The Castle was a solitary bloom atop the thorny maze of civilization and enterprise, and of all the plants and flowers in his knowledge, Link had no idea how to cultivate it, and benefit from the fruit. Whether it held poison or perfume was another riddle to be solved.
The talk from the Elder and Younger, and Sterling when he was present, was this: Link must be escorted to the Royal Guard Outpost on the Southern Edge of Caravan Flats, deposit the Sergeant with Major General Laury, and then, after Malon took her family's wagon to the Guild's Quarters, it was straight to the Temple of Time. There, the Clothmen would confer with their brothers and sisters, who had already sent word to the Castle about the Emissary's due arrival. Once the appropriate members were assembled, Link would have to await the Royal Messenger's word, and finally, be taken to meet with the rulers, or their vassals, whichever was available first. Of this, the Elder was absolutely positive they would have all their tasks completed by nightfall, or at latest, the next afternoon.
Link and Navi chewed over their words many times during the week of travel, and couldn't help but to feel concerned over who the "appropriate members" were, and if they included any of his Lon family. He was more doubtful than hopeful. The way Talon described getting Link to the people in charge was to bring him along when he presented the deliveries and Tribute.
Of the two methods, Link much preferred the simpler, less annoying route.
He was putting up with the blather about Hylian history and economy, and a Calm descended whenever he had to endure Goriyo's lectures for those last two days, taking in all his Lore, filing it away in his memory for a day when it may be useful. Often, he had to still his fingers from massaging the bridge of his nose as the Younger droned on about this noble and that tax levy.
Not to mention Navi's incredible mind and his link to it, the fairy shared her heart completely with her friend, and there was no Lore that would ever be forgotten.
On the trip down the southern slope, and the remaining mile of track to the proper outskirts of Caravan Flats and Market Town, Link was tensely seated on the front bench with Jessel and Malon, watching the fence get closer, as well as the swelling barracks of the Royal Guard and the many tents and buildings of the Inspection Stalls and Customs Office.
Jessel revealed with a wry grimace, "This is the true balance of Hyrule's infantry. Once the war ended, everyone went and bought a plot of field, began farming and popping out kids. There are still posts and a few battalions that patrol the edges of our world, but these twelve stone rectangles are all that's left of the Countless Legions."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Link questioned solemnly, and heard cries like birds over the muted roar of speech. The gate ahead of them would bottleneck the entire Lon Caravan down to two wagons at a time, and Link finally saw a new face in a skinny booth on one end of the gate. More smells, shouts and animal noises materialized as the distance disappeared.
"Yes, for peace time," Jessel conceded. "But aren't you proof that peace may be fleeting?"
He jumped out of his skin. "Me?"
"I didn't mean you personally, Link, but if the Hierarchy is right, and there's some sort of Divine testing going on or something, what does that mean for the folks bystanding? There was a lot of collateral damage the last time around, so it's told. Didn't you listen to the Skyward legend at all?"
He gasped. "Every Hylian that was below Skyloft…" But he glared at the Sergeant. "Demise was a demigod, and Hylia herself was incredibly powerful. So far, the Clothmen don't even have a candidate for the Agent of Power." His heart was beating strangely and the fluttering in his throat made it hard to swallow. "We will have time to prepare, if that peace will not last."
"That's what I wanted to hear, kid!" Jessel laughed heartily and hugged the boy to her side. She even kissed his cheek. He blushed the same shade as Malon's hair. "And it's good that the farmers know how to defend themselves, too. Rakes, shovels, hell even a sturdy hoe makes a great melee weapon in a pinch."
"Never rule out a cast iron pan, either!" Malon suggested. She clicked her teeth to the team of mares, and they stopped short of the closed gates, which were little more than reinforced rails and posts.
"Won't we be too close when they open?" Link asked.
Malon smugly beamed.
"State ya name, ya business and ya numbahs, please!" Yelled an oily faced attendant on the outside of the fence. His uniform matched Jessel's, except for the company colors on his belt and the standard on his buckler: light mail, greaves, a breastplate and helmet, boots and tough leather breeches. As a northern Guard, he wore cerulean instead of navy, and his Triforce emblems were white instead of red.
"Cadet Gruse,, good to see you! I'm with the Lon Clan, here for Annual Tribute, and we got a shitload of cattle and people!"
"Wot wot, I thought it was you, Sergeant! How the hell are ya? I heard you was comin, but riding up in the firs' wagon, well I nevah! An' this mus' be the Emissary, and I'm certain you're Malon Lon, no mistakin' that head a hair-"
"Thank you, Cadet!" Jessel interjected quickly.
