School in Hastelan, chapter 44. (Patreon)

Here we are. Finished and on the books; thrill as butterflies wing their way all over the plotline in ways I doubt even I can fully foresee! As always, please enjoy.

Routine was steady and comforting.

It was also shattered utterly after our dishes were cleaned to the cook's satisfaction.

I was to read this day, and continue learning letters, and the others were to join me or to work their gifts as their skill allowed. Now, I was no longer alone in being able to choose my path of learning; others had taken advantage of the days I worked to study and so caught me.

I was happy of the fact. I was not special, despite what others said, and the more stars shining in the sky, the greater the ease with which a watcher could lose sight of one single star.

Even so, that had not happened yet; I was still being seen, even in the bright light of day. Others were whispering of the sign, and though they did not know it yet, they spoke of me.

Others knew, or knew well enough.

"Today we shall speak of signs," Lady Matrona stated. She waited until everyone quieted, then began in earnest. "The Goddess sometimes sees fit to give us signs, as she wills. These signs are to help us with difficult decisions or to warn us of tragedies to come. Such signs usually take the form in dreams, as the Goddess is loathe to interfere directly in our lives. Some rare events in which she has done so, are aberrations of the natural order both great and small.

Such aberrations are only experienced for matters of great import, even as they seem innocent. Some of these include smoking mountains, shaking earth, lighting in clear skies, and the unusual movements of animals great and small."

There it was. My stalwart guardian was clear on what we had seen... or heard. She also seemed to have little doubt on who the sign was for; her eyes roved the others, but flitted back to me often.

Were it me, I would be looking to my peers, and not my students, for such answers as could be given. Lady Matrona was cut from different cloth, it seemed.

My bag, my charm, my talisman, burned to my inner sense. It was a wonder others could not feel the blazing of it. Surely if they could, those who did would say something... would they not?

I gave Lady Matrona my full attention, even as the expected question was asked from elsewhere: "Even the birds?"

"Even the birds," Lady Matrona answered quickly, with as much weight as she could muster. "The birds themselves are a flag by the Goddess, that something has happened. To that end, I would like each of you to write down such dreams as you remember. It is almost certain one of us holds the answer, and the time indicates a dream sign rather than a warning."

And there it was. What could I do, save my duty?

"Lady Matrona, what if we have no recollection of such dreams?"

The good lady's response was gentle, yet as savage as a beast stalking prey: "Then your dream cannot be a sign; signs were meant to be both remembered and shared with others.  In that instance, you may do such studies as you will with a clear heart."

My heart would not be clear of course, as I could remember such detail from last night that even now, I would swear I had visited that sun dappled glade and the tree held within.

It was with a heavy heart that I moved to stand before my mentor. "Lady Matrona, I should like to document my own dream within the book you have given me. May I be excused to do so?"

Not even the most dedicated carried such a book and ink around upon them - did they? I had not seen such before. I should not like to write the account twice in any event.

Lady Matrona certainly did not do such; no precious ink stained her clothing. Lady Serapis might carry ink upon her person after all, I should check when next the chance presented itself.

"You may, and you may even do the work there if you like, provided you present your book to me before class ends."

I bowed my understanding and strode from the hall in as swift a pace as I dared; the more time I saved here, the more time I would have to write.

Behind me some others also begged the opportunity to write with their own materials, rather than upon the floor with charcoal, and such permission was readily granted.

It seemed somewhat silly to write any account one might wish to keep with charcoal upon a floor scrubbed dutifully every night, yet Lady Matrona must have her reasons for doing so.

Even so, I was joined by a tide of those who would write on paper; lady Matrona was not sparing in her permissions this day.

My chamber was as I left it. It smelled strongly of the dried autumn flowers I had pressed for their scents and old books. Lady Serapis would have approved with a nod in an instant, had she been present.

The only question was, why did those flowers hang their scent around me so strongly? They were dried and long since faded this morning.

The truth was somewhat different.

There was a patch of flowers growing. Somehow they had crept up the outer wall and were even now invading my window; I would have sworn they were not present this morning, when I firmly close the sash.

