Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XIII. A Summons

The night passed restlessly, with Alia curled up against her mother in the small bed. There was nowhere else to sleep in the tiny cottage, and though it kept her warm, Alia was frequently reminded of Merle's slim, bony frame. Soon enough, it was dawn, and Alia dimly surfaced from restless dreams long enough to notice her mother slipping out of bed and leaving. She spread out with a quiet sigh, savoring the extra room, and then all was quiet until a light, insistent tapping came at the door.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Blearily, Alia sat up, struggling out from under the blankets. Warm light came through the window, dimly illuminating the room, but it could have been anywhere from early morning to mid-afternoon. The insistent tapping continued, and she staggered over to the door, still in her nightgown, with her brown waves springing all over the place from her mussed braid. She reached for the handle and then froze. Oh Gods. Caddock had said Gavin would come up with a plan, right? What if one of the Heroes was at her door? What if all of them were?

She spun frantically over to her small bundle, forgotten on the unfinished wood table, and rummaged through to find her dress. The brown was on top—that would do. Moving faster than she could ever remember doing before, Alia threw off the nightgown, feeling oddly exposed, and stepped into the underdress and pulled on the brown overpiece. Her fingers seemed clumsier than usual on the laces, but she yanked them tight quickly and tore the braid out of her hair. She was going to rebraid it, but just then, the tapping escalated into a loud, sharp rapping.

"Alia, daughter of Merle the Baker?" A loud, authoritative tone boomed inside, and Alia froze. It wasn't a voice she recognized

Desperate, she just ran a quick hand through her hair, trying vainly to smooth it, and swung the door open, blinking in the sudden bright light.

Two middle aged men stood before her, one with a paunch swelling out the midsection of his jerkin, and the other taller with a beard. "Are you Alia?" the taller one asked.

Alia nodded uncertainly, raising a hand to shade her eyes.

"You are called before the Council to face judgment. You will accompany us immediately."

The blood left her face in a rush, and she felt her eyes widen. "The Council?" Her voice sounded very small, almost squeaky.

The heavier one gestured to her bare feet, forgotten in her whirlwind dressing. "Yes. We'll give you a moment to finish getting dressed."

"Thank you," she responded instinctively. Is that really the sort of thing you thank someone for?

Her shoes had been placed neatly right next to the bed, and it took only a moment to have them on and laced up. Even that action seemed slightly surreal to Alia, like someone else might have been doing it. Feeling very uncomfortable, Alia walked to the doorway, where the two men still stood. "Um..." she said, 'could I?" She gestured at the privy that sat off behind the houses, too embarrassed to speak of what she needed.

Both men nodded quickly, looking equally awkward, and Alia felt briefly comforted by that sign of humanity. Time stretched out in the small wooden privy shack, not helped by her nervous bladder, but then suddenly things were rushing by again and she was walking behind the two guards—because surely, that is what they were—on the path toward the Commons.

Beldara main seemed preternaturally still in the mid-morning light. There were people out running errands and carrying out their normal day-to-day behaviors, but somehow it all just seemed quiet. Or maybe that was all in Alia's head. Her escorts walked quickly, feet tapping against the cobblestones as they passed the Commons and continued on toward the southeast quadrant of Beldara. Alia's pale eyes dragged over her surroundings as they moved, taking it all in like she'd never seen it before. The Council building looked especially foreign. It was built of large, smooth hewn blocks of sandy golden stone, towering up above the surrounding buildings, and Alia was struck by its exact opposite appearance to the Librum. Here, no ivy grew up the walls, the stone was clean and golden, not gray and aged and rough, and its towering heights seemed impractical compared to the Librum's squat structure.