REDWALL - A TALE OF THE NORTH
Prologue
The winter winds howled through every crack and gap in every wall and window of Redwall Abbey. Every sensible creature could be found in the main abbey building, seated close around the fires that did their job of sparing the inhabitants from freezing where they stood. Still, the spirit was jovial.
The autumn had yielded a good harvest, and the stores were packed and protected. The fuel supply was also ample; the Abbot had instructed every beast to start gathering firewood at the first sign of snow, and luckily it had held off for long enough for a great stockpile to be amassed in the storehouses. The place was warm, safe, and sound.
Outside another gust made the window shutters rattle. It was breakfast, but you wouldn't have known it from looking. The place gave the impression of an underground cave with all daylight seemingly shut out to keep in the warmth. The fires cast their eerie shadows on the walls, and all manner of rugs and blankets had been thrown about the place to try and ease the feel of the cold stone floor on bare paws.
Vera the squirrelcook sighed as she watched Friar Joseph walk into a table for the tenth time that morning. The poor mouse was short sighted at the best of times; in the half darkness he was practically blind. She caught site of some of the younger dibbuns chuckling at this spectacle, and shook her head. She knew she should probably tell them otherwise, but something about the situation told her it was best to leave things as they were. Besides, it was funny.
Feeling something tugging at her apron she looked down to see a young mouse called Relland staring up at her with a hopeful grin.
"Pwease miss Wera, can I have another of those lovewy honey oatcakes you make no nicely? Pweaase?"
"Relland, what have I said about using the voice? You're not a dibbun anymore young mouse, and no, you can't, so there" Vera replied, placing her hands on her hips and speaking to him with a small smile on her face.
Relland's face fell, and he skulked back over to the table he'd been sat at, muttering about it being 'not fair'. Sat on the same table were his friends; Tals, the daughter of the Skipper of Otters, Mello, a squirrel whose family came from up beyond the northern watch post, and Rinick, a mad march hare if there ever was one. All of the young creatures turned to stare longingly at the empty tray in Vera's paws.
Sighing again the cook took a seat at the table next to Tals.
"What's got you lot all down then? Surely you can't miss my oatcakes all that much"
"You don't know Relland" Tals replied, getting a jab in the shoulder from her friend.
"There's nothinnnng to dooo Aunty Vera!" Mello complained, banging his head on the table. Mello was one of those squirrels who treated every older beast as a member of his family, regardless of who they actually were.
The cook tutted and rolled her eyes. "You could go and listen to Maple tell her stories by the fire in the great hall" she suggested, causing all four of them to groan instantly.
"We ain't Dibbuns Miss Vera, no we ain't!" Rinick protested, the others nodding in agreement.
"Maple's stories are boooring" Mello moaned "We've heard them so many times we can mouth all the words before she says 'em"
"You could help the Abbot and Brother Maynard in the library?" the older squirrel suggested, this met with even greater moans and protests from the group. Vera looked at all four of them. When she was a young beast she could never remember being so bored and so unwilling to do anything at the same time. "Well, I would ask you to come and help in the kitchens, but you know how the Friar gets if he sees young 'uns running around the pantry"
"Yeah, if he sees us" Relland said, eliciting a laugh from his comrades, before being rapped across the paw with a serving spoon.
"Don't speak ill of your elders" Vera chided, replacing the spoon in its home tucked through her waistband. "I dunno, if it wasn't so cold you could play in the snow and rid us all of your sulky faces"
"I don't understand how we can have it too cold to play in the snow…" Tals pouted, spinning a bowl round and round while she watched it half heartedly.
"You heard the Abbot, it hasn't been this cold since…well, anybeast knows! Brother Maynard says the last time the River Moss froze was over fifty seasons ago" Vera said in reply. "Hey, consider yourselves luckily, you'll be able to tell this story to your grankids, about how you'll be the only ones who can remember how…cold…this…" her voice trailed off. She'd had an idea.
The young Redwallers watched her expectantly. She smiled, and leant in closer. "Here's an idea, why don't you go and see what Calo's up to?"
"Calo? But he's maaaad Aunty Vera!" Mello moaned again, and got a sharp rap with the spoon for it.
"Mello's right Miss Vera, he's cuckoo, off his rocker, gone down the wrong end of the short bush and come up on the left side of his uncle!" Rinick added, and then too recoiled from a spoon wound.
