42: Convocation

The weeks went by.

Valandur made arrangements to meet with all the minstrels, either singly or in groups of two or three, with Artelemnar acting as his secretary, sitting in on all the meetings and discussing the various minstrels afterwards. The two played a sort of game, trying to guess who would accept the offer and who would not. Those who were already employed by Ingwë were eager to continue serving and their meetings were brief, more for Valandur to put a face to a name than anything. Meetings with the other minstrels generally took longer, for Valandur was careful to explain the entire situation to them. He usually had either Amammírë or Sairon with him at such meetings. He found that it helped to allay any misgivings on the part of their fellow minstrels.

Eventually they saw all the minstrels. Artelemnar, in his youthful innocence, was sure that they would all accept Valandur’s proposal, but Valandur knew better and was not at all surprised when a few evinced reluctance to join them. The loremaster thanked them for giving him their time and dismissed them. Yet, whether they accepted the offer or declined, they all seemed grateful to learn that their status in the guild would be improving. Once, the question of whether any minstrel would be able to continue being a part of Ingwë’s spy network if by chance they retook the exams and passed them arose.

“I do not see why not,” Valandur answered with a shrug. “That might prove useful in the future.” He gave the three minstrels sitting across from him a sly look. “I might even try to recruit my own atar in that case.” That brought chuckles from the others.

When the meeting broke up, Valandur dismissed Artelemnar, insisting he would not need him for the rest of the day. Once alone, he turned his attention to the paper for the convocation which was coming up soon, but his thoughts wandered and the longer he thought about recruiting his atar, the more intriguing the idea became: to actually be his own atar’s employer. It was a foolish thought, though, and on one level, rather unworthy of him. Voronwë was pompous and full of himself at times, but he was an excellent bard and a wonderful husband and parent. He deserved better consideration from his own son. He forcibly dismissed the idea and returned to his paper, consulting his notes on dialectal divergence, but as he worked, thoughts of Findis began to intrude and he sat there, staring out into the garden, wondering what she was up to and if she missed him. It was some time before he was able to get back to working on the paper.

****

When he had met with every minstrel and had received an answer one way or another from each of them except one, he went to see Ingwë and fill him in on the details. They were sitting in Ingwë’s study.

“Of the minstrels on the list Lirilissë gave me, three have declined our invitation, saying that they felt uncomfortable with the idea, but they are willing to take oath to you to remain silent about it. Two are willing to join but only as information gatherers. They do not wish to be involved any further than that. I have not heard back from Mistress Lirimíriel, but I have a feeling she will probably decline, given all that has happened between her and her sister.”

Ingwë nodded. “The rank of Minstrel is in the process of being revised. We are having senior journeymen take the first round of exams shortly, once they’ve had a chance to study for them. Should we recruit them as well?”

“Not by my counsel,” Valandur said. “We have fifteen proven minstrels, people who make their living as such, either as teachers or entertainers, well established in our society. For the journeymen, the rank of Minstrel is merely a stepping stone toward becoming full-fledged bards. I may decide to recruit any who do not pass the later exams and remain as minstrels, but I think for now we can just concentrate on the ones we have.”

“That seems logical,” Ingwë said in approval. Then he gave Valandur a measuring look. “How is the paper for the convocation coming along? I hope that all these extra duties have not hindered you in that regard.”

“The paper was written long ago,” Valandur replied, pointing at his temple. “I’ve only had to write it out and check my notes. My duties at the Academy are rather light as I am only teaching three classes at the moment.”

“Do you often teach more than that?” Ingwë enquired.

“No, but I have not been assigned any scheduled tutorials. Headmaster Laurelassë has not yet entrusted me with any. I will meet with students informally if they are having a problem with the class and ask for additional help, but that’s all.”

Ingwë frowned. “Is that the usual practice? I have to confess, I know little about the inner workings of the Academy.”

“It is unusual for a junior loremaster not to have at least one tutorial assigned to him, but it’s not unheard of,” Valandur replied, giving a shrug. “I think the headmaster wanted to see how I did with the larger lectures first. I barely made loremaster. In fact, I believe I was dead last in my particular class, which is why I have been astounded by all that has happened, from you appointing me to the trade delegation to the headmaster telling me that I was to present a paper to the convocation to Lord Manwë intimating that someday he might advance me to the rank of Manwendur.”

“It only proves that we recognize your worth, even if others do not,” Ingwë said. “And personally, I think you’ve done very well and have even exceeded my expectations. I am very pleased to know that I chose the right Elf for the job.”

Valandur felt himself blushing with the praise and thanked the High King softly.

“We’ll see you at the convocation, then,” Ingwë said in dismissal and Valandur gave him a proper bow and left.

****

Valandur was sitting in his rooms a few days later, working out his next lesson with Indil, when a visitor was announced.

