Ten Crescent Moons (Moonquest) (36 page)

Umbrea saw
the brief, luminous glow surrounding Adalginza, and this made her eyes grow
wide with fear. And profound respect.

"Your
existence was foretold by the Ancients. It is my honor to serve you."

But at her
words, self-doubt caused Adalginza's light to fade away.

"Serve
only if it is your will do so. I do not deserve honor, Umbrea. I have the blood
of too many innocents on my hands."

"Then
may you find peace — and redemption — when you embark on your journey to
Solaria."

***

A pervasive,
drizzling rain hung over the austere earthen dome Adalginza spied in the
distance. She shifted stiffly in the saddle, grateful that her three-day
journey was almost at an end.

The
structure blended almost perfectly with its surroundings of tropical ferns and
earthen, circular pits lined with smooth, black stones. These served as water
catchments for irrigating the marshy fields of grain cultivated in the compound
of gnostics who served the House of the Eighth Crescent Moon.

No one toiling
in the fields under broad-brimmed hats even glanced up at the arrival of an
unaccompanied lady of knights boldly sitting astride a pinto sturmon.

During her
stay on the Prime Continent and her "awakening" almost a quarter season
ago, Adalginza had discovered that the ladies here already were exploring the
comforts of traveling on sturmons in the same way as men.

Many women
of the different Houses, though certainly not those of the Fifth House, had
adopted the custom. So whisperings that condemned this mode of travel were now
confined only to a certain few who decried the loss of tradition and decorum.

Adalginza
wore an ornately embroidered, hooded cloak given to her by her grandmother as
protection against the frequent, soaking rains that often flooded the Prime
Continent.

She had at
first found the storms delightful, since their scarcity in the mostly desert
regions of the frontier made their infrequent arrival cause for joyous celebrations.

But the omnipresent
gray skies here eventually made her yearn for the sun.

In fact, mold
accompanying the constant moisture grew everywhere on the Prime Continent. For
this reason, Adalginza had developed a deep and chronic chest cough that set
back her initial recovery.

Perhaps
this, too, was fortunate. Because Umbrea was able to report honestly enough to
Benfaaro that Adalginza was still ailing.

Though her
condition remained frail, Adalginza defied her grandmother's wishes and
insisted on traveling unaccompanied to Solaria, the homeland of the Dome of
Archives and of Medosa himself.

Though she
had promised Lady Swiala that she would bed down in reputable inns along the
way, Adalginza instead had chosen to travel at night and sleep in brushy
seclusion during the day.

Strangely,
she found that riding in her old familiar way in the darkness and under the
crescent moons helped revive her strength. Here, as in the frontier, Adalginza embraced
the night as her friend.

During her
journey, she had even delighted in sharing mindlinks with the many creatures that
used the night to conceal themselves from predators and humans passing by on
the many roads crisscrossing the Prime Continent.

As she
neared the dome, Adalginza felt a brief impression of the mind that somehow
seemed familiar. She pulled up the sturmon and frowned as she peered at the formidable
fencing of mud and stone bricks separating a nearby estate from the compound
belonging to the gnostics.

But whatever
it was she had sensed was now gone.

Then a
distant thunder caused her sturmon to dance uneasily beneath her. The noise did
not sound like it belonged to the storm, and it created an unexplainable
feeling of dread within her.

She then
succumbed to a fit of coughing and wheezing, which pulled her thoughts back to
the mission at hand. After she recovered herself, Adalginza rode through the
main gate where no one challenged her.

Once inside
the compound, she dismounted from the sturmon and was met by a gnostic who wore
one of the pure white robes of the House of the Eighth Crescent Moon.

The young
man eyed her curiously, as he took charge of the sturmon's rein.

"I am
Lady Adalginza," she explained. "I have come to speak with Polyper,
who is expecting me."

"He is
about to take his meal..." The young man looked thoughtful. "But I
know your name. I am sure Polyper will want me to take you directly to him."

The entry
corridor of the dome was dark, illumined by candlelight along the way. From the
look of the mounds of wax drippings, the lighting had been used — perhaps
continuously — for many generations.

The corridor
had a dank yet pleasant smell, accentuated by the candles that were scented
with some kind of sweet-smelling flower essence.

"Many
come here for counsel," the young man explained, his voice echoing
hollowly. "We are prepared to receive visitors. Day or night."

"What
is your name?" Adalginza asked.

"Ginrel.
I am Polyper's apprentice."

"That
is interesting. Medosa once told me that Polyper was his apprentice."

The young
man's face brightened with interest.

"I had
heard that you received schooling from Medosa. He is one of our most revered
saints. In fact, a publication about his life has just been released. It is
being circulated widely."

"I
know," Adalginza said, keeping her tone neutral. "I have heard of it,
though I have not read it."

Ginrel cautiously
studied her expression.

"There
will be other publications bearing Medosa's name. Originating from here.
Written by those who knew Medosa personally."

"I am
glad."

"As are
we. Medosa always said that the teachings were more important than the man. Or
the woman. Still, the written words also should be true to the nature of the
man who is being celebrated."

"You do
not approve of the publication Lady Sagawea has authored?"

"No.
And you might find it most enlightening, Lady Adalginza, to learn that Lady
Redolo does not, either. She sent word from the frontier that she wanted her
own name removed from the pages. This has been done. And she now is working
directly with us on her newest research."

"I had
not heard this news. But I find it most gratifying. Thank you, Ginrel."

