Free Dawnsinger by Janalyn Voigt Page B

Adorning Benisch’s feet were fine blue slippers sewn with tiny gold bells that jingled when he walked.
    “Good Steward, you honor me with your visit.” Maeven gave a fleeting smile.
    Clinking and jingling, Benisch bent over her hand with pretty manners.
    Kai resumed his seat at Maeven’s bedside while he repressed a chuckle at the chagrin on Elcon’s face. Benisch, Kai guessed, came not to visit Maeven but to remind Elcon of his duties.
    Benisch straightened and favored Maeven with a smile. “I am grateful for the opportunity to wait upon you.”
    He would have spoken again, but Maeven forestalled him. “How fortunate you should come just now when I have need of you.”
    “If I can serve you in some way—”
    “You may stand witness.” Maeven hesitated. “I’ve put this off, but I can do so no longer. The time has come. I shall bestow the Sword of Rivenn and the Scepter of Faeraven upon the next Lof Shraen of Faeraven. By now, Eufemia will have given Craelin a missive stamped with my seal asking him to retrieve them from the strongroom. They should arrive anon.”
    Kai had no doubt that Benisch misliked having his afternoon spent for him, and indeed the steward scowled, but protocol demanded he accept such a duty with grace. To his credit, he took a seat in a window embrasure and folded his arms to wait.
    Benisch intrigued Kai, who could read most people with ease, but not Benisch. The steward, a poor and distant relative of Timraen’s, had advanced to his present position at the former steward’s death. Benisch stood in less favor than Riechardt had, for his more literal interpretation of the law. Not that any steward culled popularity. Even kindly Riechardt had known criticism.
    A tap came at the inner chamber door, and it opened to admit Eufemia, followed by Craelin bearing the Sword and Scepter. Two of the guardians, Dithmar and Weilton, entered behind him, swords at their sides.
    Out of respect for the ancient emblems of the Kindren, Kai stood, as did Elcon and Benisch. Craelin crossed to Kai and placed the Scepter of Faeraven in his hands. Kai’s fingers curved around smooth metal as the gleam of rubies, diamonds, and emeralds met his eye.
    Maeven waved a hand. “We shall begin!” All drew near, and Elcon knelt at her bedside. “I remember a time when Timraen carried Sword Rivenn into battle. With this Sword, forged by Kunatel in the Viadrel , the Flames of Virtue, he freed me from the garns at Pilaer.” Maeven’s face glowed as if with youth, and her voice throbbed with vibrancy. “Neither can I forget the sad night when Timraen passed Sword Rivenn into my hands. Locked away during an era of peace, it has waited for stronger arms than mine.
    “Listen well, my son, for the time to once again wield Sword Rivenn approaches. This twin-edged Sword divides joint and marrow, spirit and soul, bringing judgment and destruction in its wake. And yet, it can break magics and act as a beacon to guide the lost to safety.” She held out her hands, and Craelin laid in them the bejeweled hilt of Sword Rivenn. But she strained to lift it, and Craelin lent the strength of his hands to hers.
    Maeven laid the flat of the blade on Elcon’s head. “In this sword find birth, death, and life.”
    Elcon stood, received Sword Rivenn from his mother’s hand, and sighted down its gleaming length. His sea-green eyes shone. “I will strive for worthiness to carry such a blade.”
    Maeven smiled. “My son, as Timraen’s son, you already possess the worth you seek.”
    She beckoned to Kai, and he gave the Scepter into her hands, but steadied them with his own.
    “Elcon, son of Timraen, open heart and hands to Faeraven, the ancient alliance of ravens, lands joined of necessity and choice.”
    “I receive and will keep the alliance of Faeraven.” Elcon accepted the Scepter as he recited the ceremonial words and added, “with all my heart.”
    “Well said.” Maeven’s voice quavered, and she fell back against her