82. Gareth

That night, I lit a candle and read Gareth Pope’s journal in bed, borrowing one of the kittens from Maureen to keep me company overnight, a tabby with a need for attention.

The litter had been adopted by the majority of the second level staff rooms and dormitories, officers’ children feeding them milk and bits of fish.

They found their way into different rooms, mostly the ones on the Pikestully side, so they could sun themselves in whatever shafts of sunlight streamed in the narrow windows not covered by animal skins.

I was close to the end of Gareth’s story, still unsure of his fate.

I had delayed completing my reading as I had a suspicion the ending was not a happy one.

I knew this day would come.

He would have to marry some woman and it be that Sibbereen horse girl.

The engagement will be announced in a moon.

He tells me the marriage is for heirs only and that it affects us not at all.

We had our first true quarrel.

Words were said that cannot be recanted.

How can he say he loves me and do this to us? I am without a heart now.

He broke mine.

In this quarrel, I reminded him that he was the most powerful sea Tintarian in ages, even that southern marshland girl does not have half his penchant.

He is the prince and will be king.

He can live the life he wants to.

He turned my words on me, telling me I only remained in the infantry as a disguise of my true self, that I did not have the pluck to fully commit to Mother Earth.

When my ire had subsided, I asked him what it mattered to him.

And he said, and I knew this to be evasion, that the two most powerful Tintarians, one blessed by each goddess, would be unstoppable.

I asked if he meant he would be mine if I fully committed to my goddess.

And he just repeated his words.

I railed at him, accusing him of evading my heart and my need to have him.

I dared him to love me out in the open.

And he dared me to fully embrace my blessing.

I have reached the end of the rope.

I have been riven by him.

I am not myself.

There is but one last key to unlock this door.

And I must use it.

I have further researched and meditated and I know more than I did moons ago when I first sailed around the drake rocks with him.

My left hand will deliver them into my grasp and render my love inescapable and my right hand will command them, showing my lover and this whole godsdamned country who I am.

Who could reject the master of the stone drakes? I go to the bluffs this eve.

I will claim my love and my power.

And I will return victorious.

I shut the book.

The last entry was a conundrum.

What did he mean by his left hand delivering the stone drakes into his grasp? What would that accomplish? Did he believe Hinnom would have broken his engagement if Gareth demonstrated prolific earth magic? And I did not understand Hinnom saying that the two most powerful Tintarians, one blessed by each goddess, would be unstoppable.

I slept fitfully without my husband and woke in the morning with the tabby kneading my bosom.

I gave her some jerky I had stored in the desk for any kitten that happened upon our room and tried to ready myself for the day, despite my angst over Alric and confusion over the journal.

It was a cold day and after bathing, I donned my winter dress and a pair of long woven leggings I had found in Alric’s wooden chest.

I tied my shawl over my chest.

While seated at our usual table, my thoughts still with Gareth Pope, I saw River and Quinn stop and speak to one of the tables of sea temple staff before joining us and looking at their cerulean garb, I remembered something from one of his earlier entries.

I should look to the newest priestess of Sister Sea as my example.

She is but nineteen winters, gifted and dedicated.

Her name is Thalia and she hails from some backwoods nothing town in the south.

“Quinn,”

I began as she sat down near me, my words low, “how difficult is it to secure an audience with Thalia? I have a question for her.”

My friend lifted a brow.

“I sense you do not want to confess why you want one.”

“You are always perceptive.”

“She is quite approachable for an archpriestess.

But she is beset by work.”

I nodded.

“I know.

Sea is always busy.

You must see hundreds of fisherman a day.”

“It is closer to dozens, but it feels like hundreds.

These people do not pay that high of taxes, but their bookkeeping is so behind the advancements of Eccleston.”

Quinn eyed me again.

“Come with me to the temple.

You can be late to your duties at earth?”

“I can,”

I said, thinking Cian’s recent offer of assistance would mean he would be lenient.

After breakfast, I walked with Quinn and River to the sea temple which was laid out much like the earth temple, but the antechamber was crowded with twice the desks and twice the staff.

