Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

The Old One

The tall stone walls of Hortum Mirabilem (garden of magic in Falconchant), commonly known as First Garden or simply The Garden, conceal acres of woods, fields, orchards, and garden beds criss-crossed with winding paths. Follow any path long enough and you will probably find your way to the little village where, on that particular evening, the windows of dozens of cottages winked with hastily lit candles as elders hurried to dress. A mournful old bronze bell had rung them out of their beds in the darkness.

Beeswax candle lanterns bobbed sweetly along dark paths as cloaked women converged on a long building made of stone. They were greeted at the door by an elder in stiff black wool. It was Abdera, one of the most senior of the Fena, hurrying them toward their seats; those with highest status toward the front benches, the others toward the middle or back. Once the room was largely full, Abdera clapped her hands. "Quiet! Our Old One is about to arrive."

The door creaked open behind her, but it was not the Old One, it was the youngest member of their order, a girl in her late teens with piercing dark-brown eyes, a smooth, olive-brown face, and an extraordinary length of thick braids down her back. (She had been admitted the pervious spring, when she had arrived at the gate in the form of a wolf, an exceptionally difficult shift. Nautilus thought a girl with so much raw talent might prove valuable and should not be passed up, despite Vultan's prohibition of magical training for anyone but his own apprentices. "As long as he doesn't find out," she'd said.)

"June!" Abdera admonished. "You're late as usual. Go take a seat in back."

"I wouldn't be late," June pointed out, "if you hadn't thrown me out of the dormitory and sent me to live in the most remote of cottages. It's almost as if you don't want me to participate in— Never mind." The door had begun to creak open again, and June hurried toward her seat.

Abdera bowed deeply before the massive figure filling the doorway as she intoned, Servo noster Antiquissima! (meaning, 'Preserve our Old One').

Nautilus had leathery, tightly wrinkled skin, sea-blue eyes, and grizzled gray hair pulled up into a thick bun from which wooden hair-pins protruded at irregular angles. She was wearing a voluminous cloak of sand-colored felt, embroidered with dozens of green sea turtles crawling toward bright blue waves near the hem. On her feet were boat-like wooden clogs coming to a stubby point in front. She waved a large, dismissive hand. "You're in my way," she growled.

Abdera scurried up the aisle and took a seat in the front row while Nautilus marched to the front, thumped up the steps of the raised platform, and took her own seat at the High Table. Her eyes scanned the crowded room before settling somewhere near the middle. "Arnica," she said.

A plump little woman with tight gray curls and a cheerful face looked startled. "Who, me?" she squeaked.

"There is no one else by your name."

"No, of course not." Arnica smiled nervously.

"Pay attention! You are notoriously soft-hearted, and you are known to have occasional discourse with exiles. What I have to say applies to you especially."

"Yes, Old One," Arnica replied, "but I don't quite understand what you're saying."

"I haven't said it yet. And you, Onuma." Nautilus's gaze shifted to the woman next to Arnica, whose straight back and neat gray hair complimented her keen gray eyes. "Do not allow Arnica to do anything foolish. I know the influence you have over her."

"My assigned duties are in the Library."

"I'm expanding the scope of your assignment. See to it that Arnica does not get out of line! Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite." Onuma's frown deepened.

Nautilus tapped her heavy fingers on the table. "You know that I, your Antiquissima, have a deep responsibility to study the tides of events. Tonight I have sensed a tide that may sweep trouble to our gate." She glanced at the front row, where Abdera and a dozen other white-haired women were sitting, attentive expressions on their deeply wrinkled faces.

"Yes, Old One," they responded in chorus.

"Yes. And I also sense," Nautilus continued, "that at least one of our exiled members will be caught in this tide, and that it may prove too strong for her. She may be tempted to contact us here in The Garden to seek our assistance. If someone were, for instance, to ask us for help in healing illnesses or injuries..." She paused for dramatic effect. "If that were to happen, it would be important to tell me about it at once." After another pause, she added, "That is all. Does anyone have anything worthwhile to add before we adjourn?"

"Will we meet tomorrow to receive an update on these events?" It was one of the elders in the front row.

"We are adjourning sine die. I see no need for further assemblies, assuming that everyone follows my instructions."

"Of course," the elder who had asked the question responded. "Your wisdom is our shield."

"Then we are done," Nautilus said. "Return to your— What is it, Aster?" A woman several rows back had raised her hand.

"Pardon me, Old One, but I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?"

"What is going on. You didn't actually tell us, and I must confess, I'm dying to know."

"Aster," Nautilus said, her voice smooth but her eyes narrowed, "you have heard your instructions. Don't allow your lust for gossip to distract you from your duties."

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry! I only meant to ask, I mean, I was simply wondering, actually, I imagine we're all wondering, what has happened."

"Nothing. Not yet."

"But then why the midnight gathering? I do apologize, but of course one can't help but be curious!"

Nautilus stared up at the rough hewn beams of the high ceiling and sighed. Bringing her eyes back down, she glared at Aster. "I suppose you can't. Annoying, but such is the way when dealing with lesser personalities. All right, I shall tell you this much. A sorcerous illness will spread amongst the children up in Falcysine. If anyone appeals to us for help, we must take a stand and refuse to leave The Garden. It is a trap that we will not walk into. Sometimes even the young and innocent must be sacrificed for greater purpose."

Onuma leaned forward and said, "Excuse me, but what is this greater purpose to which you refer?"

"Maintaining the integrity and safety of the Fena, of course," Nautilus snapped. "We are the last link to the Silvani now that the royal family is gone, and we have a grave responsibility to maintain our strength in their absence."

"Do we? To what end?" Onuma asked. "Until we eventually go to our graves, leaving this garden to become overgrown with weeds while sorcerers pillage the rest of the land?" (June started at this, perhaps wondering if she, as the youngest, would have to bury the rest of them.)

"You are hardly in a position to see such matters clearly," Nautilus snapped. "There is nothing in that musty library of yours about current events. Now, if anyone else has any questions?" She glared around the room as if daring anyone to speak. No one did. "Very well! Return to your slumbers. Should anything important occur, you will be notified in the morning." Her chair grated as she got up. With a rustling of sand-colored robes, she strode down the middle aisle, ignoring the many elders who bowed their heads at her passing. Abdera, who had scurried on ahead with a lantern, held the door, then followed her outside.