Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Ancel felt the same way as Mirza. He’d seen Charra kill wolves before. His daggerpaw’s slobbering jaws and the glint in his eyes spoke not only of an intent to kill but of fear. Ancel could think of nothing Charra feared.

Ancel rode after the others, Charra loping next to him, his gaze focused on the Greenleaf Forest.

Shin Galiana Calestis leaned on her staff after each step up the wide stairs to the Dorn’s townhouse. She used the white balustrade and its pillars to help her climb.

Stefan stood on the landing above her dressed in the crimson uniform of a Dagodin. The five gold knots of his Knight Commander rank stood out on his right breast. Above them shone a pendant depicting a sun with lightning bolts striking in front of it-The Lightstorm insignia. It had been a long time since she last saw the emblem. Stefan’s dark cloak ruffled in the chilly breeze that reached down from the Kelvore Mountains. The sword on his hip fit him like a soft, fox fur glove. Years had passed since she last saw him wearing a weapon. Lines creased his forehead as he gazed toward the Eldan Road and Eldanhill’s southern exit.

She couldn’t help but think how much of a young Stefan lived on in Ancel. If not for the slight difference in height, the white streaks in Stefan’s hair, and his pointed beard, it would be difficult to tell them apart.

“I see you have taken well to wearing your uniform once more,” she said as she gained the landing. She shuffled over to stand next to the older Dorn and took in the great Streamean temple, its clock tower, and the blue lights reflecting from the town’s streets and buildings.

“It suits me as well as yours does you,” Stefan replied with a nod toward her own red dress with its white-striped silver sleeve.

Galiana chuckled. “I have so become used to my role as Teacher, I forgot this is what I once was.”

Stefan gave her a wry look. “No one can forget being an Ashishin, Galiana. The world won’t let you.”

Nodding at his statement, she asked, “How did Ancel handle the news of the trip?”

“He’s happy enough. How could he not be?” Stefan shrugged. The breeze died down. His cloak came to rest above his calf high, brown leather boots. “He’s with his friends. He has his parents’ blessing. And he will be able to skip classes for a few weeks while chasing women.” A hint of bitterness carried in his soft-spoken yet firm voice.

Across from them the same blue lamps of Soltide that lit up the town adorned the few homes on Tezian Lane. A dog barked from one of the gardens.

“You would do well to worry less,” Galiana said.

Stefan turned to regard her. The festive lights at the front of his home and the three pillars lining each side of the stairs enhanced his emerald eyes. His gaze reminded her of the breeze, biting and cold. “How can I? His power manifested yesterday.”

Stomach churning, Galiana kept her face a blank mask. “And what happened?”

“Thania suppressed it. Then I stressed to him to remember his training and to control his emotions.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Stefan’s face darkened with anger. “How so? He needs supervision. You said yourself he’s lost his focus. Yet you asked to allow him to go to Randane. To be away from those who can train him. To be away from those who can show him the path he needs to take. Away from those who can protect him.” The tight lines about Stefan’s jaw eased, and his eyes shone wetly. “I’ll not lose a second family, Galiana.”

“Sometimes, the best course of action is inaction. Sometimes, the best way to guide is not to guide.”

Somewhere in Eldanhill, a smith’s hammer clanged. Someone had stayed up late to finish their work.

“Quotes from the Disciplines?” Stefan snorted. “I’m no longer your student.”

Galiana smiled. Stefan had always been stubborn. “You will always be my student.”

“I doubt you understand.”

“Oh?”

The cold breeze picked up, rattling a wind vane. Galiana pulled her cloak tighter, huddling into its comforting folds.

“I watch my son every day.” Stefan stared off at nothing. “The way he mopes around. His apparent disinterest when I teach him the sword. His mood swings that are sometimes worse than Charra’s. I see it all. He’s not been the same since Irmina left. Or should I say since you and Jerem sent Irmina away. You need to bring her back. She gave my boy a stability he now lacks.”

“Some would say the same about me with this.” Galiana straightened with ease and raised her staff. “He will manage without her. Besides, her current mission is unavoidable and too important.”

Stefan shook his head. “You’ve always been one to deceive with appearances, but I know what I see in him. He needs her.”

“He does, I admit. But not in the way you think. If she fails her task, Ancel’s stability will no longer be in question. His life will be forfeit.”

“And if she succeeds?”

“Then he stands a chance when the time comes.”

“And if harm should befall him on this trip, none of these plans will be of consequence.” Stefan paced to the other side of the landing, his broad back to her. “You should’ve let me accompany him.”

“No,” Galiana said firmly, “Another has been tasked to protect him. Besides, do you really want Valdeen to be the one the Dosteri meet?”

“You don’t trust him with the meeting, but you trust him with my son?” Jaw clenching, Stefan graced her with an incredulous stare.

“The negotiations with the Dosteri are a delicate matter.”

“And my son isn’t?” Stefan’s voice had become soft, almost inaudible, a dangerous undertone lurking beneath his words.

Galiana bit back the scathing words on her tongue. “You know better. The meeting is not suited for the Headspeaker.” After a moment’s contemplation, she added, “Unless you are willing to risk his recent attitude and his lack of foresight during the proceedings. Not to mention the risk that the High Ashishin the Tribunal dispatches may sense Ancel’s growing power. Would you rather he was here if they decided to send a Pathfinder?”

Stefan hesitated. “No, but still-”

“He may have acted irresponsibly the last few months, but give your son some credit,” Galiana said. “He can take care of himself. Not that we would leave his safety only to himself or Valdeen, mind you. We have commissioned someone who is more than capable.”

Stefan’s sudden whirl to face her almost forced Galiana back a step. Hand clenching on her cane, she held herself steady. He took two purposeful strides toward her until he stood so close she could smell the soap he bathed with and see the mist rising from his mouth and nose. His towering frame blotted out the sight of Eldanhill.

“Who?” The corner of Stefan’s mouth edged up as he spoke softly, a little louder than a whisper, but with a blade sharp edge. “Who did you entrust with my son’s life?”

She raised an eyebrow. Stefan’s shoulders slumped as he turned away and let out a deep breath.

“I can assure you between his guard and Charra, Ancel will be fine,” Galiana said. “You have been particularly testy since he and Mirza returned from the Greenleaf. What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

Galiana frowned.

“There were plenty signs kinai once grew in their glen, but there were no trees covered in rot as they claimed.” Stefan paced across the landing. “The crop appeared to have been thoroughly cultivated. The trees stood bare as if it were the dead of winter. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The tracks and the droppings, were they-”

“They were the same as made by wild mountain wolves or daggerpaws, nothing more. The other tracks were human. Markings on the trees identified them as the Seifer clan.”