soon be repaired.”
Coming down the stairs, Almon was reluctant to approach. “Tolduin, should you not try more conventional methods before–”
The elder extended his hand. “This is the most effective solution.”
“The risk–”
“Is mine to bear.”
Trembling with swelling terror, Saphienne saw the enchantment Tolduin received from the wizard, recollecting having seen before the gemstone that sparkled with emerald and white within a silvery ring, unfamiliar with its function. “…A form of fascinator? I’m resistant to fascination.”
Indicating Sundamar and Danyn should steady her, Tolduin knelt down, rotating the gem so that it began to glow a baleful green.
“This isn’t a fascinator…”
He shone the sickly light into her eyes.
“…This is a sculptor.”
As the magic took hold, Saphienne screamed.
* * *
Mother,
This story was my favourite book when I was little. I stopped reading it after you introduced me to the fascinator — I was hurt that you spent more time with your fantasies than with me.
I’m not hurting any more. This book is my favourite again, because now I think of you reading it in secret while we were apart. Now I understand you well enough to see how the love you have for me will never be extinguished, for all that its flame may flicker in the winds of circumstance. You have always loved me; and I’ll always love you.
I treasure the copy you gave to me for my birthday. Should we ever be forced to part from each other again, I hope we will both read this story, and through it each feel the other reading with us, and remember our joy.
I’m proud of the woman you strive to be. Never stop being yourself.
Love,
Saphienne
Lynnariel’s Daughter
End of Chapter 138