Days Of Light And Shadow (78 page)

A figure appeared, walking across the common from the side and it took a moment for Iros to realise who it was wearing the robes of an elder. Then he spotted his blue hair.

“Is that -?” It was though, and he let his question trail off, knowing that there was no point in it. It was Finell. A year after he had last seen him, but looking much the same. A little less dishevelled perhaps. Finell had vanished after the battle, disappeared without a trace, and ever since he had only heard rumours and gossip as to where he was. The strange little blue haired elf that spoke to his dead sister and travelled the world as a healer and priest. He was a favourite character of the bards’ songs.

It was odd, but seeing him there didn’t stir up the same anger in him that it once had. Time really did heal all wounds. Time, marriage, a baby and a land slowly recovering. Mostly seeing him he just knew a feeling of shock and a little alarm. Not to mention some confusion.

How could he be there? He had been banished from the realm. There were orders to kill him on sight. No one seemed to be rushing forwards with weapons drawn though, and Finell seemed calm as he went to stand with the other elders. And maybe that was the truth of his remaining unharmed. He might be a disgraced high lord who had deliberately or by stupidity and bigotry begun a war, but he was also an elder. No elf would dare touch an elder.

Still, they were surprised. Iros looked around him and saw the looks on people’s faces and knew that none had expected to see Finell. And many were also looking as though they didn’t know what to do. The shock had robbed them of their normal understanding of what was expected. But perhaps it was also his actions of the last year that stayed their anger.

The once terrible high lord had transformed himself into a holy man. Ever since the end of the war, the child of darkness had begun growing into a man of the light. And it wasn’t just in the defeat of the Reaver that he had redeemed himself. Since that battle he had been seen across all the realms, bringing healing and wisdom to the people as the power of the goddess flowed through him. It seemed he had been granted great gifts.

According to all he’d heard, the man could actually speak to the ghosts of the recently departed. Something Iros still wasn’t completely sure he believed. Still he could heal as no other, he could calm anger and end fights, and he could know the truth. It seemed that his years as a high lord filled with anger and hatred, accepting the lies of his closest confident and causing terrible suffering, had been completely turned around until he had become the exact opposite. Of course he still talked constantly to the ghost of his dead sister as the bards kept proclaiming, so maybe it wasn’t the mother that moved through him, it was the moon mist.

Then Finell left the elders to stand in front of them and as he drew near there was one thought that began to dominate Iros’ world. A nightmare that could not be, and yet could be. And he could see that same worry reflected in the faces of those all around him. That the elders having found no other worthy candidates among the great houses were returning Finell to the Heartwood Throne.

It wasn’t even a worry. It was a terror and an outrage and still something more. Something worse. He could see the thunder in King Herrick’s face as he stared at him. Queen Aquina had gone completely pale as she sat in the front row. And the dwarves were turning red in the face and starting to look as though they wanted to charge him with weapons drawn. They wanted to cut him down and damned be the consequences.

“It can’t be.” It was only a whisper that escaped his throat, but still he was heard and understood. Sophelia’s hand quickly found his while Herodan clapped him on the shoulder and told him what he needed to hear.

“No. It isn’t. I’m sure.” And his brother in law should know. He hoped.

Then Finell was suddenly standing in front of them all, hands crossed respectfully in front of him, and the noise trailed off.

“Friends and honoured guests.” Finell began with a surprisingly informal and respectful greeting, something that he would once have never been able to do. But then he sounded much the same as he had in the dark temple, humble. Not like the arrogant ruler that he had once been. That eased Iros’ worries a little. And his eyes were still golden, something that helped as well. It seemed that the Mother still moved through him.

“I have been given the honour of welcoming you in the name of the people of Elaris, and under the eye of Gaia herself. And I do welcome you all.”

“Timmis Alderman.” Finell turned to face a minor functionary of Torrington sitting with his lord. A man that Iros didn’t even recognise, and he was surprised that Finell did. But he was more surprised by what followed as Finell welcomed him in the name of the Mother, not just by his name and title, but by his family. Somehow he knew who the man’s parents were.

That was merely the beginning as he moved on to the next man in the line and did the same. Naming him, naming his lineage, and welcoming him within the sight of Gaia. How did he have such knowledge? Iros had no explanation and looking at his companions he realised that they didn’t either.

So instead of asking pointless questions, he sat quietly and waited as Finell ran through all of them. And when it was his turn and he was welcomed he somehow found it within himself to simply nod respectfully and let him move on. The only surprise he knew by then was when their daughter S’rel was also welcomed. She didn’t nod though, something that caused a small titter of laughter among the audience.

Eventually he reached the end of the row, and Iros worried that he would move  on to the row behind them, and so on. Fortunately he didn’t. Instead he finished with a general welcome to everyone else, and Iros breathed a small sigh of relief. Everyone did. But he sighed too soon.

