by L. M. Roth
Dag said nothing, but he bowed his head to Kyrene.
Small Cort looked at her in apprehension waiting his turn. He succumbed as if to some unavoidable inevitability. He gave her a pleading look. She smiled at him.
“No, young Cort, it is not the time to reveal your secret.”
Cort smile and relaxed. Kyrene continued.
“But I tell you now that when your father and mother forsake you, there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”
Cort brightened and turned to Dag.
“Yes, that is right! Dag is my friend who takes care of me.”
Dag tousled Cort’s hair with affection. Kyrene smiled again.
“I do not mean Dag,” she said.
Chapter XXVIII
The Pearl
“Who are you?” Marcus demanded of the strange young woman who had just told them all about themselves.
“I have told you my name,” Kyrene replied, her voice as cool and serene as her countenance. Of all the party, she was the only one who remained unruffled, as though disturbing the peace of strangers with unnerving revelations was an everyday occurrence for her.
“No, I mean, what are you? How do you know the secrets of our hearts?” Marcus inquired.
Kyrene wavered for a moment, looking steadily at Marcus, as though taking measure of him. She looked over her shoulder in one direction at the slope beneath her, then in the other direction to the grove of olives behind her. As if satisfied that no listener lurked near, she nodded, then took a deep breath.
“If I tell you, will you keep it secret?” she whispered.
She looked solemnly first at Marcus, then at the others one by one. Each in turn nodded just as solemnly.
“Very well. You asked me earlier, Marcus Maximus, why the people in the taverna, for that is what we call it, revealed a pearl to one another. The pearl is the symbol of our true allegiance.”
She paused, again looking intently at Marcus as though to gauge his reaction. Marcus wrinkled his brow, not altogether certain that he wanted to be informed of some treasonous plot against the Empire. To be informed meant he would have to take action of some sort, and right now his hands were full. Unless, it could buy him favor with the Empress and thus release his parents sooner without having to first find the Pearl…
“Allegiance? To Solone, do you mean? You are some rebel sect?”
It seemed logical after all to use the pearl as a symbol, as pearls were so plentiful in Solone.
“No, not to Solone. But our allegiance is not to the Valeriun Empire, either. You see, our allegiance is to a kingdom not of this world. For we are pledged to the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“Well, that seems harmless enough. I suppose everyone should be free to worship whatever they choose,” Marcus replied, diplomatically he thought, when he took into consideration that he believed in nothing and no one.
Kyrene gave an impatient little shrug of her shoulders at his obtuseness, and tried once again to explain.
“You do not understand, Marcus. We are committed not just to Dominio, the One true God, but to an entirely different government. When one of us wishes to make ourselves known to another, but are not quite sure if the other is a believer, we pass a pearl to reveal who we are. A pearl will not attract attention to us in Solone because it is famous for them. And my father gives us freely as many as we need.”
Kyrene paused, as if uncertain how to proceed further. A quick glance showed her that she now had the undivided attention of all of them.
Dag scowled in uncertainty, as though dubious about whether to trust what the young seer was about to share with them. Fanchon listened as though scarcely daring to breathe, and Cort stopped in his ceaseless activity to listen with all the attention his restless little soul could muster. Felix waited with eyes alight with curiosity for her to finish her discourse.
“Go on,” Felix encouraged her. “Tell us what it is you believe. And why you use a pearl for a symbol of identification.”
“Do you know how a pearl is formed?” Kyrene asked them.
She looked again at each in turn, but none could answer.
“It is created at all only because of irritation. Some small particle, perhaps a grain of sand, perhaps a pebble such as one gets in one’s sandals, who knows? gets in the shell of an oyster and chafes it. It cannot bear the abrasion, so it releases a milky substance to protect and soothe itself.
“It releases more and more of this substance until at last a perfect orb is formed, which we call a pearl. When it reaches that stage it is very valuable, and men will risk their lives to obtain it, while others will pay a great price to purchase it.”
Marcus bored in on Kyrene’s narrative with intensity, scarcely daring to breathe, lest he miss a word of her explanation due to the sound of his own drawn breath. His heart pounded rapidly. Was this, at last, the solution of the mystery for which he had been sent on the quest?
“How interesting,” Felix remarked, always athirst for tidbits of new knowledge. “I was not aware of that. But you have not explained why you chose the pearl for the identification of your sect.”
Kyrene paused again, as if carefully choosing her words before continuing. She looked at each one again, to weigh the effect of her words on her listeners. All were attentive and waiting for her next words.
“Suffering is rather like the process through which a pearl is created. Something in our existence, say a circumstance we cannot change, a character fault that causes a problem, a physical ailment we are afflicted with, it can be anything! makes us suffer. We cannot change it ourselves, and yet the pain is unbearable. What do we do? Some try to change it themselves, but they cannot and only make the matter worse.
“We who believe submit the problem to Dominio, who either removes the problem or changes our hearts so we can endure with fortitude. As we yield our hearts for change, it is as if He releases that same milky substance around us. The deeper the suffering, the more refined we become, changed into His image as we were intended to be.
