113

--TheirWorld--

The cobblestone road to the Circle was more crowded than Guin had thought it would be. Her and her group of NPCs pulled more than one wandering eye as they traveled down the faerie-lit path to a massive… building? Dozens of trees were grown in a circle and linked at their canopies, branches intertwining in a way that made it hard to tell where one ended and one began. Fireflies like she had seen at the gate floated around, as did faeries, and little will-o-wisps that made Guin think of the first time she’d entered the Tree of Dreams.

It was almost ironic that it was very possible she’d be going there again with a different set of NPCs.

When they entered, the sense of magic and power his her like a wall. Three fantastically dressed women in three enormous wooden thrones stared at them.

“What are you doing here?” sneered a beautiful young woman on the first throne. Sitting impossibly straight in a scant gown of red and purple, the slit in the side of her dress went high up near to her waist. Legs crossed, the openness left her vine-clad leg swaying freely. She had golden hair of a more reddish hue than Adrian’s, and upon her head was a crown of antlers, ribbons with small glass bells dangling from the prongs. Half of her pretty face had been horribly scarred around her left eye, streaking down over her chin and neck. While her right eye was a bright, shining green, the left was dulled and greyed. A mighty silver stag stood at her back, sharing the haughtiness of its mistress.

Adrian and Margot waved to her, and nodded to the others, while Crow just shrugged. The woman rolled her eyes and looked across the room, at another woman on a throne.

This one was dark skinned, with braided hair held up in a thick bun by a wide golden clasp. Though she was dressed in far more practical, intricately patterned clothes with leather linings, she wore an incredible amount of golden jewelry. Bracelets, a nose ring, thick earrings, a wide, high fitted necklace that was accented with red and blue and green paints, and a thin golden circlet hugging her head. Her throne had no arms, which complimented the pair of short swords that hung at her sides from leather straps, but the high back was made of sturdy branches that held at least a dozen arrows in crossed patterns. Her warm brown eyes were intelligent and kind, and Guin much preferred her simple style to that of the others. At her feet, however, was a pack of lions.

The dark skinned woman then looked at the woman in the middle throne. Unlike the other two, this woman made Guin shudder. Her skin was ashen and her hair was white — but it was her ageless black eyes that truly gave her pause. Guin called her a woman because of the air she gave, but upon closer inspection, her appearance was almost childlike. Four lavender mystriks shone bright against her unnaturally pale skin. This one sat in a backless throne that must have been placed in front of a pond, as she was surrounded by clusters of lotus flowers. She sat, ankles crossed under a sheer, white fabric that was almost ghostlike in appearance and flow. At the bottom it seemed invisible as it faded up to a denser knit until the gown turned opaque around her mid-thigh. It was perfectly seamless with open sleeves that faded like the dress as the fell around the floor, where a ghostlike dragon curled around her seat, resting with her hand upon its head.

“Circle,” Adrian addressed them with noble manner. “We who serve, greet you.”

“Should I ask it again?” the woman with the scarred face asked. “It’s late. Go home. I want to go home.”

Margot peered around Adrian’s shoulder and said, “Um, we are sorry to bother you, but something’s… come up.”

“You’ve brought a new face to us,” the white woman said, her voice soft as a whisper, but strong enough to carry through the room. “She has a scent to her. Curious.”

“This is Hunter Guin Grey,” Margot introduced. “She comes bearing important news about the Tree of Dreams. Guin, these are the three Grandmasters of the Circle. Druid Grandmaster Saira Scarthorn,” she bowed toward the scarred woman, then to the warrior woman. “Ranger Grandmaster, Isis Grovehart, and Shaman Grandmaster Zuxnera the White,” Margot finished, ending at the middle with the white woman. Though they all seemed to be of similar standing, the one who held the center chair seemed to bare the most weight.

As she had with the others, Guin told her story. It was almost a nice way to help refresh her own memory of what had happened.

“I understand,” The Shaman Grandmaster said, nodding. “Yes. Perhaps we could aid you in some way. It is within our power to grant you certain boons and blessings, and certainly we can share our information with you as long as you remain in good standing with our guild. It seems that you have a library pass — good. Our library is yours as well. If you have need of anything else, our approval will help you in getting other quests in the area. If there is nothing else, then…”

While the Shaman Grandmaster was speaking, Guin stood nodding, preparing her usual speech of being grateful for their aid. She expected, with that, her job would be done; clean and simple, in and out. That hope died quickly as the Druid Grandmaster scoffed.

