Chapter Thirty Adela #2
Her question is cut off. “Adela?” I do not even turn before Dad is there, wrapping thick arms around us both. Cecelia pulls away, and he squeezes me tight, kissing the top of my head. I’m transported to a time when I always felt safe and loved. Before Mom left.
“The goddess be praised. You came home. I… I thought I’d lost you forever. But why are you here?” He pushes back some of the pale strands of hair that have fallen out of my braids during the long night. He does not stop looking at me when he says, “And who have you brought with you?”
“Someone had to bring Tani home.” I lean my cheek into his hand. “Ujvala and Kian helped.”
“Tani?”
“The foal. Etana’s baby girl.”
The lines beside his eyes crinkle. “Tani suits her.”
I stand up straighter, and open up so I can properly introduce him to Ujvala. She steps forward, and I gesture to her with a flourish. “Ujvala knew the path through the boundary. She’s part of the family that used to bring us goods. Kian is her nephew.”
“The family that used to bring us goods,” Dad says with a knowing look, and puts out his hand. He and Ujvala grip forearms in greeting. But he continues talking to me. “Being part of a smuggling family makes a lot more sense than the boy being a priest.”
I glance at Kian, who just shrugs in acknowledgment. Sometimes it’s good to be seen.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast, and you can tell us the details of why they took the foal, how you brought her home, and what you need.” Dad leads the way home.
On the windowsill above the kitchen sink sits a solitary candle, gently flickering in the soft morning sunlight.
An ache of recognition flows through me.
We’d lit a candle for mom for years after she’d disappeared.
A tiny symbol of hope that she would find her way back to us in time.
Only she never did and eventually we put away the candle and let go of that hope.
Dad makes tea and coffee while I scramble eggs and toast bread. There are conversations that need to happen, soon, before Kian and I are missed, but for this one brief moment we spread butter and fresh raspberry jam over thick slices of toast and savor every bite.
After we eat, Cecelia runs to fetch Petra, who will need to be a part of the negotiations and next steps with Ujvala. Probably all the elders ought to be called, but the more unnoticed our presence is, the better, until we can figure out what’s next.
Because whatever our futures hold, they are not going to look the same.
I cannot simply go back to trying to fit in as a Huntress novitiate, not now that I know the truth about the lengths Sarai will go to.
But I also don’t know there is a place for me any longer here in the valley.
Besides Etana, there are no skulls to match, and even if there were, I don’t know that I’d match them to the orders.
At least, not to the Huntress while Sarai is high priestess.
If she’s willing to use a defenseless creature on her path to access my magic, what else is she capable of?
“The fields of wheat and flowers are far more mature than they ought to be at this time of year. And the creatures seem… lively.” I say, as we wait for Petra.
“The valley is coming back to us,” Dad says, cleaning up. “The creatures are stirring. ‘Lively’ is a word for it. They’re wilder than they’ve ever been in my lifetime, and more active. Hunting more. Breeding more. We have a bunch of new pregnancies.”
Petra comes into the house with Cecelia on her heels and picks up on the conversation without even a pause, as unflappable as ever.
Cecelia must have filled her in on the short walk over.
“Foliage is growing at tremendous rates. Much earlier and faster than it has in decades.” She pours herself a mug of tea, adding honey, and sits down at the table.
“What’s changed?” I ask.
“The skulls, we think,” Cecelia answers. “When the matching hut burned, all of the magic of those skulls returned to the land. That’s the only thing we can tell that’s different.”
Beside me, Kian shifts oddly in his seat. His face is tight, his eyes dart to the floor before quickly meeting mine and then skirting away again. But there’s something in the set of his jaw—something guarded—that makes my stomach tighten. Maybe he’s eager to get back to Insborough.
While Dad, Ujvala, and Petra begin to talk through what trade would look like, Cecelia silently gestures outside.
I stand to go with her, also wanting a few moments away from everyone.
I’m not sure how much she’s shared with whom about what she found in the paintings, but this is the other reason I needed to come to the valley.
To find out if I can still be a matcher.
Which means facing Etana’s skull.
Kian stands to come with us, but I wave him off. Seeing Etana again, discovering whether or not I can hear her, is… I don’t know. Too hard with a witness who doesn’t fully understand the bond we shared.
He sulks a little bit, but sits back down with the others.
Cecelia and I step outside and sit on the railing of the small front porch like we used to when we were kids.
It’s a bit more difficult to balance on as adults, but worth the effort.
I love watching the valley wake up, especially in springtime.
We sit in silence for a few long moments, just absorbing the day.
But mere moments are all we have. I stand. “Would you take me to Etana? I want to see how much truth there is in those paintings you sent.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I adore Cecelia. She’s methodical. She thinks through things slowly. She makes sure she understands everything. And then she’s all in, headfirst. Just like me.
She leads me through the great hall and to the library. I don’t understand for a moment why we’re here, but then I notice a small shelf of plain aspen masks just outside the library door. She picks one up and puts it on.
“Is this where you’re keeping the skulls?”
“Skull,” she corrects, making sure her mask is tight. Until I matched, I don’t think anyone actually believed a keeper would match with one of the skulls. I proved the centuries of caution worthwhile.
“They’re working on rebuilding the matching hut, but lumber is scarce at the moment, as are laborers. Everyone who’s free is busy planting.”
