Pinny flashed a smile at him and then turned her attention back to the shimmering dance of lights below.
"Do I know how to pick a good campsite?" Crane whispered to Hetta.
She smiled and gave him a gentle punch in the ribs. "You do," she admitted.
Garrett glanced away as they shared a hug, and his thoughts turned to Marla.
"Where's that one going?" Mujah asked.
Mujah was pointing at one wisp, a flickering green sphere that had risen above the rest and was slowly drifting skyward, already far above the tops of the garden trees. A few moments later it had begun to disappear into the low-hanging cloud of gray above.
Mujah got to his feet and turned to Crane. "I wanna go up top and see where it's going!" he said.
Crane lifted his face from Hetta's dark hair and mumbled, "What now?"
"I wanna climb up top and see where that ilaani went," Mujah said.
"I don't want you going up there by yourself," Crane groaned, "and I'm tired of climbing stairs right now. We'll go up some other time."
"But the ilaani is going up there now!" Mujah protested, pointing at the dark cloud, "See! He's already gone, and, if we don't hurry, I'm gonna miss seein' where he went!"
"Not right now," Crane said through his teeth.
"But..."
"I can go with him," Garrett offered.
Crane looked at him, relief dawning on his face. "Would you?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'd kinda like to see where it went myself," Garrett said.
Hetta pulled away from Crane's shoulder, shaking her head. "I don't know," she said, "I don't like you boys climbing around up there. It's too dangerous."
Crane rolled his eyes. "Thanks mother!" he groaned sarcastically.
"Do whatever you want," Hetta sighed, turning her back on him.
Crane frowned, raising an eyebrow at Garrett and Mujah.
Mujah wasted no time. He grabbed Garrett's hand and pulled him toward the stairs, shouting, "Thanks!" back over his shoulder.
Garrett was wheezing for breath by the time they reached the top of the tower. Mujah squeezed through a gap between the moldering boards of a ruined trap door at the top of the stairs, and Garrett pushed through to follow him out onto a wind-swept circular landing, surrounded by a low wall with tall, crenelated spikes of stone.
Mujah ran to the section of wall overlooking the garden and leaned out to try to spot the vagrant wisp.
Garrett could not take his eyes off of the star-strewn sky above.
The night breeze whipped back his hood, stinging his face like ice water, as he spread his arms and laughed to see the sky again. Garrett breathed in the cold air and laughed again, his eyes watering from the buffeting wind and the swell of emotions in his heart.
He had lived for so long in the twilight city and never seen anything but the impenetrable blanket of gray that hung over Wythr. No sun, no moon, no stars. That was the way of things, but now... this.
"Over here!" Mujah cried.
Garrett turned slowly and walked to the edge of the rampart, looking out over the sea of clouds. Eight tower tops emerged like black islands in the gray sea, and, towering above them, the twisting spires of the temple, stabbing upward towards the star-frosted sky. Far away to the East, loomed the peak of Mount Padras, trailing ghostly streamers of vapor, as though the mountain itself breathed out this perpetual fog that cloaked all but these few defiant pinnacles of the city below.
"Look there!" Mujah said, pointing at a smudge of verdant light in the top of the cloud.
Garrett watched as the green wisp rose from the cloud, flickering and flaring, almost gold, as it emerged into the starlight. It stopped rising and hung, motionless, above the sea of gray, shining its watery light on the cloud tops below.
Garrett laughed.
"What's it doing?" Mujah whispered.
"I think it just wanted to see the stars," Garrett said.
The two of them watched as the glowing orb hung in the still silence, the whistling of the wind through the stones the only sound.
Garrett breathed in the cold night air and the light of the twinkling stars like a healing balm, seeing in the green wisp a kindred spirit. He watched as it moved again, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it drifted toward the southern wall. It hesitated, peering over the top of the wall, as though looking away toward the South, but afraid to take that final step to cross the empty gap between the two southernmost towers.
Garrett smiled sadly as the wisp turned back again, sinking once more into the gray sea of clouds as it abandoned its plan for escape.
