Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid (16 page)

It was a simple domestic moment, but for the first time, Tràth felt like a true Prince of Caledonia. His mind turned to the negotiations in the days ahead, ignoring the ever-present flows of time with ease.

∞

Aaron didn’t usually allow a personal attendant to dress him, but he’d taken the advice of the other druids that one should accompany him on this trip. He needed to present himself precisely. He had to stop himself from shooing the faerie, Jalail, away every time he touched Aaron, but the servant seemed to understand. Jalail didn’t speak while dressing the druid or linger over his duties. He was quiet, curt, and matter-of-fact, which suited Aaron down to the ground.

He dressed as a fae nobleman, again, on the advice of others. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so. The Druid Hall often received important guests. However, this was the first instance in which he’d had to
live
the role. Strangely, with each passing hour, his mind moulded into the performance. He found himself being a Druid Lord rather than simply a druid pretending to be a lord.

“I require the services of a scribe today,” he said to his attendant.

“Is that not the role of Alyssa, my lord druid?” Jalail responded while brushing some invisible dust from Aaron’s shoulder and straightening his collar.

“She is Prince Tràth’s scribe, and I plan to be elsewhere today,” he said. “Will you make the needed arrangements?”

“Of course, my lord druid. Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “I expect to be out most of the night. Feel free to go into the city if you wish.”

“Thank you,” the attendant replied. “I may do so.”

Aaron nodded as a knock sounded on the heavy outer door. “I’ll be taking the first meal with Prince Tràth and the others. We should be on our way to the meeting with the princess within an hour. I’d like the scribe available by then, if possible.”

His plan sorted in his mind, Aaron left to meet Tràth. The pair of them, along with Tràth’s advisors and scribe, were shown to a small dining hall not far from the guest wing. The Caledonian group talked seriously over the meal. Tràth told them about Imena’s offer of becoming the Zalian prince-consort and that he’d put her off. He explained what his reasoning was, but Aaron suspected he was lying to himself as much as the others. He’d seen the pain on Tràth’s face that night when Douglas pushed him away. Aaron would never forget that expression as long as he lived. The fae weren’t generally expressive, which is perhaps why it haunted him. Or maybe the cause was his own sense of guilt. He’d teased and prodded Douglas, the way friends do. He hadn’t thought there was any harm in it, not until he saw Tràth’s expression and witnessed the days of anguish that followed. Now his friend tended the Stone like an addict. The Stone had a powerful presence, strong enough to make a man forget almost anything. Aaron had been the gobshite who started all the problems.

He twirled one of the eating utensils on the table as he thought. He knew Munro had only invited him to take this assignment because the others were busy. Perhaps that’s why Aaron had been so mouthy with the old queen.

The room grew warm all of a sudden. He glanced toward the door. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but someone was messing with his mind. In his mind’s eye, he saw a small, dark room. He recognised the tiny chamber, or at least the person showing it to him did. The faerie’s understanding and his own merged strangely.

A sudden noise startled the mysterious faerie, whoever she was.
She
? Her alarm jolted Aaron. With the thought, the presence vanished.

He glanced up to find all eyes on him. He’d dropped the metal utensil with a clang and hadn’t noticed. “My apologies,” he said, then wondered when he’d started talking like a toffee-nosed git.
My apologies?

“Is something wrong?” Tràth asked.

“No,” Aaron said. “Are we ready to meet the princess?”

Tràth tilted his head. “We were working out how to coordinate our discussions with her. I think if—”

“No need,” Aaron said. “I won’t be sitting in tonight.”

A flash of surprise lit Tràth’s eyes for a moment, but he said nothing except, “Very well.”

In the end, Aaron knew it wouldn’t matter to the Caledonians what he arranged for the Druid Hall. Their aims were separate.

He looked at the others’ dishes. They’d finished eating, while he’d barely touched his food. God, he missed a proper breakfast. What he wouldn’t do for sausage and a fried egg. “Shall we go?” he asked.

“I think so,” Tràth said quietly to Aaron. “I have to admit, with everything riding on this, I’m nervous.” He stood and adjusted his collar.

