Birlerion knelt before the altar and prayed. He prayed for the Lady to forgive him as he prayed every day. But she hadn’t returned, and he was adrift in a strange world that he was supposed to know but didn’t recognise.
His gut twisted and his heart fluttered somewhere about the base of his throat as memories flooded him. He had failed her. He was supposed to be her protector, and she was gone, lost with Guerlaire. The memory of Leyandrii’s final moments cut through him, and only his need for forgiveness kept him rooted to the spot. He didn’t deserve to wear her uniform.
The only comfort was the fact she hadn’t forsaken him: she had asked him to protect her Captain. He clung to the command; once he knew how to do that, maybe he could redeem himself in her eyes if he was successful.
A soft voice intruded on his thoughts, and he opened his eyes and saw a young woman kneeling over one of the stone fragments. Her fingers were busy exploring the stonework. She had masses of brown hair clouding around her face.
“Which one are you?” she asked, raising her face.
Birlerion lurched to his feet, disorientated. “What?”
The woman smiled as she rose, her fingers questing for the stone altar. “There were four recorded here: four children of Greens, all Lady’s Guards. Which one are you?”
“Birlerion.”
“Ah, the youngest. Much missed, but never forgotten. Greens waits for you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a scholar. By name, Taelia.”
“Where did you come from? Did you find the Waystone?”
“Waystone? I know nothing of Waystones. I am here at the Lady’s bidding.” She considered him for a moment, and Birlerion felt flensed by turquoise eyes that looked straight through him; she might not see the surface, but in that moment she saw more than any outer shell. “I don’t believe the Lady is wroth with you; you did all she asked of you and more.”
Birlerion inhaled. “I failed her. I couldn’t protect her. She is lost to this world.”
Taelia’s skirts swirled as she took a step towards him. “You’re wrong. The Lady is not lost to those who believe.”
“Where is she, then?”
Taelia tutted as she approached him, her hand questing in the air; Birlerion grasped it. “Inside, of course. I can see her; she is rooted deep in you, isn’t she? She said you needed reassurance, but I don’t think you do. You won’t falter. You won’t be alone for long, Birlerion. Jerrol will wake the others from their protective sleep.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the Lady told me. Her sentinals truly are amazing, aren’t they?” She tilted her head back, staring up at the canopies as if she could see them. “She protected you well. What are they like inside?”
Birlerion’s tension eased at her eager interest. “It would be an honour, my lady, to introduce you to my sentinal on my return to Vespers.”
“I’ll hold you to that. We scholars never pass up a chance to learn.” Her face grew pensive. “You must warn Jerrol that Prince Kharel has placed a bounty on his head. He must be careful.”
“He makes his way here. You could tell him yourself,” Birlerion said, glancing towards the path.
Taelia grimaced. “I’m not sure he’s ready for this. You can tell him for me, and anyway, the Lady brought me to you, not him.” She rested her hand against his chest, as if in benediction. “We’ll meet again, Birlerion. Look after him for me.” She gave him a brilliant smile and she was gone.
Jerrol gazed around the unbroken circle. Another four monoliths completed the circuit, surrounding the stone table in the centre. Broken fragments of stone poked through the grass, the exposed faces covered in lichen nearly hidden from view.
The faintest of markings were visible on the surface. Taelia ought to visit and see what she could make of it all. She was the expert on engravings, her sensitive fingers teasing out the most worn remnants. Birlerion knelt before the altar, his dark head bent. His clothes glowed in the evening light.
“They still sleep,” Birlerion said, not turning around.
“When will they wake?”
“When you tell them to.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“You woke me.”
Jerrol wrinkled his nose. “That was the Lady, not me.”
“You said it was time, and I stepped out of my tree. I didn’t expect to come out next to the temple.”
“Where did you expect to be?”
“With Leyandrii at the palace – that’s where we were when the Ascendants attacked.”
Jerrol swallowed. “You were with the Lady?”
“And Guerlaire.” Birlerion paused, his voice low. “I don’t remember how I got into the tree. We were defending the palace, Guerlaire broke cover...” He faltered to a stop.
“I’m sorry, Birlerion, this must be difficult for you.”
“Nothing looks like it should, even the names of things and places are different. Warren was Lord of Greens, but there is nothing here in memory of him or his family. I searched.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Not for me; they would be expecting me to visit if I was passing; they were my family. I would be in serious trouble if I didn’t stop by.”
Jerrol froze; he hadn’t considered that Birlerion must have had family somewhere, now all lost. “I thought you said you were born in Vespers?” he asked, not sure what to say.
“Yes, but a friend of mine, Tagerill, was Warren’s son; he dragged me into his family, and they wouldn’t let me go. They adopted me. So, Greens is home.” His face softened in memory, and then he stood, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ll go find the baths. The Lady waits for you. She left you a message: Apparently, the Prince has placed a bounty on your head. She bids you be careful.”
Jerrol watched Birlerion leave. He touched each sentinal as he passed. The air
