Words of Warning

[Liessel]

"It is a game, like the one we used to play together when I was a child," Liessel had a catalogue open to a page showing an artists rendition of a chessboard with its pieces all lined up in a set of tidy rows as if the board had been made ready for a game played by paper people, "The object," She was telling Horran, "Is to take your opponent's king."



Horran was studying the image of the board next to where his daughter's finger was pointing, "Chess, you said?" He lifted his chin and looked at Liessel with the tiniest lift of his left eyebrow.



She nodded her head.



They were sitting out on the hill, enjoying the sun of the day. Clouds hung close and heavy, but there had been no rain called for until the next evening. Even still, the hill outside of the guild hall smelt of fresh moist earth and hearty cut grass.



Horran watched Liessel settle back, smiling at him expectantly. When he didn't answer her right away, she motioned toward the page again and asked, "Well, what do you think? Should I tell Temmis that you are interested?"



As was often the case, in the middle of the day the Twin Bells tended to be quiet. The vast majority of the human members had to make a living elsewhere, whatever their proficiencies on the hill, whatever their status in the guild. And for some reason, most of the fae, if present, were more difficult to see and interact with when the sun was high. Whether that was by design or by a mystical fluke, the result was the same: when Liessel came to visit her father during the dayllight hours, she often found the hill nearly deserted.



She and Horran had the slope to themselves today, as a case in point, except that as she broached the subject of chess there was a little movement visible across her father's shoulder from where she sat. The white head of Dame Ashbroom shone in the sun. The ancient Once-Warden was climbing the hill from the far side, making casually for the guild hall.



She came most often in the middle of the day because it worked for her, and also because it was the time of day when The Bells was at its least lively. It was a time of day when Horran would -- or could -- find himself the most lonely. That was something Liessel would not let him go through on his own. So she came, and they sat, and they talked for as long as there were things to talk about.



The flash of white hair over his shoulder was caught, and stole her attention just for a moment, because she hadn't told him about that particular topic.



"Go on, then," She heard Horran tell her, drawing her attention back to him. He was filling out more and more every day, it seemed, since they had brought him here. The ghosts of what Giessler had done to him still haunted him in many ways, but he was looking more human and less skeleton.



"So, that is a 'yes'?" Liessel blinked and put her attention back on Horran.



"Aye," He told his daughter, reaching out with fingers that were far less skin and bone but had yet to recover any true muscle tone within them, "You can tell him I said yes."



Liessel's smile widened, and she turned her head while catching his hand with her own. A gentle kiss was placed upon his palm before she was releasing him and pushing herself up to her feet, "Let me go see if I can find him. I will be back."



Then she was off, slipping around Horran's chair and heading toward the Once-Warden as Amrilaine made her way toward the guild hall.


She'd catch up to the Dame when the older woman was nearing the point where the climb gentled, the hilltop leveling off. Amrilaine saw her coming before she reached her, and gave her a smile and a bow of her head. "Good afternoon. Your father seems brighter by the day."



Dame Ashbroom wore a long, loose purple jacket, the soft belt hanging loose, over a simple blouse and a long, slim green skirt that she kept out of the way of her boots.



With all the spring that could be captured in the footfalls of the youth, even for as gently as Liessel stepped, the younger woman approached. When close enough, Liessel bowed her head in return. Her smile was warm.



Liessel, today, wore a dress of light blue and white with lace overlaying the front panels of her bodice in a gauzy cloud of what could have been some sort of flower but also could have closely resembled puffy clouds, by design of the lace, against a pale blue sky. "He is thriving very well, Lady Ashbroom. There is no way I could ever thank you, and the rest of the guild enough for the help that he has received here. His recovery would not have been nearly as swift if I had been trying to manage it, I think."


"No miracle cures," the Once-Warden said gently, "but soft magics, aye. Once, I was told by my teacher that what the body demands as healing sometimes is not so good for the soul. That there are times when what is truly needed is hidden. For your father, I suspect, the quiet need is time and beauty and good will."


There are times when what is truly needed is hidden.



Liessel nodded before turning back to regard where her father was sitting, going between looking down at the catalogue she had left him with and the wide and open hillside on which he sat, "All of these things this place has in abundance, I am coming to find. He is happy here, happier than I had known him to be even before things changed in Harroway. I think he will be sad when it comes time for him to leave." She was turning back toward Amrilaine as she finished speaking.


