Jerrol peered after him, before dropping to his knees in front of the altar. He rested his hand on the granite tabletop.
His fingers strayed to the green stone at his throat; it was polished smooth from constant wear. He had found it in a time of need when he was a child. Once he had created a shrine to the Lady, with sticks for the monoliths and a flat stone for the table.
His aunt found him and hounded him out of the woods as a malingerer; after that she had washed her hands of him, and he had been fostered to the keep at Stoneford. The Lady had set his feet on another path.
Head bent, he reaffirmed his commitment to her cause and offered up his prayers and his support.
Her acknowledgement caressed his face and resonated through his body – along with a touch of possessiveness? No, that couldn’t be right. He gave a shuddering sigh as he grew conscious of the growing chill as the sunset faded. The moon’s glow strengthened above him. He had been communing with the stones for longer than he realised.
As he straightened, he saw an older woman pause as she entered the stone circle. She was slightly built, shorter than he was even, with silver curls framing a youthful face. She held her hand up in apology. “Sorry, lad, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Her voice was low and velvety. “Folks don’t normally stay this late.”
Jerrol rested a hand on the tabletop in farewell. “I was about to leave. I’ve been longer than I intended.”
The woman approached the table, her arms full of late-blooming flowers. “I was just bringing the crumbs for the critters,” she said as she scattered some pulses and grains on the table and laid the flowers in the centre. “They’ll be gone by morning.”
“The Lady watches,” he murmured, spreading his hand across his heart.
The woman glanced at him and finished the catechism: “...as the Line protects.” She mirrored his action. “Not too many invoke the Lady these days,” she said, watching him closely.
His head jerked back. “What, even here in the heart?”
“Especially here, it seems. Sometimes familiarity breeds contempt, I think. Folk say it, but there is no conviction behind the words, no depth, not like you did. I could feel it, deep inside, that you meant it. If I can tell, then I’m sure the Lady knows,” she said. “It’s even worse when the council encourages it.”
“The council?” He considered her words. “Of course!” He smacked his palm against his forehead. “That explains how fast it is spreading, The easiest way to instigate change is to say it is the rule of law, through the council. They are actively withdrawing support for the Lady?”
“Oh, not so obvious yet, not plain-spoken like, but more folks are sniggering at those who invoke the Lady, making them out to be soft in the head like, to believe such a story. As if the Lady was just a story,” she huffed, beginning to get distressed. She took a deep breath and grimaced. “Sorry, lad, didn’t mean to dump my cares on you. I’m just worriting about the lads.” She gestured at the sentinals.
Jerrol smiled at her affectionate term. “I don’t think you need to worry about these trees; they are sentinals, they can protect themselves. You need to take care of you and yours.” He glanced around the circle; they were still alone. “How many know you are a Guardian?” he asked.
She jerked back, raising her hand to her mouth, and she glanced around the circle. Jerrol reached out a reassuring hand. “We are alone,” he murmured. “You will need to dissemble better when the next person comes by. I agree there is a risk, not just yet, but the pressure is building. The Guardians are the Lady’s power here; she cannot afford to lose them and nor can the rest of us.”
“Who are you?” the woman asked, her eyes large in the dim light. “How do you know so much?”
“Jerrol Haven is my name, lately a King’s Ranger, though for my sins not anymore,” he said as she gasped. “I think the same powers that are trying to discredit the Lady are working from the top down as well. I’m a follower, no more, aware that she is under siege and trying to help where I can. I have permission to travel and assist where possible. I was working my way towards Scholar Torsion at Velmouth. I thought he would have a clearer idea of what is going on, but if you are saying the councils are wavering...” He paused, frowning in thought.
“You know Torsion? He won’t waver, no matter what he has to say publicly,” the woman remarked. “He should have an idea of what is being said and by whom, and maybe even why.”
“Good point, I think I need to visit him next.” Jerrol tucked her hand in his arm and turned her back towards the gap in the stones. “I think you will be missed soon,” he said, steering her out of the circle.
“They know where I am if they need me,” she said, but the air was starting to cool now the sun had set. She gripped his arm more tightly. “The smith is my son. I live with him now, close to the trees.” She smiled in greeting as they passed under the broad leaves, which rustled as they walked. “My name is Sylvie, though just mention the smith and you’ll find me. Come to dinner tomorrow, Mr Haven, and we can talk more. It’s a relief to talk with someone without having to curb your tongue.”
Jerrol ducked his head. “Thank you kindly, a meal would be welcome and the good company,” he said. “I’m travelling with friends.” He paused as she waved her hand.
“Bring them too.” She looked at him sharply. “I can’t see you travelling with a
