“What’s going on?” Alicine whispered.
“Someone’s here.” Dayn replied.
They paused and listened. The door could be heard closing, then the voice of a young woman wafted up. Dayn leaned in closer. Other than the words “tenzy” and “fire,” he could make out little else.
He glanced at Alicine. “What’s a tenzy, do you know?”
Alicine shook her head.
A shadow swept the floor beneath them as Nannaven and a woman Dayn had never seen before passed into the kitchen area. The woman was leading Nannaven by the arm, no doubt to offer her some comfort. The women talked softly for a time, little of it decipherable, until at last the stranger departed, leaving Nannaven alone and crying.
“I’m going down,” Dayn said, moving to descend the ladder.
“Maybe we should leave her be,” Alicine said. “It’s her private business.”
Dayn paused on the top rung. “What if it’s about Reiv?” he said.
Alicine nodded. “I’m coming, too.”
When the two of them reached the bottom, Nannaven was sitting at the table, staring across the room. Her red-rimmed eyes barely registered their sudden appearance.
Dayn stepped hesitantly toward her. “Nannaven?”
Her gaze flickered. “Oh, children…did I wake you?” She forced a smile and rose from the bench. “I was about to make a bit of tea.” She hobbled to the nearby counter and fumbled for a crock.
Dayn moved beside her. “Who was that woman that was here just now?” he asked.
Nannaven glanced away. “That was Mya. A friend. She came bearing bad news, I’m afraid.”
“It wasn’t about Reiv, was it?” Alicine asked.
“No…no. It was about someone else. My sister.” Nannaven wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then proceeded to scoop some tea from the crock and into a kettle.
Dayn noticed how badly her hands were shaking. “I’ll make it,” he said. “You sit.” He took the kettle from her and set it on the counter, then escorted her back to the table.
Nannaven sat, while Alicine settled next to her on the bench.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Alicine asked.
Nannaven hesitated, then said, “My sister Tenzy…I recently learned she was imprisoned in the catacombs beneath the temple.” She shook her head. “Such a terrible place. Once it was only for the dead. Now it is where prisoners are kept. I had not seen or heard from her in years. Now I know why.”
“Do you know why she was there?” Alicine asked.
“Yes, I think I know,” Nannaven replied. But she said nothing more.
Dayn hung the kettle over what was left of the fire in the hearth and took his place on the bench by the table. “I heard something about a fire,” he said. “Is that how she died?”
“Yes,” Nannaven replied. “There was a fire in her cell.”
Alicine placed her hand on Nannaven’s. “I’m sorry.”
“It is only through chance that I learned of her,” Nannaven continued. “Mya’s husband, Eben, was recently imprisoned there. You may have heard talk of it, though for your safety I tried to spare you the details. It seems he stumbled across something of value. I know this only because there were witnesses to his arrest. I doubt poor Eben knew what he had found. Unfortunately he did not survive the interrogation. I feel somewhat to blame.”
“How can you blame yourself for that?” Dayn asked.
“It was something he was not meant to find, something I should have made better effort to hide.”
“What was it?” Dayn asked.
“It’s best you don’t know, Dayn,” Nannaven said. “At any rate, Eben found it and died for it. I suspect it had something to do with Tenzy. If it were not for word filtering back from the slaves who put out the fire, I dare say I would never have learned her fate.”
The kettle whistled and Dayn rose to retrieve it. He poured them each a mug, but no one seemed interested in drinking. Nannaven stared into her tea. For a moment Dayn wondered if she was trying to read the leaves, then he asked, “Is my tea that bad?”
Nannaven smiled. “No, dear, it’s perfect.” She rose. “You two need to get some sleep. Take yourselves on up. I’ll be fine.”
Dayn and Alicine glanced at each other, then made their way up the ladder. “Holler if you need anything,” Dayn called over his shoulder.
“Knowing you’re here is enough,” Nannaven said.