"He'd be welcome on the hill, if he wishes to visit," the Dame told her, following her gaze. "I know many find his presence to be respectful and curious."


"I appreciate that, Lady Ashbroom, and I know he will too. He has told me much of who he's talked to, and what he's seen while he's been here, all the strange and wonderful. I do not think I'd be able to keep him away if I tried." Liessel was back to watching her father where he sat, "Adam told me something about becoming a member here. Would that be possible for my father? For myself, as well. I did not ask him because it was not the most important thing we had been talking about."


The Dame stopped walking and turned to regard Liessel with a vibrant look of interest. "Do you know what it means to be a member here, as you say?"


Liessel stopped in the wake of Amrilaine turning toward her. The young woman needed not a moment to answer, and it came with a gentle shake of her head, "No, but that is why I asked. The way that Mister Larrow had spoken of it, the idea of the guild sounded like something that fosters a great sense of community -- which is, indeed, what I have seen with my own eyes."


"If it's community you want, for yourself and for him, you have that already," the Once-Warden told her, watching her carefully. "That requires nothing of you at all, save for the care and discretion that you already show."


"That discretion and care is something that I can promise to always give," Liessel said softly, "I had only thought to ask because I plan on asking him to stay with me instead of returning to Harroway. I -- thought it might be good information to know should the subject ever come up with him. I know he talks to many here and hears many stories and if the matter came up between Mister Larrow and myself, though it was not the topic of conversation, then it would not be too difficult to imagine it coming up between my father and others."


With a thoughtful nod, the Dame said, "If he wished to join us, then the thing to do would be to make it known among us. We would talk, ourselves, and if the concensus was positive--which I believe it would be--we would invite him to sit with us. We would speak with him, all of us together, and any of us with questions would ask them. After a time of discussion, again, among ourselves we would share with him our decision."



"Thank you, Lady Ashbroom, for this and for all else that has been done for us. I had not imagined that our reception here would be as warm as it has been, but then I hadn't known what to expect at all when Adam had first made the offer for my father to come here while he healed. All of this, the warmth and hospitality -- the answering of questions that are many -- thank you." Liessel brought her right hand up and pressed it against the rise of her chest, atop the place where her heartbeat could be felt at is strongest.


For a second, the Dame was silent, but then she stepped in to close the distance between them, reaching gently with her hands for Liessel's. "Truth be told, you and he and this service remind me of times past. When our work was holy. When the countryside and all within it came to us for such healing, such help."



The taking of her hands was not fought, and Amrilaine would have found herself on the receiving end of a grasp that was as light as air, as gentle as a soft breeze, "It is good work and blessed service," Liessel heard herself tell Amrilaine, her fingers giving a gentle squeeze to the Lady's, "It is very close to the work that I had done with my Sisters for The People. There is so much here that holds onto that past, that lives and breathes with it. The spirit of those times remains still. It is within you, and others who remember it."


"So few." The words shivered out of the Once-Warden, on a whisper. "So few remember it."


Liessel's grasp was there a little more steady, a little more sure as she nodded gently to Amrilaine's whispered words and then said, "Emburu teaches us that even from the smallest ember a great fire can be stoked. There may be few, right now, who remember that past but all it may take is that past to create a future -- the ember that can be grown into the bigger flame."


"Emburu." Amrilaine seemed to taste the name. "Emburu is wise. I do know this principle, but I don't know if I believe any longer that that can happen for us in this world. So much is different. Our pockets are small, and our voices muted. We turn inward. --We are what we are now. Our shapes have changed irrevocably. But if you and your father wish to join us, let it be known. New eyes, and new blood--that is what may aid us."


"As one who speaks with the smallest of voices," Liessel offered, meeting Amrilaine's gaze with a sincerity that ran deep, "I can tell you that a voice need not be a shout to be heard. I will speak with him and see how he feels, but for me -- One quiet voice can make quiet change, but many quiet voices suddenly makes a chorus. I would gladly lend mine."


The Dame did not smile, but met Liessel's eyes with a sharpening, and finally nodded to her. "I will spread the word of that."


"Thank you, Lady Ashbroom," With her hands still held by the Dame, Liessel could not place her hand over her heart. Instead, she settled for a bow of her head toward the ancient woman.


The wind blew warm across the hill, rippling the grass and the late little blooms. "It has been an age since Missus White took a student. Longer, since she took a human one. Do you know which way you lean regarding her offer?"


