Not sure what to say, Kath just nodded. The wonders of the monastery were truly marvelous.
Bryce led her back out into the corridor, but Kath’s gaze was drawn toward the far end of the hallway, to a midnight blue door. The forbidden color! Her first glimpse of a midnight-blue door tugged on her imagination. “What lies beyond that door?”
Bryce shrugged. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t say or you don’t know?”
His face reddened. “I don’t know. I’m only an initiate. Like you, I’m bound by the rule of color. Midnight blue doors are only for monks and masters. I’ll find out once I take my oath and am bound to the Order.”
“But aren’t you curious?”
“Of course, but I respect the rules.”
Hearing the honesty in his words, she asked no more questions, but the midnight-blue door haunted her mind. Pre-occupied with the mystery, Kath followed her guide back to her room. Along the way, Bryce said, “Take a close look at each of the doors.”
Kath studied the doors, surprised to notice a pattern of cut crystals embedded in the wood.
“The crystals are arranged in the shape of star constellations, with a different constellation marking each door. Your door bears the constellation for the big ladle. Just remember to look for the big ladle and you’ll find your room.”
Kath hadn’t noticed the star patterns before. Running her fingers across the raised crystals, she wondered what else she’d missed.
Bryce opened the door to her room. “You’re to have a private audience with a master in a turn of an hourglass. I can leave you here to rest in peace or I can try and talk the cook into parting with a pot of tea and some biscuits from lunch.” He flashed a friendly smile. “Which will it be, privacy or company?”
She was tempted to have some time to herself, but she needed to learn as much about the monastery as possible. “Tea and biscuits sounds great. Breakfast was a long time ago and there was no time for the noon meal. Besides, I am truly enjoying your company.”
Bryce flashed a broad smile, reminding Kath of Jordan’s brother, Justin. “Your wish is my command. I’ll see to the tea at once, while you make yourself comfortable.”
Kath could not help but laugh. She liked the young monk-initiate and was glad to have him as her guide.
With a parting smile, Bryce closed the door behind him. Kath used the time to visit the amazing privy and then to organize her meager belongings. She wondered how her friends were faring. Sir Tyrone and Duncan would both be eager to explore but she wondered what Jordan and Sir Blaine thought about it all. Kath was looking forward to sharing her discoveries with her friends.
A polite knock sounded on the door. She opened it to find Bryce juggling a teapot, two cups, a plate of biscuits, and small jar. Giving her an impish grin that Kath was growing to like, he shrugged. “The cook likes me.”
They sat cross-legged on the warm floor with the teapot between them. The idea of sharing a meal of smuggled food appealed to Kath’s sense of fun. She was glad she’d ask the young monk to return…yet she hesitated over the tea. “Is this safe?”
“Yes, of course!” Understanding sobered is face. “Oh, the tea ceremony. That was only a precaution, but now you’re safe inside our walls.” He shrugged, giving her a disarming smile. “It’s just tea.” He took a sip and then held up a small jam jar like a rare prize. “You have to try the raspberry jam. The berries grow all over the mountain. The cooks have a way of turning them into a heavenly jam, a rare taste of summer.”
Kath spread the thick red jam on one of the biscuits and took a bite. Her mouth flooded with the tart taste of summer. “It’s good!” They shared the biscuits, slathering them with jam and sipping tea while Kath plied Bryce with questions. “So how did you come to be an initiate of the Order?”
“My father is a monk. I’ve always wanted to join the Order.”
Kath choked on her biscuit. “Your father?” The idea that monks could marry and have children shocked her. “So is your mother is a monk as well?”
“Oh no. Mother is an expert candle maker. She owns the chandler shop in Haven. I have five siblings and they’ve each chosen to make their way in Haven or down in the flatlands. I’m the only one who followed father into the Order.” With a touch of pride in his voice, he added, “I was accepted at the age of twelve. I’ve been an initiate for a little more than ten years now. To me, the monastery is home.”
