A/N: Big thanks to Pied Flycatcher, Vanilla Bean CEO, kat3e, EvilDonut, kirdane, Dickens, and Lady of the Outlaws for your delightful reviews. And to all you lurkers out there, too! Now, you're probably wondering how long this cancerous mass that was once a charming little story is going to drag on for. I've decided that it will be 37 chapters long, plus Appendices. So, let's get going, shall we? It's about time that we saw the Clayr again…
Starmount and Sunfall
Gressa brushed her bangs away from her sweaty forehead, and squinted against the blinding light of the sun. She glanced behind her at the young teenaged boy who was labouring uphill in the snow. When he finally came to a stop beside her, face red from cold and exertion, his grey eyes widened. Together they looked over a magnificent vista.
The two of them were standing on top of a glacier, and spread out before them was the vast expanse of the Kingdom. Fields and wild forests tangled together in a mesh of gold and green. Far pale shores melted into the gleaming ocean. Mount Aunden gouged up into the sky, its peak wreathed in clouds. Below her Gressa could see where the snow on the mountains gave way to bristling evergreens, eventually dwindling into the golden fields of the south.
Sometimes she missed those miniscule verdant lands, but the glacier was becoming more of a home to her these days. Construction was not quite finished yet, but the main parts of her family's chosen abode were perfectly habitable.
"Wow," the boy gasped, leaning over with his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. "Amazing."
Gressa smiled. "Isn't it? And your father rules over it all. Scary thought."
Prince Andromis wrinkled his nose at the implied slight against his father, but did not retort. Instead, he turned to ogle the magnificent view.
Gressa sat down in the snow and pulled her rucksack from her back. Her nephew plunked down beside her, still staring. She thought it odd that a thirteen-year-old boy could be so captivated by the sight of the Kingdom sprawled out before them, but then she reflected that it should come as no surprise, considering Penemue's tendency to stare into the distance. Gressa shook her head as she pulled a dense loaf of bread from her pack. It was full of dried fruit, and very good to travel on. They broke off pieces and munched on the loaf in companionable silence.
"That's Starmount," said Gressa, waving a gloved hand at the peak on their left. "And that's Sunfall," she said, motioning to the peak on their right. "Our home lies within those two mountains, and this glacier between them that we're sitting on." She patted the snow beside her. "It used to be called the Moon's Mirror."
"And now it's called the Clayr's Glacier," noted Andromis, taking a gulp from his waterskin. Gressa decided that he looked very much like her sister Penemue, but had his father's grey eyes.
Penemue had arrived that morning with her children to visit the glacier. Although the three Royal children were delighted to see their aunts and grandmother, there was another purpose for this visit. The two young Princesses were to be tested. If their Sight was strong enough, it would warrant them a future place in the glacier. Unlike their cousins, who had been born after the founding of the Fourth Charter, powerful Sight was not guaranteed.
Of course, this was of absolutely no interest to Prince Andromis, who had never shown any signs of prophecy. Gressa had obligingly taken her nephew along on a scouting trip, showing him the various forms of northern wildlife. Gressa was surprised that the boy had never seen the tracks of a russet bear before. In the course of their ramble they had been followed by an ice otter. Gressa had found and cared for him two years ago, and he was a funny little thing that enjoyed dogging her footsteps whenever she wandered the forests of Sunfall.
"Think your grandmother's done with your sisters yet?" asked Gressa, brushing crumbs from her lap.
Andromis shrugged indifferently. "I don't know." He picked at the stitching on his fur-lined boots. "My sisters are annoying anyway. Farelle can be incredibly bossy, and Sitri always climbs into my lap whenever I sit down. I don't know how you can stand having six sisters, when two are more than enough."
"I was raised by my uncle," said Gressa, adjusting the strap on her quiver. "He was a blacksmith, and had three sons. So it was really like having a whole lot of big brothers. I only just started living with my sisters after Mosrael… well, you know what he did."
The Prince frowned at her. "So you didn't really know your sisters? Why?"
"Your grandmother was a very busy woman as the Clayr," said Gressa, stuffing the rest of the loaf into her rucksack. "She did not have time to raise children. Your aunts Neryl, Cimeri, and Berithi, and your mother, were all raised by their grandmother."
"What was she like? My great-grandmother, I mean."
"I don't remember her. She died when I was young. So my uncle took me in, and an aunt raised Saranim. Eligora was really the only one of us who was cared for by our mother. But by then Penemue was the Acting Clayr, so Tirelle had more time."
Prince Andromis drew his cloak tighter about his shoulders. "That's something I don't really understand. I mean, the Clayr is usually just one person, right? So how's this new definition going to work?"
Gressa chewed on her lip to think about how she would explain it. "Well," she said finally, "your father decided to name all of Tirelle's family and future descendents as the Clayr, rather than choosing one Seer. We've found out that we work best together, because we See in bits and pieces. Together we can clarify our visions, and it's convenient for us to all be in the same place so we can talk about them and figure out what we Saw. And because we have the power of the Charter, we are by far the best Seers in the Kingdom. So there's no need for the vast search it usually takes to find a new Clayr."