Link never heard so many words pour from a person in so little time. His accent was vastly different from the drawling of the plains, too, and much more plucky.
"Does anybody make it past your mouth into the city before nightfall?"
"Oh, plenty, Sarge, but I really makes 'em think about how much they want through this gate. If it aint' worth my little spiel, well I never, they turn away and use the North Gate."
The three adults shared a laugh. Jessel told him, "The North Gate is a joke. The only way into the Castle from the north is a sheer cliff and the deadliest traps the Royal Magicians could devise."
"Oh. So no back door to the Royal Family, then." That's a nice bit of info, Link said to Navi.
"Wonder if it'll be useful…"
The greasy, hook-nosed man the color of fresh milk brayed when he laughed. "Heehaw, fraid not. The only way through is through me, and then through the Market Town, and then the Castle Gate…"
"Thank you, Cadet! Can you lift the gate now? Or do you need a cow patty for identification?" Malon interrupted this time.
"Well I never, if you woulda asked me, I was bout to open up, and you go insultin' my post, MY post…" Gruse trotted back to the booth, still muttering as he cranked something. The bars of the gate slid on clever mechanisms to open vertically, Link and Navi both marvelled at the simple complexity. He waved amicably to them all as the Lons were funneled past the checkpoint.
Beyond the gate and short fence were the barracks, long and low stone structures that housed the Royal Guards, and the military that kept the order of Caravan Flats, Market Town, the Guild's Quarters and the Nobles District. The Castle itself had it own outpost of soldiers, and the commanding officers lived in the Noble's District. Space was still ample, as to allow even the largest cargo easy passage, and the road was hard packed, sun-baked dirt, and the grass was short cropped by the multitude of feet and hooves that traversed it daily.
Their caravan had only gone about a hundred yards when Jessel sighed, and hopped out of the wagon. The building nearest them bore the triple triangles and wings of the crest over the double wooden doors, and it was clear she was leaving, as planned.
Link got out too, Navi following him, and Malon pulled off to one side of the track. Her Clan's traditional spot was to the eastern side of the Flats, and they knew how to find it and unhitch. She directed the balance of her people towards the right, and the heads of the Horse and Cattle Clan could handle the inaugural setup. As for customs, there was a team that would get a declaration from each wagon on their contents, make sure none of the cattle were diseased (highly unlikely, but the double-check/triple-check was nonetheless standard practice) and get a tally on the people incoming. Talon and Ingo were ahead, opening their stall in Castle Town proper, and would gather with the heads of the Clan for Tribute. Malon would see the Sergeant around the Flats and Town for the next few weeks while the Clan sold it's bounty. Link's future was less certain, but nobody liked to say anything about it. She was even a little shocked that Jessel mentioned the possibility of war to their new little brother, but if anyone knew about war, it was the sunny-haired willow of a woman that served with her uncle.
"I'll be here until fall," Jessel offered Link her ungloved soldier's hand. He grasped it in the brother's embrace, thumbs entwined, and they pounded each other's back.
"See you again, Jessel." Link hardly wanted to leave the blunt woman behind, but that decision was out of his hands. Her face softened, and it seemed she was drawing breath and opened her lips to tell them something when another military voice rang out in command.
"Sergeant, main office, on the double! MG Laury's orders!" cried a guard from within the doors.
"Yes, sir! Just a minute, sir!" Her officer's face made it clear that she did not have a second to spare, and she rolled her eyes. She unsheathed her sword and knelt before Link. "Until we meet again, Link. Thank you." Jessel held the pommel end up, and clasped a fist over top of it. "Now you." Link grabbed her hand. Blue eyes locked. "My brother, you are bound for a great journey, and if you don't tell me every story and song you learn, my spirit will haunt you until time's end. Be well, and go forth courageously."
"I will."
Jesselia hesitated again, but this time she grimaced and strode away, not looking back as she put her sword back in place.
Link climbed back into the wagon with Malon. What was she trying to tell me?
Navi replied privately, "I don't know. But…"
But?
"It looked a lot like a goodbye. Like, a forever goodbye."
I hope not. At least, we'll see her if we have to leave, right?
"I don't know…"
They lapsed into silence, observing the Flats with virgin eyes.