"You
are most welcome. Before you take your leave from our compound, I would
consider it a great honor to record your memories of Medosa to include in our
writings."

"I
would be very happy to do this."

Beaming,
Ginrel threw open a door to reveal Polyper just as he was pouring his wine in
obvious relishment of beginning the meal that was spread before him on the
table.

Bread, meat
with blackened streaks from searing over an open flame, and bowls of freshly
picked greens and fruit all awaited him.

He looked up
with a quick look of disappointment, just as the flask slipped out of his hands
and spilled over onto his plate. He began sopping up the mess with the nearby
cloth napkin.

"Oh.
Ginrel. You bring a visitor."

"Lady
Adalginza."

"Lady —
?" Polyper peered into the darkened hallway. "Of course! You look so
— so healthy since the last time I saw you, young lady. Do come in. Would you
like to join me for a meal?"

It was
obvious to Adalginza that there were only enough portions for one individual.
Though her stomach rumbled its own enthusiasm, she reluctantly declined.

"I have
just finished the ritual of purification," Polyper explained. "This
is my reward. A good meal. After being in meditation and going without food for
three full days and nights."

"Please,"
Lady Adalginza said. "Eat. I would like to visit with Ginrel first anyway.
I will return after you dine."

At that
moment, another gnostic — a young female also dressed in the familiar white
robes — came rushing through the door.

"Polyper!
A matter most urgent has arisen. It requires your immediate attention."

Polyper looked
mournfully down at the food. "Can it not wait?"

"No,
sir. It is.." Her eyes grew big and round. "A
fight
. Physical
violence, sir. Being exchanged by two of the young gnostic apprentices. Both
males."

"By all
that's holy. Very well..."

Mumbling,
Polyper excused himself, stood, and followed hastily after the young woman.

Ginrel
glanced slyly at Lady Adalginza, and grinned.

"I
believe there is more food prepared in the kitchen. Follow me. We will both
dine, and then we will talk of Medosa. Forgive my enthusiasm, but to meet
someone who actually knew him. It is a blessing beyond words. Unless you are
tired and wish to rest first?"

"I am
actually quite refreshed." Adalginza herself was surprised at those words,
considering the length of her journey. But she did feel renewed. "I will
help you in any way I can."

In due time,
and with full stomachs, she and Ginrel sat comfortably together in the
underground archives where oil lamps provided a flickering view of the table
with multiple scrolls laid out before them.

Ginrel
meticulously recorded her words, pausing occasionally to replenish his pen by
dipping it into a small well of ink.

"Medosa
never made a difference between the children, whether they were savage or from the
Crescent Houses," Adalginza told Ginrel. "His schoolrooms were always
full in the beginning, before the parents of the savages began to fear that he
was poisoning young minds."

"Medosa
would never do such a thing."

"I
know. It was unfortunate. And then the parents of the children of the Crescent
Houses began to worry about their children associating so closely with the savages
in these classrooms. But Medosa himself always treated us as equals. His only
desire was that we learn to think independently, and for ourselves. He said
this often."

"This teaching
of the children of the tribes and the children of the Crescent Houses together
has never been done before," Ginrel said thoughtfully. "Yet, this
information is omitted from Lady Sagawea's writings."

"This
does not surprise me."

"Medosa
often sent back writings of his own, before his death," Ginrel said. "You
were mentioned in them."

"Was I?"

Ginrel
seemed hesitant, and Adalginza reached out to touch his hand lightly with her
own. In the moist environment, she felt a cough and stifled it with the other
hand. 

"Though
I am young, I have lived what seems like many lifetimes. And the wisdom I have
gained teaches me one thing. It is better to tell the truth, no matter how
harsh it might sound to other ears."

"Very
well then." Ginrel visibly relaxed. "Medosa worried about you. And
the influence Benfaaro had over you. He called it an unholy bond. And your
mother, Lady Donzala, was too — indisposed — to protect you. Medosa did not
know then that Benfaaro was Of The Blood. And that he was the leader of the savages."

"Sagawea
used this information in her book, I presume."

"Yes,
she did. She was as welcome to our archives as any other visitor. We had no
control over what she ultimately did with the information."

"And so
the whisperings about me must be many. Because of Lady Sagawea, it is probably
being said that I am still under the unnatural influence of Benfaaro. And that
I am a spy."

Ginrel
dropped his eyes. "Such musings are in the book. Your husband, to his
credit, was highly displeased about this. You should know these words belonged only
to Lady Sagawea and not sanctioned by him. They were hidden until they became
public. And then it was too late."

"You
speak of Kalos? You know him personally?"

Ginrel
looked startled. "I thought you knew. He has been here often. Reading
about Medosa. And reading the words of Medosa."

"I did
not
know."

"He was
eager to read the passages about you and your childhood at the Place of the Circles.
And for any mention of the Seventh Crescent Moon..." Ginrel interrupted
himself, to make a series of hand gestures designed to ward off evil at saying aloud
the name of the lost House.

"When
was Kalos last here?"

"Just
within the last full passings of the moons. Before that, he was here almost every
day. I am sorry, Lady Adalginza. I really thought you knew. I thought perhaps
you had come to join him."

"It was
my understanding that he returned to the frontier."

"No, he
has been staying with..." Ginrel stopped himself, and looked away
awkwardly.

"With
Lady Sagawea?"

"Her
estate is nearby. Her School of Minds is there."