Shaith seemed to be gazing at the tree as well. “That be called the Chandril’chi tree. They be extremely rare. This be the only one I do know exists—and it be said they do feed directly from the stream of the Essence itself. It do give me chills.”
The stream of the Essence?
Before he could pose another question to Shaith about it, she darted into a side alley that ran next to the Chandril’elian, pulling him along in her wake.
Halfway down the alley, Shaith slipped into a side door, and Alant found them inside a small anti-chamber. “Wait here for a moment while I do fetch you some proper attire. You can no meet the Hon’Vanria dressed like a common ship’s rat.”
Once Shaith left, Alant dropped his bag and sat down hard on one of the padded benches that lined the walls.
Events are threatening to overwhelm me. Everything is happening too quickly.
The room in which his lovely guide had deposited him into looked humble compared to the beauty of the city outside. Opposite the door they had entered stood the small archway Shaith had disappeared through. Including the one on which he sat, four benches lined the walls, this being the total furniture the room had to offer. A wall hanging depicting an aerial view of the city hung on the wall across from him. Standing, he walked over to inspect it closer. The detail of it astounded him.
I do not see any brush strokes in the paint!
“That be a Fessio’tar. It be a fabric that be produced here on the island and works much the same as a Silrith’tar—‘err, that be a Memory Crystal.” Shaith stood outlined by the archway.
Alant turned on her with a look of disgust. “I know what a Silrith’tar is!” He immediately regretted the hostility in his voice. “Sorry, the voyage here has put me on edge.” When she favored him with a small smile, he swallowed hard. “You were saying about this Fessio’tar?”
“Aye. Just like a Silrith’tar, you can imprint a vision from your mind onto it. That be the view looking out from a balcony of the tallest spire here in Hath’oolan.”
Turning back to the hanging, Alant gazed into its perfection.
It does seem as if
I am looking out a window instead of at a picture.
“I have a robe for you. It should serve until you are settled in and they provide you with your own.” She held out a folded white robe that looked much like hers. A golden belt sat in a coil on top.
He reached out, took the bundle from her, and busied himself with it. When she made no motion to leave, he felt his face grow hot once more. “Is there a place I may change?”
This seemed to startle her. “Aye! Of course, I…” She glanced down at one of the benches as if she meant to sit, then stared at him, a wicked smirk on her face. Finally, with a laugh that was deep and throaty, she pointed over her shoulder at the archway leading deeper into the building. “I shall wait within.”
He stifled a groan. Once she was gone he quickly stripped and donned the robe. It was a bit baggy on his now thinner frame, yet the belt held it in place enough that he did not think he would trip over the hem. She had not provided him with any footwear so he put his soft-soled shoes back on. They looked dingy and out of place next to the cleanliness of his new robes.
Still, as Papa always said, “It is not the quality of a man’s shoes, yet the quality of the man’s walk that matters most.” I hope my walk is good enough for what lies ahead.
Stepping to the archway that led deeper into the building, he saw that it led to a long hall lined with doors. Shaith was occupying herself by looking at a tapestry hanging on the wall between two doors.
Upon noticing him, she glided over. “That be much better.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, if you no count the shoes.”
Lifting the hem of the robe, Alant wiggled his toes in his plain fielders shoes. The faded brown of the leather looked about as worn as he had ever seen on a pair of shoes. “My Ma would have a fit.”
Giggling, Shaith reached out and took his hand. His heart fluttered. “Come, I need to take you to the Hon’Vanria.” At the blank look on his face, she sniffed and shook her head. “You really do know little of the Old tongue.” She started leading him down the hallway. “What do you call your instructors back home?”
“Their title? We call them Sier.”
“Strange. Sier do mean ‘to Meld.’ Why do they use that honorific? Vanria would be translating to ‘teacher.’ The Hon’Vanria be what you would call the ‘head teacher.’ Or, more accurately, ‘honored teacher.’” She cut her jade-green eyes at him as they walked down the hall. “Alas, this may be the only time you see him. I did be here near two full turns of the seasons, yet this be only my second trip to his office.”
“Does he not teach anyone?”
Shrugging, Shaith rounded a corner and headed up a wide flight of stairs. “As to that, I no be knowing. We Humans do no train with the Elmorr’Antiens.”