The City of Tents mix of canvassed pavilions and stone barracks gave an impression of old and new, permanence and inconsistency, some tarps were tarred against the weather, and more still were simply tied to any available post or line to provide shade, if nothing else. It was a brilliant melange of color and texture, and the underlying symphony of voices, horse whinnies and snorts, the bawling of distant cattle, cuccos cooing, pigeons and doves rasping softly above the tents, rattling wagons, hawkers, soldiers, traders, browsers, buyers, complainers, and criers was an entity unto itself. Link took in the irregular rhythm, discerning no pattern, wonderment at the sheer amount of people contained beneath the mountains dazzling him. Like Farmington, the smells attacked him viciously, an assault on decency, but beneath the anaerobic stink of bodies and their wastes were a multitude of spices, musks, smoky aromas and the fresh scent of flowing water from the Zora River at Castle Town Quay was a welcome diversion. His tongue felt greasy as he smeared it against his teeth, the smoke of the countless fires settling in his mouth.
There were streets, in a fashion, but for the traders that could not afford the real estate costs of a stall constructed their slapdash structures to display their wares wherever there was space. Often mazelike, the tents relied on one another for support, and the effect was a drunken, tilted illusion of perspective. Since the center path was kept wide by strict guards, Link was able to observe the canniest of the sellers, the ones who defended their prime spots on the front lines with the cunning of generals.
Men from their young twenties to oldsters with beards, meaty women, bent crones and tempting sirens heralded their stalls' offerings with theatrics appropriate for the grandest of stages:
"Sale on linen! Only 5 rupees a yard!"
"Finest filets this side of the river! Caught fresh this hour!"
"Never before seen, a golden skultulla carapace! Only twenty rupees!"
"Young Master," implored a hulking young buck, rushing from his stall to the wagon. "Have you ever seen apples so round or perfect? Please, take this one! No charge, not a rupee for it, I'll take! Remember me, Young Master!"
The fragrant fruit was thrust into his hands, Link was about to give his thanks when the man cried out, clutched his head and fell to his knees.
"Back, you peasant!" Goriyo the Elder was abreast of the halted wagon, brandishing a thin wooden cudgel. He lowered it, but did not resheathe it. The other sellers were silent, glowering. "How dare you force your rotten wares unto the Kokiri Emissary! He comes from the garden of Farore, how could you assume your pitiful produce was worthy of an Agent-"
"Elder, please, it was fine!" Link denounced. "Please, I don't understand what he's done wrong!" Link stood, left the apple with Malon, and left the wagon bench. He stalked his way to a group around the fallen merchant with Navi in tow.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
A man hovering over the apple-seller eyed the Emissary. "Move along, kid. He'll be fine, no thanks to your escorts. We've got plenny a red potions."
Link was taken aback. "But, I didn't want-"
"Well, ya didn't have to," he closed the distance between himself and Link. "And yer ony gonna make trouble fer the rest of us. Git stepping, kid."
Shocked and wordless, he and Navi returned to the waiting wagon, stomach churning, unsure with whom he should be angrier. Malon's relatives were passing her and the Hierarchy by, knowing exactly where their journey ended. The bench looked so empty without Talon, or Ingo or Jessel...
The Elder sniffed disdainfully. "This array of the dregs of the Market are, unfortunately, the first faces newcomers see when they enter our capital city. Only the dishonest, or the destitute would be so transparent in their attempts." He picked the picturesque apple from Link. And as it left his fingers, a navy glow encapsulated the round projectile, and it exploded ten feet away in a cloud of mosquitoes.
Link and Navi shared their look.
Who is the real showman?
"Do you see now why it is so important that you have a guarded escort? Where is Jesselia?" The Elder Goriyo pretended to look around.
"She was requisitioned at the entrance of the Barracks," Malon told him, though he knew.
"And just when she would have been useful! Shame."
"The real shame is that you are respected by anyone, Elder," Malon said with as much aplomb and as little apology as she could.
"Perhaps the Mayor would refute that, and Jono Block may not need your lumber by the time you and your family are returning to Homestead." Like an eagle sunning his wings, Goriyo puffed out his chest and pushed his stallion forward.
"You can't control everyone, Goriyo!" Malon barked.
He ignored that.
Link simmered. The web was ever untangling, and binding them tighter every second. How to escape this madman and his shows was just beyond him, and the idea that he should run and put this man and his familiars behind him was enticing. Fingernails were prickling his palms, and he consciously unclenched his hands.
"No matter," came his son's voice. "We can proceed to the Temple of Time. And even though I don't believe it will be safe for you to roam unattended, from the safety of our party, we will escort you through the Market," The Younger Goriyo rode up to his father, Chudley and Sterling in tow.
