Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (38 page)

Nolwenn was
bewildered. All she had wanted to do was help her father get better, but he had
nearly died. And somehow Dirk felt she was to blame for his close call with
death.

Had there been
something in the potion that harmed him? But she trusted Yuna; she was so wise
and skilled with herbs. Was it possible that she mixed up the herbs and because
of the mistake Nolwenn’s father had nearly died before his time?

It was Dirk
who suggested to Judoc that they invite Melisande to share the evening meal
with them that night. He had no wish to alarm his mother, but he wanted to see
with his own eyes the reaction of his sister-in-law when she saw her
father-in-law alive and well.

Melisande
entered the hut somewhat hesitantly, he noticed. Was that an affectation in her
manner, or was she uncertain of what to expect? After the last family gathering
when she and Maelys had crossed verbal swords did she wonder what treatment
awaited her on this night?

The family was
seated at the table, all but Dag who still lay in his sickbed. Dirk saw
Melisande’s eyes dart around the table, and her brow puckered as if with a
silent question. And then she looked at Nolwenn, and her eyes narrowed to slits
and her mouth tightened until it was a thin red line in her angry face.

And he knew.

Melisande
recovered herself and took a seat at the table. She smiled at Judoc and
commented on Dag’s absence.

“And where is
my father-in-law?” she inquired. “I heard he has been unwell this past week. Is
he very bad?”

She affected
concern with this last remark, but Dirk noticed that she riveted her gaze on
Nolwenn and her eyes never blinked. And he noticed that Judoc saw it as well.
She stared at Melisande, and then slowly shook her head.

“No, he is not
bad at all,” she answered. “Tis true that this afternoon he gave us a fright, a
very bad fright too! Dear Nolwenn brought him a potion to drink, and no sooner
did he swallow it then he stopped breathing and nearly scared the life out of
me. I was sure that he had departed this world, indeed I did! But we all prayed
to Dominio and no sooner had the words left our mouths than Dag was breathing
easier and seemed much better.

“A miracle it
was, if you ask me,” Judoc finished with a casual air, yet casting a sidelong
glance at her daughter-in-law.

Dirk looked
Melisande full in the face and saw her face redden and then pale during Judoc’s
recital. When her mother-in-law finished speaking she permitted herself to
comment.

“Well, isn’t
that just a marvel,” she said in a voice so hard it could have shattered stone.

It was then
that Dirk noted how tightly she clenched her fists when she raised her glass of
water to her lips, and how suddenly she slammed the glass down on the table
when she had finished drinking, as if in frustration at the workings of fate.

Dirk told
Maelys of his suspicions one evening when they strolled outdoors to catch a
breeze in the warm June air. He had visited Yuna, he said, and her conversation
was most enlightening indeed. Yuna told him that Melisande wished to be
instructed in herbs and gathered her own to season her stews, always taking
extra to Yuna.

Just suppose,
he said, that Melisande had learned which herbs were poisonous from Yuna. Just
suppose, he said, that she kept a small supply on hand. And just suppose, he
said, that when Nolwenn left the hut to fetch water from the spring for her
that Melisande slipped something lethal into the healing potion Nolwenn had
bought from Yuna. Was that what nearly killed their father?

Maelys was
sure of it. She had never trusted Melisande, and her dislike of her grew daily
after the second departure of Cort, this time taking with him his mother who
was such a good friend to Judoc, and Siv, whom she herself had grown to love
like another sister. Maelys already had many grievances against Melisande, and
if she would have killed her father…

Maelys in her
sorrow at losing first Brenus and then Cort and Siv had turned to Dominio for
comfort. She had no one to comfort her: her mother was too deep in despair at
Cort’s departure with his wife and mother following on the heels of losing
Brenus, and her siblings too young. She it was who needed to comfort them. But
she had nowhere else to turn except to Dominio.

When she did
so she felt a warm and soothing presence envelop her, wrapping itself around
her like a fur pelt on a cold winter night. Gradually she felt herself
strengthened, and her faith became more real to her. Odd but until this time of
testing with Melisande came her faith had just been something she had always
known since she was a little girl. Now, however, she felt a strong hand taking
hers and leading her through the valley of despair, and a childlike trust came
forth in her that enabled her to commit herself fully to Alexandros and His
Kingdom in a way she had not been capable of before.

