Drogoya: Book 3 Circles of Light series, page 19
‘Lyeto came to see me. He has heard voices singing. Have any of you?’
Soosha and Sarryen looked puzzled and shook their heads, but Arryol frowned. Finn waited.
‘Well I thought it was just when I am very tired – my imagination playing tricks.’ He looked at the other three warily.
‘Would you let us into your mind so we might hear it?’ Finn asked quietly.
Arryol shrugged. ‘If you think it important.’
‘Oh I do Arryol. I think it is very important.’
A few moments later, Arryol shifted uneasily in his chair, the astonished expressions on the faces of Sarryen and the Offering quite unnerving him.
‘It is the same as Lyeto hears. He said he first heard it when you worked on the boy he brought in with Teal. He hears it now each time he brings in people from the outside. He feared it was a form of madness.’
Soosha chuckled at Finn’s words.
‘No madness,’ he said. ‘The most marvellous of signs.’
Three faces turned to the Observer.
‘It is a sign that we are not abandoned, that we may yet find help from a long forgotten source.’
Krolik, Cho Petak’s chosen Master of Aspirants, was now Cho’s menial. It was Krolik who cooked the light, easily digestible meals that were all Cho’s body could accept. He brought the same meals to Mena but with the addition of bread, cheese and fruits. Krolik no longer possessed a mind fully his own and moved only on Cho’s orders.
Cho visited Mena twice each day. Sometimes he simply sat watching her; occasionally, he spoke or asked questions of Sapphrea. Mena had told him that, as only a worthless female child, she knew nothing of the government of Return and very little of the surrounding countryside.
This morning, Cho came silently to Mena’s rooms and stood by the table looking down on the drawing she was copying from a large book propped up in front of her.
‘That is a fair copy,’ he remarked. ‘But why do you choose to draw a Plavat?’
Mena’s expression was innocent when she turned her face up to his. ‘Is that its name?’ she asked him. ‘It is very hard to tell how big to make these things.’
She pushed some other drawings towards the Sacrifice. He picked them up, smiling faintly. She had drawn an owl as large as the tree beside which it stood, a cow was the size of a rabbit against the square block of a house. Cho increasingly thought it unlikely that Mena could in fact read: these simple drawings proved that she had not read the descriptions of the various creatures.
‘A Plavat is a great sea bird, as large as the Dragons of your land,’ he told the child in an avuncular fashion.
‘Do people ride on them?’ Her violet eyes seemed huge against the silver scaling.
Cho’s smile broadened. ‘Oh no. They are foul tempered birds. See this hooked bill? They use it to tear flesh.’
Mena shivered involuntarily. ‘But what is the sea?’
Cho’s smile vanished and he studied the child carefully. ‘You came over the sea on the back of a Dragon child. The sea is an immense body of water.’
Mena shook her head in apology. ‘I remember little except making the Dragon do what I wanted it to.’ She frowned. ‘I think perhaps there was a lot of water.’
Cho stood silently watching her, then his faint smile returned. He inclined his head.
‘I will visit again at dusk. Perhaps you will have more drawings to show me.’
He moved to one of the bookshelves and opened a drawer. He rummaged among its contents then opened another. Cho brought out a box and walked slowly back to Mena.
‘There are coloured inks if you wish.’
Mena opened the box, exclaiming at the rows of tiny pots arranged inside, and the pens and brushes held in its lid. Cho Petak nodded benignly and went to the door.
‘Sir?’
He paused.
‘May I go outside?’
Cho frowned again. Mena forced herself to keep utterly still while Cho Petak considered her request. Finally he nodded.
‘There are three secluded gardens that you may use. Krolik – the creature who serves you – will show you where they are.’
The fire in his eyes flickered and danced as he stared into Mena’s.
‘You will go only in full daylight to these gardens. There are certain - dangers – to you should you venture there in darkness, or even twilight.’
He turned back to the door. ‘I will instruct Krolik to take you there later.’