And it’s not as if the voice of one skull would be terribly disturbing even to those who hear them most loudly. I stand outside the library door, waiting for Cecelia to go first. I’m afraid.
She’s also hesitating, with her hand on the doorknob. “So… before we find out what you can do or not, I wanted to explain one more thing. About the matching hut.” She finds her words carefully. “Lathai didn’t destroy it.”
“What do you mean? Of course he did. The storm. The lightning. How else would it burn?”
She shakes her head. “It took some time, but I found records where keepers and the orders worked together to document the scope of magic, both in living creatures and their skulls. It really is only dragon fire that can destroy them. Like we always believed.”
This doesn’t make any sense. Ulric is the only dragon-wearer, and he would never intentionally destroy the matching hut. But then again, he stole Tani and threatened her under Sarai’s direction. Could someone else have manipulated him? Or is there some reason Sarai would want the hut destroyed?
I shake my head. Whatever the cause, it doesn’t truly matter at the moment.
The hut being gone ultimately helped the valley, returning magic to the land.
And while it might hurt the orders, that doesn’t feel so dire, now that the living creatures and the valley are prospering.
The orders can figure out their own paths to the future.
Right now, I don’t have a lot of time, and I need to know if I can hear the skulls.
Starting with Etana.
My palms begin to sweat, and I wipe them on my borrowed clothes. I don’t know why I’m anxious. Etana is dead. I will never scratch her head or place my hand on her ribs to sync our breathing. I cannot harm her further.
Cecelia turns the knob and begins to open the library door, but I catch her shoulder.
“Does Beadda hear her?” I ask before I go in. “Or anyone else?”
“Even I hear her.” Cecelia isn’t terribly attuned to skulls, so this is a good sign. She reaches up and squeezes my hand. “Whatever faces you, you will handle. Just like you do everything.”
“Would we say handle? Survive it, maybe.”
“So? You’re authentic. You have big feelings.
And you also have great instincts.” Cecelia drops the doorknob and faces me.
I can’t see her expression past her mask, but I can clearly hear the sincerity in her voice.
And besides, Cecelia doesn’t lie. “You’re clever.
You see the world as it is. And yeah, sometimes you’re angry.
But suppressing anger doesn’t make us good.
Horrible, horrible things happen. We should be angry about them. ”
She flings open the door and holds out her arm. An invitation. “Trust yourself.”
I’m not brave enough to step through, but I also can’t walk away. I have to move forward. I can manage whatever awaits me. Maybe not calmly. Maybe not with grace. But chaotic progress is better than inaction.
I take a deep breath and step inside.
There, in the middle of a tall shelf, is my Etana. Warmth, welcome, and glee flow to me. I hurry to the shelf and lift her to my chest, practically bursting. I can hear her.
I sit at the table, and position the skull in my lap, silently thanking the great goddess. “I wish I had ointments or oils,” I say aloud, more to myself than Cecelia. Polishing the bones is the best way to commune with them.
“Oh! I do!” She fetches a couple of vials from a tucked-away shelf and brings them over. I open one, and a horrible smell that is both vaguely sweet and rancid, like fruit that’s been left in the sun too long, fills my nose. I stopper it quickly.
“What is that?”
“Erm… overripe comfrey. Beadda and I wanted to experiment a bit. Since we don’t have any of the recent matcher notes. We’ve been using recipes I found in that one matcher’s journal; she’s got some unusual recipes.”
“If by ‘unusual’ you mean ‘gross,’ ” I reply.
We both laugh.
Goddess, I missed her.
In life, Etana loved rolling around in the poppy fields or sleeping under the lilac bushes.
I go through the rest of the vials and jars until I find something light and floral.
I polish the bone, rubbing in the ointment while whispering to her.
Contentment flows through me. Hers, and my own.
I’m so grateful for the sound of her. It’s different from what it was, but perfect.
Emotion flows through me. Gratitude for the care. Delight at the scent I’ve chosen. And then, forgiveness.
She knows me. I place my cheek against her brow, just beneath her horn, and wish, for only a moment, that I could match with her. If all of this had to happen, why not with my star sister?
Etana and I sit with each other, feelings flowing back and forth between us.
I do my best to tell her about Tani, and am shocked when she seems to understand.
The resonance of communicating with Etana is so much different than it was with the other skulls.
A lower sort of murmur. Quieter but clearer, as if before, the skulls had to shout at me to be understood and she can simply chatter to me.
Something about the sound—or feeling, I suppose—is familiar. But that’s impossible. I haven’t been near any unmatched skulls since I’ve matched, and I don’t hear the skulls of the other order members.
I nearly drop Etana’s skull when I realize. I’ve heard this kind of murmuring before. More quietly, as if they were far away, but also in orders of magnitude. In the temple.
With shaking hands, I place Etana back carefully, silently promising to return as soon as I possibly can. I nearly run back to Dad’s, my heart pounding hard, Cecelia’s footsteps heavy behind me. She doesn’t even have a moment to ask what’s happening.
I burst in through the kitchen door, startling the others at the table. “We have to go back. Immediately.”
They stare at me wide-eyed, but I can’t find the words to explain.
A cold, crawling fear steals my voice. The order, the temple, the high priestess—it’s all wrong.
Somewhere in the Temple of the Huntress is a hoard of skulls that should not exist—trapped, forgotten, abandoned.
I’m the only one outside of the valley who can hear them.
I have to find them. And save them.