Passing Judgement

As Saga had predicted, the cart arrived at Beacon’s Gate just before sundown. As they had cargo, a Guard stopped them at the mouth of the tunnel to inspect it. Saga thought having Guards with them would have expedited their entry, but she supposed she couldn’t fault them for following procedure. Flint, the Guard who’d ridden in the back with Saga and the others, hopped and and whispered something to the man. She tried to ignore the shocked sympathy on the man’s face, but Flint’s words had done the trick. He waved them through, and Flint climbed easily back into the cart as it passed.

As they entered the tunnel itself, Gem pulled up on the lantern at the center of the wagon, revealing the Redlight within. Saga averted her gaze immediately, focusing instead on Gem’s copper horns as they seemed to glow red in the light. The last thing she needed was to freeze in front of everyone. “I’m planning to head straight to the Academy. Grandpapa probably needs to see this as soon as possible.”

Gem nodded her agreement. “I’ll be right there with you, then. I might as well face the music and get it over with. If I’m still alive when he’s done with me, we can grab dinner after?”

Saga smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” She looked down at the makeshift casket. “Do you know where they’re taking him?”

Gem shook her head. “To the Academy, I assume. He didn’t have any family, I don’t think.”

“Besides you,” Saga said firmly, placing a hand on Gem’s knee. “Could you keep him at your place until the ceremony?”

“No, I live in an apartment.” She smirked, then added dryly, “I loved him like a father, but not enough to carry him up a flight of stairs.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Gem closed the lantern as they exited the tunnel; there was still enough daylight to keep the cart afloat until they reached their destination. As they passed along the main street towards the Grand Ring, Saga closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was home again.

Something tapped on her hand, and she looked down to see Dapper waving at her excitedly. “You’re happy to be home too, aren’t you?” she asked him.

The beatweaver nodded in his fashion and leapt up to her shoulder, tapping out a message for her. He was going to head home to let Miss Lessa know they were back and do some hunting.

Saga nodded to him, stroked his back for a moment, then watched him vanish into the setting sun. At Gem’s confused expression, she relayed his words.

“He’s not going to visit the Headmaster with us?”

Saga shrugged. “He’s as smart as some people, but too much talking bores him. When he’s done hunting, he’ll likely hang around the Academy looking for an apprentice Drummer to play with while he waits.”

Gem raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Saga knew Dapper just didn’t have the attention span to pay attention to things that didn’t interest him, and she didn’t blame him for it. He had a knack for always being there right when she needed him, and that was more than enough for her.

The driver guided the cart way directly across the Grand Ring and into the Academy district. The dormitories for older Academy students were here, as well as housing for citizens of Beacon’s Ridge that weren’t particularly affiliated with any one of the Crafthalls. The Keepers’ Academy loomed ahead of them, straight down the road. It was a majestic building, even in the falling light, and there was something about it that filled stirred something in Saga every time she saw it.

Just as the cart came to a stop in front of the wide steps leading up to the Academy’s massive doors, the sun finally dipped below the horizon. All around the party, previously unlit lamps spring to life, bathing the streets in their warm collective glow. Even the light of the lamps wasn’t enough to keep the cart floating, though, and it settled to the ground with a solid thud as the light faded from the sky.

Taking advantage of the lowered cart, Saga and Gem stepped out onto the ground and headed inside. Master Dorrin would be taken care of, Saga knew that. Still, though, she shot one last glance over her shoulder at the casket just before it disappeared into view.

At this time of day, studies had largely concluded for the evening, and students would either be grabbing meals, studying, or enjoying some leisure time. Saga had the resist the urge to head to the training yard, where she’d spent most of her free time here. Master Dorrin’s words about her failed trial played in her mind and, for a moment, she considered destroying the letter and making something up to her grandfather. It wasn’t her fault the village had burned down, and she didn’t see why she had to be punished for it.

She mentally grabbed the thought, cut it into pieces, and threw it out the window, then continued through the halls. After eight years of studying, she knew them almost as well as her own home. Gem clearly remembered her time here as well, because she kept pace with Saga the entire way. The Headmaster’s office, she’d been surprised to learn as a youth, wasn’t at the top of the Academy’s central spire like she’d assumed. Now, of course, it made sense. Most Headmasters were elderly, or at least middle-aged. All those stairs would be a health hazard. Saga stifled a giggle at the thought of her Grandpapa, still spry for his age, hobbling up and down those stairs with a cane.