"I guess it's going home for the night," Mujah yawned.
Garrett couldn't help yawning too. He looked up at the sky again, and his heart ached. "I'm not quite ready to go back down yet," he said, "but you can go back, if you want to."
Mujah shook his head. "Nah, I'll stay up here with you," he said, his voice lowered again, and his face set in a frown of manly determination.
"Thanks," Garrett said, "and thanks for showing me this. I didn't know there was any place like it in the city."
"So you'll come back?" Mujah asked, a hopeful smile erasing his frown.
Garrett nodded. "I'd like to, it that's all right with the others."
"Yeah, Crane'll let you come back whenever you want!" Mujah said, "Now that he knows you're not after his girl."
Garrett laughed. "I'm glad we met," he said, "I never really met any Lethians before."
"Yeah, we've walked almost all the way around the world to get here," Mujah said, tucking his arms inside his over shirt against the chill.
"You walked all the way here?" Garrett asked.
Mujah shrugged. "Well, we had to eat all the horses when we got stuck in the mountains," he said, "and, after that, we got lost from our parents, and we couldn't afford to buy any new horses."
"You ate your horses?" Garrett asked.
"Yeah," Mujah nodded, "They didn't taste very good, but all the food ran out, and there was too much snow to get through any further, so we ate the horses and waited for the snow to melt."
"How did you get stuck in the mountains?"
"I dunno," Mujah said, "It was a really long time ago, and I was just a kid back then. All the grownups went off to try to get help... except for the really old ones, like Momma Ven, but the old ones all got sick and died, so Crane and the others had to bury 'em."
"Where did your parents go?" Garrett asked.
"They went lookin' for help," Mujah said, "but they must have got lost, and they didn't come back. Once all the horses ran out, Crane and some of the old kids went out lookin' for our parents. They were gone a really long time, and we started to get worried that they weren't comin' back either."
Garrett shook his head. "That sounds pretty scary," he said.
Mujah laughed. "I wasn't scared," he said, "A lot of the little kids were scared, but I knew Crane wouldn't leave us alone."
"What happened?"
"Crane came back and told us we all had to get ready to go," Mujah said, "Some people were arguin' with him, sayin' we should wait there for our parents to come back, but Crane got really mad then. He told us that our parents had gone on ahead, and we had to go and try to find 'em ourselves or else we'd freeze to death."
Garrett gave him a troubled look. "Why would your parents not come back for you?' he asked.
"I dunno," Mujah said, shrugging his shoulders, "but Crane told us he'd found a note that said we should all go ahead and meet up with 'em later, so that's what we did."
Garrett felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night wind.
Mujah yawned again.
"We'd better get back downstairs," Garrett said, "We don't want Hetta to worry too much about us."
"Yeah," Mujah agreed, then hastily added, "but only if you're done lookin' at the sky."
Garrett took one last look at the stars above then nodded. "Yeah, I'll see it again next time."
Chapter Eight
After nearly fi
ve minutes of digging through his wardrobe, Garrett finally found his Templar's tunic. He pulled the wrinkled green bundle of cloth out from where it lay atop the mud-spattered clothing that he had worn when he went in search of the Songreaver's tomb. He sat, staring at the filthy clothes for a moment, struggling to recall something important, but then he realized that some of the mud, and a fair amount of the smell had rubbed off onto the green tunic in his hand.
Garrett groaned. He was late already, having run back home from Queensgarden the moment that Curfew had lifted that morning. He briefly considered skipping another day of his Templar training, but he had promised Serepheni that he would be there today. He did his best to straighten out the tunic and scrape some of the grime off with his thumbnail. This was not going to go well.
Garrett pulled on the tunic and cinched his belt around it as tightly as possible, trying to stretch some of the wrinkles out. He looked in the mirror and groaned again before grabbing his satchel and heading out the door.
He passed Uncle Tinjin in the hallway. The old man's wispy hair stood out at an odd angle, and the cup of tea hooked on one finger tilted dangerously. He blinked at Garrett with the bleary eyes of another late night behind him.
