"I'll start by searching Matriarch Bauleel's quarters and reviewing her recent letters and personal notes."
The idea of Elder, no Matriarch, Natre violating Matriarch Bauleel's privacy made Camille's skin crawl. Matriarch Bauleel's sudden, unexplained disappearance had done nothing to shake her steadfast loyalty. Camille was sure the Matriarch had a good reason for her absence, if she'd had any control in the matter, of course.
"I've already been through her files and her quarters. I can assure you I found nothing."
"Yes, my child, I'm sure you didn't."
"I was thorough! If there was anything to report I'd have immediately brought it to the Elder's Council."
"Yes, I'm quite sure you would have. However, you do not have access to her protected files or secured areas within her quarters. Gratefully I was able to persuade the Matriarch's of Barrow's Grove, Resounding Cliff's and Kiya's Grace to grant me that level of access this morning. The system was updated with my codes shortly thereafter." She held out another piece of paper, no doubt confirming her words.
Camille took the paper and placed it upon her desk, not even bothering to read it. What was the point? It's not as if you could lie about your access codes. Either they'd work, or they wouldn't.
"Where would you like to begin?" Camille replied.
"With her private files. Can you show me where she keeps her message terminal?"
Camille hesitated only a moment. "Of course."
"This must be very hard on you. I'm sure you loved Matriarch Bauleel dearly," Matriarch Natre said. Camille nodded and opened the Matriarch's desk. "If you'd rather I choose another assistant, I'd completely understand."
Camille considered for a moment, tempted to accept any excuse to avoid working with this woman, but who'd protect Matriarch Bauleel's interests if she was gone? "It'd be an honor to continue serving the Matriarch. This is the drawer she keeps it in, but I don't have the access code for the lock."
"It's settled then. I'm sure I'll find your assistance as valuable to me as Matriarch Bauleel did."
Matriarch Natre sat down in Matriarch Bauleel's chair, and punched in a code on the drawers lock keypad. A green light next to the keypad flashed briefly, then the drawer yielded to Matriarch Natre's pull. She reached in and pulled out the message terminal, placing it flat on the desk.
Matriarch Natre, although elderly, was obviously no stranger to technology. She navigated the console expertly, quickly bringing up all of the most recently edited files and transmissions. They dated from the day of her disappearance, before the Matriarch had bade Camille a cheerful good night on her way to bed. So Camille had thought, until she checked in the next day and found the Matriarch's quarters vacant and the bed not slept in.
Matriarch Natre read a number of the notes and files. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary to Camille. Then Matriarch Natre tried to open one of the transmissions, and an error popped up, "Access Restricted." How odd, wouldn't Matriarch's have complete access to all files, regardless of the file's access level?
"I desire a moment of privacy."
"Of course, Matriarch," Camille replied, averting her eyes. She walked back over to her desk and sat down.
Camille picked up the order for a number of bolts of blue broadcloth needed to make new Apprentice robes. Camille signed off on the order and marked it for delivery to the Rask Sept, one of the premier weavers Sept's within Raven's Call.
Many minutes passed, while Camille observed Matriarch Natre's constant activity over the message terminal. "Well, this certainly changes everything," Matriarch Natre said softly. Camille wondered if she'd forgotten the Journeywoman was still within earshot.
"Did you find something that will help us locate Matriarch Bauleel?" Camille asked.
Matriarch Natre stood up. "Unfortunately, no." She placed the message terminal back in the drawer and slammed it shut. "Matriarch Bauleel made some choices I do not agree with, and I'd love the opportunity to review her reasoning with her."
"Perhaps it's something I can assist you with? Matriarch Bauleel always kept me up to date with her projects."
Matriarch Natre let out a short, derisive laugh. "Somehow, I seriously doubt Matriarch Bauleel discussed this particular issue with you. Although it might explain her sudden disappearance."
How was that possible? The Matriarch relied on her so heavily and had asked Camille to annotate documents in her name. Surely, Matriarch Natre was mistaken.
"Let's go inspect her quarters." Matriarch strode towards the door. Camille reflexively picked up her notepad and dutifully followed behind.
