NexLord: Dark Prophecies (19 page)

“
A mother 
and
 a
sister,”
 Aerin thought.  Lor had more family
than Aerin had ever dreamed.  He waited for a long time
but Lor did not come out.  When it was nearing time to
light the street lamps, Aerin went to meet Dono and tell him where
to find Lor.  Dono was as surprised as Aerin had been
that Lor had a mother and a sister.

That night Aerin went to Mara’s room and
knocked.

“Yes?” her voice called from within.

“It’s Aerin.”

“I know
that.
C
ome in,” she replied. 

When he opened the door, he saw Mara placing
an old and yellowed document onto a pile of similarly aged
papers.  Aerin noted that her eyes were
uncharacteristically red and tired looking.

“I... I have a favor to ask,” he
stammered.

“Indeed?  Well, out with it, I
won’t bite,” replied Mara with a bit too much force.

Aerin paused a moment, “Is everything all
right?”

Mara took a deep breath and recovered her
emotions, the tension washed from her face, as she attempted to put
away her own pain before the boy.

She swallowed, and then in a more normal
voice said, “Everything is fine… this is just a bad time of year
for me.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Aerin asked,
and then flushed as he thought about how foolish his helping Mara
sounded.

Mara managed a smile; “It’s just the ghosts
of pain come to bother an old woman.  Never fear, it will
pass.  Now I believe you were here to ask me
something?”

Aerin looked away from her face and asked in
a subdued voice, “I need to borrow some money.”

Mara’s expressive eyes looked suddenly
inquisitive.  “How much do you need?”

Aerin
considered;
he hadn’t really thought that part
through.  “Well, how much does a doctor cost for a house
visit?”

Now Mara was intrigued, “Quite a bit,
actually.  Who is sick?”

“I can’t tell you,” Aerin said in an agonized
voice.

“I see, and yet you wish me to give you the
money?”

“Yes, but I’ll pay it all back, once I find a
job.”

She considered him for a moment, “A job...
doing what?”

“I don’t know, cleaning stables, washing
windows, sweeping floors, I can find something,” he explained
quickly.

Mara shrugged, “If it means so much to you
that you are willing to shovel horse manure, it must be
important.  All right, here you are,” she said, fishing
out a purse and extracted one fifty-mark coin and a
twenty-penny.  “This should cover much more than a single
doctor visit, but tell me, will this sick person accept your
charity?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.  

“Some people will not allow others to spend
money on them; it can be a pride issue.”

Aerin considered, “I’ll think of
something.”

Mara gave him an encouraging smile, “I’m sure
you will.  If you need anything else, you let me
know.  And don’t go looking for a job; I have plenty for
you to do around here, so you can work this
off
that way.”

Aerin relaxed and said, “Thank you very much,
Sen Mara, I will do anything you want.”

“All right then, for
now,
I had better get back to reading and I think you had
better be getting to bed.”

Aerin nodded and looked down at the top of
the document pile.  The words on the old documents were
written in a bold flowing script.  Aerin read the top
line of the page Mara had been reading, it said, “...
pulsing
out her life’s blood she will be the
first to bond to the new NexLord.”

Mara noted where he was looking and in a
suddenly stern voice said, “Is it your habit to read other people's
documents without asking?”

Aerin cast his eyes down, “No, Sen Mara, I
was just... I’m sorry.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“No, I’ll be going now,” he said
sheepishly.

“Good, and ask Tocor to come in on your way
to your room, I think you need a hard lesson tomorrow on
courtesy.”

Aerin flushed, “Yes, Sen Mara.”

“Are you still here?”

“No,” Aerin
said
and fled the room.

Tocor arrived a few minutes later and entered
Mara’s room.

“Young Aerin looked as if you had told him
the Togroths were coming for him tonight,” the Quarian said in an
amused tone.

Mara shrugged, “He needed a little shaking
up, I caught him reading off the top of the stack there,” she said,
pointing at the papers on her table.

“The Prophecy, I don’t suppose that would be
too good for him at the moment.”

“No, I should say not,” Mara agreed.

