Authors: L. M. Roth
“And Dominio
loves you, Melisande. He would be both your father and your mother, if you
would but let Him love you.”
Kyrene’s voice
shook on her last words, uncertain how Melisande would receive them. The girl
looked at her sharply, and a flash of resentment shot out from her green eyes.
But it was softened almost instantly as she perceived the genuine compassion in
the eyes of the older woman.
“I like you,”
she said softly. “You are not like Cort, who spoke only of my mother’s
wrongdoing and told me that I am evil. You are not like him.”
Kyrene was
appalled that the temperamental young man had not shown this wounded motherless
girl the love of Dominio, but had allowed his personal animosity to color his
view of her and to temper his words with cruelty. Had he forgotten the
injunction of Xenon to remember that their battle was not against flesh and
blood but against the Astra who blinded the souls of mankind? Even as she
thought this, however, she realized that Cort could not see what she saw. She was
a seer, and only a seer could perceive what lay beneath the surface of the face
presented to the world. And Cort had not that gift.
She rose to
her feet, carrying little Gwenaelle in her arms, and put an arm around
Melisande.
Melisande
smiled up at her warmly, and shyly clasped one of Kyrene’s hands in her own.
Then the smile slowly faded, yet she nodded her head.
“I am not sure
of this Dominio of yours, and may never like Him, but I like you.”
It was when
she paid a visit to Niamh that Kyrene was confirmed in her suspicions. It was
only natural to call on her with Maelys, as she had known her during her
previous stay in Eirinia; indeed Niamh had been the first Eirini woman she had
met. Niamh seemed genuinely pleased to see Kyrene, and flung her arms around
her at once. The visit even alleviated her tension with the daughter of Dag
Adalbart as the women exchanged all their news of the past twenty years. But as
they spoke, the truth that Kyrene had searched for was revealed.
Although
Melisande had softened under the unexpected warmth that Kyrene had shown her,
she sensed this girl had depths as yet unknown even to Cort, who trusted her
not at all.
There is much
confusion there, as well as bitterness and sadness, Kyrene mused. And yet, I
also feel a will and a power to do great evil in Fanchon’s daughter. If she
does not turn her feet from the path of wickedness she has chosen, it will soon
be too late to turn at all.
Kyrene found
herself torn in two regarding her decision of what she should do next. She had
traveled to Eirinia mainly to deliver Maelys safely to her family and to
observe first hand the situation in Eirinia; now that she was here she sensed a
stirring of further evil rising beneath the surface. In truth, she feared to
leave the Adalbart family alone until either Dag or Cort returned to them.
Judoc was too immersed in her grieving, and Dirk and Maelys too young and
untried to stand against the forces Kyrene felt about to break the surface.
Yet, to stay
on would mean she would need to leave her pupils in Solone for an extended
time. But the urge to stay was too strong to ignore. What should she do?
She was also
troubled by the reports from Valerium, of the persecution and the continued abuse
of power by Iacomus. Before she left Lycenium Marcus had spoken with her
privately and informed her of the theft of Logos by the man who had killed
Felix and was now Felicia’s father-in-law. That the Sword was stolen at the
order of the new Emperor to deprive the Alexandrians of power was the motive,
he told her, according to Decimus.
She had
recoiled in horror; but her instincts told her that there was more to this
theft, something that Marcus was missing. She did not wish to wound her old
friend, but the thought persisted and she must say it.
“Marcus,” she
began in her soft voice, “why is it that Logos was permitted to be stolen from
you, do you think?”
Marcus turned
pale and stared at Kyrene with unblinking eyes, clearly stunned at her
statement.
“Permitted?”
he repeated in a shrill voice that betrayed his shock.
It was obvious
to her that he couldn’t believe what she had just said.
“Permitted?”
he repeated again. “It was
stolen
from me! There was no permission
asked!”
“Certainly not
by Decimus, I agree,” she said briskly. “Yet Dominio permitted it to be stolen,
and it was taken by the man you hate more than any other in the world. Why is
that, do you think?”
The frown on
Marcus’ face became so deep that it appeared to Kyrene that his eyebrows would
touch his nose. She held her breath and waited for the temper of this son of a
soldier to be loosed on her.
“Logos is my
legacy! I can not believe that Dominio “permitted” it to be stolen from me for
any reason except to teach my son a lesson for treating such a sacred object in
such a cavalier manner. Why, he treated it as a toy for his own amusement!
Surely that is a sin in the eyes of Dominio!”
