"I had not heard this news. But I find it most gratifying. Thank you, Ginrel."
"You are most welcome. Before you take your leave from our compound, I would consider it a great honor to record your memories of Medosa to include in our writings."
"I would be very happy to do this."
Beaming, Ginrel threw open a door to reveal Polyper just as he was pouring his wine in obvious relishment of beginning the meal that was spread before him on the table.
Bread, meat with blackened streaks from searing over an open flame, and bowls of freshly picked greens and fruit all awaited him.
He looked up with a quick look of disappointment, just as the flask slipped out of his hands and spilled over onto his plate. He began sopping up the mess with the nearby cloth napkin.
"Oh. Ginrel. You bring a visitor."
"Lady Adalginza."
"Lady — ?" Polyper peered into the darkened hallway. "Of course! You look so — so healthy since the last time I saw you, young lady. Do come in. Would you like to join me for a meal?"
It was obvious to Adalginza that there were only enough portions for one individual. Though her stomach rumbled its own enthusiasm, she reluctantly declined.
"I have just finished the ritual of purification," Polyper explained. "This is my reward. A good meal. After being in meditation and going without food for three full days and nights."
"Please," Lady Adalginza said. "Eat. I would like to visit with Ginrel first anyway. I will return after you dine."
At that moment, another gnostic — a young female also dressed in the familiar white robes — came rushing through the door.
"Polyper! A matter most urgent has arisen. It requires your immediate attention."
Polyper looked mournfully down at the food. "Can it not wait?"
"No, sir. It is.." Her eyes grew big and round. "A fight. Physical violence, sir. Being exchanged by two of the young gnostic apprentices. Both males."
"By all that's holy. Very well..."
Mumbling, Polyper excused himself, stood, and followed hastily after the young woman.
Ginrel glanced slyly at Lady Adalginza, and grinned.
"I believe there is more food prepared in the kitchen. Follow me. We will both dine, and then we will talk of Medosa. Forgive my enthusiasm, but to meet someone who actually knew him. It is a blessing beyond words. Unless you are tired and wish to rest first?"
"I am actually quite refreshed." Adalginza herself was surprised at those words, considering the length of her journey. But she did feel renewed. "I will help you in any way I can."
In due time, and with full stomachs, she and Ginrel sat comfortably together in the underground archives where oil lamps provided a flickering view of the table with multiple scrolls laid out before them.
Ginrel meticulously recorded her words, pausing occasionally to replenish his pen by dipping it into a small well of ink.
"Medosa never made a difference between the children, whether they were savage or from the Crescent Houses," Adalginza told Ginrel. "His schoolrooms were always full in the beginning, before the parents of the savages began to fear that he was poisoning young minds."
"Medosa would never do such a thing."
"I know. It was unfortunate. And then the parents of the children of the Crescent Houses began to worry about their children associating so closely with the savages in these classrooms. But Medosa himself always treated us as equals. His only desire was that we learn to think independently, and for ourselves. He said this often."
"This teaching of the children of the tribes and the children of the Crescent Houses together has never been done before," Ginrel said thoughtfully. "Yet, this information is omitted from Lady Sagawea's writings."
"This does not surprise me."
"Medosa often sent back writings of his own, before his death," Ginrel said. "You were mentioned in them."
"Was I?"
Ginrel seemed hesitant, and Adalginza reached out to touch his hand lightly with her own. In the moist environment, she felt a cough and stifled it with the other hand.
"Though I am young, I have lived what seems like many lifetimes. And the wisdom I have gained teaches me one thing. It is better to tell the truth, no matter how harsh it might sound to other ears."
"Very well then." Ginrel visibly relaxed. "Medosa worried about you. And the influence Benfaaro had over you. He called it an unholy bond. And your mother, Lady Donzala, was too — indisposed — to protect you. Medosa did not know then that Benfaaro was Of The Blood. And that he was the leader of the savages."
"Sagawea used this information in her book, I presume."
"Yes, she did. She was as welcome to our archives as any other visitor. We had no control over what she ultimately did with the information."
"And so the whisperings about me must be many. Because of Lady Sagawea, it is probably being said that I am still under the unnatural influence of Benfaaro. And that I am a spy."
Ginrel dropped his eyes. "Such musings are in the book. Your husband, to his credit, was highly displeased about this. You should know these words belonged only to Lady Sagawea and not sanctioned by him. They were hidden until they became public. And then it was too late."
"You speak of Kalos? You know him personally?"
Ginrel looked startled. "I thought you knew. He has been here often. Reading about Medosa. And reading the words of Medosa."
"I did not know."
"He was eager to read the passages about you and your childhood at the Place of the Circles. And for any mention of the Seventh Crescent Moon..." Ginrel interrupted himself, to make a series of hand gestures designed to ward off evil at saying aloud the name of the lost House.
"When was Kalos last here?"
"Just within the last full passings of the moons. Before that, he was here almost every day. I am sorry, Lady Adalginza. I really thought you knew. I thought perhaps you had come to join him."
"It was my understanding that he returned to the frontier."
