by Trevol Swift
Shep grimaced. “Good point.”
“Fancy some investigating together like we used to?”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving them unguarded. See to your duties, Jhee.”
Shep patted her hand and joined the others in picking out clothes.
Once Jhee and company had eaten a light morning meal, they took advantage of the Maker Shrine in the designated courtyard to do their morning devotions. Kanto sketched off alone by himself while she and Mirrei did their lessons with Shep as their pacesetter.
“What did you and Kanto quarrel about now?” Mirrei asked. “His mood changed suddenly. He’s been rather sulky, not his usual upbeat self.”
“No crosstalk,” Jhee replied.
“My time. My topics.”
“We’ve only spoken or even seen each other today in passing.”
“In passing, today. Not so last night.”
“Nothing is happening with us.”
Mirrei raised an eyebrow. “The root problem. Make something happen. Put aside your reservations. Teach him casting.”
“I’m hardly a proper teacher.”
“It hasn’t stopped you with me.”
“Men, men are different. Besides, I can hardly do so here, can I?”
“Sounds like excuses.”
“I’ll talk to him later, though, if it will ease your bothered mind.”
Mirrei tapped the tip of Jhee’s nose. “It would. That is all I ask. We shall speak no more of the menfolk for the remainder of our appointment.”
“Clear and center your mind,” Jhee said.
Jhee and Mirrei shook out their arms. Jhee instructed Mirrei how to plant her feet wide and drop her weight in to ensure she could not be uprooted while cyphering. Using his old battle drum and heavy striker, Shep beat it to set the tempo. They practiced grounding themselves for several minutes.
“Focus on directing your weight down through your anchoring gears.”
When she instructed Mirrei in the cyphering forms, the forces trembled and echoed. Some residual effect on the subtle energies from the tremors. If the healing powers of this place weren’t pure fancy, what impact might it have on the prime forces one drew on while cyphering? Was there more method than mania to the restrictions?
Flowers and Maker geld decorated the rubble in a section of the courtyard with no effigies. Was this where they found the Prospective crushed by falling debris? No trace of high velocity spatter. Jhee shielded her eyes as she scanned up the length of the spires. They cast long shadows. Brilliant, emerald and ruby coral clashed with those ghastly statues. Her mind began to work out the angles and trajectories required for anything which fell from a tower to land here or in the water.
Next, she knew, she had her conch out. Mirrei and Shep cleared their throats. Jhee tucked it back in her robes.
Mirrei hugged Jhee’s arm. “Someone died here.”
“You’d be hard-pressed to find a patch of ground on or over which someone hasn’t died,” Shep replied.
“At some point,” Kanto said, “but not weeks ago. No wonder the residents whisper about hauntings.”
Jhee narrowed her eyes at the courtyard’s far wall. Had she merely imagined what she saw at the courtyard shrine?
“Spirits and echoes of the past abound here,” the prioress said.
The prioress approached Jhee.
“The abbess instructed me to give you a tour of the abbey,” the prioress said. “She said you spoke about it after the feast.”
“That we did.”
The tour began at the gardens near their courtyard. They found Sister Serra overlooking a sparse contingent of Prospectives tending an herb garden.
“Justicar, what a lovely surprise. I was just about to make my rounds of the orchards and vineyards. Would you like me to explain to you our operations?”
“Please, denbe, can we?” Mirrei asked.
As much as Jhee would have liked to, she thought about how it might affect Mirrei to take a long journey in this damp. She wished she had had the presence of mind to see the litter prepared for their excursion. “Perhaps later.”
Mirrei pouted.
Sister Serra took notice of her reaction. “A tour of the agri-pods then?”
Mirrei glimmered her eyes at Jhee. Jhee smiled. “Lead the way,” Jhee said.
“One thing first.” Sister Serra pulled out a magnifier and examined a vine bearing shriveled grapes.
“What are you looking for?” Mirrei asked.
