Episode 53

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

“To call the garden beautiful would be doing it a great disservice. Of course it is beautiful, more beautiful than any view, more astounding than any fairy forest from some forgotten fable. But it is so much more than its beauty. It is a place of peace, a place of wonder. It is where sweet dreams meet carefree memories. Where the flowers shine like little lights and the water tastes of freshly squeezed peaches. It is cold when you feel like being cozy, and warm when you wish to bathe in the sunbeams. I have seen it, in visions, felt it briefly while in a state of deep trance and I tell you that ever since learning of its existence it takes all my effort to keep myself from thinking of it always. I’m sure you’re asking yourselves now, ‘Sage Fenric, tell us, how can we glimpse this beauty? How is it that we can visit the garden?’ Well my friends, you need not fear. The garden is there for everyone and large enough to be alone when you wish for solitude and welcoming enough to be surrounded by faithful friends when you wish for company. You have all been kind enough to welcome me and my mine into your town and for that we thank you. In return for your kindness and hospitality, let me give you something in return. Let me give you the keys to the garden so that you may experience its sweetness for yourselves. Let me give Benlunar this gift. Presently I find myself still a little tired from my journey but please, join me tomorrow at this time and I promise, the keys will be yours.

But… before we part ways, a word of warning. The garden is a great prize, and as with most things that are worth attaining in this life the journey there is quite demanding. Only the most devoted will obtain the keys and so please take this night and day to truly ask yourself if you have the dedication, the nerve and the strength necessary to be worthy of the garden. You will encounter many doubters on your journey, people who lack the fortitude to achieve the prize and so will try to keep you from achieving it too, if only as a way to console themselves. My advice to you is to stay strong, pay them no mind and let your reward of eternal peace be justification enough for your actions. Thank you for listening to me, I look forward to speaking to you all again tomorrow.”

The meeting ended somewhat abruptly. Lilian felt as though there was more to be said, as if gathering the entire town into the Stave meant that they were owed more than just a few words. But she did admit to herself that a part of her appreciated the short, sharp quality to the speech. Better that than one of Brother Thomas’ endless musings on one his favourite stories. She looked round to see if anyone else shared her sense of lacking but most people seemed to be excitedly whispering to each other. Perhaps this man’s previous talks had been a similar length and they were not so surprised. Lilian watched him leave the Stave along with his companions. Their cloaks left trails in the dust behind them and they exited the Stave without so much as a look back.

Brother Thomas got to his feet. Some of the townsfolk were standing as well, as if they’d heard all they’d come to hear.

“Well, that was, another interesting talk,” stated Brother Thomas, “While I encourage all points of view and you’re all of course welcome into the Stave any time I do hope to see you all here for our regular meeting three days hence…” Several people smiled politely at him while several more chatted under their breath, ignoring Brother Thomas entirely. A few who were sitting near the entrance actually got up to leave. Once Brother Thomas finished addressing the room, that strange expression returned to his face. A mix of worry and fear.

Lilian stood up and turned to her Mum and Dad.

“I’m just going to see Brother Thomas,” her father’s expression seemed to match that of the Church Brother but her Mother’s face was the picture of gleeful jubilance.

“Hm? Oh yes of course, we’ll come with you.” The Lausanne family picked their way down the raised bench seating and then stepped into the middle of the hall. A confused daughter, a concerned father and an ecstatic mother with a spring in her step. Brother Thomas’ face relaxed when he saw them approach.

“Lilian, it’s so good to see you!” he opened his arms wide and Lilian ran into his embrace. There had been time and business enough to forgive him for his lies about his involvement with The Guiding Hand and Lilian was grown enough now to see he had only been trying to protect her. It wasn’t until she squeezed his waist tightly that she fully understood how much she’d missed him.

“How are you Brother Thomas?” she asked as she released him from the hug. He considered the question.

“I am… well enough. Better for seeing you, surely. I see you’ve witnessed our new visitor.” Lilian’s mother cut into the conversation.

“Isn't he wonderful, Brother? I’ve never heard of this garden of which he spoke. Is it in the book of stories?”