"No, he has been staying with..." Ginrel stopped himself, and looked away awkwardly.
"With Lady Sagawea?"
"Her estate is nearby. Her School of Minds is there."
"I see."
"She works closely with us, helping to maintain our archives."
Adalginza forced herself to assume a look of dignity.
"I'm sure Kalos wished to complete his research. That is explanation enough for his presence at Lady Sagawea's abode."
"Most certainly." Ginrel gave her a pitying look.
Adalginza was distracted and troubled as she then followed Ginrel up the stairs.
She realized now that the fleeting, familiar impression she had received while riding through the gate had been a brief mindlink with the Golden.
And this meant the animal was pastured on Lady Sagawea's land. Kalos and Lady Sagawea were spending much time together, and this deeply disturbed her.
When they entered Polyper's living quarters the second time, the table had been cleared. All evidence of food was removed. And Polyper had a look of immense contentment.
He gestured for Lady Adalginza to take a chair.
"You may go, Ginrel," Polyper said. "I trust you have been entertaining the lady in my absence."
"He has been most helpful," Adalginza said.
They exchanged looks, and Ginrel left.
Adalginza took a seat at the table, and Polyper moved into a chair beside her.
He had a slightly disheveled look, with unruly thatched hair that had the appearance of having never seen a comb. He brushed off a few crumbs of food from his robes, then folded his hands together in front of him.
"Now then. How may I help you?" As Adalginza coughed, he frowned. "You are ill again. Do you need a potion?"
"No, no. The cough is nothing, except evidence that the damp climate here does not agree with me. I am here because of a personal matter." Adalginza hesitated. "A matter of the soul, if you will. I would not have come here at all, except
I remember your name from when Medosa spoke of you. I was only a child then."
"Yes?"
"And he said that, if ever I had such a need, I was to come to you. That you could be trusted."
And then she fell silent.
This was much harder than she ever thought possible. Adalginza glanced around uncomfortably. The surroundings were so austere, almost foreboding.
Besides, who knew who might be listening? It was even possible that Benfaaro had spies planted even here.
"Is it possible to speak elsewhere?" she asked.
"Why don't we walk the grounds where it is more private?" Polyper suggested. "They are quite beautiful at this season. And the rain has passed for the moment."
And so it was that they walked for all of that afternoon. And talked. Nothing of great importance was said during that time, except the building of trust.
Adalginza spoke of her love for the Place of the Circles. Of her special bond with animals, absent of course the revelation that she could actually mindlink with them. Of the teachings of Medosa. But she never mentioned Benfaaro.
Nor did she intend to.
Finally, as the sun began to dip low in the horizon, they finally stopped on the crest of a hill overlooking a meandering river. Gentle rains came and went, softly misting their skin.
The only activity below them was the low, swooping flight of predatory birds looking for a last meal before it was time to seek a roosting place.
A series of dormitory style buildings extended throughout the valley below them.
"Perhaps we should move on." Polyper suggested uneasily. "Back toward the dome."
"No," Adalginza said. "We are alone. And it is time now to ask you my questions."
"Regardless of what Medosa told you, I may be the man he thought I was. I may not have the answers."
"The questions still need asking. I cannot tell you the reasons for them."
"The questions themselves will very likely reveal the reasons."
Adalginza took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Then tell me. What is the worst possible act that one human can commit against another? Is it murder? Or is it betrayal?"
Polyper gazed down into the peaceful valley below. He sighed.
"Medosa was betrayed. And he was murdered. He was much loved here. So these are questions close to my own heart as well."
"Yes. I loved him, too."
"Wherever he is now, I know there is still love in his heart. Even toward the man he foretold would take his own life. Benfaaro."
At Adalginza's alarmed look, Polyper smiled sadly.
"Medosa knew what his fate would ultimately be. Yet, he was very fond of Benfaaro. He saw within him — greatness."
Adalginza felt the pain of a certain loss, and realized how much she missed the brother of her childhood.
"Medosa was a gentle man. He demonstrated in every way that he had no intention of harm toward anyone." A tear trickled down Adalginza's cheek. "And here you tell me that he forgave and still loved the man he knew would kill him even before the deed was done?"
"Yes." Polyper took Adalginza's arm. "But we must be very clear about something, dear lady. Loving the person is not the same as loving what they do. And loving another person does not mean that we must do what they ask of us if such a deed betrays our own heart. Do you understand?"
Adalginza nodded. "At one time, no. But perhaps I do now."
Polyper smiled gently. "Then Medosa's teachings were not lost on you."
"Medosa would be ashamed of me." Adalginza dropped her head. "For I have betrayed my own heart. I have betrayed others. Many times."
"You have placed yourself in hell?" Polyper asked gently.
"Yes."
"And you are asking me to release you."
"Yes."
"Through forgiveness."
"Yes."
"I cannot."
Adalginza looked up at him through eyes now flooded with tears. "But why can you not do this for me?"
"Because I have nothing to forgive." Polyper dropped his hand from her arm. "Lady Adalginza, for what has happened in the past, those you have wronged must forgive you to escape their own hell. The choice is theirs alone. Beyond that, it is more important that you forgive yourself."