Kyrene
withstood the barrage of words, and took a deep breath to steady herself but
persisted in her line of questioning.
“Yes, that is
true,” she agreed. “But is it not possible that
you
also sinned and that
is why Dominio permitted the theft?”
“What!” Marcus
erupted.
He suddenly
began pacing nervously and then whirled around to look at Kyrene.
“What do you
mean?” he asked in a voice that reeked of suspicion.
He seemed to
remember suddenly that he was speaking to a seer, and he had best be honest
when dealing with such a one.
“Marcus,” she
said, more gently this time. “I know that you hate Decimus, and with very good
reason. Indeed, I could not stay with Felicia and Antonius at their invitation
because it was Decimus’ estate and I could not forget Felix…”
Here she broke
off abruptly and tears shimmered in her wide hazel eyes. Marcus saw them and
ceased his pacing, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder which she patted
gently before continuing.
“However,” she
continued in a quivering voice, “I have let go of the anger and the bitterness.
It will always be hard to face Decimus, and I am grateful that he is not here.
But have you possibly allowed your own bitterness and anger toward him to
fester in your heart, and Dominio wants you to surrender it?”
Marcus slumped
forward and he put his head in his hands. He did not speak for several minutes
and the stillness of the room seemed deafening to Kyrene. At last he let out a
deep sigh, nodded his head and addressed her.
“You are
right, Kyrene,” he murmured. “It was not long before the theft of Logos that I
actually threatened Decimus. I did not trust him, and indeed, thought at first
that he had initiated the friendship between our sons and put Antonius to spy
on us to report back to him so that he could carry those reports back to
Iacomus. And I warned him that if any harm ever came to my family because of
him that I would kill him and suffer the consequences with Dominio, even if it
damned my soul.”
“Oh, Marcus!
That is why it happened, don’t you see? You threatened another, even though
with what you thought was justifiable cause, and Dominio permitted Logos to be
taken from you in order to get your attention regarding your bitterness and how
it is consuming you.”
She said this
in a gentle voice and rubbed his hand softly, yet he detected the hidden
rebuke. And knew she was right; his own heart had caused him to sin with his
lips, threatening the life of another, and Logos, which must never be used in
violence, had been stolen from him. And by the very man whom he had threatened
with violence.
“Yes, yes, I
see it now,” he replied, feeling that the burning sensation in his chest was
his heart breaking within him. “I must go to Dominio and ask Him to forgive me
and cleanse my heart. Perhaps He will have mercy on me and Logos will be
returned to the Alexandrians if not to me. For it is clear that I must deal
with my own sin before I can be trusted with it again.”
“And I know
you will do what is right,” she assured him. “Dominio’s hand will be seen to
have been in all that has taken place, you will see.”
Marcus merely
stared moodily at the wall opposite and said nothing. But something he had said
about the Emperor’s motive for stealing Logos was nagging at her, and she could
not immediately put a finger on it…
And then she
remembered something that Xenon had told her, which she related to Marcus.
If any
received a word from Logos, yet did not obey it, the result would be as if they
had been stabbed by a two-edged sword. It would pierce them to the heart, and
they would have no peace unless they obeyed it. If they disobeyed it outright
and did exactly the opposite of the instruction of the word, it would result in
their own destruction.
She told
Marcus of this and saw the astonishment her words had produced. But it was her
next words that gave him further cause for alarm.
“It is clear
that the Emperor has no idea of the true power of Logos. It is not a toy to be
used for entertainment as Lucius discovered. And if he treats it as a weapon
against the Alexandrians, I fear it will only be turned back on him, and he
will bring about his own downfall.”
Cort arrived
at last in Valerium. He had taken the sea route from Annick to Potentus, which
saved him time. It also allowed him to pass the guards at the wall. He carried
with him in a pack several wood carvings that he had whittled in his spare
time, in the hope that he might pass himself off as a merchant. The ruse
worked, and he was permitted to enter the city unmolested.
He did not
have even the glimmerings of an idea of where to search for Dag, yet knew he
would have set out for Potentus. With that in mind, Cort made his way to the
city square where the men still congregated for the news of the day on the
morning following his arrival. Here he would be sure to hear anything of
interest or controversy. He could not imagine Dag, that great bear of a man,
entering Potentus unnoticed by someone.
He heard news
of him, however, much more quickly than he anticipated. Nor was it good
tidings.
“There is much
uproar at the Palace today,” said one man, a wealthy aristocrat with a red
bandeau wound around his white hair, and an air like that of a well-fed cat
that suns itself smugly after a good meal.
