“The opening ceremony for the festival,” he said. “Elder Rellius is leading it, along with Mayor Whitehall. It starts in the temple courtyard with a few speeches and prayers, then a procession will carry Faedra’s chalice from the temple to the town center, where Elder Rellius will bless the first night of festivities by giving all the townsfolk a sip of wine from the chalice.”
“I thought all the wine had soured?” she asked, to which Athan smirked.
“Phineaus donated his cartful of unspoiled wine to the festival.”
Dnara leaned back in surprise. “He did?”
“Yeah. It was his plan all along.” Athan chuckled with a shake of the head at the merchant’s antics. “He boasted such a high price that day in the market to deter buyers, and so he could appear even more generous when he donated it to the temple.”
The idea made her laugh, too, and she came to an unshakable conclusion. “He’s a good man at heart, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Athan agreed. “Although, he does hope to garner favor and sell more of his merchandise at the festival.”
“Well, he does have a family to support,” Dnara laughed out the lie and Athan laughed harder with her. “And maybe now he’ll sell those lamps.”
“Oh, those are all sold,” Athan informed. “I’m glad I got two when I did.”
“Did Penna and Tobin like your gift?”
“Our gift,” he corrected. He reached into his cloak and withdrew the second lamp from the hook on his belt. “And yes, they were quite pleased with it.” He held up the unlit lamp and examined it before handing it to Dnara. “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s kind of...pretty.”
Dnara took the lamp and glanced up, finding his eyes on her. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she refocused on the inlayed runes. “It should work, if you left it out in the sun.”
“I did, while I was at the Whitehall estate. Put it on a windowsill next to the three Garrett bought.”
Dnara let out a small laugh at that. “I thought he didn’t like the things Phineaus sells.”
“Everyone likes the things Phineaus sells, things you can’t get in Lee’s Mill without traders like him. Fabrics from Ka’veshi, Elvan masterwork tools, Orc’kothi medicines, and other odd things I have no idea where he picks them up.”
“He must travel a lot.” And to her, it sounded like an adventure, to see all those places she’d only read about in books.
“He does. He’ll leave here after the festival, maybe head north to the Orc’kothi lands if the mountain pass is open. He’ll be back eventually, though, with more things to trade.”
Her fingers splayed over the lamp’s glass and metalwork, her mind swimming with images drawn into the books she’d read. “It must be exciting, to see all those different places.”
“The scenery is nice,” Athan said. “And you meet interesting people from time to time. But, it can get tiresome, not knowing exactly where you’ll rest your head that night. ...And lonely,” he finished in a quieter tone, his eyes back on her.
Heartbeat fluttering, Dnara awkwardly joked, “But you have Treven. I bet he’s great company.”
“Sure, if you’ve got carrots.” Athan scoffed. “Not much for conversation, though.”
“You seem to understand each other well,” Dnara voiced an earlier observation that had been in the back of her mind since the day at Hector’s farm.
“Oh, well, I guess.” Athan looked off to the side, a hand raising to rub the back of neck. “We’ve... been together for... Well, it feels like forever. And, it’s not like Treven is all that hard to understand, stubborn smartass that he is...”
She wondered why the question had put him off balance. Perhaps, if they’d been together a long time, Treven neared retirement and Athan didn’t want to think about losing his friend. ‘How long do mules live?’, she thought, but didn’t dare ask, knowing it was for a far shorter time than humans. She wondered what that might feel like, to become so connected to another living being you feared losing them. When Athan’s distracted gaze settled back on her, she thought she may have an answer.
“Dnara,” he started unexpectedly then stopped again, words left unspoken with a million unexpressed thoughts swimming in his eyes.
It unsettled her heart, these unspoken things that seemed to be growing between them like an open field slowly giving way to forest. She feared losing him amongst the trees in a dark grove she never wanted to step foot in again. Her hand touched his, begging him to stay with her in the open field under an unblocked view of the stars.
