The Necromancer's Grimoire (38 page)

“He sees us.” Montrose raised an arm.

Alisdair answered with his own wave.

“They will come. So easy. I pity people who do not have this means of communication. What do they do?” William asked.

Nadira's eyes were shining, “They write letters and hope they get delivered.”

“This is better.”

“It is. Look at his face. He is thunderstruck to see us here.”

They met at the halfway point with much merriment. Alisdair's face displayed remnants of regret and Montrose shook him arm to arm with forgiveness. Garreth kissed her more than necessary for a polite greeting. She hugged him and felt his joy and relief. Thedra's mischievous eyes danced over them all.

“Let us go! I am tired! I am hungry!”

The evening meal was more than a merry event. Wine flowed, talk exploded from every place at the table except Garreth's as adventures were related with much gesticulating and waving arms. The table settings were used as props and maps. Spoons became ships and trenchers became carts. Alisdair was in his element and they heard much of their escape from Istanbul. Only when Nadira told the story of Corbett and Calvin and the mob of janissaries did the table fall silent.

“They are brave men,” Alisdair said. “Good men.”

“They heal,” Montrose said. “Though Corbett is much diminished.”

“I must force them to stay in their beds,” Nadira admitted with admiration. “They are driven.”

Alisdair nodded and finished his meal. Thedra looked up at him with adoring eyes. Nadira blushed and turned away. She caught Montrose glancing at them too. He turned and looked at Nadira across the table with such an expression of amazement in his raised eyebrow that she had to laugh.

Later, alone in their room they lay awake listening to their friends enjoy themselves at the end of the corridor. The plaster walls nearly shook.

“That is going to disturb the Templars and William,” he mumbled. “No one will get any sleep tonight.” He lay on his back, stretched out stiffly and did not touch her. The sounds were obviously bothering him.

She touched his arm and he jumped. “Calm down,” she whispered. “Surely you do not begrudge Alisdair his pleasures.”

“Ah,” he breathed. It was not Alisdair's pleasure he was considering.

She laughed softly. “One day you will fulfill your family motto,
semper intrepidus.
I am looking forward to that day,” she teased, running her fingers along his arm until she felt all the hairs stand up. “I hope you remain
eager
.” He groaned and rolled away from her on his side, his broad back and shoulders were an effective wall.

“Go to sleep, Nadira. You will meet the priestess on the morrow as a virgin.”

She moved closer and kissed him gently on the back of his neck, making him shudder. “And when I return?”

He made a low sound in his throat.

The morning dawned bright and warm. Garreth stood at the door, dressed and fed and ready for something he didn't understand. Nadira took his hand in hers and said, “Let's go for a walk.”

He smiled tenderly at her and led her out of the villa and down the dirt track toward the sea.

She allowed him to lead her at his own pace. His strides were naturally long, as he was a tall man, but he shortened them for her unless he forgot to, when she found herself trotting to keep up. He lifted her over stones and boulders and helped her when they had to span the occasional crevasse. They stopped several times to gaze at the landscape. It was rocky and barren, not like Istanbul's green and fragrant gardens. Short cypress and straggly shrubs held tightly to the rock, lest the wind rip them from the cliffs. The stones were white and reflected the summer sun with an intensity that made Nadira squint. The port lay behind them, busy with white sails and oars. Garreth's clear blue eyes scanned the horizon and he frowned. He looked down at her and she knew he was confused.

“What looks like a nice place for a nap?” she prompted.

He looked at her. She inclined her head toward the bluffs that faced the sea. “Somewhere around here is a good place for a tired man to rest.”

He shrugged and made his way up, reaching back for her hand to lift her over the larger rocks. She hitched up her skirt for climbing.

Midway up the side of a rocky hillside that faced the harbor, a dark shadow promised some relief from the insistent sun. She was relieved when Garreth made for the cleft that sheltered the path not only from the sun, but also the view from below.

