Chapter 17
Blessings
"So when are you boys leaving?" Geo was asking, when Ron and Harry stepped out of their neighbourhood's portal.
"Tomorrow night," Bill said. "The goblins don't need me to start diving for treasure until Monday, but I need the extra day to get used to the time difference with Guadeloupe. You and Hannah are leaving on Sunday, right Perce?"
Percy nodded. "Good thing Nomad Island's on Greenwich time."
"What time exactly are you leaving, Bill?" Geo asked.
"Ten o'clock in the evening. Why?"
"There's an exhibition Quidditch mach tomorrow between the Heidelberg Harriers and the Never Never Nagah, right Matt?"
Harry smiled. The Nagah had finally broken the hegemonies of the Thunderers and Warriors in Australia the previous season, and the proud owner had decided to show off his team in Concordia. Paradoxically, despite his ownership of the Nagah, Matt was still a loyal Thunderers fan, and when the Australian wizarding press caught wind of that fact and published it, Matt got tons letters from fans of various Australian Quidditch teams, praising his loyalty. Those Australians were an odd bunch!
"That's right. It starts at two," Matt confirmed. "And there's a five hour limit, since neither team wants to risk injury or fatigue. You could watch the whole game and still have time to pack."
"Five hour time limit?" Geo winced. "Lilia isn't going to like this. She was hoping to watch part of the game after work, if they were still playing."
"Tough luck," Matt said sympathetically. Everyone in the Order, and some people outside, knew how fanatical Lilia was about Quidditch. And even though George would only be the messenger, Lilia would no doubt vent some of her frustration on him.
Bill smiled. "Sounds like fun. My sons are always up for watching a Quidditch match. I'm not sure if I'll get Fleur interested, since there's no French team playing. She was also planning on doing some shopping tomorrow with Hannah and Angelina. Of course, I'm not sure Angelina will choose shopping over Quidditch when she hears about this match."
"What about you, Percy?" Matt asked.
"I promised Hannah and the girls that I'd go shopping with them. I'll have to pass."
"Charlie?"
"I'm there," Charlie replied eagerly.
Geo walked up to Percy with his arm extended. "If I don't run into you again before your departure, have a nice stay and a safe trip home."
Percy took his hand and shook it. "Thanks."
"I'll see the rest of you tomorrow, then," Geo said, before heading towards Upper Abaris Lane, where he lived.
"Oh, and not a word to Lilia about what we discussed at the club, all right?" Matt called after him, getting a bout of laughter in reply.
The rest of them proceeded into Lower Abaris Lane with Percy and Charlie soon peeling off to the right, and Bill and Ron walking to Ron's home on the left, directly across from Charlie's. Harry briefly waved goodbye before turning on his heel and walking a bit further into the street accompanied by Matt.
"Go get her, tiger!" he teased, as Matt turned left towards his home.
On the right, Harry saw Danielle Esklove-Hillman and her husband David sitting on lawn chairs in their front yard, accompanied by an older couple who were probably David's parents, judging from the family resemblance. They were all looking at a new nameplate mounted on the front wall. It read 'Hillman House', and Harry assumed that David and Danielle had opted to emulate their neighbours by naming their house. He knew that Ron and Charlie would be very annoyed when they found out about this, because that would make accentuate their own failures to name their homes. Charlie had tried to get 'Charlie's Castle' by Jasmine, but she had vetoed it, saying that a home's name should encompass the whole family. Harry and Ginny had decided on 'Potters' Place' about a year ago.
"Good evening, neighbours," he called out jovially.
"Ah, there he is, mother," David said, confirming Harry's earlier assumption. Though she wasn't saying it out loud, the middle-aged woman's broadcasting mind allowed Harry to discern her excitement as if she were. She couldn't wait to tell her friends that her son was Harry Potter's neighbour.
