“Very much,” Father Griffith replied. “Thank you for everything.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure. Now, are you ready to visit our library?”
“Absolutely.”
“This way. We will take the stairs.” She led him to a winding marble staircase to the left of the entrance. They climbed one flight to reach the second floor gallery.
“The gallery on this floor is the library,” Markiza explained. “It wraps around the entire floor. You can enter to my left or right,” she continued, pointing to two arches through which Father Griffith caught a glimpse of books… He quickly moved towards the closest arch. The library consisted of what appeared to be an endless row of books stretching from here to eternity. They were lined against the wall and before them were placed several rectangular reading tables.
“There is an index of sorts,” Markiza explained apologetically, pointing to a portion of the wall nearest the archway. “Since many of the books here are part of the Book of Shadow, you may find the index less than satisfactory, I am afraid. Our guests from beyond the Veil seem to find our approach to the Book of Shadow a little, how shall I say? Undisciplined, perhaps?” she said playfully.
“I don’t mind.”
Markiza gave him a roguish smile. “You will find it might try even your patience, my dear, but I will try to make it a little easier for you. For instance, the books from here to the end of this corridor relate to the Three Rivers that comprise the Book of Shadow.”
“Pardon?” Father Griffith asked, at a loss.
“Our whole world is part of the River Traditions, you see. That is just the name given to the loosely interwoven customs, traditions and stories of the lands surrounding the Mighty Rivers, as they are known. Three of those – the Red River, the River of the Sun and Moon, and the Tiger River – comprise the territory covered by the Book of Shadow. It is generally accepted by historians that Evening Song originated on the banks of one of the minor tributaries of the Sun and Moon.
“They are descriptive names,” Markiza continued. “The earth along much of the banks of the Red River, which is the shortest of the three and to the east of Pera, is of a reddish hue; hence the name. The Tiger River, even further east, roars like a wild creature. It is an untamed, untamable thing that will destroy any dam or bridge that tries to leash it.
“And the River of the Sun and Moon – the furthest east – is the largest of the three. It is also known as Lifegiver, because it irrigates all the lands it flows through. It is not wild like the Tiger; it is willing to cooperate with the population. They all coexist: the people, animals, the land, and the Sun and Moon. Its name refers to the self-contained universe of Day and Night. Without the River of the Sun and Moon, the land would die, so the River is the universe of the people who live there.”
Father Griffith nodded thoughtfully. “I think I have a lot of reading to do.”
“Take your time. I will leave you now. Is that alright?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He walked slowly to the shelves and pulled out a book at random. It was thick and bound in dark leather, and the cover was embossed with the likeness of a white crocodile…
48
In the dining room, Bruce poured himself a cup of strong black coffee and was in the process of buttering a piece of toast when Father Griffith entered.
“Morning, Roland.”
“Morning?” Father Griffith took a seat opposite Bruce. “It’s afternoon, I think.”
“Might be,” Bruce said, unruffled. The midday sun shone brightly in the clear sky, streaming in through the French doors. The distant squawk of sea birds was the only sound besides the gentle clatter of their cutlery.
“Didn’t Sofia wake you up?”
“I was smart this time,” Bruce chuckled. “ I let her out when we came home last night. Where have you been? I thought you were asleep but you look like you’ve been outside.”
“I went to the House of Light and Dark and spent a few hours in the library.”
Bruce nodded.
“Is there still no sign of Orion?”
Bruce shook his head. “No. I wonder where he is.”
“Who knows?” Father Griffith raised a meaningful eyebrow. “He is a mysterious young man,” he said darkly.
“Ah, this must be Cat,” Bruce said expectantly turning towards the door.
Instead, a woman with a head of long, red corkscrew curls, flounced into the room. “Good morning,” she announced trailing a forest green cape and a middle-weight man wearing an apologetic smile.
“Good morning,” said the man hurriedly, moving forward to shake their hands. “I am so sorry to bother you in the middle of breakfast. I am Olgun Parsinval, and you must be?”
Bruce and Father Griffith introduced themselves.