When the door closed behind him, Mena did not leap from her chair and jump with delight as she very much wanted to: she kept her head bent over the book and her hands occupied with the box of coloured inks. She did not think that she was constantly watched, but she knew that Cho Petak could overlook her with his mind whenever he chose. Which is why she took such pains to conceal her reading.
She sat, controlling her impatience, until at last Krolik opened the door. He merely stood there, waiting for her to join him. As soon as she got to her feet, he walked out of the door and she ran to catch up with him. Along a wide corridor and down a broad flight of stairs, Krolik keeping to the sides while Mena trotted in the middle of both corridor and stairs. There were scorch marks everywhere and Mena sensed the echoes of agony burnt into each mark.
Krolik suddenly turned down a much narrower way, then down seemingly endless stairs dimly lit by windows high above. Finally Krolik unbolted a heavy door and swung it open. Mena shot past him to stand just outside, feeling the sun warm on her head and fresh air filling her lungs. Slowly she stepped forward, looking about her. Fruit trees marched in rigid lines, pruned and shaped into tight uniformity.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the door was still open but that Krolik had gone. Mena walked all around this oblong garden of trees, following the black stone path. Tiny buds were beginning to show on the grey twigs but she found little to interest her here. High hedges of some sort of evergreen surrounded the garden but then she discovered a gate tunnelling through the hedge. She peered over the top but the hedge was as thick as she was tall and she could see little.
Mena went through the gate and blinked. Sunlight flashed from a series of pools in this garden and she followed the path towards the first. A fish jumped a little way above the water, vanishing again amidst expanding ripples. There were pale leaves lying flat on the water and Mena knelt for a while, watching fish dart in and out between the wavering white stems. She walked all around this garden and found no gate other than the one through which she had entered. Closing it carefully behind her, she walked on along the rows of trees.
Another gate appeared when she turned the last corner and could see the door into the Menedula, still open, ahead of her. Unlatching the gate, Mena walked through the towering hedge and found herself in a familiar sort of garden at last. They grew herbs and medicinal plants in sheltered courts in Return and she had spent many hours in one such with Mayla. Insects buzzed and droned in the sun, which felt almost hot to Mena.
The cold season had barely ended at home, yet it felt much warmer here. A butterfly whisked past Mena’s nose and she sighed. There was a feeling of peace and safety in this enclosed garden which, she now noticed, was quite circular. The plants did not seem to grow in precise rows in here, but haphazardly: a group of tall plants sheltering more delicate, smaller plants.
She wandered slowly along a sanded path, stooping to brush her fingers over some leaves that seemed kin to those she knew in Sapphrea. She came to a small wooden structure, like a tiny house, and eased open its door. The pungent smell of earth came out to meet her and she saw rakes, and hoes, and spades, neatly ranged along one wall. Without stopping to think, Mena picked a small hand fork and turned back to the garden.
She sat on the warm ground and began gently loosening the soil around the nearest plants, teasing out the weeds. There was lavender, just like at home, sage, mint, and lemon balm. She worked contentedly until the sun was high overhead.
‘I do not know how long I am permitted to remain outside,’ she told a young rosemary bush. ‘Perhaps I should go in again for a while. But I promise I will be back tomorrow for sure.’
She stroked the thin aromatic spines, admiring the tiny blue flowers shyly emerging, then got to her feet. She cleaned the little fork she had used and replaced it in the wooden building, closing the door carefully.
Mena slept the afternoon away, due no doubt to the fresh air and sunshine after days shut up in the Menedula. Through the open door of her bed chamber, she saw Krolik putting a tray of tea on the small table by the window where she always sat to eat. He left without a word as usual and Mena yawned, rolling off the bed. She washed her hands and face at the strange basin affixed to the wall and went into the other room.
