Auguries of Dawn

Oliveah was currently nestled in her favorite spot on her family’s sprawling lands. Next to a large, leafy tree jutted a generous outcropping of earth, resting above a shallow valley and providing a spectacular view of much of the Oslund vineyard. The sight of the dawn was also particularly beautiful—if not downright magical—from this position, and it was this she waited for now. It was a sight she’d missed greatly while traveling about Dhanen’Mar with her troupe.

  It was actually thoughts of her troupe—at least in part—that had kept her restless much of the night, prompting her to finally relinquish the idea of sleep and make her way here, about a quarter-league distant from the main house. She had, just the day before, received her second message from her troupe-master, Moriss, by way of carrier-crow. His first, arriving last week, had relayed the terrible news concerning what had occurred to three of her troupe-mates in the streets of Tyrell during the final night of Ardin’s Pride. Adding this to the broken bones suffered by two others during the brawl at the Tulan ranch, it was clear the Moriss Tipley Troupe had been dealt a mighty blow that night. She could only be grateful that at least no one had been killed.

  Moriss’s second letter had apprised her of the fact that while he was currently still in Coeo, the home city of Healing, all performers were now mended and healthy, and all would be departing together the next morning. Oliveah had been astounded to hear that even the story-teller’s severed tongue had somehow been healed, but for the most part she simply felt relieved. Furthermore, Moriss now expected all members of his troupe to reconvene in the selected town on the First-day of summer’s fourth week. As it was now Ninth-day of the third week, Oliveah had only a few days left before she would need to depart to make the appointed meeting time.

  And a part of her truly did not wish to go.

  The past week and a half here at the vineyard had been wonderful, even more so than she’d anticipated. She’d had plenty of time to catch up with her mother and father, regaling them with countless tales of her journeys all across Dhanen’Mar this past year; time to sit upon the banks of the nearby lake for hours with her brother Deakin, their fishing poles often lying forgotten beside them as they simply talked and talked; and there had even been a short trip through a string of nearby towns with her sister Navalee, their only agenda having been to shop. It was, so far, the most pleasant vacation she could have imagined. And she was not yet ready to see it end.

  Of course, there had also been much time spent with Taleb and Nathon— the one and only area to have marred the perfection of the past many days. The reason was because she still hadn’t come to any conclusions regarding the two of them. When she was with Nathon, she felt certain it was him she would choose. But then, when with Taleb, it was he she would imagine herself being with for the rest of her days. And being in the presence of both of them together just left her feeling so confused, as well as guilty, that she now looked for excuses to avoid any such situations. It was not fair to them, what she was doing, but knowing this didn’t help make the matter any clearer; in fact, it only seemed to worsen it.

  They were both waiting on her, she knew. With their terms of slavery now only weeks from seeing completion, leaving them free men, it was only obvious both would now be expecting her decision. And indeed, every time she’d approached either in the last week, it seemed they’d been expecting something more from her conversation than what she’d offered. They wanted an answer—any answer—and she imagined they both must be growing incredibly frustrated with her ongoing silence on the matter.

  She’d been hoping for Madi to lay clear her path. In fact, after first discovering that both Nathon and Taleb had come to Tyrell to act as escort to her sister and brother, Oliveah had been certain her indecision was about to come to an end. For if anyone could help her in this task, who better than a Savannon diviner? As it turned out, however, Madi had ultimately made the situation even more perplexing.

  Regarding Taleb, she had foretold something extremely interesting—as well as worrying.

  “He has a destiny, Oliveah, and whatever this destiny is, it will take precedence over everything. Should you choose to put him first in your heart, you cannot expect the same in return. For you will not receive it.”

  Oliveah knew Taleb planned to leave the vineyard as soon as he was free of his slave duties. This was something he’d been very open about with her, knowing it was likely to affect her decision. She had appreciated his candor, but hadn’t been bothered by his plans to journey south to Lutarre Keep, home of the warlords. In fact, since she planned to continue on with her troupe for another year or two, she figured this would be a wonderful opportunity for him to discover whatever Destiny had in store for him, before they eventually decided to settle, should she choose him.

  But she had never actually considered the possibility that Destiny did have such plans for him. Madi hadn’t given her any details—although whether this was because she didn’t have them, or simply because she wouldn’t reveal them, Oliveah didn’t know—but she had made it extremely clear that whatever Taleb’s role in the world, it could not be avoided. And its importance to him would be paramount.

  This had left Oliveah confused and bewildered, as well as utterly frustrated over the fact that she knew nothing of what lay in store for him. It also left her feeling more than a little afraid.

  What the diviner had to say regarding Nathon hadn’t made the situation any easier.

  “He will give to you whatever you need of him, Oliveah—regardless of the consequences.”