“Ah yes, absolutely delighted,” the man continued. “I am by way of being the mayor. I am sorry we didn’t have a chance to meet yesterday. Oh, and this is Fiona Manx–” he gestured towards the woman standing at the head of the table with her hands on her hips. “My second in command. The vice mayor.”
“Yes, we’ve met,” Father Griffith said mildly.
“Where is Orion?” Fiona demanded.
“In my bed,” Cat replied promptly, choosing that moment to walk in through the open door. She let out a long peal of laughter as they turned to her wearing expressions of varying degrees of shock and indignation. “No, no,” she shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Just my little joke. Hello, Fiona.” She held out her hand, tilting her head like a bird. “Orion told us so much about you after you left us last night. I know he can’t wait to see you!”
Fiona looked down at the hand as though at a particularly unattractive insect. “You must be Cat Trahan,” she said with a half smile.
“Clever!” Cat cried. “Obviously nothing gets past you, especially considering we met just last night. And this gentleman must be–”
“The mayor,” Fiona said icily.
“Oh my dear Mr. Mayor, how are you?” Cat shook Parsinval’s hand warmly.
“Delighted to meet you,” Parsinval replied, with equal enthusiasm. “I understand you were a governor in your part of the world.”
“Oh don’t let’s talk politics,” Cat reproached him gently.
“I– we are sorry to intrude–” Parsinval said quickly. “We were simply looking for … Orion. Um, if you see him, we, I, would be quite pleased to see him at his earliest convenience–” he added uncomfortably.
Fiona pulled out a chair noisily and sat down.
“Coffee?” Cat offered innocently, taking a seat next to her.
“No thank you,” Fiona replied coldly.
“I do love the coffee you have here.” Cat turned to Parsinval who was still standing uncomfortably by the table. “My dear Mr. Mayor, please, please sit down–” she insisted, patting the chair next to her. “Look they have set the table for six. I suppose they were expecting Shady and dear Orion… and maybe Peter!” She flashed a smile at Fiona. “Have you seen Peter? We haven’t seen him since we landed, have we?” she asked, turning to Bruce.
Fiona tapped impatiently on the table. “Olgun–” she called out peremptorily. “Where else could he be?”
“If you mean Orion–” Cat interrupted, “he might be anywhere!” She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “He left us after midnight – not last night, you understand, the evening before – I think. I recall he said he had all sorts of business to attend to.” She smiled sweetly. “Coffee, Fiona, darling?”
Fiona waved her away impatiently. “He should come back here. He must.” She rapped loudly on the table.
“Whatever you say, darling,” Cat said in a bored voice as she poured herself a cup of black coffee. “What has Orion done anyway?”
Fiona laughed derisively.
“That’s right, Fiona, what have I done?” said Orion from the doorway.
Fiona rose abruptly, and pushed her chair back with a sudden movement. Cat shuddered as the chair scraped noisily a
cross the floorboards. Orion advanced upon her slowly… almost like a leopard, thought Father Griffith, catching his breath involuntarily. A predator.
“What have I done, Fiona?” Orion’s voice was soft. Menacing. “I am glad to see you here, by the way. Saves me the trip. I assume Peter told you I would be looking in on you sometime…”
The mayor cleared his throat. “Ah, Orion–” he interjected quickly, and leant forward for a handshake. “So glad. So glad you’re here.”
“Mayor,” Orion nodded towards Parsinval. His tone grew less threatening. “How can I help you?” He was standing at the edge of the table, next to Cat, an arm’s length from Fiona.
Parsinval glanced quickly at Fiona who was breathing heavily. “A misunderstanding, I’m sure–” he began.
“No!” Fiona stamped her foot. “It is no misunderstanding.” She had regained her composure. Standing tall, she stared at Orion defiantly. “We had a visitor yesterday afternoon,” she said, enunciating each word carefully.
“Who was it darling? Anyone we might know?” Cat piped up. Orion looked mildly interested.
Fiona ignored Cat. “We received a message from the islands. From Twilight’s Hand,” she said, smiling nastily.