“There are many gardens, glades and grounds mentioned in the stories but they are normally stages for the characters. I cannot think of one garden so important as to warrant its own story. The forest where Denover meets Liebling is described as being particularly beautiful but it’s never given a name. The storiedo not, of course, describe real places, they are merely metaphors for us to better understand our plights…”

Polly Lausanne interrupted him before he got going properly.

“Well perhaps this garden is not part of the stories, but something new entirely. I must say it sounded intriguing. Do you suppose it is somewhere one would travel to? Or perhaps a sort of state of being? Sage Fenric described it as somewhere quite real.” Edward Lausanne had said nothing up to this point but it was clear to Lilian by the shifting of his weight from foot to foot and his occasional long exhalations that he was feeling uncomfortable.

“Whatever it is, I don't think we need concern ourselves too greatly. This Fenric man is a visitor and so will be gone soon I’m sure. A good story is just that.” Brother Thomas nodded and Lilian caught a glimpse of a small smile. Lilian’s mother looked a little crestfallen. Lilian was about to say some consoling words when a man approached their circle. He tapped Lilian on her right shoulder and she turned to see her new friend Doran. He looked agitated and dabbed at his forehead and neck with an old handkerchief as he spoke.

“Lilian… may I have a word?” Lilian smiled when she saw him.

“Oh hello Doran, yes of course. One moment, Doran, this is my mother Polly and my father Edward and this is Brother Thomas, he runs the Stave.” Everyone nodded and smiled politely, Doran even bowed but his nervous twitching never ceased. “Everyone, this is Mikhail Doran, we met on the road up.”

“A pleasure. Mr and Mrs Lausanne you have an exceptional daughter and I must apologise for taking her away from your reunion. I promise to be brief. Brother Thomas, I think my news would interest you as well, would you mind joining us somewhere private?” The small crowd, including Lilian, were a little bewildered by this stranger’s urgency.

“Of course, we can talk in my office.” He gestured to the little door at the back of the hall near the statue of the doe. Lilian said goodbye to her parent’s and promised to meet them at the Fox & Octopus later for dinner. Then she followed Doran and Brother Thomas to the back of the hall.

Once they entered the ‘office’, which was a generous term for a dusty room stacked with books and theatre props, they cleared a path to some chairs and sat down. Lilian had to pick up a sleeping cat before she could sit on the large red armchair, which she felt bad about but after a little stretch and scratch the cat quickly fell asleep again on her lap. Doran did not sit down. He paced around what little floor space there was, muttering the occasional word to himself. Brother Thomas looked worryingly at Lilian who shrugged.

“Doran?” She wanted to ask if he was alright but Doran did not let her get to the question. Instead, a tirade of worried words fell out of him like someone had tipped over one of the room’s many bookcases.

“It was that word, garden, he said. That man, the strange, what does he call himself? A sage? That was odd as well. What even is a sage? A healer? A holy man? I’m not sure, but that wasn’t the only thing. That word he kept repeating. Garden. Not just a garden but he called it the garden. It struck me as strange. I’d heard it before, I’m sure of it, but I could not place the occasion. If he had been in a market or an inn I’m sure I would have not recognised it but we were in a Church. That’s how I remembered! Although… I can’t be sure.”

Lilian suddenly grew very aware of how little she really knew about this man. He’d seemed normal enough during the hours they’d shared on the road. But this behaviour struck her as very odd indeed. Brother Thomas stood up.

“My friend, you seem… agitated. Can I make you a cup of tea?” Doran barely seemed to hear him at first and when he looked up at Brother Thomas’ kind face he seemed not to recognise him. Reality, quickly came back to him and he agreed to the offer.

A few minutes later, Doran was sipping on one of Brother Thomas’ famous brewed chamomile teas. The sweet scent of it, combined with the ticking of the nearby clock and the purring of the cat seemed to slow him down and Doran was back to his old self within half a cup.

“I’m sorry, I just… I have to be sure.” Lilian leaned in closer.

“It’s okay Doran, you're with friends.” Doran nodded, took one more sip of tea and then began to speak.

“A few weeks back, I was on the road and looking for shelter…”

He told a chilling tale. One of a small village, seemingly empty of residents. A little girl worried for her family. A church filled with pious devotees, hungry and gaunt. It ended with a daring escape and feelings of fear and regret.

