“Go back to sleep,” Marla whispered to the little creature, “I’m just going out for a bit.”
Zizi blinked her amethyst eyes and then snuggled back in with a contented purr. Marla pulled one of the robes from the stack as her thoughts returned to her father again.
Her father... Marla still struggled with the reality of it. He had been alive all this time, and they had never known it. What would her mother say? How would she feel to find him, still alive? Had he tried to send word? Had he tried to return home... somehow? For that matter, how had he traveled across the sea? Certainly it was the work of the mysterious dragons of Lapria, the ones who had considered vampires an abomination, yet he did not seem to be a prisoner here. The few of his fellow monks that Marla had met the night before seemed to defer to him in all things, as though he were a man of great importance among them.
As she slipped into the silken robe, Marla began to organize her list of questions in her head. Finding no shoes to go with the robe, Marla padded silently to the door on bare feet. She pulled it open quickly and stepped into the hallway, shutting it behind her before the light could rouse the slumbering vampire within.
She had only vague memories of the outer hall from the night before. Her exhaustion, coupled with the delirious joy of finding her lost father had rendered her memory of it all a bit hazy. She found herself standing in a long, curving hallway, lined with doors along the outer curve and paneled with thin plates of white and green jade along the inner wall, carved into a mural of a storm-tossed ocean, illuminated from behind with sunlight from the courtyard at the center of the great dome. Claude and James were asleep in one of the other rooms while Nerrys had been taken elsewhere to tend her injuries. Of the whereabouts of the cave troll Lump, she had no idea.
Marla stood for a moment, admiring the workmanship of the jade mural, and marveling at the beauty of the light seeping through the stone from the garden beyond. She had often faced such indirect sunlight during her years in Wythr, but the pale glow of it had always left her feeling sick to her stomach. Now she felt only a warm sense of well-being, almost as though she could still hear the lingering harmonies of the great dawnsong playing across the graven curves of jade.
An overwhelming sense of peace now filled Marla’s spirit, and she smiled as she strolled down the curved hallway, listening to the sounds of birds singing in the garden behind the jade wall, and the trickle of water over stones. The cool weight of the morning air on her skin carried with it the scent of evergreens and flowers, mingled with traces of a faint, metallic scent, like the caverns of Thrinaar. This was a dragon place.
“Good morning,” spoke a voice, startling Marla from her trance-like state as she drifted around the curve of the hallway into a circular foyer.
A man in white, gold-trimmed robes stood, looking through an open wall panel into the central garden. The morning light spilled in through the open door, infusing the man’s long, wispy hair with a silvery light as he turned to face her. He moved with an almost cat-like grace, and, for a moment, Marla thought he must be an elder vampire. Certainly, he bore the same, angular features that most elders of her kind possessed, but his eyes shone like purest ice, colorless and lacking the golden, reptilian irises so common among elder vampires. His complexion, neither pale nor dark, cast off an almost metallic sheen where the light fell across his kindly face. Marla could not guess his age, for he appeared no older than a man of twenty, and yet something about him hinted at something much, much older.
“Good morning,” Marla answered, crossing her arms and bowing slightly.
“You are Berrol’s daughter, yes?” the man asked with a gentle smile.
“Yes,” Marla said, “Is my father still asleep?”
“He is,” the man replied, “I had understood that it was the nature of your kind to avoid the light of the sun.” He gave Marla a curious look as he gestured toward the sunlit garden.
“It is,” Marla said, “but something has happened to me recently that has... altered my nature, it seems.”
“Ah, a... metamorphosis,” the man said as though struggling to recall the Gloaran word.
“Yes,” Marla said, smiling as she nodded, “May I ask, are you a Laprian?”
“Yes,” the man said with a warm grin, “I am Brother Tye, your father’s... custodian.”
Marla narrowed her eyes. “Is my father a prisoner here?” she asked.
Brother Tye smiled again. “Your father is anomoke,” the Laprian said, “It means that he is an honored guest... who may not leave.”
