“Grandfather, did you know my mother?” I asked after some time, thinking he had forgotten about me.
He walked awhile before he spoke, his voice somewhat softened. “There was one worth the bother.”
Hope leaped. “Do you know where I can find her grave?”
He turned toward a round clearing among the houses, the ground covered in grass, a silver tree in the middle. He strode to the tree, and I followed, then stopped when he halted at a crystal rock that reached to my knees. The rock sparkled in the moonlight, the exact color of the petals of the moonflower that grew in our Shahala hills.
I could scarcely breathe.
I fell to my knees and hugged that rock, not sure if I could ever let go.
Mother. I am here.
Some time passed before my tears dried. I blinked a few times. Sniffed. “Did she have the Last Blessing?”
The Guardian looked at me as if I was a senseless child. “She certainly did.”
A small, empty corner of my heart filled with peace.
I sat back on my heels and noticed a faint inscription on the rock.
Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave.
I ran my fingers over the letters. Strong and brave were Kadar values.
“It should say
Spirit, be kind. Heart, be true
,” I whispered.
That
had been my mother.
But the Guardian shook his head. “Her last words they were.”
I looked at the inscription for some time, trying to make sense of it. Maybe she had so encouraged herself at the end because she knew she was dying.
“Did you meet her when she healed the High Lord Barmorid?”
The Guardian lowered himself next to me, his joints creaking. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. “I first met her long before that. When she injured him.”
“Had she come to Karamur twice?” I only remembered the one journey.
He drew a labored breath, as if preparing for the effort of speaking. “When your mother, Chalee, first came into her healing powers, they were so extraordinary that her fame spread far and wide on the island.”
This I knew. I waited for more in the silence. The streets slept, no other human being in sight but the two of us. Unlike Karamur, the Forgotten City had no night guard.
“Barmorid, a young warrior still,” the Guardian continued, “had suffered a grave injury in battle, and when your grandfather heard, he came to help, bringing Chalee with him. Your people and the Kadar were closer back then, the old favors each had done the other not so well forgotten.”
I knew how the Kadar kept us safe and how without them we could not have our precious peace to hone our healing skills generation after generation. My mother had reminded me of that often enough, so I sought to head off the lecture I felt coming. “Did my mother give back Barmorid his health?”
“She did.” The Guardian nodded. “But took something a lot more precious.”
“My mother would never take something not freely given and refused payment half the time,” I retorted, quick to defend her.
“Given or not, she took a piece of the High Lord’s heart when she left. And something else.”
“Barmorid fell in love with her?” I had never known of any man in my mother’s life but Jarim.
The Guardian nodded again. “And she with him.”
“What else did she take?” I asked, still stunned by the first revelation.
“Can you not guess?”
I could, from the way he looked at me now, but so shocked was I, I could not speak for some time.
“Why did Barmorid never claim me?” I asked finally, when I could form coherent thoughts once again. I was half Kadar? Oh, it could not be. It simply could not!
“He never knew. No matter how much I tried to convince her, Chalee would not hear of telling him. She wanted to return to her people, even if in disgrace, preferring that to the prison of the High Lord’s Pleasure Hall, for she knew he would never let her leave.”
I stared, but not without some understanding. I had run away from Pleasure Hall’s gilded prison even with my last breath.
The Guardian said, “Your grandfather knew, of course. A great healer like he could feel the new life within her. Perhaps that is what killed him so suddenly—a broken heart. He knew the rest, you realize, the things
to come
.”
He fell silent for a long time before speaking again, his voice tired and faint, so I could barely make out his words. “Destinies are made to be fulfilled. Some roads may seem to lead in other directions, but at the end, they all loop back to where they must.”
My whole world had changed in the space of a few heartbeats. I had no patience for a philosophical discussion. “What happened after that?”
“Your mother returned alone to your Shahala shore, but someone waited for her.”
“Jarim?”
The Guardian nodded.