The trip passed in silence. Within minutes, they reached Matriarch Bauleel's quarters, and Matriarch Natre didn't hesitate in activating the doorlock. Camille was surprised she hadn't attempted to announce herself, so ingrained was the habit.
Matriarch Natre strode purposefully into the sitting room, and Journeywoman Camille followed.
"In your prior checks of Matriarch Bauleel's quarters, did you notice anything amiss?" Matriarch Natre asked.
"No," Camille answered. "I inventoried her closet, and found it lacking one set of Matriarch's robes. Presumably she wore it at the time of her disappearance."
"You're telling me you kept an accounting of how many sets of robes she had?" She walked through the Matriarch's private office, across the bedroom and into the closet, turning on the lights as she whisked through the space.
"Of course. I always made sure she had six full sets of white linen Matriarch robes available at all times. I had her maids alert me whenever a tear or blemish marred a set, and I'd have another set created to replace it."
"That's very efficient of you."
"Thank you, Matriarch," Camille replied.
"That reminds me, could you order me six sets of Matriarch's robes?"
"Of course, Matriarch. I'll schedule a fitting for later today," Camille jotted down a quick reminder on her notepad.
"Thank you, Camille. It does appear that Matriarch Bauleel kept a supply of other clothing here as well. Are you sure none of it's missing?"
"I am," Camille responded confidently.
Matriarch Natre continued her inspection, looking through the bathroom, the bedside drawers and cabinets, and again in the closet before walking back into the private office. She sat down at Matriarch Bauleel's desk and rifled through the stacks of paper and drawers.
"Perhaps if I knew what you were looking for, I could be of more assistance?" Camille offered, hoping to stem Matriarch Natre's indiscriminate investigation.
Matriarch Natre sat back in the chair and folded her arms. "I take it you've been through all of this as well?"
Camille blushed. "I thought it prudent at the time."
"And so it was, my child. I suppose you found nothing of interest?"
"Nothing unexpected."
"You knew the issues facing Matriarch Bauleel. Can you think of anywhere she might have run off to?"
"The entire Temples been gone over with a fine tooth comb, Matriarch. If she were here, we'd have located her. I personally inspected the Medicinal Vaults and Formulary three times, just in case she'd been crushed under a falling pile of medicinal bags. You know how high those can get!"
Matriarch Natre snorted out a laugh. "Oh, what a morbid thought, my dear! I doubt such a fate has befallen our dear Matriarch Bauleel. But why should you think she'd be spending time there?"
"She was concerned over the tainted luna berries."
"And did she not trust Priestess Parthe to handle the matter on her own?"
"I'm sure you're right, Esteemed Matriarch. Matriarch Bauleel stated no concern over Priestess Parthe's abilities."
"Well then, Camille, is there anywhere else you think she might have gone? Somewhere away from the Temple grounds, perhaps?"
Camille considered. "Sometimes Matriarch Bauleel would travel around the city, dressed simply as a Temple Elder. But if that were the case we'd be missing a different set of clothing, or there would have been some reports of p
eople encountering Matriarch Bauleel in her white robes in the city."
"Very true."
"The only other place she's been going recently is the Technician's wing, but I'm sure we'd have heard from them via transmission if the Matriarch had fallen ill during a visit."
"True, and there were no such communications from them on her terminal," Matriarch Natre replied. "Still, I know the other Elders are curious to get an update on that poor child the Technicians are holding, so perhaps I will visit them now regardless."
"I'd have checked with them myself ...," Camille said.
"Except that you couldn't, my child," Matriarch Natre stood. "Well, now that I've been granted access I can confer with them and eliminate their wing as a possibility for Matriarch Bauleel's location as well. Will you walk with me there?"
During the five-minute walk from Matriarch Bauleel's quarters to the Technician's wing, Matriarch Natre asked Journeywoman Camille to fill her in on all items she'd been keeping track of for Matriarch Bauleel. Camille complied, reciting the litany of assorted events and minutiae, just as she'd have done for Matriarch Bauleel during their usual morning catch-up sessions. Matriarch Natre didn't ask her to go into detail on anything, but instead quietly listened until they reached the Technician's wing.