"Where did you go last night?" Tinjin asked.
"Queensgarden," Garrett said, pulling on a hooded cloak and heading for the door.
"Ah," Uncle said, "Good luck at the temple."
"Thanks!" Garrett said, already on the doorstep. He gave his uncle a little wave and pulled the door shut behind him.
He was out of breath by the time he reached the temple grounds, and his feet ached from running. The two Templars guarding the front gate gave each other a knowing look and admitted him without a word. Their laughter followed Garrett up the stairs as he headed toward the library to check in with Matron Beeks.
He entered through one of the side doors that opened between the shelves.
Matron Beeks looked at him as he entered, her eyes going wide at the site of him. Standing in front of her stood Matron Shelbie with her entire class of young novitiates at her back. Shelbie gave him a flinty glare. One of the students whispered something, and several of the girls shared a laugh.
Shelbie silenced them with a look before sending them away to the far side of the library.
"I’m sorry I'm late, Matron," Garrett whispered to Matron Beeks, "I had a problem with my... stuff... this morning."
Matron Beeks looked at Garrett with a pained expression, her eyes going toward Shelbie again.
Matron Shelbie spun to face Garrett again. "Where have you been?" she hissed.
Garrett's voice caught in his throat. "I... you sent me home!" he said, "I was sick, so you sent me home."
"And you only now return?" Shelbie demanded.
Garrett squirmed. "I was really sick," he said.
Matron Shelbie's eyes flashed.
Garrett cleared his throat. "I'm feeling better now, Matron, so... I came back," he offered, lifting his hands placatingly.
A cruel smirk twisted Matron Shelbie's lip. "How many days were you absent?" she demanded.
"I don't know, Matron," Garrett said with a shrug.
"How many days was he gone, Beeks?" Shelbie asked the librarian.
Matron Beeks sighed and quietly answered, "Not counting Emergence Week, nine days."
Now a bit of teeth showed in Shelbie's smile. "Nine?" she asked.
"Yes Matron Shelbie," Beeks answered.
Shelbie reached over and took a piece of parchment from Beeks's lectern. Beeks winced as Shelbie used her pen to scrawl a note, spattering the desk with flecks of black ink. Shelbie blotted the page dry and folded it in half before handing it to Garrett.
"You will report to Matron Brix at once for your punishment," Shelbie said, "Give her this... and don't even think of disobeying me. I will be along shortly to observe your chastisement."
Garrett's eyes bulged. "But I was sick!" he said, "You sent me home!"
Matron Shelbie's eyes blazed with rage. "You've just earned another three lashes for your willfulness!" she yelled.
"Lashes?" Garrett cried out, forgetting to keep his voice down.
Matron Shelbie turned on her heel and walked away. Matron Beeks took Garrett by the shoulders and led him outside.
"Lashes?" Garrett asked, his voice desperate, "Like with a whip?"
Matron Beeks nodded, sadly.
"But I was sick," Garrett insisted, "She sent me home!"
"The penalty is much worse for unexcused absences," Matron Beeks whispered, her voice barely audible even outside the library.
"But it's not fair!" Garrett said, "I didn't choose to stay home. She made me! How can I get punished for that?"
"I know it seems unfair," Matron Beeks sighed, "but it has always been that way. Weakness of any sort is purged from our bodies through pain, in this case, a lash per day. I just wish you had come back sooner... nine days..." The heavyset old matron looked as if she were going to cry.
Garrett stared down at the parchment in his hand. "Is there any way I can get out of it?" he asked, "I mean, could another Matron write me an excuse or something?"
"You have already been excused," Matron Beeks said, "This is the lightest punishment you can receive for this infraction."
"This is crazy!" Garrett said, still unable to wrap his mind around it. He should have stayed home. He should never have come back at all.
Then he realized that was exactly what Matron Shelbie wanted. She had always hated Garrett, and was doing anything she could to embarrass Serepheni for choosing him to be a Templar. He was certain that nothing would please Shelbie more than to see him run away.