Deciding that it was the polite thing to do, Harry thought he'd greet them a bit more personally, and briefly contemplated whether to fly over the low wall or simply walk through it. In the end he decided to act like a normal wizard for a change and take the scenic route, opening the waist-high wooden door and stepped through, barely taking two steps before David's mother was upon him and grabbed his hand. "Osnat Hillman, delighted to meet you, Mr Potter."
"Likewise," Harry said, feeling eleven years old again. Sounds of scraping chairs and images of people swarming him flashed though his mind.
The father was a much calmer and distinguished fellow, and he briefly but firmly shook Harry's hand. "Steve Hillman."
Harry exchanged some pleasantries, and asked how long they would be staying. It turned out that the father was a broom designer looking for some fresh talent, a search that had taken him to Concordia, among other places. The mother worked as magical mishap solver for the main United States Ministry headquarters in Danvers, or Old Salem, as it was still known by the magical population. Harry politely refused a drink, asking for a rain check, before leaving the 'Hillman House' yard.
He was about to turn left and walk to his front door when he suddenly sensed that Ginny wasn't home, but across the street at the Wolfes' Den, so he crossed the street instead. The wards recognised him and the door swung open to let him in, and he quickly found Robert and Henry playing gobstones on the living room floor.
"Hi, Uncle Harry," they chorused.
"Hey, boys. Where are Heidi and Ginny?"
A sad expression appeared on Robert's face. "Upstairs in Aunt Heidi's bedroom. She started crying a while ago, so I called Aunt Ginny to come and talk to her. I think she's missing Dad again."
Harry felt really sorry for Heidi. Being exposed to the other families, complete with fathers must have been very hard on her. He rejected the idea of going up to the bedroom, knowing that he'd only get in Ginny's way. Besides, if Heidi asked him why he was there and he answered her that he'd sensed Ginny and wondered if she needed anything, it would only make things worse, since it would remind Heidi once more that other women did have husbands close by. And if she asked him whether there had been any word from Wolfe, he'd be compelled to tell her that he had felt Wolfe during the night, probably because he'd been drawing on a lot of power.
Why would Wolfe have needed all that power? And was he all right? Harry would have known it if Wolfe had died, but he had been able to feel the amount of strain that the power-up had put on Wolfe. Harry had never tried to harness so much power for such an extended period of time. He wondered whether it was possible to do so without hurting himself.
"Should I tell Aunt Heidi and Ginny that you're here?"
Harry gave the two boys a meaningful look. "No, boys. I think it would make Aunt Heidi even sadder if she hears that I was here looking for Ginny."
"Why?" Henry asked.
"Suppose you had a great broomstick, but lost it, and then another kid showed up with the same kind of broomstick, reminding you how much you miss your broomstick. Wouldn't you feel bad?"
"I guess."
"Well, your dad is like Aunt Heidi's lost broomstick, and if she finds out that I was here, it would be like seeing another kid with the same kind of broomstick. Only, because your dad is a person, your Aunt Heidi would feel a thousand times worse than a person would feel over a broomstick."
Henry nodded solemnly. "I get it."
Harry bent down and ruffled Henry's light blond hair. "Smart lad." Then he straightened up, turned on his heel, and left the Wolfes' Den.
He crossed the street to his own house, where he found his mother-in-law compiling a new photo album in the kitchen. Daniel was fast asleep in his pram, well within his grandmother's sight and reach, and Harry picked the moment to just stand there and stare at his sleeping son, marvelling at the resemblance he bore to himself, when he'd been that age.
Molly came to stand beside him. "His father's son, that one is."
"More than you know. He'll marry a redhead too."
"Ginny told me, but even if she hadn't, I would have guessed after seeing him and little Elisabeth feeding each other."
Harry felt a pang of regret for not having been there to see it. It had happened while he'd still been at the Citadel. Yet he realised that in spite of missing out on that event, he was truly blessed. At least he'd been around to witness the birth of his son, while Wolfe missed his daughter's. Harry smiled, remembering how Ginny had climbed out of bed only minutes after delivering Daniel to coach Heidi, who had been having a decidedly more difficult time giving birth to Elisabeth. Ginny had stood by Heidi's bedside, holding her hand while expertly cradling a nursing Daniel with the other.
