The Steward and the Sorcerer by James Peart (small books to read .TXT) 📗

Dell, Daaynan had been cast in the role of Jareth’s guardian, a role he had not always been able to fulfil due to his early ambition to become a sorcerer.  Still, Jareth had always liked him, and as far as he could remember never expressed disappointment at his not being around at times when he was needed.  Jareth had been an independent child, self-contained, possessed of a defiant nature, the rebellious period of his childhood only serving to highlight these qualities.  He had taken to wandering about the Northern Earth from an early age, riding the large thoroughfares on his horse to places he had read and dreamed about, unheeding of the dangers others told him he might encounter there.  He loved to visit Brinemore, captivated by the size and scale of the city and the various activities of its inhabitants that had been expressly forbidden in Bottom Dell such as horseracing and riverside gambling.  He visited the many opium dens scattered throughout the city where he held conversation with many of the customers who lived fascinating lives- to him at least.  Jareth’s parents had urged Daaynan to have a talk with him over this, take him in hand, but by then he had begun his training as a Druid and had little time to spare for anything else.  Maybe now he could exert some influence over the boy.

Jareth stood at the entrance to the keep, a smile breaking out on his face when the drawbridge lowered and Daaynan emerged from its interior.

“Hail, cousin!”  Daaynan said.  The younger man stood looking at him for a moment before answering.  The Druid was covered head to toe in a black broad-cloak with a large hood draped over his face, partially drawn back to reveal his features.  At almost seven feet tall, with a large build from his broad, powerful shoulders on down, he cut an imposing presence.  The broad planes and angles of his face served to heighten this impression, his look dark, almost severe.  But Jareth didn’t seem intimidated.  He marched toward the other with a spring in his step, offering his hand.  “And hail to you, cousin!”  Jareth was young and seemed full of energy.  He carried a brash appearance, enhanced perhaps by a mane of long, straw blond hair that was swept down to one side of his face.  His features were sufficiently even to give him strength of looks, marred only by the irregularity of an over-long nose and ears that stuck out slightly.  He looked around him at the gardens and fields and up at the towering façade of the castle, an approving regard to his expression.  “You’ve kept the place well.”

The Druid shook his head slowly, indicating the well-tended lawns with a sweep of one hand.  “I am in need of a proper gardener, someone who knows what they are about so that I can tend to my other duties.”

Jareth followed his motion.  “I don’t know, I would say you’re managing just fine.”

“Yes, but it takes up too much of my time.  Care for the job?”

The younger man looked taken aback, unsure of what he would say next.  That was a rare thing in the child he had been familiar with, he smiled to himself.  Maybe that certainty, that take-everything-on nature had changed with his development into a man.  He would see.

“I didn’t think the Druids took on helpers?” he queried.

“They don’t, but times change.”

“At any rate, that is not why I have come to you today.  There are things we need to discuss, about people back home, about my new role in Bottom Dell.”

“My cousin has an agenda.  That’s not so surprising.  But let’s not stand out here all day, jawing into the wind; come inside and I’ll fix you a half of whiskey along with something to eat in more comfortable surroundings.  You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?” he teased.

“A mouthful of whiskey would go down well,” he responded, ignoring the taunt, “maybe more than a mouthful?”

Together they walked inside, Daaynan leading his cousin into the building’s vast, domed hall and through a doorway at the other end that led into a series of interconnected rooms until they arrived at a large chamber inviting them with an arched, open entrance.  Jareth gazed at the intricate depictions carved into the rock along the walls they travelled past.  There was a look to his face that approached something like wonder.  It had replaced his previous expression, which Daaynan hadn’t been able to fully identify.  It was as if he were studying something which, for reasons of his own must remain a secret.  He hadn’t trusted the look and it made him more curious as to why his cousin had chosen to visit him now.  He would get the answer in time, of course, Jareth had never been one for secrets.

“I won’t ask you if you miss Bottom Dell,” Jareth said, gazing at the depictions.

“It was not really my place,” Daaynan admitted.

“Joren and Sera miss you though.”  Joren and Sera were his brother and sister, Jareth’s aunt and uncle.

“Do they?”  The older man’s voice carried an amused undertone.

“They fight like they always have done, all the family does, like they did with you when you were around, but they seem sad whenever I bring up the subject of you, almost as if they regret their behaviour.  The fighting you know, it’s only because they live in each other’s back pockets.  Given time and distance they would realise how close they all really are.”

“The images on the stones are of the world Fein More used to inhabit,” he told Jareth, changing the subject.

“The Faerie world?”

“Not as far back as that.  This world came into being later and was more of a halfway state between life in the Northern Earth as we know it and life in the age of Faerie.  The figures you see are men and women engaged in various activities.  Their bodies are different to ours, hence the speculative nature of the depictions.”

“I see.”

There