The meeting with the Queen-elect and it’s follow-up with Master Vetaris had left Vulk exhausted and slightly depressed. Not that either meeting had gone badly, all things considered, although each had left him feeling like he’d been rode hard and put away wet. No, it was the knowledge that he had one more potentially disastrous meeting ahead of him that had him in a funk.
When he had made the decision to accept the gift of Dügora Oakheart, to shoulder the burden of the old Telnori’s lifetime of knowledge of the magic of The Green, he’d done so on the spur of the moment. It was true that the moment had been a seemingly eternal one, outside of time, but he had felt the pressure of the life-and-death events awaiting him, and he had decided quickly. It had felt like the right decision, then and in the immediate days that followed.
But since his return to his normal life he had started to second-guess himself. True, the knowledge had probably saved his life, and his friends’, when the spell for neutralizing toxins had popped, unbidden, into his head; and he was intrigued by the possibilities that swirled inside his head even now. But he resisted taking more of that power, fearing the effect it would have on his relationship with the goddess.
And soon he would have to explain and justify his decision to fellow clreics, his superiors in the temple. If he was so uncertain himself, how could he hope to convince them of the rightness of his actions? He supposed he really ought to report to the temple here in Shalara, it being just down the street from his home, after all. But he preferred to take the matter to his home temple, in Lothkir, if he could.
Besides, Miralda had made it clear that she wanted him there for her Coranation, explaining that she proposed to make him her Queen’s Herald, if her marriage plans came to fruition, with a roving commission to be her eyes and ears as he went about his duties with the Hand. As such, it was important that he be there when she was crowned. But Kasira alone knew how the local temple would react to his news… he couldn’t risk being detained, at least until after the royal investiture.
So he could put off that third and worrisome meeting for awhile longer; indeed, he would have to, it was the responsible thing to do. Yes, he thought with a wry smile, that holds up plausibly enough. He could put it all out of his mind for now…
But after seeing Mariala back to the Green Tower, instead of heading home to Krendan House, he had gone to the temple to meditate and pray for guidance. When he finally went home, hours later, he felt more relaxed but no closer to an answer than he had before.
That night he dreamed…
•••
Vulk stood in a familiar wood, golden summer sunlight filtering down through the shifting green of the immense oaks surrounding him. He knew that he was dreaming, but also that this was as real as any physical reality. He was again barefoot, but this time he wore a robe in the purple and magenta of his cult, a golden belt around his waist.
He looked up at the sound of sudden laughter, and he saw that Dügora was again seated at a sylvan picnic under the largest oak in the forest. Dressed as before in only a green kilt, he now had a peregrine falcon perched on his wrist and he fed it tidbits from his trencher. Across from him sat a young woman with curling dark hair that tumbled over bared shoulders. She was dressed like a serving wench in a tavern, and her eyes sparkled as she looked up at Vulk.
She tossed him the golden ball she had been idly playing with, and he caught it without hesitation or fumbling. Her smile deepened.
“We were just speaking of you,” she said, gesturing him to come forward. He did, and sat at her further urging, the three of them now making a triangle around the spread blanket and its overflowing abundance of food.
“Yes, my boy,” Dügora rumbled in his deep baritone. “I thought we’d worked all this out the last time you were here, but it seems you still have doubts.”
“It seemed right at the time,” Vulk half-apologized. “But since then…”
“You fear that accepting the power of The Green will lessen you in My eyes,” the young woman said, her smile turning grave. “Is this not so?”
“Yes, Lady,” Vulk replied, staring down at the golden ball in his hand, unable to meet her gaze in his awe and sudden dread. He had known who this must be, how not? But the reality of it was so overwhelming…
“You are young yet, my child,” the goddess went on with a sigh. “The truth you must now learn usually come to men and women much later in life… if it comes at all. And some never wish to know more of the truth than they already believe they possess. But I think you are not such a one.”
Vulk looked up then to meet Her gaze, and looking into those eyes he sensed an infinite depth, like looking into a well of stars, and an endless compassion.
“What truth would you have me learn, Lady,” he asked, surrendering his will to Hers.
“Simply that I am not as you have envisioned of me, my young acolyte, that I am both less… and more.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You once had an argument, right here, with our host, did you not? A discussion about the nature of the Immortals, including me. You ended by agreeing to disagree, but now it is time for you to concede the debate. I will be blunt – you were mostly wrong, and he was substantially right.”
He could hear the laughter in Her voice, and even though it was a kind, gentle laughter, he flushed hotly.
