Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set)

by L. M. Roth

  “Yes, I think you are right,” Maelys agreed, as she nodded her head. “But what we must think of now is what to do about the damage they have done. How can we turn the hearts of the villagers back to Dominio?”

  “First,” Kyrene interjected. “I wish to know what caused them to reconcile after not speaking to one another for more than twenty years. What brought about their reunion? Do you know?”

  Maelys snorted and tossed back her curls.

  “Oh, yes, I certainly do! It was Melisande who was responsible for it. I do not know all of the details, but in some manner she managed to get them together and talk for the first time in all these years. Why she did this, I am not sure. But I have my own suspicions regarding that!”

  Kyrene studied the girl with anxiety stirring in her tender heart; it was already clear to her that Maelys disliked her sister-in-law, and perhaps with justifiable reason. But Kyrene knew that Dominio loved the daughter of Fanchon as dearly as He loved the daughter of Dag, and she must somehow make Maelys see that. No matter what her feelings were for Melisande, she must treat her with kindness and compassion.

  For the moment, however, she merely focused on sifting for the truth of the motive behind Melisande’s interference with an old family feud.

  “Can you tell me why Melisande did this? Do you have the facts? Or are you merely speculating, and allowing your dislike of her to color the truth?”

  Kyrene put the question to her with the brutal honesty of the prophet, those who must see the world in black and white, and not allow affection to blind them to the weaknesses and foibles of those whom they loved. She felt a deep regard and concern for Dag’s daughter, but she refused to allow Maelys’ prejudice and animosity to turn her against Fanchon’s daughter.

  “Well, well, I mean, no…I do not know why Melisande did it,” Maelys stammered in sudden confusion. “But the entire village knows that she spent time visiting Enora last winter. And it was shortly after that that Niamh and her sister were reconciled. And right after that Niamh insisted on having Eoghan recognized at the Spring Festival, even putting her husband Laig up to suggesting it at the village council meeting when they planned the Festival. My father refused to permit such an abomination, but Niamh defied him and did it anyway; she just strolled to the center of the green and praised Dominio, and then gave thanks to Eoghan for the return of spring.”

  Kyrene digested this recital in silence. It was possible that Melisande had a hand in reconciling the sisters, for what motive she could not guess as the woman was a stranger whom she had not yet met. But why would Niamh allow Enora to influence her to the extent of attempting to call on the old gods, those whom she had not called on for more than twenty years?

  Or had she continued to do so in secret, and none were aware?

  She turned to Maelys abruptly.

  “I should like to meet your sister-in-law,” she stated. “And then I want to pay a visit to Niamh.”

  Kyrene could not help but be moved in her spirit at the plight of the young woman before her. She had requested that Maelys introduce her to Melisande, and then leave them alone together. She wished to talk to her privately, and knew that if Maelys were present Melisande would shut down under the dislike of the other girl.

  Her first thought was that she bore no resemblance to Fanchon at all. Except for the subtleties of accent in her voice, which was low and husky where her mother’s had been high and ethereal. In manner they were different as well. Fanchon had been as flighty as a butterfly, flitting from one topic of conversation to another, her speech frequently punctuated with laughter, the product of a heart filled with joy. Melisande was slow of speech and deliberate in manner, and Kyrene suspected that joy was a stranger whose acquaintance she had never met.

  Melisande was wary of Kyrene, obviously wondering why she had wanted to meet her, and to talk to her alone. But her cold aloofness gradually thawed under the warmth of the woman who sat opposite her, and when the cries of little Gwenaelle interrupted their polite conversation, Kyrene asked permission to pick her up and rock her. It was graciously given, Melisande taking a considerable pride in her baby daughter, and delighted that someone should show an interest in the child.

  Kyrene picked up the babe and stared into her small face. Her smile was tender and genuine, and a tear rolled unexpectedly down her face, much to the surprise of her hostess.

  “Is something wrong?” Melisande asked anxiously. “Why do you look at my little girl and weep?”

  “Forgive me,” Kyrene replied. “It is just that I knew your mother, and it moves me deeply that she shall never see her granddaughter; never see her smile at her, never feel her touch in a caress, never hear the sound of her voice raised in laughter. Your mother loved to laugh, you know.”

  Without warning Melisande erupted in tears, and sobs shook her body, causing her to heave as they wracked her with the force of a stream in flood that sweeps away every obstacle from its path. She attempted to control herself and to apologize for her tears, but Kyrene brushed aside her apologies.

  “There is no need to apologize, or even to be sorry!” she assured the weeping young woman. “It is only natural to weep for those we love and miss. And what could be more natural than for you to wish that your mother could see your child?”

  Melisande smiled at Kyrene through her tears, and hiccupped as the torrent finally slowed. She took several deep breaths as she slowly regained control.

  “Yes, I do wish that she could be here to see Gwenaelle,” she whispered, her voice filled with such a sad yearning that it brought tears to Kyrene’s eyes as well. “But do you know why I wept? I wept because you are the only person who has mentioned my mother with any affection, any indication that she is missed. Cort seems to have hated her and does not hesitate to speak of her with scorn; but you seem to have liked my mother, and it comforts me to know that.”

  Kyrene was not surprised at this disclosure: she recalled the friction that had always been present between Cort and Fanchon as they vied for Dag’s affection. What astonished her was that Cort should have revealed that dislike and derision that he felt for Fanchon to her daughter. Surely he must know that Dominio would not be pleased with such behavior!

  She considered her words before addressing Melisande again with the matter of Cort’s conduct.

  “Melisande,” she began hesitantly. “Cort and Fanchon did not always get on well together. They were very different in temperament and character. Cort was very practical, even as a child, and he could always see to the heart of a matter and express what others could not put into words. Or that they feared to. But Fanchon loved to laugh and to dance; she was not given to contemplation and the pursuit of serious matters. She was like a butterfly, and it can not survive in any but a warm climate; when the frost comes, it dies. Yet it delights the hearts of all who behold it during its brief life span. Can you understand this?”

  Melisande nodded her head; tears filled her eyes once more, but it was clear to Kyrene that she listened with rapt attention to every word she said.

  “Fanchon was very much like that. She laughed and danced and liked pretty clothes and new adventures. Oh, she was such a delight!” Kyrene exclaimed as a little sob tore at her throat.

  She apologized to Melisande as she wiped away a sudden tear.

  “I am sorry. I have not thought of her in years but speaking of her brings it all back, so vividly! Yes, I was fond of her and missed her when she left us and remained in Gaudereaux.”

  Here she paused and glanced surreptitiously at Melisande. The young woman’s lips hardened, and she did not hesitate to speak her mind.

  “You mean when Dag left her in Gaudereaux,” she said accusingly in a voice that was as hard as stone. “He broke their betrothal and abandoned her for his God.”

  Kyrene shook her head slowly from side to side, never taking her eyes off the bitter young woman.

  “No, Melisande; that is not the way it was. I was there, and I know what happened. But, why not tell m
e what you think happened, and I can tell you where you are mistaken.”

  Melisande looked at her uncertainly; it was apparent to Kyrene that this was not the response she expected to her denunciation of Dag.

  “I was told that my mother wanted to live in Gaudereaux and gave Dag the choice between her and his God. And he chose Dominio over her. It broke her heart. And in the end it killed her.”

  Kyrene’s eyes were softly sympathetic as she listened to the unhappy girl. Yet, she must tell her the truth.

  “But do you not see that Dag made the only choice that he could, Melisande? He made a vow, a vow to serve Dominio, and it cost him dearly. He was cast out of his own tribe, who put a sentence of death on him, are you aware of that? And this frightened your mother, who begged him to renounce Dominio and forsake Him to live with her in Gaudereaux.

  “Yet, how could he do such a thing? He made a vow, a sacred vow, and he must keep it. To break that vow would be to bring a curse on himself, and all he loved. Dag had no choice: he had to choose Dominio over Fanchon, whom I know he loved deeply. He suffered when he left her in Gaudereaux. I know; I was there.”