After Dayn and Alicine disappeared to the roof, Nannaven turned her eyes toward the arch of stone that bordered the hearth. She could not risk them knowing of the tome Eben had found, nor the book’s twin that was now secured behind those stones. She had hidden it there only hours before, and felt overwhelming guilt that she had not checked its hiding place in the cave sooner. Had she done so, she would have realized the rocks had tumbled away from one of the secret compartments that she, her sister, and her mother had worked so hard to create all those long years ago. Then Eben would never have found it, and his wife and children would still have him in their lives.
Nannaven had been but a girl when she helped copy the words onto the pages of that book. Her mother had been one of the last of the Memory Keepers, a secret society of people whose life’s work had been to document their heritage. It was at great risk, for it was against the law for Jecta to have any written records. Nannaven, her mother, and her sister had lived hidden in that cave for years, copying stories and songs of old onto parchment by candlelight. Their mother wisely insisted there be more than one copy, and so they had made a duplicate. After their mother died at the hands of the king’s guards, Nannaven abandoned all hope of carrying on her work. But Tenzy had other ideas and had left to carry on the secret mission of the Memory Keepers.
Too late to save Eben, Nannaven had recently gone back to the cave. Something had stirred in her memory, compelling her to return--fire and light, words of a song that as a child she had written onto the pages of the tome. But now she realized they were much more than that. They were words in the Prophecy. Was it true prophecy, she wondered, or merely words that had evolved, blurred by time, to become something more?
She replayed the song in her mind, reminding herself that there were too many similarities in recent events to dismiss them. If the words were true, there was more than one person who had a role to play in it. And one of them was sleeping on her roof.
Her thoughts turned to Tenzy. Her sister had been captured, so her books and parchments had probably been confiscated with her, and if they had, what had the Priestess done with them?
Nannaven did not understand the workings of an evil mind, but she did know this: the Prophecy was causing the Temple and the Throne much grief, and no doubt the Priestess wanted to gather as much knowledge as she could about the enemy. But the enemy was not merely the Jecta. Now it included the Prophecy.
Nannaven wondered how long her sister had been confined in the catacombs. Had she been allowed to live only so she could interpret texts for the Priestess? But an even more disturbing question was weighing on Nannaven’s mind: had Tenzy revealed the secrets of the tome that had been confiscated from Eben? Fear that the Priestess now knew the full text of the Prophecy wrenched Nannaven’s insides, but she suppressed the thought. Surely her sister would have died rather than reveal it.
It was then that she realized that was exactly what Tenzy had done—she had died rather than divulge what she knew.
“You did not die in vain, sister,” Nannaven whispered.
She turned from the hearth and hobbled to her bed, but she knew there would be little sleep coming. There were too many stanzas of a song to keep her awake.
* * * *
A pre-dawn knock at Nannaven’s door sent her scrambling from her bed. She opened it with caution, surprised to see the old tavern keeper standing at her threshold. He shoved past her without invitation.
Nannaven faced him with a frown. “Good morning to you, too, Borell. I gather there is some sort of emergency. Another liquor
-poisoned patron littering your floor?”
“I wish that’s all it was,” he said in a disgruntled voice. “It seems a man claimin’ to be a customer roused me from my sleep. He was askin’ questions about one of your guests. Said the prince owed him money. But I know better. I don’t like people snoopin’ around my place asking questions. There’re too many spies lurkin’ about these days. You’d best do something about that prince you’re harborin’ or you’ll bring the wrath of the palace down on all of us!”
“I’m not harboring any prince,” Nannaven said. “I don’t need his kind here.”
The tavern keeper arched a brow. “Is that so. Well, the prince was in my establishment the night before this and was seen leavin’ with that boy Dayn. Don’t bother tellin’ me that one’s not here. I know full well he is.”
“Dayn’s here. It’s no secret. As for Reiv, he left weeks ago.”
“He shoulda stayed gone, then. The guards must be lookin’ for him. He’s gonna be the death of us all if he ain’t found. The man asked if I knew where the prince was workin’, somethin’ about him bein’ a weaver. When I told him I didn’t know about that, he asked if Reiv was a Shell Seeker. Clearly if the man’d been a customer in my tavern, he’d of known.”
“What did you answer him?”
“That the prince is a Shell Seeker, o’course. What else would I ‘ave said?”