He couldn't imagine how Wolfe coped with the knowledge that he was missing the lives of three of his children, while he desperately sought to rescue the fourth one.
x
By the healers' orders and Patrinia's insistence, Wolfe had taken things easy and remained in her tent for the rest of the previous day, spending the hours after his meal studying maps and whatever report logs and history scrolls the rebels kept, hoping to get an inkling of how they operated. More importantly, he'd wanted to find out how the duchess had managed to gain and retain the supporters that she inevitably had to have, since it was impossible to keep the entire population in line through terror. Patrinia had everything brought to the main area in her tent, beyond the curtain of beads, which was where Wolfe had spent the next few hours catching up on a few decades of local events, before finally going to sleep.
It was unclear how it all started, but the slavery he'd seen in Astirian was both cause and consequence. A scroll written by a local philosopher—some of its contents being unverified speculation—still painted a very likely picture on how the duchess and her early cohorts had sewn seeds of discontent, driving people to yearn for more, and take the land and resources used by others. When the contested resources had completely been reshuffled, the power hungry had no choice but to look outwards for new conquests.
The first ten years had been tumultuous, but things had settled down somewhat in the second decade. In the last three decades, the early victors comfortably lived off the efforts of the early vanquished, and the recent victors of the expansion waves kept selling the recently vanquished as slaves. The early victors now made up the upper and upper-middle classes of society, and would probably be quite keen on maintaining the status quo. Like the author of the scroll, there were some souls among the upper and middle classes in Astirian with the innate nobility and intellectual capacity to see and define the wrongs in their society. However, the outspoken ones had all been silenced quickly by a very efficient secret police, which was also responsible for keeping any upper class dwellers from getting any ideas of attempting to surpass the duchess herself.
In the 'newly colonised' regions, the duchess' agents still fostered mistrust between individual towns and villages to this day! Only people from certain races were allowed to live in certain towns, giving the agents even more tools to foster mistrust, by adding xenophobia into the mix. Direct trade between individual towns and villages was 'strongly discouraged' through various means, lest they develop better relations and overcome the carefully cultivated mutual mistrust. All trade occurred in towns sanctioned by the duchy, where the tensions and mistrust could be maintained by the duchess' officials. However, the main advantage and purpose of the centralised trade hubs, was that they allowed for easy monitoring of all transactions, which in turn made levying taxes on those transactions much simpler. And while the traders weren't all that happy about the additional taxes, the officials—ducal agents always native to the relevant traders' own towns—kept parroting that it was better than being ripped off by the inherently deceitful traders from the other towns.
When direct trade had been attempted, entire caravans had been completely and utterly destroyed by mysterious raiders—actually ducal troops tipped off by spies within the towns. After the first few 'incidents,' the greedier and more resourceful officials conceived the idea of ducal escorts, which would protect the caravans, for 'modest fees'. What irony! The people were extorted, but thanked their extortionists for it. Basically, the duchess had executed a perfect divide and rule scheme.
The digestion of the information and inner outrage he'd been feeling would have kept him awake through the night, had it not been for an exceptionally beautiful, blue-skinned Jann girl named Faísha, who had soothed his aching muscles with restorative ointments, worked in with a deep tissue massage that had relaxed his body completely but tensed a certain other part of him. Her seductively delivered yet very direct question on whether she ought to take care of that tension too, had prompted him to ask why she'd ask such a thing. Just before sleep overcame him, he heard her say that she used to be a slave-girl trained for that very purpose before she escaped and was taken in by some rebels who recognised her talents and taught her some healing arts.
Now, both Faíshaand Princess Patrinia were sitting in front of him, surreptitiously trading scowling looks that seemed universal to females of all humanoid races. Wolfe knew that he was fairly attractive to the opposite sex, which in the past had also led to similar situations, but this was ridiculous. Both women should have known better!