She wished
that she was able to locate Cort. How she wished she could share this incident
of poisoning with him. Surely he would have known how to advise her and Dirk on
what action was best to take against Melisande to ensure that she never
attempted to harm Dag again.

Nolwenn
slipped out of the hut early one morning before the household was awake. She
knocked quietly on the door of Melisande’s hut, careful lest she had not yet
risen. It was not long before the door opened and Melisande peered through the
opening at her. A soft smile lit her face and she admitted the girl at once.

She drew
Nolwenn into the living quarters and they sat in companionable silence,
Melisande rocking softly in the chair that Brenus had made for her, and which
was now so soothing when she grew weary from carrying the child. They had not
long been seated when another knock came at the door, this one loud and firm.
Melisande nodded her head at Nolwenn, and the girl sprang up to open the door.

Yuna stood
there to the surprise of the girl; the old woman was not known for leaving her
hut except to gather herbs, and was not in the habit of calling on the other
villagers. She did not appear happy to see Melisande’s visitor. Nolwenn quietly
admitted her and made her way to a stool at the corner of the room, leaving the
more comfortable chair she had been sitting in for the old woman.

“Good day,”
Yuna bid Melisande as she peered at her from her birdlike eyes.

Melisande
pursed her lips as she caught the expression in the old woman’s face. It was
evident to Nolwenn that she was not pleased by this visit from the wise woman. What
would they have said to each other, she wondered, if she had not been present?

“And how is
your father, Nolwenn? For it grieved me to hear that he had been ill, as I was
just informed yesterday by one of the maidens who came to buy herbs for her
spots. I hear he has had a miraculous recovery, he has; it’s the talk of the
village!”

Yuna smiled
fondly at Nolwenn and cast a look of pure malice at Melisande, who clamped her
lips tightly together as sparks flew from her green eyes. She hastily cast them
down and looked demurely at the floor.

Melisande then
offered the old woman something to drink to refresh herself. Yuna cackled and
risked a joviality that Nolwenn noticed made her sister-in-law uncomfortable.

“I would be
happy to have a drink, but would be careful when offered by you,” she said in a
voice that was harsh in its raspy snarl.

Melisande’s
eyes hardened until they looked like shards of green glass.

“And what is
that supposed to mean,” she asked sharply in a voice as hard as her eyes.

The old woman
did not blink her own as she examined Melisande’s face.

“You know what
I mean,” she muttered.

“I think you
had better explain yourself,” Melisande ordered with a voice so cold that
Nolwenn suddenly shivered.

She had never
heard Melisande speak like that, nor seen that expression of icy disdain on her
face. It looked like a stranger standing before her, and not her beloved
sister-in-law…

Yuna suddenly
stood up, so swiftly that her chair fell backwards behind her. She loomed over
Melisande, staring at her with a malevolent gaze that made Melisande’s eyes
widen and her face pale.

“Dag Adalbart
is a good man,” she spat at Melisande. “The best man this village has ever
seen.”

She paused and
continued to stare at Melisande, who now shrank back in her chair and looked up
at the old woman with fear in her eyes.

“Curse you!”
Yuna spat the words out. “Curse the day you ever came to this village. T’was an
evil day when you arrived in Leith. Cursed be you, and the child of your womb!”

Nolwenn gasped
and ran to Melisande. What had come over Yuna to spew out such venom at her
sister-in-law, she who had just lost her husband, and was carrying his child!

Melisande saw
the terror of the girl and attempted to calm her fear. She put an arm around
Nolwenn and spoke to her in words that addressed Yuna as well.

“Oh look,
Nolwenn! I just noticed something very amusing.”

She pointed to
Nolwenn and said, “Maiden.”

She pointed to
her swollen belly and said, “Mother.”

She pointed to
the furious old woman facing her and said, “and Crone.”

Then Melisande
laughed in the face of her accuser.

When Dag was
fully recovered, he announced to Judoc that he wished to visit Valerium. It
would be only a brief visit; he wanted to see how matters stood with the
Alexandrians there, and to obtain any news of Marcus. He knew that his old
friend kept in touch with Justus Lucius, and surely he would have news of the
Maximus family.

