“Good. Pour in as much as you can,” Wyln said.
My hands began to sing, tone layered over tone, as their edges blurred.
“Now, let go,” Wyln said.
I took my hands away and a small swirling sphere hung in front of me, ringing a deep chord that echoed within me. I smiled as the wind once more brushed across my shoulders, and the sphere dipped, then rose again to face level.
“Excellent,” Laurel purred.
“Yes,” Wyln said. He cupped his hands and in a moment a sphere of flame crackled as it hung next to mine of air. Laurel laughed, but instead of cupping his paws, he inscribed a circle before him with an extended claw. I watched as it rounded out with browns and greens, pulsing with life as measured in suns, moons and seasons. Basel’s haunt rose from under the tree and came over on delicate stag’s legs. He pushed his transparent nose against the sphere, and I smelled rich loam and sweet grass.
Wyln watched the stag. “It’s odd that the haunts prefer Two Trees’son to you, Laurel.”
“Yes,” Laurel said, “it has me puzzled.” He also looked at Basel playing with the earth sphere. “At first I thought it was because the moon soldier was a friend who was killed by the same one who tormented Rabbit.”
“But he’s a White Stag, the Lady’s harbinger,” Wyln said. “He should be even more attracted to your aspect than the normal haunt.” He watched Basel a moment further. “He is strongly attracted, yet he has joined himself to Two Trees’son.”
“Despite my aspect and despite me being Faena,” Laurel said. He shifted so that he could see Honor Ash and the unicorn. “All of them, even the cats, even Honor, have chosen Rabbit.”
“You were born in the fall, Two Trees’son?” Wyln asked, now looking at the air sphere.
“Yes, honored Cyhn.”
“Well, that matches.” Wyln gave a slight frown. “One would think, though, that you’d have come into your full power also in the fall.”
“It isn’t unknown to mature out of season,” Laurel said.
“True,” Wyln said, though he was still frowning. “Rare, but not unknown.”
“You were born in the summer, honored Cyhn?” I asked, watching his summoning.
Wyln extended his finger to allow the fireball to rest on it. “Yes, and in the summer I came into my power. The time of the sun’s ascendancy over the earth. Of growth, ripening and the promise of plenty. Of wild revelry, hunts, and courage. The forge of ordeals, refining and purification.”
“Balanced, he’s the crucible, the heart beating strong, the joy and strength of a people,” Laurel said. “Unbalanced, he’s as willfully fickle, greedy, and malicious as a overindulged cub.”
Wyln actually grinned. “Yes, well, we won’t talk about what you are unbalanced, Faena.”
“Necromancer,” Laurel said. He glanced at Basel and sighed. “It’s just as well that the moon folk prefer Rabbit, no? Having so many all at once would be a sore temptation to cross into areas I shouldn’t.”
I shivered, remembering tales of earth mages turning into necromancers and how even the dead weren’t safe. Then I remembered other stories—and how Kareste’s ice shard eyes had glittered at me in the Fyrst’s hall. “I’ve heard water mages are even more dangerous when they turn.”
“Not more dangerous, Rabbit,” Laurel said. “But they do bear keeping an eye on.”
“Oh, yes,” Wyln said. “Born in the dark of winter. The time of storms and reclusion. Of austerity and the spirit ascendant over flesh. The keeper of time and measurements, lord of illusions, the mirror image, of dreams. Balanced, a water mage is the judge, the master builder, the merry trickster, the storm bringer. Unbalanced—” Wyln frowned again. “The worst of the dark practitioners have always seemed to be water mages, as they’re so flaming good at the details.” The frown smoothed out as he looked at me. “Now you, Two Trees’son—”
“Laurel has already told me, honored Cyhn” I said quick, hoping to forestall being named a bard and maybe a request for a song.
Laurel chuffed. “So I have.”
Wyln ignored both of us. “Balanced, a warrior in song and battle, sword upraised defending the hearth, the lord of harvest and plenty, of wine, rejoicing and dance, of remembrance, of farseeing. Unbalanced, a dread lord.”
I blinked.
“Don’t worry, Two Trees’son, you’re very balanced,” Wyln said, “and we will keep you that way—”
The Enchanter stopped and turned his head, as did both Captain Javes and Laurel, the cat’s ears pressing forward. I turned my head also and, after a moment, I could hear the distant sound of trumpets.
“The High Council members have begun to arrive,” Laurel said.
“Now?” I asked, startled. “We still have more than a week, don’t we?”
“For the formal Council meeting, yes,” Laurel said as he held out his paw. The earth sphere came to rest on it, gently dissipating. “But there’s a lot of politicking that goes on both before and after. Besides, they may be here for Midsummer’s Eve revelry.” His ears flicked back and he sighed. “We’ll stop for now so we can prepare ourselves for the summons that’s sure to come.”
“Nervous, Faena?” Wyln asked, doing the same to his fire sphere. He reached over to show me how.
“Yes,” Laurel said.
“I suppose I would be a little uneasy too if I had to explain to the Council why what they had ordered wasn’t done,” Wyln said, standing up, a gentle smile curving his mouth.
“No, you wouldn’t.” Laurel also rose. “Nor am I, at least about that.” He motioned for me to rise too. “Now, if I had to stand before the elders of my clan or, even worse, my grandam—” Laurel broke off with a chuff, as he gathered his staff. Honor Ash and the unicorn started towards us and he watched them as they moved across the grass. “No, I’m nervous for other reasons.”
Wyln’s air of amusement increased. “ ‘Tis an enigmatic cat we have for a companion, Two Trees’son.”
Captain Javes and the doyen joined us as we made our way back into the castle. When we reached the main stairs, we would’ve continued on up to our chambers but Wyln stopped us. “No, we shall go and wait upon His Grace’s pleasure.” He caught my glance at the captain and me doyen. “Oh, your chaperons may come too, Two Trees’-son.”
Not waiting for a response from any of us, he turned and headed for the audience hall—so I thought. The Enchanter, however, led us past the hall’s closed double doors and around a corner to a smaller staircase. At the top of the stairs were guards, who stepped aside when they saw Wyln. The Enchanter opened the door without knocking and entered, but only Laurel followed him as Javes, Allwyn, the haunts, and I all stopped at the threshold, peering in. As I stared at the heraldic banners on the antechamber walls, I took a step back, Javes and the rest moving with me. We were not about to go into the Fyrst’s private rooms without a specific invitation from His Grace himself. Preferably an engraved one presented on a velvet cushion with a flourish of trumpets.
“I say,” Javes said, “why don’t we just meet you when you’re done. Wouldn’t want to intrude upon His Grace when he has important visitors, what? You know, affairs of state and all that.”
“You’ve brought them,” the Fyrst said from behind us and we spun around to see him climbing the stairs, with more guards at his back. “Excellent.” The guards joined the ones already stationed at the door, and His Grace moved past us into the foyer. “Come in.”
Encouraged by the guards, we followed the Fyrst through the small chamber into what appeared to be the Fyrst’s council room. He led us past shelves filled with books and scrolls, a map table, another table with carved chairs around it, to more chairs set in front of the fireplace. “Tea,” he said to a servant who silently appeared, bowed, and just as silently disappeared.