Link considered their options as they trundled along the clear path. On one hand, they would get him to where he needed to be, and quickly. On the other hand, they were asses. More than asses, Link corrected himself, they were inconsiderably arrogant, merciless and cruel, when they were supposed to be serving the people. Link knew that most of the clothmen and women of the world were kind and compassionate, but all were only Hylian, and power and influence seemed to be too tempting for those with access. Could Link run from these men? Why should he? He had little idea how to find his way through civilization, and these men had the keys to closed doors. Allegedly.
That being said, to himself, there was no reason he had to completely cooperate.
He stood on the bench, and hung over the edge, holding the rails. "I'm sorry, my friend! I'll visit again! I owe you!" Link shouted to the crowd around the man on the ground.
When he turned back and sat, the disapproval in Sterling's glare only stoked the excited flame in his heart. Link's belly warmed. This was better than being drunk!
"Speed up, Malon," Link urged. "Can we get along beside them?"
The Lon woman snorted. "They ain't movin' very fast. You can catch them."
So he hopped out of the wagon again, and raced ahead of the sour party. Link planted his boots on the sod, and crossed his arms.
"I know that was a farce. I know you weigh every word you speak to me and around me, but so do I," Link deadpanned, icily proper, and indeed, the Elder and his escorts were stopped, his captive audience. "If we are to continue our relationship, drop your disguises, and show me your true faces. I don't want anyone else harmed for my benefit, even if you don't care how little they matter in your world. That man has ties and kin, and you've affected them with your aggression. In the forest, this is an unspeakable atrocity. We don't hunt without good reason, or incite injury for pride's sake. You are abominable."
The disapproval had turned to icy, fuming shock. Link thrilled higher, looking for more words to spew his black-hearted feeling, but Navi nudged his mind, reining him in a bit.
"Give them some time to stew," she advised as the men lead the way.
And stew they did, while Link and Malon rode past a much quieter crowd, ever upward and north along the track. Tents gave way to stalls of wood and stone, and flagstones were a welcome relief from dust and sod. From every side, merchants were offering everything: meats, cooked, raw, jerked or otherwise preserved, produce, jams, jellies, flowers, honey, cloths of all kinds, baubles, toys, bags, purses, furs, leathers, bread, pastries, pasties, potions, pants, spurs, jewelry, shoes, soaps, dyes, lumber, ceramics and glasswork, to name a few. None of them approached the cart, however.
The road here branched to the different parts of the capital: the Guild's Quarters in the east, the Noble's District in the north, and the Castle Town Market in the West, where most of the populace of the city resided above brick and mortar shops. Before long, Malon stopped the wagon.
"I gotta take the wagon to our site," she explained. "After I empty the home goods in our stall house, I will start assembling the teams for the Tribute's delivery. Maybe I'll see you on the way there, if your babysitters will allow you." Though she smiled sweetly, Link read the tightening of her eyes, and knuckles working the leather of the reins.
"It will take all of them to keep me from you, Malon," Link heard himself say.
She rewarded his boldness with a full woman's laugh, coy and appreciative, warm. "You...I love you like a brother, Link. You're as true as they come. I'll miss you. And Navi." She hugged him tightly, released him and sighed, holding him at comfortable arms length. Link wasn't sure she realized she used his Kokiri symbol for siblinghood, but it was supposed to be a single hand on a shoulder. And then, he accepted it as the Lon's own symbol of love. The blonde boy hugged her again with a shuddering sigh.
"Thank you for everything, Malon." Navi said simply. Malon smiled. Link stoically wiped his nose, squared his shoulders, and took his pack from the bench. It was his basket wrapped in bear fur and suede straps stained with sweat, which he swung to his back and stood amongst the riders. He watched the familiar wagon roll eastward to the Guilds Quarters, where the butchers were already preparing for the momentous work ahead of them. He couldn't believe he missed the trundling cart already, his first Hylian home. Then, with a final adjustment to the sword on the outside of his pack, he was ready.
"Are you sure you don't want to replace that shapeless thing for a proper Hylian rucksack or adventurer's pouch?" the Younger Goriyo drawled. All faces swiveled to him. "What? He said we could be honest. I think it looks unprofessional to have half a bear dragging behind him!"
Link did not even acknowledge the question. He simply waited. "Are we leaving yet?"
The Elder dismounted. "I want you to ride. Let's have a parade." There was no joviality in his joking, and fournavy-clad men, a bevy of guards and servants and an Emissary did not make a convincing cavalcade.
Link shrugged, strapping his pack to the horse, a dark chestnut with a golden mane and huge hooves. He climbed up into the saddle, and as he did, a face in the crowd caught Link's eye.