“What do you
mean? Are you referring to the prisoner who escaped last week? What news of
that, have you any?”
The first man
nodded with narrowed eyes, and an obvious attempt to make the most of his
moment of attention from the others. It was clear to Cort that here was one who
considered himself of great importance, and wished others to remember that.
Another man
chimed in with obvious impatience.
“Well, tell
us, do not keep us in suspense! It is the talk of the city. I wish to know more
of it.”
Other men
around them affirmed this response with the nodding of their heads and the
raising of their voices.
The first man
smiled in satisfaction and at last imparted the news he had been eager to
relate all along.
“Well, there
will be heads rolling at the Palace,” he smirked. “It seems that Justus Lucius
was helped in his escape. They do not yet know who aided him, but one of the
Palace Guards disappeared the day following his escape. The conjecture is that
he helped the prisoner and then took off before the Emperor discovered what he
did.”
“Who! Who was
the Guard? Who would be so bold?”
From all
around the questions came: the aristocrat held up his hand for silence and satisfied
their curiosity.
“It was
Odelius, an old Guard who served the Empress Aurora and her father before her.
He is not one of the Guards who have dealings with the prisoners, but he has
not shown up for duty. His fellow Guard, Iosephus, is certain that it indicates
his guilt.
“But the
Emperor has said that if Odelius is ever found, it will be the death of him for
helping a prisoner to escape the sentence of justice.”
He folded his
arms over his chest and looked around him at the others to gauge their reactions.
Cort noted the fear that each face reflected, and a stifling of it lest it be
visible and their manhood undone. One of them found the courage to put what
they all felt into words.
“But if the
Emperor could imprison Justus Lucius, one of the leading men of the Council for
many years, then he could find some fault with any of us and do the same.”
This sobering
statement was received in silence, but did not fall on deaf ears. It was true;
if a man of Justus’ stature could be held prisoner, then none of them were
safe.
“What was
Lucius imprisoned for? Does any know? I never did hear what the charges were?”
“I can answer
that question,” the aristocrat hastened to answer, lest he lose his status as
tale bearer. “He was found guilty of abetting an Alexandrian. He said the man
was a mere acquaintance, an old friend of his son. But Lucius did not inform
the Emperor that the man was an Alexandrian. It was the man himself who blurted
it out during an interview with the Emperor!”
“Who is the
man?” one of the others inquired curiously.
“I do not know
the man’s name, but he was intercepted crossing the border at the wall and
arrested by the Guards. He came through from that outlandish place to the
north: Eirinia.”
Cort stifled a
gasp at these tidings. Who else could they be referring to but Dag! It was true
that Justus Lucius knew him as a friend of Felix’s. And Justus had been
imprisoned for helping him, and Dag was still in prison.
The question
now was: how could Cort get him out?
He had left
Eirinia before the arrival of Maelys with Kyrene and Lucius, and so was unaware
that Dag had been imprisoned. He had set out with some reluctance, knowing that
Melisande defied him and continued to live in the village, and exerted an evil
influence on Nolwenn. But a talk with Dirk two days before he left reassured
him that his young brother was aware of even more than he knew regarding their
sister, and that he had already taken strong measures against her.
“You must do
what you must do, Cort,” Dirk stated simply. “You promised Father you would
come back for him, and you did. Now you must be the one to go in search of him
while I stay here. It should be me to rescue him; I am his eldest son although
you have always been as one to him and a brother to me and Brand. But you can
not remain here with Melisande or one of you will kill the other. And as I am
an Eirini and you and Father are foreigners, it might yet be possible that the
women of Leith will listen to me when I protest.
“I just need
to find the courage to do it when the occasion arises,” he muttered.
Cort felt
tears sting the back of his eyes. Dirk was right: he was Dag’s eldest son. He
had always been aware of that, but now he knew it. Dirk was going to be exactly
like his father, strong, stalwart, and steady of purpose. No son could have
been more like a father.
And yet, he
knew also that he would always hold a special place in Dag’s heart as a native
of his own land, one who had shared the same awe at seeing the Lights of
Rainbow Hue, who knew the cold of the long, dark winter nights, and rejoiced at
the Long Day when the sun never set, but danced overhead in the rhythm of the
dance of the great Bear. That bond was unbreakable, but it was time for Dirk to
take his rightful place in Dag’s heart; it was time for Cort to take his family
and move on.
With that view
in mind, he decided to take Siv and Brit with him as he set out. He would first
find Dag, and then find his destiny.