“I was under the impression the Vigil worshipped Cesla as the second coming of Iosa,” Fess said.
She tried to ignore the flippancy behind the reply, but it struck too close to the mark. “Perhaps we did for a while.” She shrugged. “Everyone except Pellin and Bronwyn. According to them and Elwin, Cesla’s power was like nothing the Vigil had ever seen before.”
Fess blinked. “I didn’t know the gift came in different strengths.”
She sighed. This was a familiar conversation, though not with Fess. “It doesn’t, at least we don’t think so, but Cesla’s talents and temperaments seemed to be perfectly suited for the gift we carry. His talent of others, for example, was almost frighteningly strong.”
“It sounds like the Mark would have liked him.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. Cesla was skilled at manipulating those around him, but neither he nor they would have called it that. With a gesture and smile, perhaps a casual touch on the arm or a friendly pat, he would turn the rest of the Vigil’s disagreement into support. For centuries he ran the Vigil like a kingdom, where his word was law.”
“That doesn’t sound like Ealdor at all,” Fess said.
She smiled, but there was little humor in it. “You wouldn’t think so, and they look nothing alike, yet if the legends of the Fayit are to be believed, they possessed all the gifts and talents and temperaments at once. I find myself mistrustful of being moved about on the ficheall board like a pawn.”
Fess’s expression sobered. “Isn’t that what Aer does, Lady Deel?”
“As is His right,” she answered without thinking. “Cesla and Ealdor are not Aer.”
“It seems to me, the end result is pretty much the same.”
“Then why did you consent to follow Ealdor’s instruction?” she asked.
A stand of cedar trees off to the left of the road drew his attention for a few moments before he answered. “Surely you must admit that safeguarding the Darkwater is important.”
The enormity of their task bored a hole through her middle, left her feeling drained and inadequate. She envied Fess his ignorance, however temporary. “It is difficult to see our contribution to the defense of the forest as anything other than inconsequential at this point.” She held up a hand as his eyes widened in shock. “Don’t mistake me. I believe the gift is powerful and has subtle uses the Vigil has only begun to explore, but the power of domere is an intimate exercise. We touch a single person at a time and determine their guilt or innocence. Our gift is a scalpel. The defense of the forest requires a broadsword, and probably more than one.”
“The sentinels?” he asked.
She nodded. “And they are denied to us unless we can successfully petition our counterparts on the southern continent to help.”
Fess glanced back at Wag. “Why would they not?”
She sighed. “That’s a short question with a long, mournful history. If you talk about the split of the church, most people on the northern continent assume you’re speaking of the Order Wars between the four, but centuries before that the church split into the Merum in the north and the One Church in the south. That split still colors interactions between the two continents. Trade, religion, travel—nothing is free from its influence.
“We have only two of our four-footed guardians left to us. Wag’s sister has been stripped of her gift. Modrie is hardly more than an oversized dog. A single sentinel, while formidable, can hardly safeguard the entire forest.”
She turned in her saddle to face him. “That brings us to the point, Fess. Ealdor obviously failed somehow in his own task to keep the forest from being delved. Why should we follow his instructions?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do. Willet trusts him.”
She closed her mouth around her rebuttal. Willet Dura had a vault. “Yes, he does, but Lord Dura gives depths to the word reckless that I’ve never encountered before.”
She waited for Fess to reply, but it appeared the topic of the Ealdor and his instructions had come to its end. She spoke before the boy could clothe himself in his stoicism. “Fess, why don’t you smile anymore?”
“Lady Deel?” Suggestions of pain showed in his eyes before he turned away to resume his scan of the horizon.
She sighed, had hoped the simple earnestness of her question would shock Fess into giving her an unguarded answer. “The lives of those within the Vigil are long, Fess.”
“So Lady Bronwyn told me.”
“Too long for you to deny yourself,” she said softly.
Instead of acknowledging her observation, he turned her question back on her. “Who were you before you became one of the Vigil?”
“A postulant of the Merum order in Elania.” She took a deep breath. If this was what Aer required of her to restore Fess to himself, she would comply. “I was young, not much older than you, when I came into the gift. Before that, I spent my days in study and service, but I had no plans to serve the Merum with the rest of my life. It’s customary in Elania for young women to receive their education from the church, but most depart after a few years to pursue marriage or trade. I had no gift that would have elevated me to the nobility, but I did possess talents for self and others. That drew the attention of the bishop in Elania and eventually, the Eldest of the Vigil.”
“And what would you have done with your talents had you not joined the Vigil?”
“Fess, I was practically a child,” she said. “What does a girl of sixteen know?” She almost laughed. “I thought I wanted to be a sculptor’s assistant. The marble of Elania is prized for its pure white color veined with specks of copper that give sculptures a lifelike cast. I thought nothing could be more beautiful.”
He
