Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (12 page)

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

R
eiv 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.