The breeze flowing through the open window was welcome and heavily scented; the buds which opened as I stared, no doubt agape, were a brilliant pink with streaks of white along them. The pattern was unknown to me, and it was winter in any case; did any flowering plant bloom in winter? I should learn if it could be so.

I shut my chamber door and approached the plant. There seemed to be no thorns, and were it poison I should already be doomed. I plucked a small branch from it, a small sample to press as I had done so many other flowers this year, and a small amount of pure white sap oozed from the wound I'd given it.

I'd not felt guilty about harming a plant before, so the sudden onrush was a surprise.

Even so the plant did nothing untoward, and even as I poked the sap, nothing happened. I was not certain what I was expecting.

I sat and opened my journal. I should leave out no detail, yet should my description of those boys who had haunted my dream be as they were? Lady Matrona would certainly put the faces to rights if I wrote them as they were.

It was not a lie if I simply described them and did not write that I had seen both before, was it? After all, elsewhere in my journal, the encounter was noted, and pointing a finger at the two outright felt as if I were betraying them.

I decided, I would describe both in detail, yet leave out where I had seen either. This would allow others to draw their own conclusions without falsehood.

And so I put pen to paper, and wrote my account... an account with grew in length quite quickly, as I added words to create the painting of the wood and the dappled glade, and the tree hidden within. The time for learning was almost over as I sanded the last page in the book and began to blow gently upon it, the sunlight wan through the still open window.

The vine had not grown in the time since, that I could tell. It still bloomed strongly, and might well be a sign all to itself... but a sign of what? I did not know.

I should look for the tellings of past signs in the library, and what those may mean; old signs may unlock the meaning to the ones which beset me now.

Some time along the way of this, I had lost all doubt within myself regarding my dream. It was prideful of me to think that my dream was the sign, yet I found myself unable to deny the prideful notion.

The last page was now dry enough; I could shut the book, and so I did. Coming from my chamber, I joined a smaller throng than the one which had followed me some turns of the glass before. If I hurried, I might yet get some study time of my own before our dinner.

There was no conversation among us as we tramped back to the main hall; the air seemed uneasy between us - or rather between myself and the others. Even more so than in earlier days. I knew not what act to take in order to resolve it, or even if it was something which should be resolved. Wise counsel was needed here as well, and it was another task I must see to if I wished to have proper relations with my peers.

There were some few people who had turned their work in before me, and some few that had stayed and were even now writing such as they might on scrolls that lady Matrona had no doubt provided, with her gentle assistance. They used a communal ink pot, and the paper looked to be of low quality, yet such tales as my peers could manage would not be lost when the servants of the place cleansed the floor.

I had not seen them, and so I was certain they cleaned the hall at night, while the rest of us slumbered.

I placed my book on my mentor's empty chair, and sat back at my usual spot as others behind me followed my example. Lady Matrona took note of it, even in the middle of correcting lady Hisoph on some letter error I did not care to look into. Some did not like others looking too closely at their affairs, and many were watching.

My own book was where I had left it of course, and now I could read as I willed. If my swirling thoughts would allow it, of course... which it seemed they would not.

Even so, I had managed to learn a thing or two about the great flood which beset the great desert in the past, leading to much hardship. I had pondered what I could do to help, and those like me from the past had settled on binding the sand together in order to make buildings and irrigation channels, some of which were still in use today, or so the book proudly claimed.

The book itself was written some hundred years ago, so those claims should now be false, yet even so, it was assistance. Those chosen of water which had been present at the time had proven more useful of course, and I did not begrudge such a thing, yet even so I felt more could be done with the gift the Goddess had granted me. A lesson for the future, as all things should be.

"Alright, you are free to do as you will," lady Matrona stated, turning back to her chair and gathering those tales we had written. "Remember the bell."

A clear dismissal, and my sign to go to the garden.

No, even better... I could go to the grounds outside my chamber window and check upon the vine, and whatever else might be growing there. As well as whatever else might be there.

Others began to mix with us, the later years joining us in relative freedom before we were to return for our meal. I should go now, as my friends might have words I could not challenge, should they follow.

The doors opened as I drew close, some others having performed the work for me. I squeezed through and began to follow the wall. I would circle back and reach the spot we all took pains to meet at when time allowed.

