Glynn Books

The afternoon sun beamed in through the open window spilling golden light onto Jesipam’s assignment papers.  She studied later than usual on her reading assignments.  She hoped to impress Letren with her mastery of the new characters he’d taught her that morning.  In truth, she also hoped to avoid Keetse’s taunts 

Jesipam couldn’t see the harvesters with their scythes, but she heard their rhythmic movements, and smelled the scent of new-cut hay on the breeze. 

Soltre lifted his head into the wind and sniffed.  “They’d better make quick work of that hayfield.  I smell a storm brewing,” he remarked.

Jesipam looked up from her assignment and sniffed too.  Between breezes, the air reminded her of the baths at her old Children’s Court - warm and moist.  However, the stiff gusts of wind did feel like heralds of a storm.  Maybe that’s why I feel so jangled! But a quiet voice inside her said: There is more than a rain storm coming.

A cry rang out from one of the watch towers.  “Troops approaching!”

“Can you see their ensign?” another, closer watchman called.

“It’s Blue House, sir!”

Jesipam heard the closer watchman curse, then shout, “Sound the alarm!  Bring in the field workers!  Call out the guard!”

A bell clanged in the front tower.  The sound of harvesting stopped.  The air filled the sound of murmurs, shouts, and the pounding of running feet.  Jesipam dragged a chair over to the window in an effort to see over the courtyard wall to the action below.  Even standing on the chair on tiptoe, the high walls obscured her view of all but the top of the outer wall.  There, archers and uniformed guardsmen swarmed and scurried – quarreling over the best vantage points.

Jesipam heard the sound of running feet behind her and turned to see a young man in a guard’s uniform burst in the door.  “Have you seen Lord Red House?” He panted.

“Last I heard, he was in his receiving room,” Soltre replied.  The guard nodded his thanks and dashed back down the hall.  Soltre drew in a breath and lifted his eyebrows.  “Well, it looks as though we have a little excitement coming our way!”

Jesipam shivered.  “Do you think that Blue House is really going to attack us?”  Visions of daggers filled her mind.  She imagined herself and her sister dragged away in chains and locked in a dark cell to die. 

Soltre shook his head.  “I don’t know.  This castle is well fortified.  Your father knows that.  He grew up here, and I can only suppose that he is the one who sent the troops.  Sometimes people position soldiers more to give themselves leverage in negotiations than to provoke a fight.  That may be what your father is doing.”

“Negotiations?”  Jesipam had heard the word before but wasn’t certain what it meant.

“I suspect that your father wants something from your uncle that he doesn’t think your uncle is willing to give him.  He marches his troops over here to tell your uncle, ‘You talk this out with me or I’ll attack – hoping for a talk rather than a fight.”

Jesipam suspected what her father wanted, and hoped desperately that her uncle wouldn’t hand her and her sister over to him. 

She heard the beating of drums, many booted feet stomping together in rhythm, and horse’s hooves clattering on pavement stone.  She sat on the edge of her seat, listening until the sounds faded as Red House troops left the castle to meet the Blue House troops.

“Close the gate!” she heard a tower-guard cry.  The groan of the huge hinges of the main gate echoed through the castle, then the booming clang of the lock rang out.  She remembered those front gates – how large and solid and heavy they looked the evening she first arrived.

She also remembered how easily the Stillen climbed them.  The groom who brought them had said something about there being more Stillens at Blue House than Red House.  Jesipam imagined some Stillen with a knife climbing over the wall to kill her and Lilitram.  The thought made her shiver.  She shook her head to clear the image from her mind, and settled down to listen for more. 

She endured a long silence before a horn sounded and a murmur rose from below.  Jesipam sprang up and tried to climb onto the table to get a better look, but Soltre stopped her.

Keetse and A’Lomre pelted into the room.  “Did you see it?  Did you see it?” they asked.

Jesipam shook her head.  “We heard things, but we didn’t see anything.”

A’Lomre’s face glowed with excitement. “We went up to the tower when the alarm bell sounded.  We saw everything!”

Keetse looked more thoughtful and awe-struck.  “It’s just like in the old ballads! Each side sent somebody to talk in the middle of the field.  Someone from Blue House is now riding in toward the castle under Red house escort.  I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s your father!”

Jesipam nodded. She tried not to show how frightened she felt.  Keetse won’t understand.  His father doesn’t want him dead!