“You are saying that you are not a goddess,” he asked roughly, and his voice shook. “ That you are not worthy of veneration, and that I have foolishly wasted my life in following you?”
“Well, your life is not over, Vulk, so I hardly think we can make a judgement about whether or not you’ve wasted it just yet,” Kasira replied gently. “And while it is true that I am not a goddess in the sense that most mortals mean the word, I hope that I am nonetheless worthy of the respect and loyalty of those who believe in and follow Me.
“I am Kasira, Goddess of Fortune, because that is what mortals need me to be right now, but I was not always Her, and I will cease to be Her when the need is gone. But I have existed for more than five thousand years, from the time when this world was a barren sphere of rock and water, and I will go on for – well, even we Immortlas don’t know how long we will endure… all things in this world must end eventually. Even We.
“But We were responsible for bringing forth life on this world, and, in some part, for the evils that now beset it. So We must play Our part in making sure life goes on, and thrives, until it can stand alone and eventually rise to join Us. For that is the great secret, Vulk – We were once as you are now, and you, as a race, are capable of becoming what We are now. But you are still very much children, and children need guidance, and protection…”
Vulk wasn’t as staggered as he thought he should be. He was intelligent, and he’d progressed far enough in the Church to be aware of many of the doctrines that simple lay folk were “shielded” from. None of them were out of line with what he’d just been told… although none he knew of were so completely… honest.
“Does every leader of the Church, of all the various cults, know this?” he asked after a moment.
“Many do, not all,” She answered gravely. “It’s usually a process, and few get so full and direct an accounting as you just have… they are more usually brought to such an understanding as they can handle, slowly, as gently as possible. I’m sorry that your awakening has been so abrupt.”
“So, my power as a cantor does NOT come as a gift from you,” Vulk asked, as his mind began to work again. “Out rituals are really no more than spells –”
“Oh no,” Kasira assured him. “The mental templates of the rituals bind you to my consciousness. In a sense, you are my eyes and ears in the world, along with your fellow cantors. And so the power flows from me to you, although you retain free will as to how to use it.” She smiled. “While I retain the right to veto those decisions, if I disapprove.”
“I’ve seen some bad clerics over the years,” Vulk said, considering this. “You must not disapprove of much…”
“Oh, I have to discipline my followers every so often,” Kasira laughed. “But children must be allowed to make their own mistakes. How else do they grow? We tend to step in only when the problem becomes serious, and the consequences broad.”
Vulk felt like he should bristle at being called a child, but his awareness of her immense age and power – like lightening bottled up in a jar – made him realize the characterization was true. He’d met another god once before, and it didn’t get any less awe-inspiring the second time, no matter what these beings called themselves.
“The things I represent, and those that the others represent, are universal human truths,” the Immortal went on, reaching out to take her falcon from Dügora. “The fact that I am not a supernatural personification of those things, as such, in no way diminishes their importance to Humankind… will you not continue to be my eyes and ears in the world of mortals, Vulk Elida?”
He realized then that it didn’t matter what she called herself, or how he chose to define her – she was, in fact so far beyond him in knowledge, understanding and strength… well, a cat might compare itself to him, and be closer to the truth than he would be in imagining himself as anything like this ageless Power. He knew he would continue to honor and serve his chosen patron, whatever she might be.
Kasira seemed to know his decision the moment he made it, without his speaking. She smiled, and rose to her feet. Dügora rose as well, and Vulk scrambled up quickly. He realized suddenly that the goddess was taller than he was…
“You choose still to serve me, my son, and I accept your renewed service. You will find that I repay loyalty with loyalty. Know then that you can serve me and still wield the power of The Green that is the legacy of the Oakheart… it shall be a narrow path you tread, but I trust you will find your way.
“When the course of events brings you to Lithkor, as they will soon enough, present yourself to your temple superiors there. You will not find them unsympathetic to your case, my son.”
And then she was gone, and the forest seemed suddenly empty. Vulk looked down and saw that he still wore the robes of his cult, but beneath them was the soft green under-tunic he’d worn when he first met his Telnori benefactor. His belt was now a twining of silver and gold…
“So, maybe now we can start working on you mastering The Green, eh?” Dügora laughed, slapping him on the back.