“So why do you want to be a monk?”
“What I really want is to be a healer. There’s nothing like the gratitude in a stranger’s eyes when you ease their pain. If you haven’t seen it for yourself, then it’s hard to explain, but once you experience the rewards of healing, it fills your soul till it’s all you want to do.” The young man looked away, as if lost in thought. “I was lucky to be born in Haven, at the very doorstep of the monastery. There’s no better place to learn any craft than with the monks, and it’s especially true for the art of healing.” Pausing he added, “In Haven, we have a saying. The monks remember more than the rest of the world has forgotten.” Shrugging, he said, “Once I take my vows, I’ll not only be a healer but I’ll also have access to the libraries. Master Garth, my mentor, believes there are many methods of healing lost to the memories of man. He believes these remedies reside in the libraries of the monastery. Just a few turns of the moon ago, he re-discovered the recipe for a forgotten herbal solution effective in treating the bending disease of old age. It’s not a cure but it eases the pain and it allows the joints to move with more flexibility.” Suddenly turning shy, the young man looked down at the floor and said, “I’m sorry if I babbled on, but I have a passion for healing.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”
The timber of his voice and the sparkle in his eyes proved the young man had found his true calling. Bryce reminded her a bit of Quintus, Castlegard’s master healer. Before Kath could ask any more questions, he glanced at the small window, a startled look on his face. “The afternoon grows late. I should take you to the garden for your audience with the master. Mustn’t be late for that.”
Gracefully rising from the floor, he ushered Kath toward the door. She was about to leave when she remembered her rucksack. She darted back to grab it from the bed.
“No need to take that. It will be safe in your room.”
Kath slung the rucksack over her shoulder. “No, I want it with me, especially for this meeting.”
Shrugging, he hurried her out of the room, leading her back into the maze of yellow-gold corridors. Kath tried to memorize the twists and turns but all the corridors looked alike. They eventually came to a set of steps that led down to another golden corridor. The temperature grew warmer. Kath guessed they must be close to the source of the hot springs. And then she noticed the doors. Instead of cut crystals; each door had a small glass-paned window, each one fashioned in a different geometric shape. Bryce stopped in front of a door with a diamond shaped window. “This is one of our gardens of contemplation. Enjoy the garden while you wait. A master will meet you here shortly. I’ll come back for you when the evening bell rings for dinner.” He made a formal bow, his voice turning solemn. “Seek knowledge. Protect knowledge. Share knowledge. May you find wisdom in your conversation with the master.”
Kath stepped through the door into a room full of green. Plants of every description crowded the walkway. Warm, moist heat wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She breathed deep, enjoying the lush scent of moss and leaves mingled with the smell of rich, moist soil. Beams of sunlight streamed through a vaulted ceiling, adding spears of warmth to the garden. She stared up in wonder, surprised to find a ceiling made of glass. Amazed, she turned to take in the whole of it. Like a glass jewel filled with summer, the garden proved a wonder.
Tearing her gaze from the ceiling, she explored the depths of the garden. A narrow walkway led down and around a raised reflecting pool. Stone benches stood at strategic spots along the quiet pool, lush plants crowding the ra
ised beds on either side. Statues peered out from among the green, faces frozen in marble. Kath strolled toward the back, her fingers caressing the leaves. Overhead, the clouds shifted, sending a single shaft of sunlight to illuminate a stone statue at the far end of the garden. Intrigued, Kath moved closer, peering through the leaves.
Carved out of white marble, the statue portrayed three creatures sitting in a row. The odd little creatures had rounded ears and long tails of animals, but they also had human-like hands and feet. Their flattened faces looked vaguely human, like mythical caricatures of man. But the oddest aspect was the way the artist had given each creature a different human gesture. The first covered his ears with his hands, the second covered his eyes, and the last covered his mouth. Kath stared at the statue, trying to understand the riddle cast in stone.