"It's still strange," muttered the boy. "I mean, first Clayr was the title of one person, and now it means a group of people, or one person in the group…"
"It was a good decision on your father's part."
"Yeah, well, I'm glad I won't be King," said Andromis emphatically. "I see how much my father struggles, even with grandfather to help him. Farelle was always more responsible than me; she'll be a good Queen. But don't tell her I said that."
Gressa laughed. "I promise. So what is it that you want to do with your life?"
The Prince glanced over his shoulder as if worried about eavesdroppers, even though they were the only two souls sitting on the top of the glacier. "I want to become a soldier."
"Not a guard?" asked Gressa, only half-teasing him.
The boy shook his fair head. "No. Guards have to stay in the city. I want to be able to ride out on missions."
"Hmm." Gressa looked her nephew up and down. "I know your magic's good. And your riding and archery, too. But how's your swordsmanship, Andy?" She stood up and unsheathed her sword with a smile. Binder glittered in the sunlight as she placed a blunting spell along the blade. The Prince grinned and jumped to his feet, pulling out his own sword. They sparred back and forth through the powdery snow, dwarfed by the peaks of the two mountains, with the Kingdom stretching away beneath them.
Gressa's vision was suddenly taken up by the image of a large dog wreathed in fire. She blinked and found herself lying flat on her back, with her nephew kneeling beside her anxiously. "I hate it when that happens," she grumbled as she pushed herself back up. There was a perfect imprint of her figure in the snow. "I'm all right." She waved off Andromis. "Shall we go back into the glacier?"
Aunt and nephew unearthed a hidden trapdoor beneath the powder, and descended a short ladder into the icy corridors. They passed through a cavern which the Wallmakers had temporarily converted into a forge. Gressa's eyes lingered on the shining bare torso of a particularly handsome Wallmaker working an immense pair of bellows, but forced herself to carry on walking. She had to admit, living in the glacier did have its perks.
She finally came to a small dining area, which Tirelle was just leaving with her two granddaughters. "I'm taking them to see what we've built of the library," she explained. "Want to come along, Andromis?" Much as the boy professed his intense dislike of his sisters, he couldn't pass up such an opportunity. He loved books. Yes, that boy was very much his mother's son. At least he wasn't obsessed with Kile and Aurina.
Gressa carried on into the dining room, where Neryl and Penemue appeared to be having a serious discussion. She tossed her swordbelt, bow, and quiver into a corner and pulled a chair up to the hearth to warm her soaking feet. "So what's going on?" she asked, yanking off her boots and tossing them to the side. Her big toe poked through a hole in her sock.
Penemue glanced at Neryl. "Farelle's Sight is too weak, so she will stay at the palace," she answered. "At most she will have brief premonitions in her dreams. But Sitri is very strong in the Sight, and if she wishes, she may join you here to become a Clayr."
Gressa snorted. "How come her Sight's so strong if she was born before Mosrael did his magical thing?" She wiggled her toes to get them warm.
Neryl looked like she wanted to sigh with irritation at having to explain something so elementary. "Because her father was of Charter blood. Perhaps that, combined with Penemue's Sight, explains it."
"Oh, speaking of Sight," said Gressa, "I had a vision up on the Glacier. It was of an enormous black dog, wreathed in flames. Any idea what that means?" Her two eldest sisters shook their heads. "No problem. Just thought I'd tell you. Are the twins finished cooking supper yet? I'm starving." And with that she marched through the door into a small kitchen, stocking-clad feet quiet on the floor.
Cimeri and Berithi were chopping vegetables faster than Gressa could follow. "What's on the menu?" she asked as she rummaged through the pantry for a snack.
"Vegetable and barley soup," said Cimeri.
"And grilled salmon," added Berithi.
"With roast potatoes," declared Cimeri.
"And raspberry ice for dessert," finished Berithi.
"We've got enough ice around here as it is," murmured Gressa as she rummaged through sacks and jars of food. She triumphantly emerged with a leftover slice of gooseberry pie, and proceeded to eat it messily with her fingers.
The door banged open and Saranim shuffled in, looking determined. "Have any of you seen that jar of pickled onions?" she muttered, opening and closing cupboard doors at random. Gressa hid a smile; this was the second time that her little sister was pregnant. And Saranim looked just about ready to pop.
Cimeri and Berithi each had two daughters, and Gressa herself was a mother of three. The glacier was starting to become a large nursery, with many Wallmakers to lend a willing hand – they made the most amazing toys – but there were no sons. Gressa was quite disappointed, as she'd always wanted one. Perhaps her next child would be a little boy. That strapping Wallmaker at the bellows had looked quite nice…
"Charter, that's the taste I've been missing," Saranim sighed as she stuffed three pickled onions into her mouth. "Mmmf… I've been having lots of visions lately. It was the same when I was pregnant with Jolienna. Does the Sight always get worse when you're pregnant?"