“He fell in love with her too?”
“Not at first, not for a long time, although your mother tried. I asked the Seer to search her out from time to time and tell me how she fared. I had grown rather attached to her, I suppose, never having a daughter of my own, only the one son.”
“Did she forget Barmorid so soon?” I disliked the idea of my mother having a fickle heart.
“Not until her dying day.”
“Then why did she become lalka to Jarim?”
The Guardian looked at me, and I saw the depth of the sadness in his eyes for the first time. “I will tell you if you wish, but it will be a hard tale to hear.”
“No tale of my mother could be so hard that I would not wish to hear it.”
He nodded. “The Kerghi are not our only enemy, nor are they the worst,” he began. “A bigger power stands behind them and pushes them forward. The Emperor Drakhar…” His face darkened as he uttered the words. “He has been coming a long time, and before he ever started on his cursed path, he was watching. He knows the prophecies as well as you or I.”
Maybe better than I, for I could think of no prophecy that could have anything to do with this.
“The Emperor knew about you,” the Guardian went on, “long before you were born, and so he sent Jarim to kill you.”
I inched closer to the rock crystal. All I had known as truth, my entire childhood, fell away. My father was the High Lord of the warrior race I despised, the man who raised me a hired murderer.
“Your mother knew the prophecies, of course, but still she would not stay here where Barmorid could have protected her and you, no matter how your grandfather and I scolded her.” The old anger and worry still rang in his voice as he spoke.
“She returned to her home alone, with child, determined to birth you in freedom, willing to face the world for it. She hoped, I think, to change your destiny. She was very young still.”
He waved the old regret away with a listless gesture, then continued his story. “She had more than enough knowledge of herbs to poison Jarim, but she could not bring herself to do it, not even to save your life.”
“How did she change Jarim’s mind?” For I knew she must have managed that feat somehow, as I was still alive.
“Each day while he was waiting for you to be born, she fought with love every bit of hatred he had, until he came to care for her. Still, though, he planned to kill you when you were born, but not her, never harm her. He planned to make new babes with her to console her once his dark charge was finished.”
“But her power of good was the stronger,” I half said, half asked.
The Guardian looked straight ahead without seeing me. “Every time a man and a woman come together, not only their bodies join but so do their spirits. And every time your mother’s spirit joined with Jarim’s, she left a little bit of her goodness behind. Little by little, she changed the man.”
“At the cost of her own spirit?” At once I understood why she had been too weak to withstand the strain of healing Barmorid for the second time.
I cried at the thought and told the Guardian how I wished my mother had not sacrificed so much for me. I did not feel worthy of such a gift.
“Your mother followed the path of her own choosing to the end, always doing what she thought right, even at the cost of her own life, even when it was forbidden.”
The Guardian sighed. “When she came back to Karamur for the second time, the High Lord was ill with fever, the kind that settles deep into the blood. She had given away so much of her spirit to Jarim by then that she did not have enough power to heal Barmorid, not even with all the love in her heart. She gave her spirit to him to strengthen his so he could win the fight on his own.”
I wept openly.
The Guardian stood. “The rest is in the Sacred Scrolls. You will see those soon enough. Now, let this old man go. I performed this first task; as little as I wished it, for do not think the thought of her does not pain me still. One more task awaits the Guardian of the Scrolls, and I hope I shall be dead by the time it is called for, and you will be served by my son, for he is more ready than I.”
I hugged the rock one more time before I pushed to my feet and turned to the Guardian. “I thank you for what you told me. But forgive me, I cannot wish for your death, not even to bring you the relief you seek.”
He nodded, weariness drawing his face into a thousand wrinkles. His shoulders sloped as if crushed by a great weight.
“Do not think of death as a sad end for me, child. I have lived a long life. I have seen winds of change and each new wind bring a worse fate for the world than the one before. I have seen men fight against evil, and time and time again lose their battle. I fought too in my own way, and I am now too tired to carry on the fight. If I found any favor with the spirits, I ask only this: that I be taken before this war comes and brings true darkness with it.”