Krolik always brought her tea and flat biscuits in the late afternoon. She surmised that the biscuits had been made before the cooks disappeared: they were harder each day. She poured a bowl of tea and sipped it. It was different from tea she was accustomed to in Sapphrea, milder and with a fruity tang to it. Mena tapped one of the biscuits against the table, grimaced, and dunked it in her tea in an attempt to soften it a little at least. She realised she was hungry for much more than these horrid biscuits. But as she had no idea where Krolik prepared the food, and no inclination to wander around the vast, near empty building, she ate the biscuits and ignored the rumblings of her stomach.
Mena climbed onto the chair by the large table and looked at the drawings she had done. She opened one of the books beside her elbow and found the place she had been reading before. She held the page upright, ready to let it fall should Cho Petak appear. If he did, and came to see what she had been looking at, he would find the book open to a picture of something very similar to what she knew as a konina.
Meanwhile, Mena read of the Order of Sedka with a growing irritation. If this was truly what Sedka had believed and taught, then Mena concluded that he was not a very pleasant or intelligent person. Why did he want everything in Orders? She let the page fall closed and considered the herb garden she had found today. It was not ordered at all: was that permitted, in spite of Sedka’s explicit instructions to the contrary?
She lifted one of the pens from the lid of the box Cho had given her, and chose a bottle of dark green ink. Concentrating closely, she began to draw the little rosemary bush she had seen in the garden. In spite of his noiseless entry, Mena was instantly aware of Cho’s presence in the room. She looked up and forced a smile.
‘Thank you for allowing me to go in the gardens. I enjoyed it very much Sir.’
Cho nodded, approaching the table. He stopped abruptly, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
‘What is that foul smell child?’
Mena stared at him. ‘I smell nothing Sir.’
‘Have you been touching any of the plants?’
‘Well, yes Sir. They needed weeding and I - ’
‘Wash yourself thoroughly if you do so again. The smell is most offensive to me.’
Mena sniffed her washed hands and could smell nothing. Cho was already retreating to the door.
‘I cannot bear this taint,’ he told her. ‘Make sure it does not happen again.’
When Krolik brought her supper, Mena ate every scrap and could have managed the same again. She went to bed and lay watching the stars through the unshuttered window. She yawned and turned onto her side, thinking of the herb garden. In her heart, she heard peals of laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
In the days that followed the Vagrantians departure from the Stronghold, Chakar found Babach unaccountably elusive. She never managed to encounter him on his own and her suspicions grew. He was jovial at supper times, chatting and laughing with all, but became somewhat vacant if she tried to question him.
Chakar’s owl, Sava, was seen more often in the hall since Baryet had elected to move in with his wife, and he seemed a little happier, even venturing into the growing areas in search of Lorak a few times. No information had been discovered, pertaining to Babach’s written requests to both Vagrantia and Gaharn as yet, but the Observer did not appear overly concerned.
Chakar finally cornered Babach in the great hall. All the Dragons were absent, Guards were busy in the lower levels, and Babach was dozing by the fire. Chakar planted herself squarely in front of him.
‘You do not move from here until you tell me what is going on old man. You have been avoiding me,’ she accused him. ‘And your wide eyed innocence does not fool me a jot.’
Babach surveyed the small stocky figure, then he grinned.
‘Make yourself comfortable then. What exactly did you wish to know?’
Chakar was taken aback by this instant capitulation. Eyeing him suspiciously, she hooked a stool closer and sat by Babach’s knee.
‘One, you changed the subject appallingly obviously the other evening when we spoke of the Orders in Drogoya. Two, you closet yourself with Mim for hours on end, yet make no comment at all on anything you may have discussed.’ Chakar gave him a glare of frustration. ‘You cannot have been talking secrets all the time, for light’s sake Babach.’
Babach chuckled to himself for a moment while Chakar continued to glare. He stretched out his left hand and lightly touched the pendant she wore beneath her shirt, his right hand resting on his own.
‘Have you noticed – differences – since Mim gave you that?’
‘What kind of differences?’ Chakar sounded wary.
‘Do you hear anything odd, smell anything, feel anything unusual?’
