"Talon already promised," Navi looked to the Patriarch as Goriyo's words ricocheted around the parlor. "The Lon's hold an audience, and he will arrange our meeting." Talon was nodding his say-so.
The Elder's smile spread like oil on water. "Of course. We dare not impose on the Clansman's proposal. However, the Temple of Time and the Hierarchy will be eager to serve you and Master Link. A few words from them could hasten proceedings considerably." His delivery was drier than kindling.
Navi hissed to Link alone, "Did you hear what he didn't say? He's basically telling us he'll delay the meeting! If we don't make some concession to them-"
Things can't move forward, Link agreed.
"Navi and I have Sterling to travel with us, and surely a letter of your benediction would be as convincing," Link ventured, heart pounding as Goriyo seemed to contemplate his offer.
"Young man," he sighed, relaxing his shoulders even as the rest of the Officials hardly dared to breathe. "You obviously have no idea just how important you are in all of this. I will say that I do not intend to miss your arrival at the Castle for any reason. Events are unfolding in a pattern we have not seen since the last Age." Like the naphtha flame of a lantern, the Elder's mustache twisted with his lips and lit his face. "The Mayor can tell you we were planning our own sojourn to the Market even before we heard of you and Navi."
On cue, eyes drilled Bipson as cracker crumbs dripped from his lips. "Ahem," he coughed and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "Indeed, the Summer is a fortuitous time for the Hierarchy. While I must stay in Farmington, the Elder and Younger Goriyo and Scholar Chudley will be traveling north in a matter of days, as they do every year."
Link and the Lons were silent.
"I think it'd be wise to take the advice, young man."
Estern Ingot, despite a tone that filed on eardrums like rasps on horseshoes, bored his steel gray gaze into Link with all the wisdom of one who knew the pattern of the web. Inscrutable, Link had never been impressed so strongly with a sense of –we'll-talk-later.
"If my nephew is done fogettin' his manners," Gerick squabbled for the first time in the meeting, throwing his gnarly hands above his head. "I, for one, will welcome the presence the Hierarchy of Farmington on our mutual trip to Market." He consecrated his words with a fist in his palm.
"The Lon Clan will be glad to host the Hierarchy as part of our caravan," Talon smoothed over. "Any others who wish to accompany us," he added on the spur. "Will surely be welcomed as well." He held his glass in the air.
"I too, will welcome the Elder and Younger Goriyo, and Scholar Chudley," Link said gracefully. He was sure those words were for him, and he managed a little chagrin for the Elders he dared resist. His first instinct was to submit, akin to the belly scoot of a subservient wolf, though stylized by an expressive Kokiri hand-motion ingrained in his muscles by Mido's domineering: to thrust his heart-on-his-hands and offered it to each adult. The Lons didn't understand, and these people certainly wouldn't either.
Talon raised his cup even higher. "Who joins us?"
"Aye!"
About half the room chimed with their enthusiasm, and Link heard Jessel's tenor above the rest.
"To Market, then," the younger Goriyo sanctioned with a greasy grin and another toast.
"To Market!"
Link retrieved his glass from the ground and drained a little more Sweetwater, and wondered how, if they could, escape the trap being woven around him and Navi.
"We'll just have to wing it," came the private words on her cue. "A wrong word, and we might not see the Royal Family on our terms, if at all."
Can you give me an idea of what I'll be facing? This quest-
"Sorry," Navi apologized. "Even if I knew, I'd probably be bound not to say anything revealing."
Her roundabout answer was sufficiently plain, but it was still abrasive. Well, he was used to being excluded, and as a plus, the Hierarchy had given him a precious insight to his future, and this meeting was not yet adjourned. There would be time to stew yet.
"What amazing times," Bipson sighed and held his wineglass out to be refilled. A servant obliged immediately. "To receive such word of the Children of the Forest and a momentous trip to the capital, O! the Goddesses bless us!" He tittered, but a pensive air had cloaked the room, and Ballon was the only one to share the Mayor's mirth. "And Talon, you must give us the news of the ranch! Any chance you can give my village some easy prices?"
