They come, Druidecht. Be ready. The Thirteen seek you.
Canton Vaud calls.
Come. You must come.
Annon sensed the presence of others in the woods, watching the forms begin to emerge from the trees. There were Bhikhu mixed with Druidecht, approaching.
Lukias’s head jerked and his face went ashen. “Who are these emissaries?”
Tyrus turned to Annon, gazing at him. Can I trust you? he seemed to be asking.
They come, Druidecht. They are here.
Canton Vaud summons you.
Come.
Annon stared at Tyrus and nodded firmly.
“Despite what I may think of their beliefs, the Druidecht hierarchy known as Canton Vaud are the most trusted and respected of individuals throughout the kingdom. They are the only ones known to be welcomed as honored guests even beyond the borders of our lands. Even the Boeotians pay them respect.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Phae was not always certain how she felt about her father. His moods were mercurial and his behavior seemed to alter depending on who they were with. When they had spoken in the cellar below the woodsman’s lodging, he was thoughtful and even tender. She had seen him scold Annon and flinched for the pain he was causing the young Druidecht. She had watched him interrogate the Rike known as Lukias with brutal efficiency and could fully understand his cold distrust. He shifted his communication depending on the circumstance, almost like a performer would in front of an ever-changing audience.
She knew he was powerful, but also that he had powerful enemies. She was beginning to realize that his power may not lie so much in his knowledge of magic as it did with his knowledge of influencing people. There was a hazy feeling of suppressed danger in the air whenever he was near. It made her want to be closer to Shion, just in case another terrible danger tried to destroy her father. Shion was the only presence amongst the group where she felt a small measure of safety. Maybe it was when he took the blast of the Kishion himself to shield her. Someone who would do that, not knowing if it would destroy them, deserved her trust. She saw his eyes constantly alert, his body tense as a bowstring. He was trained as a killer, yet she trusted him with her life. She still feared him though.
As the new arrivals appeared, consisting of two Druidecht and several Vaettir protectors, Phae noticed Shion step next to her. It was as if an invisible chain appeared between them, binding them together. She watched Annon stare at the newcomers, his face mixed with different emotions.
Annon looked back at Tyrus. “Palmanter,” he whispered. “He’s one of the Thirteen.”
“I know him,” Tyrus responded distrustfully. “Let me speak first.”
Tyrus stood at the head of the group. Phae watched his hand slip into a pocket. She stared at the arrivals and blinked quickly. She had never seen so many Vaettir before and wondered if the rumors were true, that they could fly. Their Bhikhu robes were plain and gray and many walked with polished staves. Of the two Druidecht, one was a man and the other a woman. The man had a thick mane of gray hair. He was tall, as tall as her father, and built strongly. His eyes were keen and appraising, glancing quickly across each of their faces. The woman looked more frail, with a pinched nose and auburn hair cut short. She looked like a form of a bird, but her expression was serious and probing.
“Greetings again, Tyrus,” the gray-haired Druidecht said. His expression was decidedly nervous. “It has been many weeks since you sought refuge in Canton Vaud.”
Tyrus replied with a measured voice. “Which you refused to grant, if I recall.”
“Do you have enmity now against Canton Vaud?” the woman asked pointedly.
Tyrus gazed at her. “I do not, Stoern. How did you find me?”
Palmanter held up his hand to prevent her answering. “Annon—it is good to see you as well. You wear the cassock of the Rikes now. Has your allegiance shifted? I see your talisman still?”
Annon folded his arms. “I am a Druidecht. These clothes do not change that.”
“Why are you here?” Tyrus pressed, stepped forward.
His step caused Palmanter to flinch. Great beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He was clearly nervous.
“Why do you fear me?” Tyrus asked. “I am no threat to you.”
“Truly?” Palmanter asked, his voice thick with distrust.
“You did not grant me sanctuary, but I do not resent it. The Thirteen have a truce with Kenatos, but we are not enemies. I respect Canton Vaud.”
“Your actions in Silvandom would say otherwise,” the woman, Stoern, said archly.
“What actions do you speak of?” Tyrus pressed.
Palmanter held up one of his meaty hands. “We wish you to come to Canton Vaud, Tyrus. To answer…some questions.”