“And now it falls to me to tell you of our decision. A decision based on history.” Unexpectedly he launched into a detailed description of the life of the first king of Elaris, his accomplishments and his failures, and Iros realised that it was only the start. Sure enough he was proven right as no sooner had Finell fished with the life of King Pelin he moved on to his successor King Pelin the Second.

It was past lunch time by the time Finell had finished with the last king from the age of kings, and begun on the high lords. And it was another hour at least before he’d reached his own sorry rule.

When he did though, Iros listened. Partly because it was surely almost the end, but also because he gave no false feints as he laid out his failures, or actually the failures of High Lord Finell. He spoke about him as though he was someone else. It seemed he still no longer regarded himself as that man. Still in all his life Iros had never heard a ruler admit to his mistakes, let alone expose them all to public scrutiny as Finell did. It was strangely refreshing. Maybe the boy had actually changed.

“And so we come to the end. To the decision. And the decision is this. Every king and every high lord has failed in some measure. This is beyond question. And equally it was beyond hope to expect that they would not. The position demands so much, yet the man filling it is in the end, only a man. Were we to allow another to ascend to the Heartwood Throne, that man would like all others before him fail.”

“And so we proclaim this day that just as the age of kings ended, so now has the age of high lords come to an end. There will be no ascension.” His words were greeted by stunned silence. No clapping, no cheering as there should have been when the next high lord was announced, just the silence of the dumbfounded. Iros was shocked too. It was the one decision he had never expected. A decision he hadn’t even known could be made.

No high lord? No ruler? What did it mean? For the future of Elaris? For the relations between Greenlands and Elaris? For the stability of the land? Could they even do it? He had no idea. And as Finell started outlining the new design for a series of councils and a grand council, he found he still had no idea. Even when the assembly ended and they were finally able to stand up, move about and accept some food and drink from the servers that magically appeared among them, he had no idea.

Grand councils, little councils. Councils for everything from trade to farming. And people appointed to them by some sort of popular acclaim. It seemed like some sort of tapestry crafted by a dozen different blind women. It would be complex and confusing, and likely there would be no overall logic to it. But at least there would not be another high lord to breath the mist and make terrible decisions.

The change didn’t make a lot of sense to any of the others he spoke with. By and large the other guests were just as confused as he was, and they pitied the traders who would be the ones who had to make sense of it when they visited Elaris. And the envoys. Iros truly pitied the envoys. Half their work was simply knowing who to talk to. Knowing what to say, what would work with them. Now it wouldn’t be just one man that they would have to study. It could be hundreds.

But Sophelia wasn’t confused. She looked to embrace the idea. As if it wasn’t complete madness.

“The Mother must surely be laughing today. My cousin transformed from a spoilt child of no decency to a man of both wisdom and morality. Even compassion.” She wrapped her arm around Iros’ waist, stretched upwards a little and kissed him on the cheek. “It is a blessing.”

“Wisdom?” The other things he could almost bring himself to believe, but he could see no wisdom in the path Finell and the elders had chosen.

“Great wisdom. To place so much responsibility in the hands of one man is wrong. If he is wise and noble of heart as you my husband, he will be weighed down almost to the point of being broken. And if he is not as was my cousin, he will be destroyed by it.”

“But -.”

“It makes no difference if the man was born to the position and raised always to know that these duties would one day become his. As a child you ran away from that knowledge, and your cousin as well. It matters not if the man was ascended as the most worthy to fill the position. Finell failed too.”

“When the reaper comes for us all, a man is in the end just a man.” Somehow Iros had the feeling that she meant men and not women. She’d been spending entirely too much time in the grove with Trekor in his opinion, and the elder was never shy about giving her opinion as to the failings of men. Their many failings.

“Sophelia, I am comfortable as the Lord of Greenlands.” Iros wasn’t even sure why he was protesting, save that it felt as though she wanted him to run away from his position. That he could not do.

“As the fell ox is comfortable in his yoke. You have grown used to the weight upon you. But our daughter should not have to shoulder such a burden.” Iros wanted to object but he knew there was no point. She’d just lecture him on it until he gave up.

“No husband, when we return home we will start the process of creating a council from the endless committees and assemblies of Greenlands. People who can help run Greenlands. And one day, your burdens will be lifted enough that you can spend some evenings visiting the inns and alehouses, and drinking to your heart’s content.” Iros wanted to object, but he knew enough of his wife by then to know that she would not be dissuaded. Not now. So he would leave that for another day when the fire of her heart had died down a little. Besides, she had mentioned something about ale.

“But I tell you now husband.” Suddenly Sophelia became serious as she turned him around and stared him straight in the eyes. “There will be no wenching save with me.”

“That seems very reasonable.” Somehow the prospect of giving up some of his responsibilities didn’t seem quite so worrying any more. And he found he didn’t really care that much about the future political direction of Elaris either just then either. The elves could be ruled by a chicken if they chose. There were more important things to concern him. Matters of state that needed tending to.

“You know, Herodan has the baby and it occurs to me that there is an alehouse not far from here. We could start the wenching a little early.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”