Garrett crushed the parchment in his fist.
"You can't throw it away!" Matron Beeks gasped.
Garrett looked at her, his face set in grim determination. "I'm not," he assured her.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to report to Matron Brix," he said as he walked away.
Garrett found the lean Matron Brix drilling the young Templars in the courtyard. Banden was there and saw Garrett emerge into the gray light of morning in the yard. The young man broke his restraining hold, releasing his sparring partner from a cross shoulder lock, and nodded at Garrett as he approached.
Garrett gave Banden a curt nod and offered the scrap of parchment by way of explanation as Matron Brix turned to face him with a quizzical look.
The Matron's perpetual scowl faded into a look of sick horror as she read Shelbie's note. She looked at Garrett in disbelief. "Nine?" she asked.
"Plus three more for questioning her," Garrett answered flatly.
A hush fell over the crowd of young Templars as the clash of sparring staves died away.
Matron Brix looked down at the crumpled parchment and shook her head. "The post over there," she sighed, nodding her head toward a wooden pillar at the far end of the courtyard, "Take off your tunic and wait there... I'll be back in a moment."
Garrett watched her walk away toward the barracks, feeling a sort of cold resignation creep through his limbs. He turned and began to walk slowly toward the whipping post.
Banden peeled off from the whispering bunch of trainees, jogging over to Garrett's side.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
Garrett did not look at him. "I'm supposed to get nine lashes for being sick," he said, "and then a few more for asking why."
"What?" Banden choked.
Garrett laughed bitterly. "I guess that's how they keep us healthy around here," he said, "So you might want to take care of yourself... don't want to get sick."
"That's not fair!" Banden said.
Garrett gave him a sideways look and a crooked smile. "I thought the same thing too."
Banden grabbed Garrett's arm, stopping him. "This can't be right," he said, "Miss Serepheni wouldn't let this happen! It has to be a mistake!"
A cold chill went through Garrett's chest as he realized that Serepheni must have known this was going to h
appen all along. He swallowed his smile down into his churning gut and scoffed, pulling his arm free of Banden's grasp.
"I'll go and find her," Banden said, "Just wait here... stall for time." He had already half turned to go when Garrett stopped him.
"No!" Garrett said, "I want this!"
"What?" Banden asked, his face twisted in disgust, "Why?"
Garrett bared his teeth. "Because they think it will make me quit!" he hissed, "And I want them to know just how wrong they are!"
Banden's face went blank, and he took a step back.
Matron Brix's footsteps sounded on the flagstones again, and Garrett saw her coming toward him with a long, multi-headed green leather whip in her hand. He wasted no time in stripping off his tunic, turning his back to the gathered crowd of young trainees so that they could get a good look.
Someone gasped in disgust at the sight of Garrett's back. Every inch of exposed flesh gleamed pale and rippled with the scars of dragonfire. Garrett knew all too well what they were looking at, the thing he had tried to hide every day of his life since he had been washed in Kadreaan's breath.
Brix barked the young men to silence before gently ushering Garrett into the proper position before the pole. "Lift your hands, boy," she whispered in his ear, "I have to tie your wrists."
Garrett kept his gaze locked on the dark wood of the whip-scarred post. "I won't run away," he said, his voice sounding like it came from someone else.
"It's to keep you from falling down," Matron Brix answered softly.
Garrett looked back at her over his shoulder and nodded, lifting his hands above his head.
Matron Brix restrained him with a leather cord. She did not pull it tight, but that mattered little to Garrett. He hardly felt the bonds at all through the scars that the Chadiri manacles had cut into his wrists so long ago.
Matron Brix let out her breath through pursed lips and stepped back. "Shelbie can do her own murder next time," she muttered.
"I am here!" Matron Shelbie's voice carried across the courtyard, "You may commence the punishment."
Only Garrett could hear the little snort of scorn from Matron Brix.
"Ready yourself, boy," Matron Brix said, "Don't try to fight the pain... chances are you'll be unconscious by the fifth lash."
The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) Page 11