I had not been this way before, and so the twists and turns provided by hedge, tree, and flower slowed me. Far more than it should, mayhap.

Even so, I found the place, and the plant in question. It had grown along the wall, as such things were wont to do, basking in the light proffered freely by the sun and it journeyed by. Yet, for all that, it only covered the space of one chamber, and I could see the creeping growth that had crowded my lone window.

Other than where it had grown, there seemed naught unusual about it. Save mayhap the small birds flitting about its branches, sticking beaks in the flowers with reckless abandon and wings fluttering so they could not be seen. I knew not the type; some sort of fince, mayhap.

There was also another presence here, staring at the plant in some clear dismay. An older man, wrinkled as those back home were, from long hours in sun and rain, his stained floppy hat in both hands, muttering to himself. At the sight of me, he bowed his gnarled back further: "My Lady, a pleasant day to you."

"A pleasant day to you sir. What ails you?"

His answer was expected, yet chilling: "This vine, my Lady. I am the tender of these grounds. I have some help, yet I decide which plant goes where in these gardens. Yet someone must have planted this vine without the telling, either one of my students or one of your peers. It has grown fast and seems to invade the space of others."

"A wonder, of a sort. How fast could such a thing grow?"

The man pointed to the ground, and to the slight disruption. "I would say this to be the growth of a fortnight. The roots seem to go deep, and the grasses around have all grown to coat the planted soil."

Or the seeds had been thrust up from the soil without any planting hand. I would not utter such.

"Even so, it seems a beauty, and I am tempted to leave it. If only to see how it behaves hence. It should wither, as all things do, yet I would not have expected such growth at all. Even at my age, I still have much to learn."

A fellow scholar, this man. I could agree with such musings. "I should keep an eye on it myself, and yet I like the birds. They seem cheery sorts.

"Indeed!" he exclaimed, leaning into his craft. "They help the bees of the summer, sticking their beaks in as they do. They are less noisy than those others of the morning as well. I shall have to report this, and ask for counsel among the sisters."

The man scrubbed his bearded chin with a grubby hand and began to mutter again.

Far be it for me to suggest he not do his job properly... even as I knew this would mean something more to those who knew better. I would not lie. "Sir, if I might. the plant is before my own chamber, and the tendrils even now climb inside the window. If I might, I should like to cut them to ensure the portal can close at night, so that I might remain warm. Would that harm your own efforts in some way?"

"No, no, of course not my Lady, you should not worry. If one of my plants displeases you, you may of course remove it."

I would not disrespect anyone's efforts in such a way. "Of course I would not dream of such a thing. I shall simply look to my own comfort, and you may do as you will."

The plan to safely dispose of the plant was dashed, if it had ever been possible at all. Now lady Matrona would know of this as well, and more questions that I could not answer would be asked. There was naught for me to do now but wait, and enjoy such freedom as the day granted me.

I retraced my steps to leave the muttering elder alone, and ran into a more agreeable situation; lady Nells, puttering about this side of the garden, clearly looking for something. She lunged over and took my hand in hers. "Ah, there you are. The entire school is astir; why are you hiding here?"

"I was not hiding from anyone or anything. I was simply checking upon the growth planted this way."

Lady Nells pulled, as was her wont: "Right, as you will, come on, we're late!"

What event could I be late for? I knew of no commitment I had made.

As a rampaging bull, she continued: "Did lady Matrona have you write your dream? Of course she did, they would not forget you. At any rate, all of us, the entire school, were made to write their dreams. Even the scullions! Such an event is unprecedented!"

It was not of course, as lady Matrona had mentioned such a thing had happened before, many times in the past. Even so, lady Nells was not one to let such a small thing finish her uttering before they had fairly begun.

Lady Nells was pulling me to our usual place, the very place I wanted to go.

"Did you have a dream last night, lady Nells?"

The good Lady pondered for a moment, even in the midst of our run, before shaking her head. "Not one I can fully note. I wrote as much as I dared, yet I am certain my account is not the one sought after."

There it was of course, the thought, the wedge that will drive itself between us in a haze of green and yellow.