“Is that the gentleman we saw on the island? You know, where we found Dalga – tall fella, dressed in some sort of robe. Poor dear: needed a haircut badly–” Cat declared and looked around the room innocently. Father Griffith gave her a meaningful look.
“No, I think she must mean some other Twilight’s Hand. We saw the then Elder-in-Waiting,” Orion replied pedantically, adding in a quieter tone, “He is now the Elder, you know, Fiona.”
Fiona’s eyes darted around the room. “Yes, I read all about it!”
“Oh dear,” Cat gave Fiona a look of commiseration. “I know how hard it can be to keep up with people sometimes. The thing to do, I always say, is to take good notes and keep them in a handy place–”
“Several of the Twilight’s Hands had a complaint, Orion,” Fiona said, interrupting Cat. “Do you know what it was? I’ll give you a hint. It was about you.”
“Oh yes,” Orion smiled. “I was there last night.”
“Tut, tut,” said Cat. “Have you been a bad boy, Orion?”
“Ah well…a misunderstanding, I’m sure–” the mayor hazarded hopefully.
“Not really,” Orion explained as he shook his head. “I was looking for information.”
“You might have asked?” Parsinval suggested. One did not insist on anything with Orion… “Instead of… um…threatening to kill everyone on the island.”
“I did ask,” Orion replied. “I merely told them I would kill everyone over the age of eleven in the event they tried to hold the Cypress Ritual.”
Father Griffith sighed inwardly. Dear God… I bet he did exactly that, and meant every word…
“Oh a jest!” Parsinval said, relieved. “Well that’s perfectly understandable given how upset you – um, we all are about the resurrection of the Cypress Ritual. Hmm? Yes. Perhaps an apology then?” The mayor looked at him ingratiatingly. “More diplomatic to issue an apology? Hmm?”
“They also killed Carl,” Orion said.
“Hah! You would say that of course,” Fiona scoffed. “Olgun, don’t listen to Orion.”
“But my dear. Fiona–” The mayor spread out his hands. “If Orion says the islanders killed Carl – a wonderful man, incidentally – then what can I say?” He looked at her helplessly.
“You believe him?” Fiona rounded on Parsinval. “Without any evidence? The police had to let him go because they said it was most likely an accident. And you believe him?” She pointed accusingly at Orion.
Parsinval looked at her, puzzled. “Of course I believe him.”
“Where I come from – where we all come from, actually, including Orion –” she began, but was interrupted by Cat this time.
“What about that child?” she asked, looking pointedly at the mayor. “That girl we rescued from the islands. Cypress. What are you doing about that? To my mind, that is the salient issue we ought to be focusing on, don’t you agree? I mean, why do we care about the murderers’ hurt feelings? Surely, that is the least of our worries. Hmm?”
“Oh that is a tragedy,” Parsinval said. “What a relief you were in time–”
“Never mind about that,” Cat said impatiently. “Instead of ganging up on Orion here, who I am sure was acting in Pera’s best interest,” she added loyally, “what I think you should be focusing on is the fact that they are back to killing children! Didn’t you bring that issue up with your precious Twilight’s Hand, Fiona, my love?”
“Twilight’s Hand who wrote to me was not involved in the Cypress Ritual. I am certain of it. He said he would never be able to forgive himself for not knowing. Naturally, he assured me that the culprit or culprits would be disciplined. It’s lucky the child was found alive. I don’t know how she managed to survive all that time!”
“And you believed him,” Cat said sarcastically. “Without a trace of evidence?”
Fiona gave Cat a condescending look. “Yes, we did,” she said, glancing at Parsinval. “I know Orion has a way with women,” she continued, with a patronizing smile, “that’s how he’s able to get away with practically murder!” she laughed indulgently. “Women seem to fall for him left and right, don’t they, Orion?” Her smile was brittle.
“It’s all right, darling.” Cat patted Fiona’s hand consolingly. Fiona whipped her hand away.
