R. Salvatore: The Witch_s Daughter

“Istaahl!” Brielle and Ardaz cried in unison.

“I see that I am late,” the White Mage of Pallendara, the great human settlement far to the south, said with a bow. “My many apologies.”

“But ye said ye could not be attendin’,” Brielle replied.

“Yes, for it is the celebration of the equinox in Pallendara, you know.” He winked at the others. “But mortal men simply do not know how to throw a proper party. Most of them are already snoring comfortably in their beds.

“Or in someone else’s bed,” he whispered and winked as if he had revealed some great secret.

Rhiannon blushed and looked away, and Ardaz snickered in amusement.

“But the night is only half through,” Brielle said, casting him a stern glance that reminded him to keep his bawdy remarks to himself in the presence of her innocent daughter.

“Yes, well,” stammered Istaahl. “Their merrymaking nears its end; I will not be missed.”

“And how are your old bones?” Ardaz asked the new-comer. “Mine will creak and groan in the morning, I do dare say!”

“Truly you are old beyond your centuries, Silver Mage,” Istaahl teased. “But I have the vigor of springtime yet in my step.”

“And truly you wag your tongue, White One. That you do, that you do,” Ardaz countered. “Idle boasts from idle bodies, I always say.” He jumped up from his seat, a magically enhanced leap that sent him soaring into the air, only to land softly on the other side of the oaken table. “My feet might fly on moonbeams, White One, while yours plod through the mud.”

“Rudy,” Brielle teased her brother, using his original name, the name from the other world before he became Ardaz. “Are me ears hearin’ a challenge?”

“Then back to the dance!” demanded Ardaz and Istaahl, the two oldest of friends, together.

The celebration took on a new depth for Rhiannon with the arrival of Istaahl. He was the wizard of the court of King Benador in Pallendara, the greatest city in all the world, set on the southern shores of Ynis Aielle, and whenever he happened by the forest of Avalon, he filled Rhiannon’s ears with tales of the world beyond, with tales of the rolling plains of Calva and the ways of the good King Benador and his people. The young woman danced with the White Mage often, prompting him continually for songs of the wide world.

Brielle watched her daughter with growing concern.

“You protect her too closely,” Ardaz whispered into his sister’s ear, seeing her scowl. “She is a young woman now, and wants to learn of things beyond the borders of your domain.

“Blessed as it may be,” he added quickly, seeing Brielle’s glare.

“Never I do!” Brielle countered. “I let ye all in whenever ye might want to be in. Ye’re all me guests right now!”

“All?” chuckled Ardaz, glancing around at the five others who made up the celebration. “Where are the rest of Arien’s people, the half-thousand merry elves of Illuma Vale barely two miles from your front door?”

“Too much trouble for a simple party,” Brielle replied. “I’d’ve not bothered them so.”

“Bothered them?” Ardaz’s laughter mocked the witch. “They would have jumped, dear sister, at any invitation the fair Brielle might have extended to them. You know it, too. Yes you do, yes you do! And the rangers! Bellerian’s rangers. Walking the boughs of Avalon, back and again, back and again, back and again…” He got lost in the web of his own words for just a moment, then snapped his fingers as he got his train of thought back on its rails. “Just looking for a peek at you, they are, or your enchanting little girl! No no, Jenny, it’s not for the bother you keep them away. It’s for Rhiannon. Or more for yourself, I do dare say!”

Brielle looked up at her brother. She knew that he was concerned under his laughing facade. He had called her Jenny, her ancient name, and one Ardaz usually reserved for grave moments. “Ye think I’m holding her too close?”

“I dare say I do indeed.”

As if on cue, Rhiannon whirled over to them then. “Me heart’s found the gift!” she said to Brielle. “Ye promised me ye’d grant it if it was within yer power.”

Brielle nodded, suspicious.

“I’m wanting to go to the southland,” Rhiannon explained, and she glanced over at Istaahl. “To Pallendara and to the Four Bridges, and to all the world in between.”

Brielle snapped a cold glare over Ardaz. “Ye knew,” she hissed.

The wizard managed to cast a wink at Rhiannon before he looked away.

“And are ye going back with the White Mage, then?” Brielle asked, her attention back on Rhiannon, and her tone unmistakably disapproving.

“Oh, no, me mum,” Rhiannon answered, trying to keep her cheer in the face of Brielle’s simmering anger. “Too quick that way. I’d be missin’ all the sights!”

“Then who?” demanded the witch. “The world’s not so safe, me girl. I’ll not have ye wanderin’-”

“Belexus and Andovar,” Rhiannon blurted before Brielle could finish. “Off to the south they’re going, in a fortnight they be meaning to leave. I know ye could get Bellerian to make them take me along. Please, me mum.”

“And have ye been talking to the ranger lads?” Brielle asked slyly. “Do ye know the hearts of Bellerian’s son and Andovar?”

“Oh, no,” Rhiannon replied. “Never would I do such a thing against yer asking! I know ye want me keepin’ clear o’ travelers in the wood.”

“Then how do ye know they’re meaning to go?” Brielle was no longer angry, or accusatory, believing her daughter implicitly.

“Me friends heared them talking in the wood,” Rhiannon explained. “ ’Twas the birds that told me.”

Ardaz caught Brielle’s attention with a glance of curiosity. So it was true, the Silver Mage mused. Rhiannon’s power was indeed beginning to bud.

“Please, me mum. Suren I’d love to be goin’ with them.”

Brielle took a long moment to study her daughter.

Rhiannon was a young woman now, and no longer her little girl. Still, the witch feared the possibilities of letting her run off on her own. Rhiannon had lived the entirety of her young life in Avalon, and she would not be prepared to handle the harsh world outside of the forest’s protected boughs.

“Would ye not rather be going to the east, to the far lands?” Brielle asked on a sudden thought. Rhiannon seemed not to understand, but Ardaz opened his eyes wide and stared at his sister in disbelief. “Yer uncle Rudy’ll be going out there. Would ye not enjoy his company on a long road?”

When Brielle looked over to Ardaz for support, he was shaking his head emphatically.

“Ye said ye were going,” Brielle protested. “To study some ruins yer pet found. Ye said it yerself!”

“And so I am. Yes indeed I am!” Ardaz retorted. “But not with her along, oh no no no!” He winked slyly at Rhiannon again to let her know that he wasn’t saying these things as an insult to her character. “Why would a young thing like her want to travel beside an old buffoon like me? I dare say, I would not doom my little Rhi to such a fate as that.”

Brielle’s eyes shot darts at her brother.

“Please, me mum,” Rhiannon said again. “Truly I want to be going, and ye said ye would grant me wish. Would ye talk to Bellerian for me, then?”

Helplessly outnumbered, Brielle gave a resigned shrug. “I will talk to the Ranger Lord,” she replied.

“Me thanks!” Rhiannon cried, and she threw her arms around her mother’s neck. Brielle accepted the embrace for a few moments, then put Rhiannon back at arm’s length.

“I said I’d be talking to the man,” she explained. “No more than that did yer ears hear me promise. Now get ye back to the dancing; we’ll be talking on the morrow.”