The Bonds of Blood (30 page)

Grace smiled. “Fair enough, child, fair
enough.”

“Can you tell me anything about it?”
Angelica asked quietly, not sure if the mere speaking of it would
bring back undesirable memories for the old lady. “Why was it named
Lunimara? And what does Lunimara actually mean?”

Grace heaved. “Very well. It was so
named by the elves. The name Lunimara is elvish meaning ‘Mirror of
the Moon.’ That is the reason you will often hear me refer to it as
such, for Mirror of the Moon is the common tongue for the building.
The name Lunimara is a very apt one, for the building really is
like a mirror to the moon as it reflects the stages of the moon. As
you can imagine it is much easier to find this building on the
nights of the full moon.” Grace sighed then, and her eyes took on a
look of remembrance.

“But I don’t understand,” Angelica
pressed. “Why would they be taking Amber there? What warrants such
an extreme act such as taking her to this temple, and wouldn’t they
be found? If it is such an extraordinary place, and people from all
around go there to worship, wouldn’t they find Amber and her
captor?”

Grace shook her head. “No,” she
answered simply. “The Mirror of the Moon is no longer used as a
temple. It has remained empty since the time of Pharoh and
Sylvie.”

“But why? Why would such a place
suddenly stop being used? If it is so revered then it would still
be used unless something horrible happened there,
right?”

“Indeed,” Grace agreed, looking down at
her hands.

“Then what happened?” Angelica asked
and in the moment she asked it she realized they were right back
where they started. “I am sorry, Grace,” Angelica said. “I should
not have intruded on your past.”

“It is okay, child,” Grace said, laying
a forgiving hand on Angelica’s arm. “I will tell you in good time,
but at the moment I am not prepared. You must understand that. The
road is no place for me to recount such painful memories. Rest
assured in knowing that I will tell you in time.”

Angelica only nodded.

Jovian let out a whoop when the fire
finally lit, and Grace took that as her queue to start fixing
dinner.

As the old lady left Angelica alone on
the rock, the younger woman decided that it was most likely time to
do some damage control. With a sigh, she stood and crossed the camp
to Joya. Crossing her arms, she waited for Joya to finish smoothing
out her bedroll.

“What?” Joya said indifferently, not
looking up from her work in an attempt to avoid eye
contact.

“I just wanted you to know that I was
not lying earlier. I had forgotten about that … dream.” Angelica
knelt down beside her sister. “I hope you know that I would never
hold information back about Amber. If I could have remembered the
name of the place I had dreamt of sooner I would have said
something.”

“Why didn’t you say that you had a
dream that contained information as to where she was then?” Joya
said, gazing at Angelica as she angrily jerked blankets around in
an attempt to smooth them. It didn’t work. Angelica took up one
corner and helped her.

“I didn’t know,” she said weakly. “I
could remember that I had a dream that had information in it that
most likely would help us, but I didn’t know what the information
was until last night. I swear to the Goddess that I said something
as soon as I knew it.” She shifted uncomfortably.

Joya didn’t comment; she didn’t even
look at Angelica. Instead she continued jerking around the
blankets.

“Whatever,” Angelica said under her
breath frustrated, “I just wanted you to know what was really going
on so you would stop being angry for no good reason.”

“I am not angry,” Joya said a little
too acidly for the words to convince Angelica of her sincerity. “I
have a lot on my mind at the moment, you know.”

“I understand that you have a lot on
your mind, but don’t lie, Joya. Contemplation might be what staves
your tongue, but anger is what makes your shoulder cold to
me.”

“I am not lying,” Joya screamed,
throwing the blankets aside as she stood.

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and
your childishness now is your concern for what you are going
through, is it?” She stood again, crossing her arms in a dangerous
sign that warned she was getting agitated.

Angelica could see the anger in the set
of Joya’s mouth. She could see the animosity fleeting over her
face. However, what staggered Angelica was the apparent hate in
Joya’s eyes.

“Joya?” Angelica said taking a step
back. “What is wrong with you?”

Joya’s face was scarlet. “I hate being
accused of lies, Angelica, so back off.”

Angelica was distantly aware of Grace
throwing a handful of copal into the fire, and in no time the
soothing scent rose with the smoke, washing over them all. Almost
instantly the hatred evaporated from Joya’s eyes, though the
agitation remained.

“Angelica, I am sorry,” Joya said
suddenly as if she were now a totally different person. She reached
out a hand to Angelica to soothe over what she had done, but it was
too late. Angelica was deeply hurt, not by what Joya had said, but
by the rage sparking in her eyes, hate directed toward her at that
moment.

“It’s fine, Joya,” Angelica said
holding her hands up. “It’s done, and this is me backing off.”
Angelica pivoted on her heel and walked over to her bedroll to sit
down.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

_“W
ill you help me with
this?”
Joya asked Angelica as she bent over
the rabbits on the table, and Jovian arranged the wood in the
fireplace.

It had been early in the evening when
Grace found another way station for them, and decided after looking
at the tumultuous sky that it would be wise to accept this comfort
while they could.

Angelica joined Joya in scrutinizing
the carcasses. The two of them were still not really on speaking
terms, though they would occasionally say brief things to each
other, like they were doing now, commenting on stuff that made no
difference by and large.

“Where do you think she is?” Jovian
asked. He lit the fire then stood to peer out the thin window that
overlooked the road. Grace had led them through the brush to the
way station, and then dropped them off and turned back to the road
grunting something to them about being followed. Before they could
take up their place behind her, the old lady had set
off.

That was hours ago.

“I don’t know,” Angelica said as she
helped Joya skin the rabbits Jovian had hunted for their
dinner.