She told him to sit in the shade there with a wave of her hand as she peered around the sharp edges of the rock. There was a place between two of them that was large enough for a small person to slide farther into the cliff. She turned to Garreth. “Wait for me, Garreth.”

He adjusted himself on the stones and leaned back. His eyes told her he would.

Nadira was able to feel the rock as she advanced into the crevasse. She shuffled her feet and touched the stone with the toes of her slippers before putting her foot down. It became sharply dark as a turn in the cleft blocked all the light from the entrance. She stopped; worried the path might fall away into a hidden pit as a defense against intruders. She felt ahead of her with her mind.

I am here,
she announced.

They knew. All of them. She waited, listening. Somewhere deeper in the crack of the earth she heard the scrape of stone upon stone. She held her breath and extended a toe in front of her. She made her way, hands on the wall, toes scouting the footing until a cool breeze lifted her skirts. She stopped again, and turned her face to the moving air.

“Nadira.” A voice she recognized reached her ears, not inside her head.

“I am here,” she repeated, aloud this time.

“At last. I have been calling you.”

A shaft of light blinded her for a moment, then she saw the opened door that led into an open area within the cave. She squeezed through the narrow doorway.

She looked up at a high ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Braziers burned providing a gentle warmth and subtle light. Two torches were set in the wall and burned with the occasional snap. The stones themselves were raw and cool, the flesh of the mountain, uncarved and undisturbed. Rivulets of water ran down the rock in miniature waterfalls and snaking streams to be cupped at the smooth flagstone floor in stone basins that then overflowed into channels that carried the water into hidden recesses.

The air was fresh with the water, and scented with fragrant resins from the braziers. She waited.

“Finally, you come before us”

The voice was soft, yet piercing. Nadira strained her eyes to see the source, but all around her the flickering torches revealed no presence beyond her own. She did not know what was proper in the presence of a priestess. Kneel? Curtsey? She shifted uncomfortably, unable to answer, confused and she admitted to herself, a little frightened.

“You are smaller than we imagined from the size of your energies, yet you are strong of heart and mind. Come forward into the light.” This instruction was accompanied by a flare from the flaming brazier.

Nadira did not hesitate but stepped forward; relieved to be given a command she could easily follow.

After a long silence, punctuated only by the popping and crackling of the fires, a figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Nadira knelt and bowed her head, afraid to meet the woman's eyes. Her intended courtesy doubled as an excuse to hide her fear but foolish considering to whom she was presented.

“Nadira. You do not escape so easily. Stand and look at me.”

Again, Nadira obeyed. The priestess was tall and slender. Only after the second look did she see the woman's great age. Her long hair was white, caught in a beautiful deep blue veil that covered her head to foot over a shimmering white
stola
. Deep wrinkles creased her face, and the hand she extended to Nadira was thin and fragile. Nadira leaned forward to take the hand, which was dry and cool to the touch. She allowed the older woman to lead her up the shallow steps to an opening in the stone wall which had been hidden in the deep shadows.

“Please. Sit here.” The priestess led her to a marble bench, then released her hand. “We have much to talk about and I would have you comfortable.” She shook her arm and the tinkle of tiny bells echoed in the chamber. Her bracelets summoned a young girl with an ewer and goblets, followed by another with a tray of fruit. The priestess said nothing until the girls had retreated, then she gestured toward the tray. “Please eat and drink while I look at you.”

Nadira was too nervous to be hungry, but there was no thought of disobedience. She plucked a grape with one hand and lifted the goblet with the other. The liquid was sweet, almost cloying, and the grape was sharply tart. Her eyes watered with the contrast. The priestess laughed softly.

“Nadira. A beautiful name. ‘The precious one'. Lovely. You glow with cerulean light, my daughter. A rare precious light. A thousand stones of lapis lazuli could not compete with your radiance. It pleases me so much to have you here and to have the promise of your many years with us.”

Nadira set down her goblet. “Many years?” she asked.

The priestess raised an eyebrow. “You have come to stay with us, of course.”