"Their romantic yearnings may not be completely due to your recently acquired legend-status, Max."
"What do you mean?" Wolfe mentally asked the symbiont while he kept chewing on a piece of meat that tasted vaguely like pork.
"I believe that's Tebo you're eating, and I mean that spending so much time in a magical world is bringing your demon blood closer to the surface, no matter how thin it is."
"Are you sure?"
"About your food?"
"Very funny. You know damned well what I mean," Wolfe thought, taking a bite out of a bread-like substance.
"Hey, a symbiont needs to have some fun too, and tormenting you will be my only source of pleasure for the duration of my stay. Unless you decided to part with your decision to remain celibate. As I've shown you with the food, I can tap into your senses and share your pleasure."
"Tough luck. I won't cheat on Heidi. Anyway, answer the question."
"Oh yes, the demon blood. Well, I'm afraid so, lad."
That meant that not cheating on Heidi had just become a lot more difficult.
"Will it affect my libido as well?"
"Any more than it already has? I can't be sure, but I don't think so."
"Well, that's something, then. Of course, it would be easier without the added temptation."
"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Jelly said genuinely.
Wolfe washed down his breakfast with a golden liquid that tasted like very sweet milk. "Don't worry about it. At least you've given me a chance to prepare. By the way, what did I just drink?"
"Qoi milk. Brace yourself for the rush you're about to feel."
Before Wolfe got the chance to ask him what he was talking about, a pleasant burning feeling spread through him much like how whiskey warmed the stomach, only the warmth was spreading through his muscles, obliterating the slight lingering ache and leaving him feeling completely energised. "Wow!"
"Did you like it?" Patrinia beamed at him. "I milked the Qoi myself."
"What does a Qoi look like? I've never seen a real one, nor any drawings, in my time here."
"I can't offer instantaneous translation if you don't know what it is called in your world," Jelly said.
"Describe it," Wolfe said to Patrinia.
She thought about it for a moment. "Well, it is a grazing beast, about half as large as an Abraxan—you know what that is, right?"
Wolfe nodded. Since he'd known that before he adopted Jelly, the local name for Abaraxan had literally been lost in translation.
"I could still tell you. You never bothered to ask the names of the things you've seen in your realm."
He mentally shushed the symbiont and nodded to Patrinia. "Yeah, go on."
"It has golden antlers, and bronze hooves, and—"
"Sounds like a Ceryneian Hind," Wolfe said. "They existed in my realm until about three hundred years ago. Anyway, thanks for the milk. It was just what I needed to get me started."
Patrinia blushed. "You're welcome."
"So what's next on the agenda?" Wolfe asked, as he got up and slid the Phoenix Katana through a loop in his belt.
"You will be presented to the people outside, and the leaders from the other camps. Holly flew them in overnight." She drew the flap that covered the tent's entrance aside and gestured for him to step outside. He did so, and for the first time he got a good look at the marsh.
Through the thick wisps of morning fog he saw several adjacent islands with tents and huts on them, but he couldn't see beyond them. Turning around, he could see two other tents beside Patrinia's on their island. On the edge of their island, half on land and half in the shallow water, he saw one of the enormous mangroves he had seen flashing by during Holly's descent. It was twice as tall and thick as a baobab tree, and some fairly steep stairs crept along the trunk until it reached a platform near the top. That was where Patrinia led him to, for there was a sturdy suspension bridge made of ropes and planks to walk on, connecting that platform to another one on a different treetop.
With Patrinia in the lead and Faísha bringing up the rear, Wolfe spent the next fifteen minutes walking from platform to platform over a dozen bridges. Occasionally he could see the tops of tents and huts poking through the fog, and he heard some movement below him, but the camp seemed fairly deserted until they reached a platform which seemed to be the head of a larger bridge that was supported by massive pylons. His enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up hushed murmurs in the distance, and the volume increased over the next twenty minutes, as they crossed more of the large bridges and got closer to their destination.
