As they neared the seminary gates, more people crossed the path before her. Many wore white Healer’s robes, or the gray robes of novices. She even saw a few lower priestesses walking swiftly from tent to tent, their robes blue or purple, denoting rank. Still, they were a rare sight compared to the number of serfs and peasants.
Lori put her sleeve to her nose. Unlike Ferran, she was not immune to the plague. All of the Healers and priestesses wore gloves on their hands, scarves around their hair, and handkerchiefs tied around their faces. She hoped the strength of the Goddess would protect them as well.
“Seen enough?” Ferran asked.
Lori shook her head. “I need to speak to the headmaster,” she said. “I need to warn the school about the plague and the Dark God. The best way to disperse the Shade’s power is to expose them.”
“Humph,” Ferran muttered around his pick. “If you think they’ll believe it.”
“They’ll have to,” Lori murmured, looking around again at the camp of sick refugees. How else could anyone explain this level of illness?
The path cleared ahead of her and Lori took a direct course forward. The seminary’s wrought iron gates stood wide open. Cots, stretchers and even haystacks filled the outdoor pavilion, where the sick lay moaning and coughing.
Lori and Ferran continued straight through the courtyard of the seminary to the front doors. No one stopped them. No one asked who they were. No one even looked up from their work.
Once inside, Lori looked around the familiar flagstone landing. A twisting staircase proceeded upward directly in front of her to the seminary’s central tower. To her left resided the urgent sick bay, to her right, the children’s ward. But where would she find the headmaster?
Lori led Ferran up the spiral staircase. The first place to look would be the headmaster’s study.
Three flights of stairs later, Lori found herself before a solid oak door. A series of dents and scratches where students had vented their frustrations marred its base. She remembered kicking it a time or two herself. She stood in this very place more than a decade ago when she first came to the seminary, homeless and looking for any sort of work: cleaning, mucking out the stables, mending or cooking or….
But Headmaster Duncan noticed her skill in the garden and how thoroughly she performed the most mundane tasks. He saw her potential. She owed him too much—her life, really.
She raised her hand to knock, but the sound of voices reached her.
“It’s repulsive,” a clipped male voice asserted, “to have all these filthy peasants polluting our city with their disease. We must do something about it!”
“King Royce has the final say,” a weary, if familiar, voice replied. Lori’s ears perked up. If Headmaster Duncan was still in charge, she might have a chance at being heard. “The nobility aren’t the only ones who call this city home. Most of the lower class are visiting their families for winter solstice. They’ll leave again within a few weeks….”
“And leave the city reeking of their contagious residue? You’re not so naive, Duncan. You know how illness spreads. Think of the citizens who still have their health! We must shut the city gates at once. King Royce won’t sign the decree, but perhaps, honorable Headmaster, if you spoke with him…?”
Silence. Lori waited. That heavy voice asserted itself again. “You must see it’s to the city’s benefit. My only concern is for the strength of the Kingdom. Should King Royce himself fall ill….”
A longer silence ensued.
“I will have to think on it,” the headmaster replied gravely. “Is there anything else, Lord Cedric? As you can see, I have more than enough work to keep me occupied….”
A chill ran down Lori’s spine at that name: Lord Cedric. She almost stepped back from the door. Here, of all places—and now, of all times!
The oak door opened abruptly and Lori stood face to face with Lord Cedric Daniellian.
At first he looked right through her, just as a lord would look at a peasant. For a fleeting moment, she thought he might not recognize her, and he would breeze past her like he would any other serf.
But then his eyes narrowed.
They stared at one another. Lori felt cursed with bad luck. She didn’t greet him, and he didn’t speak. What could she say to the man who once tried to kill her?
She stepped out of the way. Lord Daniellian walked stiffly past Sora and Ferran. His dark velvet cloak swirled around his heels. She watched him pass down the hall. Somehow, the First Tier always appeared more vibrant than the average commoner: well dressed, polished and poised. They had the wealth to afford sophisticated clothes, beautiful mates and overly educated offspring. Yes, the Daniellians were a fine-looking, intelligent family, with ash-blond hair and sky blue eyes. But their pale hair matched their hearts, which ran white-cold with ice.
