Shifting Stars, page 13
Cat offered a mischievous smile. “Are you saying you don’t believe I can do it?”
“Message getting through, at last, is it?”
“Is mine?” Cat retorted.
“What do you mean?” Mandalee asked with a frown.
“You’re doubting me again, and I’ve told you how I react when you doubt me.”
Mandalee groaned, “You take it as a challenge to do it anyway!”
Catriona stood, confidently. “Challenge accepted!” she declared. “All I need now is your blessing.”
Mandalee, too, got to her feet and embraced her friend. “Always,” she insisted. “You know that. Whatever ridiculous radical plans you come up with, I have your back, no question.”
When they broke the hug, Cat’s smile had grown into a broad grin. “Thanks for the support,” she said, “but when I said I needed your blessing, I actually meant your clerical blessing. Specifically, on my arrows.” She pulled a few clear of her quiver. “And maybe a bottle of water or two.”
“What ever for?” Mandalee wondered.
Cat laughed. “Don’t worry, Mandalee,” she said. “It’s all part of my ridiculous radical plan!”
*****
Catriona didn’t head straight for Gaggleswick and the Black Tower. First, she had another destination in mind, flying all the way to the home of the Red wizard, Xarnas, who had trained Dreya. Nobody else could know Dreya the Dark half as well as him, and that was information she needed.
My mother had already done background research on Xarnas and discovered a useful little nugget of information. His youngest daughter was married to a Faery boy, and they were expecting their first child. Out of respect for the boy’s heritage, Xarnas wanted to give them a special gift: a book of traditional Faery children’s rhymes and lullabies. Such a book was tough to find without the right Faery contacts since human-Faery relationships were still something of a rarity at the time.
Even Catriona herself couldn’t find a book that was good enough, in her opinion, so pulling from her childhood memory of growing up among the Faery, she had written her own.
Xarnas was astonished by the book when Catriona knocked on his door, introduced herself and presented it to him.
Recognising Catriona’s Faery heritage, he told her, “I’d wager that much of what you’ve written here is deeply personal to you.”
Cat felt a pang of regret, thinking about her fantastic childhood and the parents she had lost far too soon.
“Yes, you’re right,” she nodded, sadly, “but I felt it had to be that personal, to match the value of the information I seek in exchange. In fact, no,” she reconsidered, “not ‘in exchange.’ For once, I’m not going to trade the human way. I’m happy to hear of another human-Faery couple and delighted that a great man such as yourself would respect Faery culture enough to give them such a book. In Faery culture, trade is based on giving freely that which is precious, so in that spirit, the book and all it contains are a gift from me to you, given freely, so that you might, in turn, give it freely to your daughter and son-in-law, and they eventually to their child.”
“In that case,” Xarnas said, “it seems to me, as a point of honour, that I should give freely to you something that is precious to me. What can I do for you?”
Cat told him she wanted to learn everything she could about Dreya the Dark.
Xarnas studied Catriona as he considered that. “When most people ask about Dreya, they either want to know about her extraordinary power, or how I could train what they see as a ‘servant of Darkness.’ Some have even been known to use the word ‘evil.’” He shrugged. “At least they’re honest: many others think it while not daring to say it. I suspect you are not like any of these.”
Cat shook her head, emphatically. “I would never be so pejorative,” she promised, “and I very much doubt Dreya is a servant of anything.”
She explained further that she was not only interested in Dreya's powers and abilities, but also the Faery woman herself. Her personality, her interests – to understand her, or at least begin to.
“A laudable goal,” Xarnas approved. “To seek knowledge and understanding lies at the heart of our Red order of Balance.”
With that, he invited her into his home, where he was pleased to tell her everything she wanted to know.
He also told her he had heard varying accounts of Catriona Redfletching, but the only one he paid attention to was Justaria, his successor on the Triumvirate, who described her as ‘a handful of trouble.’
“I’m certain she intended it as a compliment.”
Cat smiled a smile of secrets. “Oh, you have no idea how much trouble I can be,” she said, eyes dancing with mischief. “I’m a veritable Trickster, sometimes!”
Xarnas grinned, “And that is exactly what you will need to be to grab Dreya’s attention. If you want to impress her, you will have to fight her without ever attacking her.”
He paused for a moment, before adding, “I would never tell this to anyone else, no matter what they tried to trade, but in the spirit of giving freely, I will say this: I feel sorry for Dreya the Dark.”
Cat was stunned. She never would have imagined hearing such a statement, but now that he’d said it, she knew this was the most critical part of their conversation. This was why she’d come here. More than anything else, this was what she needed to know.
Xarnas explained himself, saying, “She once told me her ambition was to be known as the Greatest Mage Who Ever Lived.”
Cat nodded. She could understand that sentiment. She didn’t share it – she didn’t think of her druid magic in quite those terms – but she could understand it. In many ways, it was admirable: if you’re passionate about something, why not strive to be the best?
“But to my mind,” Xarnas continued, “that title is hers already. Think about it: You’ve studied the reign of terror for which Ulvarius was responsible three centuries ago?”
Again, Cat nodded, not wanting to disturb the moment by speaking.