“Ah,” Marla said, studying the polished wooden slats that formed the floor of the sun dappled foyer, “and are we... anomoke as well?” She looked at the man again to judge his reaction.
Brother Tye now studied the floorboards for a moment as well before replying, “That question rises from me like smoke into the heavens, and we must await the rain to know its answer.”
“So you have superiors?” Marla asked.
“The Empress will soon know of your arrival,” Tye said.
“Empress?”
Tye nodded. “She watches over us from the Cedar Throne,” he said, “She will, I have no doubt, wish to learn of your travels as well as your recent metamorphosis.”
“May we meet with her?” Marla asked.
“The Empress will summon you, if she so wishes,” Tye said, “Until then... you are the guests of this temple, and may move, as you wish, within its walls.”
“Thank you,” Marla said.
“Of course,” Tye said, “I have known your father for many years now, and I would extend such courtesy to any member of his family. He is a dear friend.”
“Did he teach you to speak Gloaran?” Marla asked.
Tye smiled. “Yes,” he said, “though he told me that the language was called Rhaemic. Did I misunderstand?”
“No,” Marla said, “Rhaemic simply refers to our lands as a whole, which we call Rhaema, as we refer to your land as Lapria. Gloar is an ancient province of Rhaema, from which we derive our common language.”
“Ah, I understand, thank you,” Brother Tye said with a slight smile.
“You called this place a temple,” Marla said, “Is it dedicated to a particular god?”
“A god?” Brother Tye asked with a curious look.
“Oh, I mean a powerful being,” Marla said, trying to think of the Rhaemic gods she knew and how to describe them to an outsider, “Like one of the ancient beings, created at the same time as the Dragon Queen.”
“Ah, you mean the Old Ones,” Brother Tye said with a slight nod, “We call them the Higiro. They are not... worshipped here, for they are all dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes,” Tye said, “The Higiro turned against us in the Day of Fire and slew many that might have lived. The Empress was forced to... devour them.”
“She devoured them?” Marla asked incredulously.
“Is that not the word?” Brother Tye asked, “I meant to say that she took them in... as food... against their wishes.”
“Oh, yes,” Marla said, not certain that she still wanted to meet this empress, “That is the proper use of that word.”
“Good,” Tye said with a relieved smile, “Your father is a very good teacher.”
“So, you have no gods here, because your empress... ate them?” Marla asked.
“Yes, that is true,” Tye confirmed, “and so, this temple is not a monument to any god but rather a place where we may meditate upon a certain truth. There are many such temples throughout our land, each one devoted to a different truth. This is the temple of Gau Behr.”
“What is Gau Behr?” Marla asked.
“Gau Behr is a thing that one fears, only because one does not yet understand it,” Brother Tye said, “A most fitting place for you to have chosen for your arrival.”
“I hope that you do not fear me,” Marla laughed, “but I didn’t exactly choose to come here.”
“Perhaps not with your mind,” Brother Tye said w
ith a smile, “but the heart sometimes leads when the path lies in shadow.”
Marla smiled and nodded in return.
“Come, walk with me, if the light does not bother you too greatly,” the Laprian monk said, his silken robes rustling as he lifted his hand toward the garden.
“No,” Marla said, looking toward the sunlit path outside with a little thrill of trepidation in her heart, “I would like that.”
Cool light filled the courtyard garden in the center of the large, ring-shaped dormitory. Puffy white clouds filled the crystal blue sky above, diffusing the sunlight into a silvery glow, and snow glittered on the hazy peak of a great mountain that loomed above the monastery. The morning breeze moaned in the fir trees that towered beyond the rose-colored rooftops of the domed buildings, and Marla could smell the hint of an icy stream somewhere nearby.
“Are we high in the mountains?” Marla asked.
“As high as one may comfortably climb without leaving our friends the tree and flower behind,” Brother Tye said, lifting a leafy vine, covered in small purple flowers from a nearby trellis.