“Noble rot.”
Shep whispered to Mirrei, who asked, “For a new wine?”
Serra raised her head from the bunch. “Might as well put this mold and mildew to productive use. You know about viticulture?”
“Not as much I’d like. Why a new wine rather than increase production of Tranquility Gold?”
“The soil tutelaries responsible for the unique flavor of Tranquility Gold only inhabit the slopes. Not only is that area hard to work, but it’s also at capacity. We can add the sweeter wines, which can only be made from grapes afflicted by a certain fungus, to our list of offerings.”
Sister Serra winked. Jhee moved forward. Shep laid a hand on her wrist.
“Very sensible. I’m most interested in your sustainability and vertical farming.”
“Blight destroyed part of our crops last year. Some affected fields became rice paddies. If we can increase the yields on the pods, we can protect them from the extreme weather.”
Jhee stopped at a trellis of beige, wrinkled melons interlaced amongst spindly, vivid sea-green vines. The lattice occupied a sunny corner of the garden not far from an apple tree and work shed. Underneath the tree, a stone memorial bench had been erected.
“Ha, lace root melons,” Kanto exclaimed. He slipped between Jhee and Shep.
“This was one of Saheli’s favorite spots.”
“Secluded,” Jhee said.
“She used to counsel many Prospectives here in private.”
“Not entirely in private,” the prioress said.
“Private enough. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
“It saddened me to hear of Saheli’s passing,” Jhee said.
Their tour group rode a hand-operated lift up the agri-pod tower.
Sister Serra pointed across the way. “I saw her up there that day. She hailed me in the pods as normal. Then like that she passed to the Makers.”
The prioress scoffed. Jhee faked astonishment. “Is that where...?”
“A storm blew in after Saheli made the climb. We checked on her and found her passed out with the tower door open. Nectar drink and sticky paw prints everywhere. Drenched cat tore up the herb garden while we helped Saheli. It was good about keeping the crab-rats out but ate almost anything.”
After Serra showed them about the agri-pods, they returned to the herb garden.
“What’s up next on the agenda, Justicar?” Serra asked.
“The archives.”
“Lethys’s luck to you with that. Careful Justicar you committed the most grievous of sins. You failed to condemn me one too many times. You’ll be lucky if she lets you anywhere near the reliquary now.”
The Middle Spire
The prioress brought their group to the archival wing. While there, Jhee decided to improve her map. A structure this old and storied was bound to have many hidden architectural features. She had best get started learning them now. She might be able to find the building plans, island survey maps, and tide charts somewhere in their records. By the time their company reached the archives, Jhee had to keep her hands tucked in her robes to keep them still.
The archivist popped her head out from behind an enormous book stand when Jhee and her entourage entered the library. The archivist’s desk guarded the staircase to what appeared the only entrance to the library and reliquary proper. Anyone who wanted entry had to go through her.
She sniffed. “You.”
“Sister Elkanah,” Jhee said.
The prioress answered, “The abbess asked that I give the Justicar and her family a tour of the abbey.”
“I, also, thought perhaps you might show us around your magnificent archive,” Jhee said.
Sister Elkanah sniffed again. She directed a most scathing glare at the two men in Jhee’s entourage. It wilted in comparison to the one she reserved for Jhee.
“We’re quite busy.”
Jhee glanced around at the mostly empty library. A few Professed and the odd Prospective occupied the rows of desks which at one point might have housed hundreds. Many tables bore scratches and peeling surfaces. One section, though, boasted new, gleaming counters with good indirect lighting.
The archivist tucked the book she had been reading under her arm. As they passed by the head desk, a knot formed in Jhee’s stomach when she saw the archivist had several copies of Jhee’s fictionalized account of her travels with Jeja of Marpele, “Dispatches from Arrow Point,” arrayed on it.
“I take it you had time to review my requests again.”