Nannaven pulled in a breath to steady her temper. “Well, Reiv’s not here, so what do you want me to do about it?”
“I want you to quit bein’ his rescuer. I don’t care what happens to him, or the other two, but Pobu can’t afford to lose its Spirit Keeper. You’re the only decent healer we’ve got.”
“If you allow the guards to take him, you’ll have no more need for a Spirit Keeper.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“It means the Priestess will have all she needs to destroy the Prophecy and every Jecta with it. Watch your words, Borell, or you’ll be the death of us all.”
The tavern keeper scoffed. “Prophecies! They’re the stuff of dreams, and dreams don’t put food in my mouth!”
“I’ve heard enough from you,” Nannaven said. “Now take yourself out of my house and your foolishness with you.”
The tavern keeper curled his lip, then pointed a finger in her face. “Mark my words, Nannaven. Trouble’s brewin’ and you’re the one lettin’ it steep.” Then he stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.
Nannaven spun and headed for the ladder. She stopped in her tracks when she realized Dayn and Alicine had already descended it.
“How much did you hear?” Nannaven asked.
“All of it,” Dayn replied.
“What are we going to do?” Alicine asked. “When the guards learn Reiv’s a Shell Seeker, they’ll head to Meirla!”
Nannaven eased over to the window and peeked out. “It appears the Palace thinks he’s working as a weaver. I suspect Brina planted that seed. She may have convinced them for a time that Reiv is still in Pobu, but the spy who spoke to the tavern keeper now knows otherwise, as does everyone who saw Reiv the other night. There will be some all too eager to divulge Reiv’s whereabouts for a bit of coin. We must get word to Meirla immediately.”
“I’ll go right now,” Dayn said, moving toward the door. “Just tell me how to get there.”
“No. We’ll all go,” Nannaven said. “Something tells me we should.” She hustled over to the corner and grabbed up a pottery vessel. “Here, Dayn, take this,” she said, thrusting it into his arms. “Head for the well at the edge of town. It’s always a busy place, even this early. Alicine and I will leave together as we always do and head in the other direction. Then we’ll circle around and meet you there.”
She yanked her shawl from the hook and picked up the bag of medicinals she kept by the door. “There’s a chance we’ll be watched, but hopefully the spies will have their attentions elsewhere.”
Dayn stood at silent attention, awaiting her next instruction. Nannaven pushed him toward the door. “Off with you now! There’s no time to dawdle.”
BACK TO ToC
Chapter 13: Seirgotha
Reiv sat cross-legged on the sand, staring at that place where the sea disappears over the edge of the world. He hadn’t slept a wink all night, his thoughts far too troubling, so had slipped out of the hut and taken himself to the beach. He’d been sitting there for hours now, and the sun was just beginning to peek through the gray-pink haze of morning. He hated to see the brightness of it spoil his dark mood. Having to unwrap his cloak of depression would not come easily or willingly.
“Reiv!” Kerrik shouted as he hustled toward him. “What are you doing here? We’ve been looking for you.”
Reiv looked at the exasperated boy now standing next to him, then turned his gaze back to the horizon.
“Didn’t you hear me? What are you doing here?” Kerrik dropped to his knees and studied Reiv’s face.
Reiv sighed, but it seemed to take all his strength to do even that. “Thinking,” he said. “Or trying not to.”
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” Kerrik said. “You know, when I’m sad I try to find something fun to do, to take my mind off it.”
“When are you ever sad?” Reiv asked, convinced the boy never was.
“Oh, lots of times. Everybody gets sad sometimes, don’t they?”
“I suppose.”
“Well, then, let’s think of something fun to do! What would be fun?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Can’t remember? You can’t remember how to have fun?”
“It has been a long time, Kerrik. You would not understand.”
“All right, then. How about we do something I think is fun?”
“And what would that be?”
“In a few days there’ll be a contest for whoever brings in the biggest shell. We have it every year. It’s lots of fun! I’ve never won and I really want to. If we start hunting now, maybe we can find one and put it in a secret place.”
“Would that not be cheating?”