“You don’t look nervous,” Aaron said. “In fact, you seem like you know what you want and what you’re prepared to do to get what you need.” Tràth had always had a royal air about him, but it was as though overnight, he’d transformed from a spoiled kid to a stern diplomat. So much so that the admission of anxiety seemed out of character. Aaron knew Alyssa was helping Tràth with mind training. If this was the power of meditation, Aaron might have a go himself.

Tràth looked at Aaron thoughtfully. “Thank you,” he said.

They left the dining room to find two faeries waiting for them. The steward who led them in bowed to Aaron. “My lord druid,” he said. “Your attendant informed me of your request for a scribe. This is Cen.” He indicated the tall, young faerie next to him whose skin was so dark red, it was almost black. He wore a satchel strapped over his shoulder, and Aaron noticed spots of ink staining his long cuffs.

“Can you write English script?” Aaron asked him.

“Of course, my lord druid.”

“Show me.”

The scribe fumbled with his satchel, taking out a piece of paper. “What shall I write, my lord druid?”

Aaron tilted his head. “The quick red fox jumps over the lazy brown dog.”

Cen nodded, stepped aside, and pulled a small board out of his satchel. He strapped it over his arm and lay the paper on it. With a stylus, he wrote the words as instructed, then handed the page to Aaron.

Aaron could read the words…just. “A bit florid. Can you tone down the swirls? This isn’t a state document. Merely notes I need to be able to read.” He handed the paper back.

“I’ll try,” the scribe replied and put his stylus on the page once more. He wrote the phrase a second time, then returned the sample to Aaron.

“Better,” Aaron said, folding the paper in half. With a nod to the steward, he said, “He’ll do.” To Tràth, he added, “I’m ready when you are.”

The party proceeded down the corridor. Aaron spoke to Cen. “What’s your runic vocabulary?” he asked.

“About twenty thousand, my lord druid. If you need a true scholar, we should request someone else. I work mostly with script documents.”

“No, that’s fine,” Aaron said. “Mine is bigger, but my ability depends on the rune creator. Some possess a style I find easier to relate to.”

“You’re a scholar?” Cen asked with unmasked surprise.

Aaron laughed. “No, son. I’m a druid.” A
scholar
. His old man would have laughed to have heard that one. Nobody had ever accused Aaron of being anything close to academic. “You want to see impressive, you should meet Lord Druid Munro.” It felt weird calling his friend by his title, but he’d been warned that the Zalians weren’t ones to appreciate a lack of protocol. “He reads runes even Keeper Oszlár hasn’t worked out. Do you know him?”

“The druid lord?” Cen asked, his eyes wide.

“No, the head keeper.”

“No. I’ve not been to the Halls of Mist,” the scribe said. “I’ve only recently completed my training.”

Aaron looked at the faerie. He’d been right. Cen was young. “Perhaps someday you will go. It’s a beautiful place.”

“So I’ve heard.”

The steward stopped at a large, open archway. Beyond it was an expansive room filled with lounging chairs and also more upright chairs closer to the human style. Around twenty faeries, at least half of them scribes, were already seated. Aaron scanned the room. Imena hadn’t yet arrived.

Tràth signalled for the others to enter. “What’s wrong?” he asked Aaron.

“The princess isn’t here,” Aaron said. According to strict protocol, guests and hosts alike entered an official function by rank. They didn’t much bother with that in Caledonia, and in the Druid Hall, they made their own rules, but in Zalia, these things mattered.

“You think it an intentional slight?” Tràth said.

Aaron shrugged. “The discourtesy doesn’t trouble me, but I’d wager it’s not accidental.” He lowered his voice. “I’d guess she’s waiting nearby for her steward to tell her we’re inside.”

Tràth’s lips twitched with amusement. “No doubt.” He bowed slightly. “I’ll go settle in. I have no doubt where I sit in the pecking order.”

“Good luck today,” Aaron said.

“Thank you,” Tràth replied and went to join his staff.

Aaron thought they seemed outgunned with the princess’ many scribes and whoever the others were. As he predicted, the princess approached within a few moments. She appeared surprised to discover him in the corridor, but she masked her expression quickly. “My lord druid,” she said with a respectful nod.

“Princess,” he replied.

“Is something amiss?” She didn’t quite pull off the pretence.