Vulk woke with a start, sitting straight up, the ancient Telnori’s laughter still echoing in his head. That had been a vivid dream! But was it really only a dream? It had seemed so much more real than reality… and it showed no signs of fading in his wakened state. He doubted he’d ever forget this one…
As he swung his legs out of bed, a small golden leather ball rolled off the covers and bounced to the floor, rolling to a stop in the corner. A sweet scent of celestial perfume lingered briefly in the air…
•••
The next morning the ambivalence Vulk had felt about his new powers was gone, and he quickly set about learning to master them. He felt no need now to share his situation with the local temple, content to wait until he returned to his home temple – he didn’t know when that would be, but he was entirely confident that it would be soon, as the goddess had predicted.
He still chose to think of his Immortal Patron as a goddess, preserving a lifetime of habit… and really, a ruby by any other name was still a ruby. He’d risen that morning after his vision, dream, whatever one wished to call it, the mysterious golden ball still clutched in his hand, as it had been when he’d finally fallen asleep again. Now he examined it more closely.
It seemed, in size and shape, to be like any of the small leather balls that children and youths were wont to kick and juggle with their feet, alone or in circles. But the leather, instead of the usual brown or black, was a shimmering golden color, like no leather he’d seen before, and the stitching was twined threads of green and silver.
He reverently tucked it into his belt pouch, uncertain of what else to do with it, but knowing that he didn’t wish to let it out of his possession. He spent the bulk of that day at the temple, praying and lending himself to help with daily services and lay petitioners seeking Kasira’s intervention. In the evening he began studying the book they’d recovered from the looters at Yalura, The Cycles of Toraz Revealed.
This became his habit over the next several days, broken occasionally by calls to attend at the palace over some point concerning the upcoming Coronation. Mariala handle most such issues, thankfully, but sometimes the Queen-elect had some task specifically for him. Two days before the ceremony the task was to find an appropriate hawk for the new Queen to give to Countess Thilisa, who was to become the new Lord of the Privy Seal.
Strolling about the market in Mangai Square, where the greatest concentration of beast masters in the city gathered, and the best, he had spent considerable time searching for the perfect raptor. He finally decided on a beautiful red-tailed hawk, of impeccable ancestry and well trained. As the hawk-master prepared to cage the bird for travel Vulk’s eye was suddenly caught by a bird he had previously missed. He stared in amazement.
The peregrine falcon sat on a high perch, a little away from the other birds, its head cocked with one gimlet eye trained steadily on Vulk. It was the same bird he had seen in his dream, or vision, which was still diamond-sharp in his mind. There was no mistaking those distinctive markings, especially the golden ring around the eyes. Kasira’s falcon…
“How much for that one,” Vulk had demanded of the vendor when he returned with the caged hawk, never taking his eyes off the bird. The man smiled and reached up to take the peregrine onto his leather-gloved wrist.
“A good eye, m’lord,” he said. “One of my finest birds, trained by the best in the business – my son, in fact! It – oh, ser, I wouldn’t do that, you’re not wearing gloves!”
Vulk had reached out for the bird, and before the vendor could draw it back the creature had flapped over to take a firm grip on his wrist. He felt the talons, but they didn’t break the skin, and he grinned suddenly.
“How much?” he asked, and the man named a ridiculous figure. Vulk drew out his purse and shook out the requisite coins into the surprised man’s hand. They’d haggled at length over the price of the red-tail hawk, but Vulk was in no mood to dicker now. He declined the man’s offer of a cage for his second purchase with an absent shake of the head.
He had planned to return directly to Kar Landsar with the Queen-elect’s gift, but he now decided he would take Cherdon home first. The name had popped unbidden into his head, and he smiled as he considered it. Whether it was the goddess or his own subconcious that had prompted it, the name was certainly a fit one – Cherdon was Kasira’s semi-divine avenger against those who would misuse Fortune’s gifts, the Balancer of Scales.
That night, with Cherdon watching from a wooden perch he’d set up on his desk, Vulk poured over the green leather bound book and drew up all he could from the dark pool of knowledge that bubbled in his unconscious mind, Dügar’s gift. Sometime after midnight he was ready, and he cast the spell that would bind the bird to him as a familiar…
He could feel the power surge up and out of him, and into the bird… and a corresponding, if smaller, surge back into him from Cherdon. He suffered a moment of vertigo as he seemed to see both the bird on its perch and himself seated at his desk, but it quickly passed. What didn’t pass was the subtle thread of connection he felt running between the two of them – it was strong, and he thought nothing could break it save the goddess herself.
The spell had exhausted him, and the falcon as well, and despite an urgent desire to test the limits of this new bond Vulk put the leather hood over Cherdon’s head, and drop himself into his bed, where he was asleep almost instantly.