"Excuse me, my child. Could you wait here for a bit while I check on things?" Matriarch Natre asked, and then activated the doorlock.
"Of course, Esteemed Matriarch," Journeywoman Camille replied. After the Matriarch-elect stepped through the doorway, Camille pulled out some paperwork for review from the back of her notepad. She was never one to waste time standing around, and thus always planned to have work at hand.
Almost an hour later the door opened, startling Camille out of a half-doze as she leaned against the wall. Matriarch Natre emerged, silent. The door closed behind her, and they both stood in silence for a moment.
"Is everything alright, Matriarch Natre?" Camille asked softly, sensing something had gone horribly wrong.
"I'm afraid a great tragedy has occurred here, Camille. I regret to inform you the plague-ridden Zebio child broke free and killed a number of Technicians, and escaped," Matriarch Natre explained. "Due to the damage to their facility, the few survivors were unable to alert us to the situation."
"By the moons," Camille whispered. "How many died?"
Sorrow filled her voice. "Of the six dozen or so stationed here, only eight survived."
"No!" Camille replied, distraught. "Wait, you said the Zebio child escaped, but that's impossible! The technician facility safeguards prevent unauthorized access. No one without proper clearance can open either of the exits." As the words left her lips, a sinking sensation settled into her chest.
"Matriarch Bauleel chose to visit at a very inopportune time. The Zebio child killed her too, after using her palm to activate the Technician's supply door to the outside."
Tears ran down Journeywoman Camille's face. "What a wretched way to die."
"Try not to think on it, my child. In this dire hour, we must do what we can to prevent what hardship we may. We must rouse the Guardians to find and destroy the Zebio child, and alert the city to the danger. We must contact the Technician's Guild at Resounding Cliffs and ask them to send reinforcements. Send our finest healers, so the remaining eight have what care they need. We must assess our storehouses for supplies to refurbish our Technician's tools, lost in the attack."
Journeywoman Camille tried to pull herself together, jotting down the Matriarch's requests within her notebook. She'd do Matriarch Bauleel proud. "You can count on me, Matriarch."
"I know I can, Camille." Matriarch Natre placing a hand on Camille's arm. "We must also plan Matriarch Bauleel's funeral. She will be sorely missed."
"Indeed, she shall be," replied Camille. "But we also have a celebration to plan, in honor of our newest Matriarch. The people will find joy in this news."
"The celebration will have to wait a short time, my child. Out of respect. There is much to do now."
"As you wish, my Esteemed Matriarch. There is another message terminal in Matriarch Bauleel's quarters. It's the quickest way to alert the Guardians."
"Let's go at once."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Rai spent the first three days of the journey riding with Ponar, making up for her previous avoidance of his company. His lighthearted banter helped the time pass quickly, and had the added benefit of keeping Rai from thinking too hard about her nightmares of the forest--the same forest they might soon enter at Harper's Sorrow. She doubted the chase and tormentors from her dream had been real. It's not as if any of the angry hordes would come after her again, had they ever been real, which they just couldn't be. The images continued to tug at the back of her mind as they neared the grove, building into a quiet, anxious tension.
The Guardian pushed them hard along the road, from dusk until dawn, and they reached the base of the Northern Pass the first evening despite the muck-racked roads of the swamplands. The next morning they tackled the steep, narrow pass up the side of a dizzyingly sheer cliff, which Rai found both breathtaking and nerve wracking. Along the ill-kempt Northern Road the Guardian allowed almost no breaks, pushing the horses hard. He'd appeared so driven, Rai wondered if they'd have any time to have a look around the grove once they reached it, or for that matter, if he'd even bother to point it out when they passed by.
During this leg of their journey the trees had transformed from the willowy sprawling mangroves of the swamplands to the tall, thin highland pines she'd become familiar with during her trip to Kiya's Grace. Although these trees had a similar structure to those of her nightmares, they lacked their girth and height. However, Rai did spot the occasional fern in the forest's undergrowth, but they were small and spindly in contrast to the broad-leafed giant ferns in her dreams.
