Her steps echoed against the floor as she took one tentative step after another toward the altar. Finding the seal of the ancient promise seemed like a far-fetched idea now that she was here.
A wave of lonely despair washed over her. Her only hope to help her sister was to believe Becknah was right—that now was the time for the power of the Getheas Stone to be found. If the quatrains in The Ages really pointed to the location of the stone, then she needed to look for the ancient seal before she left LaBricé.
Nica stopped. She stood in the center of a convergence of eight separate hallways. She leaned back and gazed in amazement up at the star shaped window far above her head that glowed as though lit from within.
“Do you like our lantern?” A gentle voice asked.
Nica jumped and whirled around to find a hunched man in a long brown robe, holding a small torch aloft. His grey hair was braided past his shoulders but his face was clean-shaven and friendly.
“Oh, excuse me, sir,” Nica said, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Tis no trouble, child. You are always welcome in the house of the Gods.” He tilted his gaze up to where Nica had been staring. “The lantern above lights The Octagon—” he swept his hand out to encompass the eight hallways— “which reminds us of how glory can come out of ruin, hope overcome despair and death lead to new life.” He stared up at the magnificent star-shaped window for a moment before he tilted his head back down to peer at her through the shadows. “You are visiting us late tonight, M’lady.”
Nica’s hood had fallen back as she’d gazed at the cathedral ceiling and she suddenly felt exposed. It took all of her willpower not to yank the fabric back over her head and hide within its depths again.
“Yes. I’m here to see the ancient promise. Could you show me where to find the document and the seal?”
“I see,” the old man said. His kind gaze took in her dark breeches and riding boots. “You wish to see the ancient doctrine?”
At Nica’s assent, he inclined his head and said, “Certainly. This way, please.”
His footsteps were a whisper on the stone floor. Nica followed, trying to soften the tap tap of her boots as she walked through the arched hallway. Near the end of the passageway, the Abbot followed another hallway that led to a large glass and wood door.
He motioned with his hand. “This is the museum portion of the cathedral where we keep the historical documents.” He pushed the door open and led Nica over to a glass case, the flame of his torch wavering as he walked. “Is this what you search for, M’lady?”
An ancient scroll covered with elegant script stretched before her in the glass case. The writing was oddly reminiscent of the quatrains and with a start, Nica realized Getheas must have written both documents. In one corner of the case an oval rock, about the size of her palm, rested. Three figures were carved into its flat surface.
“What’s that?” Nica pointed to the rock.
The old man leaned forward to see where she pointed. “Ah, that is the seal of the Ancients you’ve asked about. The stone was carved and used as a stamp to mark any official documents the three Gods created. Would you like to see it?”
Nica turned in surprise to look at the Abbot. “May I?”
“Certainly.” He held the torch out for Nica to take. “If you wouldn’t mind.” With both hands free he reached below the case and released a bolt that held the lid in place. Carefully, he swung the glass cover open and reached for the stone. “Here you are.”
With a grateful smile, Nica returned the torch to him and took the seal in both hands. It was heavier than she expected. She ran her fingers over the carved figures and turned the stone over, finding it smooth on the other side. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the exact words of the quatrain.
The power within a stone now lies
For one to live, many will die
An ancient promise marked with a seal
A clue, long hidden, waits to be revealed
The power within a stone now lies…surely that line meant the Getheas Stone and not this simple carved rock? Nica turned the stone around in her hand, but could find no evidence of a higher purpose or hidden clue.
An ancient promise marked with a seal. Could that line of the quatrain mean the document before her? She eyed the page. She could see where a stamp of the rock seal had been impressed upon the paper. Nica returned the rock to the case and ran a finger along the scroll. She looked over her shoulder at the Abbot. “May I?”
He hesitated. “Very gently, if you will, M’lady. Very, very gently.”
Nica hands shook as she slid her fingers under the old parchment and lifted the document closer to her face. The writing stretched in neat rows along the page, promising equal and just rules for all. Nica traced the border with her eyes hoping to spot a clue waiting to be revealed, but the borders were clean. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the document. She started to return the doctrine to the case when a thought struck her. Maybe Getheas had hidden the clue on the back of the page—a place not obvious to the casual observer. Taking a deep breath, she turned the page over, the parchment crackling in her hands.
Nothing.
She held the paper up to the light.
The back of the page was blank.
With a sigh, she returned the scroll to the case and reached for the torch again so the Abbott could secure the lock.
“Thank you so much,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. Why had she thought she might be able to solve this ancient mystery? A bitter taste filled her mouth.
“Is there anything else you would like to see?” The old man asked. His kind eyes probed Nica’s face.
“No, I thank you for your time.” Nica smiled.
He turned and retraced his steps.
“The cathedral is awe-inspiring,” Nica said as they walked among the arched columns and soaring spaces. “How old is it?”
The Abbott slowed and Nica caught the look of confusion on his face. Realizing her mistake, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I just can’t remember all the history,” she stuttered.
“Built in the time of the Ancients, of course. It has stood here as the heart of HighGarden for many centuries now.”
Nica stopped in the doorway to the nave and gazed up in fascination at the intricate carvings that lined the portal. “It’s amazing they had the tools to create such detailed artwork so long ago.”