“Well, it’s easy to imagine the story of a powerful mage, working their whole lives to try and take his tower, remove the blot on the landscape that he left behind as a deadly, terrifying legacy. Then maybe, after decades of preparation and study, at the peak of their powers, they finally succeed at some terrible personal cost, and retire to their well-earned new home.”
Once more, Cat nodded. The story practically wrote itself, and she knew the twist that was coming.
“But Dreya finishes her apprenticeship with me and takes the Black Tower in five minutes flat, with nary a scratch apart from a prick on her finger from a single rose thorn, as she invents stable blood magic practically on the spot.”
Cat knew the story – everybody did – she'd just never looked at it the way Xarnas did.
“Then, having moved in and begun to make the formerly dangerous place a thing of beauty, her new neighbours attack her! Attack her? They should have been thanking her! I swear, if she hadn’t ripped out their souls, I would have done it myself!”
Catriona placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his arm. He was almost in tears; such was his passion.
“So, what’s left for her? She’s so young, especially by Faery standards. She’s achieved more than any mage in history, and it’s not enough.”
Catriona understood. “She’s bored,” she realised. “She must be.”
“And that’s why I feel sorry for her. Be creative, Catriona, be inventive. Keep her guessing. Don’t underestimate how dangerous she is and don’t let her pin you down, literally or figuratively. Keep her off balance, never knowing what’s coming next, and I truly believe you might just succeed. I hope so, because in my opinion, knowing Dreya as I do, a ‘handful of trouble’ could be exactly what she needs in her life.”
Chapter 16
My mother had learned her lessons well, gentle reader, and by this stage of her life, she refused to go into any situation unprepared. For this action, she knew she had to do her homework like never before. She would get only one shot at this, and if her preparations were anything less than meticulous, she would fail. Perhaps even die.
Thanks to Xarnas, she had done the theory, and her magic was as prepared as it was ever going to be. There was just one more factor to consider: the lay of the land. If she were going to impress Dreya the Dark, she would have to confront her in her own grounds. Typically, of course, the land was a friend to my mother, but these lands were different. They had once belonged to Ulvarius, but Dreya had tamed them and made them her own.
It was the night before Midsummer, and under cover of darkness, Cat flew over Sylfrania in the form of a tawny owl. Unsurprisingly, the whole Faery woodlands were in full bloom. Midsummer’s Day was a big day of romance in Faery culture and a traditional day for prominent weddings. As a Quarthonian Faery, she wasn’t up with Sylfranian politics, but doubtless both communities would be busy tomorrow.
Passing over Ainderbury and crossing into human lands, she found a quiet perch in a tree in Gaggleswick, close to the Black Tower, and took a moment to rest and go over her plan. In this form, she was hopeful that she could scout Dreya’s lands with impunity. In truth, she had no way of knowing how far Dreya’s powers of detection might extend, but this was the best she could do. She had decided to forgo any red bands, confident that she was too focused on her goal to lose herself. In fact, she was mostly ready to let go of that crutch altogether, except for her red-banded falcon, just because it was the first form she’d successfully used and after so long, it wouldn’t feel right without the red bands. Catriona was encouraged when a passing barn owl seemed to take a liking to her. If another owl was convinced of her ‘owliness’ and did not find anything strange about her, she was hopeful that any detection magic would be equally unconcerned.
Resuming her flight and crossing into Dreya’s lands, she could see Xarnas had not exaggerated about the beauty of Dreya’s grounds, now that she had had time to work on them. In fact, Cat grudgingly admitted that she couldn’t have done much better herself. Dreya had transformed this patch of nature, freeing it from a three-hundred-year curse. It would not easily be turned against her. Catriona had prepared for this, however. That’s why she was here.
As I have said previously, gentle reader, my mother routinely carried nature with her, but for this, she needed to go one step further and plant the literal seeds of success in Dreya’s grounds.
She had been carrying plant seeds in her beak since she transformed, and now she let them fall onto the ground beneath her. She was glad to spit them out, but it had been the only way. Using her pocket dimension magic here would no doubt set off all kinds of alarm bells, which would be counter-productive, to say the least. As it was, she only had to use a tiny bit of druid magic, in essence, whispering to the soil to move ever so slightly, to cover the seeds, and encouraging them to begin to quietly germinate. Job done, for now, she flew away to get some rest. She would be back in the middle of the day in a different form.
*****
At noon the next day, as the sun beat down upon the Black Tower, a red-banded falcon was perched on a tree just outside the grounds observing, with her sharp eyes, the black-robed woman sitting on the steps of the Tower, reading a book of magic and occasionally sipping on a glass of wine. The bird also observed the patches of greenery that had grown overnight. Plants that wouldn’t look at all out of place unless the observer was keenly in tune with nature. Certainly not the undead guards that served as groundskeepers. The stage was set, the player was ready. Time for the performance to begin.
Gliding silently to the ground, Catriona reverted to her natural form, pulling her clothes and spell ingredients out of her pocket dimension, as well as her bow and arrows. She was nervous but embraced the butterflies as she walked calmly but purposefully towards the ornate iron gate that opened into Dreya’s gardens.