“What is it?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
He continued to hesitate but took her hand into both of his and squeezed it back. After closing his eyes through a deep breath, he spoke. “There’s... There’s something I would like to speak with you about.”
When his eyes reopened, she did not understand what she saw within them. Fear skittered up her arms and the wind went still. Yes, she did know what it felt like, to be afraid of losing her connection to someone.
She offered a promise with the hope of easing his unsettled expression. “If you’re worried you’ll be stuck traveling alone with Treven, I’ve already agreed to go with you, remember? That hasn’t changed.”
His mouth opened around words waiting to be spoken then closed back around them. A thought crossed his gaze, wrinkling his brow and highlighting the freckles living there. Another bell tolled from the courtyard and he cast his gaze to the window. When his eyes returned to her, he had replaced uncertainty with a smile.
“I have plans to leave tomorrow morning,” he said. “I hope that’s not too soon?”
“It’s unexpected,” she hesitated. “But, you have put your livelihood on hold for me.” And she had inconvenienced his life enough. If he had a reason to leave Lee’s Mill so suddenly, then she wouldn’t fall back on her promise. “Yes, tomorrow morning would be fine.”
As she spoke, the bell tolled again, this time in a succession of joyful notes. “But,” she said through the melody. “Can we...” As soon as she began asking the question, her confidence faded for unknown reasons, trapped behind an unfamiliar barrier of embarrassment and anxiety at what his answer may be.
“What is it?” he asked, concern reappearing in his eyes.
Now, she felt foolish on top of the inexplicable embarrassment. After a deep breath, she threw worry to the wind and made her request. “Can we go to the festival tonight?”
Athan let out a relieved chuckle. “Yes, of course. Actually, I insist. It’ll be your first, right?”
“Yes. At least, the first I can remember.” Her brow narrowed as she attempted to bring memories to the surface, but the dark barrier shielding them would not give way. What had come before had not mattered during her years in the tower, so why should it matter now? No, she would not dwell on the forgotten. She would walk forward, out of the shadow. With Athan, she would create new memories to cherish.
Which, she couldn’t very well do sitting in bed. Moving the covers aside, the cool air tickled her legs and she realized suddenly she’d been laying there this whole time in naught but her underdress. Practical as it was, it revealed nothing, but that did not diminish her embarrassment. She’d lived for so long in nothing but a slave’s simple shiv and apron. It seemed silly that the lack of her overdress now caused her to feel exposed, but in Athan’s presence, it did. She had only a second of horror to consider the messy state her hair must be in before realizing it was all a futile and belated concern.
She closed the blanket tightly around her, barely fighting the urge to pull it up over her head. “I should get ready, then.”
“Right... Right!” Athan caught on, clearing his throat and looking away. “We feared another fever,” he explained. “So, two attendants... women... saw to your undressing. Your dress and hair clips are there, on the dresser. I’ll ask to have a washbasin brought up for you.” Athan stood and made his way to the door. “And, I’ll wait just outside, in the hallway.”
“Thank you.�
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He opened the door but hesitated at the threshold. His shoulders rose and fell in two breaths before he glanced back to her. “There is still something I would like to speak with you about, later, after we enjoy the festival, perhaps?”
Whatever it was, it obviously troubled him a great deal. She wished only to remove the burden from his shoulders, and made a silent promise to help him carry whatever worry weighed him down. “All right,” she said and found comfort in the return of his smile before he left the room.
22
If possible, the temple felt even quieter as Athan led Dnara down a set of stairs which gave passing glimpses of an empty courtyard below through small, arched windows. Elder Rellius and Mayor Whitehall had led the procession out of the courtyard towards the city center, Faedra’s chalice carried at the front, like the head of an undulating snake of people weaving its way through the streets. Not that she’d ever seen a snake outside of one illustrated in a book, but she imagined it would look like the lines of people faithfully following wherever the chalice led them.
The irony was not lost on her as she diligently followed Athan down to the last landing and turned right as he did, into a long corridor with windows out to the courtyard on one side and doors on the other. All the doors were open and empty, the attendants, monks and nuns following their elder priest beyond the stone temple walls. A large opening in the wall of windows led to the courtyard. On the opposite wall, shadows cast by the light of a dozen lit candles flickered along a stone archway. As Athan stepped into the courtyard, Dnara stopped, dazzled by the unexpected flames in a town slowly growing darker from extinguished fireplaces. Peering into the room, she found not a bed nor a praying monk, but four benches, an altar and a statue.
The statue stood tall and dignified; in one hand an open book, in the other an ink quill. A mouthless mask covered the face, but the rest of the statue’s features were distinctly masculine. A fine robe had been carved, intricate in its detail and so lifelike she thought it must feel like silk and velvet to touch. Though there were no patrons kneeling in supplication, a great many partially melted candles surrounded the statue’s slipper clad feet. The flames bent back and forth with a delicate wind, playing shadows along the wall and drawing her attention to the shape of the man, his stature, and the way the quill fit so naturally within an aged hand. In a strange moment somewhere between her last breath and the next, a sense of familiarity enveloped her.
“Dnara?” Athan called from across the hall before his bootsteps led him to where she stood, staring up at the masked statue and its open book. “There you are.”
“Who is this?” she asked without shifting her gaze away from the statue.
“The Storyteller,” Athan answered, stopping a step behind her.
“The Storyteller...” she repeated, hoping the name would reinforce the sensation of familiarity.
“Yeah, you know? God of Destiny?”
But, she didn’t know. Of all the gods she’d been instructed to learn about, she’d never been told this one’s story. “Why is he apart from the others?”
“He’s not worshiped by many in Carnath,” Athan explained. “We like to think ourselves the masters of our own destinies.”
“Oh.” She relaxed. “Maybe that’s why my keeper never spoke of him when he shared stories of the other gods.”
“Maybe,” Athan shrugged. “Ishkar is much more popular in Orynthis.”
Her heart stopped. “Ishkar?”
“Yeah, that’s his true name, those in Orynthis say. We just call him the Storyteller, because that’s what he does. He writes down the story of Ellium, what has happened and what will happen. Not... Not that I fully believe any of that. He was probably just some old guy from a long time ago who wrote down the history of kingdoms and wars and whatnot.” He paused, then said more quietly, “Except...”
“Except?” The word barely made it past a throat that had gone dry, her mind still hung on a name she’d done everything to forget.
“Well, there are the Oracles,” Athan continued. “Books of prophecy. Never seen one myself; not many have. They’re kept in a vault in Orynthis. Supposedly he wrote them, over a thousand years ago, and they contain verses that are supposed to describe events that haven’t happened yet. Or, at least they did. The last verse in the last book, if the scholars are to be believed, stopped after foretelling the Declaration of Oranges.”
“Oranges?” The confusion growing within Dnara’s mind only compounded the unease swelling her chest as she stood under the masked gaze of the statue bearing a name she should not know but did.
“Yeah... You know, the declaration by King Fornel to begin burning...all the...fields...” He trailed off as her head slowly shook from side to side, her eyes wide and her mind overwhelmed by all she did not know. “You don’t know? Do you know of King Fornel? King Lelandis’s grandfather? ...No? Okay, what about the Silent Agreement? The Four Pillars? ...The fall of D’nas Glas, or-” He stopped as her head shook without pause. “Just how old were those books in that tower?”
“Older than I had realized,” she whispered, as if speaking too loudly may awaken the statue, assured it would have a familiar face behind the mouthless mask. But, it couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. So many things in this world didn’t make sense...
“Dnara,” Athan, too, whispered, his voice hushed in concern as his hand touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong? You... You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have. Or, heard one, at least.” She faced away from the mask, meeting Athan’s gaze. “Is... Is Ishkar a name sometimes used by others as their own?”
Athan’s brow knit in confusion. “I... I wouldn’t think so. I mean, it’d take some ego to name yourself or your kid after a god, right?”
“The ego of a mage?” she asked, hopeful as yet to have some sense thrown upon a world she didn’t understand.
“Yeah, I guess if anyone would, it’d be a mage. Ishkar himself had to have been a powerful mage to have the gift of prophecy. Why do you ask?”
“My keeper is, was, a most powerful mage.” Dnara looked back up at the masked face, wishing to have it removed so she could ease the swirling uncertainty surrounding her in this small enclave. “But, gods don’t die, do they?”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” Athan replied instead of answering.
“Neither do I.” She reached out to a lit candle, held her hand over the flame and felt the heat tickling her palm. Words carried by the wind whispered from the shadows, pleading with her to understand, to give them a voice in a world that could not hear them. “There is so much I don’t understand, Athan. I feel close to an answer, a reason for all this...madness, but it eludes me.”
She stared into the flames, searching for an answer. “It’s as if the moments of joy and laughter are illusions, tricks of the wind’s whim in which I’ve been caught, pulled one direction then another, never finding balance. And when the joy ends, when I settle upon a moment like this where my view of the world is tilted by a single word, I feel like I’m still running through the forest, the wind howling at my back and the tower burning behind me. I can’t breathe, because the collar is back around my neck and the shadow chases me, and I just... I just want to stop running and have it all make sense!”
Her hand fisted over the flame and it snuffed out into a waft of gray smoke. A cascade of smoke circled the altar as all the candles blew out with a great breath of wind, plunging the statue into shadow. “I’m stumbling blindly through the darkness,” she whispered, shaken by fear of the unknown, and driven to madness by what she did know. “And I‘m so afraid of what the light will reveal. I’m so very afraid, Athan, of what I am becoming, and of falling alone into shadow as the darkness chases me.”
Athan’s arms came around her, pulling her to his chest and wrapping her within his cloak. He held her tightly, protecting her from the shadows that sought to unhinge her mind. “You’re not alone in this, Dnara. I’m here, with you.�
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“I feel so lost,” she said, hand clutching his shirt for stability.
“We’ll find our way,” he said in return. “There must be answers to all this, somewhere; a way forward for us both.”
The wind wove through her hair, and through the shadow, she could see the path opening before her. “I need to go back.”
“Go back?” Athan lifted his head away from her hair and searched her eyes.
“I must go back, if I’m to go forward.” Moonlight seeping into the open doorway glistened across unshed tears and gave light to her resolve. “To the tower, Athan. I must go back to the tower.”
In his eyes, she saw her fear reflected, and he hesitated before asking, “Why?”
“I believe there are answers waiting there. Answers I wasn’t ready to learn until now.” She knew it sounded like madness, suddenly wishing to go back to a place she’d run so fast and hard from. It was madness, but it was also the only thing that made sense. “I can’t explain it. All I can do is ask you to trust me. But, I understand if you must leave in a different direction than I’m headed.”
“This whole time,” he whispered, his hand raising from her shoulder to cup her cheek. “You’ve been following me. Trusting. Unquestioning. How could I deny you the same?” His thumb coasted down her cheek to her lips. His expression clouded with conflict then softened. “Dnara, I will follow wherever you lead, and I will do so happily as long as we are together.”
His words reverberated into her heart, quieting any remaining uncertainty. With one last, fleeting hesitation dissipating from his eyes, his head dipped downward until his lips brushed hers. A question, to which she only felt one answer. Eyes closing, she leapt into the waiting dark sea, knowing he would be there to catch her.
The warmth of his kiss flooded through her, igniting a fire that fought back the encroaching shadows. From where they stood, embraced within their own world, the candles sputtered back to life and danced in the wind. When their lips parted, the wind settled. They shared a smile, and she no longer feared the path before her.
When the Wind Speaks (Starstone Prophecies Book 1) Page 19
