Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen (32 page)

"I never knew such creatures existed."

"Nor did I until I saw your mind today."

Quade puzzled. "But here in P'cadia… there were fairies. Fairies that brought me here, to you. They were not so unlike the ones we've seen in our books of myth-ridden history, not so unlike the ones I'd seen in my dreams."

"P'cadia is a manifestation of all we know from what we've learned, Quade. I can conjure at will anything you might wish to see by what our imaginations have made it into. You saw the fairies as you would see them. Perhaps you would choose to see a Greshier beast?"

"No! No… that's quite all right. No proof is required of your conjuring powers, Avè." Quade ran his hand over the spot where the Shrine of Animus and its crystal conduit were nestled inside his jacket. The Avè stood, turned and waved for Quade to follow. As they walked their surroundings changed from the standing stones from where they'd been into a labyrinth of narrow corridors lit by flaming stakes that were mounted in iron scones along the walls, and finally opened into a very large and comfortably furnished room.

"For now Quade, rest. You need your strength and you need to take care of yourself, so that you might later take care of others. Eat and drink your fill of all that I've to offer, and then doze as you might. I'll see that you're properly attended to."

"I've a problem, Avè, with resting while I don't even know where Clea is, or my other missing Chosen. Or how I will ever find them, for that matter."

"Many things are now a mystery, Quade. But I've a feeling that events you set in motion
 
will bring your Chosen to you."

The Avè turned and walked away, disappearing after a few steps and Quade paused to look around. He was in a bedchamber, quiet, dimly lit, with ornate and beautiful furniture all around. Priceless, exquisite tapestries adorned the tables and chairs, across the floor, thick brocade curtains covered what Quade assumed to be windows. The ceiling was draped loosely with more tapestries and gold and black tassels, and the sweet scent of incense lightly perfumed the air. The bed was within an alcove and within the wall that enclosed it was a tiny waterfall, its trickling water creating a soothing background noise to sleep beside. Painted sheer silk curtains surrounded the bed, which was richly piled with large, fluffy pillows, a thick, downy comforter, the coverlet weaved from hairfeather, a thread that was rare and widely known as being the softest fiber in the galaxy.

Quade sank into a settee sofa, leaned back into the cradling softness and put his feet up on the tasseled hassock in front of him. Suddenly a light voice sounded from behind.

"You are of Bethel, Quade… are you not?"

He looked up, startled, to see a young girl, surely not yet into her teens standing behind the end of the sofa.
 

"Yes," he answered.

"Feast well, then," she replied, and from behind her she motioned with her hand and a burnished gold serving cart rolled toward him, stopped in front of where Quade sat. The large cart was strewn with fresh cut flowers and ivy, and a candelabra sat at the top. With a snap of her fingers, the young girl lit all six candles. The tray was filled with heaping plates of food, assorted breads and rich, buttery crackers, complete with creamy spreads and dipping sauces, tender cheeses and ripe melon and peaches, piquant smelling nutted rice and lentil pilaf, stewed pears and apple sauces and baked vegetable and yam hash. A brewing kettle of sweet comfrey tea hung suspended over a tiny flame, its steam whistling gently as the calming perfume of its leaves wafted over the cart. It was a feast to behold, and Quade didn't even know where to begin.

"Thank you," he said, reaching for a braided loaf of bread, breaking off a piece and dipping it into the hashed yams. "I didn't even realize I was hungry until just now."

"Is there anything else that you require?"

"Surely, no. This is already more than I require." He studied the girl for a moment. "You seem real enough. Will you join me to dine?"

She giggled shortly in response. "Real enough I am, indeed, Quade Decairus. Thank you, but no. I shall however, hear if you call for anything you may need." The girl turned to leave, her dark, floor length cloak dragging behind her, her blonde hair in a long braid, twisted elaborately with glittering ribbon. Quade ate until he could eat no more, then climbed onto the bed. He relaxed; perhaps just a short nap would be an allowable luxury. The softness of the bed beneath him, the effect of the meal, the dimming light in the room all worked together to persuade his eyes shut and before he knew it he had succumbed to the lure of sleep.

CHAPTER 23

"A
azrio, isn't my father coming to dinner?" Trina stared over her goblet of peach juice, let a frozen slice of the fruit that was floating near the top slip into her mouth. "The soup's getting cold. I know he likes his soup to be blazing hot, especially when we have fresh najah bread. It's his favorite." Aazrio stopped in the hallway outside of the dining room, leaned in to briefly examine the table from a distance. "Did this loaf come from baker Latouri? He always makes such wonderful breads."

"Yes Kitrina he was here this evening, just before you came in from the stables. The bread was still hot when he dropped it off."

"Come join me, Aazrio." Trina drew her knee up to her chest and pulled a hunk of the warm, yeasty loaf and dunked it in her bowl. The guard glanced down the hallway dutifully before he entered the dining room where Trina sat in a chair next to the head of the table where Aushlin should have been sitting, but wasn't. "It's so good because he puts beer in the dough. It's his own brew too. He makes it himself then adds it right in the mix." She sucked the broth of the soup from the saturated bread then devoured what remained. Tearing off a smaller, more bite sized piece, she repeated the dipping ritual and offered it to the guard.
 

"Here," she said, leaning over to him, "try it."

