Ten Crescent Moons (Moonquest) (12 page)

"The
captain must learn for himself how lonely it can be in the frontier, where
there are so few available women of the Crescent Houses."

And those
were his parting words.

In the
quarter season that followed, Adalginza followed that advice. But events
happened in an ordinary way, and not through any contrivance of hers.

While Kalos
went about the business of securing the defenses of Sola Re, she offered and
Zartos enthusiastically accepted her invitation to keep the sturmons in her
stables groomed and exercised.

During these
frequent visits, Lady Redolo often accompanied the boy.

In her blunt
way, she declared that she found Adalginza fascinating. And being the scholar
that she was, Lady Redolo wanted to know every detail about the young woman's
unconventional life in the frontier.

Redolo used
her quill pen and parchment to take copious notes during these sessions, at the
same time that Zartos indulged his fascination with the sturmons.

To deflect
this seemingly insatiable curiosity and keep her true identity safe, Adalginza soon
learned to direct the conversations she had with Lady Redolo to the many true stories
she was able to relate about the life of the gnostic, Medosa.

As always,
Bruna hovered in the background like a dark storm cloud. And Adalginza always made
sure it was she, not Bruna, who prepared and served the refreshments.

"A
gnostic is a mystic and symbol of awe among all the other Crescent Houses."
Redolo explained this while they were sipping tea in Adalginza's courtyard. "That
a holy man would choose to devote his life to teaching savages is a curiosity.
The writings I will create about him will be widely circulated."

"Will
it bring you prestige?" Adalginza asked.

Redolo
frowned, considering the question.

"This I
do not know. The citizens of the Crescent Houses might abhor Medosa's love for
the savages, and his devotion to their ways. The manuscript, in fact, may be
rejected for publication. Even if circulated, it may be censured by the Councils
of the Crescent Houses. But, above all, it will generate controversy. And
thought."

Adalginza
felt the stirrings of deep resentment as she considered the attitudes she
frequently encountered from settlers newly arrived from the Prime Continent.

"The
people of the Crescent Houses do not wish to see savages as fully human.
Otherwise, what is happening here in the frontier might be viewed as
exploitation."

"You
are right." Lady Redolo appeared thoughtful. "The citizens of the
Crescent Houses might view these writings about Medosa's philosophies as a
personal attack against them and their policies. Well. This cannot be helped. Even
if I cannot have prestige, then perhaps I will settle for notoriety."

"The
notorious Lady Redolo," Adalginza teased gently. "I, too, like the
sound of this."

"Then
know, too, that I must go to the Place of the Circles with you. I must see
where Medosa once dwelled among the savages. You must help me convince Kalos."

Insistent as
Lady Redolo was in her efforts to be included in the plans Adalginza and Kalos
had made for the journey, she ultimately was overruled.

Kalos declared
that safety was too much of an issue. Over their bitter protests, Redolo and
Zartos were left behind in Sola Re when the expedition at last embarked in late
summer.

***

On the
eleventh morn after their departure, Kalos flicked the reins he held. He was
urging the team of four harnessed sturmons to pull the wagon faster to catch up
with the mounted knights ahead of them.

The wooden
seat Adalginza occupied as his passenger jostled her shoulder-to-shoulder with the
captain, who she politely ignored.

Knowing they
would be together without his mother as chaperone, she also had dressed not in
the usual revealing skirt and sash — but in modest leather leggings and a woven
tunic knotted around her middle.

It wasn't an
act or a ploy. She genuinely needed this time to herself to brood, for the
journey home had stirred far too many sad, uncomfortable feelings.

In fact, as
they approached a familiar bend in the well-worn trail ahead, she became almost
paralyzed with nostalgia and unbearable grief.

The
sturmons' magnificent muscles bulged and their heads bobbed with the strain of heaving
the heavy supply wagon up and around the steep crest of a sandy hill.

On the other
side, the hill's slopes were splashed with vivid yellow, desert flowers that
emitted a honeyed scent.

As anticipated,
Adalginza soon spied the chiseled marble statue depicting an elongated bird
with a feathered crest atop its head. It was frozen in a pose of alertness, one
leg bent up as though prepared to dash away to safety.

The statue
towered, even above the height of the tallest man among the knights. A shaft of
sunlight gave the illusion of fire crackling from eyes made of translucent,
orange crystal found in abundance near the Place of the Circles.

Adalginza
was well acquainted with the artist.

Her "mother,"
Lady Donzala, may have been mad. But the outlet for her delusions often was
creative obsession, which would cast a spell over the wild-eyed woman sometimes
for many passings of the sun.

This was Lady
Donzala's own carefully crafted replica of the brown speckled tuala bird that
had been a familiar sight at this remote settlement until its death from old
age. The bird, Kali, had been immortalized forever in the figurine that was far
larger than its actual size.

The swift,
ground running bird had been Adalginza's childhood pet. She had been closely mindlinked
with Kali, along with several others of the wild animals that once roamed free
near their abode.

She deeply
missed that old life.

A discreet
tear slid down Adalginza's cheek, and she turned her head to the side so that
Kalos could not see.

As the caravan
passed by the statue, all helmeted heads among the leading escort of about a
dozen mounted Crescent knights turned and gazed in awe at this strange apparition.

Kalos, too,
stared long at Lady Donzala's creation as the wagon brought up the rear of the dusty
entourage.