Finally they reached a platform where Patrinia led him down a flight of stairs again, and at the bottom there was an island with a massive stone causeway that disappeared into a wall of fog, which swirled in a way that made it evident that it wasn't a natural phenomenon.
"Why the magical fog cover?" Wolfe asked, while they marched onto the causeway.
"It isn't a cover. It is the result of all the fog from the area we are about to enter being forced outside it. This is always done when an assembly is held, so everyone can see the one who is speaking," Faísha explained. "But when there is no assembly, the fog is allowed to drift within."
Soon they ploughed into the fog, and Wolfe remained close to Patrinia so as not to lose her in the densest cloud of fog he had ever been in. They kept on walking, and after a while Wolfe noticed that Patrinia's gaze angled downwards, following moss-green painted dots on the cobblestone surface, which explained how she was able to walk in a straight line in the fog. Meanwhile, the murmurs had been getting louder and louder, and Wolfe knew there had to be several thousand people on the other side of the fog, located less than two hundred yards away now, give or take fifty, due to the effects of acoustics. Ten steps or so later they were out of the fog, and Wolfe saw a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks and took his breath away.
At a distance of a hundred yards there was an enormous entrance pavilion that measured at least two hundred and fifty yards wide. The roof over its centre was a curved dome reminiscent of the Taj Mahal, and two similar but smaller domes covered the rest of the building. It was an elaborate gateway to whatever lay behind the walls that flanked the pavilion, spanning roughly another seven hundred yards in either direction. Portions of five towers rising over the twenty-foot high walls were the only structures Wolfe could see from his vantage point. However, he also saw the same type of enormous mangrove trees flanking the sides of the compound at regular intervals, and the size of these hinted that the ones he had recently seen were mere juveniles. The specimens he saw here stood at least four times as tall as the tallest baobab trees—as far as he could see—for their tops disappeared into the swirling fog above, though the fog was much thinner there, even having a few sizable gaps in the centre which made excellent natural skylights. He realised that whatever magic was accomplishing the expulsion of the fog from the compound and its immediate surroundings also took illumination into account.
Glancing sideways through the gaps in the causeway's stone balustrade, he saw that the causeway crossed a moat, though the fog obscured exactly how wide that moat was. Wolfe saw roughly a hundred yards of water from the wall of fog to the opposite shore. And taking into account the size of the compound, he came to the conclusion that it was a city.
"Odd place for a city … these marshes. Who built it?"
"Floriath was built by the mortal children of the caretakers, when they were still as strong as Holly and as long-lived as the elves," Patrinia said. "But these lands weren't always like this. The marshlands were formed through magic, to guard secrets that are said to lie within the Temple-City. But that was before the time of any living elf. Anyway, a few dozen druids were all that remained when we found it."
"When we were allowed to find it," Faísha corrected. "No one can come into this enchanted marsh without the druids' consent. The trees can sprout long vines with thorns that rip intruders apart. Many of the duchess' flying scouts trying to find us met their end by flying too low."
"Why were you allowed to find it?"
"Through Holly's efforts in the past," Patrinia continued. "She and her companion's ability to ride the winds of time in the Immortals' Circle back on the Oqula continent allowed them to be present three decades ago, when the many resistance fighters were looking for a safe haven. The forest's magic recognised her thick caretaker blood, allowing her unchallenged passage through the marshes, and the druids welcomed her when she reached the city. She convinced them to abandon their isolationism and mount at least a passive resistance against the duchess by giving the resistance fighters shelter."
"Only non-fighting refugees, mostly the elderly and the children, live in the City-Temple. For the fighting forces, the city is still off limits, unless these have severe injuries that need attention, or for times like these, when a general assembly is called," Faísha said.
"Because of their pacifism?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not forfeiting my sword," Wolfe grumbled.
