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  “What is more important than meeting Sister Midori and her party?” snapped Chancellor Yi. He had been so wrought up lately, he had just responded without thinking. “Where?”

  “Second Captain Der is conducting a search of the western wing!” said the guard running back down the hall.

  “Yes, yes, I know. But have they found anything?”

  The guard didn’t respond, and the chancellor was forced to chase after him with Father Francis following at a more moderate pace. At a crossing of corridors, they chanced upon Captain Brodst, who was just returning from the search. The chancellor and the captain called out to each other almost at the same moment. Yi spoke hurriedly, for time was short. He winced as he pictured Midori chastising the poor watchmen; for he knew that no matter what she said, they would not allow her entrance to the palace, especially after he had made an example out of the unfortunate lad who had let the nanny Isador pass his post.

  “We have searched the whole of the western wing. We did not find anything. I am sorry.” The captain told a partial truth.

  “No reason to be sorry, good captain,” Yi spoke quickly, “go on to the old section in the lower wing and then on to the eastern wing.”

  “Yes, chancellor,” said the captain, also in a hurry to return to his search.

  He didn’t believe the report one of the guardsmen had given him, and he was determined not to pass an unfounded rumor on to the chancellor. Yi had too many other concerns to worry about. He would search out the truth in the rumor if there were one to be found.

  Chancellor Yi commended Captain Brodst and the guards present. He also apologized again for having to make a hasty departure. He didn’t want the captain or the watchmen to get the impression that he was uncaring. He and Father Francis hastily dashed off. Although he had received word that Midori had entered the city, he hoped by some charitable twist of fortune that her entourage had been delayed in the city streets. As he entered the main courtyard, however, he knew she had not been delayed. Even from a distance, he could hear her belligerent scream. Again he winced and again he pitied the guards who were enduring her fury. He was winded from his long walk through the palace and walked at the fastest pace he could manage, the slow, stately pace of the statesman.

  “I order you to allow me passage to my ancestral home! By right of birth, I am The Princess Delinna Alder, second daughter of King Andrew, king of the entire realm. I will not wait!”

  “I am sorry, princess; I have my orders,” the guard replied in a terrified whine. Even he knew that she was also a priestess of the Mother and he both feared and revered her.

  “From whom, you measly little piss bug?”

  “Chancellor Yi himself.” The man’s voice was only a tiny squeak now.

  “Chancellor Yi? I shall have your head if I have to wait one more minute. Do you know what it is to have a sharp edge sever your head from your body? They say that oftentimes you do not die instantly. Did you know that? The Punisher will lift up your severed head so that you may look down at the bloodied stump of your corpse. They say the eyes go wide with mortal shock. To steal a look into the eyes of a dead man is to know what death will be like. Did you know that, you miserable little worm of a man?”

  The guard was sweating now, but at least he was on the other side of the gate from her. She could do nothing to him until he allowed her entrance, and he didn’t intend to do that.

  “I out-rank Chancellor Yi! I order you to let me in now!”

  Midori called to the other guard, “You, there! Yes, you! You stupid idiot! Come here!” As he reluctantly approached, Midori yelled, “I order you to arrest this man and let me in! I will even allow you the pleasure of severing his head and grant you life, yet only if you do so at once!”

  The guard looked sympathetically to his companion and answered, “I cannot.”

  “Then you shall both die!”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute!” yelled Chancellor Yi as he approached.

  He gestured to the guards to lift the gate. Neither moved.

  “Do so quickly, you miserable slugs!” hissed Midori.

  Still, neither man moved.

  “Now, now, calm down. No one is going to be killed here this day, I promise you,” reassured the chancellor.

  The guards looked at one another, still unwilling to move. Midori raised her hands and snarled at them again.

  “You don’t even have them properly trained!” she scoffed.

  Chancellor Yi patted the nearest watchman on the shoulder.

  “It is all right. I assure you no harm will befall you.”

  Midori snickered. She was enjoying the show, as were the others in her party.

  “I have a wife and two of the cutest little boys you ever did see,” quietly spoke the man, nearly in tears.

  The other guard nodded.

  “You can rest easy. You have my word,” whispered the chancellor in as gentle a tone as he could manage.

  The gate was eventually raised, but both men kept a good distance between themselves and Midori. As the chancellor ushered her party in, Midori whirled around and lunged at the first man. She stopped, touching her outstretched index finger to his throat. The man nearly swallowed his tongue as he gulped for air.

  “Now, now,” chastised the chancellor, “there is no need for further harassment.”

  Midori laughed and walked on. Anger held to her features even as she stepped into the palace entry-room. When Yi ordered her entire party searched before he let them proceed, the face that had only shown anger became enraged. Father Francis assured her that it must be done.

