Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) (14 page)

A moment of silence and then, “Who is it?”

Jan yanked the door open and entered. He came face to face with Brinchley who had half-risen from his desk, an expression of indignation on his face. Next to him was an expensively dressed stranger who remained quite calm in the face of the interruption; he sat in a relaxed pose at the table,
one fist held to his chin, the other resting on his massive stomach which was protruding over his belt.

“Ferthen? Who do you think you are, barging in like this?” spluttered Brinchley. “I am with an important guest. It is a complete outrage! I
insist
you remain outside until I am ready to speak to you.”

“I have an issue I need to raise with you. Regarding the Festival.” He thrust out the crumpled map. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s a mistake that it says Three Ways on these.”

Brinchley slowly straightened up, smoothing the folds of his stole. “Unfortunately, there have been complications very recently, and we have accepted the responsibility ourselves here in Three Ways to maintain the tradition of hosting a Festival on behalf of the Aeril Forest.”

“Very recently, you say?”

“It was only yesterday that I spoke with your own Councilman Tovier and resolved the issue.” Brinchley walked to the door and held it open. “That is all I have to say on the matter. Now leave.”

“It is interesting then that on this map, it shows Three Ways as the venue -”

“As I said, I sp-”

“- and the map was made over a
month
ago! Plenty of time to distribute them in Miern,” snapped Jan. “You had this planned all along!”

The foreigner did not move, but looked at Brinchley with a strange calculating look. Jan stared back and watched as Brinchley brought his hand up to fiddle with his goatee, a small bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Well?”

Brinchley smiled nervously at the stranger sitting to his left and then sat down at his table. “You are correct.”

“What? How can you do this!”

“Think about it, Ferthen. Your village could not possibly have hosted the Festival. It’s far too big an event. Three Ways will be the host this year, and for every year following. Eirdale and all the others need to accept it. And be grateful that Three Ways, at least, is able to handle such an important event for the Forest.”

A wave of fury erupted inside Jan and he lunged towards Brinchley. “You fickle excuse for a Councilman! You’re lucky I don’t drag you to Eirdale right n-”

There was a snap of movement in the room. Jan paused. A pale gleam of sunlight glinted off the thin, steel saber pointed at his throat.

“Easy,” said the stranger.

He had moved surprisingly quickly to draw his sword, at odds with his obese frame. Jan turned to look at the man. He had a thick, greased beard that was long enough to almost touch the bright red, embroidered lapels of the coat he was wrapped in.

As quick as an adder, Jan whipped his right hand up to seize the blade and, with a powerful jerk of his arm, he yanked the saber clean out of the man’s hand and flung it away to land with a clatter against the wall.

Brinchley cowered against the back wall stammering in panic. “Nabolek, call your soldiers!” He moved sideways along the wall towards the nearest window.

Jan squared up to the stranger who was eyeing him warily, a hand placed on the hilt of a small jeweled knife tucked into his belt.

“No need. I’m leaving. I quit!”

“You won’t be paid. I promise you that! You won’t see so much as a bronze piece from me! And I’ll see to it that you never set foot in Three Ways again, you hear!”

“I don’t want your money. When the other villages hear of this they will have something to say about it. The Overcouncil will restore the Festival to Eirdale, and you most
certainly
will be banished. You and Allium, and -” Jan pointed at the stranger, “- whoever this is.”  He left the room.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

Nabolek stooped down to pick up his saber, taking a quick glance down the blade. Brinchley coughed and straightened his coat. “Apologies, Nabolek, that man is a menace and sh-”

“Quiet!” interrupted Nabolek. “Do you think I’ve travelled all this way to be humiliated like that?”

“Foreman All-”

“I said quiet!” snapped Nabolek, sheathing the saber. “And by a
carpenter
?”

“Yes, yes,” replied Brinchley desperately. “He’s from the same village that the trader was attacked in. They’re an unruly bunch down there – criminals, many of them. But none of them will be invited to the Festival, I can guarantee it.”

“How blind you are to the consequences of the man reaching his village.”

“I don’t see what you m-”

“I thought I could trust you, Councilman, and yet now I discover you haven’t been completely honest with me about your Festival.” He slid the saber back into its sheath. “I suppose I am heartened, however, to see that you are ambitious and want the best for your forest, at least. It seems like you almost managed to pull off this Festival switch; a pity you were so clumsy with that carpenter or it might have even worked. But now…” His hooded eyes flickered around the room thoughtfully. “That man could ruin everything, all of your plans. And all of mine. We can’t have that, Councilman; there’s far too much at stake here.” He reached up to a shelf and took down a small map of the forest, peering at it. “I hate loose ends, and I certainly don’t intend for this one to stay loose for very long.”

Brinchley swallowed. “Of course, Nabolek, you have permission to do whatev-”

“Permission?”
said Nabolek. “We really aren’t getting off to a very good start here, Councilman. The Gerent will not take kindly to his relatives being threatened.” He poked his finger into Brinchley’s chest, pushing him against the wall behind. “I do not need your permission. And if I am embarrassed in any way again…”

Brinchley swallowed again and sent his many chins wobbling as he nodded fervently.

“Good. I like you, forester. I would hate to see our friendship break down over this, but business is business. Everything rides on this Festival going forward smoothly.” Nabolek walked towards the door, the hem of his red coat rustling as it slid over the polished floor.

Brinchley glanced out the window. “And the carpenter?”

Nabolek halted in the doorway. “As a favor, I will clean up your mess, Councilman.”