“What kind of flower is that?” Marla asked.
“A kind of sweet pea, I believe,” Tye answered, “Our gardener is fond of them.”
“Is your gardener a dragon as well?” Marla hazarded.
Brother Tye shot her an embarrassed look, and Marla grinned at having guessed correctly about his true nature.
“Is my guise so imperfect then?” Tye asked, his voice now rumbling with draconic undertones.
Marla shook her head. “I only guessed your nature because of the way your body moves,” she said, “and because of what I knew about the people who took my father away.” She thought about mentioning the faintly metallic scent of his breath as well, but feared it might be considered rude.
“Ah,” the Laprian monk sighed, “I shall endeavor to be more... human in the future.”
“Is it an illusion, then?” Marla asked.
Brother Tye narrowed his eyes, uncomprehending.
“A trick of the light,” Marla said, gesturing vaguely, “A way to fool my eyes into seeing you as a human, while your true body remains hidden.”
“Oh, ah, no,” Tye said, looking as though he were struggling to properly explain it all, “This is my body... at this time. It was with some difficulty that I, and the other acolytes of Gau Behr, have changed ourselves to appear more like your father and the people of the valley below.”
“There are humans in the valley?” Marla asked.
“Yes,” Tye said, “There are many human settlements across the land. The Empress watches over and governs them through her appointed officers.”
“Human officers?”
“No, they are dragons like you and I,” Tye said.
“But I am part human,” Marla said.
“Yes, your father has tried to explain that arrangement to me many times,” Tye chuckled, “Yet I must admit that, beyond the outward form, I fail to see the difference between father, or daughter, from my own people.”
“And what of my friends?” Marla asked, “What do you make of them?”
“I have not met them,” Tye admitted, “They were sleeping when I returned to the monastery this morning.”
“Oh,” Marla said, “I don’t remember much about last night really. It all seems like a blur now.”
“A blur?”
“Oh, I mean it all seems... unclear,” Marla said.
“Ah,” Brother Tye said, “We must trust that all will become clear in time.”
Marla nodded, closing her eyes and breathing deeply as the clouds parted to allow the shining light of the sun to wash over her face. The scent of flowers and growing herbs filled her with an intense longing to experience everything the day had to offer, though she didn’t even know where to begin.
Her stomach rumbled.
“I have forgotten to offer you breakfast,” Brother Tye apologized, “Do you share the same diet as your father?”
“Yes,” Marla said, blushing slightly, “I am a bit... thirsty.”
“Come this way,” the Laprian monk said with a polite smile as he ushered her toward the far end of the courtyard.
They passed through another paneled door into a long hallway that led to what Marla suspected was another dome entirely. Descending a series of wooden steps, they emerged into a large dining area, filled with long, polished wooden tables, illuminated from above by a series of skylights formed of rock crystal set into the ceiling. A brightly painted mural of stylized clouds covered the ceiling, and a series of stone pedestals, containing all manner of cook pots and small fires ran along the back wall.
The scent of cooking food washed over Marla now, awakening an intense craving within her that she had never felt before.
“What is wrong?” Brother Tye asked, shocked by the sudden tears that now streamed down Marla’s cheeks.
“I... I think I’m hungry,” Marla gasped.
“Then you have come to the right place!” Tye laughed. He ushered her quickly to a nearby table before hurrying back through one of the side doors behind the kitchen area.
Marla stepped away from the table and took a few cautious steps toward the bubbling pots and slowly roasting meat along the far wall. Her mouth wouldn’t stop watering, though she did not feel particularly thirsty. She hadn’t tasted blood since the previous day, and then only a few swallows. She should be going mad with thirst by now, but instead she found herself staring down at what appeared to have once been a rabbit, now spread, roasting over a low fire. It smelled very, very good.
“This is Brother Tuan,” Tye said, reappearing from the back with a stocky, silver-haired man at his side, “He prepares all of our meals, your father’s included.”
“I welcome your presence,” Marla said, bowing slightly to the newcomer.