“Not at all,” he said. “As you see, I’ve stolen one of your scribes. I wondered if I might have your steward too, or someone else, if his duties won’t allow.”

“A steward? For the negotiations?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I won’t be in the negotiations. I hoped to visit some of the city, specifically any public archives you hold. Even better if they’re the royal archives. I’m a creator. I’m sure you’ll understand my desire to investigate whatever runes I can.”

“But…” Her voice trailed off.

“We can conclude our negotiations in moments, Your Highness,” he said.

“Can we?”

“Of course. Over a year ago, one of my brethren visited your kingdom to ask about using your gates. He was turned back without an audience.”

She tilted her head. “That is so, I’m afraid.”

“Answer one question with a simple yes or no, if you please.” He smiled. “Our sole purpose is to visit the human realm to search for human druids, whom we will bring to our Hall. Out of courtesy, we will always notify you if we’re bringing a human through, and they will always be under our control as well as our protection. Are you now willing to allow the Druid Lords to enter Zalia to use your gates?”

“I’m sure there are points requiring further discussion,” she said. “Why don’t you come and sit, and we’ll talk about it.”

Aaron sighed. “There are no points nor discussion. We make this request of every kingdom with the same terms. The answer is either yes or no.”

She stiffened. “If the answer is no?”

With a shrug, Aaron said, “Then the answer is no. We completed our Mistgate. We can travel directly from the Druid Hall to any point in the human realm. We do not require your permission to visit our own world. In fact, after we establish points of contact and a base of operations, it is unlikely we will enter your borderlands or transport humans through your kingdom.” He paused. “However, your kingdom’s cooperation would be appreciated. We do not speak the native languages in the countries your gates span, nor do we wish to have to avoid your Watchers at night when your borderlands are at their widest.”

“You ask much, but I have heard no offer for our consideration.”

“We are not traders, Princess,” Aaron said, his tone dark. “The answer is either yes or no. Either way, I’d like to see what archives you will make available to me. If you recall, I am here by your invitation. If you will make no runes available for study, I will enjoy whatever hospitality you offer. If you offer no hospitality, I will take my leave and return to the Druid Hall.”

She hesitated only a moment. “Of course,” she said. In truth, she had specifically invited Tràth’s bonded druid. Still, they’d not rescinded the invitation when the Hall offered a substitute. She turned to the steward. “Essian, show Druid Lord Aaron whatever he wishes in the Tafgul archives and see that he receives refreshment and comfort as required.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the steward said.

“If you need anything, ask Essian,” she said to Aaron.

“Thank you,” Aaron replied with a slight nod.

“I will take your Hall’s petition to Queen Naima. We are not accustomed to allowing anyone free access to our lands, so I cannot guarantee a positive response.”

“We will accept whatever escort or restrictions you request, as long as our people and our journeys are not impeded. We do not offer goods or services in exchange for such access, but we would consider this a first step to friendship between our Halls. The benefits of such a friendship should not be dismissed out of hand.” He was almost quoting Huck’s standard speech word for word. The other druid had done this so many more times than Aaron. The American druid had said the queens were often intrigued by what such a relationship could offer, even if the benefit was intangible.

Princess Imena nodded thoughtfully. “I will relay your message,” she said. “You’ve given us much to consider.”

“Thank you,” he said and tilted his head in a barely perceptible bow one might give to someone of lesser rank.

He turned to Essian. “Lead the way,” he said. “I’m eager to begin.”

Essian looked to the princess, who gave him a nod. Aaron sensed her watching as the trio walked away. The conversation had gone much better than he expected. He had been prepared to turn around and pack, hoping his honour guard could handle whoever decided to chase them back to the portal.

Griogair stepped through the portal to Caledonia and recognised at once he’d made a mistake. They all had. “Quickly,” he said to the Watchers powering the ornate, covered cart which bore the queen. “Take Her Majesty back to the Caledonian Hall. At once.”

They saluted and obeyed without delay. When they had departed, Griogair went to the Watchers who surrounded the Caledonian side of the portal and spoke to their commander. “Send a message to Prince Koen. Tell him we’re staying at the Halls of Mist for the near term.” When the Watcher acknowledged the order, Griogair added, “And also inform him his presence is not required.”