Wealdland, being from the lands beyond the Far Grasslands. Perhaps you should relinquish your judgeship.”
“My people are true wealdkin as any,” Summeninquis sputtered. “Why my brother-”
“-Is a most courageous captain of wealdkin soldiers as any I have known. Your patriotism is never in doubt,” Alrhett softened her voice, “but, perhaps we should discuss your humanity and compassion.”
A snort from the woman following behind made both turn.
“Something amuses, Garmee Gamee?” Summeninquis said in deep threatening tones. His dark eyes sparkled in his long, creased, dusky face.
“Oh no, my Lord, High, Exalted Judge,” the young woman said with a practiced humility. “I swallowed a seedling and choked.” Garmee Gamee shook her bleached blonde hair in a way to show that she was earnest. Her heavy cosmetics made her eyes two shining cinders, and the open circle of her mouth made a black, endless tunnel. She was dressed in the manner of the young maids of the wealdkin, even though the tight wrinkles around her eyes betrayed she was a much older woman.
“How do the wealdkin of the Eaststand feel here in New Rogar Li?” Alrhett asked Garmee Gamee.
“It is a difficult adjustment,” Garmee Gamee said. “What with lowering ourselves to the customs and manners of the central wealdkin.”
Summeninquis laughed a scornful burst.
“’Lowering’?” Alrhett fixed her with a regal stare, and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean- I mean,” Garmee Gamee stammered, “the forms of language, there are ‘lower’ and ‘higher’ forms of speech, which we used in the Eaststand, and... such... so...” She trailed off, staring away and falsely shaking her hair.
“I see,” Alrhett dismissed. Then to Summeninquis, “in a fortnight, please convene a council of the Leaders of the Houses, to coincide with a gathering of the Lords of the Weald. I think the more voices that are heard, the more just will be our decisions.”
“I feel my leadership is of more use than the many prattlings of the mobs,” Summeninquis sniffed.
Alrhett stopped to take in the massive reconstruction all about her. Old Rogar Li had been a series of magnificent mansions lifted high into the air by huge, old trees over centuries of growth. Wooden walkways connected homes and villages in a canopy unlike any city anywhere else in Wealdland. Old Rogar Li was ancient and filled with beautiful tradition. Homes, adorned with curious carvings, nestled high in towering trees could be in the same family for several centuries of generations. Everywhere you went in Old Rogar Li was the soft rocking of the trees moving with the gentle breezes of the Weald.
After the great fire, set by garond archers with arrows of fire to drive the wealdkin from their homes, a full quarter of the dense forest of the Weald had burned along with every stick of Old Rogar Li.
New Rogar Li was a flat city, wide with open spaces, airy and solid, angular, with no shade to speak of, much less a single bending sapling. The new city was being built with precious lumber being cut from an already stressed forest. The Bairn River was visible in the distance to the south, with nary a tree to break the view. To the north, the tree line of the Weald receded with every new tree cut for the next home or shop of New Rogar Li. Old Rogar Li had been not only lifted into the air by trees, but also surrounded on all sides by lush and full, old tree growth. New Rogar Li was devoid of trees for many lengths, all around.
Everywhere was the refuse and debris of constant building. Every corner rang with the loud cacophony of men working. The wealdkin were eager to rebuild their city and rushed ahead with little thought of planning or design. New Rogar Li was not beautiful, but it was barely a year old. With vision, with guidance, it could be magnificent, but it would never resemble the glory of the old city, in tradition or design.
“As I approach my fifty fourth year of life,” Alrhett said,
“My people are true wealdkin as any,” Summeninquis sputtered. “Why my brother-”
“-Is a most courageous captain of wealdkin soldiers as any I have known. Your patriotism is never in doubt,” Alrhett softened her voice, “but, perhaps we should discuss your humanity and compassion.”
A snort from the woman following behind made both turn.
“Something amuses, Garmee Gamee?” Summeninquis said in deep threatening tones. His dark eyes sparkled in his long, creased, dusky face.
“Oh no, my Lord, High, Exalted Judge,” the young woman said with a practiced humility. “I swallowed a seedling and choked.” Garmee Gamee shook her bleached blonde hair in a way to show that she was earnest. Her heavy cosmetics made her eyes two shining cinders, and the open circle of her mouth made a black, endless tunnel. She was dressed in the manner of the young maids of the wealdkin, even though the tight wrinkles around her eyes betrayed she was a much older woman.
“How do the wealdkin of the Eaststand feel here in New Rogar Li?” Alrhett asked Garmee Gamee.
“It is a difficult adjustment,” Garmee Gamee said. “What with lowering ourselves to the customs and manners of the central wealdkin.”
Summeninquis laughed a scornful burst.
“’Lowering’?” Alrhett fixed her with a regal stare, and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean- I mean,” Garmee Gamee stammered, “the forms of language, there are ‘lower’ and ‘higher’ forms of speech, which we used in the Eaststand, and... such... so...” She trailed off, staring away and falsely shaking her hair.
“I see,” Alrhett dismissed. Then to Summeninquis, “in a fortnight, please convene a council of the Leaders of the Houses, to coincide with a gathering of the Lords of the Weald. I think the more voices that are heard, the more just will be our decisions.”
“I feel my leadership is of more use than the many prattlings of the mobs,” Summeninquis sniffed.
Alrhett stopped to take in the massive reconstruction all about her. Old Rogar Li had been a series of magnificent mansions lifted high into the air by huge, old trees over centuries of growth. Wooden walkways connected homes and villages in a canopy unlike any city anywhere else in Wealdland. Old Rogar Li was ancient and filled with beautiful tradition. Homes, adorned with curious carvings, nestled high in towering trees could be in the same family for several centuries of generations. Everywhere you went in Old Rogar Li was the soft rocking of the trees moving with the gentle breezes of the Weald.
After the great fire, set by garond archers with arrows of fire to drive the wealdkin from their homes, a full quarter of the dense forest of the Weald had burned along with every stick of Old Rogar Li.
New Rogar Li was a flat city, wide with open spaces, airy and solid, angular, with no shade to speak of, much less a single bending sapling. The new city was being built with precious lumber being cut from an already stressed forest. The Bairn River was visible in the distance to the south, with nary a tree to break the view. To the north, the tree line of the Weald receded with every new tree cut for the next home or shop of New Rogar Li. Old Rogar Li had been not only lifted into the air by trees, but also surrounded on all sides by lush and full, old tree growth. New Rogar Li was devoid of trees for many lengths, all around.
Everywhere was the refuse and debris of constant building. Every corner rang with the loud cacophony of men working. The wealdkin were eager to rebuild their city and rushed ahead with little thought of planning or design. New Rogar Li was not beautiful, but it was barely a year old. With vision, with guidance, it could be magnificent, but it would never resemble the glory of the old city, in tradition or design.
“As I approach my fifty fourth year of life,” Alrhett said,
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