"That won't be necessary. And even if it had been so, I have a feeling an exception would have been made for you," Patrinia said.
"Why?"
"Because they know you have some half-caretaker essence inside of you. I spoke to a druid yesterday, and she told me the forest alerted them as soon as Holly bore you in."
They fell silent as they crossed a drawbridge in front of the pagoda. Being this close, Wolfe noticed that it had three passages large enough to accommodate animals as large as Re-ems, and many smaller passages for humanoids. He was about to comment on the poor design with regards to defensibility, when he remembered the enchanted forest surrounding them. If someone could overcome whatever the forest threw at him, a defensible gate wouldn't stop him.
Upon entering the pagoda, Wolfe marvelled at the vast numbers of bas-relief carvings, depicting events that had transpired centuries, or even a millennium or two ago. There were also loads of sculptures, either in niches or standing in open spaces. He also saw a gargoyle that proved his earlier assessment about defensibility partially wrong, the wrong part being that the city had no defences. Quickly looking for other gargoyles, he immediately spotted a few, each of their mouths containing thorny vines that twitched like brown tongues. However, his earlier conclusion that it wouldn't stop someone who could get past the forest still stood.
With Faísha gently nudging him along, he didn't have much time to stand around and take in the architecture, and soon they passed through to the other side of the pagoda, where another awe-inspiring sight awaited him, again stopping him in mid-step. The five towers stood on the uppermost tier of the temple complex. It actually resembled Concordia a bit, with walls separating each tier from the other. The temple's inner walls were relatively low, so they didn't obscure the terraces and small buildings arranged on the first and second tiers. The outer wall being about five hundred yards from where Wolfe now stood, so vast was the area lying between the outer walls of the temple proper and the city's outer walls.
The temple's outermost walls spanned about six hundred and fifty yards from side to side, as near as Wolfe could tell, leaving plenty of space on either side, most of which seemed to be covered by crop fields and botanical gardens. There were also a few crop fields and gardens in front of the temple, spanning three quarters of the space between the temple and the pagoda, and judging from the plants growing on them, Wolfe estimated that the produce could sustain about three thousand beings, provided that they all consumed roughly as much as humans did.
When Wolfe finally looked down at the area immediately in front of him, he saw a crowd of at least twice that number of beings packed into the remaining space. It amounted to half as many square yards of free floor space as there were people, after subtracting the space taken up by a dozen or so stone barracks, which also had people standing on their roofs. The ones up front lined the cobblestone path that led up to the temple. All of them were completely silent, and every pair of eyes were focussed on him.
Wolfe saw children in dirty tunics, tough and gritty-looking males, and females in coarse dresses that seemed to be woven from whatever fibres they could find. Most of them were either Meidel, Etti, Doalun, Dwarf, and Dait, but there were some others among them. He was surprised that the Etti were the largest group, since most of the affluent he had seen in Astirian had been Etti. But regardless of race, all of them had the same drawn countenance of someone driven into a corner with no hope of escape, but still having a determination to go down fighting. Whatever happiness any of them had ever known was paying for the excesses in luxury of the people in Astirian. And all of them were looking at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for him to do something.
He suddenly realised how Harry must have felt as a champion for the Triwizard Tournament. Well, having Harry's memories, he already knew, but experiencing a similar situation for himself made it easier to appreciate. Of course, no one had expected Harry to save their lives during the Tournament. Everyone, save Wolfe's great-great-grandfather, had thought that Harry's role had already been played. But the expectation on their faces was the same, and it was unnerving. So much, in fact, that Wolfe even failed to make his lips form a small, encouraging smile.
Scraping together some resolve, he raised his hand into the air, twitching it into a semblance of a wave. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened, and just when embarrassment started to creep up on him, a single cheer shattered the silence, followed by loud clapping. His enhanced hearing allowed him to quickly locate the source, and among the mass of people he quickly spotted Holly's mane of messy black locks. Beside her stood Pecos Bill, still clapping loudly, and that broke the crowd's hesitation. A wild roar cascaded through the city, and an avalanche of sound slammed into Wolfe.
