Chapter 33
H ere it came. The crux of the matter. I still didn’t know where I was, who I was with, or to whom I spoke. I knew the chain of events that had sent me here in my tiring quest to find Moonswept. The mirror to the fairy, the fairy to the immortal warrior, the immortal warrior to the Jearim. I wanted to ask questions. I wanted to make inquiries. I wanted to ask why so many women and children? Where were the men? Why was this tribe so remote, so hidden? Why did they hold themselves apart from the rest of the realm? What protected them?
Clearly, living in their valley of white stone, they were in a defendable position. It would not take many warriors stationed atop the cliffs to render the valley well-nigh impregnable. Except, perhaps, from attacks by air. Only the Warkin with their flying beasts possessed that capability, to my knowledge.
I was curious about these people, whose simple wooden huts with thatched roofs, seats of polished rocks from the cliff walls, and colorful, bright garments proclaimed a humble, festive way of life that I could identify with. I smiled at the children who shyly reached out to touch my clothes, my hair, and my bag, murmuring amongst themselves in their distinct dialect. I chose to allow their inquisitiveness and to make no further inquiries of my hostess, reminding myself that I was the guest here and I needed her help, not the other way around.
“I should go back to the beginning,” I chuckled. “As I said, I am Lorna. I am Sanlyn, from the Jeweled Isles.”
“The Jeweled Isles.” A younger woman about my mother’s age came and squatted next to the older woman with whom I’d been speaking. I noticed she also wore her hair in a braided crown studded with colorful pebbles like gems. “Which sea boasts the Jeweled Isles?” she asked. “What folk be Sanlyn?”
“My daughter, Jyn,” the older woman smiled, reaching out to pat her daughter on the back. “I am Crina, the Miltasa of our tribe.”
“Is that…a queen?” I asked tentatively. “I would pay you the respect of your station.”
“My mother is Miltasa. Elder. The eldest soul in our tribe,” Jyn replied shortly. She was less warm, less welcoming than her mother, and I did not blame her. A complete stranger appearing out of thin air? She had cause to be suspicious. “We honor her as such. Now, stranger—Lorna—questions must be answered.”
“Of course,” I replied hastily, bowing my head in deference to both Jyn and her mother. “The Jeweled Isles lie in the South Seas, south of Laytrii, Aerisia’s capital. We are fisherfolk, merchants, and sea traders.”
Jyn nodded sharply. “How came you here? How came you to Brightstone? One moment, nothing. The next? You. By what magic came you here?”
I glanced at Crina, her mother, who still regarded me with a kind countenance. Since I’d already explained to her that the Simathe First had sent me, I waited to see if she would pass this information to her daughter. She didn’t. I realized that, although Crina, the mother, was honored as the tribe’s leader, it was Jyn through whom I must pass to gain help.
Flashing a smile at the children—more of whom kept gathering at every moment, lured by the sight of a strange-looking newcomer—I began to talk, telling the story of who I was and how I’d arrived in this magnificent valley.
During my recital, the children slowly backed away, having had enough of exploring my clothes and hair through touch, and sank onto the ground, cross-legged, absorbing my tale with wide, brown-green eyes and toothy, white smiles. Meigh had brought food—sliced fruit and coarse, hearty bread on a thick, broad leaf that served as a makeshift plate. While I talked, I ate, using my fingers, since no utensils had been offered.
I noted that, while the women and older girls listened to my story, they worked. Not one sat idle. They wove baskets, peeled and chopped fruit, stirred the pot over the fire, sharpened knives, or stitched and dyed bright fabric. Some of them had carried their work with them when they ran over. Some of the tasks had already been waiting here, beside the fire. The only two who did not work were Crina and Jyn, which I supposed was because these two would judge my tale and decide my fate.
Because of the children, I glossed over certain parts of the narrative, such as Kidron visiting my bed at night, albeit nothing physical had occurred. Still, I’d no wish to give the wrong impression or speak of things beyond the children’s years. Instead, I told a tale of falling in love with a stranger who turned out to be a dragon prince caught beneath a witch’s curse: a curse I’d vowed to break. My hunger was finally sated around the same time that I closed my story. I wiped my fingers on my pants, and one of the younglings hopped up to take the leaf and cast it into the closest fire. I smiled my thanks, before turning back to the two leaders.
“And that is why I am here,” I concluded. “I have traveled far, and still haven’t come far enough, for I know not the way to Moonswept, the Scraggen’s keep. It is east of the sun and west of the moon, wherever that may be. I’d hoped you might know where it lies.”
Jyn and her mother glanced at one another. A couple of the women in the group shifted in place—nervously, or anxiously, as if they wished to speak but restrained themselves.
Even the children had quieted, although I thought it was because of the seriousness of their mothers, rather than any understanding of their own. They still cast happy looks at one another, flashing smiles, and then one little lass, perhaps six or seven years of age, broke the silence by asking shyly,
“You really kissed a dragon?”
At this, the children broke into giggles and laughter, hiding their faces or their mouths in embarrassment at the mention of a kiss. I chuckled too, as did Crina, the Miltasa. Jyn’s mouth was firm. She was not smiling.
“Not the dragon itself,” I countered. “The dragon in his human form. Believe me—the dragon himself is so fearsome that no one would ever think to kiss him.”
The girl who had asked giggled again, but before any further inquiries could be made, Jyn thrust herself upright. She clapped her palms noisily, announcing, “Tell the Blinded goodbye, younglings. Off to your chores and lessons.”
Not one of them argued with her. I was fairly certain no one argued with Jyn. Although her mother was the queen figure, Jyn was clearly the power behind the throne. The older girls obeyed her as well, some of them grasping children’s hands and leading them away. Soon, all that remained were the older women and myself. Many of them, at Jyn’s sharp nod, dispersed, retreating to different portions of the village.
Finally, Jyn, who stood over me, a slight breeze ruffling her orange, purple, and yellow skirts, said, “We can help find Moonswept, Blinded. We be the Jearim, and the Jearim be the Mothers—the oldest living folk in Aerisia. Older than fairies. Older than Simathe. We be the keepers of knowledge and the holders of secrets. The Simathe First was right to send you to us.”
The Mothers? I remembered the dragon mentioning that name once before, referencing those who had assisted him.
“Then you can help?”
Finally! Hope broke over my soul like the first rays of dawn chasing away the night. Elated, I jumped up from my stone seat, clasping my hands in front of me.
“If there is anything you can tell me, I’d be forever grateful.”
“We can give you knowledge,” Crina affirmed, rising to her feet with less energy and considerably less grace than her daughter. Her hand went to the small of her back, and she winced before straightening all the way. “But it comes at a price. If the Jearim help you, Lorna of the Jeweled Isles, you must help the Jearim.”