Night's Edge Monastary: Chapel <Forest District>
- The chapel has been brought back to its original glory, an airy chamber with benches arranged in rows for the worshipful and an alms-box by the heavy doors, a heavy red curtain dividing a small entryway from the worship area proper. The chapel itself is dominated by seven stained glass windows set high in the wall niches just below the vaulted ceiling, each depicting a new scene, a story that flows from left to right, from the entrance up to the nave.
- The greatest testament to the glassmaker's art is at the chapel's nave, however, a full six feet across and shining brightly when the sun reigns outside. Depicted is the form of a great white dragon, surrounded in a halo of golden light, with eyes and claws of glittering black onyx. In the floor, underneath the dragon's watchful gaze, the half-black, half-white circle of the Marked is picked out in tile, surrounded by a circle of brass hammered in to shine in the light that spills from the great window.
- A wide archway, guarded by the ubiquitous heavy biinwood doors of the manor, leads west into the dining hall, while a small banded door near the nave leads out into the rectory and the private gardens of the manor's master.
Syton turns away from the departed noblewoman and begins to make his way down the row of pews, back towards the courtyard. He looks down at his feet as he walks, rather caught up in his own thoughts, at the moment. Taran goes unnoticed for the time being.
"So...three of four," says Taran quietly. "I rather thought you would be one."
Syton looks up to find Taran, appearing a bit surprised for a moment. He blinks a few times and recovers. A smile comes to his face. "Master Taran," Syton says sounding almost playful, "you're beginning to sound like Faeyd... What, exactly, are you speaking of?"
Taran sighs. "If you are going to pretend ignorance, I am not going to waste my time," he replies quietly, with a decided lack of patience. Indeed, a shift in his stance takes the bard from a hunter's quiet stillness to a man about to leave the premises.
"So I'm supposed to know what 'three of four' means?" Syton drops the playfulness from his voice and regards Taran cooly. He tilts his head and takes a step closer to the bard. Speaking quickly, he continues, "If time is of such great importance, then please do away with the riddles and speak plainly."
"I would have expected you to," Taran replies calmly. "Four called Luminary right now. Two are easy, you were a probable third. The fourth..." he shrugs. "I am sure I will know in time."
"I'm just Faeyd's student, and not even that, yet." Syton shakes his head slowly. "But a member of the Luminary? Hardly." He pivots away from Taran thoughtfully and looks up at a stained glass window. When he speaks, it is in a slow and musing manner, spoken as much to himself as to Taran. "I know that Countess Sweetwater was once Luminary, as was the Duke Seamel and Ester Shardwood. Ester had lead me to believe that there really was no Luminary anymore. Just remnants. Though with the way Faeyd has been recruiting, I guess he intends to reform it."
"There is a need, would you not agree?" Taran notes softly. "For those who fall through the existing nets. Though why you don't take the mark..." he shrugs. "There are many reasons in both directions, I suppose."
"A great need," Syton agrees with a diligent nod of his head. He turns back to square his shoulders with Taran, shrugging at him. "As for the Mark, there are a great many reasons to take it, and many reasons not to. For now, no one seems concerned one way or another. I am confident that will change, but it buys us both some time to make up our minds."
Taran raises an eyebrow. "My decision was made a long time ago, and the price I chose to pay for it - both public and private. You, however, have been rather strangely lost."
"Lost?" Syton considers the term for a moment before nodding. "I suppose that describes me well enough. It takes effort to stay lost, though... Well-meaning people are always trying to find you." He dismisses the thought easily. "The truth is, Master Taran, that I am still undecided about a great many things. If I am lost, it is because I am looking for something."
"Lost in here," Taran replies, tapping one finger to the side of his head. "And here," and the finger taps his chest. "Anyone else trying to find you is pointless; you find yourself, or you do not." He tilts his head. "What else would you be looking for?"
"How very true..." Syton murmurs thoughtfully. He scratches the side of his head as he considers his answer. "I look for the things that all men look for. Purpose. Meaning. My place in the world." A brief pause. "But of course, I am not like all men. I'm looking for guidance, when it comes to my gift. I'm looking for the knowledge and wisdom I need to use it, and to use it properly."
"As it is also mine, I might be able to help," Taran replies. "Faeyd can teach you the technicality - what it is, how to master it. I do not think he can teach you what it means, however; he is more than we are and it affects him differently as a result. So I will tell you this - find out who you are. Do that first. Go away if you must, away from all others, go where you can *think* for yourself, but find yourself. If you find your power first, that will become who you are. I have yet to meet a good mage of that ...category."
"That is good advice, Master Taran. I thank you for it." A slight frown touches Syton's lips, and he shakes his head. "I was waiting for some peace, so I could do just that, but now I am beginning to think such a peace does not exist... I suppose I will have to get away anyway, and trust that things here will continue as they have, even in my absence."
"They seem to," Taran replies. "As to peace...there is some in knowing who you are and what you want. It is not a thing you can trust anyone else to decide for you, and it is remarkable how few people seem to understand that."
Syton shifts in his armor, tugging at his jerkin. "People are far too eager to take easy answers, Master Taran, but I have found--as I imagine you have--that there is little to be gained from an easy answer. Through struggle and challenge, we find answers that actually mean something. It is past time that I focus such attention on myself."
Taran studies Syton thoughtfully. "I've known what I am for ...a very long time," he says. "My power still gets away from me at times; there is no peace then, I will grant you that, and if that is your trouble then aye, learn and train it. But purpose? Best found alone. That is strongest...you seem to echo Faeyd too readily and I find that disturbing. I would know why."
"I find it hard to echo a man I have barely spoken with," Syton says, giving Taran a questioning look, "So I am not entirely sure what you mean." He glances to the door quickly before continuing, "I tend to be a man who keeps his own company, and a man who favors diplomacy over honesty. But what I am not, is a follower... at least, not without an exceptional reason."
"Aye," Taran replies, his tone dry. "But I am keeping you." He steps away from the door.
"That you are," Syton replies, sounding amused. He takes a step towards the door and turns once more to Taran. "Master Taran, thank you for speaking with me tonight. It was... illuminating." He nods his thanks before adding, "Good night, Master Taran. Farewell."
Syton strolls over to the door, opens it carefully, and breezes out into the courtyard.
Return to Season 6 (2007)