Judoc decided
that it would probably be advisable for Dag to remove himself from Melisande’s
reach for a while, and as the girl showed no intention of leaving Eirinia,
perhaps a visit to old friends would be beneficial. She would remain in Eirinia
where Dirk and Brand would take care of the fields.

Dirk felt that
the ground under his feet had become unstable, threatening at every turn to
pitch him forward on his face. Something was wrong in the village. He was
extended sympathy when his father had been ill and congratulations when he
recovered, but there was also something afoot that mystified him.

When the
Summer Festival came in early August there was no attempt to hide Niamh’s
desire to honor the old gods. Nor was there any attempt made to stop her and
praise Dominio only. And now her sister Enora joined her openly, and the two of
them appeared to cow the village councilmen, who gave way to their wishes. What
was going on with the villagers, he wondered.

His father was
no longer there to raise a hand of protest. Nor was Cort, Cort who had stood so
firmly by their father’s side during Spring Festival. Dirk did not feel himself
adequate to take the stand that he knew his father and brother would have
taken. He did not have the same stalwart faith, or their bold courage. The
realization brought shame to his heart, yet he could not help himself.

He and Judoc
and Maelys were outnumbered by those who wished to turn back to their old ways.
His mother and sister were distressed, but felt helpless in the rising tide of
dissatisfaction that seemed to have overtaken their friends and threatened to
set their feet back on the path of destruction. Dirk knew that he should have
protested, should have shamed them as his father would have done had he been
there. But he did not, and the moment passed…

What would
happen to Erinia now that his father and Cort were gone, he wondered. Would the
villagers repent of this temporary madness and return to complete devotion to
Dominio, or would they return fully to their old gods and their old ways, and
forsake Dominio altogether?

Marcus was now
certain that some evil was afoot. Why had Decimus left for Valerium, but told
his wife he was bound for Lucerna to visit a sick uncle who, in fact, did not
exist? What wicked mischief was he wreaking now?

He glanced at
his son-in-law and saw the bemused look on Antonius’ face. He realized that
before this journey was over there would be much revealed about his father that
until now had been mercifully hidden from this innocent young man…

Marcus
recovered from the unpleasant jolt he had just received: Tullia had set out for
Lucerna so he must search for her in this land whether Decimus was there or
not. He turned to Antonius abruptly.

“Come,” he
said, “we must find Tullia and Lucius at once.”

Antonius
nodded and they began their descent into the village below.

The scent of
some sweet and heavy flower was overpowering. It was not wholly unpleasant, yet
to Marcus who preferred more delicate fragrances, it soon cloyed on him. The
air at this altitude was thin and he found himself pausing to take short, quick
breaths to fill his lungs after their hard ride.

Antonius,
however, seemed impervious to both the heady perfume of the flowers and the
thin air. He kept his eyes straight ahead, glancing away from the path only
when presented with some strange sight that he would not have encountered in
Lycenium. And strange sights there were to be sure!

The stalls in
the bazaar offered wares that neither of the aristocrats had ever seen before,
not even in Lycenium, the greatest marketplace in the Valeriun Empire. One
booth sold pendants crafted out of hardened resins; when worn next to the skin
an exotic fragrance was released. Another displayed stones carved out of gems
that were rolled between the hands to calm one when anxious, revive one when
tired, or prevent nightmares from visiting one while in the land of slumber. A
third booth offered glass globes that would reveal the future to those who
gazed into their depths.

Marcus paused
beside the booth of a woman who importuned by passers to stop and sample her
healing potions: there was a cunning look in her glance that did not bode well
for the integrity of her transactions. Or so he thought.

“Buy my
potions?” she queried. “I have cures for heartache, fear, and loss of memory.”

Marcus fought
the temptation to laugh. What a strange array of cures indeed!

The woman
spied the twinkle in his eyes and pursed her lips together.

“Do not
laugh,” she wagged a warning finger in his face.

He sobered
instantly, and assembled a more respectful expression on his face.

“Yes?” he
asked with an innocent air. “Forgive me; I never heard of cures for these
ailments before. You truly must be a magician of sorts to be able to heal these
afflictions.”

She looked
deeply into his eyes now, so deeply that he grew uncomfortable. Was she a
sorceress of some kind?

