The Grove(33)
(Convocation?) Teral suggested, along with an undercurrent of thought that whispered in several layers through the back of Aradin’s mind.
“Ah—Teral just offered a possible solution to the dilemma,” he stated, holding up his hand to forestall more swearing from her. Not that either he or his Guide could be offended by her brief invective; the members of the priesthood on the Isle of Storms were much more vulgar when they wanted to be, and Teral still remembered that trip all too clearly from his own lifetime. Aradin focused on the needs of the present, explaining what his Guide was thinking. “One of the rights of the advocate at the Convocation of Gods and Man is to make petitions to their Patron Deity or Deities.”
“And that means . . . ?” Saleria asked.
“For the time being, you and I could work to contain the overflowing magic. I could do a little experimentation with potions-crafting, and working on undoing the warped amalgamations of plants and animals in the Grove. Once we know what the possibilities are, you could present our findings to Blessed Kata and Jinga. At that point, you could ask Them if it would be permissible to use the liquid magics in potions, and whether or not it should be sold, or regulated, or handed away for free,” Aradin said. “You could even ask Them to fix the Grove so that it no longer spews wild magics into the world, and thus return it to a natural sort of garden, however holy.”
“That would be a very wise and balanced solution to the problem,” Saleria agreed, thinking over the possibilities. “Not even the Arch Priest would go against the word of Kata and Jinga Themselves, and the King certainly wouldn’t dare. Our God and Goddess have been known to manifest in person and depose an unworthy mage-king or –queen where needed. They have done so at least a full dozen times over the course of our long history . . . I think.”
A sly smile curved the corner of his mouth. Daringly, Aradin teased her lightly, “Let me guess, history lessons were lumped into the same category as outkingdom lands when you were learning how to be a priestess?”
She lifted her chin a little as she replied, but wasn’t too offended. “I’ve always been far more concerned about the current needs of my fellow citizens of Katan, and not what our ancestors needed. There’s nothing I can do about the needs of the past.”
“A good point,” he conceded, dipping his head in a slight bow. “Now, since it is always wise to have clear thoughts and clear options when going before the Gods . . . may I have your permission to set up an herbalist’s table here in the Bower and conduct a few experiments?”
“What, right here?” she asked, looking around at the moss tiers of ground and half-tangled wickerwork dome surrounding them.
“It would be best done right here, because you yourself already ensure that no one else reaches this spot without your permission and your escort,” Aradin reminded her. “That makes it the safest place to avoid our experiments being detected by bureaucratic minds. It also ensures that I work under your supervision, and only with your permission, and that no one else can meddle with or imbibe my experiments unwittingly.”
“I don’t know about supervision, exactly,” Saleria murmured, eyeing him. “Usually when I’m here, I’m concentrating on focusing gathered magics into prayer-spells. Or conversing with my fellow Guardians from other points around the world.”
“You converse with others from here?” Aradin asked. “How, if I may ask?”
She nodded at one of the copper-hued puddles near the altar at the center of the moss-lined hollow. Its vine almost touched the surface. “Some of these basins serve a clear purpose. That one there permits voice-based communication with other Guardians who govern unwieldy pools or focal points of magic. All it requires is a touch of the liquid . . . though I am told that if I ever bring a mirror in here, Guardian Kerric can link a simple visual scrying surface between his power-source and mine. I have considered it, particularly in light of the troubles he’s been seeing over the last few months, but, well . . .”
“You don’t want anyone peering into the heart of the Grove and possibly trying to wrest away control of it?” Aradin guessed shrewdly.
She blinked in surprise and shook her head. “No, the power of my God and Goddess would prevent that. No, I’m more worried about leaving a mirror out in the open, where the rain could fall on it, the temperatures could shift and crack it with too much cold or too much heat, or even a bird could fly past and drop its liquid chalk on the surface just at the wrong moment in time,” she muttered bluntly. “The point is, the Bower keeps some things out, yes, particularly hostile plants or hungry creatures, but not all things are kept outside the gazebo’s weave. This is a garden, not a stronghold.”