“We are transformed from frail human vessels and become the bearers of His glory, as it was in the beginning. At that point we become so valuable that one would risk a life to obtain us, would pay a great price to purchase us. As indeed, He already has.”
Felix and Marcus gave one another a sidelong glance. Each wore identical expressions of bewilderment. Felix lifted his eyebrow slightly, and shrugged.
Then Marcus turned to Kyrene.
“Whose image, Kyrene? Who are you talking about?”
Kyrene again looked furtively around for hidden lurkers. Satisfied that she saw no one, she turned back to the little band of companions.
“Come,” she said. “There is someone you should meet.”
Chapter XXIX
The Hermit
They followed Kyrene down the hill opposite on the other side from which she had ascended. Marcus noted that once again she looked around furtively as though she feared being followed. Her hazel eyes were widened and as wary as a deer in the forest alert for the scent of the hunter.
He was beginning to be intrigued by her caution; also to wonder whether she might not be a fugitive wanted by the government. He questioned the wisdom of involving himself with someone who might embroil them all in danger. Still, the mystery of the Pearl and the need to fulfill his quest was too pressing to allow him to be overly particular when introducing himself to new acquaintances.
If Kyrene knew more that could lead him to the object of his pursuit, then follow her he must. And if it turned out, as he was beginning to suspect, that she was a member of some rebel faction that was plotting an uprising against the Empire, that was all to the good, as the Empress would wish to reward her loyal subjects who would alert her to such a rebellion…
They crossed a broad meadow dotted here and there with large stones that appeared to be fragments of former edifices. Marcus wondered what stood in their place long ago, what glory did they once raise to the sky, of which now there was on
ly a ruin?
He reflected with sadness on the fleeting passage of time. What was the purpose of life if that which was so magnificent today was all but forgotten tomorrow? Would his own name live on after he was gone? Or would it also be as these stones, nothing but a half-forgotten moment in the passing of the world?
Marcus kept these thoughts to himself.
Kyrene led them to one of the outermost hills that rose above the meadow. Here the terrain shifted abruptly. While the base of the hill was as green and strewn with wildflowers as the meadow below, the higher they climbed to the summit, the more dramatic the change in the landscape. Halfway to the peak the grass thinned out, then gave way completely to loose sharp rocks scattered over the hard-baked ground.
When they crested the rise they understood why no grass or wildflowers were to be found, for they stood on a peak that descended to a semicircle of a stone basin. The basin ringed an inland sea which covered the remains of what had once been the volcano that destroyed the great Solone civilization, ending her glory and her grandeur, leaving only the legend of what once was in the wake of its destruction.
It was at this spot that the earth quaked with a terrifying tumult while the mountain blew itself apart with the violence of the explosion. The sea rushed in with a deafening roar as the towering waves buried the city that had once thrived in the flower of its magnificence. No longer did its white walls rise to greet the morning sun. No longer did the world throng to seek its knowledge. No longer was the sound of music and laughter to be heard in its midst. It was silent now, and would be for all of time.
Kyrene scampered over the rocks as nimbly as a mountain goat. It was evident that this was a journey she had made many times. Occasionally she glanced back to see how the others fared, then continued on her way. She led them up the side of the basin, to where a footpath climbed to a plateau above it.
When they reached the plateau, she bade them stop a moment to rest and catch their breath. Willingly they did so, for the climb had been steep and the day warm. They sank down onto flat rocks and took stock of their surroundings.
All around them as far as they could see were rocks and hills, the remnants of the devastation created by the volcano when it blew its top so many hundreds of years ago. Here its fury had been spent, and here its legacy was evident in the inland sea that lay far below where they sat.
They surveyed the plateau on which they now rested.
It was a broad, rocky hilltop, where the fertile volcanic ash had birthed new life. Tall trees of acacia offered seclusion from prying eyes, and shade from the merciless sun, and natural caves offered protection from more predatory dangers.
After a rest of not more than fifteen minutes in which little was said in order to conserve strength, they collected themselves to continue on their way. Marcus was the first to rise and motioned for Kyrene to precede him. One by one they rose to their feet and followed in her wake.
Kyrene led them along the footpath that rose to an even higher hill. In this place the path was flagged with old stepping stones worn smooth by time. The path wound in ever increasing steepness until it reached a rocky promontory.
They stood before a small stone building set into the rock face behind it. It was actually built into the rock and was part of it. For many long years it had stood, for so long that it was said to be the lone remainder of the buildings that stood here before the eruption.
But none of this was known to Marcus or his companions. He merely found it exceedingly strange that any building should be erected in such a harsh setting, and inquired of Kyrene whether she knew of its history.
“Yes, indeed, I do,” she nodded her head. “This is where the wise man, or sage, lived in olden times, when Solone was still the center of learning and knowledge. Many were those who made pilgrimage here to seek his wisdom. After the eruption it was the only edifice left standing. It was built into the rock and the waves did not climb this high.”
Felix touched the curious structure, examining the stones of various sizes that were chiseled to an exact precision to bind together. They were not the marble of the Temple of Light; they were rather slabs of rock stacked one upon another in a seemingly precarious manner. Yet they were mortared in such a fashion that they had withstood not only the force of the volcanic blast but also the erosion of the weather.