“Come on down to my father’s receiving room.  I’m sure that’s where they are taking him!”  Keetse gestured for Jesipam to follow.  Jesipam followed with reluctance.  She desperately wanted to watch the next events unfold, but she didn’t want her father to see her.  She was afraid that her cousins would force a confrontation.  She hesitated.

Keetse frowned.  “Aren’t you coming?  Don’t you want to watch?”

“I just…”  What? What can I tell him?

Keetse threw up his hands in disgust.  “Sometimes I just can’t believe how stupid you are!  I don’t know why I even bothered to come down and tell you about this.  Stupid girl!”

“Yeah, stupid girl!” A’Lomre added.  “Let’s go!”  He turned to the hallway, grabbing Keetse’s arm to pull him along.

Keetse glared at Jesipam for a moment more, and then looked away.  “Yes, let’s go!”  He turned and started running down the hallway with his brother.

Jesipam swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath.  “I’m coming with you!”  She ran after them.  Keetse glanced back at her.  His smug grin made her so angry that she almost turned around and went back.  She immediately discarded the idea though.  It would only make her look worse in their eyes if she left.  Besides, she really needed to know what her father wanted!

She followed her cousins down the corridors and stairs leading to her Uncle’s receiving room.  Through an open door, she saw the black and white pillars of the great hall.  She could hear her footsteps echoing off the walls in that expansive space.  Her cousins ducked in through the tall dark wood door on the right side of the corridor – just before the door to the great hall.

Jesipam had visited her uncle’s receiving room several times before.  She remembered this windowless room.  She looked up at the ceiling.  Its ornate design and sheer height made her dizzy.  Massive furnishings dominated by a long, imposing, table running down the center of the room, created a feeling of overwhelming power.  She remembered her uncle telling her that the room’s thick walls and doors and heavy carpeting had been designed to discourage eavesdroppers.  She hoped that at least three eavesdroppers wouldn’t be discouraged today!

Keetse glanced around.  “I don’t think they’ll let us stay if they see us.”  She watched her cousin tap a finger against his lips as he pondered the situation.  He peered under the table.  “Plenty of room here...”  He bounded back out to the corridor and scrutinized the table through the doorway – cocking his head from side to side.  He nodded in response to some inner question.  .”  Jesipam’s heart grew lighter.  Maybe I can avoid having my father see me after all!

“We’re going under,” Keetse announced, pointing to the table.  “Halfway down the table they won’t be able to see us from the door, and the door is the only place where they can see us without actually bending down to look under.  If we keep quiet, and stay away from their feet, we may be able to hide there for a long time!”

He strode over and pulled a chair out from the middle of the table.  He gestured to A’Lomre and Jesipam to duck in through the space he’d opened, and then followed when they’d scrambled under.  The three children huddled under the center of the table.

They barely had time to settle into comfortable positions before the creak of the great hall’s doors announced the visitor’s arrival.  Several sets of heavy-booted footsteps echoed off the marble walls - interspersed with the clink of metal swords.

Lighter steps ran down the corridor from the opposite direction.  Jesipam heard Steward Venrel call out, “This way!”  His voice sounded more deep and resonant as it echoed in the hall.  Moments later she saw Venrel’s neat, gray shoes and leggings, followed by three sets of gleaming black knee-high boots.

“You check the perimeter, I’ll check the center,” Venral instructed.  Jesipam watched the boots walk up either side of the table, pausing at intervals.  In those pauses she’d see the bottom of a tapestry flap, or a small table or settee move as one of the guards check behind it.  Venrel’s gray-clad arms and legs came into view as he pulled back and lifted up one chair after another from the table to examine them.  When he’d completed the circuit he paused. 

Suddenly his face appeared under the table.  The three children all drew in a collective deep breath.  For a fraction of a moment, Jesipam hoped he might not see them in the dim light.  Then his eyes fixed on them.  His lips rolled inward in concentration.  He pulled a chair back to give himself room to crawl part way under the table.

He tapped the carpet with his hand, raising his eyebrows to indicate the question: ‘Do you mean to stay here?’  Keetse nodded and tapped the carpet in response: ‘Yes we plan to stay here.’  Venrel nodded, then held a finger to his lips to signal silence.  Keetse nodded.  Venrel withdrew.  “All clear!”  He announced.  “Will you be guarding the door?”

“We will,” a deep voice answered.

“Very good,” the steward replied.  “Please notify me when the meeting ends.  You’ll find my suite’s at the third door on the left down this corridor.”

