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[sign_seeker]

The great stone-walled room the Old Ones have taken over is filled with chairs and lined with beds hastily brought in some weeks ago. Sometimes one or another wanders beyond, of course, to the hallways or the library or the sunlit gardens, but there's little spare energy for that these days. Maintaining the web of complex spells takes enough attention and work that most of them come off a shift exhausted, and when carrying the greater burden of the spells there's only so much focus one can spare for anything else.

Will's been asleep. He stirs, now, and rolls over slowly. Something's altered; shift change, he thinks, and rubs a hand across bleary eyes.

And then sits up abruptly, suddenly hearing the murmurs of startled question around him. Because, yes, it's time for the second group of Old Ones to take on their share of the magic -- but that's not all that's changed.

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[gramarye1971]

After leaving the regent to take up his place in the daytime watch, Merlion wastes very little time in heading to the hall where the Old Ones have gathered.

His jaw is set as he enters the hall; his face is flat and expressionless. Only the deeper lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes give any hint of the change that he had witnessed firsthand not a short time before.

Before anyone else can speak, he declares, preemptively:

'There has been an adjustment, after a fashion.'

[gramarye1971]

'That's certainly plain enough.' Miss Greythorne is first to reply, her thin voice slightly sharpened by alarm. 'What kind of "adjustment" are we looking at, here?'

Though her words sound harsh and anxious, there is nothing but concern in her gaze as she studies Merriman.

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

A murmur of agreement and question passes through the crowd of gathered Old Ones, and subsides. Mostly, though, the Circle is silent, waiting for the word from the oldest of their kind.

Will stands among them, sober impassivity masking a deeper worried disquiet.

[gramarye1971]

Miss Greythorne's comment does not provoke so much as a twitch of an eyebrow.

'I spoke with the regent Bran Davies earlier this morning, concerning the events of yesterday evening.' He does not need to explain this much; all of the Old Ones knew what had happened within a quarter of an hour of Galadan's departure, without a word being spoken aloud. 'He asked about setting up a possible defence of the land -- and in the course of the conversation, the subject of arms and armaments was raised.'

A pause then, as his gaze travels around the room, taking in the sea of faces before him.

'Under my supervision, he was able to pass the enchantment that surrounded the sword Eirias. He now bears it at his side, in his duty as the regent of this land.'

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

Will's first thought -- because rested or not, spells lighter or not, they're all still exhausted from days of mind-blurring struggle -- is Oh. That makes sense.

And then, sharper, oh.

Because it doesn't make sense, after all. Because Bran shouldn't be able to pass those spells; he gave up that birthright six years ago, when he chose Clwyd and the loving bonds of family over the Summer Country and the Pendragon heritage.

If he can now -- if he is Pendragon again now...

Will's eyes are fixed on Merriman, wide and startled.

[gramarye1971]

It takes a moment for realisation to dawn on the faces of those gathered in the hall, but when it finally does their expressions range from surprise and alarm (Will) to a bitter half-smile of understanding (Miss Greythorne). More than a few of the older members of the Circle seem to have taken their cue from Merlion's impassive countenance, and the silence that has fallen is heavy and almost stifling.

'It is as it is,' Merlion says at last, quietly. 'And for now, it is the best we have to offer. It does not change the fact that this is only a temporary situation, as any regency must be.'

He meets Will's gaze as he says the last few words, and in the brief moment of eye contact there is enough time to send a simple, silent message: All will be well.

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

Will's acquiescence comes in a silent wordless response, and in the way his face smooths over to match Merriman's expressionlessness.

There is little more to say, it seems, at least for the group at large. The air in this spacious stone-walled hall is heavy with magic and controlled reactions and silent words passed from Old One to Old One. Slowly, the Circle disperses.

The burden is far lighter now, but no less important. They will keep to their shifts and their duty.

Nonetheless, the spells have dropped into place around Bran now, strong and solid enough at least that even the working Old Ones can move about and speak in soft distracted murmurs far more than they have been able to for uncountable timeless days. And so as Will takes on his share of the spells, he drifts a few more steps towards Merriman.

[gramarye1971]

Merlion meets him halfway, as others of the Circle move aside to allow the oldest and the youngest of their kind to speak to each other undisturbed.

'He may have realised it by now.' They are not exactly out of earshot of the other Old Ones, but then again it is not as if their conversation is meant to be private. 'Consciously realised it, that is. He clearly accepted it on a deeper level, but the immediate connection between action and consequence is not always so easily understood.'

It is a situation with which he is entirely too familiar.

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

Will nods, studying the far wall for a moment without entirely seeing it as he feels the spells buzz through his mind, shifting under the floor and the air around them.

"Bran fits as regent now," he says slowly. "Much more closely, and much more easily. But he is no more part of this land than he was, I think."

He looks up at the fierce craggy face above him. "I will go find him. And talk to him, either way."

Will and Merriman are of the same kind, and understand each other well. There is little more to say, and little more they know for certain yet, and it isn't very long before Will slips out of the great stone hall and heads down the hallway.

The regent may need his advisor, and Bran may need his friend.