Farlanders' Law (The Rose Shield Book 3) Page 31
Catling stepped closer, her gaze on the child. She squatted and smiled. “I’m Catling. Maybe you remember me?”
“My mama,” Rose whispered, clinging to Sim.
Catling knuckled away the tear escaping her eye despite every effort not to cry. A lovely tenderness filled her, a pleasant warmth and tickle of pleasure that drew her smile. Influence. “Did you do that?” she asked Rose, and the child nodded, glancing at Whitt.
“She does it all the time with everyone,” Whitt took a chair, scratching his fingers over his scalp. “When she’s afraid, we’re all afraid. When she doesn’t have her way, we’re all furious. We need your help.”
“Hmm.” Catling tilted her head at Rose with a playful smile. “I wonder if we might play some games with our influence during your visit. Would you like that?”
Rose nodded and Sim exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you, Catling. Rose would love to play with you.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Catling marveled at Rose’s natural skill. At four winters, she displayed more sophistication than many influencers, a result, she supposed, of being born with the ability. Did Rose think all people possessed such power, or did she understand she was unique? Would her skill be a commodity demanded by the wealthy and powerful; would influence ruin her life?
They practiced modulating the strength of their sway on each other, aiming for subtlety, playing with pleasure and making each other laugh. She felt like Vianne from all those years ago in Ava-Grea when Catling struggled to learn how to influence and control her shield. She’d been older, and the skills had proved challenging, painful, and distressing. Unlike Vianne, she refused to use pain and fear in their practice. In that way, she and the doyen stood worlds apart.
“Now, you don’t want to throw your influence at everyone,” Catling said, mugging a sad face. “That can hurt or make people afraid or cry. Or they might laugh when they should be careful or quiet. So let’s see if you can point at one of us and sway that one person, no one else.”
“Sim.” Rose pinched her face in delight, and Sim’s rigid features struggled for sobriety before she cracked a grin.”
Catling glanced at Whitt, and he shook his head. “I felt nothing.”
“She can do it,” Catling said. “She just needs direction. Now, Rose, try to make Whitt happy, but only a teeny little smile.”
Rose pointed at Whitt, and he jolted up with a laugh. She giggled. “I made him laugh.”
“I see that,” Catling said and then leaned in and whispered, “But what we do is a secret. If you wish to influence, you must be as soft and light as a butterfly. Give Whitt a tiny tickle of your butterfly wing.”
The child got down on the floor and began playing with a wooden crajek, bored with the lesson. Whitt smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know if she influenced me or if I simply feel good.”
“I did,” Rose said.
Catling peered at the toy. “Is that what I think it is?”
“From Raker,” Whitt said.
“Can we stop practicing?” Rose asked as the crajek pretended to bite her finger.
“Yes, for today.” Catling joined her on the floor and played. “I had a little waterdragon once with pretty wings and a long curly tail.” She sat up, tears erupting in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you when you go.”
“Can you come with us?” Rose’s eyes brightened at the idea.
Sweet threads of love and kindness floated over Catling, and she smiled, the aching loss locked up in her chest. “No. You are so adorable to ask me, but I belong to the queen, and you belong with Whitt and Sim. They love you. I can see all the love around you. It’s bright and very beautiful.”
“With your eye?” Rose touched the marking around Catling’s eye, her dainty fingers stroking the petals.
“Yes,” Catling answered.
“Can I have a rose on my eye?” Rose gazed up at her.
“Oh no,” Catling said. “My eye has hurt me all my life. You are already the most exquisite rose.”
***
Catling sighed behind Lelaine’s chair, longing to be elsewhere, sitting in a sunny windowsill with a view of the sea, playing with Rose, telling stories, and sharing giggles. She’d given her a red-haired doll who chatted with the carved crajek. Over two years of separation had passed, and during the past two days, Catling quizzed Whitt and Sim for every detail of her daughter’s life. She wanted to memorize every story as if she’d witnessed the adventures herself.
The council chamber sat its usual occupants and distinguished visitors: the queen’s councilors, Falco Linc, Vianne and Dalcoran, Gannon and Whitt. Vianne tatted a long ribbon of lace, something she’d done as long as Catling had known her. Dalcoran paced, the strain of his aches lining his refined face, his tolerance for perching on wooden chairs long passed.
Sim was the exception to the common array of faces, the first Farlander in the queen’s hall. Gannon had convinced her to attend, there to represent the clans’ point of view. Rose remained in the guest quarters with two servants, and Whitt had instructed them to keep her there with such vehemence that they trembled.
Gannon stood as he addressed the assembly and held the treaty up for all to see. “This treaty has been agreed upon by the Farlanders’ high chief, a man committed to a peaceful end to our conflict. The heads of the various villages and camps also approved the terms. The high wards of the three settlements endorsed this document with few grievances, the majority of them based on future hypotheticals unlikely to occur.”
“Such as?” Edark steepled his fingers.
Whitt leaned back in his chair, an elbow on the table. “Such as rivers drying up or the Farlanders deciding to burn down all the forests or sup on Ellegean children.” He smiled at Sim who rolled her eyes, and then he leaned toward the queen. “In all seriousness, Your Grace, the objections assumed that somehow the Farlanders are incapable of generosity or compassion.”