"Heh, only if you're taking the bulk of my stock," the big man returned jovially, but brushed his mustache with his palm, a sign to Link that he was almost joking, and under tension. A consequence struck Link then, and he imagined his words here jeopardizing Talon's business. Hopefully, the upstart Emissary role he was playing did not have such an adverse effect on the ranch.
"Ah, we'll be glad to relieve you of bulk on your way back," Bipson conceded.
"Tradition. If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Talon quipped. "Cows are calving easy, bulls are more spirited than ever, and we still have the monopoly on the most beautiful women in Hyrule."
"Aye, that you do," said the sandy-haired brute in charge of the carpentry and lumber distribution, Jono. He was gazing unabashed at the only Lon woman in the parlor.
Malon blushed hotly, and Link's anger seethed beneath his skin. How bold, to say that about Malon!
"Tell me, Talon, I see you have at least another ton of eastern bottoms-wood with you. A great harvest, eh?" Jono lacked the plains accent, and a tongue-tangling brogue spewed from his full lips.
"And more on the way," breathed the Patriarch, relaxing in talk of his trade.
"I'll have my workers contact your drivers before you leave. I'd like to pick a few choice planks for a pet project." With a merry twinkle, he casually flashed another set of calf-eyes to Malon. Link wanted nothing more than to drive his fist against Block's block, even as Malon couldn't resist a derisive snort and tiny grin.
"And what would you have said? That Malon isn't beautiful or Talon was wrong?" Navi's tone cut with icy impatience across his own simmering anger. There was more to think over anyway, as Talon waxed proudly of his agriculture and husbandry, but he kept a sliver of his attention on the unsavory spiderlings threatening his makeshift tribe.
The Goriyo's, especially warranted a closer look. Link had seen Saria's communion with the Deku Tree, and with Malon and Gerick's description, he imagined the far-away eyes he and Navi shared when they Spoke deeply, and recognized the slight glazed-look of the holy men.
Estern again caught Link's own blue eyes, flicking to the Practicing and the Elder with a sharp little motion, and then to Bipson who had emptied his plate. He seemed unconcerned with the servant offering more food and even less with Talon's testimony. Link scanned the faces of the Officials, but they were masks of interest hiding nerves.
"And the poor youngster, an up-and-riding trickster, had a mishap on the plain not but a moon prior, Nayru rest his soul."
"Our deepest sympathies, Goodman Lon," intoned the Elder. "Sterling also mentioned the Rites in his letter. Farmington has sent a small reparation package of fine Western mules, a hopefully more steady footed mount for your riders."
"We accept your gift, High Elder," Talon thanked with a sitting bow. "To lose a possible future leader is a detriment to our camp, and you may be right about a level-headed animal. But tell me, are they as stubborn as I hear?"
Is this another dancing conversation in the works? Link breathed deep. Goriyo's contrived casualness was answer enough.
"They can outwait any prodding or yelling you can throw at them. Unless the rider cooperates with that most patient beast, he will not move the mule."
Link swallowed hard and the stone settled in his belly with the alcohol. His cheeks were warming. He grabbed for his plate by his feet, and munched into a fine crusty roll to ease the roiling. The initial influx of incredibly fatty foods from the Lon kitchens had wreaked havoc with his gut at first, but he discovered dry bread was a safe food when he was queasy. He wasn't sure about politics, though. Bipson was proof that no amount of food relieved the pressure.
"All this talk of pack animals, but I want to know more of our Eastern neighbors," The oldest man in the room, Anscom Mason, breached the stalemate with his warbling voice. "You work the stone. I was listenin', don't worry. You and the Kokiri make blades, I'm guessin' flint, chert and obsidian, considering Death Mountain's eruptive range. Do you have any work with you?"
"My obsidian knife is with our wagon," Link was intrigued by the oldster's interest, knowing that a mason was one who worked stone. "I'm told a mason makes flagstones and quarries block. I thought at first that was all you knew."