“I have. I had some concerns.” The archivist stopped at the threshold of the archives and faced Jhee, the book she carried now fully visible. The faded cover of her grandmamere’s screed on marriage, politics, and race confronted her. Jhee’s stomach dropped through the floor. She almost smelled her hopes of extended time in the archives going up in smoke. “Quite controversial notions to be exposed to so young. A concern I had when I initially viewed your proposals.”
“You looked into my family history.”
“I was made aware of it and yours.” The archivist held her chin up high. “Seeing firsthand, you do not hold to your family’s controversial views on marriage, at least, has assuaged them. Nothing leaves the archives.”
“May anyone who takes holy orders access the archives?”
“Yes.”
Jhee continued when Sister Elkanah didn’t elaborate. “I couldn’t help but notice your carrels and duplicators. You do transcription and manuscript copying. I wondered if I might copy some of Thaedra’s works. I understand you have some of the original founding texts as well as one of the earliest reproductions of Thaedra’s cyphering manuals and schematics. I heard of its famed translucent pages which glimmer in the light.”
“Exposure to light and the elements can be extremely damaging to the text. Access to it is even more restricted. Duplication is on a case by case basis. While we have duplicators and conch image capture stations, not everything can be exposed to such direct lighting.”
“Understandable. I might be honored to even see it from a distance.”
“It’s best not to be too enamored of the trappings of earthly wonders. The true wonders are the miracles of the Makers. Thaedra’s schematics, while impressive, are the work of mere mortals. I debate they should even be housed with our most sacred of relics.”
“You hold, then there is no divine inspiration to her discovery.”
“We must concern ourselves more with following the path, which leads to reconciliation with the Makers. They are mostly secular works and as such must be put in proper context with respect to the teachings of the Makers. No males allowed in the arcane archives whatsoever or near our most sacred relics.”
“Not even to provide more hands for transcription and preservation.”
“The rough handling of their coarse, ungainly hands is as liable to pulverize as preserve our sacred relics. Women’s slender, more graceful fingers are perfect for capturing the nuances of scripture and formulae and the fine art of restoration. No, the most sacred books and relics are reserved for the eyes of women alone. Particularly given the vast array of arcane knowledge they contain.”
Jhee tucked her hands in her robes. This place and their backward rules. Kanto tugged on Jhee’s sleeve and shook his head.
“My family and I considered an outing to explore the grounds and island a bit. Would it be possible to view any survey maps of the area? Or travelogues and traveler’s accounts?”
“This isn’t some holiday resort and the library some brochure center.”
Sister Elkanah was pricklier than a pufferfish. Jhee usually had wheedled her way to the off-line catalogs by now. It didn’t help the woman pierced her pressure points.
“What of the works of previous abbesses? I saw an example of Saheli’s artwork outside the vizier’s chambers. I heard some of her artworks along with her final sermon are housed here in the archives.”
Kanto nodded at Jhee.
“I’m afraid males are not permitted to enter this part of the sanctum. Your husbands are welcome to wait here for us. We can circle back and pick them up later.”
Kanto stepped up, “Denbe, denme and I need to choose outfits for tea with the vizier.”
“The vizier?”
“Oh yes, Sister Elkanah,” Kanto said. “My esteemed wife took tea with her last night. She invited us to dine with her tonight.”
“Well, if the vizier, will allow you around her antiques, she must be reasonably confident you won’t damage them.”
“Nice to see the archives suffered minimal damage in the quake. Were you there during Saheli’s final sermon?”
“All the most prestigious residents were.”
Sister Elkanah drummed her fingers against the cover of grandmamere’s book.
“Forgive my overstepping at the feast, Sister Elkanah. Sometimes my passion for Mechanism gets the better of me. What I really might like to read are histories about the island and the Mist Abbess.”
“You’d do better to read the Cyclogenesis Sermons.”