Chakar was fully aware that despite Babach’s relaxed expression and almost casual tone, he was concentrating his attention on her very closely. She clasped her hands round her knees and tried to think what he might mean. A vision of Kadi popped into her head. That early dawn, when starlight had seemed to dance over the great Dragon’s damaged body. Chakar met Babach’s faded blue and silver eyes.
‘When Kadi first woke,’ she began, speaking softly although they were quite alone.
‘Yes?’ he encouraged her.
‘I thought I heard singing, but I am sure it was because I was so very tired.’
She studied Babach’s smile. ‘It was not my imagination?’
‘No, I think not my dear Chakar. Mim also hears singing, whereas I smell mint.’
Chakar looked baffled.
‘I have not yet decided what the singing might imply – nothing harmful – of that I am convinced. But the smell of mint.’ He stopped, waiting for Chakar to deduce his meaning.
She scowled at him, thinking quickly back over her earlier questions and all that had been said so far. Babach closed his eyes while Chakar’s mind raced: the Orders of Sedka and Myata – and then something fell into place. She leaned even closer, shaking Babach’s arm.
‘You think you smell mint because somehow Myata is influencing events?’ Her voice began to rise and she forced it to a lower tone again. ‘How long since Myata died Babach? Died and was given funerary rites within the caves under the Oblaka complex, before witnesses? Are you saying that her ghost, her spirit, has come merrily back from wherever the dead go, to dabble in our present problems?’
Babach opened his eyes. ‘I see no reason why she should not. And as I recall, the caves were then sealed for many years, yet when your predecessors reopened them, did they find her body, even a few bones? Did someone creep in and move her?’
Dark green eyes set in silver stared into faded blue, as thoughts scudded through Chakar’s head. Loosening her grip on Babach’s arm, she sat back a little.
‘No. No sort of physical remains were found. Only the pendant where her body had lain.’
‘The pendant?’ Babach sounded surprised but then he nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Why of course? Babach, you cannot keep this to yourself – why of course?’
‘I believe the pendants are linked not only to Myata, but to something else. The smell of mint would indicate a separate connection with her alone, but the singing - . The singing comes through the pendants from that “something else”.’
‘But you are the only one to smell mint Babach. You wear a pendant yet you have heard no music or singing.’
Babach pursed his lips as he thought. ‘I suspect that this is only the beginning. Wearing these eggs may -–amplify – these sensations. But now they have begun, it would not surprise me to find others experiencing these things.’
‘But how will we know? Will we put up a notice in here, asking if anyone has heard any voices or smelt mint?’
Babach smiled. ‘That might be an idea for later. Now, I think we should contact Vagrantia – there are two pendants there although none in Gaharn.’
‘There are?’ Chakar asked in surprise.
‘Mim gave Thryssa, Lashek and Dessi a pendant each the day that Thryssa left here. He said that Gremara had told him to do so, and that they would have need of them.’
‘The child we have not met, Tika, she wears one I think Mim told us.’
Babach nodded. ‘She is the only one out in the world to have one. There are two now in Vagrantia and five here in this Stronghold.’ He paused. ‘There are hundreds, resting in a cave within the Delvers’ Domain.’
The two Observers sat in silence for a considerable time until they turned at the sound of light footsteps approaching. It was Elyssa, Thryssa’s young protég��é, whose eyes had silvered when the affliction fell upon Vagrantia. She smiled shyly and, without invitation, drew another stool close to the Observers.
‘I felt you speak of the pendants,’ she said softly. ‘I have been in the settlement of Akan in the Domain, working in their archives. They have some amazing texts, wonderfully preserved.’
‘Texts referring to the pendants?’ Chakar asked.
‘Indirectly.’ Elyssa laughed. ‘Whoever arranged all these things, had a dreadful sense of humour I think – there are riddles, and then you find that their answers simply make up more riddles.’
‘You said you “felt” us speak of the pendants child. What did you mean?’
Elyssa hesitated, looking from one Observer to the other. ‘The singing grew louder,’ she said simply.
