Anais of Brightshire

Chapter 7

"My father asked me to start attending his council sessions," Cedric said as we pulled our sleds to the top of the snow-covered hill.  "What are they like?"

"Tiresome."  I shrugged.  "I sit in a corner taking notes.  I don't say anything."

At Thellium's request, I had been attending the council sessions to record notes for the last few weeks.  He had traveled north to Barriershire, and he thought it best to have an impartial observer update the archives.

"I don't really want to go.  What is my father like in the meetings?"

"He yells a lot.  I don't know why he asks for opinions if he intends to disagree with everything."

"That's my father."  Cedric rolled his eyes.

"Thomas doesn't speak much.  I keep expecting him to stand up and take charge.  Doesn't he become Lord Seve when he turns eighteen?  That must be fairly soon."

"One year, until Thomas is of age.  Thomas has always been internal.  It doesn't surprise me that he keeps quiet in council sessions."  Cedric paused.  "Anais, do you know why Thellium is visiting Barriershire?"

"He wouldn't tell me," I answered.

"Hmm, that's curious.  He's been traveling a lot."

We both took one more run in our sleds down the snowy hill.  I tumbled to the ground at the bottom, and the flakes of snow that covered my hair and clothes melted as we walked back to the Great House.

Cedric, Thomas and I spent the three hours of the next council session in silence, me with a quill in hand, while the other men at the table discussed next season's crops, crop rotation strategies, crop fertilizers, the slaughtering and smoking of pigs, sheep and cows, and taxes.  I struggled to keep my eyes open.

Sister Sebella stood and said, "I would like to reopen the discussion of the construction of an abbey for the people of Brightshire."  Sister Sebella was visiting Brightshire, and had insisted on being granted an audience at the council session.

"No," Lord Seve roared.  "No abbey will be constructed in Brightshire.  The sisters are nothing but trouble.  I tolerate you, as I tolerate Thellium, but I will not relinquish taxes to support an abbey."

Sister Sebella's jaw clenched as she sat back down.

A squire from the Blumstead farming district stood.  "Have there been any more unexplained deaths?" he asked.

Moricutt, Brightshire's sheriff, stood.  "Three this month."

Lord Seve frowned.  "At least the count is down."

The squire stayed on his feet and asked, "Is there still no response from the West?  Did you report that you suspect that furies are rising in the Southlands?"

Lord Seve sighed.  "I send word each month to my ambassador, and each month he sends word back that the western lords discount our suspicions.  The soldiers who hail from our district are returning, but the majority of the army will remain in the West."

"Lord Seve, it may be best if you visit court yourself to voice our concerns," the squire suggested.

"Perhaps, but I do not intend to leave Brightshire in these dark times."

"Lord Seve, I believe it would be useful to at least request that the remaining mages return to determine if these deaths are truly the result of furies," the squire continued.  "And if the worst case is true, and the furies are not just wandering but mobilized, we need the army and support from the mage community.  We cannot stand alone."