He dreamed of flying that night…
•••
The next day he spent hours in the fields outside the city walls, flying Cherdon and testing the strength of their connection. The bird seemed unusually intelligent, and able to follow even fairly complex directions. If Vulk concentrated, he could perceive the world through the falcon’s senses – the eyesight was amazing, the sense of flying disorienting. He found it best to close his eyes to avoid the nausea that this double vision could produce.
He also found that the range of this ability seemed to be about a kilometer – beyond that he had only a sense of Cherdon’s direction and his general state of being. And when the bird stooped on prey, he felt a visceral thrill in his own stomach at the kill…
Vulk would have liked to spend another day working with his new familiar (training seemed redundant – the peregrine had started out well-trained and the connection with Vulk made him seem almost an extension of the cantor’s own will), but the Coronation took precedence. He reluctantly left Cherdon at Krendan House, in the temporary mews he’d had Cris construct in the attic.
The ceremony went off very well, with no problems or disasters. He had been in the inner circle of nobles and royal officials, along with Mariala and Toran, the latter having been part of the official Khundari delegation from Dürkon. The string of parties across the city that night provided enough distractions to keep his mind off his familiar, and the hot Queen’s Guard soldier on leave kept him distracted much of the next day as well.
But thereafter he spent the next several days in serious study and prayer, with occasional breaks to oversee Cris’ preparations for the big party he was throwing Draik, to celebrate his friend’s 27th birthday. He found that Cherdon was happiest when he could accompany him around town, and was perfectly capable of staying nearby, on rooftop or tree, when decorum prevented his entry into home, shop or temple.
Fortunately carrying a falcon about, while not common, was not an unheard of affectation of the upper classes, so people quickly got used to the Kasiran cantor and herald who went everywhere with his bird. And really, the creature was well behaved, never shitting inside… unless he took a dislike to someone, of course.
Draik’s party was a great success, and the Demon’s Rain meteor shower that night was a particularly spectacular one. Everyone missed Devrik, of course, but Raven seemed certain he was fine and they all raised a glass in his name.
Three days later Vulk and Mariala boarded the HMS Queen’s Pearl to sail for Lothkir with the marriage proposal delegation to King Dorikon. The voyage was uneventful, and the delegation was received by the Arushali Court with all due pomp and respect. After the initial meeting with the King and his advisors there seemed little for Vulk to do – Mariala was keeping an eye on things, reporting by her magic paper to the Queen, seeming to have an uncanny skill at reading the mood of people.
So on the second day he slipped away from the palace to visit his old temple and finally confess his current status to his superiors. His old mentor, Darik Arindel, former Master of Acolytes and currently Master of the Rolls, seemed pleased but unsurprised to see him.
‘We’ve been expecting you,” he’d said drily after the formal greetings. At his former student’s surprised look the older man had just laughed.
“If the flurry of omens, dreams, and two outright visions that have plagued us here in recent days is any indication, our Immortal Mistress has taken quite an interest in you. And I doubt this comes as any news to you, yes?”
Vulk was forced to admit that this was so, and started to expalin.
“No, no, save it for our meeting with the High Cantor,” Arindel had interrupted. “Might as well just tell the tale once, and she’s waiting for us in her office.”
The next two hours went smoother than Vulk had ever imagined they could. Apparently Kasira hadn’t been kidding when she’d said her temple would be sympathetic. The two clerics listened closely to his tale, including his vision of Kasira (though he left out her revelations of her true nature), then examined him closely in his mastery of the Toraz convocation.
Eventually the High Cantor dismissed Cantor Darik, leaving Vulk facing her alone across the expanse of her ironwood desk. The silver haired woman smiled as the door clicked shut, and absently handled the golden ball that Vulk had produced as evidence of his vision’s reality.
“Thank you for your reticence in front of Cantor Darik,” she said, handing the ball across to him at last. “He is not yet ready to hear the truths that I know you have heard… and from the Lady herself apaprently.”
“Um, yes, I… wasn’t sure how much of that I should repeat,” Vulk had admitted. “I wasn’t even sure if you –”
“Understood the true nature of the Immortals? You don’t get to this point in the Church, my son, without a practical grasp of reality.” She sat back in her chair and contemplated him.
“So, the question now is what to do with you. If you were simply a cantor with a bent for magic I would assign you to a Temple Sorcerer, to be trained in the proper use of your powers in keeping with Church orthodoxy, and be done with it. But your situation is not so simple… you have gained your knoweldge, and the power that comes with it, wholesale, as it were.
“Given your involvement in recent political and… other… events, and the direct, if annoyingly vague, guidance of Kasira herself –” she broke off at his surprised look.
