Alongside delivering the invitation and checking in on Meimin, Bayfolin had some other spirit-bond related business to attend to, and so she stayed for dinner.
It was the first time Taowren had met anyone bonded to a spirit wolf, and the vision he saw upon entering the dining room was nothing short of his expectations. Bayfolin was a striking woman who appeared to be in her late twenties—although Tomar had told Taowren she was closer to forty, it was near impossible to tell the actual age of the Gifted once they had bonded to their spirit as it extended their life expectancy greatly, and the process of ageing slowed with it. She had stark white hair tied back into a high ponytail that fell down past her shoulders in so many layers it looked almost like a mane. She could not be called feminine, but was a very well-built woman. Her shoulders were broad, and her arms were muscular and toned. What was most striking about her, however, was the pair of brilliantly blue eyes that stared out intensely, taking in every detail of the dining room.
Bayfolin was sat at one end of the table, dressed in blue and lilac robes that were cut to suit a man as much as they did a woman. Lord Tanno was at the other, with his wife Lady Quin to his right. Bayfolin gave the boy a cursory glance, her wolfish eyes lingering on his tell-tale Mohan piercings briefly.
“You must be Lord Tanno’s ward. Young Master Taown, was it?” Bayfolin’s voice was husky, with an almost otherworldly wildness to it. “I am Bayfolin, of the Okan Clan.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Taowren bowed, his shoulder-length unruly hair swishing around his face, and then took his seat to the right of his aunt and uncle. The twin cousins were already seated by their parents, alongside their great aunt, Lady Muun. He had been the last to enter the dining room, having spent longer than intended making sure he looked as presentable as he could. Taowren did not often pay attention to finer details, usually happy to walk around with his sleeves rolled up and his robes askew, but tonight he had made a genuine effort to look proper. He had chosen his best dinner robes, and had even double-checked his collar and remembered to wear his short sword. The possibility of visiting the mountains for an entire summer was a shining star in his mind, and so he wanted to make a good impression.
Dinner began with the servants shuffling in, carrying trays with a selection of dishes. Taowren smelt the tender roast quail before he saw it. Bayfolin too made a noise of pleasure as the golden-brown bird was set before her, commenting on the sweet glaze. Beside it were several side dishes of sticky rice and vegetables, both infused with ginger and garlic.
“Have you no marriage plans yourself, then?” Lady Quin asked as the servants filled everyone’s glasses with sweet wine. She was continuing a conversation that had begun long before he had entered the room. This was a common topic of dinner conversation between noble class women, Taowren knew from experience—certainly it was one of his aunt’s favourite subjects now that Tomei had come of age and could begin considering suitors from the allied clans. However, Bayfolin’s expression unexpectedly turned a little stiff at the question.
“As an Okan woman, bound to the Heavenly Peaks and my wolf-spirit, it is difficult for me.” She murmured politely, “Any husband I take on would be expected to leave his lands behind or suffer a long-distance marriage with few opportunities to meet. Thus my prospects are not good in that sense, but I am quite happy with my lot.”
“Ah, yes. Of course,” Lady Quin seemed to have expected this answer, and continued unperturbed, “It’s much easier for men in your clan, in that regard. You have a half-brother, I believe? About the same age as my twins?”
“Indeed, I do.” Bayfolin gave a closed-lip smile, she had not missed the implication behind those words. “Although I am sure you are aware of our customs—we cannot court romantic favour until after we have completed our spirit quest when we come of age, which is at twenty-one in our province,” she shook her head, wild mane-like hair fluttering, “lest we bond to a wolf whose does not agree with our choice of mate after the fact. Brayandli is only eighteen.”
“However,” she continued after a brief pause, “my father has always spoken well of Lord Tanno and thinks highly of his children.” Beside Taowren, Tomar fought to roll his eyes. Lord Balin thought highly of Lord Tanno, yes, but he had never once spared more than a glance or cursory word at his heirs. Tomar doubted the man even remembered that he or Tomei existed. The Wolf Clan Lord had a reputation for being very aloof, concerned only with the Gifted and the Lord with whom he directly made trade agreements. “It will be good so see how everyone gets on this summer.”
So, you're interested in a marriage alliance? Or not? Taowren wondered for a moment, but then turned his attention elsewhere, and began absent mindedly fiddling with the bangles on his wrist.