“I know where your suite is sir.”  The guard sounded annoyed, but added a respectful, “Thank you.  We’ll inform you when the meeting is over.”  Three pairs of black-booted legs disappeared out the door followed by Steward Venrel’s gray shoes and leggings.  “All clear!” Venrel’s voice rang out.

More heavy-booted footsteps approached.  Jesipam heard her uncle’s voice, “Thank you Weltre.  Now, please leave me alone with Lord Blue House.  I don’t wish to be disturbed for anything short of an emergency.”

“I understand, my lord.”

Jesipam watched as two sets of booted feet entered.  The thick door of the receiving room swung shut behind them.

Her uncle started to conversation.  “Well, Beslre, it’s been a while since we’ve talked face to face.”

“Yes, it seems that since my daughters started living here, you can’t find an excuse to visit me.”  Jesipam caught her breath.  This voice sounded so much like her uncle that only the subject matter clued her into the fact that the speaker was, in fact, her father.

“There’s nothing to keep you from visiting me,” Uncle Rogna replied.

“And here I am.”

“Yes, and you brought company too.  I suppose those men out there are here to entertain us with an early harvest festival dance?  Maybe a little hay stack binding contest?  A few songs around the festival table?  You couldn’t have come to fight!”  Her uncle’s voice dripped with sarcasm.  Then his voice turned more threatening.  “Not when you know that you would not only be fighting Red House, but Gold House too.  Tleme is just waiting for just this kind of excuse to invade Blue House lands!”

A loud thump shook the table above them.  The three children froze.  “I sent you missive after missive requesting that you return my daughters – or at least discuss the matter – and time after time you evaded, refused, or ignored my requests!  What choice did you give me?”

Her Uncle Rogna’s voice remained calm.  “You could have come here alone.  I traveled alone to Blue house many times - to visit with you and these same little girls – the ones you claim to so dearly want returned to you.”

“What do mean by this ‘claim to want returned to you’?  Why wouldn’t I want my daughters with me?”

Uncle Rogna’s voice took on a deadly cool tone. “Indeed!  That’s something I’ve been puzzling over for better than a year.”  The table creaked as Uncle Rogna settled his weight on it – one leg resting on the floor, another propped on a chair, his torso obviously seated on the table itself.  “Why would a man shun his own daughters – push them off to the farthest corners of Children’s Court…without proper clothing, decent food, or even an attempt at an adequate education?”

Jesipam saw her father step back.  “You don’t know what it’s like at Blue House – not to live there!...try to rule there …”  He started to pace back and forth beside the table.  “People sneak around, whisper behind your back, smile at you and say one thing to your face, all the while plotting to do the opposite thing.  They speak in secret codes; write in secret characters; pass each other notes knotted into threads too fine to see except in direct sunlight.  They read them with their finger tips!  They even file off the top layers of skin at finger tips to make them more sensitive so that they can read these secret messages more readily!  They cast spells that shock, or confuse, or throw persons back if they enter a particular space.  (This is no exception – it is so common place that the whole castle is riddled with these hazards!)  There is not a person in the castle who does not keep a handful of tiny crystals, and does not know at least a dozen spells for locking, unlocking, confusing, obscuring, or otherwise hiding their ways and means from each other… and the factions!  Each group vying, conspiring, supporting and betraying each other - all in a struggle for power.  The only thing they on which they stand united is their hatred for me!”

Uncle Rogna sighed.  “What you are saying is that Blue House is like any other court, but with a Stillen twist.”

“It’s as if the Stillens still lived there!” Beslre pleaded.  “You can’t imagine the secrecy… the spells…”

“I think my imagination may be less limited than you imply – but this still doesn’t answer my question: Why did you shun your daughters?”

Jesipam noticed that her father had stopped pacing.  He turned toward in the direction where her uncle sat.  “When you live in such an environment, you grow sensitive to the spells and intents of those around you.  Soon after my son was born I felt a searching spell attached to a terrible longing.  It sought out me, specifically.  When I deflected it, the spell bounced onto my infant son.  I detected no malice in the spell, yet my son died within hours of contacting it.  There was such power behind it!  Of course I was beside myself!  I stirred my wife from her sick-bed to trace the origin of the spell – for she is better at these things than I am…”

Rogna stood up.  “You dragged a sick woman to the Stillen tir?  Are you mad?”

“I didn’t say I took her to the tir!’