  She listened only because she respected this priest of the Father, yet she still thought the chancellor was an old toad. The chancellor handled the entire situation with diplomacy, and by the time the page arrived to show Midori and her two companions to their temporary quarters, she was calmed down.

  Yi also sent several guards with them to escort them and remain with them to protect and watch over them. He specifically ordered them to be conscious of the movements of the guests within the palace. He told Midori that he would return later after they had settled in and bathed. After returning to his study he asked Father Francis to find Adrina. Midori didn’t like the idea of her escorts, but she didn’t make any further comments to Chancellor Yi. She knew the palace well enough to give any guard the slip if need be.

  She remained quiet the entire way until the door was closed and then she screamed furiously.

  “Catrin, this is an insult to me and to the priestesses. I am not to be treated that way. My Father shall hear about this!”

  “Sister Midori-shi of the Eternal Flower, it will all be rectified once we talk to King Andrew,” assured Catrin.

  Midori fixed her with an angry glare. She hated being addressed with her formal name of office. Sister Catrin reminded her that she was only the fourth to the Mother. She also subtly reminded her that she, Catrin, held higher office and should be the one who was upset.

  The priestesses of the Mother were a very secretive group; seldom did they interfere with the ways of the world. They represented the hands of the Great-Mother, silently carrying out her will. The Mother was also the protector of the children of the Father, and so now they must act.

  Jasmine looked at the two sisters and smiled knowingly. The two were always bickering, yet only Sister Catrin knew how to end any further conversation instantly. She simply struck Midori where it hurt the most, her pride. When she first came to the priestesses, Princess Delinna Alder had been something. She was a princess of the kingdom; but once she accepted the role of servitude, she became nothing. She had to re-earn a title, a place with the Mother, a difficult thing for a feisty, arrogant girl to do.

  Now she was the fourth to the Mother; Catrin was the third. Catrin and Midori had both come to them as girls, not even women yet. Time had been good to them; they both held high offices although Catrin was always one step ahead of Midori. Jasmine knew the reason: Midori’s pride was her downfall. Sh
e had great potential, and Jasmine hoped one day Midori would take her place as first priestess. Yet this day was a long way off.

  After they had relaxed sufficiently, Midori called for the page and the three went to bathe. When they returned, a stranger waited for them. It took Midori a mere instant to realize who it was. The last time she had seen Adrina she had been a messy-haired little girl. She ran to embrace her sister. They held each other for a time. Midori’s special sense detected a deep disturbance in the trembling figure she held.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It is father.”

  Midori put a finger to Adrina’s lips to silence them. She had sensed it ever since she had entered the palace. She knew without being told that her father had passed. The extra guards around the palace and the closed gates now explained to her how he had died. She did not want to know anything further, yet she did have a question on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to ask but couldn’t. Briefly, her eyes went to Jasmine, fixed with vehemence. You knew this, they said. You knew this and you said nothing, they reprimanded. How could you? They appealed.

  “I am truly sorry,” whispered Jasmine, in a soft, generous voice.

  Midori turned back to face her sister, the expectant stare in those eyes drove her to ask what she had not wished to say.

  “Did he say anything—of me?” she asked, her voice quivering with the last words.

  Adrina attempted to lie and profess otherwise, except that Midori knew her too well. She begged to know what he had said, and if he had mentioned her before he passed. Adrina stopped; she couldn’t tell Midori what he had said. She had not told any one exactly what he whispered into her ear yet, not even Yi.

  “Go on!” demanded Midori.

  “His last words were—” Adrina hesitated and then said, “May the Father and Mother watch over my children—Midori, I can’t!”

  “I am strong; nothing can hurt me. Go on,” demanded Midori.

  “Valam my son and my daughters—and my daughters—Calyin and Adrina. And may this kingdom last throughout time by the will of the Mother and the Father. Midori, I am sorry. He meant to—he meant to—but his passing was so quick. He just wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  Midori slumped to the floor. She tried to hold back the deep emotion flowing through her but could not. Catrin and Jasmine made a hasty exit so the two could be alone. Catrin was sorry for what she had told Midori moments before. She could not undo her words; the call of the Father was final. All things must eventually end, be they good or bad, they must end. Midori’s long internal torment was also over.

  Midori cradled herself on the floor, refusing the comfort of Adrina. She remembered vividly the day she had left Imtal Palace for good, promising never to return. Her memories flowed back to that day, with the visions flooding through her every thought.

  “My daughter, it is your duty to marry King Jarom’s eldest. It is pre-arranged. It will make for a strong alliance with the Minor Kingdoms. It will be for the good of the kingdom.”

  “Father I can not. I do not love him.”

  “Love will come in time; it is learned. Think of others, not yourself.”