“Go on.” Lelaine gestured to Gannon.
Gannon took a seat and chose a ripe lissom from a wide bowl. “We must be truthful with ourselves. For more than two decades, any efforts to live peaceably have failed. Unless we accept and protect the Farlanders’ rights and cede the land we promised them at the end of the previous war, we will doom ourselves to perpetual conflict. I agree with Whitt and Guardian that no other option will preserve the Ellegean claim to Tor, Falcyn, and Outlyer. In the new agreement, the Ellegean settlements remain under Ellegean rule within proscribed boundaries.” Gannon beckoned for the maps, and Whitt produced a series of drawings that he pieced together on the table. “These boundaries include existing farms, and with modest trade, our cities should be sustainable.”
“And beyond the boundaries?” Lelaine asked.
“Clan territory under Farlanders’ law.”
“Farlanders’ law?” Dalcoran raised his eyebrows, his gnarled fingers curled in a knot behind his back.
Gannon deferred to Sim who raised her chin. The tall woman Catling had come to know as gentle and kind appeared suddenly fierce and proud with a fiery will. “Laws of stewardship honoring the kari.”
“The kari?” Ambassador Linc frowned.
“The land’s spirit and life of the planet,” Whitt said.
Sim hooked her flaxen hair behind a tapered ear. “Our laws are based on stewardship of the world’s soul and the breadth of its life. All fences will come down, all Ellegean hunting banned. We will let the rivers flow and the forests thrive. We will harvest the gifts of the Far Wolds with kindness and respect for the kari, and we will trade our harvest with the Ellegeans. The Ellegeans will be thankful and share their harvest in return.”
“How does anyone enforce thankfulness?” Edark asked.
“Not easily.” Gannon broke his peeled lissom in half. “We told the elders we needed written laws, and they complied, but it was no easy task. They’ve never required written laws.”
Sim shrugged. “We do not need a piece of paper to know what is just.”
; “They did their best,” Gannon said, looking for a cloth to wipe up the dribbled juice. “The result is rather convoluted and full of exceptions. Basically, rulings are based on the merits of a case, and the elders rule in favor of the kari.”
Her lace idle in her lap, Vianne addressed the table. “How in the world are the high wards going to cope with arbitrary laws?”
“They’re not entirely arbitrary,” Whitt stated. “The aspirations behind them are the guiding principles. I agree it will take time and patience and careful communication, but it can be done.”
“The treaty.” Lelaine beckoned for the document, and Oaron handed it to her when Gannon displayed his sticky fingers. “You are convinced this is the best agreement we could manage?”
Whitt, Gannon, and Sim nodded. Whitt reached for Sim’s hand and addressed the queen. “It’s honorable and reflective of your vision of justice, Your Grace. Ellegeance can be proud of it.”
“Ink please,” Lelaine said, and Oaron hurried to her with ink and a quill. “I require of all Ellegeans and Farlanders a commitment to justice and a durable peace. Both peoples must live up to their words and resolve all conflicts in accordance with the principles and procedures of the treaty.” She dipped her feather and signed. “As queen of Ellegeance, I urge all peoples of the Far Wolds to attend to what is honorable and trust that peace is possible. I give you, Lieutenant, under the auspices of Guardian, the responsibility for its success.”
Whitt bowed just as the doors swung open and Rose scampered into the chamber followed by a panicked servant and uncertain guard. A wave of apprehension hit Catling in the chest that shifted into delight as Rose found the faces she sought.
Catling slapped a shield over the room, leaving only herself vulnerable to Rose’s sway. Whitt leapt from his seat a heartbeat behind Sim. The servant wrung her hands in her underdress. “We don’t know what happened. A walk seemed like a fine idea, and then she ran off.”
“It’s all right,” Whitt said. Sim scooped Rose up and headed out the door, the servant scurrying behind her. Whitt exhaled. “Forgive our child’s precociousness. She doesn’t know Ellegean manners.”
Catling froze, every cell screaming. She dropped the shield and brushed the room with influenced peace and relaxation, a hint of love, laying it over everyone in violation of her oaths. Someone needed to speak, to offer a distraction she could pin their attention on, and no one said a word. They all looked at her.
How could they not suspect the child was Rose? Over two years had passed, and she’d grown, but everyone from Elan-Sia would recognize her, wouldn’t they? Would those from Ava-Grea? Vianne and Dalcoran? Would Linc? They’d met her so briefly at the conclave prior to her disappearance in the Slipsilver. Catling’s cheeks burned, her heart pounding in her chest. Lelaine stared in disbelief, and Catling could imagine her ire at the deceit. Vianne’s eyebrow inched up, and Dalcoran frowned. They knew. They all knew.
Whitt casually retook his seat, avoiding Catling’s eyes. “I would be honored, Your Grace, to return to the Far Wolds and ensure the treaty’s success.”
