The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

dignity as she could muster. Bearing in mind the state of her hair, that probably wasn’t much, but no matter. She had more important things to face than her appearance. In the chill morning air, she wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself and was glad of its comforting warmth. Glad also of the presence of Johan and Talus behind her, the light touch of Johan’s hand on her shoulder.
    The elders were as Talus had described them: lined up in an open semi-circle on the road outside her home. They could have been waiting there a lifetime and they looked as if they would be happy to wait another one also.
    First, she saw the longest-serving elder, with his grey-streaked hair and the lines of age on his face. He had acted, she knew, as a guide and mentor to the former First Elder from the very beginning, and she wondered if he would expect to offer the same role to her. She was unsure whether she wanted him to do so. He came from the makers of glass and his works had been the most destroyed in the land. The scars and memories he carried would be weighty.
    Next to him stood the maker of chairs. The carpenter looked at Annyeke as she gazed at him, his bald head glinting in the morning sun, his rounded body a contrast to the delicacy of his fingers. He might have been about to venture a narrow smile, and she nodded at him, but it did not come. Perhaps it was not the time for it.
    On the furthest side of the semicircle of men stood the maker of gardens and parks, his long fair hair lifting in the breeze which floated the scent of cypress-wood through the air. Strong and bitter as the aroma itself, she wondered if he had kept his anger at the destruction of Gathandria’s plants and trees hidden deep under his customary veil of gentle humour all these long year-cycles. The gardens were blossoming again now, slowly, but would it be enough for him to be willing to help her? None of them, herself included, had travelled this path before.
    Finally, Annyeke turned her attention to the one who never spoke, who was an obligatory member on all Councils of Elders, but whose mind was intended to hold them all in harmony. Such harmony as there might be, or that they could discover. His family was from the makers of words, both written and performed and she did not know if for him his silence was a liberation or a trap. She would never dare probe further though, as First Elder, it was her right to do so.
    Of course there should be more of them, but six were vanished forever, including the most recent casualty, the former First Elder himself. They would never return. Annyeke swallowed hard. Four elders remained. It would have to be enough.
    But how would they respond to her leadership? And how could she build them up to be a true Council again?
    She pressed her hand briefly to Johan’s where it still lay on her shoulder, took a breath and stepped forward alone.
    “Welcome,” she said, surprised to find her voice was steady. “It is good that you are back with us, people of the Council. Many things have changed since you left and many things have altered. But the land is beginning to heal, even in this winter, and there is much that needs to be done. We need you here.”
    So much else she could say, so many accusations filling her mouth. If she paid heed to them, they might choke her. Because Annyeke knew that to vent her anger against the so-called leaders of their land in a public place such as this and in front of those she loved would be foolishness. Still, she imagined even the Gathandrians crossing the other side of the park might pick up her emotions and the colours of her mind at this moment. Redheads weren’t known for their subtlety. Was this the same in every land, she wondered?
    She stepped to one side. They could start in her home, whatever happened after. She’d be damned if she took them to the old Council buildings, such as remained. After all, she was First Elder and they would have to obey.
    “Please,” she gestured at her threshold. “Come in. We have much to talk about.”
    Once the four elders were in her kitchen, huddled round the small table, Johan and Talus headed towards the garden and made themselves scarce. In one sense, Annyeke missed their comforting presence indoors, but they were there if for any reason she needed them. And, besides, she did not have enough stools for everyone. In her new role, no doubt she would be needing more. She stored that fact away for acting on later.
    First it was