In silence, they rode through the city toward the southern end where the Garden grew. The streets were still full of merchants from the surrounding countryside, selling their wares to passersby. Feyns from nearby were leading heavily laden mules. Others from more distant parts of the Island carried their wares in small cylindrical packs, slung between their wings, having flown to the city that day. As it was the end of the day, though, most of the feyns who had arrived that morning were now heading home. Their wares were sold, and they had bought what they needed for the winter months.
As the women neared the Garden, a rich, subtle aroma filled the air, strengthening until they reached the outer edge of it. Surrounding the place stood a stone wall overgrown with moss. Above it, the green branches of trees stretched. As Chárlotte drew nearer, she noted that the tree branches reached the wall but did not extend beyond it. An archway opened in the wall, and through it, she could see pebble paths winding through grassy lawns, beds of strange flowers, and bubbling fountains. Looking at the arch, she caught sight of a worn black plaque with the figures of feyns on it. Engraved in the black stone were the words:
The Haven’s Glade
They passed below the archway, and Chárlotte looked around her. Beautiful varieties of flowers, colors of brilliant and muted hues, that she did not recognize bloomed in the beds beneath the trees which were as green as in the summer months. She remembered something a scholar had written many ages ago about this place: “The ancient trees are garbed in eternal summer and spring. It is here that the frosty bite of winter is never seen or felt.” Recalling this, Chárlotte smiled as she rode beneath the moss-covered boughs and breathed the warm, fragrant air. “This is the most beautiful place in the world.” Chárlotte sighed happily as her eyes took in the lovely scenery. “I have only been here once or twice, but its beauty still takes me by surprise each time!”
“Yes, it is the most beautiful place, but once it was only the second most beautiful,” murmured élysia thoughtfully.
Her companions knew what place élysia spoke of. Chárlotte looked southward and shuddered, saying, “That place seems too foul to mention here, as if it would besmirch this one by just speaking of it. I can’t even begin to imagine that place was like this!” She paused but then continued, “It’s frightening to think of what is going to happen in a few days. I feel like turning back, but I know it is my fate. Yet, how I wish it were not so!” Chárlotte placed her hands over her face and exhaled a long sigh, releasing all the pent-up stress that remained from the Council with it.
Her friends understood how troubled she was by the many events that had happened over the past few weeks. So much had changed in an instant for her and was continuing to change. The future of her dreams had vanished, replaced by the unknown. Without speaking, élysia took the reins of Chárlotte’s horse and guided it along the path they were riding.
As the women rode on, the gurgling of a fountain grew closer, its sound calming. Chárlotte looked up. They entered a small open area in the garden where a fountain stood, its water falling into a silver basin beneath.
“What is this place?” asked Chárlotte.
“Yonder is the Fountain of Varlen,” said élysia. “It’s said that the waters have special properties, for it can heal many ailments that cannot be cured with medicine.”
“Let’s dismount,” said élberteeth. “I would like to go near the fountain.”
Each dismounted and, crossing the glade, stood by the gurgling fountain. Chárlotte dipped her hands in the clear, fresh water; and as she bathed them, her weariness vanished. She washed her face and drank some of the water, which was sweet and bubbly in her mouth. The others did the same. When they were finished, they felt refreshed, and the weariness, doubts, and pain left them, leaving their minds clear.
“The Council members ought to drink this water!” exclaimed élysia. “I am sure it would help us greatly.”
“It would,” agreed Chárlotte.
“Perhaps it would, but let us talk of other things instead,” began élberteeth, directing their attention elsewhere. “Why don’t we talk seriously here where there are few feyns? This place is seldom visited except by those who love beauty and seek quiet.”
“There is a long bench just underneath that tree with the purple flowers,” suggested Chárlotte. “We could sit there and talk.”
After they all sat down, élysia began, “Chárlotte, we are planning to come with you—well, at least, élberteeth and I will go with you. Moon’sheen has duties here in the city. The mayor has already assured us we will go with you. We probably would even if we were not included officially.” élysia laughed at the thought of her and élberteeth sneaking out of the city to join Chárlotte and her companions as they set out.
“This would be better than I could ever have dreamed!” exclaimed Chárlotte with a look of relief. “I was so worried over being alone among strangers—men, to be more exact. I find myself in deeper debt to you now.”
“I am glad you are happy about it,” said Moon’sheen. She added with a smile, “But you are not in any kind of debt to us, for we do this out of love and friendship. And if there were any, that debt has already been paid.”
“But—how did I?” asked Chárlotte.
“By your excellent conduct in the Council chamber and your willingness to do this task despite what fears you have. You are very brave, Chárlotte, even though you are afraid. Bravery keeps pushing forward even when there are reasons to turn back,” said élysia. “But we are straying from the purpose of our being here.”
“There is one thing I don’t know,” interrupted Chárlotte. “What happens to the Orb when it is thrown into the Pit of Ring’gall?”
“When the Orb is thrown into the Pit, it is destroyed, and whoever has used the Orb to heal himself dies with it. If the Pit has been used too much, then it will cause an immense explosion, often ripping the entire planet itself apart.”
“What actually happens when the Orb is thrown into the Pit, though?” asked Moon’sheen inquisitively. “I am curious as well.”
In reply, élysia got up, ran to her horse, and drew out a grey leather-bound book from her saddlebag. She returned and flipped through the pages. “This is a book about the Orbs that was written by Faralong the Great who studied them in great detail before the Ceiling was placed over our world, the barrier that separates our world from the Void. Faralong alone has recorded what happens when one of the Orbs is destroyed. She seemed to have found the passage she was looking for because a look of triumph flitted over her face.
“Ah—here it is! He wrote a description of it here. This is what he observed: ‘The destruction of that Orb was terrific, and even now, I can see it plainly in my mind. The Orb fell in the pit, more as if it were a feather than a stone. As it descended, it lit up the rugged, moss-covered sides of the Pit. Its light increased suddenly until its brightness was like a star’s, unbearable to look upon, but as fast as it increased in light, it also was extinguished. After a few moments, tiny multi-colored filaments of light rose from the Pit and slowly curled, danced, and twined together until they seemed to reach the sky. The lights were an ever-moving pillar, dancing and shifting the way seaweed does when it is disturbed by the tides. It was the most amazing sight I have ever seen. A low rumble in the earth followed and increased in intensity until it knocked me off my feet. After many minutes, the lights dwindled, fell, and disappeared like dust that was blown away in the wind, and all was as it had been before.’ That is his recollection of the destruction of the Orb. It is always that way in the end or worse. If the Pit has been used too many times in the past, it will overload and destroy the planet itself.”
“That would be a terrible way to die,” Chárlotte thought aloud. “I hope that is not our fate.”
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“We will be okay, whatever the case,” said élberteeth in a comforting voice. “We must not worry about the future, but think about the problems of today, one of which is getting home before nightfall.” She motioned their attention toward the sky.
The small sliver of sun gleamed over the peaks of the mountains, and the shadows beneath the trees were lengthening as they prepared to greet the coming night. The stars could be seen, peering one by one out of the darkening sky.
“It certainly is time to go,” agreed élysia rising as well. “Snowpaws, Muff, and Tabby are hungry, and I should return to feed them. I hope those cats have not scratched up the furniture in their efforts to get outside. I left them indoors today.”
“If they did, I can help you fix the furniture. But first things first,” said élberteeth as she took up her horse’s reins. “Let’s go home.”
Chárlotte mounted her horse, pulled her hood over her head, and urged her horse forward. Their horses jogged down the garden path and down to the city gates.
“Here we will part,” said Moon’sheen as she drew her horse back. “I still have duties in the city tonight. Farewell!”
“Farewell!” they replied as Moon’sheen made her way back toward the Hall. Leaving the city, the remaining women continued to ride together till élysia parted near Birch Clearing.
“Have a pleasant night!” she cried after élberteeth and Chárlotte. “See you all tomorrow!”
“Well,” said Chárlotte as she looked up at the stars that were peeping out into the sky, “it is back to us two again. It is amazing to know that in a few weeks — maybe even a few days—we will cross those mountains and sail to the mainland.”
“It is strange, isn’t it?” her friend replied softly. “One can make plans for their life, but the path they eventually take might not be the one they planned. Lightness is good that way!”
“What do you mean?”
“You see, Chárlotte,” explained her friend. “We love to plan our ways: what we will do, where we will go, and so forth, but Lightness always either allows us to do what we wish or changes our paths into one that is better. It keeps us from stagnating. When we look back, we cannot imagine how things could have been different.”
“I may be understanding,” replied Chárlotte, tilting her head to the side while she thought. She laughed, “A few months ago, I would never have been able to imagine how my path has changed this last month, but now I cannot help but feel as if it was what was always meant to happen. Isn’t it marvelously strange?”
“Yes, it is—but here we are,” her friend said as she stopped by her gate. “I will take Chestnut home, but she will be here tomorrow for you to ride on. I will see you then.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow, élberteeth,” responded Chárlotte as she released her friend’s hand. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Chárlotte stepped back and watched her friend ride off into the darkening twilight. At the bend, élberteeth turned and waved; but in the next moment, she disappeared behind the trees. Turning around, Chárlotte opened the gate and entered her snow-covered yard. The branches of the trees above were weighed down with snow, and the rosebushes were buried in snowdrifts. Chárlotte unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it after her. Going upstairs, she exchanged her dress for a warm nightgown over which she added a satin robe.
Going downstairs, she made a meal of roasted vegetables and some meat which she ate while reading in her study. When she became drowsy, she decided it was about time for her to head to bed. She put out the fire, rinsed the dishes which she planned to clean up in the morning, and walked down the hall. At the base of the stairs, there was a window seat that overlooked the back garden. It was bordered on either side by holly bushes. Pausing by this window, Chárlotte looked outside.
The moonlight bathed the snow and trees in silver radiance, marked by the branches' shadows that fell across the ground where the canopy was clearest. Beneath its white coverlet, the world looked beautiful, cold, and sleepy. Chárlotte lingered there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence. Then she saw something that made her heart freeze!
Close to the window’s base, she caught sight of the pale, white face of a man, reflected in the moonlight. He wore a dark cloak and hood, and his hair was long and oily. What frightened Chárlotte most was what she saw in his eyes: there was a fire of hatred that flared in them.
Terrified, she fell back a few feet from the window seat. She remembered the old tales of the Ch’lants: how Varendile was found stabbed in his bed by an assassin and how many of the Ch’lants died sudden, violent deaths or mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Her heart thumped quickly as she thought, “Could this be an assassin? His eyes assure me that there is murder in his heart.” Suddenly, she was aware of a numbing sensation that had crept over her right arm while she stood there.
The man noticed that she was aware of his presence, and instantly, he left the window and fled. Chárlotte ran down the hall and caught up a long, slightly curved dagger that lay near the back doorway. She flung the back door open and burst into the garden, looking about for any movements.
No sign of the man could be seen anywhere save for his footprints in the deep snow. These she followed till she saw he had leapt the fence and had run off into the woods. Biting her lip, she turned back toward the house. Hindsight told her that her decision to pursue the man was stupid, especially if he were indeed an assassin. If he wanted to kill her, he could do so from the shelter of the trees’ shadows beyond, and there would be nothing she could do to prevent it. She walked up the garden path that ran between the house and the shed and paused, listening for anything. Hearing nothing, not even a hum from the hibernating plants and trees, she decided to return. Without looking behind her, she took one step back, and her back met someone’s chest. With a cry, she leaped forward, drawing her knife back as if to stab and twisting herself around to face whoever was behind her.
The feyn caught the wrist of her knife hand and raised his other hand up, palm facing her as if to surrender. He was tall and muscular, unlike the thin man she had seen in the window. A black cloak obscured his body, and a black hood shadowed his face. He took a step back from her, still controlling her wrist, but made no effort to attack her.
“Who are you?” demanded Chárlotte as she eyed him.
“I am no foe—only éltoth, your friend. You can put down your weapon, Chárlotte.” A familiar voice said as the man drew back his hood and released her. “Why are you outside your house?”
Lowering her dagger, she replied, “I saw a strange man beside the stairway window, and when he ran, I chased him. He got away, though.”
“I know,” replied éltoth, taking her arm and leading her to the back door. “I was going to do the same thing, but you came out to pursue him, so I had to make sure you were okay.” éltoth looked over into the forest depths and called, “Oi! élwood, have you found him?”
Another feyn, also dressed in dark clothing, stepped out from behind the trees. “No, éltoth. He leaped over the fence and got away into the forest. Firewings and élwind are chasing him now.”
“Well then, keep a careful watch over the place. I’ll be back out in a few minutes.” He turned his attention back to Chárlotte as he led her into her house. “Chárlotte,” he said quietly once they were inside, “you’re in danger.”
“I deduced that given what has happened,” she answered. “Why are you all here unbeknownst to me?”
“The Mayor assigned us to guard your home tonight since élberteeth was uncertain if anyone saw the mishap when you entered the city this morning,” éltoth explained as they went upstairs. “It seems the precaution was a good one.”
“So it seems. How did he slip past your watch?”
“That... I do not know, Chárlotte. The thought concerns me greatly, especially since his escaping could only bring us more trouble.” He met her eyes as he said those words, a tinge of concern in them. “This is what I want you to do. Go into your bedroom and place in the southward window a mirror as a precaution. Position it in such a way that it looks toward that willow tree and can be easily seen in your dresser mirror. If you are awake and you see a candle burning in the mirror, you are safe. If it is not burning, have your dagger and a few valuable belongings ready in case of flight. I will come to you if you must flee. I pray to Lightness that it will not come to that. Now please, do as I have advised and attempt to get some rest.” Closing the door behind him, he left her alone in the dark hallway.
Chárlotte turned and entered her bedroom. “A mirror—where did I place my hand mirror?” she said to herself. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she felt cold as she thought about the incident and how it could have been much, much worse. She darted to her side table and rummaged. Not finding the mirror there, she went to the dresser and snatched up her round-hand mirror.
Looking out of her southward window, she saw the dark shape of a man kneeling near the willow. The man stepped back; and there, against the dark, a candle glowed. Slowly and carefully, she positioned the mirror so that the candle reflected onto her dresser mirror. She then got her valuables and placed them nearby. When everything was ready, she took off her robe and went to bed. The last thing she saw was the reflection of the burning candle in the dresser mirror.
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