“Oh yes, I know much of your involvement in the affairs of the Star Council, though I am not associated with them myself. Kiril Vetaris is an old friend, and he has kept me apprised of my star acolyte’s activities these past two years, as much as he can.
“So I think it best if I leave you in his capable hands. He will see to your proper training in the use of the T’ara as a mage, while I expect you to continue your training as a cantor in the temple in Shalara. And every so often I shall send someone to check up on you, just to be sure all is progressing as the Lady wants. When you have achieved true mastery, you will be made a Temple Sorcerer yourself.”
And with that Vulk was dismissed. He could hardly have asked for a better outcome, he thought as he made his way through the city. Feeling suddenly giddy and bouyant, he changed course and made for the Temple of Shala to visit with his older sister Kalyn. Of all his family, she might be the only one who could really understand what had happened to him. They’d always been close, despite the six year age difference, and it had been too long since he’d seen her…
•••
The next day, still basking in the glow of his reunion with his sister, Vulk was surprised to be summoned to a private audience with his King. Despite having met the man several times before, or at least been in his presence, this was the first time he would speak to him alone. He wondered what his monarch might want of him…
As it turned out, he wanted to talk about girls. Or one girl in paticular, Miralda of Nolkior. While females were certainly not Vulk’s strong suit, he felt comfortable talking about the new Queen, and quickly came to understand Dorikon’s purpose. Just as Miralda had said to Mariala and Vulk when she had questioned them about Dorikon, he wanted to have as strong a picture of his proposed bride as he could.
Vulk was relieved that he didn’t have to dissemble in the slightest. He thought Queen Miralda was brave, intelligent, compassionate and beautiful. She was grave and serious, but he’d seen her laugh enough to know she wasn’t without humor, and Dorikon himself was fairly grave and reserved, so he rather thought they’d suit in that regard.
When he was finally released from his royal interview he’d immediately sought out Mariala to fill her in on the details. No doubt Queen Miralda would hear all about it tonight…
•••
With the marriage contract successfully negotiated, the Nolikori party returned in triumph to Shalara eight days later. Having little to do in the actual negotiations, Vulk and Mariala had wandered the city and he’d shown her the sights and his favorite haunts. He’d introduced her to his sister, and the three of them dined out twice, before they sailed for home.
Back in Shalara, Vulk had resumed his studies, often spending hours in the new Library of the Hand that Mariala had set up in the Green Tower. Many of the books she’d inherited with the old building had to do with Torazin magics, and with the occasional tutoring from Master Vetaris, he felt he was making real progress.
It was a relief that Mariala’s young lady-in-waiting and de facto chatelaine, Seria, had finally seemed to calm down and get her act together. Her quaking fear of all things arcane had been very off-putting, making it unpleasant to visit the Tower – inconvenient, since that was mainly were the Hand was won’t to meet for business. But she seemed much better now, still a bit shy, but certainly happier. And she didn’t spill the wine anymore!
Engrossed in his studies, and his occasional training with Devrik (who had returned to the city the day after he and Mariala had returned), Toran and Erol (and it was still freaking him out to see the illusion of Erol alternating with the actual visage of Farendol), Vulk almost missed his 26th birthday.
But his friends hadn’t forgotten, and he was dragged out to a surprise party at the Swan’s Sorrow Inn, which Mariala had rented out for the night. Everyone was there, and he’d had a great time into the wee hours. There’d been a tense moment when the wee baby Aldari had made a grab for Cherdon, but the bird had remained stoic and refrained from savaging the baby. His mother had snatched him up and it was decided it was past his bedtime…
Korwin and Toran had presented him with a beautiful set of armor pieces that they had crafted together using Khundari techniques, giant worm secretions, and magic. It was a deep purple-black, inset with violet and gold enamel in an abstract Khundari pattern, and both lighter and stronger than anything he’d had before. In deference to his herald status (they didn’t wear armor in the performance of their duties, it was considered an insult) it was designed to be worn under his robes if neccessary.
Five days after his birthday, the Royal Wedding took place on the border between Arushal and Nolkior, and the new Kingdom of Ukalus was declared. Many honors and titles were granted on that day – Vulk himself was named a Queen’s Herald, with a roving commission to be her eyes, ears and mouthpiece throughout the realm, and beyond. A Nolkiori herald of good family and strong repute was named a corresponding King’s Herald, with a similar writ to serve King Dorikon.
After the wedding the Hand had two whole days to celebrate before being summoned to attend on the new co-monarchs and their War Council…