The Steward and the Sorcerer by James Peart (books suggested by elon musk .TXT) 📕

“Is this...a healing centre?”  His voice was weak, and slightly metallic from lack of use.

Tolke smiled.  “This is the Manor, yes.  You’ve been ill and you’ve just come out of a coma, but you’ll do fine.  Can you do me a favour and try to move your arms?”

The Druid did as he was asked, lifting both arms into the air.

“That’s fine.  Now your legs, if you don’t mind?  That’s great.  We were worried you had lost mobility.  Can you remember what happened to you before you arrived here?”

Daaynan told him in general terms but did not mention any names and he did not say what had happened to his cousin Jareth.  When he finished recounting his story, Tolke stood back from him and said “that’s quite an adventure you’ve been on.  A lesser man would not have survived.  So, you were alone in being attacked, no one else was injured?”

He nodded, thinking of his cousin Jareth’s condition.  It was technically the truth.

“Alright.  We don’t as a rule treat individuals from so far North but we made an exception in your case.  I’m glad we were able to treat you successfully.”  Tolke’s wizened face beamed at him.

“Why?” he whispered.

The elderly man seemed amused.  “Why did we make an exception or why don’t we handle people from your part of the Northern Earth?”

“The second.”

“Well, Fein Mor is situated in an area close to Brinemore’s...political reach, shall we say.  In fact, at the rate things are going, should the current steward get his way, it will soon be governed by that city state, and the steward has already effectively disallowed trade of any kind between Brinemore’s occupied states and others further south.”

“How has he managed this?”

“That’s a conversation for another time.  As strange as this sounds, given what you’ve been doing up until now, you need to eat something solid, drink and rest some more.”  Despite the other’s protests, Tolke ushered the others to leave the chamber and disappeared with him.

It was a full two days before he returned, his face beaming in what Daaynan gradually realised was his natural way.

“You’re looking hale and hearty, my friend.  My assistants tell me you’ve been a model of cooperation and that you’re so well rested you could climb Mount Atterpeak in a single day,” his tone became sombre, “stopping for the odd tea-break of course- no one is that strong, even a Druid.”

Daaynan smiled.  He liked the old man.  “When am I going to be released from here?”

“Straight to the point as ever!  You cut quite an imposing figure, you know.  Some of my helpers are even a little afraid of you.  I told them ‘he’s just blunt- we have a sorcerer in the Northern Earth who likes to be direct,’ but they persist in their fear.”

“You haven’t answered my question, old man.”

“That’s funny, I thought I had.  I can’t allow my staff to walk around afraid so I’m going to let you go tomorrow, early morning so you can arrive back in Fein Mor by nightfall.”

“I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“I hadn’t forgotten.  It was concerning Brinemore, am I right?”  Daaynan nodded.  “What do you know of trade between Brinemore and its neighbouring states?  What advice would you give me?”

“Only that if I were you I’d step down from my role as Druid and leave Fein Mor to the city.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There have been developments since you locked yourself away from the world, training to be a sorcerer.  Brinemore has expanded east and south and taken stewardship of the many towns and villages it found there, forming a trade alliance with the states they belong to, although imposing an alliance would be a more accurate term.  This new Confederation is far more powerful and influential than Brinemore ever was when it was a lowly Kingdom, covering vastly more territory.”

Tolke leaned forward.  “And let me tell you something, their policy on magic and those who wield it is somewhat less than tolerant.”

Daaynan said nothing, but the old man was watching him carefully.  “You never told me who it was that caused your injuries.”

“I did battle with an ancient creature from the world of faerie.  I was lucky to survive.”

“That may be so, but you have at least one other enemy.”

“Oh?”

“Come now, a faerie creature would not stab you with a knife.”

“It would not.”

“Not unless it was suffering from the delusion that it was a mere human being with no magic at its disposal.”

Daaynan was silent for a long moment before answering.  “This human being in question, he might have been sent by the steward of Brinemore.”

“Did it occur to you that the faerie might also have been sent by Longfellow’s Confederation?  As much as he claims he detests magic, he’s not above using it to further his own ends.”

Daaynan nodded.  “I had thought of the possibility.”

“That’s why you came all the way down here to be healed, isn’t it?  Someone wants you gone up north, and it seems they will stop at nothing to achieve that end.”

“I won’t return to Fein Mor.  There are people here I need to get in contact with, individuals who might assist me in this matter.”

Tolke furrowed his wrinkled brow.  “I can provide you with lodgings, a house not too far from here.  You would be safe, at least for the time being.  Take my advice, use it while you mull over your options.”

Daaynan reached out with his hand and held the old man’s arm.  “Thank you.”

Tolke Straat went about his daily rounds, administering the organisation of the centre from the distribution of medicine to supervision of the patients and other, sundry details.  He considered the offer he had made to the Druid and the other’s seeming acceptance of it.  As far as the offer went it had been genuine enough, but he didn’t think the Druid would ultimately accept it.  He knew enough of him to know that he wasn’t the type to go into hiding, not that