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This is the story of Drusian Bette Erdofei, comrade to Lana Goreillfei, and currently an Official Staffbearer. It tells of her struggle to become a Staffbearer apprentice at the age of 12. [I have completely reordered it and added several scenes 9/12/01; Made into Chapter format 9/17/01]
`"You are staying in Three
Pass and continuing your magical tuition. I will not have you
wasting your Gift to become an adventurer!" Pa's words echoed
in my head as I stomped up the stairs to my room to change after
practice. I knew from the last tirade that argument was useless.
Pa had gone beyond reason, to what Erdo called "that parent
place." He had long ago convinced himself that his version
of truth was correct and no longer even heard contrary facts.
I couldn't help wanting to respond, so I muttered my response
while stomping up the stairs to my room, my sanctuary.
"Firstly," I replied
to the imaginary, reasonable Pa beside me, "the Staffbearers
will train my Gift. They will even help me focus it better than
you ever could.
"Secondly, they are not just
a bunch of adventurers. They are the loyal protectors of the Queen-on-Earth--who
I remind you is your Queen too--storytellers, musicians, and historians.
There hasn't been an attack on the Palace in centuries, so you
don't even need to worry about me."
I gently closed the door of the
room my sister Irdele and I shared behind me and slumped onto
the floor next to the sole window. I fiddled with my pocketflute,
playing a tune that was nothing at all. I knew he was wrong. His
selfish desire for the glory brought on by training my Gift had
overcome reason, simply because I was his only Gifted child.
Out the window beside me was a
view of the Stonebuilder Mountains, a view which I knew all too
well. Snow-capped peaks, rocky cliffs, and forest vistas held
no charm for me. What I wished to see were the green fields and
broad rivers of Cloverea Proper, the spires and stained-glass
windows of the Palace, and the crowded streets of The City.
I turned my thoughts from Pa's
unreasonable stance, not wanting to contemplate something so depressing
for so long, and to Richette's last comment to me. I had left
her side and joined the others at warm-ups when I realized what
she had said. She had called me sister. Staffbearers call each
other sister--except for their comrades, who are even closer and
for whom the formal address is my other-self. By calling me sister
she had honored me beyond my dreams, assuming not only that I
would make apprentice, but that after four years of study at the
Palace I would pass the great Testing at sixteen and become a
secondary Staffbearer with comrade.
Did she have some knowledge then,
some foresight of the future honors I would gather? Had either
Elisabette or Kaeldre whispered in her ear that I would be indeed
become a successful Staffbearer, closer to her than any but her
comrade? I cannot ask her now, all things being as they are. I
do not know why I did not ask her before these days of turmoil
and death.
<Great,> thought Erdo as
he heard the yelling from the kitchen, <they've been fighting
again.> He finished skinning his day's catch of querrels and
hurried upstairs to Dru's room. The door was closed, so he knocked,
respectful of the desire for privacy her burgeoning womanhood
had brought on her.
"Dru?" He called when
no answer came.
"Erdo?" She replied,
hope in her voice. "Come in."
She sat on the floor between her
bed and the window, idly tracing the quilt patterns. Her full-bodied
dark brown hair half-hid her face, one sad midnight blue eye visible
staring at some distant point. She looked more like their mother
than any of her siblings, with her delicate Nomad eyebrows and
rounded cheekbones.
She looked up and essayed a smile,
but it was not echoed in her eyes. "Come to put me back in
my place?" She asked.
He hated to see her wallowing self-pity.
"Drusian Bette Erdofei, stop wallowing this instant and face
it like a Staffbearer!"
Startled by his pompous act she
giggled and said "Yes, brother." with false meekness.
She could not resist adding a sardonic comment, however, and added
"If by Staffbearer you mean Holy Camp girl, that is."
Though she thought, <That is the second time today I have been
accorded the honor of being a Staffbearer by address. Perhaps
Wavedancer sends me a good omen?>
Satisfied that he had dragged her
out of her mental mulch he sat down in front of her. "Look,
just because you're the only one of his daughters with any sense,
Gift, or beauty, Pa cannot bear to see you go. If Irdele or Alda
had wanted to be something other than a farm-wife he'd have let
them go without a second thought. It's because he loves you the
most that he's being an idiot."
"You always say that to truly
love is to let go!" She glared at him, daring him to defy
his own platitudes.
"And he will, just you wait
and see."
