It was good being back in his old Druidecht clothes again. Annon had gratefully discarded the black cassock and returned to his pack for his old attire. He kept the torc around his neck. Canton Vaud no longer held the allure it once had. He had visited it before and had found his friend Reeder camped there in a small pavilion. He knew Palmanter was one of the Thirteen and he wanted to trust him, but the reception they had received had troubled him greatly and Stoern’s rebuke had rattled him. He was used to the respect afforded his position as a Druidecht. The thought of losing his talisman and being cast off from the order filled him with dread. He believed the order was fair. If he could persuade them of the dangers they faced, that the Arch-Rike was a mutual enemy, he hoped to get them on their side and win their trust.
After crossing the woods of Silvandom back to Canton Vaud, they were brought to an expansive pavilion to rest, eat, and change before being summoned to the presence of the Thirteen. The long walk had not afforded the privilege of private conversation, so he had not spoken to Tyrus at all along the way.
After changing his clothes, he approached the man cautiously, noticing Khiara had already changed as well and sat in a meditation position, head bowed. Tyrus picked from a platter of food, tasting an assortment of nuts and cheeses. Phae was resting on a small pallet, speaking in low tones to the Kishion. Lukias brooded and paced, his eyes traveling across the pavilion, taking in every detail.
“What is it?” Tyrus asked, motioning Annon over. “You have questions.”
“I was a little surprised you chose to come willingly,” Annon said. He nestled down on a cushion and took some fruit from the tray. “Do you think we are safe here?”
A wry smile flickered across his mouth. “Of course we are not safe here.” His voice dropped very low. “The Arch-Rike has a spy in Canton Vaud.”
“What?” Annon asked, leaning forward. His stomach clenched. “Who?”
“I am trying to figure it out. Probably one of the Thirteen. I have been trying to reason it out myself.”
“Do you think it is Stoern?” Annon whispered.
Tyrus shook his head. “No, she is too easily ruffled. Someone more subtle. What do you know of Palmanter?”
Annon’s anxiety went into a full raging panic. “Reeder was friends with him. He is the one who told me some of the Dryad lore. He revealed the boon and counseled me to stay by the tree.”
Tyrus stroked his beard. “You look unsettled.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Annon said with a gasp. “We are in the middle of Canton Vaud, surrounded by the most powerful Druidecht in the lands. There are spirits here, powers we cannot understand.”
Tyrus met his gaze, listening intently.
Annon edged closer to him. “Which is why I was surprised you would bring us here.” He grabbed a handful of nuts and began eating them. They were heavily salted and tasted delicious. Nizeera was coiled near the door, head on her paws, watching them closely.
Tyrus leaned forward. “You must trust me, Annon. Trust that I know something about the spirits of Mirrowen. Trust that I know every possible way of taming them. The situation has changed since we were last here. The Arch-Rike attempted to murder us in Silvandom. There were corpses left behind. He has also lost one of his most valuable allies. He has invented a story to lay the blame on me. You saw how they treated me. I am not afraid of the truth. Whether or not they choose to help us, we will continue. The pieces are starting to come together.”
Annon hated cryptic comments like that. “What do you mean?”
“All in good time, my boy.” Tyrus smiled knowingly.
Phae was drowsy and the blankets were very soft and comfortable. She blinked slowly. She shook her head and sat up. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
Shion nodded, sitting on the floor next to the pallet. “You should rest. The others are, except for Tyrus.”
Brushing hair around her ear, Phae looked across the dimly-lit pavilion. Annon was curled up next to Nizeera, his expression showing possible nightmares. Khiara was still in her trance, head down, black hair veiling her face. Lukias was spread out on another pallet, breathing softly.
“There is a smell here that reminds me of Stonehollow.” She looked around and then noticed the cask of wine and the pewter cups. “Ah.”
He glanced where she was looking and then looked down at his hands. She could see him wrestling with himself.
“What is it?” she whispered, touching his sleeve.
“I’m conflicted,” he murmured softly. “Something Lukias said gnaws at me.”
She remembered the comment perfectly. She tightened her grip on his arm. “Promise me, Shion. When this is through, you will confront your memories. You will face your past.”