I had many questions but sensed that this was not the time to ask more.
We walked back toward the cave in silence, each deep in our own thoughts. The night itself quieted around us; even the wind stopped whistling. Confusion, sadness, and anger filled me. My mind a jumble of emotions.
Until now, even in the uncertainty of my fate, at least I knew who I was. To balance the twisting unknown paths of my future, stood solidly my past. And now I had lost even that.
We passed a round hut I had not noticed before. It had no windows at all. Grain storage?
The Guardian caught my gaze. “Selaila’s hut. She is our Seer.”
I wanted to ask more, but his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. As we left the Seer’s hut behind us, my thoughts returned to our earlier talk. Plenty there to ponder for a hundred days.
My mother had as many secrets as a stranger. Everything I thought I knew of my beginnings was false. And still some mysterious destiny awaited me, one the Guardian of the Scrolls had only hinted at. Maybe the other Guardians would tell me the rest.
I looked up toward the cave and saw one of them approach in a rush. He waved at us to hurry.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(The Road to Freedom)
“The Guardian of the Gate had to leave. I shall walk you back to the cliff. You must take care not to slip,” the Guardian of the Cave said, breathing hard from the rush down the slope.
“Must I leave?” I felt as if I had fallen into a beautiful dream at last after many hard and dark days. The call to waken came too soon. I wanted to see more, learn more. I wanted the tranquil peace of the Forgotten City that at its heart held my mother’s grave.
“You must.” He turned onto the path that led to the top off the cliffs above Karamur. “But every time the mist descends, you may come to us to learn more.”
He gestured with his hand, and I hurried after him.
When the mist descends?
I had been in Karamur already for the full double cycle of the moons, and I had seen the mist but once before this.
“We shall call the mist for you. Do not worry,” said the Guardian of the Cave as if reading my mind.
Such wonder stood so far beyond my comprehension I could not even question it. “What will I tell them about where I have been? The servants must have noticed my absence by now; the guards must have been alerted.”
I glanced back. The Guardian of the Scrolls had not followed us but began his slow, limping climb up to the cave. He stopped to look at me. I bowed deep. He dipped his head in a small nod of farewell before turning back to his path.
I rushed after the Guardian of the Cave.
“You must make excuses for your absence. The palace is large. A foreigner such as you could easily wander off and become lost. And for next time…” He pulled a handful of thin sticks from his robe and waved them in front of my nose.
I ran my finger along a pungent stick the length of my forearm. “What are these?”
“Place one in a tankard in your room and light the end with a candle. Anyone who enters will fall asleep and stay so until the stick is doused and fresh air wakes them from their dreams. Once you light it, cover your face and leave the room,” he added.
I pulled my hand back. “Is it sorcery?”
He flashed me an impatient look. “A harmless herb.” He gave a name I never heard and could not pronounce. “The smoke will not harm anyone,” he promised. “Our people, the Seela, use the sleeping sticks to allow rest to those in great pain.”
I tucked the small bundle inside my tunic as we reached the top of the cliff. Below, I could barely see Karamur, still steeped in thick mist.
“Thank you, Grandfather.” I bowed, then handed him the fur I had borrowed from the cave. I missed its warmth, but I could not hang on to it while climbing. “I hope I shall see you soon.”
He smiled at me fondly. “One more word before you leave. Did your mother teach you the use of your powers?”
Sadness crept into my heart. “She died before they came to me.”
He nodded as if he had expected my answer. “You must be more careful with them, Tera. Your healing spirit is sacred but not without an end. You must use your skills and your herbs, but your spirit only as last resort, only if you must, and even then…” His expression turned somber. “You cannot help anyone if you give your spirit away and give your body unto death.”
His blunt words made me think of my mother’s fate. He spoke the truth. I could not give argument.