The others, peers all, leapt from our path as we entered the more populated area near the main doors. Many had some word or other to say, yet lady Nells did not stay to hear them, nor did she allow me that courtesy. Some even made to follow us, and then did not as full recognition dawned.

I approved, no good could come of such a thing, and lady Nells would be as she was always, despite the chastisement of others.

In the fullness of time, as we neared, she at last let me go and straightened her raiment, approaching the small and secluded bower with unhurried grace and refinement which would make lady Serapis green with envy.

Envy might well be a dish served to many this day.

Yet, as I cleared the hedge lined rows and made my way onto the cobbles, my friends turned to greet us both with nothing save smiles writ upon their faces. Lady Nell's shout of "I found her!" was not needed as the others gave more polite and measured greetings.

"Yes, thank you lady Nells. Good day lady 'Rine, how does the day find you?"

"Good day lady 'Rine, did you enjoy our writing for the day?"

Even lady Istha was bright with cheer; and she did not care for writing. Had she done it as well? Did she have a dream? "Good day, I am well. You all had to write as well?"

"We did," lady Serapis intoned. "Our dreams were of some interest to our elders."

I should be bold. "I am certain mine will be as well, for all my protests."

"Oh? we should exchange tales of our dreams then," lady Metis opined, her face shifting coy.

This was not to happen. "I should not like to."

Lady Metis leaned in, her smile widening: "Why? Does your dream mortify you? Is there aught in it we should not know?"

"Lady Metis," lady Delia began, clear warning in her tone.

Lady Metis waved her off of course, turning away. "I know, I know. The truth is that we have already discussed this matter lady 'Rine, and all our dreams were the same in a fundamental way. We all traveled through a forest and into a dappled glade, where the sun held sway on one side, and the moon held sway on the other... and in the center was a sapling of surpassing beauty. After beholding such a wonder, we awoke, feeling refreshed, which of course you know."

They had acted in high spirits all day, even lady Serapis. This much I suppose I did know.

"My dream was slightly different. I did as you, and then entered the glade. I beheld the sapling, and the sun and moon, and... was able to approach it." I should tell them unvarnished truth, yet if I did so, might they not make more of the presence of the two boys than I would like? Having a dream about another could be... misconstrued, could it not?

"What happened then?" Lady Delia asked. Around my were my friends, their faces now painted with eager delight.

I could not. "Two shadowy presences approached me, and I felt no fear despite it."

"As well you should not," lady Metis scoffed. She was promptly quieted by lady Nells.

"Then of course, I awoke, feeling refreshed. So not so very different from your own experience."

"...I see." lady Delia muttered, sounding as disappointed as the others must feel. Then she rallied: "Even so, you got farther than the rest of us. So all we need do, is quest for this tree, and our questions will be answered!"

I did not think such a quest would be how our questions would be answered, yet I would yield to greater knowledge in the matter... should it reveal itself.

Instead, I would be the voice of reason: "We will not receive permission for any such quest."

"Indeed," lady Serapis agreed. "If any questing is to be done, only the most experienced of us would go... the search for signs of the Goddess is no mere frivolity. Only the greatest among us will qualify."

That was reassuring, in a way. "How would anyone who had not dreamed as we have find the sapling, or those around it?"

"I would not know," lady Delia replied in clear dismissal. "I would assume the Goddess would guide them, if she were so inclined. Who could know the mind of the Goddess?"

A fair point to raise. Yet if that were so, why send a dream at all? Why not send words or a messenger from above, and remove all potential for failure? Truly, the thoughts of the Goddess were passing strange to us mere mortals.

I resolved again to leave such parsing for my betters. This would lead to greater happiness on my part, at the least. Those others who had gained a new problem, could look after themselves - I had my hands full with simply learning.

The others of course, would not let such wonderful gossip go easily.

I would enjoy the day, myself: "Come, let us talk of these matters as we walk. Let us be active and see what sights the day yet has in store for us."

"Well said," lady Istha agreed. "I for one could use a good stretch."

Some seemed more reluctant than others, yet none gainsayed us as we began, side by side upon the path at as sedate a pace as we were able.