Aazrio took the offering, letting the combined flavors of bread and soup mingle on his palate, picking out and identifying each separate spice and herb. "The water he uses for his brew is from the White Springs of the North." Aazrio took a chair next to Trina, watching her as she ate. "That is the taste you find so appealing in his bread."

"So that's what it is? He was always quite guarded with his recipe, even when Clea begged him for it, back when she thought she'd try her hand at baking. That's funny." Trina smiled, tore off another piece of bread. "An ingredient within an ingredient! Even the best kept secrets aren't safe from your expert palate are they Aazrio?"

"And how do you know so much about this baker's secrets Daughter Keystone? His bakery is down in the Marketplace. He opens only on Seventh Day."
 

Trina looked back to her bowl again, then to her father's, ignoring Aazrio's question. "Perhaps father has lost track of the time. I suppose I'm going to have to go get him myself."

As she moved to get up from her chair, the guard reached for her wrist. "Your father has requested to be in seclusion, Kitrina. He asked that no one disturb him until tomorrow night."

"Seclusion! What's that?" Trina started to stand indignantly. "Whatever would he require seclusion for? Is he feeling ill?"

"Not that he mentioned, Kitrina, but he was quite specific. No interruptions. After Quade came to tell him he was ill this morning, the Keystone got quite involved in his current project."

"Quade saw my father this morning?"

"Yes." The guard raised a quizzical brow. "He told your father he wasn't sure that he could ride at Twilight Bloom. Did he not mention this to you?"

"No… I mean yes, he's riding. But he didn't mention…" Trina's voice trailed off as she sat back down. She cleared her throat then, reached for another piece of bread. "What project is father working on? Something special for the Twilight Bloom?"

"I couldn't say Kitrina. It is not my place to question."

"Well, the horses are finished at least." Trina smiled but her mind was beginning to wander. "After my little triumph this afternoon in the Shon-Kiiel I felt quite inspired, and finished Dashus and Shadduk in no time at all."

"I shall be eager to see what you've created this year, Trina. But I will wait until morning. No doubt Jiri has settled the stables for the evening?'

"Actually no, I did it myself. Jiri wasn't around anywhere when I finished."

He wasn't?"

"No but I'm sure he just was busy with something else." Trina moved away from the topic, for she knew that sometimes Jiri would slip away at dusk to a secluded place to gaze up at the stars, that he oftentimes stowed his telescope in an unused stall in the stables for moments when the view of a certain constellation would come into view. She didn't wish a reprimand for him from the guard. "It's been a busy day for all today and tomorrow will be the same." She stood, taking her goblet from the table. "I have some things to finish up but I'll call it an early night, Aazrio. If you happen to see my father, wish him pleasant dreams."

The guard didn't respond, nor did he watch her walk from the room as he was thinking to himself; thinking more of the same thoughts he'd been mulling over the whole of the day.

And when the serving maiden came to clear the table he asked her for a cup of mulled wine. Aazrio thought that perhaps its warmth might provide him with the focus that he needed to bring him some answers, and if not then at least the taste would give him something to decipher that he could understand.

CHAPTER 24

T
he munitions confine of the mining freighter Toil's Quarry thrummed with the pulsing of her massive engines, surged like the sound of blood rushing through one's ears during a good stretch. Deep within the belly of the Utility Class vessel, the ship's elaborate refining assemblage was in the midst of processing that days' haul of rocks, pulverizing it down into a more transportable gravel. But none of this mattered much to Shylo Ludas. He pulled a power cell from its housing in the intricately laid grappling array and dropped it in the pocket of his coveralls, replacing it with a different power cell, one of his own special design. He tested the replacement with his portable gauge, and it read fully charged. But Shylo knew otherwise. Eleven down, one more to go. He repeated this process once more and looked at his wrist cron. Three minutes to spare. Pulling up the top half of his uniform, he shoved his arms into their sleeves, then zipped up front of the burnt orange garment. Dastardly color. Shylo walked to the exit rotator of the munitions confine, keyed in his security lock clearance and stepped into the anteroom, where he keyed in yet another password. The double doors slid open and he turned to see the red light of the lock flash back on behind him, then he made his way across the production assembly room.

"General upkeep duties checked out and completed crewman Drystan?" Shylo responded to his assumed name, smiled broadly at his supervising officer as though he were quite self-pleased.

"Yes sir. Everything in fine working order. I even ran a check on the launch cables, which were all in good condition. We should keep an eye on number fourteen though… I saw a few baseline cracks that will eventually spread." Actually, Shylo was quite self-pleased, but surely not for making sure that the launching stabilizers were securely positioned and the grappling gears were adequately lubricated. His upkeep duties had taken all of twenty minutes of the allotted time of one hour he'd had in which to finish them. No, Shylo was more pleased that he'd managed to replace a dozen power packs, remove all twenty-two launch casters, and successfully overridden the propulsion sequence and changed it to a bogus code.
 

His supervisor reached out a hand to thump his back.

"Good job, Drystan. You'll be out of maintenance level duties soon enough."

"Thank you, sir. Off to the engine room now, if you'll excuse me."

The supervisor nodded his head and turned back to whatever it was that he was doing. Shylo didn't really care. He had other things on his mind. Once in the deserted corridor that led toward the engine room, Shylo whispered a name.