"Yes," answered Gressa, Cimeri, and Berithi without thinking.
"I remember with my first," said Gressa. "Not three days before labour and I was knocked down by an intense vision of a man being whipped."
Saranim made a face. "Ugh," she muttered through a mouthful of pickled onion. Crunch, crunch, crunch…
Gressa did not entirely understand Saranim. For starters, the Wallmaker who had fathered her first child was the same one who fathered this one. Also, he was far too stuffy and scholarly for Gressa's taste. Tall and thin as a beanpole, not broad-shouldered and muscular like that particularly magnificent specimen who had been working the bellows. He was the type of Wallmaker who tinkered with little contraptions of cogs and wheels, not the sort of person you saw around a forge. Saranim certainly had strange taste.
"Whoa…" Cimeri blinked rapidly and staggered, just managing to catch herself on the counter.
Berithi suddenly clutched her head, and leaned against the pantry door. "I got it, too," confirmed the younger twin. "Another vision of the Wall."
"Not that damned Wall again," Gressa sighed. "I mean, we all understand by now – the Wall is going to be built. We don't have to keep Seeing it to know it." She heard a small cough and turned to see Neryl and Penemue in the doorway. Penemue looked amused, but Neryl hardly ever found anything funny.
"You should be glad that you are receiving those visions," said the eldest daughter of the Clayr. "They reassure us that the Wall will be completed. And really, you should not be surprised at the frequency of these images, because the Wall is such an important project."
Gressa rolled her eyes, but knew better than to be drawn into yet another argument with her oldest sister.
Dinner was a noisy affair, with Tirelle, six of her daughters, the Royal children, Master Malfas, and a few other Wallmakers. Gressa was happy to note that the handsome Wallmaker she had seen in the forge was present. Regrettably he was wearing his shirt. Her children, the children of the twins, and Saranim's eldest daughter, were all currently being cared for by some of the Wallmakers. They were far too young to attend a dinner like this. And poor Eligora was always in her room, still caught up in never-ending visions, cared for constantly by her sisters.
During the meal Penemue told them the news she brought from Belisaere: "Felio sends word that he would like some of the Clayr to come south to help with the Lesser Stones."
"What?" asked Saranim, who was well into her second helping of fish. "There is not enough Royal blood to go around?"
"The Royal family has donated enough blood to the cause," smiled Penemue. Farelle and Andromis nodded in fervent agreement.
"What about the Bright Shiners?" asked Gressa. "They can do the job too, can't they?"
"They're already doing the job," Penemue explained. "They have helped with hundreds of the Stones. And besides, who will tell a Bright Shiner what to do? You, Gressa?"
Gressa stuck out her tongue, and was gratified when her nephew and nieces giggled.
"Very mature, Gressa," said Tirelle, but she was smiling.
"We'll go," piped up the twins.
"But we have our conditions," said Cimeri, shaking her finger.
"Full room and board at the palace," Berithi elaborated.
"Agreed," said Penemue. "Now I have some more news, and this concerns everyone." Malfas and his Wallmakers lowered their forks to pay close attention. "Felio has finally come up with a working truth-spell. It does not force people to tell the truth, but it turns someone's face bright yellow whenever they lie."
The company at the table burst into laughter. "What?" asked Tirelle. "Who came up with that particular effect?"
"I suspect Nehima," said Master Malfas. "That woman has an odd sense of humour, and Felio is wrapped around her little finger."
"In any case, it's about time," said Saranim, hardly glancing up from her third bowl of raspberry ice.
Penemue nodded. "Dantalion is very pleased. He had quite enough torture when we were fighting the Freemen. And old King Berillan approves, of course."
Gressa grinned and looked around the table. "Let's try it out right now," she suggested. "I vote for Prince Andromis!" She nudged the boy sitting beside her, who shot her a mock glare.
Chairs were pushed back and everyone stood up. The interested Wallmakers gathered close around, and Gressa made sure that she was situated near the handsome forger. Penemue handed Malfas a piece of parchment, and he read the Charter marks. "It seems simple enough," he remarked, and carefully cast the truth-spell over the young prince.
"Now say something!" Cimeri and Berithi cried in unison.
"Yes, say something completely crazy," urged Gressa.
Prince Andromis glanced at his older sister, and a wicked smile spread over his face. "Farelle has a crush on Lord Cassiel Abhorsen."
His face did not turn yellow.
The Princess sprang forward with a very un-royal shriek, and proceeded to chase her brother around the table. Penemue sighed fondly, and crossed her arms. "Ever since he carried her out of the reservoir…"
A/N: Ah, young teenage crushes; who hasn't had them? For the next chapter, we'll skip forward three more years. I need to wrap this story up before it extends into the length of an epic, so forgive me for jumping through time like this. Only five more chapters to go!