"Master Calo isn't mad, he's just a bit…eccentric. Besides" She leant in a little closer. "I need someone to deliver my last batch of honey oatcakes up to him…and they might even get an extra one themselves" The cook added slyly.
The demeanour of the youngster's faces immediately changed, and suddenly there was no shortage of volunteers. A few minutes later they were climbing the stairs up to the abbey's north wing, a bag of freshly wrapped oatcakes in paw and one in each of their mouths.
--The Mad Old Scribe--
Calo was probably the oldest inhabitant of the Abbey, older even than Old Shingo the hedgehog, but people tended to forget his because he was hardly ever seen. Even when he did leave the confines of his room he rarely spoke to anyone, but the youngsters had seen him crossing the grounds before with a far off look in his eyes.
The old squirrel had been known to disappear for days at a time, only to show up again in some far flung part of Mossflower. Skipper had apparently once seen him down on the beach of the great ocean, but no-one believed the ancient creature could've walked that far by himself.
He kept to his own private chambers in the north wing. He'd been there for longer than most could care to remember, so he wasn't bothered all too often by visitors. The only ones who made any frequent contact with him were the Abbot and Vera when she delivered his meals. He was supposed to be some sort of scribe, and yet the Abbey recorders would have nothing to do with him.
"Brrrr….It's real cold up here…" Mello chattered, drawing the blanket he'd brought with him further up his shoulders. "How much further is Mister Calo's room?"
"It's right here Mell" Tals said as they turned a corner and were confronted with foreboding oak door, closed resolutely shut. A draught seemed to be blowing out from underneath it.
Confronted with this rather imposing sight, the youngsters' previous doubts resurfaced. It took three games of rockpaw to decide who was going to knock. Relland lost.
He rapped lightly at the door, the rest of the group stood a good few paces back from him, just in case. "M-m-mister Calo sir? C-cook Vera said we ha- w-we brung you oatcakes?" the young mouse managed to stutter. Nothing was said for a minute, then a voice that was deep and rich with age said very plainly: "Come in"
Cautiously opening the door to the room, the four young Redwallers stepped into what looked like a different world. The room may have been quite large, and Tals suspected it was, but you couldn't tell from the sheer amount of stuff that was packed into it.
There were books yes, loads of books. Packed onto groaning shelves and stuffed behind boxes. Everywhere there were piles of them, books stacked on books stacked on books, only being held up by the books underneath them. But it wasn't just books, but papers, collected up into bundles tied with faded string and stacked up alongside and on top of the books surrounding them. Then there was everything else. Curious devices and items littered every available surface, and, what transfixed the youngsters the most, a whole array of swords lined up in a rack by one wall.
Making their way through this paper jungle, they emerged into a sort of clearing. In one corner was a bed, tucked up and sandwiched between walls and books and tables of all kinds. On one side there was a fireplace, glowing with the still warm embers of the night's fire. There was one window as far as Tals could see, but it hadn't been shuttered like the rest of them. The fire had gone out, and the only light in the room came from the tall thin window set above the bed and a few candles flickering here and there in carefully placed lamps away from the dusty paper.
There was a small table and some seats in front of the fireplace, including a very battered and well worn armchair. What occupied most of this space though, was the desk.
It was immense. It must've been at least as long as Skipper was tall, and maybe half as wide. All manner of drawers and holders covered it, along with inkpots, parchment, curios and candles, complicated drawing equipment and of course, books. And sat in front of all this was an old, greying squirrel dressed in a simple grey habit.
The youngsters stopped and stared in a mixture of fear and awe. If what their parents said was true, then this squirrel was completely insane. It was Rinick who spoke this time, his voice as nervous as Relland's had been.
"M-master Calo sir? We're her-"
"You're here yes, I can tell that young hare, unless I am hearing ghosts" The old mouse replied before he had finished. "Did you mention oatcakes, or is there another reason why you came to disturb an old beast and his work?" Calo asked, not turning to look at them.
"No sir, Aunty Vera said we was to come up here and give you these" Mello said, holding out the bag of oatcakes at arms length.
Calo turned around, and raised an eyebrow. The youngsters took an involuntary step back, and Tals could not suppress a gasp. The squirrel had a scar from his eye down to his jawbone, faded to a slivery grey now, like his fur. In contrasted with his rather soft expression and spectacles, however.
"Well well…good to know young Vera still cares enough about old Calo to keep him from starving every once in a while" Calo said with what might have been a smile, taking the bag from Mello.
