Fragment of a letter discovered in the possesion of Enos Cinos, on the 23rd of August,Village of Tramck, Hegemony of Ryvensford, the night the unSeered orphan Mina disappeared.
Everything you need to know begins and ends the summer she reached her majority. Fifteen.
We did not expect her to question, when she was told the Warders would come to seer the Stones. We expected her to fear, to heed us, to bind herself more closely to us, and thus escape her fate. Instead, she took her life into her own hands. Cook says she slopped the hogs and rode into the woods on their backs.
We know this to be of the veriest nonsense. The deep woods run along the cliffs, and plunge into the sea. The one who was Mina is gone. Had she flown into the wood, her fear would have betrayed her, for we did send in the dogs, and how could a peasant child confound them? She has been swallowed by the sea or
The ragged edge of the paper trailed off there into bits of crumbling ash, as if it had been rescued from flames. Jitan Lublin set it back into the crystal tray, and dusted her smudged fingers on her sash. A velvet-footed page stepped forward with a bow, and bore the stained stash away for cleaning.
“And this is from a Warder’s report, Pani Lublin?” the Oneiroseer’s rumpled brows were knit in confusion.
“Not from his report, but from his personal effects, some of which had been put to the torch. This is all of substance which we discovered, Cielon,” the Bluestone Mage confessed, looking tired. “They had the shore searched, and found only these curious orbs. It is our belief that they are some kind of… dreamer’s spheres.”
Pani Lublin said the word softly, and with hesitation. The other green-robed mages and Oneriomancers in the quiet, glass-ceilinged solarium were about their business, tending the bright green plants which were the root of the most deadly toxins and potent cures in the Hegemony. Though they appeared to have attracted no listeners, Jitan knew to speak with care.
“Orbs.” The Oneiroseer pursed her lips. She of all the Redstone Mages knew dreams and dreaming best, and she was fractionally displeased that any new device would enter the Hegemony without her knowledge or consent. “Dreaming spheres?” she pressed. “And were these instruments brought into the Magesterium for further study? Why did you not bring them to me?”
“The Alchemy Master, Magister Woeller…” Jitan began regretfully, but her words trailed away, as an errant wind suddenly riffled the edges of her robe. The rich, salt tang of the sea filled the room, and with a slight, musical chime, first one orb and then the next appeared on the crystalline tray next to the Oneiroseer.
“I see he has finished his examination in his usually understated manner,” Cielon said dryly. “I assume he has deemed them a minor power, beneath his notice.”
“Perhaps not,” Pani Lublin said slowly, her eyes still alertly focused on the high walls of the conservatory. “Sister, we might best speak of this another time. I must take my leave.”
The Oneiroseer’s eyes widened as Pani Lublin rose gracefully and rustled toward a hidden alcove which housed a discreet doorway.” “Jitan…” she began, then felt another wind, not nearly so subtle, but a restless, malicious thing, stirring up dust devils and bringing with it the smell of the high desert. Cielon stiffened her back and exhaled. “Pan Friel,” she said sharply, and inclined her head infinitesimally. “You have come to trouble me, I surmise, with your claims upon the orbs.”
The Oneiroseer’s brother mage, Shay Friel, quirked his narrow lips in the parody of a smile. “Well met, Oneiroseer. Indeed I have.”
Seaside Shooter‘s evocative photograph, Beach Treasure inspired this story fragment, using pieces of an already constructed universe that is big on dreams and dreamers, and which I miss terribly – I MUST finish all of my “real” editing and reviews so I can start writing fun escapist nonsense once again. Find perhaps more coherent offerings with The Usual Suspects at Ficktion.ning
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