Her statement shocked Alant to the core. “I will not be learning from an Elmorr’Antien! Then why have I come all this way?”
“Do no be silly! I said we no train with Elmorr’Antiens. We do have an Elmorr’Antien Vanria. Vanria Delmith be as fine an instructor as I have ever had, and I did have many in my life.”
“Just one? Vanria Delmith is the only Elmorr’Antien who instructs us?”
“Aye. I have no ever seen another Elmorr’Antien look at one of us Human Initiates, much less teach us.”
The winding stairs let out in a small receiving room. Cushioned benches and plush chairs lined one wall opposite a large, paned-glass window that looked out into darkness. A set of elaborately inscribed double-doors rested in the center of the far wall. Strange runes, reminding Alant of those he saw carved into the blood-red sand that surrounded the Chandril’chi tree out front, were worked into the door in silver and gold. As the pair stepped onto the landing, the doors swung silently open. Alant started to pause, yet Shaith urged him forward.
A large, highly polished wooden desk occupied much of the room they entered. Papers, scrolls and books littered most of its top. A pane-glass window, twin to the one in the waiting area, filled the left side of the room. Bookshelves, each holding an assortment of items, lined the right.
Alant, however, gave the room no more than a cursory glance, as in his nervousness, he could not take his eyes from the white-haired Elmorr’Antien sitting behind the desk writing in a book with a flowing script. His long white hair spilled over his red silk covered shoulders to dangle down almost to the desktop. The two Initiates stood before the desk for long moments, the only sound the scratching of quill upon paper, until finally the Elmorr’Antien placed his quill into an ink jar and looked up, taking the pair in with its liquid eyes. As it had done on the deck of the
Mistbreeze Trader
, the Tarsith again radiated cold that momentarily shocked Alant. Flinching, he fought the urge to grab for the front of his robes. A puzzled look fell over the Elmorr’Antien, and the Tarsith seemed to slip from cold to freezing. Alant clinched his jaws tight to keep from gasping out in pain, yet the Elmorr’Antien simply stared at him. When Alant knew he could take no more and was about to reach up to snatch the Tarsith from his skin, the cold was gone, and with it all traces of the pain that had been in his chest.
“You are the Initiate sent to us from Mocley, the one named Alant Cor, yes?”
Not being able to stop himself, Alant reached up and rubbed his chest through his robe. “Aye, Sier—Vanria!”
Alant added the honorific instantly upon noticing his mistake, yet a small scowl twisted the Elmorr’Antien’s thin dark-gray lips. “The correct title you will use to address me by is Hon’Vanria, yes? I am Hon’Vanria here at the Chandril’elian. If you do not know enough of the Old tongue to know how to address your superiors, I will provide you with books so that you may educate yourself, hmm?” He turned his head and regarded Shaith. “Good eve, Princess, you have my thanks for retrieving our newest Initiate from the Dasha’alan.”
Princess?
Alant cut his eyes to the dark skinned girl standing next to him.
Shaith made a formal curtsy. “It did be my pleasure, Hon’Vanria.”
The Hon’Vanria retrieved his quill from its resting spot. “Please see that Initiate Cor finds his room, yes? I believe it has been prepared for his arrival.” With that, he returned to his writing without so much as a glance at them.
Curtsying once more—Alant adding a hasty and clumsy bow—Shaith took Alant’s hand, pulled him from the room, and headed for the stairwell in silence.
Alant was dimly aware of the doors to the Hon’Vanria’s study closing behind them as they left. “That did not go well.”
With her jade eyes twinkling, Shaith giggled and shook her head. “It did be a bore around here this past turn of the season since Plint did leave. It will be nice to have someone around who will entertain me.”
Despite himself, Alant smiled. “Who is Plint?”
The smile slipped from her lips. “A boy from my homeland who did be an Initiate here. He be gone now.” Dropping her eyes to the floor, she walked on in silence as if she had no interest in talking about it.