"How?" Adalginza whispered.
"Betray your heart no longer, even though it may take you where you do not want to go. But in those places, you may be led to actions that can help undo past sins."
"Why should I bother to redeem myself?" Adalginza asked despondently. "Is not death the final escape anyway?"
Polyper contemplated the question only briefly.
"No. You can never escape wrongdoing. Not even in death. People who take their own lives think this is so. But they are wrong."
"But it must be a way to escape. It has to be."
Adalginza heard the anguish in her own voice, for she was so counting on death for the eventual release of her own sorrow.
"Death is only a continuation of a life we do not yet understand. And in that new life, you still must be held accountable. Whatever you seek to escape from here, Lady Adalginza, will only be waiting for you on the other side."
"No," Adalginza whispered. "It cannot be like that."
"Life is your gift for Eternity. You cannot escape it, and you must make of it what you will."
"I wish only peace. For myself. And for others."
"Wishing and acting upon a wish are two different things entirely." Polyper gave her a crooked smile. "I understand your turmoil, dear lady. For something has been placed in my own heart that gives me much pain. I, too, must atone for a serious act of wrongdoing. It requires of me the sacrifice of comfort. And I so dearly love my comforts."
"I don't understand. What is it you must do?"
"I must go to the frontier to take the place of Medosa among the savages."
"Oh, Polyper. No. I cannot imagine anything more dangerous. You would be better off to place a knife to your own throat now, and save those you would teach the bother."
"Indeed. I am in a place of safety here." Polyper spread his arms to indicate the sweet harmony around him. "And love. Why would I feel so compelled to leave?"
"Ask me not. I do not understand mystics and their calling. Or why their numbers are so many in the House of the Eighth Crescent Moon."
"The calling is everywhere. For all people. They need only listen."
At that moment, Adalginza caught her breath. She saw in the valley below the familiar, muscular outline of Kalos. And with him was the tall, willowy figure of a woman, who was equally familiar.
Adalginza stood, stunned, as she watched her husband strolling, his head bent in a pose of intense listening. Then Lady Sagawea reached out, took his hand, and placed it over the slight swelling of her belly.
She was clearly with child. His child?
"I am sorry, Lady Adalginza," Polyper whispered. "Quickly. Let us leave, before we are seen."
Polyper took her arm and urged her to step back, as they both dropped over the crest of the hill toward the dome.
"Polyper, I have a question for you." Adalginza's voice trembled with sorrow. "We talked of forgiveness. We talked of redemption. But never did we talk of punishment. Is this my punishment then? That another woman should bear my husband's child?"
"Perhaps your eyes betray your heart."
"What else am I to think?"
Adalginza had thought herself incapable of more pain. Yet, the anguish she felt now tore at her very soul. The moon gods were surely angry with her to show her such a thing.
She gagged slightly, feeling faint, as Polyper took her arm to steady her. He pointed to a path in front of them, leading to the valley below.
"You can walk this path, straight to the valley. To your husband. And Lady Sagawea. Find the truth for yourself. The choice is yours."
Adalginza shook off his hand.
"No," she said. "I cannot bear the pain of it."
"The truth is sometimes painful.
But always it frees us."
"No. No more. I have had enough. In truth, I wish I had never come here."
Adalginza took the opposite path, leading back to the dome of the gnostics where her sturmon was now stabled.
Whatever delusional notions she had entertained of following her heart to a greater destiny had abruptly vanished.
She wanted only to escape. To somehow free herself of this newest pain.
Polyper followed behind her. He walked slowly, breathing hard, as though a heavy weight burdened his steps.
"Where will you go now?" he asked.
"Back to my grandmother's abode."
"What will you do there?"
"Whatever she asks of me. You already told me there is no escape in death."
Adalginza stopped, and waited for Polyper to catch up to her. Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding.
"My grandmother offers me sanctuary. She offers me security."
"She tells you what to do."
"At least she gives me purpose. I no longer know what my own heart says, for it is badly in need of mending."
Polyper looked as though he were about to say something, then stopped himself. Finally, he nodded gravely.
"The choice is yours alone."
***
As a child growing up in the Place of the Circles, Adalginza once owned a doll Medosa had fabricated for her from coarsely woven cloth stuffed with straw.
She had treasured the doll, adorning it with colorful clothing that Lady Donzala sometimes fashioned from scraps of discarded material.
The doll's hair had been shaped from the cuttings of Adalginza's own hair. Its eyes were made of precious stones, green and clear. They stared, lifeless, always in the same direction.
As a child in happier days, Adalginza delighted in braiding the hair of the doll, dressing her, and pretending that the lifeless object instead was a lady of fashion in a royal court in a faraway land of her own imaginings.
Adalginza was now that doll.
With her health fully recovered and her husband lost to another woman, Adalginza complacently allowed Lady Swiala to do as she wished with her long-lost granddaughter.
Even the cough she once had disappeared, as though too much effort was required to indulge the illness.
Besides, Swiala insisted on perfection in all things. Even health.
Ten Crescent Moons (Moonquest) Page 25