“Well, it’s not like we’ll actually take it out of the water or anything. I mean, I would still have to dive for it during the contest. So it’s kind of like cheating, but not really.”
Reiv shrugged. “Whatever you wish. I do not care.”
Kerrik jumped up. “Let me go tell Jensa where we are so she won’t be worried! Wait here!” He dashed across the beach, seemingly unaware of the twisted foot that should have slowed him down, but never did.
“Yes, I will wait here,” Reiv muttered. “There is no place else to go.”
When Kerrik returned, he had with him Reiv’s belt and pouch, and a knife for prying snails from their shells. “Here,” he said, “put this on.”
“I thought you said we were not going to retrieve the shell from the water,” Reiv said.
“Oh, not the big one, but there’s no sense going in and coming out empty handed.”
They headed down the beach, Kerrik running full speed ahead, Reiv trudging behind. Before long they entered the water in the place closest to the deep reef, an underground range of pockmarked rocks and prickly urchins. There the sea appeared still and black beneath a surface of white-capped waves. The deep reef was where they always had the best luck, but Reiv had never cared for the spot. It was an abysmal place, and the waters there were always thick with snakes. But Reiv raised none of his usual objections on this day, resolved to the fact that Kerrik was in charge of the mission, as usual.
Kerrik bounded into the waves, then twisted around at the waist and called back, “Don’t forget to tell me if you see Seirgotha! Remember, she’s mine.” He grinned and dove beneath the surface, no doubt hoping to meet the monstrous serpent. Reiv had heard the story of the legendary creature, how the warrior who slew her would be granted great knowledge. And Reiv knew Kerrik wanted that knowledge more than any prized shell.
Reiv made his way into the water and pushed out, forcing his arms through
waves that slapped against his face. He reached the boy’s bobbling head and stopped alongside him.
“Seen anything yet?” he asked, trying to sound as if he cared.
“Yes!” Kerrik said. “There’s one far down there. I didn’t spot it until right before I needed a breath. I’m going back for it. Come down and see!” He gathered a gulp of air and dove down, his feet kicking the water high into the air as he pushed his tiny body downward.
Reiv grumbled in acquiescence; then he, too, filled his lungs and dove beneath the surface.
The water near the rocks at the bottom was brown and swirling, like a dust cloud in an otherwise calm blue sky. Reiv did not see Kerrik amongst the whirl of sand—the boy had disappeared into the blur—and he found himself eerily alone, surrounded by silent blue fogginess and barely-visible fish nipping at his toes. It was most unsettling. Surely the boy realized he was not yet a good diver. Couldn’t he have waited a moment longer? Reiv paddled in a circle as he scanned the murkiness. Where had that fool child gone off to?
He forced his body down through the water, his eyes stinging from the salt washing into them, his lungs burning for want of fresh air. It occurred to him to push back up to the surface, to just let the boy seek the stupid shell on his own. But as the strange cloud he had spotted earlier drew near, it became all too apparent that it was not churning sand. It was something else.
It took a moment for his mind to register that that “something” was blood, but when it did, the horror of it sent bile into his throat. Reiv swam downward, kicking with all his might, desperate to find the small boy he had last seen diving toward a prized shell on the reef below. But there was no sign of him.
As Reiv neared the rocks, the water became turbulent. He was hit suddenly in the chest, his breath knocked fully out of him. He pushed upward toward the flickering light of day, fighting both panic and the overwhelming urge to inhale into his now empty lungs.
Cool air slapped his face as he broke through the surface. He rasped for air, treading clumsily as he spewed salt water from his nose and mouth. Darkness was beginning to cover the surface of the water, and there was still no sign of Kerrik. Reiv’s eyes darted to the shoreline. In the distance he could see Torin and Jensa strolling along the sand. Reiv screamed, sputtering unintelligible words, and waved an arm in distress. But he only sank for his efforts and again found himself fighting for air. He bobbed back up, coughing and gagging, and looked toward the shore. They still did not see him, that was clear, but there was no time for delay. Filling his lungs with one last gulp of air, he dove beneath the surface and kicked his way back to the murky depths below.
Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One Page 9