“Yes.” The old man nodded, holding the candle aloft. “Each of the carvings tells a story. Each of the stories has a name.” He walked across the room. “Over here is one of my favorites.”
Nica followed him as he stopped before an arched doorway lined with circles the size of her hand. Carved within each circle was a three dimensional figure. A smaller solid circle, the size of a coin, connected the carved circles. She gasped in delight as her eyes wandered over the intricate forms—some animal, some human. One circle held a picture of a goat, another was of a wildebeare, and a third was of a man drinking from an overflowing cup. Above that was a carving of the cathedral.
Nica pointed. “What story do these carvings tell?”
The Abbot stood back and waved his torch along the arch of the circles. “This story tells of a bountiful life where the creatures and man coexist in peace and harmony.” He was silent for a long moment. “They call this story ‘The Promise of the Ancients.”
Nica admired the detailed work of the figures, her gaze traveling from one to the next when his words sank in. The Promise of the Ancients—An Ancient Promise. With a gasp she jerked around to look at him.
“Is there a carving of a seal within these circles?”
“A seal, you say?” The Abbott spoke softly, as if being drawn back from another place. “Of course, right down here.” He lowered his flame almost to the floor.
Nica dropped to her knees and peered at the carved circle in front of her. Three circles from the floor, the figure of a seal was clearly carved, his pointed n
ose tilted back, his easily identifiable tail resting along the bottom of the circle. Nica looked closer. There above the seal—on the small interconnecting circle between the carvings—something else was drawn.
“May I have the torch?” she asked. She held the flame close to the wall to examine the markings. Etched into the connecting circle above the figure of the seal, was the drawing of a crown.
Nica ran her fingers over the rough stone as a chill raised the hair on her neck. This was it. She was sure.
Holding the candle up, she worked her way along the column of spheres but no other connecting circle was marked.
She took a deep breath then pushed off the floor to face the Abbott. With a trembling hand, she held out the torch for him to take.
“Fascinating history, isn’t it?” he said, with a gentle smile.
“Indeed.”
“Shall we return to the entry now? It won’t be long before dawn is ready to break and I must prepare for morning prayers.”
Nica followed him, an image of the crown carved within the circle emblazoned on her mind’s eye. The first clue. A crown. Somehow, it was surprisingly appropriate.
“Thank you again.” Nica dipped her head to the Abbott.
“Bless you, my child,” the old man said, as he placed his gnarled hand on Nica’s head. “May you find peace.”
Nica slipped outside. The moon shown down, illuminating the spires of the church in a bath of light. For the first time in a long time, a flicker of hope warmed her heart. With a lighter step she ran for the woods to retrieve her horse.
It was still dark among the giant trees of the forest. The bite of the air felt raw and cold after the protected warmth of the cathedral. Nica’s breath came out in frosty gasps as she entered the clearing where she’d tied her horse and jerked to a stop.
The animal was nowhere in sight.
ica turned in a full circle, looking for a trail that would suggest the tether had come loose and the horse still grazed nearby. But she knew the knot had not come undone on its own.
She was just ready to bolt through the trees when a whistle sounded nearby.
“Nic.” A low voice called her name.
Nica froze. Only Toppen called her that. “Toppen?” she whispered, her heart thumping madly against her ribs.
“Nic.” The whisper came again. “Over here.”
Nica took a hesitant step in the direction of his voice, when suddenly Toppen broke through the brush and grabbed her arm. Nica swallowed her scream as she recognized her friend.
“Shhh, be quiet.” He held his fingers to her lips. “There’s a rider nearby.”
He pulled her down in the undergrowth as she threw her arms around his neck.
“I didn’t know what had happened to you,” she whispered. “I was afraid you’d been captured or worse.”
Toppen held her close for a minute, his arm protectively over her shoulders.
“That traitor let me ride free,” Toppen said in a low voice. “I guess he thought I would run back to Sartis.”
“You mean Shanks?”
“I don’t know his name. It was the soldier who set us up to be captured.” His eyes were dark with fury. “The one who forced us to help Jacoby escape. Now we’re not safe in Jarisa or Sartis.” His words resonated uncomfortably in her head for she knew they were true.
“Have you been hiding in the forest?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ve been trying to find you,” he said. “But I can’t speak this bloody language and I don’t dare speak Sartish or I’ll be arrested on the spot.” He ran his dirty fingers along her brow. “Are you all right? What have they done to you? How is it that you can travel alone? Did you escape?”
“No.” Nica hesitated. “It’s more complicated than that.”
Toppen gave her a quizzical look.
“Did you take my horse, Toppen?” Nica changed the subject before he could query her further. She wasn’t sure Toppen would understand what she had discovered in Jarisa.
“I just moved her, so you couldn’t ride off before I talked to you. You went by so fast I couldn’t catch up. By the time I got here, you were already in the cathedral and I didn’t dare risk the chance of being seen by someone associated with the church.”
The sound of movement through the underbrush was clearly audible and Toppen abruptly stopped talking. He pulled Nica’s hood up over her head and held a finger to his lips. They crouched frozen, listening, before Toppen nudged her with his hand and pointed through the forest.