***
Catling stood on the pier, hands clasped above the Slipsilver’s swirling light. Waterdragons rolled and dove in the glittering luminescence, fins fanning like wings through the crisp air and flinging bright spray. The sun shone in swaths of azure between the rumpled clouds of a Winterchill sky, and a cold sea wind lifted the skirt of her underdress. The moons moved into balance, and she swallowed her trepidation, wishing for the luck it foretold.
The morning after the treaty’s signing, days earlier than planned, Whitt and Sim packed up their belongings and their little Rose for the long trip south. They’d winter in Guardian and leave for the Wolds when the pass opened.
Each passing moment pried open Catling’s heart. Each bell scraped it raw, the pain unbearable, a sluggish torturous death that stole away her breath. She grieved for Whitt, for the child’s promise of a grown-up bond. After all the separations and farewells, that magical pledge, made when they snuggled in the stead’s hayloft, had clung to her woman’s dreams.
Rose laughed and played, and Catling imprinted each expression in her eyes, soaking up moments like honeyed sweets that needed to last forever. She captured the voice, the stories, the expressions of love and surprise, the view of Rose in the serenity of sleep. She already pined, the missing like an addiction, never sated, the memory of absence embedded in her body. The lonesomeness for her daughter invaded every pore, and they hadn’t even left.
The ferry’s captain shouted for the final boarding and rivermen prepared to cast off. Sim climbed back to the dock and hugged her, the woman a head taller, the feel of her body sleek and strong. Whitt climbed up with Rose in his arms. “Give your mama a hug.”
Catling shook, her legs weak, all the losses of her life drowning her in a tidal wave of longing. Rose leaned out of Whitt’s arms and hugged her, a breeze of love and happiness blowing through her. It wasn’t enough to thwart the tears; it would never be enough. “I love you, Rose,” she whispered and kissed the girl’s ear. “Remember your lessons.” She sent a warm breath of sweet love and tickling pleasure through her daughter.
Rose let go, and Whitt handed her to Sim. He turned back to Catling, his eyes gleaming. She breathed through her mouth, cheeks wet and nose dripping. “I’m sorry,” Whitt said. “I never meant…”
She wiped her face on her sleeve and placed her fingers to his lips. “Thank you for keeping Rose safe. I love you.” She hugged him, and he returned the embrace, his chin resting on top of her head.
The captain called to cast off lines, and Catling stepped away. Whitt backed away and leapt down to the ferry’s deck after Sim and Rose. The ferry swung into the Slipsilver, and the rivermasters called the waterdragons, swung their ropes, and harnessed the creatures that would carry them upriver to the tributaries of the south, to Guardian. Light sparkled on the ferry’s wake and the vessel straightened. Whitt, Rose, and Sim stood on the deck and waved. Once again, she sent her love, every shard of her shattered heart, streaming after them. Washed it over them, the three of them.
Vianne stepped beside her in her ivory jacket, a curl of her hair coming undone in the wind. The lacy ruffles at her neck hid all but the edge of her influencers’ woads. She watched the ferry and sighed. The sun shimmered on the purling wake, and the wind danced upon the river, swathing the ferry in light. Catling faced the doyen. “Can I trust you, Vianne?”
Vianne’s green eyes turned to her, a melancholy smile on her lips. She shook her head. “I’ve answered that question once before, Catling, and nothing has changed. Trust no one.”
***
The Rose Shield continues with Book IV: Kari’s Reckoning
Kari’s Reckoning
The Rose Shield: Book IV
The epic adventure concludes as the Shiplord vies for what he desires—the throne of Ellegeance. Their power in jeopardy, influencers surrender their oaths, their loyalties fractured. Rose, a child of untrained and reckless talent, once again becomes a pawn in the quest for control.
As the Cull Tarr solidify their rule, Guardian plots rebellion. Catling and Whitt, each gifted with singular skills, seek to sway the course of the conflict. Oathbreakers, traitors, and those desperate to save Rose collide in a final battle for the realm.
Yet, a third player emerges in the deadly game. The kari, spirits of a sentient planet, command the air, water, and land. They manipulate events to satisfy their sovereign designs and care not who survives the human war.
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About the Author
I am humbled and grateful to every reader who took a chance on a fledgling writer and her book. This vocation is a solitary one, a pouring out of one’s heart to an unknown audience with fingers crossed. If you found my little creation worthy, a review would bring a huge smile.
About me? I started writing late in life when other demands on my time eased. I live in the coastal mountains of Oregon amid the moss and rain and
giant forests. I share a log cabin with my husband, two dogs, and Pinky the Cat.
For excerpts and updates on books, sales, maps, and book club questions, visit: http://dwallacepeachbooks.com
For my blog of writerly musings, writing tips, and a glimpse into a writer’s life, visit: http://mythsofthemirror.com
Books by D. Wallace Peach
The Melding of Aeris
Sunwielder
The Sorcerer’s Garden
The Bone Wall
The Dragon Soul Quartet:
Myths of the Mirror
Eye of Fire
Eye of Blind
Eye of Sun
The Rose Shield Tetralogy
Catling’s Bane
Oathbreakers’ Guild
Farlanders’ Law
Kari’s Reckoning