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
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
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