Disclaimer: The Obernewtyn Chronicles, along with all their characters, locations and situations, belong to Isobelle Carmody. All original characters are my creation.
Chapter One
The fire crackled, flames twisting into the faces and bodies of creatures both humanoid and fantastical, and I fancied I could see them dancing and running in the writhing flames. Screaming, now, the embers the teeth of a gaping maw … a log collapsed amongst them then, and I jumped, abruptly recalled to myself.
"Elanor?"
"Pardon?" I asked guiltily, and my father raised an eyebrow wearily, his face a study in exasperation. "I asked," he said pointedly, "whether or not you were willing to represent us at the next Council meeting. As things stand now, I am unable to attend myself and it is as good a time as any for you to begin to assume some more responsibility in this area – you have certainly attended Council often enough with myself and your mother to know what to do." He frowned, looking as if he was already regretting suggesting this, given my behavior this guildmerge, but he was right. With all of Obernewtyn busy with the harvest and training, neither he nor my mother could really be spared.
Mother was somewhat more – blunt, in her reprimand. "Whether or not we decide to send you Elanor, will, of course, depend on your ability to pay attention."
I flushed, and ducked my head, glad that she had restricted her communication to a private sending – glad also, that she was not truly angry. Given her coercive talents, that could be painful. I did not reply – mental communication was not allowed in guildmerge, but then, this was my mother, and she had never made a point of following rules.
"I think it a good idea. Elanor has certainly shown her capabilities many times in the past." Garth shifted somewhat, settling more comfortably back in his chair, attracting surprised glances from all around the table. As a teknoguilder, Garth rarely involved himself or his guild in Obernewtyn's affairs with the outside world, and his guildmembers followed his lead.
"That is, of course, supposing the councilors will listen to what she has to say." Roland pointed out, and Garth stared at him, startled.
"Why on earth would they not? She would carry a right to vote."
Roland sighed and spoke again, his voice a deep rumble. "I did not say they would refuse to allow her a vote, I said they might refuse to listen to any points she may make. After all, Elanor is very young still, and councilors are no more immune to prejudice than the folk they represent, even if they do not always speak it aloud."
"I don't see why that should be allowed to affect our decision in this matter." Interjected Gevan. "After all, by bowing to prejudice we only strengthen it. Sending a young, female misfit may open some minds on the Council."
"Or set us at a disadvantage."
"Yet Elanor is of much the same age as Elspeth was when she first began to treat with the rebels on our behalf, and age proved to be of little enough impediment in the case. Indeed, some of the councilors were that age when they began their political careers, or a little older."
Roland was frowning mightily. "There is a great difference between being an aid or scribe and sitting on Council, Gevan, and well you know it."
"And that is much the position Elanor occupies now! If all else fails, we can rely on the support of Dardelan, and Brydda if he attends."
I broke in. "I think I can manage to speak my own piece if I am sent, and I am thick-skinned enough to withstand the barbs of a Councilors speech, for sure. They have seen me there before, after all – and they only way they will learn other than any prejudice they bear is if they are shown otherwise, as Guildmaster Gevan has said."
A stunned silence followed. Indeed, I think most of them had forgotten I was even there, so caught up were they in the debate between coercer and healer. Then my mother grinned in amusement – and, I hoped, pride – and Garth gave a startled bark of laughter. "That settles it then. If she can silence us all and stop these old battleaxes in their tracks, I am sure Elanor can out-talk a few old Councilors."
My mother chuckled and, twisting in my seat, I saw why. Roland was still standing, mouth frozen agape at Garth's words.
"Oh, don't look so stunned, Roland. You are an old battleaxe, an I for one think Ela perfectly capable of handling this small duty." She glanced at my father. "Shall we vote, then?"
He nodded. "Unless anyone else has any contributions they wish to make…? No? Then by all means, the vote. All those in favour?"