“I know Tolranem’s strengths and weaknesses.  If you wanted a strong seer-search you would have brought her to the tir, because that’s the only place she was likely to be able to provide such information – especially when she is ill.”

“Our son had just been killed!  We both wanted to know who was responsible!  She went willingly.  Besides, she says the tir gives her strength.”

“Then why don’t you bring her to the tir more often?”  Rogna’s voice took on a bitter edge.

“Don’t play ignorant!  You know the tirs can cause madness - even death - to those who use them often! I fear my wife’s a bit mad already. I have to lock her up to keep her away from the tir now!”  Jesipam noted an odd catch in his voice, and had the feeling that what her father just said wasn’t exactly the truth.  He coughed and cleared his throat.  “In any case, she stayed in the tir a long time.  When she came out, she avoided my eyes.  At first all she’d say was that the spell was an accident – not meant to harm – cast by a person unskilled in spell making.  However, as you know, an unskilled spell maker can be as dangerous as a skilled one if sufficient power can be summoned – so I pressed her for the identity.  She then told me that the spell maker was our own daughter, Jesipam.  I was beside myself with shock and grief.  One of our children killed another!  I temporarily couldn’t stand the sight of her - or her sister.  (They look so much alike).”

Jesipam felt dizzy. It can’t be true!  She looked over at her cousins who stared at her in horror.  She quietly crawled away from them, curled up and hid her face in her hands.

“Your story contains a few holes, Beslre.”  Her uncle sounded annoyed.  “First, your neglect of your daughters started long before your son was born.  Second, if you simply wanted to avoid seeing them, or wanted to contain any developing powers they might possess, Red House is the perfect place for them.  I can take good care of them here, train them to control their magical talents, and keep them away from the nefarious Stillen influences so prevalent at Blue House.  Yet, here you are asking me to hand them over to you.  Why?”

Jesipam held her breath as her father stood still and silent.  Then he took a step toward the table.  “They’re a threat to you too, you should know.”  His voice changed its previous plaintive whine to a more menacing tone. 

“Indeed?  How so?”  Her Uncle Rogna seemed unimpressed. 

“You are right; this did start before my son was born.  Just before Lilitram was born, our guards caught a Stillen inside our central tir.  When the guards brought him before me, he begged me to spare his life.  He said that he had just completed an intense seer-search in the tir; and that he would be able to tell me something crucial about this soon-to-be-born-child if I let him live.  Naturally, I wanted to know about the child, whether it was a boy or girl, and what its fate might be.  I agreed to his terms.  He told me that the child would be a girl – obviously he was right.  He also told me that any girl-children born to my wife would become the center of violent rebellion that would overthrow and replace the present dynasties in a bloody coup.  He said that only a boy child would secure our future peace.  When I pressed him as to what to do about my daughters, he said that the only way to avoid the rebellions was to keep them from growing up to be recognized as heirs to the Blue House throne.  That’s what I’ve been trying to do.  I could have had them killed.  I chose to nurture them within my own castle instead – only in a way that they wouldn’t be recognized.”

Jesipam watched her Uncle Rogna’s legs – waiting anxiously to see how he’d respond to this.  He put one foot on the seat of a chair and leaned in toward his brother.  “Beslre, I must say I’ve misread you.  When we were children you could be such a terrible liar.  I always hoped you would eventually put that behind you.  Now, it seems... you’ve only grown worse.”

“But I…”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe you would make a deal with a Stillen after he showed himself dangerous enough to break into your tir and use it?  Furthermore, how could you trust what he said?  You had no way to verify it.  He could easily have made the whole thing up!  I’m sure you would think about that – which is why I think you made this whole thing up!”

Beslre started pacing again.  “Alright, you tell me what you think I’ve been doing?”

“I think this is related to that little incident that caused you to send Tapre away.”

Beslre stopped pacing.  “Tapre?”

“Yes.” Rogna casually shifted his weight to his other foot.  “You remember Tapre, your wife’s cousin…captain of your guard a few years back.  You sent him out to lead an ambush on a Southern army marching under General Tilvreek.  However, your intelligence seems to have been…faulty because it was Tilvreek who ambushed Tapre – not the other way around.  You could have lost most of your army if it hadn’t been that Tilvreek just happened to be more interested in capturing hostages for ransom than capturing territory.  You experienced further luck that the only hostages he chose were Tapre and a few of his close comrades.  The good general simply let the rest go free!  Unusually generous of him – don’t you think?”

