***
Devlin Ryder came leisurely into the Verden reality from the Lore-bridge. His remarkable steed strolled casually onto the damp, wilting grass next to a small pond. There was an adjoining clearing of level ground covered with various heights of wild pasture, all enclosed by a thick lining of balding trees. The darkening sky was sullen and blustery, whipping his bright blonde hair out behind him like a pennant. Likewise, his steed's thick mane swayed like a field of golden wheat as its large hooves dug at the rich earth. Devlin thought that the little meadow would serve his needs for the time being.
Letting the steed free to graze, Devlin walked along the encompassing tree line and fogged it from mortal eyes and memory. He retrieved canvas and poles from the steed's bulky pack and propped his tent near the pond. It was a small, five-post affair, archaic in its design, black with yellow fringe and detail. The exterior covered no more than nine square yards, but the immense interior defied physics and logic.
One corner of the tent's interior was pillowed for relaxation or sleep. In another sat an ornate chair and table, stacked with writing quills, maps, and parchment. The remainder of the large space only held two chairs facing each other; the larger framed in gold with black padding, while the smaller was simple and wooden. It was a simple yet effective device to imply dominance, which he enjoyed.
As Devlin ducked back out through the tent flaps, his periphery caught movement out over his temporary claim. Two pixies circled lazily at a respectful distance over his unconcerned steed. Just as Devlin started toward them, they took notice of him and their flight became more chaotic. Thinking they might flee, he spoke as he continued to stride out into the small field. "As magistrate of the Circle, I command you to calm yourselves and remain."
The two small fae nervously circled once more, but then slowed to a jumpy, twitching hover next to each other, well out of his reach.
Devlin put a hand on his steed's withers and looked up at them. The two female pixies were identical in their multicolored shifts and dragonfly wings, except that one had light blonde hair and the other had chestnut. Devlin adapted a pleasant smile to placate the two. "A fine steed, is he not?"
The diminutive creatures circled and spun again once, their body language and movements indicating their nervous agreement.
Devlin glanced around at the small clearing, and then back up to them. "You visit this meadow often? It is one of your retreats?" The pixies fluttered in affirmative yet again, their actions a bit more timid. "Have no fear, I will not claim this for my own and deprive you of it. I will simply use this clearing for the Circle's business while I'm here. You are welcome to remain, for I have use of your knowledge. In serving me, you serve the Circle of Prudence, and they will smile upon you should you prove useful."
The two swirled excitedly, reassured of their safety. As the pixies flitted and danced in dizzying aerial commotion, they spoke in high, squeaky voices. "I am Neela, magistrate," one said. The other announced, "I am Moyna, sir. We obey the Circle."
Devlin could not tell which name belonged to which pixie from their frenzied movements as they introduced themselves, but it was of little importance. They were only simple creatures, and merely tools for his work. He gave a small bow as he continued looking up at them. "Well met, Neela and Moyna of the proud pixie heritage. I am Devlin Ryder." He patted his steed's rump. "Please, rest your wings before I call for your service."
As the two gently landed hand in hand on the back of the steed's strong black back, it flicked its long golden tail once in annoyance. Devlin took in the attractive features of the two miniature fae before continuing. "Neela, do you know of the fae who visit this area, or hold havens hereabout?"
The blonde pixie answered. "I do, magistrate. Many of many do I know of."
He smiled softly at her and then fixed his eyes on the darker-haired pixie. "And you, Moyna, do you know where these fae might usually be found, or where their havens are?"
"That I do, sir," Moyna piped in the same voice as her cohort. "Long and long have we come here, and see much."
Devlin smiled at her as well. He was satisfied that those two would serve well as messengers. "Very good, I am pleased. Now, do you know of a Drommen named Enochia? Enochia Eversight?"
"Yes, sir, I surely do," Moyna continued. "A respected elder is she, sir; wise and even in temper, sir."
He nodded at the dark-haired pixie and then asked the other, "Do you know where she is, Neela? I have questions for her."
The blonde pixie's wings fluttered. "Yes, magistrate, we know of her haven. Been there, we have, when the elder has need of us. We know the way. We can take you there. We can show you. Follow us, magistrate! We know where!" While still standing on the steed's rump, their wings began to buzz.
Devlin quickly put up a hand to calm them. "Ladies, please." He looked at each in turn. "Moyna, I would be pleased if you would remain and tell me what you know of the elder Enochia, and how you have served her in the past. Neela, I request of you to find Enochia and tell her that a magistrate on errand of the Circle, respectfully requests her presence here. It would be at her earliest convenience, but delay would be frowned upon. Can you do that, Neela?"
"Yes, magistrate, I can!" was the squeaky reply.
"Off you go, then, little one." The blonde pixie smiled and then shot away, soon out of sight.
Devlin had no desire to stand on the elder's ground to question her. Having her come to him would be a display of his authority, something he'd relish holding over a noted oracle. She would soon learn that whatever social status she held in these parts meant little when the power of the Lore called on her. He considered Enochia just a big fish in a small pond, and easily caught. "Come, Moyna. You may join me in my tent and tell me what you know."