  Although clearly meant to sound as an encouragement in Nathon’s favor, Oliveah was well aware of Madi’s proclivity to phrase her words with the utmost deliberation when speaking of things she’d divined. Her speech therefore took on a rather dark tone when Oliveah played it back through her mind.

  More confused than ever, she’d asked her friend no more questions.

  All the days since hadn’t allowed her to glean any further clarity on these matters, either, nor had she spoken a word of Madi’s insights to either Taleb or Nathon—or to anyone else. Not even to her parents, whom she’d had a very lengthy discussion with just the night before. Apparently, they too had begun to grow concerned over her lack of a decision, inviting her to their private chambers to ask if they could be of any assistance. It was clear they’d been picking up on her ever-mounting distress, and wished to help however possible.

  But although well-intentioned, they too had only made matters worse.

  First, they had been certain to reassure her that they would be happy to welcome either of the two men into the family. Oliveah had already been well aware of this, as both Taleb and Nathon were already more or less treated as members of such.

  They had then gone on to remind her—as though she could have forgotten—that Nathon had already requested to remain at the vineyard as the official master-at-arms once his term finished. Convenient, should she wish to soon retire and begin a family—but unfair to expect him to wait if she instead planned on several more years on the road with her troupe. Evidently, her parents had also been picking up on her hesitation to leave the vineyard and rejoin her troupe-mates for another year of journeying across Dhanen’Mar.

  On the other hand, they had gone on, if she did wish to pursue her vocation, certainly Taleb would be more than willing to accompany her and her troupe, enjoying the freedom he’d been denied this past decade.

  It was then Oliveah realized Taleb had not revealed to her parents his intention to travel to the warlord’s keep. She briefly pondered upon the reason for this secrecy, and found no likely answer. But, respecting his privacy on the matter, she spoke nothing of it.

  It had then become incredibly clear to her what her parents were attempting. Rather than tackling the impossible decision of choosing one or the other, they were simply trying to make her see the matter in relation to what her own desires were, and which of the two would make a better fit of them. She appreciated their efforts, but this poi
nt of view did not help her—for no matter what her intentions, she did not wish for her head to make this decision, but rather her heart. She simply could not allow it to be any other way.

  But the conversation had raised another interesting point. If she chose Taleb, how would she ever be able to return to the vineyard and face Nathon? Alternatively, if she decided to stay upon the vineyard with Nathon, would she ever see Taleb again? Truly, she could not imagine either of them no longer being in her life.

  She’d then commanded herself to stop being selfish and look at the matter from their perspective. Wanting to wince while doing so, she wondered why the both of them hadn’t simply given up on her by this time—she would be hard-pressed to blame them if they did, and in any case, she found it unlikely either would have any trouble finding a woman willing to return their affection.

  Sighing, she’d voiced none of this to her parents, simply thanking them for their counsel and promising to consider all they’d said. She’d left the encounter attempting to discern which way their own personal hopes lay, shaking her head ruefully at the conclusions she drew.

  Her father, she was quite certain, was slightly more in Nathon’s favor, and the reason for this wasn’t complicated. Not only did Nathon’s love for the vineyard run nearly as deep as Lord Ean’s own, evidenced first by choosing Harvest and then by asking to stay on once free of his slave-term, he had more than proven his devotion to not only the lands, but to the family. Also, choosing Nathon would see Oliveah back home, giving reason for the entire family to all once again share the same roof—a circumstance that would no doubt please her father greatly.

  Her mother, on the other hand, was more than likely secretly wishing for her to choose Taleb. Oliveah had little trouble in figuring this, as she and her mother were very much alike, and shared a very similar thought-process. Oliveah’s mother, Lyllyn, was also born to the Arts, and had spent several years of her youth much as Oliveah was now, a singer in one of the country’s most prestigious troupes. It had not been long before her name was known in every corner of Dhanen’Mar, her talent and passion for the song nearly unparalleled. But she had given it all up while still young, very near to Oliveah’s age now, in fact, when she’d met and been wooed by Ean.

  Oliveah knew her mother had never regretted the decision to leave her profession to marry and begin a family—rarely did she encounter a couple so in love as her parents—but she often thought her mother regretted the timing of it. One more year, maybe two, and perhaps she’d have grown weary of the performer’s life, irritated at the constant travel and the sight of new faces in every town and city. But now, she would never know—and it was obvious from the way she listened to Oliveah’s own tales that she did, at times, miss it greatly.

  Lyllyn would want Oliveah to stay on as a performer until she grew to hate it, whether this took one more year or twenty. For only this way would she never wonder—What if I’d stayed but one more year? Week? Day?—nor miss it, nor harbor regrets. And she knew Oliveah had not yet reached this point in her professional career.

