Ten Crescent Moons (Moonquest) (15 page)

"So based
on what you heard, you decided to interfere." Bruna eyed Medosa like a giant
snake might regard a baby rodent.

"I had
to see for myself."

"For
what purpose?" Benfaaro asked the question in a deceptively mild tone of
voice.

It was time
for Medosa to lie. If only he had lied. But Adalginza knew that telling the
truth was part of the gnostic's sworn creed.

"I
always thought it odd that you spent so much time with this young girl, trying
to influence her ways." Medosa addressed Benfaaro directly. "But with
her indigo eyes, I see now that she could be of great use to you in your war
against the Crescent Houses."

"I do
not know what you speak of," Benfaaro said, not sounding very convincing.

"I know
that you are the dominant chief of the savages, Benfaaro. You tried to hide
this truth from me, that you are Of The Blood, even when you were a small boy."

"You
know us well," Benfaaro said. "Maybe too well."

"I know
you and I love you," Medosa said simply. "I understand your cause."

Adalginza
felt a growing relief. She also saw her brother visibly relax. Benfaaro, in
fact, almost smiled.

"You
are an unusual man, holy one. Most people of the Crescent Houses see our people
as either slaves or vermin to be exterminated."

"I know
that," Medosa said. "And I am ashamed. This is not the sentiment of
all who live on the Prime Continent. It originates with those coming to the
frontier to justify and satisfy their land lust."

"So you
will help us?"

"I have
been helping you for many seasons."

"But
will you help us fight the Crescent Houses? Will you help us survive?"

"I can never
serve as an instrument of death."

Lady Donzala
stepped forward then. For the moment, the veil of confusion had lifted from her
face. She took Medosa's arm.

"You
said you wouldn't let them take Adalginza away from me."

Medosa
patted the woman's arm, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Lady
Donzala. This young woman is not your daughter."

"Not by
blood perhaps," Lady Donzala answered hoarsely. "But she
is
my
daughter. I raised her as my own child. And I will not let her go."

"She is
not Adalginza, the baby who was born to you."

Lady Donzala
took a deep breath, filled with racking sobs.

"You
say she is not Adalginza. But has she ever known another name?"

"Oh, by
the moon gods. I know not what to do." Medosa bit his lip, and stared at
Adalginza for a moment. "Who are you, child?"

Bruna
stepped forward, grabbed Adalginza's arm roughly and forced her to move next to
Benfaaro. "Any fool can see she is this man's sister."

"She is
Of The Blood, too?" Medosa asked incredulously. "But the indigo
eyes..."

"Belong
to the man who ravaged her mother. Her mother, and Benfaaro's mother."
Bruna regarded Lady Donzala coolly. "So the lady of the Fifth House has no
blood claim to this young woman. And, as of tomorrow, Adalginza is no longer a
child. She makes her own choices."

"I see,"
Medosa said thoughtfully. "I see that you used the heart of this poor
bereaved woman, who had just lost her baby. You used her confusion. You used her
madness, to learn the ways of the Crescent Houses to serve your own purposes."

"Medosa,"
Adalginza whispered. "Please stop."

But he
continued his accusations.

"And
you used this child, preventing her from having a will of her own. No. Do not
argue. For today, she is still a child. And let me just ask the both of you. How
dare you do this to a child?"

Benfaaro no
longer leaned against the wall. His hand hovered near the scabbard where
Adalginza knew he kept the short blade of a dagger.

"She is
my sister! And I have blood right to command her!"

"Medosa!"
Adalginza called out. "Say no more. Just go. And take Mother with you.
Please..."

The last
plea was aimed at her brother, Benfaaro, who could not meet her gaze.

"And
where do you think Medosa will go, Adalginza?" Bruna asked mockingly. "Back
to a Crescent House settlement? To tell tales? And where will Lady Donzala go,
after you are gone? Back to her people? To also tell of what she knows?"

"I am
not going anywhere without Adalginza," Lady Donzala announced firmly.

"Mother,
please go with Medosa," Adalginza begged. "Go now. Benfaaro is a good
man. He will allow it. Especially if you both promise never to tell what you
know about us."

Then she
turned to her brother. "Please. Let them go."

"Why
should I go anywhere?" Lady Donzala asked, sounding confused again. "This
is my home. This was the home of my father and mother before me."

"Eighteen
seasons," Bruna's chilly voice cut in. "We have waited eighteen
seasons for this moment. Hesitate no longer, my husband. You know these people
of the Crescent Houses cannot be trusted. Medosa is sworn to tell the truth, so
he cannot give us his word. And Lady Donzala, no matter what she promises, will
babble all she knows in a fit of madness."

Adalginza
saw the blow before it came, previewed in Benfaaro's eyes. They were so full of
pity. And misery.

He had never
struck her before, not even in play.

His fist
smashed across her jaw, which exploded in so much pain that a curtain of
darkness was drawn over her eyes.

In his own hideous
way, her brother was trying to be kind.

Her next
memory was of awakening in pain, to discover she was covered in her own blood.

Lady Donzala
and Medosa were outstretched beside her, their eyes staring lifelessly up at
the ceiling. Congealed blood covered the slits in their throats.

Benfaaro
cradled her in his arms, and quietly explained how he had carefully administered
her wound so that it would appear she, too, was a victim.

Otherwise,
there would be too many suspicions.

Bruna then hurriedly
treated her with a healing potion that eased the pain — at least, the physical
pain.