“You may have
need of one of these before the day is out,” she said, nodding her head with
the air of one who has great wisdom.

She stared at
him and narrowed her eyes until they were nearly invisible in her face. Marcus
was just about to move on when she searched for a bottle and handed it to him.

“There,” she
intoned as she pressed it into his palm. “That is for loss of memory.”

Marcus felt
annoyed, convinced now that the woman was a charlatan.

“I have no
loss of memory,” he huffed.

He attempted
to give the bottle back to her, but she closed her fist against his
outstretched hand. She shook her head slowly from side to side, and locked her
eyes on his. Under her scrutiny Marcus felt a strange qualm of uneasiness grow
within him.

“It is not for
you,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain his ears to hear it.

She looked
through him to a vision that only she could see, muttering through clenched
lips before she continued.

“No,” she
murmured. “It is not for you: it is for your true love, who has forgotten
something of great importance to you.”

Marcus felt a
chill of fear at these words. Who could they refer to but Tullia! But why would
she have forgotten him?

Antonius
tugged on his arm and drew him away from the booth. Marcus threw the bottle on
the ground, afraid to even touch it. The woman must be a witch, and no good
would come of her potions.

They continued
to amble down the streets of the little village. As they did so Marcus kept an
eye open for his wife and son. How long had they been here, he wondered. And were
they in Lucerna still?

When they
stumbled across an inn, Marcus decided to stop and ask inquiries regarding any
strangers who had lately entered the village. He strode rapidly inside and
accosted the proprietor.

Had he seen
any strangers of late, he asked; a young man dressed in a similar manner to
himself and his companion, and an older woman who traveled with him?

Yes, the
proprietor stated. They had arrived about ten days ago and were very pleasant
guests. He wished that all of his guests were so pleasant! Why he could tell
them about some of his former guests that he would not welcome back; there was
one young man from Golida who…

But here
Marcus interrupted with barely concealed irritation.

“Yes, but
these guests; are they here still? Or have they moved on?”

“Oh, they left
yesterday,” the proprietor answered. “I would have liked them to stay longer,
but the young man said they had business to complete and would not stay. The
woman, now, I could tell she wished to stay longer, so pleasant she was, so
kind and polite…”

“Well, that is
very nice. Thank you so much,” Marcus interjected. “Can you tell me where they
are bound? Did they mention that?”

The proprietor
frowned in concentration and puffed his lips together. He spent so much time on
this activity that Marcus had to fight to resist the impulse to rap on his head
to speed the process further along.

At last the
man spoke.

“No,” he
drawled, “I really could not say that they did. Now, they may have said
something to me, but I forgot it in the confusion of attending to my guests.
For it does get frightfully busy here at times; I will admit that…”

“Thank you;
thank you again!”

And Marcus
pulled Antonius away with him and bound out of the inn and leaped on his horse
to search for his wife and son.

Just as the
sun was starting to set in a sky of lavender and pale orange, Antonius spotted
them just half a mile ahead, as they descended a hill leading into a valley
filled with heather and fern, but devoid of any other sign of human life. Their
carriage raised a cloud of dust that would have obstructed them from view were
it not for the dust that betrayed their presence. Marcus spurred his horse to a
greater speed, and Antonius hastened to keep up with him.

Though the
carriage was traveling at a fast pace, it did not take Marcus long to catch up
with it and overtake it, so intensely did he lay on the spurs to his horse.
Antonius groaned, but sped on after him. Marcus turned in his saddle and
motioned for Antonius to ride to the other side of the carriage. Antonius
divined his purpose and obeyed.

Cyriacus spied
the two riders that suddenly crossed his path and instinctively pulled on the
reins. Had he not done so the carriage would have crashed into them and run
them over. When the dust cleared he was able to make out the identity of the
interlopers.

“Master!” he
cried out. “Who would have thought to meet you in this land!”

“Cyriacus!”
Marcus exclaimed. “Good day to you; but I must speak to my wife at once.”

Marcus leaped
down from his horse and bounded to the carriage. He pulled open the door and
jumped inside. Tullia screamed, thinking they had been accosted by robbers.
When she saw Marcus she collapsed in relief against him.

“Marcus! What
are you doing here?” she asked.

