“What is that?” Phae asked, leaning forward.
“The Seneschal is a title—it is an ancient title. It means the oldest servant. He holds the Voided Keys. He is the one you must see if you are to accept your powers. He is the one who will perform your oath. He will bind you to your tree with a Key.” The Dryad reached out and gently brushed a lock of Phae’s hair away from her face.
“Does the Seneschal have a name?”
The girl nodded. “He will tell it to you. I cannot speak it.” She sat straighter, looking worriedly into Phae’s eyes. “So you are the one who was chosen? You would enter the vast Scourgelands and seek our fallen sisters? You must awaken them to the oaths they made. We do not speak of what happened. Only the Seneschal remembers it and he does not say. It is a great sadness, I think. The younger ones, like myself, have asked. The knowledge is lost to all of us.”
Phae nodded slowly. She felt so comfortable with the Dryad. “What can you teach me? I know so little about us.”
“I should fetch your mother. It is proper that she should teach you.”
“I would like to see her,” Phae said, her heart swelling with emotion. Tears pricked her eyes.
“Then I will seek her. I will be gone but a moment.”
Phae blinked and the girl was gone. Startled, she stared at the spot where the Dryad had been. Slowly, Phae stood, trying to quell the sudden tremor that started in her knees. She longed to see her mother. A burning ache began to swell inside her heart. Phae grazed the bark with her fingers, staring down at the fallen leaves, waxy acorns, and stubble. Another breeze stirred the air, sounding like a sigh. Phae shivered.
The Dryad girl reappeared around the side of the oak, her face downcast.
A stab of pain struck Phae’s heart. “She did not come?”
The girl shook her head slowly. “She cannot leave her tree, even for a moment. It is dying, Phae. The air and pollution of Kenatos is choking its life. Her presence is the only thing helping it survive. She must stay to preserve your father’s memories. If she leaves, even for a moment, the tree will die and she will be banished from this world.” With a look of sorrow, the girl approached and gave Phae a hug. “She bid me embrace you. And she charged me to instruct you in her stead.” She kissed Phae on the top of her head. “She loves you, sister. More than I can express.”
Tears spilled from Phae’s eyes, and she caught them on the edge of her sleeve. “I wish I could go to her,” she whispered mournfully. “I told my father to take me to Kenatos.”
The Dryad shook her head vehemently. “There you must not go. The air is sick. I could smell it in her bark. Her tree is just a husk now. There are so few leaves and only a few sprigs of mistletoe left. She clings to its life, to preserve the connection with your father. To give him the wisdom he needs to fulfill the task.”
Phae bit her lip, nodding. “It is my task now as well. Tell me what I need to know.”
The two girls held hands and lowered back to the base of the oak. “It may sound strange to you, but I will do my best to describe our world. You should have been taught this as a child. If you had, it would have been easier to believe. You must trust me. Things may seem strange to you at first. Do not let your natural doubts crowd out the truth of what I say. All right?”
Sighing deeply, Phae nodded, clinging to the girl’s warm hands.
“Let me teach you first of Mirrowen. It is the gateway to the lands beyond the reach of death. There is no death in Mirrowen. It does not exist there. How can I describe it? It is like a kingdom…no, that is not the right word. It is like a manor house only more beautiful than any king could construct. There are no bastions or walls or gates. There are gardens and bridges and waterfalls. There is no night. Every tree produces the most precious fruit. The flowers and plants are beautifully tended by the Seneschal. There are other servants, of course. But…that is not what they really are. Many are Dryad-born, like us. Some are spirit creatures who serve the Seneschal because they choose to do so.”
“What is he like?” Phae asked.
The girl bit her lip, her expression pinching in thought. “He is very tall. He looks similar to a Vaettir, except his hair is not black but a dark brown. He is ageless, eternally young. He is wise. So very, very wise. When you speak with him, you learn something new every time. He is patient. Mostly though, he is meek. Do you know anyone who is meek?”
Phae’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure I even know that word. It is not a common trait in Stonehollow, I think.”
The girl laughed softly. “No, it is not common in this world at all. It is difficult to describe. He does not anger quickly. But when he does, when he is disappointed, you feel it in your bones. He is patient though. You gain patience tending gardens.”