He peered inside, apparently not noticing their recoil from him. "Hmmm, honey oatcakes…I loved these as a dibbun" he muttered, and placed them on the table beside them.
The group followed his actions with their eyes, still standing a good few paces away. The mouse chuckled a little to himself as he finally caught on to their hesitation. "Come now, I'm not all that scary am I? Just an old scribe surrounded by his books and his memories" Calo said, motioning around the room with his paw. "What are you young ones running Vera's errands for anyway? I would've thought you'd be causing some sort of mischief around the place. Youngbeasts still do that, right?" he asked.
They nodded, and Tals was the one to speak. "Well, Mister Calo, it's real cold outside, too cold to play, and there's nothing we can do inside…"
"Yeah, 'cept watch the Abbot and Maynard dust shelves, or listen to Maple's stories again…" Relland muttered, prompting Calo to laugh and shake his head. His laugh was biting, hard and deep, and surprisingly loud. They took another step back when he did.
"Maple's tales of wicked dibbuns who stole the candied chestnuts?! The evil sparrow who woke the abbey before dawn? Or what about the fearless Badgerbabe who rescued the abbot's habit from the orchard tree?! HA!" The squirrel laughed again, shaking his head. The youngsters didn't know what to do; the squirrel in front of them certainly seemed to be insane, that much was obvious. Calo eventually stifled his laughter and wiped what might have been a tear from his eye. He breathed deeply, trying to regain his breath in-between more laughter.
"Ha…I apologize, but that hare has never heard, never mind told, a good story in her life" Calo stated, watching them curiously. He couldn't quite figure out why they- then he realised, and with another chuckle leaned back in his chair. "You think I'm mad, don't you?"
None of the youngsters moved, and then Relland slowly nodded, joined by Rinick and Tals. Mello had moved to hide behind a pile of books, and peered round nervously. Calo merely nodded at this, his smile lessening somewhat, but still visible nonetheless.
"Yes…So I have heard" he said in his deep level tone. Relland shivered again, and it was only at that moment the youngsters realized just how cold the room around them was. Calo seemed to notice this, and waved a paw over to a cupboard that was nestled into a book created corner. "There are some blankets in there, I prefer to keep the room cool, the heat ruins the paper" he said as he turned back to the bag of oatcakes. "Now, it is very rare I get company, and even rarer I get oatcakes to share with it" the squirrel continued, and this seemed to brighten the faces of the youngsters somewhat. Mello even emerged from behind his protective stack.
"Um…Mister Calo?" Relland asked, putting up a paw.
"Put the paw down child, this isn't abbey school, what is it you want to ask?" Calo replied rising slowly from his chair at the desk and heading over to the armchair by the dead fire.
"Er…we- we didn't think you liked havin'"
"Having visitors? Oh, I like visitors plenty, I find it is them who don't like me" Calo replied, sighing as he collapsed into the armchair. The youngsters milled around, unsure of what to do. Seeing this, Calo motioned to the other chairs grouped around the table "Sit, sit! For star's sakes don't stand around like a bunch of statues"
They did, hesitantly. The ancient squirrel was scary to look at, and his directness was unusual for an abbeybeast, yet there was an air about him that invited interest, cautious though it was. Calo placed the oatcakes out on the table, not yet taking one for himself. Outside, the wind whistled above and over the ramparts, battering against the north wall of the abbey.
"I think, if I am to have the pleasure of your company, I should at least know your names" Calo said, looking between all four of the confused and still slightly dubious faces. He turned first to Relland. "You, young mouse, what is your name?"
"Relland sir" Relland replied weakly. "Relland Vinns"
"And you, young ottermaid?"
"Tals Deeptail, mister Calo" Tals replied. Calo's gaze moved along to the hare.
"Rinick Blieworthy the third sah!" Rinick replied, his usual enthusiasm returning somewhat. Lastly Calo's eyes fell on the other squirrel in the room.
"Mello Firbranch mister Calo" Mello said, still afraid of meeting his elder's gaze. He'd decided that Calo was not one of those beasts to take kindly to being called 'Uncle'.
"Good, good" Calo said, nodding his head. "And I am Calo Aevas, a name you will doubtless never have heard of" he added, with a smile. "Now, we are all acquainted, and I do believe it is time for oatcakes" With that he opened the bundle to reveal the still warm oatcakes fresh from the morning baking. He handed one to each of the youngsters and took one for himself, placing it on the arm of his armchair for the time being.
