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
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
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