Dirty, matted hair, maybe it was curly once, hid most of the kid's face, and the rest of his skin was the same dusky brown as his hair. What remained of a blue tunic clothed the bony boy, presumably a shade taller than Link. And then the face melted back into the crowd that was constantly forming and reforming around the bargainers and hawkers.
It was that unnerving feeling again, like hearing the Skyward legacy, like when Navi joined him in the forest. The horse beneath him started moving, and he scanned the faces for the one that caused his gut to churn worse than a posset with mead, but there was no one to see. The boy had ghosted away like fog in the sun.
Ahead of them was a cobblestone way that shot straight through the mass of stalls and up to the bridge and the gate into Castle Town. Regularly manicured trees and shrubs lined the way, poplars and boxwoods, Link noted without thinking about it. Petunias and campanulas, ranunculus and larkspurs were blooming, too, in unnatural groups.
The Zora River was a tangible presence now, humidity thick down by the banks, and the gentle rush of the landlocked waterway made wet slapping noises against the gray stone of the channel. Another heavy handed effort to cuff nature, Link almost disapproved, but the convenience was hard to outweigh. Boats, ships and rafts bobbed patiently at spits of wood and stone docks, more sellable goods unloaded or sent on to further trading posts down or upriver. A very regular splashing, louder than the lapping water sounded to the left, upriver, and when Link found the source, he gasped aloud with delight!
It was a pale, watercolored person swimming with the ease and grace of a dolphin, reflecting the water and sky in their scales like exquisite jewels. He stopped mid-river, about 20 feet from the drawbridge, raised an arm in greeting, never blinking, and disappeared beneath the surface. He did not come up before the party crossed the drawbridge, and the thick outer wall obscured the view of the river. They crossed through the arch into the Noble's District.
There was dark gray granite hewn from the mountain looming in the background tiled on the ground, and a delicate border of pale, almost white stone at the edges of the walkways. Cornerstones were etched individually, Navi saw as they passed, with unique and mostly religious pictures of the Three Goddesses, their sigils, the Triforce, the six elements or bland pictograms of rupees or pumpkins or dragons. The wood and stone single story buildings were increasing in size, balconies and floors and more ornate entries appeared as they progressed.
Oil lamps on long posts would light the streets at night, tended by agile youngsters in the city's service and during any time of the day, those poles identified the junctions of the roads. Currently, they were on Arrow Avenue, and Silver Street was to their right, Temple Way on the left. In Link's lungs, he could not find enough breath to fill them, no matter how much dusty, city air he sucked in, and the anticipation and the closeness of all the buildings was pressing down on him. Unnatural shadows striped the avenue, with none of the charm of a canopy Link pined to see again.
They were turning left, leaving the residences of the lower Nobles, and entering the Pilgrim's Square. There were more tents, but these were deluxe, tailored and maintained weather-proofed tents and pavilions. There were navy robes everywhere, and most were older women, men and young adults serving food, passing out blankets, leading prayer services, and a number of other activities Link was unsure of, all beneath unique tents or inside the cloth walls.
"So good to see our sisters and brothers in the city, and the very Cloth that binds us in name, and practice." Chudley was speaking to Sterling, but both Kokiri boy and fairy appreciated as they drew closer to the group in the close quarters. "I was just reading a passage about the original Priestess, Shea Clothman of the Silk, and it was she who set up a tent when the Madame in charge would not allow her to heal the poor inside the Temple of Time…"
"And we take our last names from she who gave love," Sterling completed in idiom. Link hid a dark snicker beneath his tongue.
Past the textile roof, the sky opened to reveal the single largest building in the Noble's District: the magnificent Temple of Time.
Of course, there were three sectors to the front, the tallest section in the middle, and at the base of that section were a set of huge double doors, open to receive any and all. To either side were panels of grillework, both depicting the advent of the Triforce in sublime symmetry. Glass glittered behind the grille, and Link could imagine how it would look from the inside, and backlit by the setting sun. On the second tier of the Temple were six archways, and above those, was a single stained glass medallion that seemed to glow with the Triforce. The stone was all from the mountain as well, the same delicate shade of gray, and the low steps leading into the Temple gave the appearance of growing out of the heart of a city.
With little pomp, the Elder led them across the square, holding the reins of his horse and stopped it, gauging the sun. It was not even noon yet. He smiled at Link.
"This is quite a day. And I am honored to be part of it."
For once, there was no hidden venom.
The Younger stepped up after dismounting. He looked to Link on the horse. "I want to apologize-"
"Save it," Link cut him off with a slashing motion of his hand. "When you can talk to me without lying, I will listen."