"Your
mother's work?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It
speaks of strong emotion."

"Yes."

A silence
passed for several moments while Kalos waited futilely for elaboration.

"You
have had few words for me since we first met. Do you have something against
good conversation? Or is it just me you no longer have use for?"

"It is
not you." Adalginza paused, struggling to find proper words of
explanation. "I have been taking refuge within the solitude of my
thoughts. There are far too many painful memories attached to this journey."

"And what
about before our journey began?"

Adalginza
fell silent again.

"You
are a complex woman. Did you know that?"

She remained
quiet.

She
certainly could not say the truth — that she had retreated to a dark place of
despair after meeting with Benfaaro on the night of Welcoming. And now she saw
herself as far more toxic to the captain and his family than even one of
Bruna's potions.

Kalos pointed
to the small, rounded dome made of now crumbling sticks and mud that made a
curious landmark.

"My
mother would find much to explore here. This must have been the dwelling of
Medosa."

"It
was." Adalginza raised an eyebrow at him. "How could you know this?"

"Gnostics
always live in dome-shaped dwellings. They consider it a means of gathering
unseen energy, focused through the top and then spread in equal balance to the
inhabitant. Magic reserved only for one with the ranking of gnostic, of course."

"Your
tone says you are a skeptic."

Zartos idly
dropped his hands holding the guiding reins to gently slap the rumps of the team
of sturmons, urging them into a still faster pace.

"Let us
just say that I am less of a believer in spiritual happenings than some. I
require evidence that I can hold in my hands. Evidence that I can hear, see,
and smell."

"Perhaps
this is why the story of the House of the Seventh Crescent Moon disturbs you so
much?"

"It does
intrigue." Kalos gave her a crooked grin. "All right, then. Yes. It also
maddens me greatly. I don't like the idea of supernatural events that appear to
defy all known physical laws. Gravity, for one. How can an entire group of
people be lifted into the sky, seemingly by nothing?"

"So you
do not wish to find evidence that the myth is true?"

"Of
course there is truth to it. But in the telling, especially through the
centuries, a story can be twisted in many different ways. Take my mother, for
example. By the time she is through writing about your Medosa, he will be the
stuff of legends."

"But
she will write the truth, won't she?"

"The
truth as she sees it. And others will see it differently. Trust me on this. He
will become a god. Or a demon. Or both. It depends on which faction on the
Prime Continent takes up his name as a symbol for whatever cause they happen to
be promoting."

"He had
greatness in him." Adalginza surprised even herself at the quaver in her
voice. "And he was very kind."

"You
are the one who knew him." Kalos reached out, cupping one hand over hers momentarily.
"Only you alone know the truth about Medosa."

"Or my
version of it, as you would be the first to point out."

"But a
truth that you experienced firsthand, not merely in the theories that we in my
clan are so fond of expounding."

He paused, and
she tried to pretend she was unaware that he was searching her face.

"I am
sorry for all that you have lost," he said. "This journey must be very
hard for you."

"More
so than I ever imagined it could be."

Here was the
familiar hill, the one that was scattered with the broomstick plants topped
with sweet red bristleberries. When processed such that their thorns were
removed, these fruits often were stuffed into the homemade pastries that Lady
Donzala had been so fond of baking.

Adalginza recalled
the sweet aromas from the brick oven of her mother's mud brick home, now in
full view as the road rounded a hill.

The abode
with its surrounding rock walls filled Adalginza with such pain that she now
felt as though her heart was being pierced by the swords of an entire army of
Crescent knights.

Kalos saw
something in her face, and pulled back on the reins of the sturmons, halting
them even as the vanguard of mounted knights and sturmons continued onward.

"Are
you ill? Do you need to step down?"

"No."
Her voice was barely audible. "Just give me a moment."

One of the
knights in the leading vanguard turned back, and now galloped up to the wagon.

She saw that
it was Luzicos astride a lean black sturmon. It snorted twice in a fit of
temper seeming to match the expression of his rider, before Luzicos yanked the steed
to a halt.

"You
must stay within range of our protection." Then he paused. "What is
wrong with the lady?"

Adalginza
felt great shame that her distress was being witnessed not only by Kalos, but
by the loyal assistant who she had learned by now suffered no fools.

Luzicos'
frank opinion regarding the wisdom of bringing such a small force of Crescent
knights into the very heart of danger had been expressed more than once along
the trail.

Adalginza
also suspected that his surliness could be traced to the fact he had not been
informed of the purpose of their mission here, other than some vague reference
to scouting the terrain.

"I had
a moment of faintness," Adalginza replied vaguely.

Luzicos look
of contempt deepened.

He turned to
Kalos. "We have only the word of this lady that most of the savages who
dwell here are at the Festival of Blood. Even if they are in the next province,
others among them might still be in the vicinity."

"My
word is good." Adalginza found strength from her irritation at being
questioned so harshly. "The Festival of Blood is several days' journey
from here. Everyone goes. Even the elderly and those in fragile health are
taken by wagon."

"And
what assurance do we have of that?"

Luzicos
chose to address Kalos directly, and ignore her.

He was,
after all, a member of the House of the Fifth Crescent Moon — where women
should be seen, but their opinions kept to themselves.

"Mine,"
Adalginza insisted. "We are in my homeland now, sir. I know the habits of
the savages who live here as well as I know my own."