The Steward and the Sorcerer, James Peart [novels to read in english .txt] 📗

was a table in the chamber, surrounded by chairs of a uniform sort.  Daaynan gestured the other to sit down and did the same.  There was bread and dried fruit on the table in small bowls.  Beside one of the bowls stood a jar of whiskey and some glasses.  He indicated the food and poured whiskey into two glasses, a measure in each.  He passed the liquid beneath his nose, inhaling deeply, then sipped some.  Jareth did the same, helping himself to the fruit and bread.  Leaning back in his chair, Daaynan regarded the younger man.“Now cousin, what has you out here all the way from Bottom Dell?”

Jareth looked at him, his eyes sharp, glistening.  “Actually, I’ve been spending my time in Brinemore the past few years.  City life appeals to me more, anyway I’ve never been able to spend more than a few weeks in the Dell without getting bored, as you know.  I joined a league which the steward of Brinemore set up last year.”

The Druid nodded.  “Karsin Longfellow.  I know of him.”

“Yes.  Brinemore is in a politically tight situation.  It’s in danger of losing its hold over the northern territories to the Cru dynasty which is on the rise, has been ever since they discovered gold beneath their lands.  Their political and economic influence has increased considerably.  The league I’m a part of has the task of attempting to provide solutions to this problem. There are many other such leagues scattered around Brinemore.  We mostly sit around and talk, but occasionally we’re provided with the opportunity to act.  Longfellow visits us from time to time.  I met him once and all the things they say about him are true.”

Daaynan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.  “And what is that?”

“He’s a powerful man.  He radiates charisma and intelligence.  On the occasion we met he talked about you, about how you bested that Faerie creature.  He admires you.”

“How did he find out about that?”

Jareth smiled.  “Cousin, you’ve maybe spent too much time holed up in your castle.  It’s the talk of Brinemore.  I believe the creature was seen approaching Fein Mor.  Someone must have witnessed your struggle with it.”

“And this Longfellow, he wanted you to come out here with a proposition of some sort?”

The young man nodded, giving the other an admiring smile.  “A Druid would be a powerful ally to stand against the Cru.  He wants you to assist Brinemore in its struggle against them.  By doing this you would teach what you know of sorcery to the inhabitants of Brinemore, that number restricted to individuals he would select of course, lesser magicians if you like.  He would keep their learnings secret from the rest of the population.  You have an opportunity here to help the city stand against any form of opposition, to protect its inhabitants.”

“Hmm.  Would you say that, for the steward of Brinemore, you are a strange choice of messenger?”

“I took the opportunity.  He knew I was your cousin and he approached me with the idea.  Sure, he could have sent one of his envoys but you don’t know them like you do me.”

The Druid studied Jareth for a time.  “I see,” he said finally.  “Cousin, I would like to take you on a tour of the keep but there is something that I must do first.  I’ll leave you here but will return shortly.  Help yourself to some more food and drink if you like.”  He left the room.

Daaynan returned soon as promised.  Jareth seemed relieved, standing up in acknowledgement of the other’s presence.  He really was forbidding, he thought, that face and those dark robes lending him an almost sinister bearing.  He could see burn marks on his face, probably from his encounter with that Faerie.  He had given nothing away in their earlier conversation.  He supposed that he was now in the business of acquiring information, not giving it away for free.  Jareth wondered if all the Druids had been like this?  Things had been different when they were younger, Daaynan happy to teach him all that he knew at a time when he was discovering something new about sorcery every day, Jareth happy to absorb everything he had been given.  Yes, things were different now.

Daaynan took the other out of the guest chamber and through another series of interlocking rooms until they stopped before a grand entrance in the East wing of Fein Mor.  “This is the conference chamber,” he told Jareth.  “Many discussions of great importance took place within its walls over the years involving tribal leaders and heads of state.”  They went inside, Jareth looking around him with a cursory sort of interest at the long, oak table, ringed by plush chairs and windows which offered a view of the Eastern Gardens.

“When was the last time there was a meeting here?” he asked.

The Druid was watching him, gauging his interest.  “Years ago, as many as a hundred and fifty, during the Punic Campaigns.  I believe one of your steward’s predecessors was present, defending the expansion of Brinemore when it was no more than a small city state.  It had ambitious plans, even then,” he smiled thinly.

“That was when Brinemore was intent on reclaiming sacred relics they had found in other states,” Jareth said.

Daaynan nodded.  “That’s what they said.  Whether it was true or not is another matter.”

“You told me that years ago, when I was growing up.  I wish we’d seen more of each other since then.”

“It wasn’t possible, Jareth.  I had accepted my calling as sorcerer and wished to move away from Bottom Dell.”

“I wanted to move on too.  I left the Dell for Brinemore, remember?  I wanted to stay in touch with you.  I came out here five years ago, looking for you.”

“Did you?”

“You weren’t here, or you weren’t available.  I remember being very disappointed.”

Daaynan was looking at him closely, his expression sharp.  “Is this the real reason you came today, to express your disappointment?”

“In a way,” Jareth responded, “but I also wanted to deliver