“Well, Cedric looks about as jovial as I remember him,” Ferran muttered by her side. “Does he know you?”
Lori shrugged uncomfortably. She watched until he disappeared down the staircase. “Wait here for me,” she replied without explanation. Then she swiftly entered the headmaster’s office.
Headmaster Duncan stood behind his desk, gathering a stack of parchment in his arms. He wore heavy white robes hemmed with purple brocade around the collar, and a gold medallion at his neck bearing the King’s royal seal, which meant he now served on the royal counsel. Lori stood quietly for a moment, taking in the sight. The robe hadn’t changed at all, and he had aged surprisingly well over the decade since she’d last seen him. His hair, once gleaming blond, was now completely white. But it remained full and wavy, and his skin still held a healthy glow. The only true difference were his eyes, which looked heavy and bruised from lack of sleep.
He paused when he saw her. His face widened in recognition, then his lips pulled into a strained, slightly bemused smile.
“Surprised?” Lori broke the silence.
He raised an eyebrow. “Of course—and not at all, really,” he said. “Lorianne Blithe, one of our less conventional students. I suppose I expected you to wander back to this office at some point, but I didn’t think it would take this long.” A wry smile cracked his lips. “Get lost in the Smokeshaft District again?”
Lori chuckled. “Wandered a bit further than that, I’m afraid.”
Headmaster Duncan nodded thoughtfully. His eyes trailed about the room, caught by some distant memory. Then his expression darkened. “Did Cedric see you on his way out?”
She nodded.
“Humph,” Duncan muttered. “I’m pleased to see you…but you really shouldn’t have come back. And I can’t say many of our staff will be happy to see you…the older ones, you know.”
Lori hesitated. Given the plague and her past years of travel, her scandal with Cedric seemed very long ago. Still, the heaviness of those memories filled the room. She had fled the seminary in quite a hurry, leaving Duncan to sort out the mess she left behind. And quite a mess it had been, beginning with a false accusation, and ending with an attempt on her life.
Duncan must have skillfully navigated those waters and put the issue to rest, given Lord Cedric’s recent visit. He was the seminary’s largest patron and almost all of the school’s funds came from his very deep pockets. He might as well own the building, the grounds, and everyone within them.
For a brief moment, she was tempted to defend herself, but she took the higher road.
“I wish I had more time to catch up,” she said directly. “But I have important information about this strange illness infecting the city. Do you have a few minutes?”
The headmaster’s eyes slid to the small, ornate clock on his desk. “With this many patients, and Lord Cedric’s rant still ringing in my ears?” he muttered. “I have about five minutes.”
Lori grinned quietly to herself. They were friends once. She knew they had unsorted business, but perhaps they could leave it behind. She began her tale quietly, so as not to be heard by anyone outside the door.
She held his attenti
on for a full two minutes before she realized her mistake. She got as far as the Shade’s involvement, but after seeing the headmaster’s face, she didn’t try to explain the magic of the Sixth Race or the Cat’s-Eye stones. All too late, Lori imagined what she must look like—a Healer who, last the headmaster recalled, caused bad business with one of the most powerful families in the realm, then ran off. Now, after many years of obscurity, she returned with news of a magical plague and a rising Dark God only mentioned in storybooks. Duncan didn’t know her that well any more. Perhaps he never had. She probably looked liked a raving lunatic in his eyes.
Lori allowed her story to dwindle to a hesitant conclusion. She should have approached him after finding The Book of the Named. At least then she might have some evidence. Hopefully Sora was doing better at the Wind Temple.