Brother Tuan smiled through his wispy silver beard, and his coppery eyes twinkled as he bowed his head in return. “Please, choose a table,” he said as he untied his smudgy apron and smoothed his russet-colored robe.
Marla stepped over to one of the long tables that stood, just above waist-height. Apparently, the monks ate standing up. She folded her hands on the polished wood of the tabletop and watched as Brother Tuan hurried to fill a large wooden bowl with a sampling of almost every dish being prepared in the kitchen.
Her stomach grumbled again as she watched him heap the bowl high with noodles and meats and vegetables of every color. She felt an almost illicit thrill as she anticipated her first taste of solid food. She had always looked upon human food at best with indifference. The mere thought of consuming it had always filled her with nausea, and even the slightest taste of tea or broth had sent her running to a basin. Now, somehow, her body told her that this was something good, something she could enjoy without reaping any dire consequences.
She let out a little whimper of disappointment as the cook veered away suddenly on his way to her table.
“One more thing!” Tuan mumbled as he headed into the back room again, still carrying Marla’s bowl.
Brother Tye smiled politely in response to Marla’s pleading look.
Tuan emerged from the back room a few moments later, carrying a dark glass bottle in one hand and the bowl of food in the other. He laid both down in front of Marla on the table.
“Your father’s favorite,” Brother Tuan said, gesturing toward the bottle, “Kirikama.”
“Kirikama?” Marla asked.
“Yes,” Brother Tye said, “a local family of fox-kin provides us with an offering of blood, in addition to a wonderful jelly they make from the mountain grapes.”
“If you are still with us in the fall, you should try some!” Brother Tuan said. Then, gesturing toward Marla’s bowl, he added, “Please enjoy.”
Marla looked down at the bowl heaped with human food and then at the bottle of blood on the table beside it. She reached out, hesitantly, and plucked a wobbly noodle from the bowl. She held it to her nose and sniffed at it. Her senses tingl
ed with anticipation at the strange aroma of the thick brown sauce that covered the noodles. She made up her mind at last to try it, and then popped the noodle into her mouth.
It lay there on her tongue, tasting wonderful. She moved it around inside her mouth, feeling its springy texture and letting the sweet sauce trickle down her throat. She tried to swallow, but then coughed the noodle back into her mouth, snorting air through her nose.
Her eyes bulged at the unpleasant sensation of choking as she coughed again, putting her hand to her lips to prevent the wayward noodle from escaping.
“Perhaps, you should chew first,” Brother Tuan offered helpfully.
Marla nodded. She tongued the noodle into place between her back teeth and bit down, smashing the noodle in a manner that was not unpleasant. She slowly masticated the bit of food, forcing herself to explore this new technique with a somber thoughtfulness, though her rumbling stomach voiced its disapproval at the delay.
At last, she could no longer bear the anticipation, and she swallowed again. This time, the noodle slid down her throat without protest, and a warm, almost magical sensation of delight spread through her body. She grinned as she snatched up a greenish stalk of some sort of vegetable and took a bite.
Brother Tuan and Brother Tye grinned as well, as they watched Marla eat. After a few moments, their smiles softened into looks of concern as the vampire girl began to wolf down the food by the handful, her fingers and face now sticky with sauce.
“Perhaps a bit more slowly,” Brother Tye suggested, “It is not good for the... digestion to eat so quickly.”
“... ‘he wha?” Marla mumbled through a mouthful of bean pods.
“Your digestion,” Brother Tye said, “I believe that is the proper word... your insides... where the food settles within you. If you eat too quickly, you may become ill.”
Marla swallowed. “Oh,” she said.
A small cramp in her midsection brought a grimace of discomfort to her sauce-smeared face.
“Have a drink?” the cook offered, gesturing toward the bottle.
Marla nodded, taking the neck of the dark glass bottle in her sticky fingers. She brought it to her lips, tasting its flavor, like the scent of pine and mountain air and laughter.
Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6) Page 22