  That this statement was a surprise to Melisande was evident to Kyrene. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly. Her animosity was softened and a thoughtful expression came into her green eyes, replacing the hard glint of a few moments ago.

  “He did? He suffered? I did not know that; Cort did not tell me so. I always thought that he left her behind without any regard for her feelings, as hard and pitiless as an ascetic who feels nothing for no one.”

  She meditated on her own statement as Kyrene studied her. Melisande seemed to be considering the situation from a new angle, and it gave Kyrene the encouragement to utter what she said next.

  “Dag suffered; he suffered until he met Judoc a year later, and his heart was healed. But a true ascetic is not hard and pitiless; rather, he gives his whole heart to the One who loves all of mankind the same. And when he gives his heart entirely to Dominio, he is rewarded by feeling that same love for mankind that Dominio has. He can see beyond what mere man sees on the surface, to the pain and suffering and bitterness that is too often masked and unperceived by those who see only the bad deeds that are the fruit of such wounding.

  “And Dominio loves you, Melisande. He would be both your father and your mother, if you would but let Him love you.”

  Kyrene’s voice shook on her last words, uncertain how Melisande would receive them. The girl looked at her sharply, and a flash of resentment shot out from her green eyes. But it was softened almost instantly as she perceived the genuine compassion in the eyes of the older woman.

  “I like you,” she said softly. “You are not like Cort, who spoke only of my mother’s wrongdoing and told me that I am evil. You are not like him.”

  Kyrene was appalled that the temperamental young man had not shown this wounded motherless girl the love of Dominio, but had allowed his personal animosity to color his view of her and to temper his words with cruelty. Had he forgotten the injunction of Xenon to remember that their battle was not against flesh and blood but against the Astra who blinded the souls of mankind? Even as she thought this, however, she realized that Cort could not see what she saw. She was a seer, and only a seer could perceive what lay beneath the surface of the face presented to the world. And Cort had not that gift.

  She rose to her feet, carrying little Gwenaelle in her arms, and put an arm around Melisande.

  Melisande smiled up at her warmly, and shyly clasped one of Kyrene’s hands in her own. Then the smile slowly faded, yet she nodded her head.

  “I am not sure of this Dominio of yours, and may never like Him, but I like you.”

  It was when she paid a visit to Niamh that Kyrene was confirmed in her suspicions. It was only natural to call on her with Maelys, as she had known her during her previous stay in Eirinia; indeed Niamh had been the first Eirini woman she had met. Niamh seemed genuinely pleased to see Kyrene, and flung her arms around her at once. The visit even alleviated her tension with the daughter of Dag Adalbart as the women exchanged all their news of the past twenty years. But as they spoke, the truth that Kyrene had searched for was revealed.

  Although Melisande had softened under the unexpected warmth that Kyrene had shown her, she sensed this girl had depths as yet unknown even to Cort, who trusted her not at all.

  There is much confusion there, as well as bitterness and sadness, Kyrene mused. And yet, I also feel a will and a power to do great evil in Fanchon’s daughter. If she does not turn her feet from the path of wickedness she has chosen, it will soon be too late to turn at all.

  Kyrene found herself torn in two regarding her decision of what she should do next. She had traveled to Eirinia mainly to deliver Maelys safely to her family and to observe first hand the situation in Eirinia; now that she was here she sensed a stirring of further evil rising beneath the surface. In truth, she feared to leave the Adalbart family alone until either Dag or Cort returned to them. Judoc was too immersed in her grieving, and Dirk and Maelys too young and untried to stand against the forces Kyrene felt about to break the surface.

  Yet, to stay on would mean she would need to leave her pupils in Solone for an extended time. But the urge to stay was too strong to ignore. What should she do?