Settling back into her chair, the scarred woman asked, “And why is it that we should trust this girl with anything? Who is she? Where has she come from? She isn’t one of us; she’s not even asked to be. She’s just standing here, asking us to help her and trust her — blindly.”

“And you are sitting in a chair,” Crow scolded, glancing at her. “Doing nothing. Don’t sabotage someone who would do what you won’t.” If looks could kill, the one the scarred woman gave Crow would have buried him ten feet deep.

“My father, Hunter Gorseth, and the Master Hunter hold her in high regard,” Margot defended. “She can see into the Veil; she’s befriend spirits —”

“Saira is right,” The Ranger Grandmaster cut in. “The Hunters may know her, but we do not — and having The Sight has nothing to do with skill, or else I would not be here. How do we know whether or not she serves us, or them? How do we know? We do not.”

Guin had vastly underestimated the power dynamics the women had, and quickly tried to readjust her thoughts accordingly. It was true that the white woman seemed to have the highest position in some way — perhaps, as Guin had first suspected, it was a seniority dynamic that gave her the right of the room — but all three probably had equal power when it came to voting. She cursed herself for thinking it could be so easy.

“Grandmasters, if there is anything that I could say, or do, to help you to trust me; if there is a job or quest I could do to show you my intentions —” Guin started, stepping forward.

“There isn’t time for that,” Crow said. “Stop screwing around like something that won’t change without intervention, will.”

“It is not you that is on trial here, Crow child,” The Shaman Grandmaster told him in a warm voice. “It is not unreasonable for us to ask her to prove herself. You all have proven yourselves to us. That is why you are here.”

“There. Is. No. Time,” Crow told them through clenched teeth. Guin was surprised to see how angry he was considering he’d been so hesitant before.

The Druid Grandmaster clutched the arms of her throne tight. “Crow bastards who have nothing to do with the topic should shut their mouths”

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Adrian looked up at them. “If you do not trust Guin, then please, trust me. Octarius is my family — I can’t leave him, or this forest in the state it’s in. I might be the only one who has a chance.”

When Adrian spoke up, the air in the room changed.

“You want to go after him now?” The Ranger Grandmaster asked in mild shock. “You do understand this could very well lead to your death, Adrian! Rumors have entered our gates and spread on tongues throughout our lands that the Crown Prince wants your head — and you would go to save him?”

“If I don’t, then what?” Adrian asked.

Of course, the Druid Grandmaster scrunched up her nose and said, “Simple. Don’t go. Problem solved. Let’s go home.”

“Why not at least wait until we receive his package?” asked the Shaman Grandmaster. “Perhaps knowing what it is shall help you to understand his frame of mind…”

“And what happens between then and now?” Guin stepped forward and met the eyes of each of the three in turn. “Either the Veil will kill Octarius and the Noble Clan will extract their vengeance upon the Mist, or he’ll gain a victory at such a cost that this crusade of his will be fed for generations. If I — or Adrian — has a chance of stopping these things without bloodshed, shouldn’t we at least try?”

“Grandmasters, please,” Adrian begged. “Give me a chance to meet with my brother, face to face, and ask what his intentions are. Give me a chance to convince him —”

“You say that like we haven’t done that before,” the Druid Grandmaster sneered sweetly, leaning forward in her chair. “Except we have. And it's late. And I’m tired. And I don’t —”

“Oh, shut it Saira, no one is really asking you,” Margot bit. The Druid Grandmaster leveled a dangerous gaze at her, similar to the one she given Crow — who pulled the red head back to his side.

“You do remember that this brother of yours is part of the reason you have chosen a life exile, no?” The Ranger Grandmaster spoke up.

Smiling lightly, the Shaman Grandmaster added, “Understand, Adrian, that we do not stand in the way of your and your family, but there are considerations. Not only are you a valuable asset to our Circle — political, yes — but you are also a member of our family. You are our kin; my child, as much as any of them. It would not do to see you lost on such a… mission.”

“She’s saying that you’re a petulant child who needs to know his place, in case your small mind doesn’t understand,” The Druid Grandmaster said.

“We know you care, Saira. We don’t need the extra two cents,” Crow went.

The scarred woman’s eyes narrowed. “Adrian’s family would not be the first to cause us pain and annoyance.”

“No,” Crow granted. “Which is why not only do I support this mission; I’m going with him.”