He leaned back, stretching his neck a little. Relland guessed it must have been from all his hunching over the desk. "So Vera sent you up here did she?" Calo asked, rolling his shoulders back into the soft cushion of the chair.
"Aye Mister Calo" Tals replied, taking a cautious bite from the oatcake. The old squirrel smiled, and nodded.
"I would've thought as much even if you had not said anything" He said, reaching over to a stack of books close to hand. "Did you know I was old even when she was a dibbun?"
The youngsters shook their heads, but smiled. It seemed odd to imagine the iron pawed abbeycook as a dibbun, yet it also seemed scary that Calo was that old.
"Oh yes, she was. Tell me, did you ever ask why beasts call me mad?" Calo asked, with a knowing smile.
The youngsters looked blankly at him, frozen as they were about to speak, and then looked at each other. Truth be told, no-one had ever explained anything to them about Calo apart from the fact he was, as Mello had put it, 'maaaaaad'. Seeing this sent the old creature into another fit of laughter, perhaps reaffirming this idea once again.
"I find it strange how these rumours survive, I'm mentioned so little these days it seems. Something I'm eternally grateful for." Calo said after recovering from the laughter. He now held in his hand a book from the stack behind him. It was battered and worn; papers of varying degrees of age and condition stuck out from it at odd angles. He held it up for them to see. "It is because, of this, that I am 'mad'"
"What is it?" Mello was the first to venture the question.
"It is a journal, my journal in fact, and a tale that I think would interest you more than any spun by a fastidious haremaid…"
--Calo's Tale--
Sat on the trunk of an old apple tree in the orchard, it occurred to me that there were no better places to compose a song, a thought that warmed my heart, as I had as yet to succeed in doing so all morning. If I sat here for long enough I was doubtless that inspiration would strike. Looking down at the parchment in my paw, I sung back the few lines I had jotted down, but largely making it up as I went. All the great bards did it of course…of course….
"To sayeth that the dawn,
Dawneth with the sun,
And bringes about the morn,
And rejoices all but one,
Of otterkinde was born,
And steals a currante bun,
Would beath…would be….er…."
With a sigh I decided it was perhaps better to leave the lyrics out for the time being, and decided instead to focus on tuning the lute that lay beside me on the branch.. Try as I might, all I could elicit from the strings, that had sounded so light and soft when I had been shown the lute in the trading camp, was a dull and resounding 'Twonggg'. I felt cheated by this. At the very least it should have been a dull and resounding 'Twanggg'.
Strumming the useless strings again, I watched as two hares who I didn't recognise sparred outside the training hall. It was then I heard the unmistakeable strains of Friar Bolles' voice booming across the abbey grounds.
"CALO WHITEBARK!! I'LL HAVE YOUR GUTS FOR BELL ROPES YOU YOUNG TREE JUMPING SCOUNDREL!!"
I could see the ageing dormouse barrelling towards my tree from across the grounds. Following in his wake were at least four other Brothers, most of whom seemed to be sporting some sort of bandage.
Without a second thought I dropped from the tree, lute in hand, and scarpered towards the east wall stairs. Taking a quick look over my shoulder I was both afraid and amazed at how fast the Friar could move, he was now only a couple of paces behind me.
Ducking to the left to avoid his paws as he lunged forward, I managed to make it up the stairs towards the eastern tower. Ahead of me on the wall I could see the unmoving figure of one of the wall sentries blocking my path, and I could hear the heavy footfalls of the Friar and his comrades. Risking a glance back I could see him nearly upon me again.
"I've got you this time! Don't move!" he shouted triumphantly. There was nowhere further I could run; the sentry was blocking the way with his spear haft, and on one side there were the battlements and on the other a drop down into goodness knows what. The only way to go was back.
Quickly turning on my heels, I just avoided the grabbing arms of the Friar and pushed past him and his cronies back towards the stairs. The Friar, however, was not so quick on his feet, and in his attempt to pivot on his sandals he ended up falling backwards. He grabbed the shirt of the mouse next to him, who grabbed the sleeve of the squirrel, who grabbed the belt of the otter, who grabbed the arm of the other mouse and then all five of them promptly fell backwards…off the wall, and into a hay cart.