“Guildmaster Lirilissë, welcome.” He gave the elleth a proper bow.

“I thought we should talk, Loremaster,” Lirilissë said stiffly.

“Please sit,” he said, pushing a pile of books off a chair and offering her a seat. “Would you care for some tea or wine?”

“Thank you, no,” the elleth said. “I do not believe I will be here long enough to enjoy either.”

Valandur resumed his own seat and gave her his attention. For a moment, neither spoke. Lirilissë studied his sitting room with an air of disapproval, which Valandur ignored. His ammë always despaired at the sight of what she referred to as ‘mess’ and he preferred to think of as ‘resources immediately at hand’. He sat patiently, waiting for Lirilissë to speak first. Finally, she turned her attention to him, her demeanor somewhat haughty.

“I do not approve of what you and the High King are doing.”

“And have you told His Majesty that?” Valandur asked with studied politeness.

Lirilissë’s expression turned sour. “His Majesty is far too busy to be bothered with me, it seems.”

Valandur kept his expression bland, but inside he was grinning. He could just imagine what Ingwë’s orders concerning Guildmaster Lirilissë were. “And so, unable to importune Ingwë, you’ve decided to pay me a visit instead.”

“Why did you have to interfere?” she demanded angrily.

Valandur raised an eyebrow. “Interfere in what, Guildmaster? It was Ingwë who unknowingly interfered with your plans. All he did was to ask me to take responsibility for the minstrels whom he had recruited.”

“I do not mean that,” Lirilissë insisted with a wave of a hand. “I meant Lirimíriel. I know you went to see her.”

“And so? I was ordered by Ingwë to speak with all the minstrels. I know you and your sister are estranged and I’m sorry for that, but that is hardly my fault. I have had to deal with the situation as I found it. Your sister, however reluctant, is a minstrel. I was ordered by the High King to interview all the minstrels. But, really, why do you care? Your sister’s future as a member of your guild is really not your affair.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lirilissë demanded with a sniff of disdain. “She is a member of the guild and I am her guildmaster.”

Valandur’s demeanor became brusque as he began to lose patience with the elleth. He leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her for emphasis. “You forced her to rejoin the guild, rather than let her go her own way. You turned a rank of honor into one of dishonor simply out of pique, punishing the innocent along with the guilty, or at least, guilty in your eyes of defying you. Well, Ingwë and I are putting a stop to that. Your sister will probably not agree to join us. She appears content enough to remain a simple teacher of music to the children of farmers and I, for one, wish her well. Now, if that is all, Guildmaster, I have my own duties to attend to. Good day.”

“Well! I never!” the elleth exclaimed in self-important outrage.

“Obviously,” Valandur couldn’t help retorting, instantly regretting it, but refusing to apologize.

Lirilissë stood abruptly and without another word crossed the room and flung open the door, only to gasp in shock and step back as she came face-to-face with her twin, who was in the process of knocking on the door. The sisters stared at one another in uneasy silence. Valandur rose and joined them at the door.

“Mistress Lirimíriel, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in. No, no,” he said, taking her by the elbow and drawing her into the room when it looked as if she might turn and flee. “Please. It is well. Your sister was just leaving.”

Lirilissë, however, did not take the hint and instead remained where she was while Valandur offered Lirimíriel the seat her sister had vacated.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked solicitously as he took his own seat, watching the two sisters, so alike in features, so different in temperament. Lirilissë stood before the now closed door, staring at her twin while Lirimíriel sat staring back. Valandur decided not to intervene but to see where this unexpected meeting might lead. He leaned back, idly playing with the quill as he watched the interplay of emotions between the two ellith.

“How have you been, Miri?” Lirilissë finally asked in a tight voice.

“As if you care, Sister,” Lirimíriel responded.

“You are my sister, my twin. Of course I care,” the guildmaster protested.

“But not enough to let me go my own way,” the teacher retorted. “Well, to answer your question, I am doing well enough, thank you.” Then her tone turned sly. “I hear you’ve had a spot of trouble lately. Something about abusing your position as regards the minstrels?”

Lirilissë visibly paled and Valandur could sense that an explosion was about to happen. He debated with himself as to whether he should deflect the explosion or let it happen. He had the feeling that this confrontation was long overdue; he just wished it wasn’t happening in his sitting room.

“It was a mistake,” Lirilissë finally said.

“A mistake?” her sister countered, now standing to face her twin, her posture tense. “And what part of all this was a mistake? You creating the rank of Minstrel or you forcing me to rejoin the guild if I wanted to continue teaching? Or perhaps it was turning the rank of Minstrel into a badge of dishonor? It was bad enough you wished to punish me for defying you, but then you gave the rest of the guild license to disparage those unfortunates who failed to make master bard, turning them into second-class citizens, despised as songsters or teachers of elflings. Well, you overstepped your bounds, Sister, and I for one am glad.”