  But Taleb would be free—and, as far as Lyllyn incorrectly presumed, willing—to accompany her along her travels. By choosing him, Oliveah could enjoy all that she loved of her profession, as well as have her husband near. And it did seem a very tempting proposition. But it was not fact.

  Whether she chose him or not, Oliveah knew that Taleb would not be willing to do this. Destiny was calling him, and he fully meant to heed its voice—even if he had no thoughts on where it might lead him to. And this realization scared her, no matter how much she hated to admit it; whatever Taleb’s destiny, she was afraid it would bring him into danger.

  And so, in the end, the conversation with her parents left her more confused than ever before, as well as having increased all the worry and guilt she’d been harboring these past many days.

  Pulling free from her thoughts, Oliveah now sighed and gazed out over the still-darkened lands below her. To make the appointed meeting time with the rest of her troupe, she would have only four more days here within the vineyard before needing to depart. Four more days to make the decision that would affect the rest of her life. She both dreaded and longed for the conclusion of the week.

  The faintest rays of dawn were just beginning to pierce the darkness now, and Oliveah’s hand dropped down to the small, golden lyre at her side. Her beloved harp, a gift from her parents when she’d been accepted into her troupe seven years ago, had been smashed during the brawl at the Tulan estate. Reavis claimed he’s risked life and limb to save it, but hadn’t been able to get to it in time. Oliveah mourned its loss, but accepted it as a casualty of the madness of that night. Her father had promised to have a replacement for her before she left to rejoin her troupe.

  That was, if she even left at all. She was growing more and more convinced that if she did in fact choose Nathon, she would not be departing from the vineyard anytime soon.

  The lyre had been her mother’s, and given to her on her twelfth birthing-day. It was as familiar to her hands as her own skin, and as she mindlessly strummed it, humming, the dawn began to break all about her.

  It was a truly glorious sight. It was said Dhanen’Mar had been gifted with the most beautiful sunrises in the world, and, watching it now, Oliveah saw no reason to doubt the claim. To shades of pinks and purples and yellows was the sky before her turning, the stars overhead just fading into their daytime rest. It was enough to take one’s breath away.

  Spellbound, she barely registered the sound now coming to her ears, realizing it for the noise of flapping wings just before she saw them. At first, she thought them owls, and her breath caught quickly in fear. Further scrutiny, however, revealed them not to be this most feared harbinger of death, but rather a trio of ospreys. The three were flying east, directly into the rays of the rising sun, which in and of itself was curious. The sole nearby lake lay to the north, the only watery habitat in this area the ospreys used for nesting. Still staring after them, Oliveah abruptly realized the augury now playing out before her.

  Ospreys flying into dusk foretold a warning against offending royalty, but their movement into the dawn spoke only the opposite. The beholder of such a sight could now expect great royal favor to come to them, with the number of ospreys telling how many times this favor would be bestowed upon them throughout their lifetime.

  Oliveah stared after them, mesmerized. Royal favor? Three times, no less?

  She couldn’t even begin to imagine the specifics of how this would come to pass. Indeed, she’d never before even exchanged words with King DeSiva, nor his son, Prince Luken, although she’d glimpsed both at numerous ceremonies during her youth. Her father had taken audience with the king several times, though, and had claimed after each that the king was becoming more and more nonsensical. Rumors of King DeSiva’s growing madness was not uncommon talk about Dhanen’Mar, particularly over recent years.

  Oliveah leapt to her feet, feeling an overwhelming urge to compose a letter to Madi about this. While she would have preferred an augury to aid her with the decision she was presently struggling with, the one she had received instead was no doubt intriguing. Perhaps Madi could consult one of her divining tools and glean further details. Considering their troupe was set to be in the king’s own city of Justice, Aralexia, the final week of summer, she was then forced to wonder if there might be some connection.

  It might also be prudent to mention in her note, she further speculated, that there now appeared to be a ghost haunting the Oslund vineyard. This had apparently begun just two days ago, with the mysterious and repetitious ringing of the welcome bell, before carrying on into the property. Several claimed to have heard strange noises going on all throughout the day and night on the upper floors of the family house, and then of finding nothing at investigating their source. Oliveah wasn’t certain if she believed the ghost theory, but she figured she might as well mention it to Madi nonetheless, simply on the chance her fri
end could offer some further insight.

  Perhaps Sabian Reif would be a better person to ask, she then caught herself thinking. Quickly, she turned her mind from this path, still finding the truth of Sabian very disquieting. No doubt he had saved her brother’s life that night in Tyrell, but the how of it was not something she allowed herself to dwell on.