At the bottom of the stairway—Alant was not really paying attention to where they were going, yet he thought they were once again on the ground floor—Shaith turned down a hall and led him deeper into the building. The small hallway they were in, filled with closed doors on either side, let out into a larger one. This new hall, twice as high and three times as wide as the one they entered by, had the same white tiled floor, except a plush red carpet with swirls of blue ran its length. Looking off to his right, Alant saw an ornate pair of double-doors almost entirely made from paned-glass. Through the doors he noticed the large boulevard that had brought him here, and could just make out the black tree with the blood-red leaves in the darkness beyond. He gave a shudder. To his relief, Shaith led him to his right, toward the back of the Chandril’elian. The hall continued on, carpet covering its center, past arches and doors, to end at a second set of double-doors much like the ones at the front. Through the windows of these, Alant saw a lush garden muted in the darkness.
Within a few steps the familiar smells of a kitchen wafted over him. “Mmm. Either I am going mad or that is fresh bread baking.”
“Oh, aye! Still, you will no enjoy that smell for long. The Human quarters be in a small hallway behind those ovens that do bake that bread.” She let out a sniff. “It be nice and warm in the winter… and miserably hot in the summer.”
Opening his mouth to ask a question that had been plaguing him since the two were in front of the Hon’Vanria, Alant shut it with a click as an Elmorr’Antien stepped from a small doorway just ahead. Taking an additional step before realizing that Shaith had stopped, Alant quickly backed up and stood next to her. The Elmorr’Antien approaching them looked much the same as any he had seen so far in Hath’oolan.
Though this one has a bluish tent to his skin.
About a hand taller than Alant himself, gray-blue skin stretched tight over emaciated-looking arms and legs. A light-blue silk robe—more of a long shirt since it stopped well above his knees—did little to hide the thinness of the torso beneath. If anything, the robe accentuated it. Without pause, the Elmorr’Antien glided down the corridor toward the two of them.
Alant thought he should bow, yet since Shaith was simply waiting, he decided he would follow her lead. The Elmorr’Antien tilted its teardrop shaped head slightly and Shaith immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Good eve, Vanria Delmith.” Awkwardly, Alant joined her by adding his bow.
“It is a good eve at that, yes?” Turning his large black-liquid eyes upon Alant, the Vanria smiled thinly. “And you must be our newest, hmm?”
“Aye, Vanria. I am Alant Cor. Newly arrived from the Chandril’elian of Mocley.” Reaching into the pockets of his robe, he realized he had left the Silrith’tar in the pockets of his old shirt. “I have a Silrith’tar here somewhere, Vanria.” He started to unwrap the bundle of clothes he had carried forgotten under his arm, and stopped with a wave from Vanria Delmith.
“You would not have made it to the Chandril’elian had you not had the authority to do so, yes?” Vanria Delmith tilted his head once more. “It is late, younglings, and the morrow promises to be taxing for young Cor, here. I will see you formally in the morn, yes?”
“Good eve to you, Vanria Delmith.” This time Alant was more prepared, and bowed in unison with Shaith’s curtsy.
Looking over his shoulder at the Vanria gliding away from them, Alant’s spirits rose. “He is the first of the Elmorr’Antiens I have met that made me feel welcome.”
And the first the Tarsith did not grow cold from.
A sheepish grin popped to his reddening face at Shaith’s giggle.
“Well, at least the first that did not make me feel unwelcome.”
Continuing down the hall, Shaith turned and stepped through a small archway that led into a hall thinner than any he had yet seen in the building. Tiny doors, much the same size as his bedroom door back at his home stead, lined the walls five deep. Shaith made a gracious flurry with her arm. “Welcome to the Human Quarters, Alant.”
“There are only ten rooms?” He was shocked. Hath’oolan was the center of Essence learning. How could there be so few Humans.
“Alas, that be double what we need. Though the last two doors be the lavatories.” She eyed him sternly. “The one on the left be mine alone! You boys use the one that be on the right.” Stopping at the second to the last door on the right, she lifted the latch and walked in. “Till you arrived, we did only have three in residence here this last turn of the seasons.”
Only three other Humans!
The room was tiny, yet no smaller than the room he had occupied in Mocley. Light from a small stone set against the far wall sprang to life as they entered. A skinny bed was built against one wall and a small mirrored stand with a washbasin on top stood next to the door. Pegs lining the other wall for hanging belongings on rounded out the accommodations. Several white robes hung on the pegs, each with a golden belt dangling over them, and two pairs of golden slippers rested beneath them on the white tiled floor.