“That balance is out of kilter. The Guardians are dying, and I need to discover why and stop it. That’s where we come in. The Lady has more Guardians than just the Lord Holders. The Guardians also protect the groves, the sentinals, and certain relics and lore records. They are scattered across all the four kingdoms – not just here in Vespiri. Some are in Terolia, Elothia and probably Birtoli as well, but they always follow the same family. The Guardianship passed from generation to generation.”
He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in tufts. “That’s what happened last night. The Guardianship passed to Gilly. The smith’s mother, Sylvie, passed it to me before she died, but I wasn’t the right vessel. My body couldn’t assimilate it; it was trying to reject me. I think...” He paused, thinking it through. “I think that’s why the Lady intervened last night. She couldn’t lose another Guardian, so she made me a temporary vessel until I could pass it on to Gilly. And as a result, you see...” He gestured at his clothing. “Only I don’t think the Lady sees it as temporary. The Lady claimed me before; I think she is stamping her mark. She said to me...” He tried to remember her words exactly. “She said the journey was just starting, that the forgotten are waiting and that we must protect the Guardians. She called me her Captain.”
Birlerion nodded. “There has to be a Lady’s Captain. If Guerlaire cannot return, then she would have to appoint another. All Sentinals report to you.”
Jennery began to laugh. “I think the Lady is definitely more appreciative than your last boss.” He waved at Jerrol’s clothes as if to validate the point. “The King’s got no chance of getting you back.” He collapsed into gales of helpless laughter at the sight of Jerrol’s pained expression. Jennery tried to control his laughter, but whenever he glimpsed Jerrol’s face, he burst out laughing again. Even Birlerion was grinning.
“Alright, alright, joke’s on me, but in all seriousness.” Jerrol glanced sternly at Jennery, who was leaning against the smooth trunk of a Sentinal to hold himself up, flapping his hand in a go-on motion. “We need to find and protect the Guardians against whatever is hunting them. And to see how the councils are all connected in this.”
Jennery sobered up at that. “The fire last night managed to flush one of them out,” he said. “It caught immediately, you know, and spread fast, even though the timbers should’ve been wet through after all this rain.”
“Yes, we need to find out where and how the fire started. It wasn’t accidental, that’s for sure. It couldn’t have been that fellow you followed last night; he never went near the smithy. Unless it was some type of delayed reaction.” Jerrol considered the possibility and shifted uneasily. “Let’s go look at the ruins and see if we can tell anything from that.” He glanced at Birlerion. “I’d like you to have a closer look; you might spot something we’ve missed. We still need to speak to the smith as well.”
“How in the Lady’s name did you manage to wangle my orders to join you if you’ve been discharged from the service?” Jennery asked, starting to put things together.
“Ah.” Jerrol grinned at him mischievously: time to get his own back. “I told you I sent them before I left. I didn’t think word of my downfall would have reached them yet.”
“What? You mean they are not official?”
“Well,” drawled Jerrol, “that probably depends on your point of view. Your commander thought they were official, otherwise he wouldn’t have dispatched you, though what he’s thinking now who knows!”
“They’ll be calling me a deserter,” Jennery complained, though he didn’t seem particularly bothered at the thought.
“I’m sure the Lady, now she’s got the hang of recruiting, wouldn’t mind adding you to her company. I could use the help.” Before he finished speaking, Jennery’s eyes widened in shock, and a soppy grin spread over his face. Jennery had been leaning against the nearest sentinal for support and as Jerrol watched a green glow spread up his arm and gradually transformed his clothes into the same grey-green uniform Jerrol was wearing. Birlerion began to chuckle.
“Well, at least we match now.” Jerrol couldn’t help but grin.
“What?” Jennery leapt away from the sentinal. “You, you!” Jennery waggled his finger at Jerrol, but he couldn’t get the expletive past his lips.
“Never mind.” Jerrol patted his arm in sympathy. “I doubt the Lady will be prepared to give you up either, even once she gets to know you.”
“A new brother. The Lady is pleased. I said you wouldn’t be able to refuse her. Welcome, Leanderion,” Birlerion said, gripping Jennery’s arms and giving him a shake.
“No, no, call me Jennery,” Jennery gasped, horrified. Birlerion started laughing.
A muted meep from his pocket reminded Jerrol of his passenger, and he carefully lifted the little Arifel out.
“Did you hear the Lady?” From the enthusiastic response, he assumed the answer was yes. The Arifel launched himself at Jennery, fluttering around his head and mussing his hair.
Jerrol watched the Arifel and wondered what would happen next. How was an Arifel going to help him, and an immature one at that? His gut told him he was here to help and in response to the Lady’s promise. Was he one of the forgotten? A soft chuckle vibrated in his ear, and he knew precisely how the Arifel could help.
Information scrolled behind his eyes and he sighed in relief; he parsed the information, suddenly glad of the hours spent
