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Matisse frowned. "What's he talking about, Father?"
Dashe shrugged. "Seems that Spirit believes the Aons might work now, for some reason. We've been drawing them wrong all along, or something like that. I can't see how the scholars who designed them could have missed an entire line for every Aon, though."
Matisse doubted that scholars had ever 'designed' the Aons. There was just something to. . .primal about them. They were things of nature. They hadn't been designed-any more than the wind had been designed.
Still, she said nothing. Dashe was a kind and determined man, but he didn't have much of a mind for scholarship. That was fine with Matisse-it had been Dashe's sword, in part, that had saved New Elantris from destruction at the hands of the wildmen. There was no finer warrior in all of New Elantris than her father.
Yet, she did watch with curiosity as Galladon talked about the new line. It was a strange one, drawn across the bottom of the Aon.
And. . .this makes the Aons work? She thought. It seemed like such a simple fix. Could it be possible?
The sound of a cleared throat came from behind them, and they turned, Dashe nearly pulling his sword.
A Seon hung in the air behind them. Not one of the mad ones that floated madly about Elantris, but a sane one, glowing with a full light.
"Ashe!" Matisse said happily.
"Lady Matisse," Ashe said, bobbing in the air.
"I'm no lady!" she said. "You know that."
"The title has always seemed appropriate to me, Lady Matisse," he said. "Lord Dashe. Is Lady Karata nearby?"
"She's in the library," Dashe said, taking his hand off the sword.
Library? Matisse thought. What library?
"Ah," Ashe said in his deep voice. "Perhaps I can deliver my message to you, then, as Lord Galladon appears to be busy."
"If you wish," Dashe said.
"There is a new shipment coming, my lord," Ashe said quietly. "Lady Sarene wished that you be made aware of it quickly, as it is of an. . .important nature."
"Food?" Matisse asked.
"No, my lady," Ashe said. "Weapons."
Dashe perked up. "Really?"
"Yes, Lord Dashe," the Seon said.
"Why would she send those?" Matisse asked, frowning.
"My mistress is worried," Ashe said quietly. "It seems that tensions are growing on the outside. She said. . .well, she wants New Elantris to be prepared, just in case."
"I'll gather some men immediately," Dashe said, "and go collect the weapons."
Ashe bobbed, indicating that he thought this to be a good idea. As her father walked off, Matisse eyed the Seon, a thought occurring to her. Maybe. . . .
"Ashe, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked.
"Of course, Lady Matisse," the Seon said. "What do you need?"
"Something simple, really," Matisse said. "But, it might just help. . . ."
#
Ashe finished his story, and Matisse smiled to herself, eying the sleeping form of the little girl Riika in her bedroll. The child seemed peaceful for the first time in weeks.
Bringing Ashe into the Roost had initially provoked quite a reaction from the children who weren't asleep. Yet, as he'd begun to talk, Matisse's instincts had proven correct. The Seon's deep, sonorous voice had quieted the children. Ashe had a rhythm about his speech that was wonderfully soothing. Hearing a story from a Seon had not only coaxed little Riika to sleep, but the rest of the stragglers as well.
Matisse stood, stretching her legs, then nodded toward the doors outside. Ashe hovered behind her, passing the sullen Idotris at the front doors again. He was tossing pebbles toward a slug that had somehow found its way into New Elantris.
"I'm sorry to take so much of your time, Ashe," Matisse said quietly when they were far enough not to wake the children.
"Nonsense,
Lady Matisse," Ashe said. "Lady Sarene can spare me for a bit, I think. Besides, it good to tell stories again. It has been some time since my mistress was a child."
"You were Passed to Lady Sarene when she was that young?" Matisse asked, curious.
"At her birth, my lady," Ashe said.
Matisse smiled wistfully.
"You shall have your own Seon some day, I should think, Lady Matisse," Ashe said.
Matisse cocked her head. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, there was a time when almost no Elantrian went without a Seon. I'm beginning to think that Lord Spirit may just be able to fix this city-after all, he fixed AonDor. If he does, we shall find you a Seon of your own. Perhaps one named Ati. That is your own Aon, is it not?"
"Yes," Matisse said. "It means hope."
"A fitting Aon for you, I believe," Ashe said. "Now, if my duties here are finished, perhaps I should-"
"Matisse!" a voice said.
Matisse cringed, glancing at the Roost, filled with its sleeping occupants. A light was bobbing in the night, coming down a side-street-the source of the yelling.
"Matisse?" the voice demanded again.
"Hush, Mareshe!" Matisse hissed, crossing the street quietly to where the man stood. "The children are sleeping!"
"Oh," Mareshe said, pausing. The haughty Elantrian wore standard New Elantris clothing-bright trousers and shirt-but he had modified his with a couple of sashes which he believed made the costume more 'artistic.'
"Where's that father of yours?" Mareshe asked.
"Training the people with swords," Matisse said quietly.
"What?" Mareshe asked. "It's the middle of the night!"
Matisse shrugged. "You know Dashe. Once he gets an idea in his head. . . ."
"First Galladon wanders off," Mareshe grumbled, "now Dashe is off waving swords in the night. If only Lord Spirit would come back. . . ."
"Galladon's gone?" Matisse asked, perking up.
Mareshe nodded. "He disappears like this sometimes. Karata too. They'll never tell me where they've gone. Always so secretive! 'You're in charge, Mareshe' they say, then go off to have secret conferences without me. Honestly!" With that, the man wandered off, bearing his lantern with him.