Rai sighed in frustration.
"Still nothing recognizable?" Ponar asked, bringing up the familiar topic of conversation.
Rai nodded. "I'm afraid Meik's right--this route is a complete waste of time."
"Well, there's always the shawls." He arched a brow.
She laughed. "Somehow I doubt Chieftess Kait will consider those reason enough for this detour. Do we even know how much farther it is to Harper's Sorrow?"
Ponar shrugged. Rai knew he wasn't sure either. This route was new to all of them, except the Guardian--who had been everywhere. At least Rai assumed the Guardian knew the road well. Surely Guardians had to be familiar with a road before leading travelers down it? However, considering the overgrowth along the sides of the road, it didn't appear well maintained or well traveled.
"Perhaps you could ask him," Ponar suggested, motioning to the Guardian who had stopped just ahead. "Looks like we're stopping for lunch."
"Isn't it a bit early for lunch?" Rai asked, noting that the sun hadn't yet reached its zenith.
"Yeah, but we stop when he says, regardless of the time. You never know what he might be trying to avoid out there," Ponar said. Rai shivered as an image of a pack of Iron Wolves came to mind. "Why don't you just ask him when we reach the grove?"
"I don't want Meik to see me talking with him. You know how he dislikes them. I can do without a lecture on the dangers of getting too 'comfortable' with Guardians." Rai rolled her eyes.
"It's up to you," Ponar replied.
"Whether I ask or not, we'll still get there at the same time. I might as well not rock the boat and be patient."
"Hmm, and you call asking 'how much farther' every few miles being patient? Good to know," Ponar ribbed. Rai good-naturedly punched him in the arm.
Ponar pulled his wagon to a stop behind the Guardian, who was studying one of his various devices while still astride his horse. Rai heard Meik's and Laan's wagons come to a stop behind them. Ponar and Rai dismounted, eager to stretch their legs.
A few seconds later Meik appeared and walked up to the Guardian. Laan wasn't far behind. "Is everything okay?" Meik asked nervously.
The Guardian didn't
even look up at Meik. "There's a troupe of sclern up ahead."
"Why should we be afraid of them? I thought they were harmless," Meik asked. Rai remembered a picture of one from a biology textbook at the school: small, grey furred beasts that you could almost mistake for a stone, assuming they weren't moving.
"Because there are tens of thousands of them, and it's mating season." The Guardian's was once again speaking in his usual condescending tone. "The individuals tend to be quite tame, but they can become very territorial and vicious when mating. Our entry into their territory will most likely be deemed as a threat, and they have been known to swarm."
"So what can you do?" Meik asked.
"I can try to convince them to move out of the way while we run the wagons past them. How have your horses tolerated smokescreens in the past?"
"Fine," Meik answered. Laan and Ponar nodded in agreement.
"Wait, you're going to set fire to the forest?" Rai asked, alarmed at the rising costs of this detour.
The Guardian let out a derisive snort. "No, I won't. I have smoke sticks which usually scare off wildlife."
"And what if the smoke doesn't scare them off?" Ponar asked.
"Then we run as fast as we can." He answered, seemingly unconcerned with that possibility.
Rai noticed all of the Durmah shift uncomfortably, including herself.
"Perhaps we should turn back and avoid them?" Meik offered.
"I'm afraid we can't," he replied. "My scans show a pack of Iron Wolves about a day behind us, to the west. From what I can tell, they aren't pursuing us now, but we wouldn't want to aim right for them either. The best option is to push on ahead."
"Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, except this is between lots of slow, little teeth and some very fast, big teeth," Laan said, frowning. Rai held back a laugh.
"How much of the road do they cover up ahead?" Rai asked.
The Guardian rechecked his scanner. "At the moment, the troupe intersects with about a half-mile stretch of this road. With our present pace, we'll start encountering them in about an hour, hour and a quarter. The terrain's flat along that stretch, but it does run steadily uphill. I'm guessing it will take us about ten minutes to traverse the troupe, assuming their position remains the same."
The Dream Sifter (The Depths of Memory Book 1) Page 33