"I've done my share of travelin' to see stone in its natural state, but that's harder than it seems at first, what with tectonic forces and our own volcano to the north. You wouldn't believe where I've found errant stones that don't have any holy reason to be where they lie."
"But you've never seen the forest, or the rock there," Link surmised.
Deprecating, he wiped non-existent dust from his gray and blue smock. "You pinned me on that one. What with the threat of stalchildren and being eaten by your woods, none of us geologic types have ever set foot further south than the Zola tributary. Is your land an offshoot of the Death Mountain plateau or is the ground a different uprising entirely?"
Link thought hard about the intimate question. "The northern forest is said to have volcanic ridges, but they're worn down. Kokiri has a lot of limestone rises, but fewer caves as you move farther from the coast." Anscom was nodding, as if he knew.
"I thought something similar, but the cavern formation surprises me. For a hilly forest biome, the rainfall should turn acidic as it drains through the rock."
"Well, the limestone isn't too visible under the dirt-"
"Ah! So the ancient lakebed is that old, eh? Likely landslides have blocked the entrances," Anscom held an educational finger to the air. "I'm sure a people so observant of nature would notice the weathering of rock, and so you know how slowly that decomposition takes." Link agreed. "For limestone to be buried in dirt means that the forest has existed for very long time, growing and dying and forming the soil so rich that it must truly be the proverbial Garden of Farore." Anscom did manage to redden for his unthinking comment, but instead of balking, Link shrugged. The old man's mouth pulled to the side in a sympathetic grin. "Having traveled so far, I'm astounded that you and your tribe live so differently than any other group I've ever observed."
"I've noticed that," Link replied in his most polite, driest voice.
"Haha, you must have by now!" laughed Anscom, plus most of the parlor. "Don't let these young bucks frighten you, boy. We're concerned for the future of Hyrule, and that is a weighty burden." He softened as he looked into Link's face. "Thrust into it without any warning, nor permission is not easy. Why, if I didn't have seniority in the union of masonry, I'd be content to putz in the dirt until I fall into it."
His rocky voice was like a retreating wave, thou and Link took solace from Anscom, in knowing more than one here felt roped into a position like one of Gellum's errant bulls.
"The Kokiri glean stories about the outside from old tales of travelers and the wisdom of fairies," Link told the convocation. "But we had no context for war or even the beliefs of other peoples, and the words that describe the beginning of the world. To us, there is the forest, and all within it. Life begins from a seed, the shoot that sprouts, and branches towards the sun. We grow, we thrive, and then we die. And as we fall, and decay, we become the soil that nourishes the seed, the sprout and the tree."
"A beautiful notion," deigned Chudley. "The Goddesses are ever-blessing, and Farore's Gift of Life is a complete circle. I believe, despite your culture's ignorance of names, you do know Their presence."
The Goriyo's bristled at their brethren's admission, and Sterling was red beneath his shock of silver hair.
"I thought he was insincere, but I think he has some differences with our Elder friend," Navi relayed. "What's he gonna get for siding with us?" She fluttered nonchalantly.
Or is he planning on staying behind? Link posed.
"It is a matter for discussion, that's for sure," the Younger pierced Chudley's warm agreement. "While it may be premature to assume they-" Link wished he could glare his dark anger for that disparaging tone, but didn't dare. "-have any true beliefs by our Goddesses's standards, the Emissary's words leave little doubt to me that they have no spiritual concerns."
"Are you deaf? I thought the 'created by the Life Force of the Forest' and sworn uphold those ideals of Farore sounded spiritual in its own way." It was Ingo! Link was stymied as the younger, lankier brother of the Lon patriarch delivered his withering blow. How did he fit in with all this?
"In its own way, yes," the Younger agreed, raising his voice. "By our measurable standards, they show less initiative than either the Zoras or Gorons do, and are obviously on a track that will lead them no closer to enlightenment. If you ask me, that sounds sub-Hylian!"
"That's uncalled for, Goriyo!" Talon erupted. "We came to inform the people of Hyrule about a lil-known population, and to see the Emissary safely to the Royal Family!" Though he held his words now, his heavy brow and clenched teeth denounced the Clothman's inquisition.