R
af yawned and rested his chin on his folded arms on the bench top. At the front of the class, Yurgin Klee was droning on about something to do with crops. It was probably worth listening to him as he was easily the most knowledgeable farmer and ran some of the largest farms in Eirdale, but it was a beautiful morning outside - and he was so boring!

He quickly reached over and nudged Cisco whose head had flopped back for the fourth time, emitting a strangled snoring noise. He jerked his head back upright and then looked at Raf through half closed eyes. “How much longer is this going to go
on
for?” he said under his breath.

“Yes? Young Brunnow I believe it is? Do you have the answer?” came Yurgin’s voice from the front.

Cisco panicked and looked around desperately for help, so Raf held his hand up to hide his face and mouthed ‘
potatoes’
at him.

“Er… potatoes, sir?”

The class burst into laughter and Yurgin himself chuckled so that his bony shoulders bounced up and down. “Four years of studying farming and you think that the plants that grow best in the upper canopies are potatoes?”

Cisco glared at Raf who was in muffled hysterics, leaning on Nedrick’s shoulder.

Yurgin cleared his throat to quieten the class but there was a knock at the door and a message was delivered calling him away, so he called the class to a close.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Nedrick, and the three boys sidled out through the door and then raced down the path.

“Fancy a bit of a climb?” challenged Cisco.

“You’re on!” said Nedrick. “Where?”

“
Nviro
?“

The boys looked at each other and then nodded. They sprinted down towards old Jover’s farms, tussling with each other as they scrambled between the trunks and brushes on the way. Around the side of one white beech
Ancient
, they suddenly found themselves in the midst of a large herd of
saanen
, and amused themselves for a while trying to catch one of the woolly goats before continuing.

Finally, they came to the border of Jover’s lands and saw their target standing at the crossroads of some farming patches ahead.
Nviro
, an elm
Ancient
, had a network of strangler vines that ran criss-crossing up its entire length which made for a usable ladder. It was the most used access point to get to the canopy farms on this side of the village.

They walked up to the bottom of
Nviro
and each moved a few feet apart to start climbing. Like most foresters, the boys were competent climbers and after only a short while they found themselves hundreds of feet up the trunk, climbing higher and higher until the ground below them grew distant and murky. It was much lighter up here, and sensing the tree crown nearing, they sped up, laughing and singing as they clambered upwards.

Before long, they found themselves crawling out onto a wooden platform where they finally stopped. They took a few moments to catch their breaths and absorb the view that had now opened to them. Although they’d been up here many times before, it was still astonishing, and all three of them wore open grins at the sheer beauty of the multicolored panorama. When you were used to living in
constant close quarters with trees, the openness of the sky above the Forest, its unending vastness, was dizzying.

“I am
so
going to speak to my parents about getting an apprenticeship up here,” said Cisco quietly. “I could do this every day.”

His voice sounded tiny. Every word seemed to be sucked away by the breeze and scattered into the shimmering treetops that stood swaying like rolling fields of barley. Every few hundred feet or so, an
Ancient
would punch out of the lush green foliage to continue upwards, ending in a bushy crown of its own high in the azure sky.

“How sweet does it smell here,” whispered Nedrick. “Not that I’m surprised. Have you two seen those?”

They looked to where he was pointing and saw a spindly walkway leading up to sprawling field of jasmine, thousands upon thousands of the delicate flowers hanging from every branch in sight.  Then there was a shout and a small figure came running down the rope path towards them. It was Fergus.

“Raf!” he called excitedly, and rushed up to give him a hug.

“Hey, Fergus,” replied Raf. “What are you doing up here? You sh-” He broke off as he got a proper look at the boy’s face. “How
brown
are you!”

“I know! Mr. Jover’s teaching me to be a farmer and I’ve been spending every day up here. I’m in charge of loads of things already. Just me! It’s great!”

Nedrick and Cisco were standing back watching the two. Glancing back at them, Raf stepped aside for introductions. “Fergus, these are my two friends, Cisco and Nedrick.” He pursed his lips a little and then added, “I think you guys know who this is…”

“We sure do. The latest addition to Eirdale,” said Nedrick, and he walked up to enthusiastically shake Fergus’ hand. “How are you finding our little village in the trees compared to Miern?”

“Yeah, tell us about Miern!” urged Cisco.

“Oh, it’s all right,” said Fergus. “I like the docks and the ships and things I suppose. But it’s much better here in the Forest!”

“Wh-” started Cisco, but was interrupted by Fergus who was in full flow now.

“- and Mr. Jover says he wants me to look after his cashew grove as well as the coffee because his leg hurts. He says I’m a really good climber for a city boy. And he’s let me have his spare room in his tree house!”

Raf couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s enthusiasm. “I’m glad you’re enjoying being here, Fergus.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re really happy that you met this guy, huh?” said Cisco, winking at him and playfully punching Raf’s shoulder.

Fergus nodded eagerly. “Oh yes. I would never have been able to stay if he hadn’t helped me.” He beamed up at them and then added in a conspiratorial way, “And he let me look after Orfea! Isn’t that brilliant?”

Cisco looked at Raf. “Orfea?”

“The trader tried to sell it to the Foreman, remember? The flarehorn he made?” said Nedrick.

“Oh yeah…” Cisco said. “And where
is
this marvelous thing you made? I’ve got to see it. Who’d have thought ol’ Gency could actually make something valuable!”

“I always keep it in my room. Want me get it?”