"I think we need to start heading towards the temple," Jelly urged.
Wolfe puffed out his chest and hustled down the stone steps, before striding down the path that linked the entrance pagoda to the temple. Feeling a surge of self-confidence and inspiration, he smoothly drew the Phoenix Katana, channelled the necessary magic that allowed him to move with superhuman speed, and darted down the path, taking the sword through intricate manoeuvres so quickly that he knew it would look blurry to his spectators. Then for a grand finale, he pointed the sword at the sky and had it spit a fireball the size of a hot air balloon. The startled crowd briefly pulled back, then resumed cheering with magnified ardour.
"You just had to do that, didn't you?" Jelly commented exasperatedly.
"Why not give them a first-hand taste to add to the stories they've heard?"
As Wolfe got closer, he could see that many of the males who at first had appeared unarmed actually carried at least a small weapon in a sheath at their waist. Many more were clearly armed for war. The females all bore themselves with dignity, though Wolfe felt they were all putting on brave faces for their families. Wolfe knew that even the hardships he had experienced in his life fell short of what these people had been through. Most people here under the age of fifty had never known a time when they hadn't been persecuted. Then there were the few children, who gazed up at Wolfe with inquisitive glints in their large eyes. All of them were well nourished, telling Wolfe that the mothers put their children's health first, sometimes at the expense of their own.
The crowd fell in behind Faísha and Patrinia as they passed, the cheers slowly diminishing to murmurs of regular conversation as they drew closer to the temple. He could still feel their eyes on him, though, and he began to watch where he walked on the uneven floor, so he wouldn't stumble. But he couldn't keep it up for long, for as they drew ever closer to the temple, the splendour of the temple caught his eye again. A few healers rushed past him, and began shouting at the crowd to stay back and not disturb the hospital.
"You can see all of the temple later," Patrinia, who was now walking closer to him, whispered in his ear. "Right now we have to go straight ahead, through the hospital. We could go around it, but it would take too much time."
He paused to let her take the lead, and she took him into a cruciform building with four rooms. About half the beds were occupied by sick and wounded beings, being tended to mostly by relatives who were following the instructions of a handful of healers who rushed from bed to bed. He briefly slowed his gait to survey the proceedings, and he was about to continue on his way when an old Etti crone barred his way. Her wrinkled features betrayed a sizable dash of Dait blood. Even though she no longer appeared to have a tail, her bare hands and feet didn't have sharp claws, and she didn't have the downy body-covering fuzz that was typical to her ancestor's race, the small nose, overlarge ears and yellow feline eyes were more than enough to identify that part of her ancestry. Even the thin and malnourished sleeping child in her arms, with its face buried in the crook of her wrinkly neck, seemed to be too heavy a burden. Their condition—especially the child's—told Wolfe that they were probably recent arrivals in Floriath, for he hadn't seen any malnourished children outside.
"Great warrior marked by the immortals!" she cried hoarsely. "Please hear an old woman's pleas."
Wolfe looked at Patrinia and Faísha, hoping that they'd give him a sign or hint that would tell him what this was all about, but they stood back with blank expressions on their faces. Word about his Nalhati connection had spread somehow, and he was clearly on his own. "I'll listen, but I can't promise to better your situation. At least, not anytime soon."
"I seek not my own betterment, only hope for this parent-less child. My granddaughter cared for him before we escaped our former captors, but she was killed during our flight to the marshes. I do my best to care for him, but I am old and weak. Legends speak of mortals blessed by the caretakers. Please, bestow your blessing on this boy, for he needs more than my efforts can give. Please, I beg you…"
Wolfe was aware that everyone's eyes were again on him, awaiting his next action. He was at a complete loss. He knew all about the power of words and Nalhati blessings, but he was no Nalhati. He couldn't transfer magic by touching people, like Holly could. He didn't even have a working wand, for wands in the Mirror Realm needed the additional component of flawless gemstones mounted on their tips to make them work well. That was why magic in the mirror realm was so subtle, and blood magic so popular. Very few common Etti could afford magic wands and staffs. Those who could were usually people who manufactured magical artefacts, their guild sharing a limited number of wands.
