The river always seemed near to hand, but through some trick of geographical perspective, it appeared to grow no nearer, even after a full morning's ride. Regardless, Mauritane's spirits began to lift as the sun rose, taking some of the chill from the air. The wind shifted to their backs. Mauritane began to relax in his saddle, letting Streak find his own way, and the others fell in line behind him. For several hours they simply rode, without speaking, letting Streak guide them toward the ever-distant Ebe.
Honeywell was the first to hear the trees. As the road descended into the valley, groves of pine and spruce became more and more frequent, until eventually the path was lined on both sides by dusty green branches, some tall enough to block out the sun.
"Did you say something?" asked Honeywell, pulling forward to pose the question to Mauritane.
"No," said Mauritane.
Honeywell pricked his long, pointed ears. "That. Do you hear it?"
Mauritane cocked his head to the side and listened. There were soft voices speaking, but they were coming from the side of the road and not any of the travelers. Mauritane squinted into the trees and frowned. "It's just the trees," he said.
Satterly rode up alongside them. "What are those voices?" he said. "It sounds like there's a whole crowd out there, but I can't see anyone."
"It's the trees," said Honeywell. "They're talking."
"Are you serious?" said Satterly, a wide grin appearing on his face.
"Yes," said Mauritane, "but don't talk to them."
Satterly slowed his horse to a walk and peered at some branches that hung over the road.
"Hello," said the tree. "Isn't it a nice day?"
"It is a nice day, isn't it?" said Satterly. "What's your name?"
He felt Mauritane's hand on his wrist. "Didn't I just say not to speak to the trees?"
"Yes, but they're… trees. What's the problem?"
Mauritane sighed. "You'll see."
"My name is Tree!" said the tree. "Isn't that a nice name? Isn't the sun pretty?"
"Good morning!" said another tree. "So nice to see you!"
"Have a wonderful day!" the first tree said, waving a branch. "Lovely to meet you!"
"The air is fantastic this morning," observed a third.
Other trees joined in, wishing Satterly well, offering kind words of support, inquiring after his family. Soon the entire forest was a cacophony of arboreal babbling and branch fluttering, loud enough to drown out any conversation the travelers might have had. Their one-sided conversations followed the six riders the full length of the forest, their volume never decreasing until the pines and spruce gave way to more rocks and the voices faded into the wind.
"See you another time!" offered a fir on the tree line. "It was so nice to meet you!"
"I am so sorry," muttered Satterly once they were out of range.
"You should be sorry," said Mauritane. "When I give an order, you follow it. The next time you blithely disregard a direct order from me, I'll drag you the rest of the way to the City Emerald. Are we clear?"
"Yes," said Satterly. "Understood. I just… I mean, they're talking trees!"
"I loathe talking trees," said Silverdun. "I absolutely loathe them. I should call you out for doing that." He scowled at Satterly and rode ahead.
"You ought to be more kind to the human," Raieve said. "He finally got the opportunity to interact with his peers."
Even Mauritane smiled at that.
"Very funny," said Satterly. "But I have to ask. Why are there talking trees?"
"What do you mean?" said Mauritane.
"What possible biological justification could there be for talking trees? They have no need to communicate with each other; they don't eat, so they don't need mouths, or tongues, or teeth, or any of the other body parts involved in speech. They never go anywhere or do anything, so they couldn't have anything worthwhile to talk about. So why do they talk at all? It doesn't make any sense."
"The trees do not talk in your world?" said Gray Mave, joining the discussion. "How strange!"
"No. We don't have sentient wildlife in my world hanging around making small talk. That would be considered extremely unusual where I come from."
"Have you done much traveling in Faerie?" said Mauritane.
"No," said Satterly. "Most of my time here's been spent at Crete Sulace."
Mauritane nodded. "Faerie is an old place," he said. "A very old place that was once overflowing with magical essence. There's still magic today, of course, but in the earliest times, the essence was everywhere, freely available.
"The earliest of the Seelie Fae were a capricious race. Once they mastered the art of shaping, anything they could imagine was theirs for the having. They had banquets at every meal, the finest wine, the fairest slave girls, everything they could possibly dream of. There are volumes and volumes written about them in the City Emerald; their histories would take a lifetime to read.
"These exploits sufficed for centuries, but eventually they became bored. Simply living well was not enough. They began experimenting, making changes in the fabric of the world itself; it was called the Great Reshaping. It went on for years, and over time fads and fashions came and went. One year it might be changing the color of the sky, the next year might be building islands in the clouds, the year after that might be creating talking trees."
"What they didn't realize, though," said Raieve, joining in, "was that their creations drained the source essence of the land. They were the stewards of the most powerful magic the universe has ever known, and they squandered it on talking trees."
"It was a more innocent time," said Mauritane.
"It was a stupid time," said Raieve. "It's legends like that that make me glad I'm not from this foolish world."
Mauritane fell silent, letting the others continue to bicker genially, as long as it kept their spirits up. He rode silently, his eyes focused on the Ebe, thinking about the empty spirit jar in his cloak and what it might represent.
Part Two
Once, at the dawn of memory, the two great Faerie kingdoms were one: a massive empire that stretched from the Northern Islands to the desert wastes of the south, from the Eastern Sea to the mountains in the West where the great dragons ruled from their rocky keeps. The emperor Uvenchaud united the wild Fae clans under his iron rule, ushering in the Rauane Envedun-e, the Age of Purest Silver. It was during the Rauane that the Fae philosopher Alpaurle wrote his Magus, the first book of magic. It was during the Rauane that the Great Reshaping took place, when the mountains spoke and the sky rained wine and the flowers sang odes of tender longing to the morning sun. And it was during the Rauane that the Stone Queen, Regina Titania, was born, and it was she that brought that thousand-year reign of peace to an end.
Now Titania was the daughter of a simple farmer from the high country, in a small town called Nyera. Beautiful and poised, wise beyond her years, she brought suitors from all over the Faerie lands to bid for her hand, and she would have none of them.
"I will take the hand," she said, "of the one who will give the very land to me, and no less." At this, her many suitors flushed and scoffed, rolling their eyes. But one man did not. His name was Auberon, and he was a son of the great god, Aba. Aba had many sons and all were forbidden to interfere in the affairs of mortals, but Auberon was smitten with Titania from his first glance. He vowed upon hearing her proclamation that he would present the Faerie land itself to her as a wedding gift.
Auberon went to his father's great palace in the sky; far, far above the land and he knelt, saying, "Great father, all things and all lands are yours, and many are your strengths. I wish but one small land in all the many worlds at your feet. Give it to me and I will ask nothing further for all my days."
Aba, the wise one, looked his son in the eye and a great sadness filled him. "You are my son," he said, "and for that I will always love you, but what you ask, I cannot give."
Auberon stood his ground. "I know, father, that you think me immature and unworthy, but whatever you ask in return, I will give you."