"That was four words, you can't-"
"It's all over your body, and in your heart. I can't trust you, Goriyo." An eyebrow and soulpatch twitched. "But I want to thank you for all that you taught me, and will continue to teach me and Navi," Link said eloquently. He dismounted as well, and paid the other two men no mind.
Navi watched Chudley, however, and saw his private smirk of confirmation, and she could not imagine was he was registering.
"In any case, let us proceed," Goriyo the Elder led their party up the stairs and through the threshold of the Temple of Time.
It was much darker than he expected, but still well lit for its size by twelve arched windows, and two more on either end of the building's main, cavernous room, and fourteen candelabras. Streams of sunlight poured in the panes, and the shuffling of feet over the checkered floor animated dust particles that danced through the beams. As before, Link was reminded of the Old Forest with the gnat motes, and the cathedral roof of foliage, buttresses of roots instead of stone pillars, but there was less death here. Without the deku babas, this seemed the safer environment. A glance to the men of the Hierarchy changed that opinion. At least he could see what could have killed him when he lost his pinky.
There was nowhere to sit, and revellers either stood or kneeled on the black and white stones, facing an alcove or the ceiling. About a hundred civilians were there, and far more, perhaps six or seven times that, could have fit. Between the pillars around the room were alcoves dedicated to one exemplary Sage or another, each one pertaining to one of the elements.
"There will be time for you to see them, but first you must meet with our Elders," Chudley informed Link when he saw the boy craning to read a plaque on the wall. "Look up, instead."
Link pushed his gaze upwards. He uttered quietly, "Oh, wow…"
If the grillework and its filigree had impressed him, it was nothing compared to the rich colors of the mural in the triangular ceiling panel. Deep fires of the darkest red and bright orange surrounded a scimitar wielding woman and she exuded control of the earth beneath her feet and sexuality in the northern third. To her right was the cool and serene sea of blues and whites which pulsated around the star of a woman, balancing scales in one hand and a crown in the other. And not least was the woman in glorious flight among every shade of green in existence, trailing her immeasurable hair and the essence of her soul over their world to bring life.
And in a small, seemingly blank space of the ceiling, nestled between two beams of stone, Link thought he could see a touch of purple, and black spiky shapes. As soon as he blinked, it was normal gray stone.
A plush, wine-dark rug lined the central knave, and the deep red drew Link to the back of the building. There, several old women in simple brown robes awaited, and to the left stood an equal number of men wearing navy.
They stood before the Great Altar of Time, a marble banister and posts separating the masses from the display. Slabs of the finest golden colored marble were sculpted into perfect triangles, and supporting the triple shapes were motifs of mountains, rivers and plants, rocks, fish and people, lightning, rain and wind. Three dancing feminine shapes curled around their respective triangle, lovingly embracing it and offering their gifts unto their creations. Right in front was a simple stone platform, grossly utilitarian against the grandeur of the reliefs of the Altar of Time, and three hollows were scooped into the top of the granite. No, Link corrected. It was hewn from obsidian! It glittered like the glass it was, and he gripped the antler handle of his own piece of the mountain on his belt.
"Welcome, O Emissary of the Forest, Agent of Farore! Welcome to the Temple of Time," intoned the most wizened women with a golden cord tied around her brown robe. "I am Madame Viscena, and I oversee the spiritual needs of Hyrule."
"I am Link of Kokiri, Champion of the Children of the Forest and Honorary Lon Clansman. My companion is Navi, in the service of the Great Deku Tree." Navi bobbed and he bowed, utterly charmed by the twanging brogue of the eldest lady.
"It is a great honor to meet you."
On cue, the rest of the congregation around Viscena bowed to Link.
"I wish I could say that you can go to the Royal Family immediately, however, the Gerudo King, the Western Emissary, has also recently arrived, and is meeting with the King on this day. We will be delayed, but only shortly." Viscena extended a hand to the Kokiri, and he took her gnarled hand in his. Her tone was surprisingly casual. "I see the chore that you think this visit will be, and I will assign my most trusted assistant to accompany you when we are through with our meeting."
"Really, I would hate to take anyone away from their duties," Link started. "And the-"
"Oh, but Magda here will be glad to spend the day around the Market," Viscena smiled cannily. Link hardly dared hope, but the sight of the gammy old, crone in brown garb sent his heart soaring.
"Worshipful Viscena, if I may-"
"Goriyo! How pleasant to see you again," the Eldest grinned.
"And you, your grace. My son and I are escorting the Emissary-"
"And a fine job you did, getting him here to us," Viscena congratulated. "As I said, my Magda is glad to keep her good eye on the boy for us. And the guards have a very accurate description of our guest, should there be any attempt to harm him, and given he stays within Castle Town's Market border," she winked to Link. "I daresay, he shall be quite free to do as he sees fit."