Gem shot her a sidelong glance, eyebrow raised. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Saga replied, and her smile faded as they approached his door. “What are the odds he knows we’re coming?”

“Oh, he definitely knows. He’ll probably ask what took us so long.”

“He’s definitely tired of pretending he can’t hear two young women talking right outside his door.” Grandpapa’s voice was clear from inside the room, making them both wince.

Saga gave Gem her best reassuring smile, then stepped inside. “Good evening, Headmaster,” she said, coming to a stop before his desk as students were instructed to do. His office was cozy, and she remembered spending time here in her youth, even before her father had let her join the Academy. Bookshelves lined the walls, a collection built up over centuries of occupancy by previous Headmasters. The carpet was plush, and four comfortable chairs were arranged around the room: two of them directly before his desk, and the other two in front of a fireplace to one side.

“You too, Gem,” Grandpapa called.

The copper hesitated, then quietly moved to stand beside Saga and offering a salute to the Headmaster. While Saga herself stood there as a student, hands clasped before her and patiently waiting to be addressed, Gem’s stance was…soldierly? It wasn’t quite the rest position of Guards in formation, but she was rigid, like she was waiting to report to a superior officer. Saga supposed that was fair; he was essentially her boss, even if they were just Bards.

You know that’s not the whole truth. She frowned at the thought. Something was definitely up, but this was her grandfather. He wouldn’t hide something important from her.

The old man was hunched over a paper on his desk, a letter, as best as Saga could tell from this distance. “Sit,” he said, his tone absent. “Have some tea, I’ll just be a moment.”

Saga removed her pack and obeyed, pouring herself a cup from the pot on his desk and offering some to Gem, who declined, then sat down. She sipped at it and sighed. It had gotten cold, but she drank anyway. She’d forgotten to refill her canteen back at the camp and had been parched for most of the day.

Gem, for her part, seemed tense. Her back was straight, and she seemed ready to jump up at any moment. It was so unlike her, though she reminded herself that, despite the events of the few days, it wasn’t as if she actually knew her that well. Saga tried to catch her eye, to give her a supportive smile, but Gem’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. Disappointed, Saga let her eyes wander around the room instead as she finished her tea.

After what felt like hours, Grandpapa leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with one hand. He looks so tired , Saga thought. He lowered his hand and looked from Saga to Gem. His eyes were red, practically bloodshot, and Saga realized suddenly that he'd been crying.

“I’ve already heard about Dorrin,” he said finally, as if in response to her unspoken observation. “You don’t have to worry about being the bearer of that particular piece of bad news.” He looked down at the surface of his desk, stroking his goatee. “I feel his loss acutely. He was a capable man, a reliable ally, and a good friend.” With the grunt of effort of a man who’d been stuck in a chair all day, he stood up and moved to the front of his desk, leaning on it. “So, what happened?” he said, looking back and forth between them. “Amos wouldn’t give me details.”

Saga opened her mouth to speak, but Gem cut her off, standing up and at attention. “Headmaster, I’ve broken your trust,” she declared, “and present myself to you for judgement.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gemma Chase,” he began, his tone exasperated, “I grant you my trust, and absolve you of my judgement.” The words had the cadence of ritual, and Saga raised both eyebrows at the implications.

“What?” Gem dropped her rigid formality and stared at him in disbelief. “But, I didn’t even tell you—”

“Gem, in all my years of training you, and in the years of you working for me that followed, you’ve never once given me reason to doubt I could trust you.” The Headmaster explained patiently. “The fact that you immediately sought judgment for your lapse is an additional point in your favor.” He turned to Saga and held out a hand. “Amos said you have something for me. If you’d be so kind?”

Saga blinked, then hurried to obey. She’d almost forgotten what this whole thing was about! The letter was still in perfect condition, minus the broken seal, when she pulled it from her pouch. Grandpapa accepted it from her and examined the seal before raising an eyebrow at Gem. “I understand your concern now, at least. A broken red ring. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen one of these, though it’s the first time the guilty party didn’t try to conceal it. That’s the funny thing about this wax,” he mused as he opened the letter, “we purposefully use a type of wax that breaks extremely easily and doesn’t melt cleanly a second time. Best as we can tell, it’s impossible to reseal one of these once the seal’s broken.” He eyed Gem over the paper. “If you’d tried to hide it from me, then we may have had a problem.”