Tocor looked over the page, “I see, this
mention of the girl puzzles me, shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Mara nodded.  “Yes, she should, but
don’t worry, I have seen her about.”

Tocor looked surprised and said, “And have I
seen her?”

“Oh yes, I believe you have met her.”

Tocor looked puzzled as he replied, “All
right, Mara, you can keep your secrets for the
moment.  What about this part where it says he should be
ready for the test at the youngest age ever?  Aerin is
outpacing
Gandarel at this
point!  Your new NexLord is falling behind.”

Mara sighed, “Yes that is a
problem.  Are you pushing him?”

“Yes and your ploy of rewarding Aerin ahead
of Gandarel to that mythical second level did seem to have an
effect.  Gandarel is studying twice as hard, but ploy or
not, Aerin is ahead of Gandarel.”

“In weapon play?” Mara asked.

“Not at all, actually Gandarel has that edge,
but in
the most
important aspects
of control, yes, Aerin is much further along.  Doesn’t
this go against the prophecy?”

“Actually, most of it is coming along
fine.  My only concern is leadership; I thought for sure
Gandarel would have risen to the apex of their group by
now.  However, they all seem to be close, though Aerin
seems more the glue than Gandarel.  Still, Aerin and
Gandarel are as close as can be, so I’m not overly
worried.  If nature doesn’t take its course soon, I may
have to take a stronger hand and make that part come true.”

Tocor shook his head.  “I can’t
believe how you manipulate this thing,” he said, tapping the stack
of old paper.  “It won’t be much of a prophecy if you
make it all come true by force.”

“
Of course,
it is; the more items in here that I make into facts, the more
people will believe the rest will come true, and the more that
believe the more power and momentum it gains; you know
that.  What power does a prophecy have if everyone
doesn’t believe it will come true?  Maybe I should change
that part about...”

“Change it, you can’t change a
prophecy!  That document is three hundred years old; you
can’t just go adding lines and changing things at
will.  People will notice… there are other copies... this
is famous!”

“
Of course,
I can, I’ve done it before,” Mara said with a sly smile.

Tocor shook his head in
disbelief.  “You have some nerve, don’t you, Mara?”

“Who, me?” she said, feigning
innocence.  “I’m just a simple old woman.”

“Hah.”

Lor was not at the morning practice, though
Aerin had little time to worry about his missing friend since Tocor
had him in a sweat going round-robin with the other two boys in
mixed weapons sparring.  Tocor even took the sand at one
point, when Gandarel and Dono were too tired.  Aerin
swiftly learned a little humility. The Quarian hardly seemed to
breathe, let alone break a sweat as he dropped Aerin into the sand
over and over again.

At last,
Tocor gave a grunt of satisfaction, when Aerin completed a
particularly difficult
parry
to
stop yet another trip to the sand.  Aerin was near
collapse
and had Tocor struck once
more he would have had no chance.

“All right, boy, I believe you are
concentrating properly again.  That’s enough for now,
though I might run you through some more practice this
afternoon.”

Aerin knew not to groan or show any sign that
he was anything but eager.  “I would look forward to more
instruction, Sar Tocor,” he managed to say between gasps for
breath.

Tocor paused a moment and then nodded, “But I
think I have some business I will have to take care of
instead.  We will take it up tomorrow morning; don’t be
late.  And find Lor; he has had plenty of time to get
over his snit.”

Gandarel came over when the large Quarian
strode out of the courtyard. 

“Wow, he had it in for you
today.  What did you do, put a rat in his bed?” Gandarel
said with a ferocious grin.

Aerin still stood hunched over with his hands
on his thighs to keep steady.  He was too tired to find
the energy to sit down.  “I read a paper on Mara’s desk,
something she was studying.”

“Without permission, I assume,” noted
Gandarel.

Aerin shrugged.

“And… what did it say?

Aerin shuffled his feet.

“Stop shuffling your feet and tell me, am I
not your best friend?” Gandarel exclaimed.

“I can’t, it was wrong of me to read Mara’s
document, and it certainly isn’t right for me to tell anyone what
it said.”

Gandarel gave Aerin a look reminiscent of
thunderclouds.