“It was her, the little girl, Elski that said the word. When I asked where everyone was she said they were trying to go to the garden. I had no idea what that meant at the time. But when that man repeated the phrase just now, the memory of her little thin wrists and big dark eyes came back to me.” Doran bowed his head down and Lilian caught sight of a tear falling from his face. It caught the light for just an instant before falling into his tea. “I left her there with them. And I’ll never let myself forget it.” There was a pause. The clock ticked, the cat snored and Brother Thomas stirred.

“It sounds like you did all you could, Mr Doran. By the way you tell it, they would have kept you there, perhaps even hurt you. And to take a child away from her parents…” He stopped, letting the impossible choice hang in the air between them. Doran wiped his eyes and nose.

“It might be nothing. But I wanted to tell you both anyway. In case… In case that man is dangerous.”

Lilian had been listening intently. She looked down at the little tabby in her lap and absent mindedly stroked its side while she considered Doran’s words.

“Brother Thomas,” she said, “when did Sage Fenric arrive in Benlunar?”

The church brother stood up and went to fetch Doran a handkerchief, “Three days ago. I remember seeing him enter the townsquare in his caravan. It drew quite the crowd. A large brightly coloured thing, pulled by a white plough horse. There were two actually, I assume one belongs to the three women he has travelling with him. We didn’t see much of them that first day, I assumed they were just passing through. But the next morning he came to me to ask if he might speak at the Stave that afternoon,” he gave the handkerchief to Doran who accepted it with a grateful smile. “I asked him what it was he wanted to discuss but he avoided my questions. He told me to trust him and that the people of Benlunar would be glad to hear what he had to say. It’s always been my belief that a Stave should be open to all and I had no reason to deny him.” Lilian watched as Brother Thomas’ forehead wrinkled with concern. He looked as though he might be regretting his decision.

“Where are the caravans now?” she asked.

“Hargen directed them to the small paddock on the west side of town. On the edge of the wood.” Lilian knew the place. It was a communal green where anyone could let their cattle graze. There was a grassy hill there that kept the animals from venturing too far up the mountain. During winter, when the animals were inside, the children of Benlunar would descend en masse to sledge down the hill, seeing who could get the furthest across the flat ground.

Brother Thomas sat down once more and the room grew quiet. The cat continued to snore, its rhythmic squeaks punctuating the otherwise silent seconds. Finally, Lilian took in a deep breath and sighed.

“It’s tricky. Obviously we don’t want Benlunar to end up like that village but we don’t know if that man had anything to do with that. At the same time… this Sage Fenric hasn’t done anything wrong. Not that I can think of anyway.” Brother Thomas nodded his head,

“He is a little strange,” conceded the Church Brother, “but if we start shunning people for being different then well… I would hate to think where that would lead.” Doran blew his nose loudly, startling the cat awake as he did.

“All good points, fair and good. I just… I wanted to bring it to your attention. I would hate to see something bad befall your community and regret not warning you all sooner.”

“We’re very grateful Mr Doran,” said Brother Thomas, standing up once more, “you’ve given me something important to consider. I shall take the evening to think on it and consider the best course of action. It was lovely to meet you sir, you’re welcome at the Stave anytime and Lilian, it’s so good to see you.” Lilian moved the cat off her lap, stood up and hugged Brother Thomas again.

“I’ll come and see you soon,” she said, bringing a wide smile to his face.

“Please do!” he said, “I want to hear all about your adventures!” Lilian beamed at him and said goodbye. A minute later she and Doran were standing outside the big Stave doors.

“I suppose I should find somewhere to stay tonight,” said Doran, “and something to eat. And I should probably check on caramel too.” Lilian chuckled.

“Well that’s handy,” she replied. Doran looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh? How come?”

“Because we’re going to the Fox & Octopus and you can do all of those things there.”

Lilian was delighted to see that the Fox & Octopus had not changed. She did have to duck to walk in through the front door now and there were a couple of new paintings on the walls but apart from that, everything was the same. Right down to which locals were sitting in which seats. A few heads turned to look as she and Doran walked in but everyone smiled when they recognised Polly and Edward’s daughter. Within a few moments she was surrounded by family friends all asking about her travels and for news of the wider world.