This was a conversation for lords, ladies and their rightful heirs—it had nothing to do with Taowren, an adopted bastard and still half-wild fool with poor health! He had no marriage prospects whatsoever, his aunt frequently reminded him. Not that he wanted any. Marriage for the noble class sounded far too stifling and dull. Lands, titles, babies. Where was the adventure in any of that?
“It is a shame you will be unable to attend this year, Lady Muun.” Bayfolin murmured, steering the conversation towards Taowren’s great aunt. Lady Muun sat beside Lady Quin, chopsticks held between her fingers, and gave the wolfish woman a polite nod.
“The Gift skipped Lord Tanno’s generation, so I must remain here to to ensure Meimin’s education in her magic progresses smoothly.” Said Lady Muun. Great Aunt Muun was older than anyone Taowren knew, but looking at her it was difficult to tell; she looked closer to her middling years thanninety. Her hair, thick and speckled with black and white, was pulled up and back into a neat bun atop her head. While her skin looked relatively clear for the most part, she was marked around her eyes and the crest of her forehead with bright red blemishes, and her small ears were pointed. If one paid attention to her hands also, they would see that her nails had long been transfigured into talons that matched the feet of her bonded bird. Alike her, Bayfolin also had pointed ears and claw-like nails; all Gifted people with a spirit bond did. “However, when the winter festivals begin, my bird, Keppet, and I shall do our best to pay you and Lord Balin a visit.”
“Speaking of bonds,” Taowren was never particularly good at keeping quiet for long, “Lady Bayfolin, you are bonded to a wolf, right? Is it here with you? What’s it called? Can I meet it?”
Under the table, Tomar’s foot connected sharply with Taowren’s shin. “Don’t be so presumptuous!” He snarled in a whisper.
Bayfolin however smiled, none too pressed by the question.
“I’m afraid not, I left my wolf on the other side of the Egress Trees.” Bayfolin shook her head, wild hair dancing over her shoulders. “Genja does not enjoy the warm weather this far south.”
The Egress Trees, Taowren knew, were ancient trees that could act as gateways to different parts of the realm. They functioned as a very fast means of transportation. However, the amount of spiritual energy required to use them meant that only very powerfully Gifted people tended to use them.
“There will be plenty of chances to meet the Okan Clan’s wolves this summer, Taown.” Lord Tanno said with a meaningful look. He had not yet officially told his nephew that he was also invited; Taowren’s face instantly lit up.
“You mean, I'm coming too?” The youth grinned from ear to ear. Finally, I’m actually leaving the manor!
“It is high time you were introduced to the other members of our alliance.” Lord Tanno replied with a nod.
If Taowren could have danced out of his seat in that moment, he would have.
*
Although Taowren had spent the last four years confined to the boundaries of the Nightingale clan’s province, he had spent most of his childhood wandering around the realm with his mother’s troupe of travelling tumblers and artists. They were members of the Mohan tribe, travelling nomads that originated from the west beyond the Iron Lands, but had been displaced by war several centuries ago. Taowren had spent much of his young life travelling hills and visiting different villages and cities along their excursions. All this abruptly came to an end when his mother fell fatally ill in his fifteenth year, resulting in his adoption into the noble Nightingale clan.
This was no secret and of no surprise to anyone in the household—Taowren was not shy about his opinions, wants or needs. Actually, Taowren was not shy about anything much at all. So, in the month leading up to the outing, Taowren was restless, excitable and—if you asked poor Tomar, who spent nearly every waking minute trying to coach him in noble etiquette and manners—completely unbearable. If Tomar found something unbearable, everyone else not only knew about it but felt the brunt of his Sour Plum temper.
This meant that when the day finally arrived to make the excursion up to the mountains in the north, everyone was impatient to leave. Bags had been packed, repacked, and then checked and packed again. Horses were gathered, saddled and ready. There was only one person who was not happy seeing the carts and wagons and procession ready to go, and that person was poor little Meimin.
“But why can’t I go?! Why?!” She wailed at the top of her lungs for perhaps the fiftieth time that morning.
“We’ve told you already, Min-min,” Tomei’s delicate black brows were wrinkled into an uncommon frown, “you have the Gift and you’re only five--Okan law states no Gifted child outside of their clan may enter the mountains before they turn twenty-one.”