Adalginza
did not find it odd that both Bruna and Benfaaro fled so quickly after that,
leaving her wounded and all alone to deal with the carnage.

She had seen
the terror shining in their eyes. In tribal culture, the guilty had much to
fear from spirits of the murdered dead who might linger for a reckoning.

In a state
of numbing shock, Adalginza somehow summoned the strength to stumble to her
feet. She staggered to her sleep room, and found an old dress. She shredded it
for cloth, which she wrapped around her wound.

Herol
watched her every move, his eyes reflecting the grief that now threatened to
consume her.

She returned
to the living area, where she bent to take her mother's arms. She began
dragging the heavy weight through the front door.

She must
bury the dead. It was her duty. She knew her mother wanted to be laid to rest
beside her husband's remains.

Adalginza
continued with her burden, with each pull causing her more agony. Blood oozed
through her bandages. Her muscles burned with the strain.

The uphill
part was the hardest, managed only through sheer strength of will.

Finally,
Adalginza stumbled down the hill and back to the abode, where she repeated the
process with Medosa's much heavier body.

It took her
all night to dig the graves with only a sharp rock and bare hands that
eventually were raw, bleeding, and swollen.

Sometimes
she collapsed with faintness from her own loss of blood. Once she remembered
being revived with the cool feel of Herol's rough tongue on her face, licking
her as he whined anxiously.

But, finally,
it was over.

She buried
her loved ones deep, packing the dirt and rocks firmly so that predators could
not dig them back up.

It was only
then that she saw the fresh dirt of another tiny grave.

Bruna must
have reburied the remains of the baby that Medosa dug up to prove to himself
that a story told by a mad woman was true.

It was no
charitable act on Bruna's part.

Adalginza
knew Bruna wanted only to hide the evidence. And she had no fear of the spirit
of a newborn infant, which had not yet taken form.

In the end,
Lady Donzala was laid side by side with her real child — the baby named Adalginza
whose identity had been stolen.

Adalginza
was in the present now, kneeling beside three smears of dried blood.

Her fingers
gently stroked the stained floor, as though touching the essence of those she
once loved could somehow bring them back to life.

They were
gone. Forever. And she never had the chance to say goodbye.

"My mother
and Medosa both died here."

Adalginza
said this after realizing that Kalos was standing quietly above her. He had not
yet heard the conclusion of her story that omitted any reference to her true
identity. Or to Bruna.

"Who
killed them?" he asked gently.

"Benfaaro,"
she whispered.

Kalos
reached down, took her arm, and helped her back to her feet.

"Did
you see it happen?"

"No. I
was — unconscious. Benfaaro attacked and wounded me first. He thought I was already
dead."

Wordlessly,
Adalginza reached down to untie the knot of her lower shirt before pulling it
partially open. The jagged scar that was revealed traced a path from her upper
right rib cage across her lower abdomen.

"Kalmasen!"
Kalos spat out a profane curse, which equated her attacker with the dung-eating
vermin that usually resided in sewage pits.

Adalginza retied
her shirt, and lowered her eyes so that Kalos could not see her anguish.

Kalos briefly
gripped the hilt of his sword, as though imagining he faced Benfaaro at that
very moment.

"Were
you three the only citizens of the Crescent Houses still living in the Place of
the Circles at that time?"

"Yes."
Adalginza took a deep, ragged breath. "The others had moved away long
before that, out of fear of the savages. There was never a regiment of Crescent
knights stationed here for protection. This frontier post was far too isolated."

Seeing that
the evening was growing darker, Adalginza moved toward the palette of wood
stacked near the fireplace.

She knelt
and slowly began to place the sticks, one-by-one, into the blackened pit. Kalos
stooped beside her, to help stack the wood for burning.

"Your
mother's madness would explain why the two of you stayed on, despite the
growing danger. But why did Medosa stay?"

"Medosa
had lived among the savages for so long he thought they would never harm him.
He delivered many of the babies in the Tribe of the Circles. He taught the
children of at least two generations. He was like a father to many of them.
Including me. And Benfaaro."

Adalginza
gave Kalos a profoundly sad look. "We all once lived together in peace.
Why is it we cannot do so now?"

"Because
peace occurs only with the surrender of one of two opposing forces."

Kalos wore
the fierce expression of a warrior as he took out his firestone from a leather
pouch worn around his waist.

He struck
the stone against the metal grate protecting the pit to spark a small flame
amid a pile of wood shavings.

Then he gave
Adalginza a meaningful look.

"We of
the Crescent Moon Houses have the greater numbers by far. Never fear. We will
vanquish the savages. Eventually. It simply takes resolve."

Adalginza
reached out and gently placed a hand on the captain's shoulder. "But this
is the homeland of the savages. Are we not the invaders?"

"There
is room enough for all." Kalos violently stabbed an additional stick of
wood into the flame, causing it to explode with sparks. "Besides. How can
you speak on behalf of the savages, when you see your blood and the blood of
your mother and Medosa still spilled on this floor?"

The impact of
the loss she had endured silenced Adalginza completely. She could find no words
in answer.

They both
stood up together, and watched as the flame easily began to devour the wood
that had become so thoroughly dried in the two seasons spent indoors.

Adalginza
crossed her arms and hugged herself, feeling chilled even though it was not
uncomfortably cool inside.

Her teeth
began to chatter slightly, as the memories again began to crush her.

Kalos
slipped his arm around her, and pulled her close.