“Lorianne…as you well know, all Healers serve the Goddess,” the headmaster began slowly, “but we must be careful of superstition. You have a sharp mind. I’m sure you’ve also come to the conclusion that this disease spreads from the farmlands in the lower plains. But this business with the Dark God?” He shook his head wearily. “Prayers can heal the mind, and perhaps even the body, if one is blessed…but to call this disease a curse, and to say it was caused by magic….” He sighed, and the wrinkles on his face deepened.
Lori worried her lip again, wondering if she should tell him about Ferran’s Cat’s-Eye necklace. At least that much she could prove. But the consequences could be extreme. If they knew Ferran could cure the plague, they wouldn’t let him leave, and his stone had limitations….He couldn’t possibly cure everyone in the seminary, not even on the first floor.
News would spread fast. He’d be a wanted man for as long as they stayed in the city. The Shade would catch wind….
“How bad is it?” she asked softly, indicating the courtyard out the window.
Headmaster Duncan removed his spectacles and rubbed them on the sleeve of his grand white robes. “The worst I’ve ever seen,” he said briefly. “I suppose you heard Cedric harping about closing the city gates? We might have to, if this illness endangers the King….”
“Is it very bad in the city?”
“Not yet, but worsening,” he said. “Especially now, with winter solstice and so many visitors. But we are trying to contain the infected areas. Most of the sick are on the West bank….” He said West bank with a familiar sort of distaste, as one might say garbage heap. “Most of our patients came from farmlands farther south. They say the illness spread from their livestock, which is worrisome.”
“Rare, that a disease travels from animals to humans,” Lori agreed, though she had reached the same conclusion months ago.
“Aye,” he murmured. “Rare indeed. It makes me wonder if the livestock aren’t the culprit at all. Perhaps it comes from the plants, which means it came from the soil. It could be in our food supply.”
Lori sat back. She hadn’t considered that. A long, slow breath escaped her lungs. “Harvest season has passed….”
“Yes, but what do we do come spring? If the Kingdom’s soil is somehow tainted with this disease… who knows how far it has spread, and from what region….Seeds fly faster on the wind than an ox on foot!” Headmaster Duncan leaned forward and put his head in his hands. The weight of his concern seemed to darken the room, or perhaps it was the heaviness of the clouds outside of the window. “Was there anything more you needed, Lori? I have a busy day ahead.”
“Ah….” Lori paused. She shifted from one foot to another, wondering what more she could say. Had this all been a waste of time? “Cedric is still a patron of the seminary, I take it?” she ventured.
Duncan gave her a pointed stare. “He is. And we’ve moved past your little incident. But we can’t shelter you here, Lori. I won’t defend your name to him. He’s our most generous patron, and in a time like this, to lose that funding….”
Lori held up her hands. “I wasn’t asking to stay,” she said quickly.
Duncan seemed relieved. “Well, the Goddess has Her eyes on you, I’m sure,” he said. Then, more seriously, “I’d stay away from The Regency while you’re in the city.”
Lori nodded. Her throat tightened slightly. She rose from her chair. “Headmaster,” she said, and nodded formally.
He returned the gesture. “Healer Lorianne,” he said. “Good day, and I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for. Despite all that happened in the past, I am glad to see you alive and well.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I mean that.”
Lori smiled weakly. “Same to you, Duncan,” she said. Then she let herself out of the study.
Lori rejoined Ferran in the hallway outside. She shook her head wordlessly when she saw his curious expression. “I’ll tell you outside,” she murmured, and headed for the staircase in a dismal mood.
Her trip to the seminary felt like a complete waste of time. She saw no sign of the Shade or The Book of the Named. The Healers weren’t going to help them, and she doubted that the priestesses would be of much use, especially if they thought the plague was a natural illness. She also doubted that Sora and her companions would have much luck. The Temple of the North Wind would be overrun by more superstitious types—backwater farmers, river folk and villagers from the mountains. The priestesses would be too focused on tending the sick to actually look at the source of the disease. The Dark God could rise tomorrow and they probably wouldn’t know it.