A deep masculine voice said, “So I see you’ve found our statue of the three monk-keys.”
Startled, Kath pivoted to meet the gaze of a tall athletic man in his late fifties. Dressed in robes of midnight blue, the monk had short gray hair peppered with black. His face was weathered by the sun and creased with deep laugh lines. The kind of face leavened with wisdom and experience and a touch of humor.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” The monk studied her with jewel-blue eyes that sparkled with amusement but also spoke of hidden depths. “My name is Master Rizel and I am pleased to meet Princess Katherine of Castlegard. The Grand Master extends his welcome. He is pleased that you chose to accept his invitation.”
Caught off guard, Kath didn’t know what to say.
Gesturing toward the statue, the master said, “The gardens are full of many things that catch the eye and tease the mind. It is always insightful to see what speaks to a guest.”
Kath didn’t know if the statue had ‘spoken to her’, but it certainly was curious. She waited in silence to see where the conversation was going.
He gestured to a bench directly across from the statue. “Shall I tell you the story behind the statue?”
Intrigued, Kath joined him on the bench. Without waiting for a reply, the monk took up the cadence of a storyteller. “This statue is one of the oldest pieces of art in the Order’s collection. It is also one of my favorites. A traveling monk discovered it in a distant empire and was so impressed with the lessons behind the carving that he had it transported at great expense back to the monastery. According to the records of that time, the god-emperor Diabolus came down from the heavens to give his people a new law, the Law of Virtue. Diabolus promised the people that if they followed his Law then peace and prosperity would reign for a thousand years. The Law of Virtue was simple, it said that if the people refused to hear evil, refused to see evil, and refused to speak evil, then evil itself would be banished from the land and peace would reign. Seeing wisdom in the Law, the people of the empire set out to live by the new code, but what they did not know was that the god Diabolus was really another guise for the Dark Lord, and above all else, the Dark Lord is always the Great Deceiver. Mistaking Diabolus for a Lord of Light, the good people of the empire adopted the Law of Virtue. In the years to come, the people looked away and closed their ears, giving the true minions of Diabolus free reign to perpetrate every dark desire. Innocents were killed and tortured in the streets of the cities but the public closed their ears to the cries for help. Children were enslaved and put on the auction block for sale but the good citizens closed their eyes and refused to see. Property was stolen to support the minions of Diabolus but the public refused to speak of the crimes. In the end, the streets of the empire ran with blood and chaos. Riddled with decay and evil, the empire crumbled from within. The survivors of the catastrophe commissioned this statue to remind their people that it is the duty of every citizen to hear evil, to see evil, and to speak of evil. For ignoring evil is the surest way to aid the Dark Lord. Only by confronting evil directly can it be destroyed.” Gesturing toward the statue, the master added, “The ancient empire is long gone, but the lesson of the statue remains.”
Listening to the tale, Kath could not help but think of Coronth. “Like the Pontifax and Coronth.”
He gave her a solemn nod. “Just so.”
Remembering Justin’s ballads about the Flame God, Kath realized his songs were meant to be a musical version of the statue. She hoped Justin fared better than the monk-keys and their failed empire. “So the past has a way of being reborn?”
“Unless we learn from the past, evil has a way of returning.”
Thinking of the endless corridors covered in illuminated text, Kath realized the monastery was all about remembering. “So why do you want me here?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “I think you already know…but perhaps you need to hear it anyway.”
Kath nodded, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“The Kiralynn Order is ancient, as old as the Age of Magic. The War of Wizards caused the world to forget many things…but the Kiralynn monks remember.” His jewel-blue eyes pierced her to the core. “One of the most important things the world has forgotten…is magic.”
Kath gasped, reaching for the gargoyle hidden beneath her tunic.