The sentry didn't know whether to shout for help or laugh his head off. Having reached the bottom of the stairs, I began to jog back towards the abbey, but I was so preoccupied with watching my triumph that I failed to notice the outstretched forearm of the Skipper of Otters that blocked my path, and promptly ran into it.
The last thing I remember seeing was Skipper, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, before I blacked out.
--
--The next day, outside the Abbot's study--
--
I knew this bench. It was quite familiar to me. The first time I remember being sat on it was back when I was a dibbun; the very first day arrived at the abbey in fact. Back then I didn't even know where I was sat. I was one of the Abbey's orphans. My parents were either dead or long gone, and according to Sister Kara I'd been brought to the abbey when she'd found me stumbling around in the winter snow.
Back then the prospect of seeing the Abbot hadn't filled me with the same dread it now did. Behind the door I could hear raised voices, mostly those of the Friar, the Abbot and Sister Kara, but some otherbeasts as well. I guessed Skipper must be one of them. A big paw placing itself on my shoulder brought me out of my thoughts.
"Cheer up mate, you look like death warmed up!" That was my friend Orlo with his usual cheerful outlook on things. The heavy-set otter took a seat beside me on the stone bench with a sigh. "How many times have you been here now?"
"I used to scratch lines on the stone, but I lost count" I replied, giving him a sideways look. As for the 'death warmed up' part, well, I suppose he was right. I had a black eye from my run in with Skipper's arm.
"Y'know, you should just sleep here, it'd save time" Tara said while taking a seat opposite Orlo and gave me a pitying look. Millan took the seat opposite me and beamed. The squirrelmaid and hare were the only others in the abbey I considered to be my friends, though sometimes I found myself questioning the accuracy of definition.
"Heard about the Friar old chap, nasty business there" Millan came from a family of Long Patrol hares, and it could be easily heard in his accent. "Still, bloody brilliant use of the hay cart"
"Thanks, I think…" I replied, turning my eyes to the door when another round of shouting erupted from within. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone spoke for itself. "What're you guys doing here anyway? I've never known you to take interest until after I've had my ears burned off"
"Ah…yeah…er…about that" Orlo rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. From behind the bench Tara pulled out a bag and handed it to me.
"We think the Friar got hold of it before we did…" she said as I opened the bag, and pulled out the splintered neck of the former lute. Only two strings now connected it to what remained of the body. I plucked one dazedly. To my great surprise, it went 'Twang'.
"We thought we should give it to you first, y'know…as a confidence boost old chap" Millan said, and receiving a slight glare from Orlo. The others then remained staring at me, wondering why I hadn't said anything. I was staring at the lute in the same dazed fashion with which I'd plucked the string. It hadn't been a particularly good lute, in fact it had been awful, but for some reason I felt obliged to mourn its loss…
I was still there staring at it when Skipper opened the study door. He nodded his head to me, and I stood up. Looking round I discovered my friends had decided it was best to hide around the corner at the present time.
When I stepped into the study I saw the Abbot, sat behind his desk with a look of exasperation and indecision, part-hidden behind a book. Next to him was Sister Kara, who avoided meeting my gaze. Stood to the left of me was the Friar, who now sported several bandages, the most obvious one being on his left ear, and wearing an expression of loosely constrained rage. Also present were Skipper and Arrelo, the ageing Abbey Champion.
It was a full three minutes that I was stood there in silence, I can remember it was three minutes exactly, I counted under my breath as I tried to avoid the stares I was getting. Finally, the mouse behind the desk sighed and looked up, directly at me.
"Calo, I do believe you have something to say to Friar Bolles, don't you?" he asked in a tone somewhere between weariness and disappointment.
For a moment I stood unable to speak, and then my survival instinct finally kicked in. "Er…yup...I mean, yes…yes I do" With great reluctance I turned to face the glowering Friar. "I'm sorry, for everything I did…"
The Friar didn't say anything, he just glared at me some more. I didn't meet his eyes, but instead found myself wondering how he'd been able to move so fast with the stomach that threatened to obscure me from view should he get any closer. The Abbot coughed, and the Friar nodded, somewhat mechanically. "Apology…accepted…Calo…" he said through teeth not quite gritted, but definitely close.
I waited for the "But if…" from the Friar. I waited for the proposed punishment from Arrelo. I waited for Kara's failed protest. I waited for Skipper's disapproving speech. I waited for the Abbot's disdainful judgment. Nothing came. Was that really it? Had I escaped the gallows that the looks around me seemed to suggest? Was I really going to be allowed to walk from the study a free beast with all limbs attached and working?