Jovian frowned and paced the way
station.

A bright flash of lightning announced
the coming of the storm moments before the thunder rumbled like an
angry beast through the sky, and fat drops of rain began falling
heavily on the roof.

“I am going to clean up,” Jovian
croaked.

“Angelica, I am sorry,” Joya said
quietly a few moments later when she was sure that Jovian could not
hear them.

“Don’t worry about it, Joya.” Angelica
sensed that something wasn’t right, that their moods were being
influenced by something greater than themselves.

“No, I do worry about it because every
once and a while I get these feelings, this anger. I can’t explain
it.” Joya shook her head as if to accent how at a loss the emotions
made her feel.

“Do you think it is the wyrd?” Angelica
asked a few moments later.

Joya frowned. “I don’t know what else
it could be.”

Angelica did. She wouldn’t voice what
she thought, though. Her sister’s face had changed right before her
eyes, changed as if she had been taken over by another force. As if
she was possessed. Angelica did not want to think about the
prophecy of the Mask, but having seen the duality that came over
her sister’s face so quickly, she couldn’t help her mind from
wandering where it would inevitably go.

“Has it occurred to you that we have no
idea what we are doing?” Joya asked, frustrated as she held up her
half skinned rabbit.

Angelica couldn’t help it as she burst
out laughing. “Yes, Joya, that thought did occur to me.”

Joya flopped the rabbit around like it
was doing a little dance, grinned, and then set back to work. “At
least Jovian gutted them.”

Dinner came and went, and the three of
them were sitting at the table idly passing the time with light
conversation, all of them worried about where Grace had disappeared
to.

Suddenly in a boom of thunder the door
burst open, making Angelica and Joya jump and Jovian
scream.

The rain sheeted in relentlessly, and
from out of the darkness came a tall, darkly cloaked figure. His
trousers and tunic were soaked to his well muscled form, and all
around him hung various weapons, some none of them had ever seen
the likes of before.

Behind the man came a short old woman
that all of them recognized immediately.

“I found this lack wit a few miles back
making camp when he easily could have joined us.” She scowled at
him and cuffed him upside the head as he removed the hood of his
cloak, and his face came into view.

“I thought he was going to be a
votary,” Jovian protested crossing his arms. Somehow he was able to
look menacing even after the shriek he had just let out. “Why does
he look like some legendary hero?” he whispered the last to
Angelica. By the look on his face, Maeven had heard what Jovian
said.

“Maeven
is
going to be a votary, Jovian,”
Grace said simply, leading the other man to the fire where she
handed him a plate of roasted rabbit, bread, and cheese. “He is
also the expert on dalua and arms in Meedesville.” Grace shook out
her cloak, hung it by the fire, and helped Maeven out of
his.

Jovian scoffed thinking the only weapon
they were likely to see in Meedesville was a pitchfork. “Wow,” he
whispered sarcastically to Angelica, turning away from the fire so
that Grace could not see his lips moving. “Maeven is a
Jack-of-all-trades now, isn’t he? I suppose next she is going to
tell us he is one of the fabled druids from the Realm of
Earth?”

“Don’t be silly, sunshine,” Jovian
heard from directly over his shoulder. He could tell from the heat
along his back that Maeven was standing rather close to him, and
had most likely heard everything he had just said. “I don’t have a
lick of wyrd in me. Don’t worry though, I wouldn’t think of
intruding on your manly camp duties. I will stand back and let you
run the show.” Jovian could tell from the sound of his voice that
Maeven was smirking, making fun of him. Jovian was infuriated. “You
won’t even know I am here,” he continued.

Jovian stalked off to the back of the
way station desperately wishing he could leave, but instead he
settled for slumping down on a cot, glowering at the
wall.

“Awe,” Maeven went on as he scooped
some of the rabbit into his mouth. “He is all tuckered out; looks
like screaming is quite the work out.”

“That is enough,” Grace
scolded.

“So,” Grace said when they had both
finished their meals and pushed their plates away. “What was the
great upset in Meedesville that we were not able to
catch?”

“It was that constable from the Ivory
City, her name was Madalinda,” he said still examining his dirty
fingernails.

“Well, what about her?” Grace said
puffing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“She was murdered.”

“How?” Grace asked.

“I’m sorry?” Maeven creased his
eyebrows as if he did not understand the question.

“How was she killed?” Grace asked with
a huff.

“We couldn’t tell. There were no
outward marks on her body, though her hair was considerably
grayer.

Grace looked at him intently,
feverishly, almost frightened.

“Why?” Maeven asked, but Jovian read
the look on Grace’s face. He could tell the same thoughts he was
having were mirrored in her mind.

“What about Beckindal?” Jovian
asked.

“Excuse me?” Maeven asked.

“The Verax-Acis that she had with her,”
Jovian said.

“I don’t know; I assume that he was
sent back to the Ivory City. Why?” Maeven asked, but Jovian did not
answer, only frowned.

“You assume?” Grace asked. “You did not
see him collected? You did not see him taken away in the caged
wagon? Did not see officials come from the Ivory City to gather
him?”

“No,” Maeven frowned, “I didn’t see any
of that. I imagine he was being kept in the jail until they came; I
left only a few days after you guys. I am sure they just had not
arrived yet, or that they had not yet received news of her
death.”

“
They have rojo, Maeven,”
Grace reminded him. “They can travel in the blink of an eye with
the use of such teleportation systems as that. After all, they have
to have better, quicker means of traveling than mere horses can
provide.” Grace sighed out a puff of smoke.

Maeven frowned. “I don’t understand
what the upset is about. Madalinda is dead; the Verax-Acis is in
the jail awaiting officials from the Ivory City to come for
him.”