Jean Johnson - The Grove

“I see. I did not know the word was from Mendhi,” Saleria confessed. She blushed slightly and shrugged, gesturing at the street while they walked. “But then I honestly don’t know much about the world beyond the boundaries of Katan. I think it’s one of the advantages of living in an empire which spans an entire continent. You never have to worry about anyone else causing problems along your borders—that is, not to sound callous,” she added quickly, and gestured at the Grove beyond her home, “but I have enough to worry about.”

“Are things really that bad in the Grove?” Aradin asked her, following her into her home.

Saleria gestured for him to shut the front door behind them. Once it was closed, Saleria glanced out the window set next to the door. No one had been near enough to hear his question, not even the little girl who had gone off on her errand. She nodded, looking at Aradin. He had a face . . . they had faces which inspired confidence, since the older, bearded version had looked equally trustworthy. And it wasn’t a secret, exactly, but she didn’t want stray gossip spreading through the town, raising everyone’s fears needlessly.

“Things are bad enough, yes,” she told him. “I keep asking the Arch Priest’s staff for an assistant, but they keep saying I’m doing fine. Yes , I’m doing fine, if all I’m supposed to do is contain the problem. But what I’d really like to do is figure out a way to solve the problem so that the Grove can be safe for visitors once more. That takes help. One to continue to contain everything while the other studies what’s wrong.”

( Oh dear, ) Teral murmured. ( She’s not going to like our request, then. Or be able to fulfill it when the time comes. )

( Unless we can get her an assistant, which might just as well be me. ) The more tantalizing wisps of information he heard about the Grove behind this house, the more Aradin felt intrigued by what was really happening inside. ( Everything we’ve heard so far suggests too much magic is warping the plants and animals in there. I may not be an expert on animals, but I do know how to control and manage the effects of magic on and in plants. )

( What do you . . . ? Oh! I see your point, ) Teral said, following Aradin’s thoughts. The long-standing prohibition of one living being reading another living being’s thoughts did not apply to him, as Teral was technically dead. After several years of living within the younger man’s Doorway, Teral could follow his sub-thoughts with some ease. ( Yes, that could work. If you can actually prove your worth in such a task. )

Aradin didn’t reply; Saleria had ushered him into her office and was gesturing at the seat he had occupied earlier. The green-clad cleric, Daranen, looked up briefly from his correspondence, but otherwise didn’t comment. Taking the seat across from Aradin, Saleria settled into the padded chair.

“Now, I believe you were going to ask me some questions?” she prompted Aradin.

“Yes . . . First, I should like to explain how I came to be here, why I am on this quest. It may help you to make up your mind,” Aradin told her. At her nod, he began. “Darkhanan Witches have a . . . hidden advantage over most priesthoods. As you may know, theologically, all religions agree that once a soul reaches the Afterlife, all questions shall be answered. Our greatest Witch calls it the ‘full knowing’ and says it occurs in an instantaneous flash of comprehension and understanding.”

“Which who?” Saleria asked, distracted by the odd aside.

“Forgive me. Not which as in to choose, but Witch as in a specific type of Darkhanan mage priest or priestess,” Aradin clarified, giving her a rueful, apologetic smile. “I wear a translation pendant which tells me what to say, but does not guarantee that I say it correctly. In your language, the word which ,” he enunciated carefully, “is very similar to our word Witch . Forgive me for speaking sloppily.”

“I don’t know anything about translation spells, I’m afraid,” Saleria confessed, wrinkling her own nose. “The more I speak with you, the more I feel my training is inadequate. I’m beginning to feel distinctly ignorant about a lot of things.”

“Hardly that, I’m sure,” Aradin dismissed. “You’ve simply focused on different things. I myself would be hard-pressed to carry out a Darkhanan wedding ceremony, if Teral hadn’t conducted several dozen in his life, and it’s been a few years even for him. I certainly haven’t conducted any myself beyond a few practice attempts while I was being trained. We all flounder in certain neglected areas of our life; that doesn’t make us any less wise in others.”

That brought out a relieved smile on her face. Yes, he’s definitely a smart fellow. And a wise one , Saleria thought. Maybe there’s something to this legacy of accumulating wisdom through extended lifespans. Of a sort. She offered a bit of her own history, warming up to him. “Well, I have conducted a handful of marriage rites. Not in the last few years, either, so we have that much in common. You were saying something about a ‘knowing’ or whatever?”

“Full knowing,” Aradin corrected. “Such a thing is only accessible to those who have achieved the Afterlife. The regular ‘knowing,’ of the sort which most Darkhanan Witch-priests have access to, comes from the Dark.”

“The place between Life and the Afterlife?” Saleria asked, puzzled. “I thought there was nothing there but ghosts wandering through the darkness, seeking the Light of the Afterlife. That, and excess magic.”

“I see you know your energy cycles,” he praised. “What most people outside of Darkhana do not know is that while the Dark does not contain the full knowing of the Afterlife, a properly trained Witch can go into the Dark, ask it simple yes-no questions, and receive a response. Or rather, a response of yes, no, or some degree of ambiguity.”

That shocked her. Saleria stared at the handsome blond foreigner. “That’s . . . that’s the power of a Seer! The Gods separated Seers from mages, because the powers they deal with, the things they touch . . . !”

Aradin shook his head quickly. Teral whispered snippets of half-forgotten information in the back of his mind as he explained things a Darkhanan took for granted. “No, nothing that strong. The questions can only be asked of what is happening right now, or what has happened in the past. All questions of the future by an ordinary Witch are given the ambiguous answer. All questions must also be asked in as simple yet exact a manner as we can manage, or it invokes ambiguity as well.

“We also do not like wandering the Dark for very long, because even for a trained soul, it is very draining and potentially dangerous, so we don’t ask of it as many questions as you’d think. It is a very taxing process for all who try. But . . . there are Seers in Darkhana. They work in conjunction with our Witches,” he told her.

“There are?” Saleria asked. Then shook her head, impatient with herself. “Of course there are. There are Seers in every land. Even I know that much.”

“Yes, and they See glimpses of the future in snatches of rhyme, or visions, or words on a page. Once they See, we go into the Dark to ask clarifying questions. It doesn’t always work, of course . . . but we can get clear answers from time to time about certain things, particularly once the prophecies start coming true,” he allowed. “And one of those things is the fact that the Convocation of Gods and Man, which ended roughly two hundred years ago, is going to be reconvened soon. In order for that to happen successfully, each kingdom must have a holy representative of their local Gods—a priest or priestess—who can speak on behalf of his or her people.”