"Talon's right," Anscom growled and gripping the arm of the chair. "You and yer father act like yall're in charge, you and the Captain, when it's Bipson's job to make orders or decrees." The Mayor was trying to diminish himself, but he could not deny the outright accusation.
"Unless they are spiritual matters," the Elder sniffed. "And that is all we have done. It is our job to preserve our people's spiritual integrity." Carlo Grand made no show of being mentioned, instead, choosing to remain as neutral as he possibly could at the Elder's right hand. "My son is also merely concerned-"
"By attackin' a foreign boy?" Malon stood now. She clawed a hand towards him. "You all but threatened him, and us-"
"You don't understand!" Link pleaded quietly, and the room devolved into a suddenly-too-loud frenzy of spitting tension and outright shouts. Estern and the Elder and Anscom were caught in a match of "Who's the boss?" Ingo was slurring on the church, Talon and Bipson were clasping their faces in hopes the room would disappear and Malon was waxing full, shrill harpy for her young friend. "No one does." He looked to Navi at his right shoulder, and her eyes were slim with daring.
"So tell them." He gave it no more thought.
"Hey!" He pushed his raspy yell to the far corners of the parlor Silence reigned again. Could it be that easy? Now they were staring! Well, he was used to that, dammit! "You don't understand. No one here does." Breathing was still fast, he noted with his hunter's eyes, but reason was starting to touch the more sober. "That's alright. There's time to learn. It took me thirteen years of immersion to understand, and yet, I am still learning. Your questions and their insight have given me much to think of as we travel north."
Malon's eyes were still glowing with her indignation, but Link tried to will his thoughts to her: "We'll find a way out of this." There was no sign she heard him, of course. Aloud, he said, "They'll help us, and I'll learn everything they know about me. I can be patient."
"Ha!" She melted into the sunniest expression he'd seen since they trod up the hill, though it was far colder than the fiery redhead ever showed in her home. "I don't doubt it, Link. I don't doubt it for a second." Gears whirring, she slipped into a mode much slier. "If you think you'll tame this one, you're in for a wild ride." Even the decorous Arbido tipped his hat to the Hierarchy.
Link looked down the line of chairs, and was thrilled to see more than bitterness on Ingo's mouth. He was as tightly wound as ever, arms crossed and a foot tapping, but the twist on his sneer held a trace of pride. Malon returned to her seat, chest moving in steady breaths that belied her calm face.
"This has been interesting," volunteered Captain Grand, rising from his seat, eyes on the Emissary. "The fact remains that our highest Officials will be leaving the town during the height of summer, a prime season for bandits and caravan raiders. I am obligated to assign military protection for your party. Sergeant," Jessel snapped to attention.
"Sir?" She saluted.
"You've already pledged your service to the young Emissary, without any formalities, at least, as a personal guard while he's in Farmington." His hazel eyes gleamed. "So I'm sure you'll agree to accompany him on his sojourn to the Royal Family's presence. I'll also pass the papers along to Command that a squad of ten of my personal soldiers will be under your supervision until Colonel Laurie receives you at the Caravan Flats."
Disbelief flickering in her face, brows twisting in confusion, Jessel stared at Carlo who stood at attention with all his expectation on the blonde soldier woman. She shed her distress quickly, claimed, "This is an honor, sir. Thank you, sir. I will serve our village and our Military proudly on this mission." She revealed her teeth with a grin. "Agitha should enjoy a change of scenery, this season."
"Spouses that are not actively enlisted in the service of our Royal Family are not permitted to accompany soldiers on high-risk missions. You know that much, Sergeant." Like the lion Link followed in the foothills so many years ago, Jessel was no match for the veteran commanding her, and the old panther of a Captain pounced and clamped her jugular. "I'll house her in my very estate until your return, to be certain no harm should befall her."
Jessel swallowed hard. "Yes, sir." Her voice was a controlled hiss, but she disallowed any disrespect to leach into her answer.