"But it is dangerous out there-"
"Aye, I nearly twisted an ankle in Lover's Fountain Square the other day."
"Viscena, please-"
"How are you enjoying farm life, Elder? Are the Scholar and Practicing a handful enough for your talents? If you are seeking a more challenging post, perhaps one of the Western outpost towns needs a new temple."
"...Farmington is my home now. I have come to love the view from our prestigious hill."
"Then that's how it shall stay. Silly of me to suggest anything else." the woman motioned to Link. "Come, walk with me, dear boy." She took the Emissary to the alcoves around the room.
"Fritz, the First Fire Sage. They say he was half Mogma...And this is Eleni, the White Water Sage, and the only Parella appointed. The Zora's say there're still a few in remote lakes in the south, but no one's seen them in ages...Bilbo, the Sage of Shadow. He was the reason for the Hackwater Well Resourcing."
That damn well, Link thought wryly to Navi.
"This is Herlo, a Forest Sage, and a ranger. He was a wilderness man, couldn't stand towns." Link's mouthed popped into an O of surprise. The graystone statue was a hearty warrior, carrying an obviously wooden sword and wearing a hood made from a bearskin. The ears and teeth were a nice touch, the forest boy approved. The costume was gorgeously Kokiri-esque.
"And you remind me of him," Viscena said pointedly. Link was still. "Meeting you is like looking down a drawn crossbow, and Goriyo couldn't see you had it cocked and trained on his heart the whole time. I'm sorry for his treatment."
"It's fine. They haven't been too annoying," He didn't dare look at the Eldest.
"Harrumph! I am an old woman, and I've seen my share of youngsters and more than my share of oldsters and the middle aged, and I've never heard a more bald-faced lie." Viscena stopped her progress, a covert twist to her features. She spoke quietly. "Then again, when I got a letter last month from my displaced nobleman in Farmington about his son having epiphonous dreams about the Agent of Farore, and serving him by accompanying him like a faithful shadow, well, that got me curious."
"So Younger thought he was going with us? Not just to the Castle, but...along for the ride?" Navi questioned disbelievingly.
"Evidently. So i dug through the texts, and somewhere in the shifting pages, I found a reference to whatever scheme they cooked up, and while there are some markers for the Event, I can't imagine a worse candidate than one of those gussies. Let alone, there are many factors that must apply for this specific text to be true, and they may have been able to twist their brains around that, but I can't, nor can our Scholars. You'll be summoned, and watched, but there is nothing I've found to suggest you are in danger, except for that windbag, or that you have this supposed 'shadow.'"
"Madame Viscena, thank you."
"Och, no thanks necessary. I know a headache when I see one, and you should go explore the town. There's no reason to coop you up here like a cucco until the Royal Family decides its ready for another visitor. Exciting times, these. We've never had such a diverse turn out for the Tribute. Gorons, Zoras, Gerudos and now even a Kokiri have come during this auspicious season. Please, enjoy yourselves in the Market Town, and don't worry about those four wet blankets. Magda here has my personal funds, so anything you see you may purchase. And your belongings on the bay horse will be kept at the nunnery for safekeeping. This ring will get it back for you. It is my seal."
"I can't thank you enough," Link said plainly as Magda and he walked out of the Temple into the noon sunshine, not even sparing a glance back to the men who so piously delivered them to the town.
Viscena was grinning ear to ear as she approached the plinth of angry priests.
"How could you let him just walk away? What about the moment he meets-"
"Fyer, when have any of the great moments been witnessed by the bureaucracy?" the Eldest questioned harshly and they proceeded to the private quarters behind the Altar of Time. "We were never meant to see any of it happen, and we are merely the pathways that lead the Agents to the appointed time and place." She went to a brazier by the fire and began making a pot of tea. "And if any of yous wants to chase him down, and tag along, I dare ya. Ask our friends from the hills what it's like to chase that wolf."
There was a pregnant pause, like the crowd before the opening of the curtain to the newest play.
"He's a backwards, simpering, barbaric moping twit, and if it weren't for that fairy, I'm convinced he would never say a single word to anyone!" The Younger Goriyo finally conceded to the pressure building in his heart. "Father, it is like-no worse!-than speaking to a stone! And when he raved about grubbing in the woods, I couldn't stand that gloating, arrogant fucking rightness."
"P-Practicing Goriyo, language!" scolded one of the women, weak with the vehemence of the Elder's son. He spun and faced the woman, and she quailed.