A recommendation tantamount to calling Jhee impious. She counted to three before she spoke again. “Who’s your preferred sage? Kaerderon’s my personal favorite. Perhaps you’d guide me to where they’re kept.”
“I don’t have time for you now.”
“It’s important work you do here. Preserving all this history.” Jhee moved to some structure prints and arcane manuals on a carrel stand. “Are these old, renovation plans for the abbey? This must be the original designs of the Coral Cloister. And this, the vertical farming tower. Does this describe the preservation process?”
Sister Elkanah slammed the screed on a desk. “I thought you were taking a tour. Then be about your business and leave me to mine.”
Access to the archives had been within Jhee’s grasp. She cast a forlorn glance at them and the archivist as the three left. Was Sister Elkanah’s extreme reaction to the topic of the Mist Abbess more sinister than pious?
The Twin Spires
Every time Jhee wanted to inquire more into the details of the deaths, she remembered she had Mirrei with her.
“Are there lifts in the spires?”
“Stairs,” replied the prioress.
Mirrei’s labored breathing filled the corridor.
“Star Mirror,” Jhee said using Mirrei’s outside name, “would you like me to have someone escort you back to the room so you can prepare?”
Mirrei curtsied. “If my denbe thinks that’s best.”
“I do.”
Mirrei took her leave.
“I’ll show you where Saheli died.”
Jhee’s conscience tugged at her start with the Prospectives’ deaths. She considered exploring the isle and the place where the Prospective had drowned, but she should stay within the grounds so she would not be late for tea. “Would you show me to the Beach Tower?”
“Saheli collapsed in the Bridge Tower.”
“I’m aware.”
The prioress brought her to the Beach axis of the abbey where they climbed the long, spiral stairway to the top. She unlocked a door which led to a rotunda. Archways had been carved out and fitted with ornate railings to prevent mishaps.
“Is this door locked at all times?” The door did not show signs of forced entry. It had a flimsy lock which would not have taken much effort to prize it open.
“Usually, but it would not take much to open. We find many Prospectives a
nd Professed come up here to think and reflect. Much like the other spire, which was one of Saheli’s favorite places to seek solitude and contemplation.”
Thick layers of pollen covered everything. Most of the footprints weren’t recent, with Jhee’s and the prioress’s being the only new ones. Jhee trailed her finger through the pitted, green dust covering the railing. That spoke of several cycles of rain and drying since anyone had wiped it. She tried to conceive a logical explanation. “You did not think it unusual for the Prospective to have come up here alone?”
“Alone, yes. If I may be candid some come up here for much more unseemly pursuits which is why we had to start locking it. The abbess and I possess the only keys and sign it out as needed to those who petition for its use.”
Jhee dusted off her hands. The pollen had begun to bring tears to her eyes. “Are we so sure he was alone?”
“I keep the bed check. All the other Prospectives and Professed were accounted for.”
“What of the senior clergy?”
“What exactly are you implying, Justicar?”
“I’m trying to learn the positions of bodies in the system.” Jhee thought of what she had seen at the shrine. “All Prospectives are accounted for now?”
The prioress sucked her teeth. “Yes. And none are missing limbs, either.”
“Mind if I have a moment alone to explore the spire a bit?”
The prioress gave a curt bow before stepping out. This spire afforded a fantastic view of the glory and majesty of the sea, the only power greater than oneself. Isles dotted the landscape off until forever. The Blessed Isles. She savored the salt on her lips. Used to be all crystal blue waves and white sandy beaches at this time of day. She imagined how calm and meditative this place would be in clear weather.
The Blessed Isles. How many of those isles would remain once this was done? Lost to wind and erosion from the drenched shield. She remembered how far out you could see from the top rooms of her mountain home. No, she thought. They needed the shield to protect them from invaders who would violate their water boundaries and terrorize their lands. The barbarian threat was real. Yet, should they fight their own brother and sister races? Is that really part of the First Maker’s Design? The shield was best for them and us. It removed the temptation to war.