Suddenly he got an idea. He knew he had it in him to transfer some of his magic to another being, but he needed something that could channel the magic. He went down on one knee and stuck his finger down the side of his boots. He soon found the very thin cut in the inside lining. His fingers slid into the secret compartment and extracted the feather Ginny had plucked from her own wing and given to him. If he used its tip to prick his finger, and wrote a runic charm for protection on the child's forehead, in his own blood, it would be blood magic.
"It might work, but you realise that other people will come hounding you for blessings if you bestow one on this child," Jelly warned.
Wolfe looked at the boy's thin legs moving, as he uneasily stirred in the woman's arms. "That's a risk I'll have to take, then." Then he looked up at the woman. "Please sit down and turn the boy so he faces me."
The woman did so, and the feather slipped from Wolfe's fingers as he took in the boy's appearance. He saw none of the slightly exotic features Etti had. This boy was a full-blooded human who bore an uncanny resemblance to him when he had been that age, and though he looked a bit different than the image Wesdagor had shown him after he had arrived in the Mirror Realm, the difference was due to age. The boy looked to be between three and four, which was how old Westley would be.
He immediately locked his gaze with the woman's and searched her mind, but there was no falsehood there. Wolfe shook his head, wondering if this was really Westley. Even hours before reaching Astirian, he had seen Yamato's familiar footprints accompanied by a smaller set of footprints belonging to a child. Searching his memories for an explanation, one suddenly exploded to the front of his mind. A few weeks after meeting the Light Elves, he had noticed a subtle change in the child's scent. Could Yamato—with his freedom of movement suddenly restricted by the elves' web of warning—have swapped Westley for an Etti child about the same age, making it wear Westley's dirty clothes saturated with his scent? It would be just like Yamato to go to these lengths to deny Wolfe his son, just in case Wolfe were to catch up to him. One thing was certain, though. It was nearly impossible that this was an elaborate ploy of Yamato's to distract him.
Wolfe quickly checked the awakening boy's thoughts, and detected no outside influence like a parasitic personality or a control maggot. This made sense, since children under three were known to make poor hosts for either. Moreover, Yamato had been unable to build up the necessary resources while he had been on the run, so it was very unlikely that he could have bred new maggots or create a new parasitic personality during that time.
Taking a deep breath, Wolfe prepared himself for the final test. He retrieved a picture of Yamato from a pouch and showed it to the boy, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The boy looked at the picture, and recognition lit up his thoughts. Wolfe released his breath, crumpled the picture and pulled his son into an embrace.
x
lluvatar: Here it is.
StarWest45: It's not really a competition. Just more of a miscommunication. ;-)
Gogirl: Fortunately real life postponed itself at least for a little while. I was able to do more writing than I thought. And before you start protesting that Westley's reappearance contradicts what I revealed in my answer to Chloe Black, allow me to point out a subtle difference. I specifically said that Wolfe wouldn't find Yamato any time soon. :-)
Athena McGonagall: You swear? Well, I'll hold you to that oath.
Lady of Masbolle: Yeah, there's something special about Sissi and Danny.
hootild: Four hours is a long time.
Saint Mike: You have no idea.
Fragarach: Yes they are.
Blah29: Killing Malfoy was relatively easy. However, (as I described in the narrative) had Malfoy had more time to assimilate more people, he'd have grown too powerful for even phoenix to stop. So don't underestimate the threat he posed.
Lipton: That means a lot to me. Thanks.
Numba1: What evil princess? Or did you mean the evil duchess?
Elric Magus: Me too.