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Green and Nutty By Amber Michelle K. "It seems events within Harmonia have been moving smoothly, then." China clinked, as the other man placed his cup on its saucer. "And outside of our boundries? Something of note is always going on, even if it does not affect us." Asen sighed. He didn't bother to hide it. Long ago he'd learned that he could not hide anything from his master. If these chambers were the surface of a pond, the tiniest ripple would be seen, even before he himself knew what he felt. "A disturbance in the south. I have no idea what it is, but I'm sure we will receive word soon." The high priest nodded. He said nothing else, but clearly expected elaboration. "There are rumors, but the stories are... of epic proportion, you might say." He knew what these tales would mean, and he didn't continue right away. The history of the region known as Magridal left little else in the way of possibilities aside from the one thing he didn't want to see. "They say a dark cloud is stalking the outer borders of the Barrinhill province. The people there are superstitious, jumping at shadows. I do not have confirmation of the phenomenon." He concentrated then on sipping at his tea, and when he set it down again, the bottom of the cup was where he let his eyes rest, finally. He could have looked up, but it wouldn't matter. The expression on his master's face rarely changed. A smile here, a frown there; they were all faint, and it had taken years for Asen to even recognize them as what they were, when he first came to serve as the Circle's liason. He'd taken to thinking of the man as a marble statue that sometimes spoke, and sometimes that wasn't far from the truth. "They're thinking of Yeura. And the other one, what was it - Seville?" His master gave a little breath of a laugh. "Do they even remember the names, or is it just a story to them?" "I doubt it," Asen replied. "They're peasants. Illiterate, uneducated. If they even know it's a rune--" He stopped, then sighed again and took another sip of his tea. It had a pleasant, nutty taste he'd grown to like over the years. If he could think about that, or perhaps the scones, and not about what he was sure would be next out of his master's mouth-- "Have the bishops heard of this yet?" "No." Asen swirled his tea, watching the dregs twist and scatter. "But it will not be long before they do." The high priest's hand stilled Asen's, and made him look up. He quickly looked down again, and allowed the cup to be taken away and placed on the table. It would be silly to fight his master's will in this, or even simply the strength of his hand. At times, it seemed there was no difference between the two. The rune, when he gazed at it, was quiet. Not even a flicker. Just pale, almost sickly gray against what was otherwise young and healthy skin. He didn't understand how it could remain that way for so long. His own skin was finally beginning to dry and stretch, and he was not nearly as old as the man in front of him. "Should we not let destiny run its course, this time?" Asen asked, finally, when it appeared that his master would let the silence stretch. "We haven't recovered even one rune since my appointment. Even the fire rune escaped us." "No." The other sighed, and Asen found his eyes drawn away from the rune to his master's face, and the slight furrow between his eyebrows. "If we let it go, how many times will destiny have to 'run its course' before the people in that area are left in peace? We cannot leave this alone. The problem must be taken care of now, before it has a chance to fester and cause new problems." A likely story, he wanted to think. Dowaine, and a few of the others before they died, had contemplated this drive to collect runes and concluded that the high priest simply couldn't help himself. Even if he didn't want the power, holding the runes would be to /control/ them, and the obsession with tracking them down was blamed on the rune. Asen thought the question of control was at least part of it. But then his master said things like this, and it made him wonder if there was much more to history than what he was told. No one questioned why Hikusaak took power in the beginning. Not anymore. 'It's the rune,' was always the explanation he heard as a child. His family's progenitor fought in the war for Harmonia, and his letters took that tone when they spoke of their leader. Asen often wondered if the man had even met the high priest for an extended interval. Certainly, he was nothing like that now. "Who will you send? If the rumors are true." He hoped they were lies. There was a war raging in Barrinhill, where the dark cloud had supposedly been spotted. It was possible the stories were just a part of someone's strategy to undermine his enemy's morale. His master contemplated his own tea for a moment. "Sasarai, of course." "Why?" Asen jerked his gaze away. "Please reconsider. The last assignment was hard on him. He needs to recover." "Five years is long enough to recover, Asen. We will need his rune to capture the other." "No..." It was just a whisper. He couldn't argue with that; for all he knew, Sasarai had not spoken extensively with Luc at all, and his change in behavior after the war was rooted in another problem. "A strong casting of Silent Lake is all it would take. We have done it that way before." It was how Asen captured Wind and Earth in the beginning, after all. There was no true rune emblazoned on the back of /his/ hand. "He must learn this lesson, Asen." His master clasped their hands together and gifted him with a placid smile. "Now, shall we take a walk? The sun is setting. It should be the perfect time." Asen allowed himself to be drawn away from the table toward the patio doors, wordless except for a murmured formality when he held one open for his master. The conversation was left with their tea, cooling and ready to be cleared away by the servants. He couldn't bring himself to mention it again now that their attention was supposed to be elsewhere. His master's hand was cold when it clasped his wrist, but the rune was still dim and silent. He blamed it anyway, and decided the chill spring air was perfectly suited to his mood. ------------- On the scale of fragments, I don't think this one is very good. It was difficult to write, even though I had some idea of what I wanted, and that feeling usually means that whatever I'm writing is doomed. Oh well. :p It's not a post, or anything, so I don't care. |