  “Father, I have decided to join the priestesses. You can say that the deal is void, that I have been chosen by the Mother.”

  “No! The date has already been set.”

  “But, I love another.”

  “Who? I’ll tear the rogue’s heart out. Who is it that has soiled your honor?”

  “Please, for me!”

  “It cannot be, my child.”

  “Midori! You will answer me now!” It was Isador who had yelled that.

  Isador looked with sadness upon Midori now and then to Adrina. Even with Midori dressed in the flowing gown of a priestess and clutching at her prayer beads, it never ceased to amaze her how much the sisters looked like their mother. Alexandria had had the same long dark hair, the same clear green eyes, the same high-raised cheek bones.

  Adrina was wishing she had lied and told her he had forgiven her. Midori would have found out eventually, though, and the pain would have been that much worse. In this way, the pain of the past was also at an end, and perhaps now she could move on with her life and allow past regrets to slip away.

  Midori was trembling as she reached out to embrace Isador. Adrina also joined in the embrace. The room was silent as the three wept.

  Chapter Twelve

  A narrow ledge wound its way down into a vast subterranean gorge in the midst of which stood an enormous lake whose emerald waters reflected the off-yellow iridescence cast by the astounding colony of fungi on the ceiling. The dark waters of the mysterious and obviously deep lake lapped at the rocky shore with slow precision, churned methodically by some unseen force. In the center of the lake on an island of unforgiving granite stood the citadel of Ywentir, which resembled a small walled fortress more than a city. A gentle tingling swept over the exposed areas of skin as the group descended into the canyon, and the knowing knew it to be a semblance of the ancient powers, echoing sullenly now, that had constructed and once kept the place.

  “How could a place of such power be invaded? An army couldn’t get past here, let alone find its way through that maze!” said Vilmos, louder than he expected. The echo carried across the open span. He had meant to think it, yet the words had slipped out.

  “Time,” was what Noman answered, “time.”

  They crossed the lake quite easily. A floating platform of stone floating on a pocket of air and magic that ceaselessly and slowly moved back and forth between the shore and the island swiftly accomplished the task. As they approached, the protective gates to the city opened, and they entered without fear. Ywentir was much the same as its former occupants had left it, untouched by dirt or dust. Famished from the day’s long trek and the previous night’s excursions, finding food became the main objective. They had carried few rations with them, and what little they had brought were already fully depleted. Thankfully the kitchens, which had once serviced thousands, were not far off and were surprisingly well-stocked and amply preserved. There was also an entire pantry totally separate from the kitchens that was filled with dried fish and mushrooms. Concerns over their growing hunger rapidly diminished as a fire was built in one of the great kitchen’s smaller hearths.

  After they had eaten, Noman pointed out rooms for them. Vilmos retired only after he had checked on Xith several times. His beautiful companion assured him in words that were soft and reassuring that the shaman would be fine come morning. She sat the vigil beside him through the night thinking of another even as she looked down upon him. She had been given a second chance, a chance to correct errors of the past. She would not fail; she would perform in the proper manner and assure her redemption. Briefly, she thought about those she knew to be so far away and how they fared before she came full circle to the present.

  The night passed, though slowly. And while there was no indication that daybreak had come at long last, she knew it had.

  

  Vilmos greeted the morning with apprehension until he heard a distant grumbling, the sound of Xith’s voice, complaining that he didn’t need any help and that he was not an invalid. When Vilmos entered the shaman’s quarters, all conversation stopped as Xith gawked at him.

  “I thought I was hallucinating! Vilmos, it really is you!” and silently Xith added, “Thank you!”

  The two embraced for a long time. Xith’s heart filled with joy; the sadness of yesterday was gone.

  It took concerted effort to get Vilmos to talk about what had transpired from the time he had fallen and the time he had returned. He would not say a word until he and Xith were alone and only then did he speak of what had occurred. He could not remember much except that for a long time he had existed only in blackness. And then in an avalanche of jumbled thoughts he had seen the battle and the fall, and afterwards nothing save the solitary darkness. Vilmos paused when he saw the other walk into the room. He saw the look on Xith’s face; her beauty wa
s unmatched by anything he had ever seen.

  “I would like to thank you. I owe you—” Xith started to say.

  “You owe me nothing,” she said softly, coldly.

  She hurriedly exited the room, tears of remembrance flowing down her cheeks.

  “What did I say?” asked Xith.

  “Give her some time, that is all,” answered Vilmos. He said nothing more of her and re-started the conversation, explaining how the light, a tremendous, white, searing light had come for him and taken him from the darkness, and how it had faded when she had taken his hand, how warm and soothing her touch had been as she carried him back into the light.

  “What is her name?” asked Xith, curiously probing to see how much Vilmos knew about their mysterious savior.