The change of subject brought a small heavy, yet thoughtful, sigh from Liessel as she brought her chin back up. A small contemplative frown had edged itself in against her expression, and she shook her head as she met Amrilaine's gaze once more, "I -- am still in deliberation over it. Aurelia does not trust Missus White, and I have been warned to take no risks. So, there is that, but there is also the question of devotion -- what would be required of me. It is a great honor she has offered to me, I know, but I have so much to catch up on in life. If it is a life of being sequestered away, then I shall have to decline. If it is not, and I am free to come and go then -- Maybe, but I would need to talk with her a few more times to learn her temperament before making a true choice."


"Temperament?" Amrilaine smiled crookedly. "She is what you saw. She dislikes games. She demands respect. She always has."


"Then," That small thoughtful frown cracked into a little smile after a moment that grew with the sound of a little chuckle, "I did see true, and there is a good chance that she and I would get along well together."


The Dame squeezed her hands and then released them. "Perhaps so! --As for Aurelia, she and I have yet to speak again about White. Yet to speak again about many things. I am in no hurry; on this, I have all the faith I need."


"You know, then, what happened between them?" Liessel asked, her hands gently drawn back, her arms relaxing at her sides, "I remember hearing some of it, but a great deal of what I heard from the others is all tangled up in the weight of what the Kingsboon had been for me."


"I know, probably, what you know. You have mentioned before that Aurelia did not take to Missus White, or vice versa; that is all I mean."


Liessel offered Amrilaine a small nod, "And that has spread to Mister Larrow by association, he thinks. She was just as ill pleased with him as she had been when speaking of Aurelia."


It was impossible to conjure Adam Larrow in any conversation now without also conjuring the pearl. And impossible, especially, when the topic was associated with Missus White. Dame Ashbroom's expression softened with a mournful sorrow. "Adam...."


"Something more happened there?" Liessel ventured quietly, remembering well what he had told her about magic and the wedges it could bring, the damage it had done in The Bells, to the Folk, there on the Lost Day.



"More in what sense?"


"I do not know. I have bits and pieces, and what I remember of him from that terrible day, and what I know of him now. But you've known him far long, and you seemed so sad just now when you said his name."


For a moment, the ancient woman didn't reply. She thought instead. Perhaps simply about Adam Larrow himself. "He had such a gentle fate before."


"Before?" Liessel asked, having taken that moment of thought for Amrilaine and turned it into a quiet moment of gentle watching for herself, "Before the Pearl?"


"Yes."


"Is it -- because the Pearl is," the younger woman frowned, trying to come up with the best phrase for this. Out there on the hillside, standing there before a woman who was likely just as old as the ground on which they stood, Liessel struggled to piece it together, "Sight beyond sight?" She settled on that, frowning slightly at the sense that the phrase wasn't entirely accurate. "What it shows him has the potential to be greatly disturbing?"


Amrilaine gave her a look that was almost pitying. "You've read some of our tales, I know," she said first.


"I have," Liessel gave Amrilaine another small nod while around them the hillside outside the guild hall remained as quiet and steady as it had been, "I also know from my home that items like the pearl -- they all come with a burden. But is there no way to help Adam with his -- with what he has taken on in the form of the pearl? It is showing him things, Lady Ashbroom, but he does not know what they mean."


"Help him? Liessel, my dear, as to burdens, I am certain that there are ways to help him. How could there not be? It's not burdens, the small kind, of which I speak."


"What is it that he is facing, then?" She found herself asking, feeling every inch of the hillside that surrounded them.


"Turmoil." Amrilaine said it simply, readily, as if it were an object that Adam had been thrown.


Turmoil.



Amrilaine said it so easily, like it had been the most obvious answer. In a way, it had been. It was something that Liessel had seen for herself. Speaking with Adam, it was difficult not to notice it.



"I have seen as much in talking with him," Liessel admitted, "He seems so lost -- he feels so lost, and frustrated."



"I don't think you have seen as much," the Dame told her gently. "I mean no disrespect, my very young friend, but I don't think you do understand this."


"The deeper mysteries of it," she gave the Dame a little nod, "You are right -- those I do not understand. I have, though, seen the weight that it brings to his shoulders. That is what I had meant."


The deeper mysteries.



Dame Ashbroom regarded her quietly. "Not so mysterious," she said quietly, "but now his course. No peaceful life for Adam Larrow. No shopkeep assistant's life. No life, even, like one of us has lived in a thousand years. He has taken something great into himself, and the cost of it is absolute change."