“Very little magic remains in the world below the mountains. And even more dangerous, there is little understanding of magic in the minds and the hearts of men. In such a world, a single focus can be very powerful, a mighty force for good or ill.” She heard the threat in his voice. “The Kiralynn monks keep watch over the kingdoms of Erdhe. When magic appears, we invite the person keyed to the focus to come to the monastery. We help these people to understand and control their focus. For some, we also offer refuge from the world below. Some magics are too powerful to remain in the kingdoms of Erdhe. Many choose to live in the monastery where they are accepted and can use their magic in peace.” Pausing, the master added, “We know of your gargoyle. We offer to teach you how to use it, and, if you wish, we offer you sanctuary.”
Kath tugged on the leather cord revealing the small mage-stone figurine. “But how did you know?”
The master smiled. “Not all monks serve in the monastery.”
Kath’s eyes widened. “So do you know what it does?”
“The key is in your dreams.”
“But my dreams make no sense!”
He gave her an amused smile. “That is because you refuse to accept the possibility of magic. In the dreams induced by a focus, the bearer always performs some type of magic. The magic you do in your dreams is the magic of your focus.”
Kath gaped. “But that’s not possible!”
He chuckled. “You underestimate the power of magic.”
Kath’s mind reeled. She tightened her fist around her gargoyle, determined to unlock its secrets. “I want to learn.”
He gave her a satisfied smile. “Then it will be arranged.”
Remembering the crystal dagger, Kath reached for the rucksack. “There’s something else I need to show you.” She watched his face, noting how his eyes widened as she removed the golden box. His response told her that the monks did not know everything. “I found this in a ruined tower in the wilds of Wyeth.” She opened the box and revealed the crystal dagger. “Can you tell me what it is?”
The breath hissed out of him. “Something rare and unlooked for.” He gave her a complex stare that was hard to read. “Who else knows about this?”
“Only Sir Tyrone and Sir Blaine.”
“Good, best if you keep it that way.”
“But why? What is it for?”
“The crystal dagger is a herald of dark times. Daggers like this one were created during the Age of Magic. A powerful weapon of the Light, it is a bane to an ancient evil. The daggers only reappear when the ancient evil is reborn.” Lowering his voice, he added, “The burden to use the dagger falls to the one chosen to find it.”
Kath shivered, staring at the dagger. “Can you tell me about this evil?”
“To understand this evil, you must know something about the Lords of Light and the Dark Lord. The Lords of Light r
eward their followers in heaven, in the after-life, but the Dark Lord offers something different. To those who serve him well, the Dark Lord offers more than one life.”
“It’s not possible.” Kath shook her head in disbelief, but the master continued, his voice laden with conviction. “A select few who serve the Dark Lord are given twice the lifespan of a normal man and when that life is over, if they have pleased their Dark master, instead of crossing the gray veil of death, they are reincarnated back into this world.” The master paused, lowering his voice. “What makes these creatures so potent is that when the reincarnated reach the age of twenty or so, they are Awakened with the full memories of all of their past lives. Imagine a man with the memories and experiences of hundreds or even thousands of years. The reincarnated are an unfathomable evil. These monsters that walk in the guise of men are called harlequins. A dagger made from a Dahlmar crystal is the only weapon that can break the cycle of rebirth. If a harlequin is killed with a Dahlmar dagger then its evil soul is consigned to hell, never to be reborn again.”
Kath sat statue-still, chilled by the tale. It seemed impossible, yet the conviction of his voice held sway. “Why have I never heard this before?”
“So much has been forgotten, lost since the War of Wizards, but the Kiralynn Order remembers. Knowledge is our purpose.” The master’s voice softened, his voice touched with sadness. “You are young to have such a burden placed on your shoulders. If you do not wish to accept this task, then I advise you to seek out the tower where you found the dagger and return it to its hiding place. Another champion will be called to take up the weapon of Light.”
The choice surprised her. “I have a choice?”
“There is always a choice. Free will is the greatest gift of the Lords of Light. But choose carefully, for the gods work in mysterious ways.”
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 50