“You say a wise man lived here once,” Felix remarked. “It does seem wise indeed to build right into the rock. What better shelter could one seek from eruptions and the storms of life?”
Kyrene laughed her appreciation and nodded in agreement, sending her tawny mane flying around her shoulders.
“Yes, to do so is wise indeed. But the wise men have not lived here for many years; for their wisdom of long ago is lost with the ruins of the city. The only sage to live here now is a lonely hermit. His name is Xenon.”
Chapter XXX
The Waterfall of Wisdom
“It has been many years now since I first met Him. Yet, from the first day I saw Alexandros I knew my life would never be the same.”
Xenon paused and looked at the faces grouped about him: Marcus’ patrician brow furrowed in doubt, Felix’s sparkling brown eyes alight with curiosity, Fanchon’s delicate face a study in boredom, Dag’s feelings hidden by a mask of reserve, and young Cort clearly lost in a sea of incomprehension. Only from Kyrene did Xenon receive any encouragement.
“Please, Xenon,” she intoned in her warm voice. “Tell our friends the whole story.”
“Yes,” Marcus interrupted. “I do not understand your answer to my question. I asked why you use pearls in greeting, and you say because of Alexandros. Yet none of us know who this Alexandros is. Please explain.”
Xenon sighed and shook his head as he smiled slowly at Marcus.
Xenon was old, Marcus thought, very old. His face was like a scroll that had been rolled for too long and did not straighten when unfurled. His skin had the texture of parchment, and he looked so frail that a strong wind would surely carry him away. Yet there was at the same time a curious energy about him, a vitality that made him seem younger than he looked.
“To answer your questions, young man, to tell you the whole story as Kyrene requests, I must go back a long way. All the way back to the beginning of time.”
A strange tension gripped the hearts of those who listened, an anticipation that what they were about to hear was as strange a tale as any bard ever told. Xenon refreshed himself with a drink of water, then began.
“Long ago, back in the beginning, there was a Kingdom where all was perfect. Man was created by Dominio the Almighty, in His image, for His companionship and joy. Man enjoyed harmonious communion with His Creator and all of his thoughts were good and pure. But the Lord of the Astra saw this and brooded in his evil heart. Now this lord, whose name was Leon, had also been created by Dominio and had worshipped at His throne.
“But a day unimaginable came when the creature desired to be worshipped himself. This could not be, for what had he ever done worthy of worship? Had he ever created the Earth out of nothing? No. Had he ever spun the stars in their orbit, causing them to dance for joy? No. Had he ever painted the sunrise and sunset in a palette of color too beautiful to bear? No. Yet, here he was desiring to be worshipped.
“So adamant was he in this desire that he deceived others of his order, the order of the Seraphina, who hovered around the very throne of God, and induced them into making war on Dominio and the faithful host who bowed down at His feet.
“War he would have, and war he received. The foolish creature actually believed he was a match for Dominio! But he was mistaken. He and the Seraphina who took sides with him were utterly cast out of Heaven, never to return. For the transgression of rebellion against the Most High, their eternal punishment is to be cast into the Lake of Fire at the end of the age.
“Came the day when man, newly created, caught the eye of Leon. Now man and his mate had enjoyed perfect union with one another and their Creator. But Leon was jealous.
He was jealous, not of man’s relationship with Dominio, but of man’s worship of Dominio! Here, he thought in his heart, was his chance to take revenge against Dominio for his banishment from Heaven.
“For the man, called Tychon, and his wife, called Chloe, were the apple of Dominio’s eye. He delighted in them as any father does in his children. Daily He came to them in the fertile paradise where He had placed them, and enjoyed long talks and sweet fellowship with them. To Him they gave their worship, their trust, and their love. In turn He gave them authority over the entire Earth, and the wisdom to rule it.
“He laid only one charge on them: never, He told them, were they to drink from the Waterfall of Wisdom, a great fall of crystal clear water that rose deep in the forest that bordered their garden home. There were many other waterfalls, springs, and pools of water from which they were free to drink. But if they disobeyed and drank from the Waterfall of Wisdom they would be punished, for to do so meant that they did not trust Dominio for wisdom and sought their own way instead. To disobey was to reject Him as God.
“Tychon and Chloe solemnly promised with an oath never to drink from the Waterfall of Wisdom. So all was good, and there was great joy and peace.
“Then there came an evil day when Chloe desired to explore more of their beautiful home than she had thus dared. She roamed deep into the forest, away from the green garden that she knew so well. She saw flowers trailing from the trees of vivid hues and intoxicating fragrance, flowers so luscious they compelled her to pull down their blooms and inhale their aromas. Bird cries of unknown origin thrilled her ears with their strange songs.
“And then she heard it; a deep rumble in the forest, so powerful it seemed to throb in the ground beneath her feet. Intrigued, she ventured in the direction of the mysterious sound.
“Through a clearing in the wood she saw it; a colossal cascade of crystal clear water that fell from green cliffs that rose to a tremendous height.
