Tiolani felt her face grow hot as anger with a black and ugly twist of guilt rose up inside her, but Aelwen was still speaking.
‘Tiolani, these matters can all be dealt with. Be Hellorin’s true heir. Make him proud. Talk to Cordain and the other counsellors. Work with them to put this realm to rights, before matters deteriorate any further. Whatever you may have been led to believe-’ again there was that blade-flash of anger as she flicked a glance at Ferimon ‘-we are all on your side, and our only wish is to help you through these difficult times. We—’
‘Enough!’ Tiolani was surprised to hear how like her father she sounded. To her relief, Ferimon, silken smooth, slid into the ensuing silence.
‘The Lady Tiolani has noted your concerns, Horsemistress Aelwen, and you have her assurance that they will be dealt with in due course. Your advice on counsellors is well taken, however the Lady can appoint her own.’
‘I will appoint my own,’ Tiolani echoed, love and gratitude for his support glowing within her. Why had she not thought of that before? Ferimon was so clever. Feeling in control once more, like a ruler and not the guilty little girl that Aelwen had evoked, she waved a dismissive hand at the Horsemistress. ‘You have known me since I was a child, Aelwen, and I understand that you are only trying to help, but you are interfering in matters that are beyond you. You may return to your horses, and leave the rule of this realm safely in my hands.’
As she spoke, she called in mindspeech to her new bodyguards, recently appointed at Ferimon’s instigation. They had been standing just beyond the chamber doors and entered at her word, standing stiffly at attention. Their message was clear to everyone in the room. ‘You are dismissed, Aelwen, with our thanks.’
The Horsemistress was still outwardly calm, still keeping her temper reined, but her anger showed in her eyes, burning darkly in a bone-white face. Without a word, she walked to the door - then turned abruptly and pointed at Hellorin. ‘What will he say when he wakes, Tiolani? Will he think that you have honoured his trust? Will he be proud?’ She turned her gaze from the Forest Lord to Tiolani. ‘You know better,’ she said quietly, and left.
Tiolani turned and pounded the wall with her fists, weeping with rage. ‘How dare she? How dare she speak to me like that? She belongs in the stables. What does she know about ruling?’
Ferimon enfolded her in a comforting embrace. ‘Never mind her,’ he crooned, his voice cajoling, comforting. ‘Aelwen knows nothing. She is nothing. She is beneath your notice. And if there is any trouble within the realm, we are more than capable of finding it out and setting it to rights without the interference of a jumped-up dung-shoveller and that coterie of feeble old fools who used to be your father’s lapdogs. You have no need of them, dear one. You will be the greatest ruler the Phaerie have ever seen.’
Tiolani turned into his embrace and laid her head trustingly on his shoulder. ‘Oh, Ferimon, what would I do without you? Sometimes it feels as if you are the only one who understands me. Thank all the Fates that you are here.’
PART 2
TYRINELD
9
PORTENTS
The seasons turned, in the wildwood and the lands beyond. Winter slunk away, defeated, and the warmer days returned. On the other side of the forest and far to the south of the Phaerie realm, the city of Tyrineld, jewel of the western coast and home of the Wizards, glimmered in the bright sun of early summer. In a garden in the northern sector of the city, a magpie took off from the branches of a cherry tree in a single long glide and swooped down to land on the high wall at the bottom of the lawn. There were voices coming from the lane on other side of the wall, and the bird looked down from its perch with bright, curious eyes. Two Wizards were passing by along the narrow back street: Bards, by the cut and purple colour of their robes. One of them, the woman, had fastened her robe at the neck with a glittering amethyst and silver brooch that the magpie, attracted by the flash and sparkle, eyed acquisitively.
‘I thought this was a short cut,’ the man was complaining. ‘You haven’t managed to get us lost in these back streets, have you? I haven’t the faintest idea where we are.’
‘Don’t worry,’ the woman replied. ‘We’re nearly there. This is the back of that blind girl’s house.’
The magpie lifted off from the wall and glided down low over the couple, depositing a large splattering dropping on the woman’s head with a derisive cackle. Leaving curses and howls of disgust behind it, it turned and flew back up the garden, where a young woman, with a strong-boned face and abundant dark hair that carried a smouldering crimson spark in the sunlight, was seated beneath the cherry tree.
Iriana held out a hand and let the magpie perch there as she stroked its shining, iridescent black head. ‘That’ll teach them, won’t it?’ she said, switching her vision from the bird’s eyes to the eyes of the cat who sat on the table beside her. There was a brief instant of darkness, then the world took on an entirely different perspective as Iriana moved from avian vision to feline. ‘Blind indeed,’ she snorted. ‘That’s all they know.’
The Archwizard Cyran sat in the topmost chamber of his tower, all his attention fixed on the silver mirror that rested on the table before him. The images from his scrying had faded, leaving only his own reflection: dark eyes and a bony nose in a long, mobile face lined with laughter and sorrow, all framed by his mane of silvering dark hair. The memory of the events he had just witnessed, however, was burned deep into his mind. Again! He clenched his fists until the fingernails bit into the palms. How many more times would he be tormented by the same dreadful vision? Shuddering, he rose from his chair and rubbed his eyes, as if to wipe away the lingering images he had seen in his mirror.
After a moment, the familiar room came back into focus: a spacious octagonal chamber with a floor of dark wood that had been burnished to a rich glow, and dark beams on the ceiling, carved with twining flowers and vines. The walls, painted a warm shade of cream, were obscured by bookshelves overflowing with volumes and racks of scrolls, diagrams and maps pinned in any available space, and cabinets containing all sorts of paraphernalia including a selection of wines and the ingredients for several sorts of tea, including taillin, a fragrant drink made from the leaves of a bush that grew locally, which was the staple stimulant of the Wizardfolk. There was a desk and a long table that could be used for work, or eating, or meetings and conferences, and the north-western wall had a fireplace which, during these summer days when a fire was not necessary, contained an illusion of flickering flames. Golden light flooded in through the four great floor-to-ceiling windows with their broad, balustraded stone balconies that looked out north, south, east and west over Tyrineld.