Gem hesitated, nodded, then slowly sat back down. The two women waited patiently as he read, but evidently Master Dorrin hadn’t written much as it only took him a minute to finish. With slow, deliberate motions, he folded the letter, placed it in his own coat pocket, and stepped back around the desk to his chair. “Gem,” he began, reclining and closing his eyes, “before we continue, do you agree with his assessment?”

The copper looked at Saga, her expression thoughtful. Saga responded with a questioning look, but Gem ignored her. “I do.”

Saga realized suddenly what they were talking about, and her heart sank. This is what Master Dorrin and Gem were talking about that morning, she thought, when Gem was saying I wasn’t ready for something. He said I failed the trial, and she agrees. She felt her eyes beginning to tear up, a mixed ball of anger, frustration, and betrayal on a collision course with the knot of grief that already pressed against her heart. No, I won’t cry here. I won’t make this about me. I need to let them focus on finding out what happened to Master Dorrin. With that in mind, she gathered herself mentally, only to realize Grandpapa and Gem were both staring at her.

Had one of them been talking to her? “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Grandpapa frowned at her. “I was asking you how much you understand about what’s been happening?”

Saga considered the question. “I’m pretty sure Master Dorrin, Gem, Amos, and maybe the other Crossroads Bards aren’t just Bards, but they aren’t Guards in disguise, either. They’re too well-trained in their respective Passions.”

He nodded encouragingly, so she continued. “Master Dorrin was sent to investigate some mysterious disappearances further east, in Balorn, but when we found what seemed like an obvious culprit, he seemed certain that she wasn’t at fault. But then, there was that sudden change in personality towards the end. It didn’t seem natural.” She suppressed a shiver, the memory of his hands on her throat coming to mind. “Something big is going on, bigger than me. I didn’t handle myself very well, so I understand why he and Gem decided I’m not ready for whatever you’ve been doing.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Master Dorrin made it very clear how he felt about the situation,” she said, though she was suddenly unsure, “and Gem just said she agrees with him. I’m not going to force my way into something if the people who actually know what’s going on don’t think I’ll be any help.” She shrugged, unable to meet their eyes. Something about this was breaking her heart, though she’d never admit it. Besides, she could always take the trial again next year, and she doubted it would be as strange as this one had been.

Gem snorted. “The blade needs sharpening, Headmaster, but it’s well-forged.”

Saga looked up at her, confused. What was she talking about?

“I agree.” Grandpapa chuckled. “Saga, it’s true that Master Dorrin said that you failed the trial, but I think you’re missing an important detail. You mentioned yourself that his personality had undergone a change towards the end. He acknowledges in the letter that he didn’t mean what he said to you, that it was because of whatever influence had come upon him.”

She blinked. “Wait, are you saying I passed? I’m a full Bard?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment.” He patted his chest where he’d stowed the letter. “The first thing you should know is that his death was not your fault.”

Saga frowned, glancing at Gem. The copper had said as much, but it was somehow comforting to have it confirmed. Some of the pain that had been building in her chest throughout the conversation subsided, but the feeling still lingered. “You have a cause of death, then?”

“Indeed,” Grandpapa said, nodding. “He mentioned in the letter that he mixed a dose of bluelock into his flask that night. It seems he thought himself to be a danger to those around him, both physically and magically.”

Saga tried to recall what she’d learned of bluelock during her extra training with the Investigators. It was a monster plant similar to poison hemlock, except the flowers were a vivid blue color and its roots could reach out of the soil and try to grab small prey. Getting scratched by the roots or eating any part of the plant was deadly, but the dosage could be controlled to allow someone to pass peacefully in their sleep. Healers in the Sanctum sometimes used it for people who were terminally ill or mortally wounded to ease their passing, and in stories it was commonly used for assassinations. Why would he have some with him?

The last part of her grandfather’s words suddenly struck her, and she looked up at him. “Magically? Master Dorrin wasn’t a mage. Are you saying he had some sort of magical affliction? Did a monster get him somehow?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s worse than that. If Dorrin’s judgement is correct, and I’d bet my hat that it was, we’re dealing with an ancient enemy. What do you remember of the Legend of the Wind Dancer?”