The Grove(106)

(I’ll let her know in a few moments,) Teral stated.

Saleria was the one to break the hug. Inhaling deeply, she let go of her breath and the Guide. “Thank you. I think I needed that.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I haven’t had a good long hug in quite some time. By the way, Aradin is back,” he told her. “And before you ask, he approves of me hugging you. Now, the rest of his news isn’t quite so happy. If you both like, I’ll hand the body back over to him now.”

Saleria nodded—then bounced up on her toes and kissed his other cheek. “That’s so you remember I do care, even when you’re not in charge of the body. Now bring Aradin and his lips back, please, so I can kiss him and them properly.”

He chuckled and started pulling the Witchcloak into place. “Impertinence, milady. I’ll have him give you a swat on the rump for me, once we’ve swapped.”


* * *


Saleria waited for her turn in the discussion of prophecies among all the Guardians on her Bower mirror. The sharp-nosed, face-shrouded Alonnen was talking. She glanced briefly at her lover, who was gently decanting some sort of sap-infused potion into a set of jars, but didn’t call out to him. He had his task this afternoon, and she had hers.

At least she had the time for this discussion, rather than having to hurry everyone along so she could work on draining the eastern locus tree post-lunch. Now that she was the actual Guardian of the eastern rift, she could drain it from within the Bower directly, a very neat convenience. Which left her waiting for her turn to speak.

“. . . But that’s just it. ‘When the floodgates open’ could refer to something on my end of things, but I can’t say even to the lot of you what it is. A lot of these prophecies so far point toward this corner of the world, either Arbra or Fortuna or Mekhana or its neighbors, but none of them peg it exact,” Alonnen concluded, cap-covered, scarf-wound head waggling in a visual shrug. With even his eyes obscured by those green-tinted lenses he wore, he looked more like a puppet from a children’s show than a man.

“Guardian Saleria,” Kerric stated, turning to her. It was an interesting visual effect because his chair actually swiveled one way and the view of a book-lined wall behind him swerved the other, as if he really were surrounded by a circular library. “You said you finally sorted through the copies you received from the Katani Department of Prophecies? What have you to share with us?”

“Well, I did share the earlier one, from Seer Haupanea from two hundred years ago,” she stated. “Now, I know you all don’t think the verses, ‘Gone, all gone, the synod gone, brought back by exiled might; By second try, the fiends must die, uncovered by the blight’ have much to do with a potential Netherhell invasion. But ‘fiend’ often refers to the denizens of those blighted dimensions, and that Nightfall Isle—founded by an exiled group of brothers—is trying to reconvene the Convocation of the Gods.”

“We’d know more about it if Guardian Dominor weren’t so distracted by Serina’s pregnancy,” Guardian Ilaiea snorted.

Saleria wondered what the pale-haired woman had against the as-yet-unmet Guardian Serina. She had to let it go, however. “As I was about to say, Guardian Ilaiea, I have here another prophecy by the same Seer, Haupanea, which seems to speak much more directly of the events in question . . . and Seers have been known to make several prophecies about one really big event, or a related series of events.

“This one I actually thought would be important for all of us to hear,” she added, selecting the scroll from the table she had moved near the mirror. “Because the title of it is ‘Song of the Guardians of Destiny.’” That got her their respectful, quiet attention. Nodding to herself, Saleria unrolled the scroll. “Here is the full prophecy:


“When serpent crept into their hall:



Danger waits for all who board,



Trying to steal that hidden tone.



Painted Lady saves the lord;



Tower’s master’s not alone.




“Calm the magics caught in thrall:



Put your faith in strangers’ pleas,



Keeper, Witch, and treasure trove;



Ride the wave to calm the trees,



Servant saves the sacred Grove.”



“So it mentions Kerric’s Tower and your Grove,” Ilaiea scoffed, interrupting her at only the second verse. “So it’s coming true. Tell us something new.”

“I am trying to, Guardian,” Saleria stated sternly. “There are eight verses in all . . . and the third verse is when things start getting hairy:


“Cult’s awareness, it shall rise: