“Thanks. I think.”
The others emerged, one by one. Tressa looked perfect, her smaller form not making it cling at all. Bellona looked like a warrior princess, and she was none-too-pleased about it. The men looked even better, given that there were no formed shoulders or cut-outs at all in their capes, allowing them to more completely conceal their bands.
When we were all finished, we went back to Niero, who was now stripping down to his long johns and T-shirt himself. “Apparently, no dunking, no dinner,” he said to us, and nodded over to two monks who stood behind him, staring dead ahead, staffs out at an angle in their right hands. They looked like really relaxed guards. But also very serious about their work.
I was just reaching out to try and read one of them when Niero dived in.
“Hey, Raniero,” Ronan called carefully when he emerged, halfway down the long pool. Niero turned over on his back and looked back at us. “Just get your dip done. Don’t take time to go in the hot pool. I’m hungry.”
We all stared in his direction, willing him to get what Ronan was really saying. I didn’t know if he did, only felt relief when he nodded once and dived down again. As he bathed, one by one we lifted our swords and small shields and daggers, placing them on our person.
“You will not be allowed to take those inside the palace,” Zulon said quietly.
“I’m afraid I don’t go far from my sword,” Killian said.
“Then you shall not be entering the palace. You may sleep out here,” he said, gesturing to the smooth stones around the pool.
Killian stared down at him.
He stared back, unwavering. I could detect no fear within him. Again, I could detect nothing at all.
“There is no need for weapons here, friend,” Zulon said simply. “You are in no danger.”
Niero came up behind us and then between us. “Leave them,” he said tiredly, and we all followed him and Zulon back into the palace, pausing by the door to place our swords, shields, and daggers in a small armory locker. I suspected every one of my fellow Ailith did as we had been trained — and kept at least one dagger strapped to our legs. We were never to be completely unarmed. It had been drilled into us from the start. When I was just short of my first decade, I could hit a three-inch target with a dagger from ten paces. Now I could do it from twenty.
So it was that when we entered the peaceful rooms of the monks’ sanctuary, we felt more vulnerable and ill at ease than when we entered Zanzibar.
CHAPTER
27
Vidar paused beside me. “You all right?”
“Yes. Why?” I asked, irritation still lacing my tone, and now focused on him.
He gave me a searching look and then turned away with a shrug. What was that about?
Ronan eased me forward, a hand on my lower back.
“Please,” I said, sidestepping away and trudging on. I wasn’t sure why I was so agitated. Maybe I’m just hungry. And tired. I’m so tired. I’ll be fine after a few hours’ sleep.
We turned and stared down a long, low table that dominated the dining room, lined with men in red robes. It struck me again that the women we’d met on the desert’s edge had disappeared. Perhaps they had their own quarters, or were not allowed as part of whatever holy order they belonged to. It figured. The king of Pacifica advocates some sort of religion … but it doesn’t allow women.
But at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care much more about it, since the food smelled delicious. The last thing we’d eaten was a bit of bread the day before. We hurriedly sat down in a line together, each taking a separate, wide cushion on the floor and crossing our legs as the monks did. As soon as we did, servants came out — appearing like young monks in training, just past their first decade, dressed in the same red robes — and set a small bowl before each of us. It smelled delicious — a clear broth with onions and some other sort of vegetable floating within it.
We waited for our hosts to begin, and when they each took a sip we hurriedly did the same. But whereas they took their time, setting their bowls down, we had a hard time stopping. Within seconds, I was sure that every one of the Ailiths’ bowls were empty, our mouths burned by the delicious, hot broth. We quietly waited, hoping there would be second helpings, or something else offered, because that had barely taken the edge off our collective hunger.
Happily, the servants appeared again, clearing our bowls, followed by others delivering a plate full of steamed rice and some sort of white meat, and even more curious, a bright orange vegetable.
“I think they’re carrots,” Ronan said, thoughtfully chewing his second bite. We’d only seen carrots in books.
“And the meat?” I whispered back.
He shrugged. All our lives, we’d had lots of meat. Mostly mudhorse. And mostly dried. This, soft, light, moist meat, never dried, was a wonder in my mouth. Where had they gotten such a treasure? And enough to serve so many? I suspected it might be indicative of the wealth ahead of us in Pacifica.
I ate every kernel of rice, rolling the last over the roof of my mouth to memorize the size of it, the texture. I’d only had rice twice before, and it had been years. They passed a platter of fruit afterward — I could identify apples and oranges and what I suspected were bananas. Fresh, not dried, they looked decidedly different. But there were several pieces I put into my mouth that exploded with sweet, tart, acidic flavors, though I had no idea what they were. In the end, I took a deep breath and resituated myself on the pillow, exploring the feeling of my full belly.
All, my life, it was understood that every meal was a gift, and it was never assumed we’d have three the next day. We never took more than our share, and never as much as we wanted. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we took a modest portion, then found in sitting, talking, and laughing, we were fine. We’d had enough. But tonight I’d experienced fullness in a whole new way. It felt vaguely uncomfortable. And yet wonderful too.
Tea was passed, cups ceremoniously filled. No one looked at one another. No one spoke. When everyone had had adequate time to finish their tea, the two men at either end of the long table rose, bowed, and pivoted on their heels to exit. The others followed, and we did as well. I hoped we’d be led to our quarters, because now I was outrageously weary, thinking I could stretch out on the dining table behind us and be perfectly happy until morning.
Zulon stopped in the hallway, bowed to us when we had gathered, and then led us to a corridor with open door after open door. He gestured two of us in at a time, frowning a bit as men and women entered together. I prayed he wouldn’t take issue — because there was no way our knights would leave their Remnant here, in this foreign palace, regardless of how tranquil it seemed. Not after what we’d experienced at Castle Vega. Bellona and Ronan could’ve switched places for the night, I thought, but that would still leave an odd couple. And the rooms were clearly meant for two. Only Niero entered alone.
Ronan and I looked about and then to the doorway on the hall, which held no door within the gap. I supposed they wore their red robes either by day or night, and lived communally, so they felt no need for privacy. There were two narrow beds, one on either side of the small room, and on the other side, a wooden door between two windows. I opened it and peeked out, then smiled, exiting fully onto a narrow balcony, which perched over the river below. We were on the second of what appeared to be twenty such balconies on this floor. To my right, I could see the falls. To my left, the curving slant of the canyon wall — the way we’d entered.
Above the balconies was the floor of another, not as deep as our own, but covering the whole width and beyond it. Perhaps a deck of some sort off a larger room above us. A shiver ran down my spine when I imagined it to be Keallach’s, then I shook the idea away. Surely his quarters were in an entirely separate part of the palace.
But still. I stared up at it. What if … What if he’d built this place, allowed these monks here, because he felt the call of the Maker? He’d been born as we were, on the seventh day of the seventy-
seventh year. Did he not have the same call upon his heart? Was he wrestling with it, even if he’d become misguided?
Ronan joined me at the balcony rail and leaned down, forearms on the wall. He whistled softly. “It’s beautiful. Utterly peaceful,” he said in awe.
“Agreed.” I peered over the edge and watched as the water flowed past; even its pace seemed relaxed. “I could stay here a long, long while. A daily bath. Food. And a bed. Ronan, a bed.”
He smiled at me and let his eyes rove over me a moment too long to simply be friendly. They held a hint of Vidar’s open admiration, and again, I felt pretty in my red robes. The first time I’d felt like that in days … since Vega. I bit my cracked lip and turned away, feeling every inch of my skin come alive with awareness. Not wanting to delve into such thoughts and feelings — thoughts and feelings that inevitably left me feeling lonelier than before. Ronan and I can never be together. Never. Keep your eyes on the bigger prize, Dri. Conquering the world for the Maker. Setting things right that have been wrong for so long.
I turned and took my bundle of clothing from a monk, curious how he knew which was mine but thankful for the distraction. My only clothes from home — and the Pacifican gown — were in a simple burlap bag. As I set it on the floor and pulled them all out — ostensibly to repack it to be ready for tomorrow — I wondered if any of us were truly clear on any goal besides surviving the following day. It increased my agitation, thinking about that. Of going from place to place, trying to stay alive and keep my friends alive. It seemed impossibly far, our ultimate goals. Of freeing Kapriel and making a way for a coming king. Of saving people who could put our world back into some semblance of order again. Of building a society that would honor the Maker. There was too much in the way. Too many against us — and the farther we got from home, the more daunting our call became.
CHAPTER
28
I need to walk,” I whispered, abruptly standing.
Ronan looked over at me, and rose, leaving only half his profile visible in the flickering lamplight.
“No,” I said, lifting a hand to him. “I need to go alone.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ronan. We’re surrounded by a couple hundred peacable monks. They’re probably all asleep by now. We’ll be out of here come morning. Can you give me a break? Rest? A little alone time? I’ve been surrounded by people for weeks.”
His lips clamped together. Then, “I can give you the illusion of time alone. Twenty paces. But I go with you.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he crossed his arms and shook his head.
“Fine,” I said, acting irritated, but secretly glad. I turned and walked out of our room, then down toward the dining room and out to the wide verandah, well aware that Ronan trailed me as he’d said he would. The sun had set, and the clouds rolled in, thick, and, by the smell of it, heavy with rain at last. But there was just enough light to see the rolling paths that moved around the palace, beneath more trellises heavy with flowers and beside other greenery all along the way. I thought I’d never seen anything so lovely, so pristine and refined, and preferred it to the showy wealth of Lord Jala’s home.
It was far more earthy. Real. As if it was a place blessed by the Maker’s hand itself.
A monk moved along, lighting small lanterns, and at the end of one path I discovered a tiny garden cupped by a high, wide wall. With no way out but to go the way I came, Ronan paused, retreated ten steps, and then sat on a low wall to wait for me. But I was in no hurry to leave. I walked past benches, letting my hand drift through the tall, waving, exotic grasses and flowers, smelling their perfume in the air. I circled three times before settling on the bench and looking up, watching the clouds, ready for the rain to fall — almost wishing to feel its well-known, cold drops on my face. But after a while, the clouds parted and stars sparkled against a deepening blue sky.
“You’ve chased away the rain,” said a voice.
I jumped and sensed Ronan rising at once, but my attention was on the far corner, where the newcomer approached. I’d not sensed another’s presence at all. Was there a hidden gate there?
“Forgive me,” said the young man, smiling shyly as he entered the light. He lifted his hands and stepped forward, and I could see he was in the red robes of his brother monks. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Or your friend,” he said to Ronan as my knight hovered, now five paces away. The stranger’s face was open and friendly. And handsome. A layered face, with depths that begged exploring. And his eyes … There was something about his eyes that made me want to stare into them.
I searched him and found no threat within, only curiosity. And I immediately relaxed. Even if he was the most strangely attractive monk I’d ever met … he was still a monk. There was a sense of familiarity in the air, welcoming, and I took a deep breath as he sat down across from me and looked up to the night sky.
“We’ll leave you,” I said, rising. “We are obviously intruding on your space.”
“No. There is no place within the sanctuary that isn’t meant to be shared. Will you not stay?” He looked up at me, and his expression was hopeful.
I paused, confused. None of the other monks had seemed interested in chatting. They appeared to largely live in silence.
“There is room enough for us all, yes? Enough to share and yet still find tranquility in our own small sphere. That is the exercise of this place.”
“I-I suppose so,” I said, tentatively taking a seat again. Ronan sat down again too, but this time on the end of the wall, closer at hand. Our new companion didn’t seem to mind. Again, all I read in him was warmth. Friendliness. My armband only elicited a warm hum, so I settled back. Perhaps I could gain good information, if this monk was willing to talk.
“Do you make a study of the stars?” he said, staring upward, hands tucked beneath his thighs. He looked to be about as tall as Ronan, broad and strong across the shoulders. His profile was regal.
He looked to me and I hurriedly stared toward the skies again.
“I do,” I said, agitated. “But I’ve only seen them a handful of times. Where we come from, it’s rare.”
“Oh?” he asked, his curiosity spiking at the same time I read Ronan’s displeasure in the space between us. “Where are you from?”
“Far from here,” I hedged, daring to study him again in the flickering candlelight when he looked to the stars again. Straight nose. Wide eyes, rounder than Ronan’s, the hint of a smile at his lips, as if he were playing a game. I thought I sensed glee from him for a second, but then it was gone. My eyes narrowed. Was he toying with us? “Have you always lived here?”
“Me? No,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned forward, arms on knees, and met my gaze without blinking. “But where I am from, the moon and stars come out nearly every night to welcome those beneath them.”
“That must be lovely,” I said, looking up again. “Does it not rain where you are from?”
“Come Hoarfrost, yes.”
“Then you are from Pacifica.”
“Indeed. It rains, but not as it does in other areas of the Trading Empire.” I let his words rumble around my head. Not Trading Union, but Trading Empire.
“How long have you abided here?” I asked.
“Off and on, throughout my life, really.”
“All your life?” I blinked in surprise. Perhaps he’d been like one of the younger monks in training we’d seen earlier.
He nodded and looked up. “Do you know your constellations, new friend of the Valley?”
Again, I moved in surprise. So he’d guessed exactly where I was from. But he didn’t seem to be gloating. Or intending to use it against me in some way. What use was it anyway? What harm would it be for him to know? “How do you know that? Where I’m from?”
“Your accent,” he said easily, still staring upward. “See there to the west, just over the edge of the canyon? Gemini. And over there, Pleides, or the Seven Sisters.”
I squinched my eyes and peered at the sky, tryi
ng to make out what he was gesturing toward. “I have no accent.”
“You do. It’s a gentle, rounded, warm tone you of the Valley share. I’d recognize it anywhere. I had a tutor, once, from your lands. Do you see Gemini yet?”
I shook my head.
“Here,” he said, rising. “If we put out this torch, we’ll see all the better.” I felt Ronan draw closer as the monk moved, felt his wariness. But the monk only sat down again, a dark shadow now. We looked up, and I knew he’d been right; it was far easier to see now.
“There, to the west?” he asked gently.
“Maybe … I think so.”
“Do you know the story of the twins of Gemini?” He lifted a hand to the sky.
“No.”
“Zeus desired a woman named Leda, and seduced her in the form of a swan the same night she lay with her husband, Tyndareus. From that night, two eggs were created, one bearing two sons, and one bearing two daughters. The girls were Clytemnestra and Helen.”
“Of Troy?”
His eyes met mine in surprise and delight. “You know of Greek mythology?”
“I know some,” I said. “But I’m not familiar with that story.”
“It’s a good one,” he said, rubbing his palms together, then lacing them behind his head and looking upward again. “Helen of Troy was supposedly the most beautiful, but her sister had many, many suitors of her own. But when you are possibly the daughter of Zeus, half immortal, perhaps that makes you all the more enticing, wouldn’t you think?” He was looking at me again; I could tell from the sound of his voice.
“Perhaps. But they’re nothing but stories. Fanciful tales to entertain the masses.”
“Perhaps,” he said, as if setting aside my comment. “The boys were Castor and Pollux. Some say that one was immortal and one was not. When Castor died, Pollux begged Zeus to make him immortal, and they were reunited in the heavens.” I felt a brief pang of sorrow within him, but as quickly as I identified it, it was gone. Sorrow over the ancient gods? It made no sense. Perhaps I’d imagined it.
Season of Wonder Page 31
