A New Storm pt 2

Harlan stayed in his seat for a long while after Harmony left the room. His fingers gripped the handrests tightly, stiff with shock. She knew. 

She had somehow guessed that he was blind, and his denial had not dissuaded her suspicions… How? What else did she know? Why did she say those things–that he was a good leader? Was she patronizing him? His face warmed as he remembered her words, falling like hot coals that lit his mind on fire. Why? Was she being kind to him? Was she being insincere? Did she want something?

But he had sensed no lie, no insincerity in her aura. Only genuine warmth, and gentle curiosity. It had been so long since he had spoken to anyone outside of Fyn, Jak or the Captain, that he had almost forgotten what it was like to speak so freely; he was surprised that he had recalled his father's lessons on ordering a court, so well. But he was far more surprised by the Lady Harmony. Her voice was so powerful and clear, so assured; it matched her aura perfectly. The living violet of her, that shone in his thoughts even now, from the Wall house, so far and yet so near.

He wondered how he should approach her tomorrow; he had made the request to meet her to talk with her about the call to Blackwall. He had realized that she, of all the people in Grebefal, was the only one aside from Captain Neil, who might possibly assist them in the sort of aid his Royal cousin had required of him. Lady Harmony was a mage; a powerful mage, and undoubtedly very skilled, if she was capable of healing the child Benly so quickly.

She would be able to assist in aiding soldiers in a battle; a healer is always needed in battle, and might give them a much-needed edge. And Harlan knew full well, that there were paltry few soldiers in his town. Miners, yes; farmers, and some skilled tradesmen, yes. But Grebefal had been at peace for so long, that it was sadly lacking in any sort of military. Lady Harmony's skills would mean the difference between life and death for his unskilled fighters, in a real battle. 

Harlan knew that since he had been ordered to come to Blackwall by the Empress-apparent herself, he couldn't delay or disobey. Disobedience to an imperial order would carry the same result as casting himself in all his disability, on the mercy of the common folk; he would be removed, if not killed outright... And perhaps, just perhaps, Harmony would be willing to keep his true secret, the secret of his deformity, not just from people in Grebefal, but from people in Blackwall as well. He had nothing to lose–she already knew he was blind, and had said that she would keep that, a secret. More than that, he felt he could trust her. The soft, clear voice and sure words she had spoken rang in his ears; it made something deep in him tremble. He was born into this conundrum; born to lead in a position which would cause him to be killed, if anyone knew him truly. I can do this, he thought. I must convince her; my very survival depends on it.

Fyn came in, finally, and asked him if she could take him back to his room. He nodded, still thinking about the events of the day.

"My Lord? What's gotcha' so twisted?"

"Ah. Fyn…I…have invited the Lady Harmony to come and meet with me tomorrow. After breakfast."

Fyn's aura radiated shock and joy. "My Lord! You're seeing the Lady?!" 

"Fyn, it's not…a date. I'm not marrying her; it's just for business. I need to ask her for her help. Would you speak to Master Jak, about the letter we received? I am too weary at the moment to explain… I would like to lie down for a while."

Fyn sighed. "Yes, My Lord. Here–take my hand. I'll help ye down."

Harlan almost reached out; but something made him stop. "Not lacking in any way", she had said. I can do this, I know how… 

"A moment, Fyn–I want to try on my own."

Harlan smiled grimly as he heard Fyn's mouth pop open. Without saying more, he reached into himself and scanned the area carefully. Then he stood, and leaned down a little to pick up the blanket; picked it up, and held it out towards Fyn, who took it; then he steadied himself and took a few steps forward, and where he saw the scanned step, he stepped down, carefully putting his weight on his back leg, and leading with the other. It worked; he stepped down. Again, he brought both feet together, scanned, stepped down with his good foot. This time he wobbled a little, and stretched his arms out to steady himself. Then again, once more; the final wide step of the dias, and now his scan showed him flat, even floor before him. He felt a thrill of achievement, of power in what he'd just done; he had used stairs, alone and unaided. 

Not lacking, she had said… 

He found the doorway and walked towards it, then turned briefly back. "Fyn; Tomorrow, I would like to meet with the Lady and her guests–her son and maidservant–in the dining room. Will you prepare some light snacks and tea, and set our seats together?" He smiled. "We may be discussing business, but it can't hurt to be friendly, as well."

Fyn's voice fairly trembled with joy as she gasped, "Aye, me Lord! That I would!"

Not lacking in any way. 

***********

The next morning after feeding Kyir and getting dressed in their best clothes, Harmony, Muse and Kyir were on their way. As Lord Grebefal had said, Mistress Fyn stood at the castle door waiting for them; she waved them cheerfully in. "Right this way, my Lady, his Lordship is wait'n on the dining room. We've tea and cakes, and it'll be a nice spot for a chat."

Harmony glanced at Muse, who looked thrilled at the idea of cakes; she hadn't had any sweets in Grebefal except what she could get Agatha to give her, and she LOVED sugar. Down, girl, Harmony thought, smiling knowingly at her. 

Hey! I can control myself, Muse replied primly. I'll be the very picture of sophistication. 

Harmony shook her head, grinning at the idea of a sophisticated Muse; and they followed Fyn to the dining room. It was on an even higher floor than the courtroom had been; how many floors did this castle have? They entered the lift, and listened to it clatter and groan as it rose higher and higher. Muse looked curiously at the controls, but said nothing. Kyir stared around at the walls and floors, interested in everything. He struggled to get down, wanting to crawl around, but Harmony held him fast. Shh, little one. Not this time. We need to be calm, and not explore, here. Kyir stared at her suspiciously, but settled down a little. After a moment he stuck a fat thumb in his mouth and began exploring the area with his eyes, instead. And it was well worth seeing; the hallway they entered when the lift came to a halt, was full of paintings. Large, beautiful paintings of scenes and people; one of Grebefal tower, showed the tree beside the wall house in bloom–full of dangling purple blossoms. 

Ah–the tree–it's a wisteria, Harmony thought.

Another painting showed a young woman, in balloon pants and a flowing blouse, with long dark brown hair that fluttered in a wind; she looked happy and strong. Another showed the same woman, in similar dress, with a young man, whose hair was grey-blonde and wore a long white robe with some kind of silver buckle. He leaned on a staff and carried some kind of fruit under one arm. Those must be the Lord and Lady Grebefal before this one, Harmony thought. His parents? 

Yet another painting was of waves and water with a great fish, and there was one of a ship with square sails; there was one of a great black raven, whose eyes seemed to follow them up the corridor. And the last one, the smallest of the paintings, was of a cornucopia of fruits, nuts and grains, spilling out over a harvest table. Some of the nuts on one corner were oddly shaped and colored, as if painted by a child.

They reached the door at the end of the corridor and Mistress Fyn knocked; Harlan's voice answered from inside. "Come in!"

As they entered, they saw a huge room of glaringly white stone, with tiny rivers of gold running in lines, criss-crossing the floor. A raised fireplace at one end had a cheerful little fire, which crackled brightly; streams of light poured in from open shutters, with more windows here than any other room Harmony had seen, a total of six, which were close enough to the floor to look out of. They had white curtains with golden trim on each window, which shimmered in the sunlight. Harlan was seated at a small table, off to one side; the great table in the middle of the room was heaped with a small feast of sugared cakes, pastries and fruit dumplings. Muse gazed longingly at these, but waited for Harmony to say the word. Mistress Fyn quietly left the room; and Harlan beckoned them closer.