There was another moment of tense silence while I weighed up this possibility against them suddenly tossing me out of the window. It was another minute before the Abbot spoke again; he appeared to have been deep in thought. "My brothers, and sister, would you excuse yourselves for a moment? I wish to speak to young Whitebark in private"
Thoughts of dismemberment once again rose in my mind. I glanced left and right to see where the whirring blades would come from. The left bookcase looked like the most likely item to be concealing painful death behind its rows of carefully alphabetized tomes.
The others in the room left one at a time. Each time I was passed by one of them more doubts circled round my mind. The only time the Abbot had ever spoken to me without another beast being there had been the first time I'd been in this room. When Sister Kara had finally left, giving me another pitying look as she did, and I was left alone the Abbot the old mouse looked up again and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Sit Calo"
That wasn't the voice I'd heard him use before. It was more tired, more drawn, and the warm tones that had previously embellished its edges had all but vanished. It only then struck me how old he was.
"Calo…how many times have you been in this study?"
Damn bench, if it had been made of wood I would have probably remembered how many carvings I made in it.
"A lot of times sir…"
"Is there any point in asking you why you decided to stack all those bits of wood outside the entrance to the Priory?"
"I was told to tidy the back of the woodshed Sir…I thought I'd make it look…nice?"
"Nice, hm. Did you have any idea that a ten foot stack of scrap timber arranged in a tower pattern would just happen to fall on Friar Bolles and his associates when they happened to leave the priory this morning?"
"No sir…I'd have thought the Friar could've seen where he was going…" I said with the greatest degree of honesty I could muster.
To this the Abbot merely sighed. Then, very shakily, he got to his feet and hobbled over to the window. "You have been here for the best part of nineteen seasons now Calo…and in that time I have seen you in this study more times than I have seen my own face in the mirror…" he said, staring out onto the Abbey pond below. "We always knew you were…spirited. In abbey school you spent your time climbing the curtains to escape from Sister Kara's teaching, when we tried to get you to learn to cook, you almost burned Cook Mabel's tail, by accident I am sure…"
I kept silent, staring at his back. I didn't know quite who he meant by 'we'. Him and Sister Kara maybe? He paused and turned to face me, and I can remember what I saw in those eyes; disappointment and sadness. "When you enrolled for training with the Abbey warriors…we thought you'd found your niche, as it were, but no…no…you quit…" he turned back to the window. "To become a 'bard' of all things…Which we were happy for you to do, after all, we supposed you might have finally figured out which path you would take in life…"
"And yet, every week I see you in here again. Now, anybeast is allowed to have their transgressions Calo, I would be a hypocrite if I was to say otherwise…"
"Sir, I never mean to do harm, I just have..." I tried to explain. It was largely true, the worst thing I'd ever done out of real spite was pour a bucket of water on a hedgehog who'd stepped on my footpaw.
"Bad luck? Oh, you always have 'bad luck' Calo…That's the problem, always unlucky" The Abbot said, rolling his eyes. He moved back over to his desk, shaking his head a little. "I have time and time again given you the benefit of the doubt; I have punished you, yes, but only lightly. Do not think this is a matter of making the Friar fall off the Abbey wall, though I must hope you knew of the hay cart's position. He could have otherwise…No…No, this is merely the end, of my very long and much tugged tether"
Here it was, the whirring blades beckoned. I idly wondered if he had to pull a lever or make a signal of some kind first. I was silent as I watched him retake his seat opposite me.
"I have been lenient before, and if Bolles is to be believed I have been lenient once again. Calo… I think it is your best interests if you were to leave the Abbey, for a while"
Forget the whirring blades, those words had cut through me quicker than any metal. I managed to choke out the one word I could. "L-leave?!"
"I have arranged for you to go north with a party of traders arriving by next full moon. I think travel will help get this…'fire' out of your system as it were" The Abbot replied with a sigh and a nod. "They are good beasts, and do a good trade in copper and tin I have heard" he added, though it didn't register with me.
"You're…exiling me?" I was beyond disbelief, staring rigidly at a candle on the desk in front of me.
"No Calo…We're sending you away for a while, to find out who you are, and when you do finally figure out what you are meant to be, you can choose whether or not to come back"
--End of Prologue--
Next update within the month, hopefully...