The groundskeepers paid her no heed. Dreya didn’t often entertain visitors, but neither did she kill everyone who set foot on her land. Her guards and defences would react only in the event of a threat to Dreya herself. Cat had to make sure to not play her hand too soon. For now, she had to walk and wait.
After a few minutes, Catriona arrived at the optimum distance from where Dreya sat and, making no sudden movements, came to a natural halt. Tied to the end of her arrows, along with her trademark red fletching, were roses – some red, some white. Being careful of the thorns, she nocked a non-matching pair and let them fly, swiftly followed by another and a third. The half dozen arrows never got close to Dreya, sailing high and wide to stick to her doorframe, thanks to some magically modified tree resin on the flattened tips. From there, the flowers grew into a rosebush that blocked the entrance entirely.
Dreya’s groundskeepers stopped their gardening and moved threateningly towards Catriona, but a quick mental word with nature caused the plants she had seeded to proliferate and grab them, the stems wrapping around them and preventing any movement. The more they struggled, the more the plants grew, and the tighter they squeezed.
Unconcerned, Dreya placed a bookmark in her book, closed it and put it away in a pocket in her black velvet robes.
Cat found herself feeling quite envious of Dreya’s robes. They looked so soft! Their colour was, without doubt, the blackest black she had ever seen – as if they were spun from the fabric of the night sky. Dreya glanced behind her at the roses and then finally looked up at Catriona.
“That’s an original way to deliver flowers,” she remarked.
“Oh, I’m nothing if not original,” Cat replied.
“And what’s the occasion?”
“Occasion?”
“Well, call me old-fashioned, but when someone brings me flowers, there’s usually an occasion of some kind.”
“Usually?” Cat wondered. “Do people bring you flowers often, then, Dreya?”
“No,” Dreya admitted. “Not often. In fact, I can’t remember the last time anyone did. Which brings me back to…”
“…an occasion,” Cat finished, nodding. “OK, that makes sense. Well, I suppose you could say they’re a ‘thank you.’”
“A ‘thank you’? For what?”
“For agreeing to my proposal.”
Dreya arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “You’re proposing to me now?”
Cat winced slightly at her choice of words and warned herself not to be too smart mouthed. Catriona loved playing with words, but clearly, she was in the presence of a master wordsmith. She’d meant to say ‘proposition’ but having said ‘proposal,’ she had little choice but to go with it.
“Well, it is Midsummer’s Day,” she reminded Dreya. Perhaps that was the reason for her slip of the tongue. “But I think we should take it slow,” she said, “date a bit first. Starting with, say, a study date in your library.”
“Interesting idea,” Dreya remarked, “although if we’re going to be dating and eventually married, it seems to me I should probably at least know your name.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” said Cat. “I’m Catriona Redfletching, and you’re going to give me access to your library before this day is done.”
Dreya got to her feet with a kind of fluid grace that reminded Catriona of Shyleen when she’d spotted some fascinating prey, just before her claws came out.
“‘Before this day is done,’ eh?” Dreya echoed. “Someone’s been doing her homework, but then Xarnas does like to brag about his finest student. Not that I can blame him.”
“Well, you are his crowning achievement.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Dreya said, dismissively.
“No flattery,” Cat assured her. “You’re Dreya the Dark – you’re famous.”
“As are you, Catriona Redfletching,” Dreya replied. “According to legend, you’re quite happy to demolish a wizard’s entire home just to get your hands on a single book. I can only imagine what you’ll do for an entire library.”
Cat gave her a crooked smile. “I’m showing you what I’m prepared to do.”
“Do you really believe you can just tear the Black Tower apart? Do you really think you have that power?”
“Power isn’t everything,” Cat shrugged, “and what I believe is that I will have access to your library before this day is done.”
“And what’s to stop me calling on my grounds’ defences to kill you where you stand?”
Cat glanced around, making a show of being unconcerned. “Your guards seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.”
Dreya snorted, “If you’ve done this much prep work, you must know I have a lot more defences than that. Unlike Ulvarius, I keep them dormant, because I’m not insecure enough to jump at every shadow that passes across my land.” She paused before adding pointedly, “No matter what shape that shadow might take.”
Cat fought the urge to respond to that. It was possible Dreya knew all about her avian activities. However, it was equally likely the sorceress knew only that she could shapeshift and was simply making a perfectly reasonable guess. Cat was an information trader, and she wasn’t going to make the mistake of volunteering information just because the other party might already know. She’d used that trick herself.
“Still,” Dreya continued, “it only requires a thought to reactivate them, if necessary. So, tell me, Catriona Redfletching—”
“—Call me Cat,” she interrupted, taking back some control over the conversation.
“Very well, Cat it is, then, and while we’re on the subject of names, given my rank as Secondmage of the Black order, you really should address me as Mistress Dreya, according to Council rules.”
“Actually, I have a few issues with Council rules,” Cat told her.
“So do I,” said Dreya.
“You see? We’ve got something in common. Our date’s going really well already!”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Sorry,” Cat apologised. “You were going to ask me something and I interrupted you.”
She was determined not to let the supreme mistress of control have things her own way, so she made it seem as if Dreya needed her permission to continue.