Three shadows moved among the trees in the distance, the low murmur of their voices carrying across the still night air. The men seem unaware of their presence. Nica held her breath until they disappeared into the nighttime mist.
“Traders,” Toppen whispered. They waited another five minutes before he cautiously stood up and checked their immediate area. “We should leave now before they know you’ve gotten away. We need to continue on to Pont d’Suree while we have the chance.” He headed down the trail in the opposite direction of the palace.
Nica stared at his departing back in dismay. Pont d’Suree sounded like a distant dream. Part of her longed to follow him, but she couldn’t leave and carry on with their original plan—not with the knowledge she now held.
Toppen glanced back over his shoulder to where she was still crouched beside a tree. “Nic!” he whispered harshly as he gave a sharp wave of his arm. The unmistakable sound of horse’s hooves suddenly sounded through the night, headed in their direction. A look of panic crossed Toppen’s face and he darted back toward Nica, motioning for her to get down.
Frightened, Nica pressed herself against the base of the tree, not sure which direction to run. Toppen dove into the brush beside her just as a horse and rider cantered into the opening. Without slowing, the rider steered the horse directly toward them. Nica heard the ringing whoosh as a sabre was pulled from its scabbard. In the next moment, the rider was on the ground, his sword at Toppen’s throat.
Sebande’s eyes flicked to Nica. “Are you all right?”
Nica’s mouth flopped open in shock. “Sebande, stop,” she cried. “That’s Toppen, he’s my friend.”
“What are you doing here?” Sebande growled at the red-haired young man who was pinned to the ground by the point of the blade. Nica quickly translated Sebande’s question for Toppen’s benefit.
“He doesn’t understand Jarisan,” Nica said, tugging at Sebande’s arm.
“Stop it,” Sebande snapped, then added a belated, “M’lady. You cannot be heard speaking Sartish. It’s not safe.”
“Nica, tell him who I am,” Toppen ground out.
“Toppen.” Nica leaned forward and whispered. “Don’t speak Sartish right now. Because of Jacoby’s capture it’s extremely dangerous—we risk being thrown into prison.
“Why is he here?” Sebande stared at Nica.
“He’s been looking for me.” Nica stood up. “He’s going to Pont d’Suree. Just let him go and he’ll be on his way.”
Sebande gave her a hard look. “Convince him to go.” There was a warning in his words.
“Toppen.” Nica squatted down and whispered in Sartish. “I can’t go with you to Pont d’Suree right now but Sebande will let you go if you promise to leave Jarisa.” She gave him a pleading look. “Please. It’s not safe for you to stay.”
“What of you?” Toppen cried. Sebande growled and tightened his grip on his sabre, prodding Toppen’s chest with the blade until he lowered his voice. “You don’t mean to stay, do you?’ “Why won’t you come with me? Is he threatening you?”
Sebande glowered at both of them. “No, he’s not threatening me. I have to stay. I can’t explain it right now.”
“Why?” Toppen almost pleaded. “Why can’t you come? Let’s stick to our plan Nica. Three or four days to freedom. We can still make it.”
“Enough,” Sebande said. He lifted his sabre from Toppen’s throat and in one smooth vault, kicked his leg over his horse and pulled himself up. He held
a hand out to Nica. “Get on my horse.” It was an order.
Toppen scrambled to his feet as Nica stepped toward Sebande’s horse.
“Nic, what are you doing?”
Nica wondered the same thing but she couldn’t leave with Jaaniyah missing. She couldn’t leave until she understood who she really was. She reached for the soldier’s hand and he pulled her up to sit in front of him on the large saddle. Sebande held his blade loosely in one hand, pointed in Toppen’s general direction.
“Tell him this is his only chance to leave Jarisa. If anyone sees him again, including me, he will be captured as a spy.”
“Toppen, go, while you have the chance,” Nica said in a low voice. “When I can leave I will come find you in Pont d’Suree.”
Sebande didn’t give Toppen a chance to answer. Instead, he jerked his horse’s head around and kicked the beast into a canter. Nica tried to look back but Sebande’s wide shoulders blocked her view.
They hadn’t gone far before Nica asked, “Why aren’t you following Jaaniyah?”
“Others are going after the princess.” Sebande’s tone was short. “My job is to stay with you.”
“You mean you followed me?”
“You told me where you were going.” Sebande’s voice was tight.
“I didn’t tell you so you could follow me.” Nica tried to curb her anger. “I thought you were going to save my sister.”
“She’s not the only one who needs to be guarded,” Sebande replied. He cast an eye at the sky. “We can’t ride in like this. We’ll have to find another way.”
“My horse,” Nica gasped. She twisted in the saddle. “My horse is still back there.”
Sebande snorted with disgust. “If your friend has any sense, he’ll steal your horse and get out of Jarisa while he’s still alive.”
Nica straightened in the saddle, gripping the saddle horn with both hands. “I’m not going back to the palace. No one knows the castle at Sartis, or Mosaba’s moods, better than I do. Unless your soldiers can recover Jaaniyah before they get her to the border, then I’m her best chance of survival.”
The Midnight Spy Page 13