  She was also troubled by the reports from Valerium, of the persecution and the continued abuse of power by Iacomus. Before she left Lycenium Marcus had spoken with her privately and informed her of the theft of Logos by the man who had killed Felix and was now Felicia’s father-in-law. That the Sword was stolen at the order of the new Emperor to deprive the Alexandrians of power was the motive, he told her, according to Decimus.

  She had recoiled in horror; but her instincts told her that there was more to this theft, something that Marcus was missing. She did not wish to wound her old friend, but the thought persisted and she must say it.

  “Marcus,” she began in her soft voice, “why is it that Logos was permitted to be stolen from you, do you think?”

  Marcus turned pale and stared at Kyrene with unblinking eyes, clearly stunned at her statement.

  “Permitted?” he repeated in a shrill voice that betrayed his shock.

  It was obvious to her that he couldn’t believe what she had just said.

  “Permitted?” he repeated again. “It was stolen from me! There was no permission asked!”

  “Certainly not by Decimus, I agree,” she said briskly. “Yet Dominio permitted it to be stolen, and it was taken by the man you hate more than any other in the world. Why is that, do you think?”

  The frown on Marcus’ face became so deep that it appeared to Kyrene that his eyebrows would touch his nose. She held her breath and waited for the temper of this son of a soldier to be loosed on her.

  “Logos is my legacy! I can not believe that Dominio “permitted” it to be stolen from me for any reason except to teach my son a lesson for treating such a sacred object in such a cavalier manner. Why, he treated it as a toy for his own amusement! Surely that is a sin in the eyes of Dominio!”

  Kyrene withstood the barrage of words, and took a deep breath to steady herself but persisted in her line of questioning.

  “Yes, that is true,” she agreed. “But is it not possible that you also sinned and that is why Dominio permitted the theft?”

  “What!” Marcus erupted.

  He suddenly began pacing nervously and then whirled around to look at Kyrene.

  “What do you mean?” he asked in a voice that reeked of suspicion.

  He seemed to remember suddenly that he was speaking to a seer, and he had best be honest when dealing with such a one.

  “Marcus,” she said, more gently this time. “I know that you hate Decimus, and with very good reason. Indeed, I could not stay with Felicia and Antonius at their invitation because it was Decimus’ estate and I could not forget Felix…”

  Here she broke off abruptly and tears shimmered in her wide hazel eyes. Marcus saw them
and ceased his pacing, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder which she patted gently before continuing.

  “However,” she continued in a quivering voice, “I have let go of the anger and the bitterness. It will always be hard to face Decimus, and I am grateful that he is not here. But have you possibly allowed your own bitterness and anger toward him to fester in your heart, and Dominio wants you to surrender it?”

  Marcus slumped forward and he put his head in his hands. He did not speak for several minutes and the stillness of the room seemed deafening to Kyrene. At last he let out a deep sigh, nodded his head and addressed her.

  “You are right, Kyrene,” he murmured. “It was not long before the theft of Logos that I actually threatened Decimus. I did not trust him, and indeed, thought at first that he had initiated the friendship between our sons and put Antonius to spy on us to report back to him so that he could carry those reports back to Iacomus. And I warned him that if any harm ever came to my family because of him that I would kill him and suffer the consequences with Dominio, even if it damned my soul.”

  “Oh, Marcus! That is why it happened, don’t you see? You threatened another, even though with what you thought was justifiable cause, and Dominio permitted Logos to be taken from you in order to get your attention regarding your bitterness and how it is consuming you.”

  She said this in a gentle voice and rubbed his hand softly, yet he detected the hidden rebuke. And knew she was right; his own heart had caused him to sin with his lips, threatening the life of another, and Logos, which must never be used in violence, had been stolen from him. And by the very man whom he had threatened with violence.

  “Yes, yes, I see it now,” he replied, feeling that the burning sensation in his chest was his heart breaking within him. “I must go to Dominio and ask Him to forgive me and cleanse my heart. Perhaps He will have mercy on me and Logos will be returned to the Alexandrians if not to me. For it is clear that I must deal with my own sin before I can be trusted with it again.”