He raised his own hand, as did my mother, Gevan, Alad, Garth, Angina, and their various guildens and wards. Avra whinnied her assent and I wondered with some unease as I raised my own hand what kept Maryon's approval from this request – personal opinion, or something more? But, I reasoned, if she had foretold something she had obviously not thought it dangerous or important enough to bring before guildmerge as an argument. I saw my mother's frown as she observed Maryon, and pretended clumsiness as I shifted papers and bumped her arm. All too many of Maryon's predictions regarding those close to my mother going on expeditions had resulted in some misfortune, and I did not want her remembering this and changing her vote.
"Well then," my father murmured, noting the results of the vote on a scrap of parchment. "The matter is settled. Elanor will go to Sutrium for the upcoming Council meeting on my behalf. We will discuss the details of what must be mentioned there next guildmerge." He added, for it was late and growing very cold, and then murmured unnecessarily to me, "Make sure you are there."
I nodded, but in truth I scarcely heard him. I was going to Sutrium!
* * *
I found out Maryon's reasons the next day. As farseeker ward, I often ran various errands for my mother, in particular to the Futuretell wing of the house. I relished the opportunity to do so, for I was good friends with the futuretell guilden, Bronwyn. She was only a few years older than I and we had formed a bond in our early years in the Empath's communal nursery. As we grew older, however, training and increasing guild duties had taken up more of our time and I often lamented the way we had begun to draw apart, year by year.
I ran into Gevan on the way there – almost literally, for I had come round a bend in the long, deserted corridor, lost in my thoughts, and had barely stopped in time to prevent myself running into his broad back.
"Ah, Elanor." He shifted to allow me to walk more comfortably beside him, cluttered for of things and messages to be delivered and done. "Running errands for your mother again, I see."
I grinned. Gevan, with his ready sense of humour, had always been a favourite amongst my many 'uncles'.
"A ward's duty. I probably have something in here for you as well. But I don't mind – mama's got more than enough on her plate anyway so why shouldn't I run errands? Besides, it gives me an excuse to get away from all the new students." I said, and Gevan laughed openly at the expression on my face. One of the first laws to be passed before the legalisation of Misfit Talents a few years before my birth was that which require all people in the land to undergo routine annual testing for Misfit Talents, and, if they possessed any, to be sent to Obernewtyn for a period of time to be educated in the use and ethics of their talents. Many, especially the younger people, stayed beyond the required period and basic training, happy to learn a new skill. All too many, however, simply endured until they could rush home again and reenter their old lives, eager to forget both Talent and Obernewtyn. Since the very first place these trainees were sent was to the Farseeker guild, before shifting to learn with the guilds that were formed around their various talents, my primary guild was also the place where one was most likely to prejudice, rudeness, and plain fear. My combination of Talents and the practise of assigning a tutor with the same talents as the student meant I seemed to get an extra dose of these negative sentiments.
"Ela?"
I started, realising I'd allowed myself to drift away on my thoughts. Again. Briefly the face of my latest student came into my min. Her name was Selwyn and she was a sulky, pampered thing of fifteen or so, the only daughter of a wealthy merchant, who had been appalled to discover all at Obernewtyn pulled their weight and had responded to all my efforts to nurture her slight farseeker-coercive talent with the same bored disinterest. The girl's sole inclination in life, as far as I could make out, seemed to be to snare a wealthy bondmate and bear children. I sighed and dismissed her image with a flicker of irritation.
"What did you say, uncle?"
He grinned. "I asked how my favourite niece is enjoying the idea of going to Sutrium."
"Very much – it will be nice to have a change of scenery, and I think I am more than ready to have some more responsibility with regards to Obernewtyn."
He smiled again, this time a little sadly. "Don't grow up too fast Ela," he warned, using my childhood pet name. "You want to enjoy the carefree ways of youth while you may. But," he said, and now his tone turned serious, "I hope you don't think I defended your fitness to represent us simply because I'm fond of you."
I shook my head. "Of course not. Indeed, I would be horrified if I thought you had. I hope I don't need to win people over using affection and sentimentality – above all, it would mean whoever it was wasn't think of the good of Obernewtyn first, and in such matters that must always be of the utmost importance." I gave a little frown of mock-gravity, only half joking, and he chuckled, reaching past me to knock on Maryon's door. Maryon herself opened it, bidding us enter in her airy, distant voice. I gave a courteous nod of my head and pulled a small package from my basket. "A missive from my mother, Guildmistress."