  She bent to collect her lyre and her oil lantern and then hurriedly retreated from the outcropping, starting back to the main house at a quick pace. She continued to ponder upon the possible meaning of the ospreys as she went, debating if perhaps a musical performance before the king could explain it. It was entirely possible his majesty would request audience with the troupe who’d opened the Ardin’s Pride festival this year, a fact which again brought her back to her looming appearance in Aralexia. She was suddenly both nervous and excited to arrive in the home city of Justice at the end of the summer.

  She was jogging by the time she drew near to the modest castle that was her family home, skirting along the northern wall toward the front when she rounded the corner and suddenly felt her body slam into a very solid but unseen resistance. With a startled shout she pitched to the ground, dropping both her lyre and her lantern as she landed forcefully on her backside. She simply sat there for a moment, stunned, before blinking and looking about in bewilderment.

  She saw nothing that could have caused her abrupt fall. Even worse, both Taleb and Nathon, as well as her father, were only about ten paces away, all turned and watching her.

  “Are you all right, Oliveah?” Nathon asked, as all three started toward her.

  “I think so,” she replied, shifting experimentally and feeling nothing amiss, besides a possibly bruised backside.

  Nathon reached her and bent to clasp her arm, pulling her up. “And I’d always considered you graceful,” he said, smiling slightly.

  “This had nothing to do with grace, or my possible lack thereof,” she told him, accepting the lyre Taleb retrieved from the ground and handed to her. With a quick glance, she determined it unharmed.

  “Her clumsiness is inherited from her mother,” Lord Ean said now, pausing before her with a grin. “The Patrons know I adore the woman, but she can scarcely get through a single meal without breaking or dropping something.”

  “I believe Deakin has inherited that particular trait as well,” Taleb added dryly. “I hesitate to instruct him in swordplay even with wooden blades, too afraid he may trip and impale himself.”

  All three were now chuckling, clearly oblivious to Oliveah’s steely-eyed gaze taking them in.

  “If you are all about finished,” she snapped, instantly wiping the smiles from their faces, “I didn’t trip. I hit something.”

  Her statement appeared to perplex them, which she supposed was understandable.

  “We all saw you fall, Oliveah,” her father said, now taking her in seriously. “There was nothing in your path. Surely you just slipped on the grass.”

  “I’m telling you, I ran into something,” she insisted.

  “Maybe it was the ghost,” Taleb suggested, grinning.

  Nathon groaned. “Don’t you start with that nonsense now,” he said. “I’ve received six reports of alleged disturbances, all credited to this ghost, over the past two days, and I don’t want to hear any more. The very idea is ridiculous.”

  “Six?” Taleb repeated. “I’ve received eight. Busy little spirit, isn’t it?”

  Nathon rolled his eyes.

  Lord Ean took them both in. “Ghost or not, there’s clearly some sort of disturbance going on about the grounds. Do either of you have any other theories?”

  “Perhaps a vandal or thief has somehow gotten onto the property,” Nathon said, his eyes narrowing. “I performed a perimeter sweep yesterday, and found all as it should be, but perhaps I should take another look just to be certain.”

  Lord Ean nodded. “The two of you can see to that now. I will inform my children that there will be no more wandering about the grounds without an escort until this business is sorted out. That means you as well, Oliveah,” he added, looking to her.

  She frowned, but said nothing.

  “I actually have another suggestion, should Nathon and I find no physical evidence of invasion,” Taleb then said.

  “Go ahead,” Ean nodded.

  “One of the Reifs, Sabian by name, is known to have the ability to see and speak with ghosts,” he said. “You might therefore consider the benefits of extending a supper invitation to Lord Guerin and his nephew.”

  Lord Ean continued nodding. “I am actually aware of young Sabian and his—talents. A very wise idea, Taleb. I will see to sending a crow to Guerin straight away.”

  Oliveah exchanged a silent glance with Taleb. Unlike Nathon, who’d had no first-hand proof of Sabian’s gift, no longer did either of them hold any further doubts regarding the existence of spirits. Of course, whether one happened to presently be haunting the Oslund vineyard remained a matter of some debate, but at least they now had a plan in place to deal with it if so. She gave him a small smile.

  “Report any findings to me immediately,” her father was now instructing the two men. “Whether criminal or ghost, I want this resolved quickly.” He paused to then give his head a quick and exasperated shake. “Half the workers are jumping at their own shadows, and this will only grow worse if we do not soon find an explanation. Not a word to anyone regarding Oliveah’s . . . fall,” he ordered.

  Nathon and Taleb nodded and hurried off, and Oliveah watched after them for a moment before turning back to her father.

  “To which side are you leaning?” she asked him bluntly. “Interloper or spirit?”

  Lord Ean gave a baffled shrug in reply. “I can see either theory as possible. But no matter,” he went on, turning and gesturing for her to follow him toward the castle. “I am certain that if Taleb and Nathon don’t get to the truth of the matter today, Sabian Reif soon will.”

  Chapter 18