Serapheen

Another week passed before Oren's uncle again demanded to see Cariel, and this time, Prynda agreed.  

"It's time," she told Cariel as she poured floweroil in her hair to condition it.  

Cariel frowned and splashed the water in her tub.  

"What?  Do you want to spend the rest of your life in this hut?"  

Cariel mumbled.  She didn't think that was such a bad idea.  

"Alright, come sit by the fire now and dry," Prynda said, having finished bathing her.  

Cariel stepped into the towel Prynda handed her and went by the flames.  Prynda took a towel to her hair and then began to comb it.  

"It won't be so bad," the old woman told her.  "They just want to know about you."  

"But there's nothing to know!  I haven't got any secrets."  

"Come now, don't you want to meet new people?  Get out of this room?"  

"No."  

"So you're going to spend the rest of your life here with me?" 

"What's wrong with that?  I spent most of my life in the rectory with Gambol," she said, remembering how she'd been happy.    

"It might," Cariel said, remembering how Gambol was killed by someone he thought he trusted.  Her memory was so strong, it flashed before Prynda.  

"Oh, dearie, no one's going to hurt you here, okay?" Prynda set down the comb she was using on Cariel's hair and took her face in her hands.  She saw the poor girl's fear and pain written clearly in her night-blue eyes.  

Cariel nodded; but she was more than content to stay in Prynda's hut not talking to anybody.  

"Alright, let's look at this wing now," Prynda said as Cariel stood up.  

The rest of he body had almost entirely healed.  Her bruises had all faded and her cuts were now the faintest scars.  But her wing was another story.  Prynda had been using her best herbs and  ointments to heal it, but it was still weak, the bone not fully mended.  Oren taught her a few stretches to get it moving again, but moving it still hurt incredibly.  

"Oww," Cariel said as Prynda pulled her wing out.  

"Can you move it for me?"  

Cariel extended her wings slightly, but she was hardly able to open them entirely.  

"Try a little harder," Prynda pushed her.  She'd been very gentle with Cariel since her arrival considering her circumstances, but Prynda felt it was time to use a bit of tough love.  

"It hurts," Cariel complained.  

"Just try harder, dear."  

As Cariel strained, Oren knocked on the door and came in to take her to the Convocation.  

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, seeing Cariel only in her towel.  He quickly went back out the door, his face red with a blush no one saw.  

Prynda dropped Cariel's wing and grabbed her dress.  

"You need to keep stretching," she told her as she helped her get dressed, "or your muscles won't get any stronger."    

The dress was a soft violet color that wrapped over Cariel's neck, leaving the back open for her wings, draping over her chest and tied at her waist with a skirt that went to her feet.  

"Come on in Oren," Prynda called.  And he politely stepped in.  

"Wow," he said, "you look very nice." 

Cariel looked down at her dress, trying to figure out why he'd said that. 

"Come on now," Prynda said, "you've got to get her to exercise that wing more," she told Oren.  

"Yes ma'am," he said with a smile.  

Oren led Pryda and Cariel out of the hut and to the Convocation's meeting area, which they called the Kettle.  Oren had also explained to Cariel that the Convocation was their governing council and that his uncle was its leader, which they called a Tiercel, not a King or governor.  

Prynda had also explained all this to Cariel also, and reminded her to use Seraph words, not the human ones.  

"Remember, we're Seraphs, not people.  You call the females Serapheen and the males Seraphall, not men and women."  

"I know," Cariel said, since she was raised by a human, she more often used human words to describe.    

"Okay, I'm just reminding you.  It's important they think you're one of us."

Cariel wondered why the giant pair of wings on her back wasn't proof enough.    

As they walked to the Kettle, several pairs of eyes looked on at her.  There weren't many Seraphs in this nest, only about 50, and most of them were old and remembered how the Dragon Wars ended.  

They didn't like the idea of a Seraph who'd been raised by humans - especially a magical human - in their midst.  

Oren knew this.  He'd heard their grumblings over the past month, and he protectively took a step closer to Cariel.