“But why?!” She stomped her foot. “Even Taown gets to go this time! He didn’t last time!”
Tomar folded his arms and glared sternly at his little sister. “You can’t come, Meimin. You’re too little, and that’s final,” he said, imperiously. Meimin seemed almost breathlessly furious. Quick as a flash, she whipped off one of her tiny sandals and made as if it throw it at her brother, before hurling it at the floor and throwing herself into Tomei’s skirts, knotting her fists up in the fabric.
“You hate me! You all just hate me!” Her muffled lamentations continued to rise from her sister’s robe as the three of them saw the fight go out of her small shoulders.
“That isn’t it…” Taowren said, crouching down beside his two cousins and patting the little girl gently on the head. “…Actually, why can’t Gifted children come to the mountain?” He looked from Tomei who was pinching the bridge of her nose like she had a headache, to Tomar who looked like he was about to pull his hair out in exasperation.
“How do you not know this? Do you never listen in lessons?” He half-shouted, half-sneered.
“Do stop shouting, Tomar! You’re going to frighten Min-min!” Tomei glared at her twin. She was following Taowren’s example and gently stroking the small girl’s hair as her hysterics slowly subsided.
Taowren could only shrug at the accusation. Listening to lectures was one skill Taowren truly lacked. Sitting still was another. Following rules he didn’t understand the point of was one more, as was retaining any information he didn’t immediately find interesting (which was different to simply not listening! Not that anyone believed him when he said this). Most of all, he could not focus on anything his stuffy cousin thought was important enough to shout about.
“Fine. Fine!” Tomar harrumphed, pulling Meimin brusquely out of his sister’s skirts and dumping her in Taowren’s lap, causing him to sit down on the hard wooden floor with a bump.
“Both of you listen to me—and actually listen. Gifted people are susceptible to the pull of the mountain’s magic—because the peaks are openings to the spirit realm—and because the mountains are full of powerful spirits that might bewitch an untrained Gifted person and steal their soul! Okay! Do you get it?” His hands were on his hips as he glowered down at them both, a vein bulging in his forehead. He had his fathers fine features, but his permanent distaste had deepened the crease between his brows to that of one twice his age, and the nostrils of his arrow straight nose into a flare of one who had just stood in their own overfull chamber pot.
Taowren blinked at him and was about to make a quip to infuriate his cousin even further, but could feel poor little Meimin shaking as she fought more tears. Instead he planted his hands on her shoulders and spun her around so she was looking up at him.
“I promise to bring back the biggest souvenir I find in the mountains, okay?” Taowren said, all smiles. He used one hand to wipe the tears from her face and added, “At least you get a summer of peace and quiet with great-aunt and no Tomar to yell at you? I have to stay with him the entire time. I already have a headache—it won’t be any fun at all!”
This seemed to finally pacify the child and she bobbed her head, the two buns her hair was pulled into bouncing with her. She wiped her eyes on her arm, inspected the blotted fabric, then looked up into her cousin’s eyes with a serious expression.
“It better be the biggest present!” She said, “If it’s not then I’m gonna put frogs in your bed!” With that business done, she jumped up and scampered off—presumably to find an actual frog to threaten him with.
Taowren watched the little girl vanish off of the porch with a smile, and then sighed and looked at Tomar. The taller youth was still glowering at him with his hands on his hips, several strands of inky hair hanging about that bulging vein where they had come loose from his top knot in his anger.
“You’re not going to lecture me the entire way there are you…?” Taowren asked with a half-smile. “Otherwise, I might just stay behind with Min-min. You’re no fun at all, Tomo.”
“Don’t call me that! And I wouldn’t lecture you if you retained anything in your empty head by yourself,” Tomar grumped, abruptly spinning on his heel and storming off, “if you make a mockery of us at the summit it’ll be me that Father blames, you know!“
Taowren could only sigh in reply. Maybe if there weren’t so many complicated rules, no one would be offended by nonsense and everyone would have a much nicer time. But who was he to dictate the ways of the noble classes? He sighed again as he helped Tomei to her feet and they went to check on the baggage one final time. He owed his uncle a great deal for taking him in and looking after him, so he would do his best.
It was just a pity that Taowren’s idea of doing his best followed a completely different train of logic to the rest of the noble classes.
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