“I did all this for you, to give you another chance at becoming a bard, you ungrateful—”

“Did you? Well, perhaps you did and I appreciate it, but you failed to understand that I had no desire to return to the fold. I am sorry if I disappointed you in that respect, but I cannot help that. I found a new life that had nothing to do with the pompous asses who think that just because they are bards they are somehow better than the rest of us. I had to leave all that to realize it and I am even grateful for the fact that I failed to join their august band. I dread to think that I might well have become just as pompous.”

At that point, Valandur decided to enter into the conversation. “Mistress, was there a specific purpose for you coming to see me?”

She turned and gave him a chagrined look. “Sorry. I decided to give you my answer in person rather than send a note.”

“And what is your answer?” Valandur asked.

“Well, I was going to tell you that I was not interested in accepting your offer, but now…” She stole a look at her sister before returning her attention to Valandur. “But now, I have changed my mind. I am willing to pass on any information of which I feel His Majesty should be aware, but I am not willing to go any further than that, at least not at present.”

“Fair enough, and you are not the only one who has so stipulated, so do not feel as if you are somehow letting me or His Majesty down. Now, I have a few minutes. Perhaps we could discuss this in greater detail.”

Lirimíriel nodded, but instead of sitting, she turned to face her sister. “I am sorry, Liri, for everything. I hope someday you will forgive me.”

For a moment, the two simply stared at one another across a great divide and then, without a word of farewell, Lirilissë opened the door and left. Lirimíriel sighed and turned back to Valandur, taking her seat, her expression sad. Then she visibly pulled herself together and gave her attention to Valandur.

“So, Loremaster, just what do you wish me to do?”

****

The day before the convocation was Valanya and, as was his custom, Valandur dined with his family. As he was leaving to return to the Academy, his parents and sisters presented him with a gift, a new set of clothes especially made for the convocation.

“It’s just a meeting of the Academy body, nothing that special,” Valandur protested, feeling a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.

“To you it’s just a meeting, but to us it’s a very special day,” Voronwë explained and Marilla nodded while his sisters grinned. “We’ve never lost faith in you, yonya. We’ve watched you struggle to reach your goals and have wept with every setback and rejoiced at every triumph, however small. Your ammë and I have always felt you were destined for greatness, and tomorrow is proof of that.”

Valandur blushed at the unexpected praise and stammered his thanks, promising to wear the new garb, then took his leave of them.

The convocation would begin at the height of Laurelin’s blooming. After breaking his fast, Valandur carefully dressed in his new garb, a pale yellow-gold silk tunic embroidered with a green leaf-scroll pattern interspersed with blue and green tourmaline, his loremaster robe newly cleaned and pressed, his hair neatly braided with the gold and blue ribbons of the Academy. He re-read his paper, making last minute corrections, and poured himself a small glass of wine, feeling in need of some fortification when a sense of panic suddenly began to overwhelm him.

This was something he had dreamt about when he had sat in the audience listening to his masters speak of arcane matters well beyond his ability to fully understand, imagining himself standing before the Academy body. He did not think it would ever happen or if it did it would be many long yéni in the future. That it was happening now left him feeling stunned as the hour drew nearer. He fervently hoped he would not make a fool of himself, especially with his family there to see.

There was a knock on the door and he opened it to find Headmaster Laurelassë, smiling at him.

“Headmaster! What a surprise,” Valandur exclaimed as he ushered the ellon inside.

“This is a big day for you, isn’t it?” Laurelassë said in greeting.

“More than you can imagine,” Valandur replied with honest fervency.

“Oh, trust me, I have a very good imagination. I know you must be feeling very nervous. I just wanted to tell you that I would not have asked you to present this paper if I didn’t think you could do it justice. Think of it as just another lecture.”

“Except my parents and my sisters will be there and possibly the High King himself,” Valandur rejoined with a sardonic grin.

“I remember when I gave my first paper at a convocation,” Laurelassë said, smiling back. “I was so nervous I thought I would be sick right in front of everyone. One of my colleagues gave me a suggestion that helped.”

“And what suggestion was that?”

“Either to pick one person in the audience and give the talk to him or her or keep your eyes on the back wall and tell it what you wished to say and ignore the fact that the hall is full of people, people whom you know and who know you. Trust me, Val. We’re all on your side.”

“How do the other masters feel about it, though?”