Carlo saluted and Jessel returned the gesture, though her posture was decidedly slack. The Captain extended a hand to Mayor Bipson.
"Well, yes, I suppose we should let the excitement deflate while the Lons rest." He snapped his pudgy fingers. "The servants will guide you to your chambers upstairs until dinner is announced. Be peaceful, my friends." The sparkle of a laugh shadowed his advice, but his rise from the armchair was as awkward as a lame turtle. He bounced from the room on the heels of Carlo, Ballon moving lightly behind them and the Clothmen vultured away.
Talon cleared his throat. "He couldn't deflate if he wanted to, the old windbag." This drew a smattering of wheezed chuckles from his clan. "We've all come a long way, and the battle over supper should be faced fresh. Tomorrow, we'll have to move on. Then we'll have the long hours of the road to decode everything."
What a tidy mystery, Link brewed as he was relieved of his cup and plate by the young server who poured his drink. Now Jessel, the Lons and the Officials left in the room were wrapped up like the prey of those venomous spiders, and he had couldn't even begin to guess which web lines to cut for their escape.
"Like I said, we just need to take this one step at a time, and hope an opportunity will present itself," Navi reiterated to her companion. "They had a plan for us before we even knew they existed. It's hard to compete against that, isn't it?" Saria and her plea on the Long Night, the long talks about Link's acceptance, yes, the blonde boy knew Mido had been blindsided by the rehearsed rhetoric. How disadvantageous it felt to be on the other side of the equation.
They exited the sitting room with the help, passed the library and potraits and ascended a set of stairs off the main entry hall. Each cell of guests was deposited at their own unmarked doors in the cramping hallway. Talon, Ingo, Gerrick, Malon, Link and Navi, accompanied for the time by Jessel were given the most spacious suites on the eastern side of the building. A common area between the rooms featured a brazier cast in brass, empty of coals, and several couches like those in the parlor.
"Our things are already up here," Malon told Link. "Your bed is through that door. I see your pack." He craned to see from his seat on the couch. "If you need some time alone…"
"No, not yet," he appealed, but his arms felt heavy, not as heavy as the stone of knowledge that had been thrown at his head, and he could feel the pulse of alcohol's influence. "So, maybe. I just want…"
"I know. This was a lot." Navi supplicated, protectively close. "Why don't you lay down?"
"…You just want to talk about me."
It was Ingo that stepped forward. "We're all roped into this, now. And I have no intention of talking anymore about you." He stalked to his own bed in the room he would share with Talon and Gerrick.
"That sneer was almost affectionate," Navi whispered. "I'll tell you about it as soon as you wake up."
Sulkily, Link made like Ingo and retreated.
The adults bid the Emissary a good rest, and he shut the door behind him. His pack was indeed, next to the singular bed, untouched for the placement. Good. The clouds of quilts enveloped him, softer than any strawtick of the Lon Clan, wagon bed and nest of furs. And despite the Sweetwater and the impetus of this new Lore and his utter, wrung-out soul, Link couldn't close his eyes just yet. In the beams above his bed, like a little cloud in its own right, was a tiny, telltale Skulltula web puffing in a draft.
There was no way he was sleeping.
"Jessel," Link announced as he pushed the door open, making the adults jump.
"Yeah?" came the surprised tenor.
"Would they really make you leave your wife behind?"
Her bittersweet lips twisted. "They've been waiting for an opportunity like this for years. I didn't realize it would be so easy for them when I sided with you." Her blue eyes narrowed. "But then, my wife served in the military, and she is married to a soldier. She understands what it means to wait for kin with no hope of their return, and that we must do whatever is necessary to survive. You know about survival. You know pain is part of life, and you can endure it."
"All things pass, and return to where they start. The Kokiri know this."
The sergeant ruffled his shaggy braided hair. "You're such a serious soul. Maybe that's the weight of destiny handed to a youth. In any case, you are facing a lot of change, and you need a sense of permanence."
She schemed, grinning. "Would you like to hear the tale of the First Hero?"
