The Grove(58)

“Well, don’t look for much help from Pasha for the time being,” Guardian Daemon stated. He rubbed his short-trimmed, sandy blond goatee, cropped as closely as the matching blond hair on his head, then flicked his hand out expressively. “On the bright side, I doubt any of the king’s sons would dare go so far as to dabble in demonic pacts in order to gain the throne. But we are embroiled in a nasty civil war at the moment. I have my hands full protecting my Fountain and trying to keep the worst of the magics being flung about from wrecking too much of the land, for the non-mages’ sakes.”

Saleria blinked, frowned, and turned away from the mirror, trying to think. “What was that . . . What was it that he showed me . . . ?”

“Guardian Saleria?” Kerric asked. “You have something to say?”

Turning back to the mirror, she nodded. “Yes, prophecies. I have a guest from Darkhana who is helping me with something—helping a lot of us, around the whole world—with something found in a set of prophecies. Guardian Daemon’s comment about people trying to claim the throne made me think of one of its lines . . . hold on . . .” Wracking her memory, she dredged up the line. “Something something . . . ah! By mates and friends, by guides and aides, by outworlder on throne. That was it. Perhaps you should be looking for your solution outkingdom, instead of from within, if the prophecy speaks of the need for a leader on a throne?”

One of the other Guardians coughed. Dominor lifted his fist to his mouth for a moment, clearing his throat. “I am fairly certain that one is referring to our ‘outworlder on throne’ . . . which has yet to fully happen, but which will happen soon. At least, she’s the only outworlder I know of, and she’s already here, working on turning Nightfall into a kingdom with herself as our queen.”

“There was something about fiends in the prophecy I read as well,” Saleria said, peering at his face in its rectangle in the uppermost left corner of the mirror. “And ‘fiends’ is commonly used as a nickname for Netherhell demons. Which is why I thought it might apply.”

Pelai spoke, catching their attention. “The Guardian of the Grove is correct about one thing. Prophecy may very well have something to do with all of this. I will request the librarians in the Great Library to look for records of unfulfilled prophecies involving the Netherhells, demons, fiends, wars, and invasions.”

“We have a fairly extensive library here as well, which I could have the nuns search.” The offer came from the white-wimpled, middle-aged woman named Mother Naima.

Guardian Dominor groaned and covered his face with a hand. “For the love of the Gods, Naima, don’t tell Serina what you’re up to. She’s fretting enough over her pregnancy.”

Mother Naima snorted. “As if I would! By the way, you should be coming over soon, yes?”

“Yes, but not until this meeting is done,” he dismissed. “And I’ll not be upsetting my brothers or sister-in-law just yet over speculations on something that might not happen, and so far probably won’t begin on Nightfall itself . . . though I will give this problem my attention. Once my wife finishes giving birth, that is.”

Kerric, Saleria noted with a bit of sympathetic amusement, looked like he was striving his best not to be impatient at all the sidetracked conversations. He cleared his throat after a moment. “Ahem. As I was saying, we all have things to contribute in this discussion. Since we have at least a few months before we’d probably have to act in some fashion, I would like to send each of you the sets of recordings I have made so far from the future-scrying mirror, and my notes on locations and possible triggering events. Not that I have many of the lattermost, but at least it’s a start.

“Each of you know your own regions far better than I ever will,” he added pointedly. “I am setting aside a portion of the Tower’s scrycasting abilities and powers to work as a routing matrix; these mirrors we’re using all link to here and thus to each other, so please feel free to use them to talk to each other. And though some of us have more direct and immediate problems in our own lands to contend with, we are all Guardians of this world, defenders and protectors of its most precious resources. This includes our neighbors both distant and near, as well as ourselves, our families, and close friends. The Netherhells are therefore all our problem.”

“What sized crystal will we need to store the scrycast recordings in?” the gold-eyed, middle-aged Ilaiea asked. She sounded rather autocratic, as if she were more accustomed to being in charge than most Guardians in Saleria’s admittedly limited experience. Still, the odd, golden-eyed woman had a practical question.