Lucius
inexplicably grew pale and Marcus was seized with curiosity by his son’s
strange reaction at the sight of the father he had not seen in a couple of
months. Surely he should be happy to see him!

“Why, I am
searching for you, my love,” he answered Tullia as he continued to watch his
son. “Why have you dragged me away on this wild hunt? For I came back from
Eirinia only to discover that you had left Lycenium with no word for me.”

He kissed her
hair tenderly and she nestled against him. Lucius dropped his eyes from his
father’s relentless stare and gazed at the floor which had taken on a sudden
fascination, Marcus noted.

Tullia
appeared puzzled, and gave Marcus a searching glance.

“Hmmm?” she
murmured. “I did not drag you away from anything.”

“It is only a
manner of speaking, my love,” Marcus chuckled. “But tell me, Tullia, what was
so urgent that you fled to Lucerna and left no message for me? It is not like
you; not like you at all.”

She gave him
no answer except a blank stare. Her eyes looked vacant, and he noticed with a
start that she appeared much younger than she did when he last saw her. Her
skin had taken on the bloom of her youth, and the fine lines around her eyes
had disappeared from sight. When he clasped her hand it was as smooth as it had
been when she was a young girl…

“Tullia,” he
asked tentatively as he drew back to examine her, “what has happened to you?
The years appear to have fallen away from you, and you are once more as lovely
as in the days when we courted.”

He puzzled
over this, but was unprepared for the shock of her answer.

“Why should I
not come to Lucerna? It is my home after all, is it not?”

The air left
his lungs so suddenly that Marcus felt everything swirl around him. He gasped
and took Tullia by the shoulders, turning her around to face him fully.

“No, Tullia;
our home is in Lycenium. You know this. What nonsense is this, to say that
Lucerna is your home?”

Lucius jerked
his eyes up from his contemplation of the floor and gave his father an
imploring glance. Marcus felt that some mystery was in play, and when Lucius
put a finger to his lips, he obeyed the unspoken command of his son.

“Father, I
need some air: do you not feel that you need some air as well?”

“Yes,” Marcus
agreed with a quick glance out of his eyes at Tullia. “I do feel that a nice
brisk walk would do you some good as well, having been confined in the
carriage.”

They alit from
the carriage and walked quickly out of earshot. When they had put a good
distance between themselves and the carriage Lucius at last broke his silence.

“Mother is not
well,” he said with an urgency in his voice that frightened Marcus. “I am not
sure what it is, although I have a suspicion.”

Marcus swung
an arm as though swatting at an invisible fly.

“Speak
plainly, Lucius: I’ve no time for riddles!”

Lucius slowly
took a deep breath to brace himself. Inwardly, he debated about how much to
tell his father at this point. He decided that there was no point in mentioning
Logos before first recounting what had befallen his mother.

One plight at
a time, he assured himself. After all, there will be time to tell him about
Logos soon enough.

Marcus waited
with growing impatience, his foot pawing at the ground in the manner of a horse
that is eager to enter the fray of battle. He all but snorted as he fretted
over his son’s delays.

“Well,” he
barked at Lucius. “I am waiting. Get on with it and be quick about it. What has
happened to Tullia?”

“Mother and I
arrived in Lucerna about ten days ago. From the first she was enamored of the
place, and quickly developed a fondness for a certain fruit. It is called
faran
and one bite of it is enough to make one forget all of your troubles. She
ate the fruit every day and I soon saw a strange thing. My mother looked much
younger than she did before entering this land. Surely you must have noticed,
Father.

“But another
thing happened that alarmed me. She seems to have forgotten why we came to
Lucerna, and now wants to stay here. She says it is her home, but I know that
is not so, for I remember well where we came from.”

Lucius paused:
he hoped that would be enough to satisfy his father. Marcus was not to be put
off so easily, however, and he soon found himself squirming under his
interrogation.

“Well, I am
happy to hear that,” Marcus replied. “And now, tell me: why did you come to
Lucerna in the first place? What errand sent you fleeing here so quickly that
you did not leave a message for me?”

Lucius knew
that his father would be furious once he knew of the theft of Logos, and that
his own carelessness was responsible for it. He weighed his choices, and the
plight of his mother presented a way out for him.