“All right, don’t look at me like
that!  I won’t tell you what I read exactly, but I will
tell you…” Aerin paused dramatically and spoke in a conspirator’s
whisper, “it looked like some kind of prophecy!”

“Prophecy,
ug
, and here I thought it was going to be something
exciting!” Gandarel said in distaste.

Aerin was taken aback by Gandarel’s
reaction.  “You don’t care?”

“Listen, my teachers at the Seat are always
waving this prophecy, that prediction, this decree, that demand, at
me. Sheesh, I hate those things.  Prophecy, that’s just
one more way of saying ‘this is what you have to do’,” Gandarel
shook in feigned disgust.

Aerin looked so disappointed that Gandarel
decided to give in a little.

“Still,” Gandarel said and put on a
thoughtful look, “it could be interesting to see which prophecy the
old witch is interested in reading.”

“Old witch, I will not hear you talk about
Mara that way,” Aerin said with a scowl.

Gandarel grinned, “Well, she is old…”

“That is no reason to call her a witch!”

“And she does read some strange
prophecy.  Come to think of it, there are a lot of odd
things about her,” Gandarel said, this time not in jest.

“Like what?” Aerin demanded.

“Well, how does an old woman know so much
about fighting?  How come she has a Quarian and a
Willowman as friends?  How did she stop that Deglick
thing that came to the Seat? How does an old woman beat a thug in a
bar room brawl?  There is something strange about her,
don’t you agree?”

“Well yes, I suppose so.”

“And so, she is a witch!” Gandarel said as if
closing a box.

Aerin shook his head.  “I agree
right up to the part about the witch.  I haven’t seen her
do any magic.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No.”

“
Well,
you
just watch… one day, POOF, you’re going to be a toad,” Gandarel
said playfully.

“You are being ridiculous.”

“Well if she isn’t a witch then that prophecy
she has will not be anything magical, will it?”

“No, it is just writing,” agreed Aerin.

“Fine, we will take a look at it and then we
will see.”

Aerin looked fearful, “Did you see what
happened to me when I read just one line?  If she is a
witch she would certainly turn us both into toads for reading the
whole thing.”

Gandarel looked smug, “See; now you think she
is a witch.”

“I do not, that was just a joke!”

“But she has already turned you into
something,” Gandarel pointed out.

Aerin looked at him quizzically.

“A chicken!” Gandarel exclaimed.

Aerin tried to swat him with the practice
sword he was holding, but Gandarel danced away laughing.

“Come on, Chicken-boy, too afraid to see some
old papers?”

“No, I’m just too smart to cross Mara.”

“Fine then, but she’s still a witch and
you’re still a Chicken-boy,” he laughed.

Too tired to care, Aerin finally quit chasing
him and just laughed.  “Gandarel, sometimes I wonder why
I put up with you.”

“Charm, good looks, brains, or is it my
money?” he asked.  “Stop me if I get carried away.”

“Stop then, you were carried away from the
beginning,” Aerin admonished.

Gandarel continued to laugh as he left the
yard, with his two Guardsmen taking up positions from where they
had been waiting at the gate.  “See ya later,
Chicken-boy!”

Aerin shook his head good-naturedly at his
friend’s antics.

After he recovered from practice, Aerin told
Tocor he was going out to buy something in the
city.  When he arrived at the street where Lor’s mother
sat selling her flowers, he watched for a time to make sure she was
alone.  
Eventually,
he
got up enough courage to go over and talk to her.

“Good day,” he said in greeting.

She smiled up with unseeing eyes, her face
orienting on the sound of his voice.  Aerin swallowed
hard, he hadn’t realized she was blind.

“Buy some flowers, Sar?” she asked, holding
up a somewhat wilted flower.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Aerin answered
quietly.

“Penny a flower, or a Baker’s dozen for
twelve pence,” she offered.  “You can pick them out
yourself.”

“All right, I’ll look them over,” Aerin said,
though he made no move to look at the wooden bucket that held the
flowers.  “I’ve seen you here before, selling flowers,”
he said, trying to start a conversation.