“All the Twilight’s Hands attended the Ceremony of the Silent Dark, and they were all, I repeat, all, present for the tree-planting ceremony, Fiona. There is no Twilight’s Hand whose hands are clean. None. You know it. I know it. The Mayor knows it. And the Twilight’s Hands know it,” Orion said evenly. “I already spoke to them. Before dawn this morning, we had a collective talk. They understood what I had to say. And what I said was this:
“That there would never be another Cypress Ritual. Never. And that if anyone attempted to resurrect the ritual, I would, as I said before, order everyone on the islands over the age of eleven to be killed. I told them there would be no exceptions, and that the children would be brought to Pera. I told them I would see to it that their entire culture and traditions were completely and irretrievably obliterated.
“I don’t know what your Twilight’s Hand told you I said, but that is exactly what I did say to the residents of Stone Island today at dawn.”
“No!” Fiona cried. “No, no, no! You will not meddle in state affairs. And no pirates will be sent to the islands!” She banged her fist on the table.
“As you wish,” Orion said evenly. “No pirates will be sent. They are not needed. The islanders must learn to address their problems internally. If they need to cull, so be it.”
Parsinval looked uncomfortably from the seething Fiona to Orion and then to Cat. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Trahan, there is not a great deal we can do with respect to the islanders – officially–” he said reluctantly. “They have refused our jurisdiction–” he looked at Cat appealingly. “In light of what Orion has told us, I am quite sure they will take all actions necessary to make sure it never happens again.” He smiled what he hoped was an ingratiating smile.
“Enough of this!” Fiona cried impatiently. “We’re here about Orion.” She had shelved the matter of the islanders for the moment in favor of the matter closest to her heart.
“Madam,” Father Griffith began, “It cannot be enough to brush the attempted murder of a child under the rug in this manner. While I agree that Orion’s speech lacked tact, for want of a better word, he was simply trying to get them to see the error of their ways, and ensure that the tragedy will not be repeated. After all, it has happened once. It might again. It is likely that another attempt may be made.” He turned to the mayor. “Sir, I appeal to you, as the mayor of Pera, you cannot simply let this matter rest. Your conscience cannot permit it.”
“He has a good point,” Cat nodded vigorously. Parsinval shifted
uncomfortably.
“I– we – I will call a committee on this issue,” he announced.
“I would,” Cat said promptly. “Who will you call? I think we should be included, don’t you think, Roland? After all, we were there. We found her. Well, it was Sofia really, but she can’t sit still long enough these days to stay through an entire committee meeting.” She smiled.
“Er–” the mayor began hesitantly, but Fiona waved him into submission.
“We can have a conference in due course. Right now, I want to know how we are going to deal with Orion’s appalling behavior!” She smiled at him insolently. “He went to the islands in the middle of the night, uninvited – an incontrovertible breach of protocol, at the very least!”
“By the way, what else did the Elder say in the note, Fiona?” Orion asked.
“What? He’s not there,” she replied quickly, realizing her error too late.
“The Twilight’s Hand who wrote to you was not the Elder? I would have expected him to write,” Orion continued.
“No,” Fiona said. “I – I didn’t say it came from the Elder. You were there,” she continued, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You should know if he was there.”
Orion raised his hands as if in defeat. “I didn’t say he wasn’t there, did I?”
Nonplussed, she looked towards the mayor for support. The mayor coughed gently.
“Why? Do you know something about the Elder that I don’t?”
“What are you talking about?” Fiona fumed. “I have no idea where the Elder is.”
“Well, shouldn’t he be on his island?” Cat asked, smiling sweetly.
“He is,” Orion nodded.
“What?” Fiona looked confused. “He’s on the island?”
“Shouldn’t he be?” Orion asked. “Where is he, Fiona?” His voice was almost gentle.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t know where he is.”
“I believe you,” Orion said, still using the same gentle tone. It surprised Cat. “Which is a problem because I believe he was involved in Carl’s killing, Shady’s potential poisoning, and it looks like he conspired to kill Dragan and Philippa.” He sighed. “I hope we find him soon. Peter is looking for him, though,” he went on brightly, “and he told me last night that he has some solid leads, so I am very confident.” He beamed.
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