"But you never saw it! It was as though everything a man does, everything Hylian is litmus tested against his forest background, and when it fails, he disdains it as wrong!" He was spitting and his eyes were set to pop from his skull. "He is a pig of Din, and it will be his treachery that kills us all!"
"Practicing, stop!" Viscena commanded as the man was going purple in the face. "There carn't be any good reason for you to continue this childish tyrade!"
"No, I won't stop! I had to endure believing Nayru was cursing me with honor! I am to be the Hero's Shadow, and yet, I can't stand the forest devil! How is a man supposed to live, being watched by those damning blue eyes? How could Nayru turn her back on me? I had dreams, Eldest! I heard a voice, calling, but- I was Chosen, I was supposed to be important! Father!" His cries brought him to the Elder. He clawed at his father's robe. "You were going to make sure he liked me! But you couldn't! I was supposed to be the one! And you've taken it all away from me! You ruined it! You ruined it! You ruined it! You did it! You..."
Goriyo fell to the floor, clutching his face, slavering like the wolfen namesake of his, now only screaming with anguish, writhing in anger and pounding at the unfeeling stones of the sparse vestibule of the living quarters.
Viscena reached out with a finger of her mind, and the jagged edges of Goriyo's mind were disintegrating more quickly than anything she'd felt before. Even among the mentally ill, there was a gradual wearing down of defenses against insanity, until the breaking point. Poor Goriyo must have hidden this illness for a very long time. Voices and dreams were no laughing matter, and for his father to misinterpret those...Or did he? Surely Farore or Nayru would not be so cruel to strike down a helper in this way. But the gods and spirits of Hyrule acted to their own accord, and she could only make educated guesses.
She made sure the blubbering man wouldn't eat his own face, casting a spell of sleep upon him, hoping to restore his senses after a good, long rest. In the monastery on the western side of the Temple, Goriyo sat at the bedside, hands clasped beneath bird-wing mustache, watching the still form. Chudley fiddled with his gameboard at the table across the room.
Viscena approached. "I heard about Grady down the hill. Why would you hit an innocent man? What made that acceptable?"
Goriyo fidgeted. He was unsteady, unready for the guilt of the burden his son bore, let alone his own. "I...It seemed the way to sway Link towards my son. I play the antagonist-"
"Enough of that. I don't care what yous thought the Book of Mudora was talkin' about, but I want you to know that ye played your parts to perfection. Farore made us all the way we are, and Nayru gives us our own set of rules. You did what you thought was right, but your thinking's the wrong way. You've helped the hero, and you played the antagonist. He's to find his own way, just like all the other heroes. What's a hero without a villain?" Viscena patted the man on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Din ain't called you yet."
"...That's hardly a comfort, Mother."
"Aye, taint supposed to be, Gorey. Shape up, or I ship you so far west, you'll see the forest coast."
"Yes...Mother."
"Stop that, too. I stopped bein' your mother when I put on my own robes." With that, she left her son and grandson.
"Your grace, what do you think this means?" asked a man named Allister. He had seafoam green eyes beneath silver hair.
Viscena regarded him straightforwardly, continuing with her teapot after several moments. "The Emissary has one less enemy to worry about, for now."
"That is cold, ma'am."
"Aye, and so is the world. I don't know why things play out the way they do. Even when we have an idea of what's going to happen, we don't know how it'll manifest, or when exactly, or even where, most of the time. But, I read this thing once, years ago. Aye, I haven't thought about it since then, but I remembered when I got word from the Farmington boys about the Emissary." She tapped her chin.
"When I was a girl, and fancied fantasies about men, I found the diary of Herlo. 'Rolling in the Field.' A smutty title, if there ever was one, and, to be honest, I don't remember quite what else it was about, but anyways, in the middle of the damn story, he speaks in Mudoric phrasing, and it always confused the tar out of me."
Allister was on his toes, as were the seven others present. "And?" the man with seafoam eyes barely breathed. "What did it say?"
"The Pathway is visible, however obscured to the Following, and yet the Orphan of Farore will part the brush to find it."
"And that's it?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"What does that even mean? It has the wording, to be sure, but how could you know what that means? Is that the only reason you let the boy go?"
She cackled and poured a cup. She was the Most Senior Member of the Temple, Eldest Madame Viscena. She owed none of these duffers an explanation.
"I do know that Destiny has a heavy hand today. Mark my words: Link will find a way to the castle. I don't doubt that he'll waltz through all that red tape by sundown. He might even have an escort! After all, what are Hylian schedules to a cosmic one?"