A line of fisherman and other such workers stretched out into the corridor.

“Is it always this busy?” I asked.

Quinn grimaced but River cheerily said, “Oh yes, the work is never done,”

as if she could not be happier scribing.

“And, Edie, every day I learn something new about fish.”

I exchanged a look with Quinn who shook her head, smiling.

After River sat down at her desk, seeming to thrill at the sight of a stack of paper on it, Quinn guided me into the temple itself and I was enthralled by the idol inside.

Cian’s office door, which acted as our earth idol, had been carved in that blush-colored wood.

The idol of Sister Sea was a mermaid twice the size of a human woman made entirely of innumerable shells and dried coral, all welded together by white mortar.

Her tail was long and curling, weaving down and then back up to create a circle her frame was balanced upon, the wide fin held behind her body.

Behind the idol was a small door that must have led into Thalia’s inner chamber.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?”

Quinn asked.

“No.

She is impressive.

Do you know what the air and fire idols are?”

“Air has no idol, but fire is a bronze man made of flame.”

I shook my head.

“I confess.

I am a practical woman, but I am entranced by Tintar.”

“So am I,”

she agreed.

“I think we can chance it with Thalia. Come.”

We walked down the aisle together, ascending the steps to the mermaid idol and behind.

Quinn knocked on the small door.

A call to enter came and she pulled it open by its iron handle which was in the shape of a tentacle.

Thalia’s office was similar to Cian’s, a desk and a wall of books, but there were piles of paper and scrolls all over the floor.

The chair across from her chair was stacked with ledgers.

“Oh, good morn, Quinn,”

said the woman.

Her regal frame lounged in her chair as she flitted through a ledger, her many rings winking in the weak sunlight that streamed in from the sides of the skin over her window, the sounds of Pikestully in the distance.

There was a tin plate of pear slices next to the ledger.

“Good morning, archpriestess,”

my friend said.

“Thalia,”

said the woman.

“I told you.

Many times, in fact.

My gods, woman, you are proper.”

She had yet to look up from her work, but she smiled.

“Thalia,”

began Quinn.

“Would you have a moment to spare for Edie?”

At my name, Thalia looked up, eyes honed in on me.

“Ah.

The Lady Edie.

Both blessed by Saint Agnes and Mother Earth.

Lucky woman.”

Her gaze was intense.

I thought she must have been a striking woman in her youth, so tall and stately.

Her short white hair had just enough curl in it to sweep off her forehead in a wave.

Her cerulean robe brought out the cooler colors in her eyes. “Sit,”

she said, pointing to the chair with the ledgers.

In an attempt to show respect, I said, “I can stand—”

“Sit!”

she repeated and then rolling her eyes, she said, “put them anywhere you can find the room.

I can’t even remember what in hell they are.

Quinn, I will see you later.”

My friend placed her hand briefly on my shoulder and left, closing the door behind her.

I removed the stacks of ledgers, gingerly setting them on yet other stacks and then took my seat across from the archpriestess, who had returned to her reading.

I sat waiting for her to finish.

“Well,”

she said, tossing the ledger with a thud onto the desk, causing the plate of pears to skid to one side and a tin cup of pen nibs to scatter across the floor, one of the nibs landing in my lap.

“Shit.

Never mind.

Do not pick them up! It doesn’t matter.”

I straighten from the lean I had begun to collect them.

“Why do you visit Sister Sea today, madam?”

she said, her eyes on me sharp again, drawn to the hagstone and chain at my throat, peeking out from my shawl’s tie.

“I have a strange request.”

“If I had a silver for every time I heard those words.

Out with it! I do not believe in the word ‘strange’ for it is a word used by tedious people.”

I smiled.

“Forgive my being abstruse.

I will ask my question and then if you have any questions in response, I will answer, but to save your time, I will ask my question first.

Perhaps you have no interest in my reason for asking.

Do you know the name Gareth Pope?”

Her mouth opened slightly and then closed. “I do.”

She remained silent.