“You mean, having a junior loremaster present a paper when it’s never been done before, or having you specifically give the paper?” Laurelassë rejoined, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Valandur blinked, suddenly not sure which he meant when presented with the question. Laurelassë saved him the bother of an answer. “The truth is,” he said more soberly, “some of the older masters were a bit upset at the thought that someone so new to his rank would be offered the opportunity to speak at the convocation when usually one can wait yéni before one is offered the chance, but all of them agreed that you were quite capable of pulling it off. As I said, we’re on your side and if the other junior loremasters feel any resentment, well, perhaps they’ll feel less so if it is intimated that perhaps they, too, might be offered the chance to speak at a future convocation.”

Valandur raised an eyebrow and gave the headmaster a slow smile. “Has anyone told you what a terribly devious person you are, Headmaster?”

“Not recently, and not in those exact words,” Laurelassë retorted. “Now, I must go and see that everything is ready. You will be all right?”

“Yes, thank you. I appreciate you coming to speak to me. I promise, I will not let you down.”

“You never have before, yonya, I doubt you’ll start now. I will see you again shortly. Best be off now. We’ll be starting within the hour.” With that, Laurelassë left and Valandur gathered his notes and made his way to the masters’ common room where all those who would be presenting papers were congregated. There were four others and Valandur would present his paper last, which meant by the time he did speak, most of the audience would probably be asleep and the guests gone. Well, it would be what it would be.

The other masters greeted him politely, congratulating him on his being asked to speak and enquiring about his duties at the palace, for they all knew that he was tutoring the princess and acting as a consultant to the High King. Valandur answered politely if a bit vaguely about his duties, saying only that he had learned much in the short time he had been in Ingwë’s employ.

And then it was time to begin and they filed into the large audience hall. Valandur took his seat on the stage along with the others. Headmaster Laurelassë was already there welcoming the students and other masters and any guests. Valandur kept his eyes on Laurelassë’s back, refusing to see where his family was sitting or if the High King was there. Laurelassë was introducing each of the speakers, and Valandur rose and bowed when his turn came. Then the first presenter, Master Calamíriel, stood and began speaking about the latest findings in crystallography and the suspected properties of rubies and other gems. She was followed by one of the masters who specialized in mathematics and physics, speaking about a new theorem concerning energy and something he called thermodynamics.

Each speaker was limited to half an hour and the time was strictly enforced. “Otherwise, they are likely to continue speaking into the middle of the next week if we don’t set a time limit,” Laurelassë had told Valandur with a wicked gleam in his eyes as the two had been discussing the convocation at one point. Valandur had chuckled, knowing full well how most loremasters loved to talk.

One by one the masters stood and presented their papers. Valandur tried to pay attention to what was being said even if he understood only parts of it, but he was feeling too nervous and excited and he wondered if anyone would actually like his talk. He imagined his parents dutifully sitting somewhere in the audience — from where he was sitting, he really could not see where they were, though he had looked — pretending interest while his sisters fidgeted and sighed in boredom. He had no idea if Ingwë was even there. Well he would find out eventually. In the meantime, Master Amaniel was finishing up and everyone applauded politely as she sat and Laurelassë stood to introduce Valandur.

“And now we come to our final presenter,” he said. “Master Valandur is one of our newer loremasters, and it is unusual to ask a junior loremaster to speak in any of these convocations, but Master Valandur recently had the opportunity to do some, shall we say, field research in the area of language drift and I felt it was important enough that we all hear what he has to say about it. Master Valandur?”

Laurelassë turned to Valandur and he stood and went to the podium, placing his notes on it. He glanced out at the audience, noticing his fellow junior loremasters, some of whom were his friends, like Hallacar and Itarillë. She gave him a brilliant smile when their eyes met. He saw his students, all of them looking rather bored and uninterested and he suddenly decided that at their next meeting he would quiz them on what the other masters had spoken about. Then he saw his parents and sisters, perhaps two-thirds back. His atar was sitting gravely, dressed formally in his bard’s tabard, while his ammë gave him a brief wave of her hand and smiled. His sisters seemed to straighten in their seats and look interested. He could not see Ingwë and felt a brief stab of disappointment, but then put it aside. The High King had more important things to do than sit around for nearly three hours being bored.

There was a restive feeling in the air as the audience fidgeted impatiently without making it obvious, knowing that relief from tedium was near and soon they would be enjoying light refreshments and the Academy’s best wines. Valandur cleared his throat.

“I be thanking Headmaster Laurelassë for this opportunity to be speaking with ye all and I be pleased to be telling ye all that I be learning about dialectal divergences amongst our clans.”

Just about everyone sat up straight and suddenly he had their complete attention. Valandur smiled.

****

Notes on color and gemstones:

1. Yellow symbolizes wisdom and is full of creative and intellectual energy. A clean light yellow promotes clarity of the mind. Yellow-gold is the color of Sunday for obvious reasons.

2. Blue tourmaline is a rare form of tourmaline that promotes calm and relief from stress, while green tourmaline stimulates creativity and brings a joy for life.