Story 15. Point of no return.
The funeral pyre was made at the Valaphire bank the next evening. Standing in a group of Apprentices wearing black, Gryvon was looking at the fire. With all his inability to take his cue from a situation at once, which Ashka criticized so often, he understood, had to understand that changes were to follow in their country. And that they will be hard…
Ashka was standing among other Spellbinders, not too far. She was absolutely calm. She remained imperturbable when Gareth was laid on the satin cover. Or when Lukan told about all the lifetime advantages and merits of the dead Spellbinder and then went forward with a torch in his hand… She also knew about the future changes. She knew that she was to take Gareth's place in the Council. She knew about the difficulties.
Both the Apprentice and the Spellbinder were confident about the future. They had expectations. But as it often happens, the expectations were defeated. Three days later Ashka was called to the hall of the Council…
"…What do you mean "the place is already taken"? It's not the market of Rivertown!"
"Ashka, mind your language!" – Lukan interrupted her, frowning. Marna, who was sitting next to him, interfered.
"I am really sorry, Ashka, but the place in the Council will be taken by Correon".
"Why?"
"Because he is older and wiser", - Marna answered.
Ashka's eyes widened.
"Older and wiser? So you consider me as a silly child? You are also…", - she stopped, looking at Marna with confusion.
"You mean I am also young? – The woman guessed. - You are right, our age difference is not too big. But Tark left his place during his lifetime and gave official instructions about my appointment. As for this situation, - the Regent made a helpless gesture, - we got no instructions".
"But Gareth told about it for so many times! – Ashka exclaimed. - He wanted me to take his place after his death!"
"Stop it! – Lukan's palm hit the table. - What's done is done. When Gareth had spoken about it, he had no idea one beautiful evening he would fall down the stairs. He spoke about the distant future, not the nearest one".
Ashka made a step backward, watching their faces.
"You can't do this to me! – She said. - To him! To his will!"
"Ashka, be sensible, - breaking the conventionalities, Marna stood up and went to the Spellbinder, - I know nobody could predict it… Did Gareth give you any papers, letters?"
She shook her head.
"No…"
"You see, it means there were no instructions, - Marna concluded, - as for me, I can tell you that if Lukan or me would have gotten any indications, we would have let you know at once. But alas, - The Regent sighed, - no papers had been found or gotten. So you can not inherit his place in the Council…"
Still not believing, Ashka moved backward.
"I am very sorry, - Marna repeated, - but…"
"But Correon will be the Regent, - Lukan finished for her, - this is it. And let's finish with it. The initiation will be tomorrow, in the morning, And then the oath of allegiance will be taken".
Thinking the conversation is over, he stood up. Ashka felt everything was boiling inside her. The vision darkened. Turning around, she opened the doors and ran from the hall, nearly knocking off two guards standing there. Marble steps were streaking under her feet.
"Ashka, wait!" – somebody caught her elbow.
"Get out!" – the Spellbinder shouted, trying to break free. But then she saw it was Gryvon.
"What's the matter? – the young man asked, keeping up with woman's quick walking. - Did you speak to them?"
"Oh yes! – She said caustically, almost running. - It's Correon who will be the third Regent! What a surprise!"
"What? – Gryvon stopped for a second, not able to believe. - It's not possible!"
"Yes. It is, - the Spellbinder said sternly, opening the door to her room where the servants were cleaning up, - get put from here!"
The girls didn't need to be told twice, silently they went to the corridor. Staying alone with Gryvon, Ashka went to the table, leaning on it.
"My appointment had to exist in written form, - she said with anger in her voice, - apparently, Gareth didn't have time or didn't think about it. Waited for a moment, I suppose. And now…, - she took the vase from a sill and threw it to the wall. Gryvon wasn't standing on a fiery line, but he took a step backward, looking at the rain of fragments.
"… Now my place is taken by this old fool Correon! When did they choose him? Only several days passed!"
"But what about Gareth's will? – Gryvon asked. - Don't they know he'd made a decision long ago?"
"Oh they do know, - the Spellbinder said caustically, - they do, but they think it's better this way".
Turning from her Apprentice she looked out of the window. Ringing stressful silence covered everything. Gryvon didn't come closer, staying at his place.
"Can't we do anything?" – he mumbled.
Suddenly the Spellbinder laughed. Her laughter, strange and so unexpected, made the young man shiver.
"No, Gryvon, we can't do anything, - she said, laughing, - and we won't. For now. Tomorrow morning there will be the Initiation. We will be there. We will admire the new Regent, smiling, and then he will take the oath of allegiance".
"But why? – Gryvon exclaimed, not understanding. - you give up and accept him?"
The Spellbinder stopped laughing, but was still smiling. Her smile was unkind.
"I will swear an oath, - the woman repeated, - and I will obey all the Regent's orders for having my revenge one day".
Her smile became wider and more dangerous.
"I will have my revenge upon the Council and cut the ground from under their feet. I'll do the same thing to them they did to me today. I'll make them remember Gareth and me".
She came closer to her Apprentice, squeezing his hand painfully.
"You'll help me, Gryvon. They all will regret about it, all. Marna, this stupid goose, Lukan with his strange ideas, and Correon. Correon that took something meant for me".
Gryvon swallowed, hardly believing his ears.
"Are you serious?'
"Absolutely, - Ashka nodded calmly, - we will keep a low profile and wait. Wait for the right moment to come. Once it will come and then I will strike a blow…"
End of part one.