She took it with a nod, long, cool fingers briefly brushing mine. "Thank you, Elanor. Bronwyn is waiting for you." This last was spoken with the air of a futuretelling, although the message was quite ordinary, and not at all unexpected. She blinked and her eyes refocused, first on me, then on Gevan, waiting behind me. He pulled the door open. "Off you go, little one. You're not privy to everything yet, and I very much doubt you ever shall be.
***
Bronwyn was indeed waiting for me, on the steps that led up to the wing's main outdoor entrance in the late afternoon sunshine.
She looked up as my shadow fell across her, eyes dark with worry. I sighed and sat down beside her, long used to her abilities and her tendency to use it to predict my location and intercept me.
"What is it, Bron?"
"I've had a truedream about you – so has Maryon, although she deciphered it more clearly than I."
A vague apprehension settled over me at her words, but I took a deep breath and cocked an eyebrow at her in a manner I had copied from my father while still a child, speaking with a brusque sensibility.
"You'd better tell me what it is then. Unless you've decided that all I need to know it that you've dreamt something. Not very helpful, though."
She glared at me and snapped, "It's not funny Elanor!" with such an intensity that my heart thumped in spite of myself. Displays of any sort of emotion from experienced futuretellers were rare, and more often than not the reason for it worrying.
"What did you see then, Bron? Is it about my going to Sutrium? My parents? The twins?" My younger sister and brother, twins Hannah and Ewan, could be irritating, especially when they used their empathic talents to wreak small- and large-scale havoc upon Obernewtyn, but I loved them dearly for all that and dreaded the thought of any harm coming to them.
She regarded me steadily. "I have seen a fork in your path."
I sat back, bemused. "A fork? That doesn't sound too terrible…" I was tempted to make a silly joke regarding the dangers of cutlery, but her earlier outburst decided me against it.
"If you go to Sutrium. One path leads to new beginnings – happiness, but also great responsibility. The other… leads to danger, destruction, a threat to all you hold dear and – your own death. I am sorry, Ela." Her voice faded to a whisper. I say frozen, badly shaken by her words. A threat? What possible threat could endanger my family and all of Obernewtyn? And my death?
At last I moved, putting an arm about Bronwyn's shoulder, for she looked so miserable sitting there, head on her knees, that I was moved to compassion. She returned the hug and I realized she was weeping. At last I spoke.
"What if I don't go? To Sutrium, I mean."
She shook her head, crying, and pulled out a kerchief to blow her nose. "Then the threat – whatever it is – will be much reduced, but not entirely gone. This is an old wound in Obernewtyn's history, and it will not come to a head the way it will if you go – or at least, the chances of it doing so will be very much reduced. But if you do go, you have the chance to eradicate it almost completely."
I frowned at her. "Almost completely?"
She sighed. "It has to do with fear, and prejudice, and hate, and those will never be eradicated completely from life, no matter how hard we might wish or try. Don't tell your parents, Ela."
I nodded. I had already made up my mind on that score – if they knew, they would almost certainly forbid me to go to Sutrium, and if I could stop this, then I had a clear duty to Obernewtyn to do so.
And maybe, whispered a mean little voice, you can finally prove yourself to everyone and set yourself apart from your hero parents.
I quashed the thought firmly. I felt pride in my parents many accomplishments, both tighter and separately. And if it was a little difficult to live up to, then well – it was simply selfish of me to think that way.
"I have to go," I murmured, looking to where the sky darkened opposite a spectacular sunset. I rose and touched her shoulder. "Will you be alright?"
Bronwyn nodded without looking up, and I wished I could stay longer, but she was a young woman of nineteen and if I delayed any longer in delivering my messages mama would be sure to ask questions I could not easily answer, not shaken from my encounter with Bronwyn, and so, I picked up my basket and left.