Liessel nodded again, but after a moment she was looking out over the hillside. Her father was still sitting where she had left him, but his head was now lulled to the side, his shoulders slumped as if he'd fallen asleep. "That is something that he will need to figure out on his own," she breathed, as if it were a thought that had become spoken halfway through.


"Figure out." Amrilaine echoed her again. She smiled sadly. "What a very modern way of thinking about it."


"The acceptance of it -- of that kind of change. It will happen, it already has happened. It has already started. Change of that sort is not something that someone can be led through," Liessel gave her attention back to the Dame.



"You've seen it before? Change of 'that sort'?"


"Absolute change? Like that which Adam is facing? No, nothing exactly like that. But in all the many different forms of change I have seen, in my life as a priestess, change is always easier if it is accepted and not fought against."



"Ah. And on that note... your life as a priestess, as you say, encompasses more experience than just your own few apparent years, yes? I wonder what perspective you offer beyond those."


Her hands came together before her, her fingers twining together lightly as she answered, "It is both ending and beginning, a cycle that continues through life. It offers opportunity for growth unimaginable, but it can also cripple through fear. Aquarren says that we are living our lives in a stream, water filled with currents that are ever flowing, ever directing us, and while we may choose which stream to swim in the currents will always be there. Change, and how it carries us, will always be there." As she finished speaking, Liessel unclasped her hands and brought her right hand up, brushing her fingertips over the mark on her forehead.



"You know this through small observation, and through teachings. What an interesting person you might make here, for us, with some more lived years under your belt, mm?" The ancient woman cocked her head.


The younger woman smiled, her hand drifting back down until she could lace her fingers together again before her, "I can only hope to prove that true, Lady Ashbroom."


"Hm." The Dame nodded, still studying her. "I must go into London. Is there anything more that I may do for you? Or anything I might from there fetch for your father?"


"I am sorry, I had not meant to hold you up." The realization was quick to dawn on her that that is exactly what she had done, though, and a glance cast back out toward where her father sat had her shaking her head, "I think he has everything he needs for the moment. Thank you, though. The only other thing I can think to ask of you is for information regarding Magpies. But that can wait, I've held you up long enough."


"Magpies? --Ah, Adam, again." She nodded. "I can only tell you what I told him: seek out symbolism as you are driven, but symbols removed from those who hold them are likewise divorced from their meanings. Tread with care, when using detached language. As with any severed limb, it grows cold quickly, and soulless."



"Well, yes," Liessel said, giving Amrilaine a small nod, "But also that we do not know Magpies in Harroway. I know nothing at all about them but thank you for your advice. I will conduct my research with care."



Amrilaine stood there a moment further, watching Liessel curiously. There before her was a very young creature who spoke as if she understood all the ways of the world--except when she didn't. It was a very odd pair of extremes. Amrilaine was skeptical of some of the certainty, but the heart was clear. "I will leave you with one further piece of advice. Do not hastily dismiss it. When one is touched as Adam has been, the touch does not stay in them alone. Be careful not only with your research, but also with your associations. You can become entangled. And no matter what you've learned, this may happen before you realize the price, and before you can make any sort of choice. Heed this."



That did not sound like the simple and casual entanglements that could happen with everyday associations. How could they be? The dangers were greater, the risks higher. Liessel was slow to give the Dame a small nod of her head. "I will do my best to be cautious, Lady Ashbroom." The promise may have been a simple one, but there was more to it than just the words, "Thank you."


"Look out for yourself. And Adam, if the two of you intend to pursue magpies." The woman nodded to her--it was nearly a bow, by her movements.



Her eyebrows pulled inward, creasing the mark that was visible on her forehead. It was a curious look, thoughtful. "What is it about them that warrants a warning?" She knew she was keeping the Dame, but the question came hedging out polite and quiet words of parting.


"Mm?" The woman had taken a step onward to leave, and stopped, glancing back at Liessel. "The emphasis was on the two of you, my dear, not the bird in the bottle."


The thoughtful expression remained, but Liessel gave the Dame a little nod and brought her right hand back up to the mark on her forehead, accepting the clarification. Here, again, she had cause to tell Amrilaine that she would do her best to be cautious, but the words didn't come out quite the same. They were still gently spoken, still made with her quiet voice, "I will take care," was what she said, tipping her head toward Amrilaine.



Another nod, and the Dame went.