Worse than a waste of time, Lori thought. Cedric Daniellian had seen her face-to-face. His tense silence still made her lungs constrict. She couldn’t let him see her again. As she went down the spiraling staircase, her mind suddenly jumped ahead to the seminary gates. Would he be waiting for her outside? Could the nobility truly hold a grudge for so long? From what she had witnessed among the upper tiers and her own shameful marriage to Lord Fallcrest, she believed the answer could be yes.
For a frantic moment, she considered taking a short hallway to the rear grounds. Surely Cedric wouldn’t look for her there….
When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Ferran touched her shoulder unexpectedly. She jumped.
“Steady now,” he laughed. “You’re gnawing a hole through your lip. You’re thinking too hard, my dear.”
Lori looked around the flagstone foyer at the solid oak door that led to the courtyard. “Do you think Cedric is still on the grounds?” she asked.
Ferran frowned. “Most likely,” he said. “His family crest is stamped all over the building, and I think I saw his pleasure craft anchored at the docks. The Daniellians fund the seminary, don’t they?”
“Aye,” Lori said, still searching the hall. “Their family might as well own this place….You don’t think he’s waiting outside, do you?”
Perhaps it was her tone of voice, or the frantic way she glanced at the door, but Ferran took her chin in his hand and lifted her face so she was looking directly at him. “What’s wrong?” His tone deepened. “Do you know each other?”
“I knew him, but not very well,” Lori muttered. Besides trying to kill me, she thought to herself. She had worked at the Daniellian household for a year before running for her life. But she didn’t want Ferran to be concerned, since it was seven years in the past. Surely Lord Cedric would have moved on by now?
“Best just to avoid him, I think,” she said, pulling away. “Could cause complications. What if he recognizes you?”
Ferran studied her eyes for a moment longer. “I don’t care if he recognizes me,” he said bluntly. “But I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable.”
Lori stifled a sigh of relief.
They left down a separate staircase, through a wide kitchen and out onto the rear grounds. This part of the seminary was beautifully cultivated and landscaped with herb gardens, pumpkin patches, apple trees and blueberry bushes, not to mention countless rows of flowers, all turned a muted brown by winter frost. She saw a few patients sitting on stone benches; they appeared to have physical injuries, not the plague.
Lori follow
ed a familiar path through the garden into a trimmed row of trees. She recognized the few cracked flagstones along the path. The trees had grown, and the pumpkin patch had been moved to the other side of the orchard. She first came to the seminary at 21, homeless and wandering, to see if the Healers would take her in. At 27, she graduated from their ranks.
Then she met Lord Cedric Daniellian. After a few friendly encounters, he requested her to work at his estate tending his mother, who was wasting away from some sort of terrible stomach disease. Lady Daniellian had horrible pain, no matter what she ate or drank. Lori had never seen anything like it.
She treated Cedric’s mother as best she could, but it was hopeless to begin with….It was not negligence, a charge Lord Cedric eventually leveled against her.
They reached the rear wall of the seminary and exited through a small garden gate into the pine forest. Lori felt calmer once the thick trees surrounded her. Surely Cedric wouldn’t go to this much trouble to confront her. She had left the city years ago, time enough for old grudges to die, and the past to be laid to rest.
The forest path ended at a stone fountain. Ferran took the lead and started into the trees to cut through the forest to The Bath, then circle around to the seminary docks. Lori felt a little silly taking such a detour, but if Cedric wasn’t outside the seminary gates, he could be waiting for her on the road.
CHAPTER 11
Lori sucked in a quick breath when she caught sight of the docks. Despite their detour, sure enough, Lord Cedric Daniellian stood at the seminary’s small marina, accompanied by his footman. The two solemnly scanned the road, obviously waiting for someone’s approach. Her approach.
“Bells,” she muttered, watching them through the trees.
Ferran shoved his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat. “Why would dear Cedric be waiting out here?” His eyes traveled down to her. “For you, I assume?”
Lori cringed behind a tree, then stood up straight. She was a strong woman now, not that scared girl who fled the seminary. She would have to confront Cedric if they were to leave these docks.