“Not so generous!  We paid the ransom he asked and he didn’t return all the hostages.  He’s still holding out for more gold!”

“Yes, and strangely Tapre is one of those hostages that hasn’t been returned.”

“So what relation do you think this hostage situation has to my daughters?”

“That’s a good question: ‘What relationship does Tapre have to Jesipam and Lilitram?’  Hmmm, let me think about that.  What relationship does Tapre ha…”

Beslre bounded around the table to Rogna’s side.  Rogna stepped back to face him.  Beslre halted an arm’s length short of his brother.  “Tapre was plotting against me – rounding up supporters to try to oust me from my throne.  He’s of royal blood, so I couldn’t just execute him.  I had to find another way to get rid of him.”

Rogna sighed.  “Well you didn’t do a very good job of it.  Our intelligence here tells us that Tapre is growing strong in the hands of the Southerners.  They are teaching him many useful things – and he is making many allies among them.  In addition, rumor has it that he is growing stronger in other ways.  The family sorcery runs strong in him.  I suggest you either bring him back or have him killed.  To leave him where he is would be folly.”

“What good would it do to bring him back?”

“What good would it do to bring Jesipam and Lilitram back?”

Beslre didn’t answer.

Rogna continued.  “You could watch him more carefully, flatter him, train him, buy him off with riches and high sounding titles, and if that doesn’t work: constrict his movements – possibly permanently.”

“And my daughters?”

“I think it’s best they stay here for the moment – don’t you think?  I mean, since you suspect them of casting deadly spells, and plotting against you… not to mention the fact that any fighting will likely bring Gold House troops into your lands - side by side with Red House troops…”

Beslre started pacing again.  “Fine!  I’ll leave them here for now!  Don’t think this ends the matter though.”

“No, I’m sure there is more to come.  But I’m a patient man.  I can wait.  In the meantime, feel free to stay here tonight.  I’m sure my steward has a fine room made up for you by now.”

“No thank you.  I’ll sleep with my troops.”  Beslre strode to the door, then paused. “We’ll move out in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Rogna responded.

Beslre opened the door and disappeared into the corridor beyond.  The door closed behind him.  Rogna stood facing the door for a few moments, then sighed and bent down.  Jesipam gasped to see his face appear under the table.  “Well, I thought I heard some rustling under here!”

“Father!” Keetse moaned.  “We just wanted to hear what…”

Uncle Rogna nodded.  “I know, I know.  You’re not in trouble - this time!”  He curled his finger, beckoning the children to come out from under the table.  As Keetse crawled out, his father helped him up, then kept hold of his arm and caught his eyes with a stern look.  “However, young man, I am noticing a tendency for you to take unfair advantage of the staff’s fondness for you.  You put Venrel in a difficult position when you hid under this table.  If this had been a more strategic meeting, he could have been in great trouble for letting you children stay.  I want you to apologize to Venrel.”  Rogna dropped Keetse’s arm and gave him a shove toward the door.  “While you are there, please let Venrel know that your uncle won’t be staying here tonight.”

“Yes Father!”  Keetse bounded for the door.  A’Lomre scrambled up from under the table.  His father clapped him on the back.  “Go with your brother – and you apologize too!”

“Yes, Father,” A’Lomre sighed and shuffled out after Keetse.

Jesipam hung back - reluctant to face her uncle after all her father said about her.

Her uncle held out his hand to her.  Gingerly, she grasped it.  He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her out from under the table, then gave her a hug.  “That must have been pretty hard for you to hear!”

Jesipam nodded and hugged him tighter.  “Then you don’t believe any of the things he said about me?”

He knelt down so he could look into her face.  “Your father is a very bitter man.  As such, he makes many enemies.  He also tends to interpret possible threats to his pride as plots of mortal treason.  You aren’t the first person he’s slandered with his stories.  However, he’s not a totally irrational person.  My guess is that there probably is some plot forming around you if he considers you and your sister to be a threat.  You are going to have to be very careful of your actions, or you may be caught up in something beyond your control.”

Jesipam nodded.  His words flowed through her mind like water through a sieve.  The only thing that she held onto was that he still loved and trusted her, and she and Lilitram were still welcome to stay safe in Red House.  For the moment, that was enough.

Back to Home Page  Site Map

Click one of theses links below to buy this book:

or createspace.com at: pocket edition  or Extended Edition: