Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Ancel faltered at the prospect of a High Ashishin’s visit. His father had said it all with as much interest as if this meeting was as common as the winter storms that blew down from the Kelvore Mountains every year. “Things have become that serious?”

“Serious?” His father’s voice rose a notch. “Not at all. The Dosteri have taken affront to the smallest occurrences of late. I assume the King would rather not have anything happen they could construe as an insult. That’s all but reassured with a High Ashishin’s presence.” Stefan paused, his thumb stroking his lip. “At any rate, this is nothing for you to concern yourself with, not at this moment anyway.” His hand dropped and began caressing his pointed beard.

Ancel’s brows drew together for a moment. His father often stroked his beard when he lied or only told part of a story. What’s he keeping from me? “Da, are you-”

“Ah, here’s your mother,” Stefan said as they entered the dining room. “Thania, love, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Ancel snapped his mouth shut as he noticed the dining table for the first time. Porcelain dishes filled with food were set out in neat lines around the marble centerpiece-a sculpture depicting Ilumni. His mother placed a plate filled with slabs of steak on the table. There were potatoes, cabbage, carrots, sweet peas, and sliced quail breast. Several bowls contained creamy sauces. Mouthwatering aromas rose from them that made Ancel want to rush to the table and dig in. Grapes, gooseberries, and sliced bananas adorned several platters next to a basket of freshly baked bread. A pitcher containing crimson colored kinai wine and another with kinai juice, its color paler than the liquor, sat next to each other.

“Mother,” Ancel exclaimed, “you did all this without the servants?”

His mother smiled. “I see my son has forgotten his mother’s ability to cook with the best.”

“I didn’t forget,” Ancel said in a half-hearted, embarrassed protest. “It’s just been so long.”

Mother looked thoughtful for a moment. “It has, hasn’t it?”

Ancel nodded. Remembering his mother’s cooking set his mouth to watering once more.

“Well, stop standing around drooling,” she said. “Go wash your hands and hurry back.”

Ancel didn’t wait to be told twice. Leaving his parents to their small talk, he hurried through the dining room and into the adjoining kitchen. He skirted the big oak table with its pots and cooking utensils, passed the large stone oven and hearth and stopped at the kitchen sink. With food on his mind, he quickly washed his hands and rushed back to the dining room. His parents stood at their customary positions at the head of the table. Ancel took his place and bowed.

“Ancel, seeing that this is all for you,” Stefan said, “Today, you’ll lead us with the prayer.”

Ancel nodded, closed his eyes, and began in the most reverent voice he could muster, “Dear Ilumni, thank you for the meal you’ve provided for us today. I pray you bless this food and this family. I thank you for allowing me to enjoy this meal with my parents this day. I beg your Battleguard keep me safe on my trip so we can enjoy many more days together. Blessed in your light, we pray.”

A sudden tightness eased up Ancel’s chest. Multiple shades of color bloomed around his parents. His head spun for a moment, and his vision blurred. The sensation was as if he spun himself in a circle repeatedly then stood outside his body watching himself fall. He grabbed at the chair.

“Ancel! Son!” His parents’ shouts sounded far away.

Ancel struggled not to topple over as his father’s hand appeared on his shoulder for support. Ancel’s body shuddered. He shook his head in an effort to clear the dizziness while his father helped him into the chair. His mother hovered over him, her hand dabbing at his forehead with a cool cloth.

“What happened?” his father asked.

Slowly, the room came back into focus around Ancel. “I–I don’t know. One moment I was praying and the next I felt dizzy and saw these colors.”

“Did you have lunch today?” Mother’s concerned voice overshadowed her stern expression as she leaned over him.

“No, no, I forgot,” Ancel answered before he could think.

“In Ilumni’s name, boy. I’ve told you time and again you need to eat properly,” Stefan scolded. “Your body must be fed as well as your mind for both to work in concert. Have you learned nothing of the Disciplines?”

“Stefan,” his mother said in the soft voice she used when she was angry, “Be a dear and take your seat.”

His father grumbled under his breath, but he complied.

Her hands shaking, Mother picked up a plate from the table and proceeded to heap food onto it. “Eat up before you faint again. And your father’s right, so don’t think I’m taking your side.” She paused for a moment her eyes distant, then said under her breath, “Maybe we ought to send you to the menders, but that wouldn’t cure what ails you, would it?” She finished preparing his meal then went to the opposite side of the table and took her seat.

By this time, Ancel’s head had fully cleared. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Mother waved him off. “No need to apologize. We’ve been meaning to have a talk with you,” She prepared a plate for herself and gestured toward Stefan with a slight tilt of her head.

His father regarded him without the irritation he’d shown earlier. “We’ve both heard the stories of all these girls you bed. We don’t approve.” Ancel opened his mouth to speak but his father overrode him. “You need to control your emotions as you’ve been taught. That’s not to say I didn’t have my day when I was a young man like yourself. But it’s not what you’re doing that bothers me as much as the why. Ever since Irmina left, it’s been as if a dark cloud has hung over you. You’ve even neglected your studies, resorting to brandishing your sword to impress the skirts. Treating women as you have will neither bring her back nor make you feel better about her or yourself. If you want to bed them, do so. But don’t do it out of spite or lead them on in hopes they will feel the pain you do.”

“What your father means to say is to respect women as you would me. If you wish to experience the many flavors of female companionship, I cannot and will not stop you even if it bothers me. But take caution with what you promise. We’ve had quite a few complaints the last few days. The worse of which has been Headspeaker Valdeen-”

“I grow weary of the man,” his father interrupted.

“As do many on the Council,” Mother said.

Ancel pushed a slab of quail into his mouth, hardly tasting it as he chewed. Knowing the Headspeaker had complained to his parents made him even more reluctant to go to Randane.

“Well, that’s part of the reason we’re allowing you to go,” his mother said.

Ancel frowned. Did I say that aloud?

“Smooth things over with the Headspeaker. In turn, we’ll talk to whichever fathers have taken issue with your relations with their daughters,” his mother said.

His father nodded. “And when you return, resume your training in earnest. Take the same emotions that confuse you now and feed them into your quest to learn. Bind them to your will. Remember, control is everything if you wish to surpass me as a Dagodin.” His features spread into a wide smile as he spoke. “Teacher Calestis stopped by today and said you could be the best student she has again if you would only apply yourself.”

Ancel held his breath, waiting for the outburst that would come if Teacher Calestis had told of the day’s earlier events. But none came.

Instead, his father said, “I learned, as you must, that a man is only as good as his honor. Life is what you make it, son, and in turn, life shapes you. It’s up to you to work that shape into something positive. Yes, you’ll make mistakes along the way. But, remember, mistakes are lessons. Positive moments are gold. Collect both with the right person and you’ll be wiser and have a treasure of happiness for the rest of your days.” He smiled at Mother and in return, she blushed.