When they entered the Kettle, the most important members of their nest were waiting for them. The room was large with a tall ceiling and decorated with ancient script and images from what Cariel took to be Seraph history and folklore.  

Oren's uncle, Torian, sat at the center, accompanied by his wife, Ulie.  Ferrand, Brasen, Haldry, and Mecksus were the other members of the Convocation.  

They sat in a semicircle, flanking Torian, and peering down at Cariel as she entered.  

"There you go, dear," Prynda said, indicating an empty chair, Cariel walked over and took her seat, but panicked when Prynda didn't follow her.  

"You're not coming with me?" 

"Dearie, I'm part of the Convocation," Prynda said, taking her seat beside Torian.

Cariel gulped, but relaxed when Oren sat beside her. 

It'll be okay, he casted to her, and she smiled, glad she could hear him and nodded. 

"Seraphall and Serapheen," Torian began, ruffling his wings, "I speak on behalf of our nest when I thank you for taking the time to meet with us today."

Everyone in the room grew silent and serious. 

"As many of you know, over a month ago, we brought an injured Serapheen into our nest.  She was found being held captive in the Pine Mountains, but has now healed and regained her strength." 

Cariel felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her and felt nervous. 

"Before we can allow her into our community, we need to know where she came from," Torian continued, "and if she can be trusted." 

Several members in the audience tutted their agreement. 

"So tell us, girl, what is your name?"  Torian asked her. 

"My name is Cariel."

“What’s that?  Speak up!”

“My name is Cariel,” she said strongly, looking him in the eyes. 

“Cariel What?” 

Cariel looked to Oren.  She didn’t know her last name.  She’d never needed one. 

“It’s just Cariel.” 

Torian frowned.  “Then who were your parents?”  

“I don’t know.” 

She could tell that answer wasn’t enough. 

“I don’t remember them.  I don’t think I ever knew them.” 

“Can you tell us where you’re from?” 

“I last lived in Hederon, but I moved a lot.”

Torian’s gaze grew darker.  She knew he didn’t like any of her answers. 

“But do you know where you’re from?”

“You mean where I was born?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, no.  I don’t have any idea.”

“Can you tell us how old you are?” 

“Oh…um, I don’t know that either,” she said, and quickly added, “Sir,” hoping it was more respectful.  But then she realized that might be a human word.  Maybe she’d just disrespected him.  She looked to Oren; he smiled encouragingly.  

“Hederon, you say?  Then how did you get this far north?” 

“I live with a…The man who raised me came to Ilynos to see a…friend,” her voice broke as she said it, “a man he thought was his friend.” 

“Okay,” Torian said, taking his chin in his hand, “can you tell us about the man who raised you?”

“Yes,” Cariel said, her face brighter, “his name was Gambol, and he was a great man.  He was like a father to me.  We did everything together."  Torian scowled, none of that information helped him.  

"Did this Gambol have a last name?" 

"Gambol Alderathe."  

"And how old were you when he took you into his care?"  

"Um, I don't know, sir.  But I was younger than Orise, I'm pretty sure.  How old is he?"  

"Orise is almost seventeen."  

Cariel had hardly kept track of any time when she lived with Gambol, and sometimes she forgot how much more slowly Seraphs aged than humans.  

"Oh, well, I was definitely younger than that." 

"And what did Gambol do for a living?"  

"He was a magician," she said brightly, again happy she actually knew the answer to this question.  But the dark murmuring that quickly filled the room reminded her that they didn't like humans with magic here.  

"A what?"  Torian's voice grew more severe.   

Cariel tried to explain, she told them that what they mostly did was collect old books and translate them.  They traveled collecting obscure codices, seeking lost parchments, and uncovering rumored books.  

"He didn't really do magic as much as research it," she said.  She'd seen Gambol do magic on many occasions, but she decided to leave that part out.   

"I see," Torian said with an arched eyebrow.  "Does anyone else in the Convocation have any questions for Cariel?"

The other members all shook their head.  

"Very well.  Oren, can you please escort her from the room while we discuss what to do with her."  

Cariel felt her heart drop as Oren got up.  What was going to happen to her?  

As soon as she and Oren left the room, she asked him this frantically.