"How are they?"
"Not good," Sinjin's uncle Chase said, and Sinjin pulled his knees tighter, trying to will himself out of existence. It was all his fault.
"Do you know what happened?" the voice Sinjin could not quite place asked quietly.
"No, not really." Chase hesitated. "Our best guess is that someone is interfering with their return. They've both traveled before, and I think they would have found their way back unless someone hampered them, as Prios once did to Catrin."
Sinjin's heart beat fast. He was sure they would hear his quickened breathing. How would he explain his eavesdropping, especially now that they were discussing things that were normally kept hidden from him? Their family history was not entirely unknown to him, but certain details were never discussed in his presence.
"What can we do to help?"
"Keep your eyes open for Sinjin and hope for the best, I suppose," Chase said. The pain in his voice brought Sinjin to tears. Guilt stabbed at him, but he remained silent.
"Our prayers are with you."
The footsteps faded into the distance, and Sinjin knew he needed to get back to the infirmary. A whiff of his now warm food made his stomach growl, but he froze in fear as a shadow detached itself from a nearby alcove and moved along the hallway slowly as if afraid to be seen. Sinjin willed his stomach to silence as the figure melted back into the shadows. Afraid to move, Sinjin waited in terrified silence.
Chase paced the polished granite floors of the war room, waiting for the rest to arrive. With consensus unachievable, the tension at these meetings had been growing for months, and the present crisis stood only to exacerbate the situation. With a deep sigh, he looked up. Around a table hewn from the very rock that surrounded him, oppressing him, sat three of the five people he expected. Two chairs would remain empty, a fact that haunted all of them. The chairs had been a gift from Jharmin Kyte, the husband of Catrin's cousin. It was said that Lady Lissa broke every vase within Wolfhold when she found out. The chairs themselves were a marvel. Carvings of dragons wrapped around the arms and legs. Gilded threads woven by the hands of a master graced stiff cushions, which Chase thought were far nicer to look at than to sit upon.
Strom sat, tracing the designs on the outer edge of the table with his fingertips. The construction of this place had baffled him from the first time he'd entered it, and Chase could see his mind working, trying to figure out just how the ancients had done it.
Brother Vaughn and his wife, Mirta, huddled in quiet conversation, discussing the condition of Catrin and Prios. Chase couldn't keep from listening, and he did his best not to despair. When Martik and Miss Mariss arrived, he nearly snapped at them, but the platters of food they carried greatly improved his mood.
"If Catrin were here," Miss Mariss said, "she'd grumble that none of this food was grown within Dragonhold, so I'll do it for her. 'We need to grow more food within the hold. We must be self-sufficient, or all we've done will be for naught.' Now eat up." There was a catch in her voice, and the food was consumed in relative silence.
When the trays were empty, the silence remained. Finally, Chase cleared his throat. "I know we all wish Catrin and Prios were here, so let's just get on with the usual business, and then we can talk about what, if anything, can be done to help them. Agreed?"
All those assembled nodded.
"The guards are in order and are on high alert. I have men looking for Sinjin, and once we find him, we'll be keeping a closer watch on him. I shouldn't have let him out of my sight, and I won't make that mistake again. As for the finances, things are as grim as ever. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep paying the number of men required to protect us. That's my report."
"The smithy is fully operational, but we need more ore. As I've said before, we either need to start new mines or reopen some of the old mines. All the good mines are south of the wall, and Edling will just raise the prices and drain our coffers. If we create new mines as extensions of the keep, then we might be able to create additional open areas for some sort of agriculture."
"With the number of herald globes it would take to provide enough light to grow anything," Brother Vaughn said, "we could sell the globes and import our food supplies."
"There's still the possibility of growing mushrooms in the dark," Miss Mariss interrupted. "Then we only need light to harvest them."
"Even if we can grow enough mushrooms to feed the hold, we can't live off mushrooms alone," Martik added.
"Can we at least agree that we should invest more time working on mushroom farming methods?" Chase asked with an edge to his voice.
The others nodded.
"On a positive note," Mirta interjected, "our herb- and flower-drying efforts have provided enough medicinal herbs and spices to last at least three winters. Our stockpiles of nuts and dried fruits are also enough to last several seasons with proper rationing."
Chase tried not to frown, knowing even that success would not satisfy Catrin. If the hold were ever to be truly self-sufficient, they would need to find ways to satisfy all of their needs from within the hold. While Chase understood her motivations, every passing day made it more difficult to convince people that the hold needed to be self-sufficient. A warming weather trend had brought bountiful harvests, and the populations north and south of the wall were growing rapidly. The darkness of Catrin's visions seemed worlds away, and there were few people who believed they would ever need the protection Catrin so desperately sought to prepare. These thoughts weren't new, and he'd yet to find a solution, so Chase set his jaw and committed himself to simply making forward progress.
"The fishery remains healthy, and we've found a kind of pond moss that grows well in low light. Berman Ross found it in a cave down south, and since we've introduced it to the waters, it has flourished. We may be able to create a sustainable fishery yet."
This effort at least was one that everyone was behind. If the subterranean lake now known as the God's Eye could prove a reliable source for food and fresh water, then it truly would be a gift from the gods.
"How about your efforts, Brother Vaughn?" Chase asked. "Have you found anything new?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. I've found more references that confirm the keep once had fresh water running throughout, but I can find nothing to indicate the source. The basins and channels throughout the hold make it obvious that water once flowed, but what needs to be done to make it flow once again is a complete mystery. This whole keep is enough to relieve a man of his wits. Hidden chambers, hallways that go nowhere, strange runes that seem impossible to re-create-truly the ancients knew a great many things we do not."
"Perhaps we should consider sending another envoy to meet with Thorakis," Miss Mariss said.
"We've already sent two envoys, and neither has returned. I think we've already received our answer," Chase said then took a deep breath, preparing himself for Miss Mariss's reaction to that statement.
"I wish I knew what happened to those men!" she blurted, surprising Chase, who suddenly found himself coughing. "If they're on the Greatland getting fat and leaving us to our fate, why I'll. ." Miss Mariss continued under her breath, but her words were not meant or fit for the ears of others.
Chase shared her frustration. Since the end of what was now called the Herald War, it seemed every bit of news from the Greatland was tied in some way to a man most called Thorakis the Builder. Some called him Thorakis the Savior, but that name was less popular here on the Godfist. Regardless, the man's accomplishments were undeniable, and already people around the world, including present company, were trying to figure out how to duplicate some of his feats. The establishment of an enormous fishery had been his initial achievement. Feeding the masses gave him the ability to effect great change. Every achievement brought more people to his cause, and those people further increased his ability to achieve the otherwise unachievable.