“I came because I was summoned by a beautiful voice in my head. I came because I was brought here by a man I respect and admire. I came because I am curious, and I want answers to my questions. I do not intend to stay beyond my purpose.”

“And you shall not. Though I see your purpose has not yet been revealed to you.”

“I…”

The priestess interrupted, “You believe you are traveling. You think you are passing through. You have an idea of a life with a man,” she paused and her eyes appeared to look inward. “A dark man,” she smiled. “Handsome and strong.” She frowned. “And damaged. His body and his soul. Violent. Even vicious…”

“Not vicious!” Nadira's hand flew to her mouth in horror at the rudeness of her interruption. “Not vicious,” she whispered. “Not vicious. Forgive me,” she mumbled from behind her fingers.

The dark eyes focused on her. “Do you deny his fervent desire for a vengeance even I tremble to describe?”

“No.” Nadira wiped her eyes. “No. He will not release the idea that he must punish his brother's murderer.”

“Do you deny that this brutality lives in his heart? That it consumes his mind and tears at his soul?”

Nadira blinked, for she could not deny this truth, as much as she wanted it to be false.

The priestess continued, “Do you think that linking your life to the life of this vicious man will not consume your own soul? That you will escape corruption? You must break that bond to save yourself. He is beyond your help. Your ties to him are based on false emotional beliefs.”

Nadira whispered, “No…” She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, but found they only made her lightheaded. The thought of leaving Montrose forever caused a great pain in the center of her body. She put a hand over it, but the pain did not abate.

The voice of the priestess became soft and cajoling. “Then let us think together, my dear. All the evils of the world are caused by men. The story of Pandora was created by men to deflect the truth. The story of Adam and Eve was created by men to deflect the truth. One does not need a story to see what is clear before one's own eyes. Who starts the wars that lead to famine, disease and grief? Who takes the lives of young men and boys and puts swords in their hands and orders them to take the lives of other young men and boys? Who takes girls from their mothers and forces their legs apart in agonizing subjection? Will you answer that it is women who perform these evils?”

Nadira could not even nod her head. The images the priestess evoked twisted her heart and clutched at her throat.

“Who enslaves the ‘other'?” the priestess continued. “Who preaches from the churches that innocent people do not deserve to live and must be cleansed from the earth like rats? Do women go house to house and demand poor peasants give up their few coins in the name of the king, or take their stored food and leave whole families to starve even though they worked day and night all summer in preparation for the icy blasts of winter? I ask you. Do you see women with long hair and flowing gowns baking bread that is full of sawdust, selling sacks of rotting vegetables to the unsuspecting? Stealing, raping, beating…”

“Stop. Please stop.” Nadira wept, thinking of Alisdair and his laughter, Garreth and his strong arms, William's soft eyes and gentle voice. She met the priestess' gaze. “Not all men…”

“No. And there are evil women, too. I have met them, I know. But we are talking about all of this world. Not one individual or another. Men cause the suffering we try to ease. You cannot be the servant of a man, a violent man, and be a priestess. It is impossible.”

Nadira closed her eyes.
How could I have not seen this coming? Because I saw myself as the wife of a man, with the duties of a wife.
That is why.
She opened her eyes. “I did not think I was to be a priestess,” she said truthfully.

“I know.”

“I thought I was coming here to learn, to be taught. To finally understand what the book was trying to tell me.”

“And you will. But first you must dismiss this man.”

Nadira clutched her throat and the tears came again. “I cannot.”

“Do you not carry a great secret?”

She sniffed, “What?”

“Do you not know exactly what this man needs to ease his pain, yet you withhold it?”

“Ah. Yes.” Nadira blinked her tears away. “I will never tell him. Never.”

“Why? You are his woman? Then he owns you. You break the bond of man and wife by withholding this knowledge.” The priestess turned her head with a sly smile. “You defy your own logic.”

“I…I am not his wife, exactly. I am his, uh…well…I am his…”