“Is it true you were employed at the palace?”

“I heard you visited Zandt, I have a cousin there, did you meet him?”

“Gosh you’re tall!”

“Is that your horse in the stable?”

Every new round of questions was met with a new round of drinks and pretty soon Lilian was regaling the crowd with tales of hidden forest villages, corrupt politicians and secret desert temples. Her mum and dad arrived around dinner time and treated Lilian and Doran to one of Xander’s famous pies. All eyes were on Doran as he took his first bite. A pregnant pause fell across the inn as he chewed followed quickly by a cheer as his face lit up with delight. It was one thing for a tourist from the city to like the dish, but for a world traveller to enjoy it reaffirmed to the locals that Benlunar truly was the greatest town in Alicium. After the sun had set someone brought out their old squeezebox and the whole inn sang old songs. Doran even taught them a new one about a particularly oblivious milkmaid which had the room roaring with laughter at the verses and joining in with every chorus.

Lilian’s cheeks ached with smiling and at one point she laughed so much at one of Liny’s jokes that she genuinely feared she could not breathe. The funniest thing though was seeing a place she’d known her whole life in a brand new light. The townsfolk knew her but they were also meeting her again. Not as a child, but as a friend. She saw some of her old classmates and she barely recognised them. Two years barely changes a grown up, but it transforms a child.

Eventually Liny decided that it was time for everyone to go home and the townsfolk spilled onto the street. Lilian watched a few of the older folk wobble into the darkness before turning downhill and heading home. As she trod the old cobbles she felt her mother’s hand slip into hers. Lilian turned to look into her mother’s smiling eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” Lilian beamed.

“Me too mama.” Then she felt her father’s large arm drape over her shoulders and the Lausanne family stumbled home in simple bliss.

The next morning was a slow one. Lilian was woken up by Fritha licking her face, asking to be let out. Lilian packed away her travel bags, storing any unwanted items under her bed and went to her old wardrobe to see if any of her old clothes would still fit her. Thankfully she was able to find a blue sack dress and some yellow wool stockings that didn’t have too many moth holes. She threw on a knitted hat to protect her head from the early morning chill and she was ready.

They walked down to the river and Lilian saw the season’s first few icicles forming under the rocks near the water. Winter was on its way and Lilian was excited to see it. Winter in the city had been a miserable affair but here in Benlunar it was always a magical time. Fritha seemed happy to be back in her old stomping ground as she picked her way in and around the water. Lilian recalled finding her fur just near here with Kilde. She smiled at the memory which was nice. It had been a long time since she’d remembered Kilde with a smile.

They were nearly at the point where the river entered the forest when Lilian lost sight of the feinhound. She’d been lost in a memory and had gotten distracted. She looked around but couldn’t see any sign of Fritha. This was not particularly unusual for a beast that could blend seamlessly into her surroundings but Lilian was considering turning back and wanted to make sure Fritha was following her. She was milliseconds away from calling out her name when she heard the voices. Her fighter’s instincts engaged and Lilian felt her body instinctively duck low towards the rocks of the river bank. She’d come to trust these reactions, even if she herself was unaware of what was causing them. She listened out to see if she recognised the speakers but she couldn’t place them. No distinctive laughs, no familiar vocal tones. She picked up a rock and held it softly between her thumb and forefinger. With well practised procedure she closed her eyes and brought her breathing under control. The world grew dark and slowly the sounds of birdsong and the rustling of the wind through branches grew louder. The little trickle of the river grew to a rushing roar, too loud to allow her to focus on the distant voices. She let some golden light into the rock in her fingers and waited for it to take on the look and feel of the object, then she let it back into herself slowly and controlled the rush of energy with focus and breath. Ever since she got the tattoo in Zandt Gloaming had been a painful experience but she had practised a lot in her time on the road and it was almost back to feeling as natural as it had been before her trip to the desert city. She had used the tattoo a few times, but never during the day. The presence of the moon made it much easier to control and since it involved breaking through a substantial pain barrier, she found it easier to practise traditional gloaming, saving the tattoo for emergencies.

A moment later she opened her eyes and looked down at her hands to check that it had worked. Sure enough she looked straight through her palms and down onto the stones beneath her feet. The voices had gotten closer by now and so she decided to keep still and low to the ground, hoping to catch sight of whoever it was this far down the river, this early in the morning.

Presently two figures appeared in the middle distance picking their way through the trees, appearing intermittently in the gaps between the tree trunks. They wore dark blue cloaks, hoods down and they were close enough for Lilian to hear.

“It looks like moss but it’s technically a grass. The river is just here so we should find some,” said the shorter of the two to her companion. They both had dark skin and the one who spoke had bright and curious eyes. Her companion on the other hand wore a grim expression, as if she had just stepped in something she would have rather avoided.

“And you needed both of us for this task because…?” the unfinished question wreaked of disdain.

“Oh hush sister, will it kill you to actually enjoy one of the places we visit?” The taller woman narrowed her eyes. Her hair was in tight braids, which made her scowl look even more pronounced.

“I enjoy things in my own way.” Suddenly a large black bird dropped from the forest canopy. It landed a little ways upstream and began pecking at the ground. It drew the attention of the two women.

“Ah! Thank you Spinel! A perfect batch.” The shorter woman, who Lilian could see wore a colourful red and yellow smock under her cloak skipped over to where the bird was pecking and began picking tufts out of the ground. Lilian watched her work and wondered how she’d managed to train the bird so effectively. The bird itself was a beautiful thing, large and dark with patches of deep blue in its feathers that caught the light as it hopped around. It looked like a crow but was bigger than any crow she’d ever seen.

It didn’t take the shorter woman long to gather the materials she needed and although Lilian was growing tired, she wanted to keep watching them while her energy lasted. She knew by now that she recognised them as two of the three women who had been with Safe Fenric at the Stave the day before. If Doran was right and these visitors did have malicious intent then she wanted evidence of it before accusing them of anything. So far picking riverside herbs and befriending birds was not anything she could bring to the town’s attention.

After a few minutes and a bit more bickering, the two women, who were apparently sisters, left the river bank and started heading north. The crow flew up into the trees and Lilian quickly lost sight of it, but she kept the sisters well within her vision. She followed them at a safe distance, never daring to discard her invisible form, and as she had suspected they led her all the way back up the mountain to the flat paddock on the west side of Benlunar. Lilian stuck to the tree line and watched as the two sisters and their bird walked towards their caravan. The carts were just as Brother Thomas had described them. One was painted a bright yellow with blue window frames and little flower designs along the bottom edges. It was covered by a blue roof which was clearly meant to look like a clear sky. The other was all green and had patches of blue which looked like lakes in a field. The horses were nearby, large shaggy looking things with huge tufts of fur around their hoofs. They were picking at some grass but looked up when they noticed the women approaching. The arrival also triggered movement from inside the yellow caravan. Safe Fenric, cloaked in yellow, emerged from the back door and walked the few steps down onto the field. He smiled as they approached and Lilian could see his green eyes sparkle in the sunshine all the way from where she was hiding. With his hood down she could see his face more clearly now. He had thinning brown hair with large patches of grey in it, he was quite tall and stout which made him look as if he might be quite strong. Lilian was reminded of Jacob the blacksmith and how his body had been shaped from a lifetime of lifting and carrying. He smiled when he saw the sisters and greeted them cheerily. Lilian closed her eyes and stretched her hearing out beyond its natural realm. She heard the flapping wings of the large bird as it landed on top of one of the caravans. She heard the footsteps of the sisters and the rustling of cloaks as they embraced Sage Fenric.

“Good morning Hematite, Tourmaline. And hello Spinel. I trust your trip to the river was a success?” Lilian could hear his voice as clearly as if he was next to her. It was a warm and jubilant voice, thick like honey and deep as a well.

“It was most successful Sage Fenric. Successful and beautiful. Even Tourmaline’s mood could not darken the sunshine.” Lilian heard the sage chuckle.

“Good, good. And what’s this? I see you managed to pick up more than just Sphagnum on your journey.”

“What do you mean?” asked the sister called Tourmaline. Sage Fenric’s response made Lilian’s blood run cold.

“You were followed.”