Chapter Fifteen: The Scholars of the Cardinal Fane

  Chadwick returned as planned the following day. His clothes were muddy, and his beard had grown in patchy, but there was a looseness to his gait that Ean hadn’t seen before. He deposited a string of quail into Flora’s hands with a grin and a wink, then grabbed his spare clothes and headed for the river to bathe.

  Ean helped Asali and Leo pluck the birds and Flora put them on a spit to roast. When Chadwick returned, he looked more like himself with carefully fluffed hair, a cleanly shaved face, and spotless clothes. He sat beside the group, his courtly posture back in place, and shared his travels while the birds cooked. Despite covering a great distance, he hadn’t found any signs of a road or pathway. And while he’d stumbled across the remains of a few ancient homesteads, he’d seen no evidence of any current civilization. Leo told him about Ean’s suggested path, and he agreed that route had as good a chance as any to reach to the Scholars. He studied the map on the altar and determined it to be a four-day trip, possibly five considering the terrain.

  “We’ll have to pare down our packs,” he said. “We take only what we can comfortably carry.”

  “I’d like to leave tomorrow,” Leo said, then to Chadwick, “as long as you’re up for it.”

  Chadwick looked offended that he had even asked.

  With the plan in place, the group dug into the meal. Ean felt a strange twist in his stomach as he ate. It wasn’t the quail; it was nerves. What if he had misremembered what Felix had said? What if the saying had nothing to do with the riddle on the altar? He told himself it didn’t matter, that the worst thing that would happen is they would waste a few of days travel. It was a logical thought. It did nothing to ease his anxiety.

  He woke at dawn to practice a few dances before helping the others break camp. They left the ponies and the tent in the clearing and started into the mountains. Chadwick led the way, a sketch of the map in hand. Travel was difficult. The forest was thick, and the mountains were steep. The air got colder as they ascended, and while it felt good against Ean’s face, his hands and feet went numb. It made him clumsy. His fingers struggled to grip handholds as they climbed. His feet skidded out from under him a couple of times. He wasn’t the only one feeling the cold. Flora nearly slid off a rock face on the second day; only Chadwick’s quick grab saved her. Asali dropped her pack down a ravine on the third day and they spent an hour retrieving it.

  On the morning of the fifth day, they spotted a long ridge of gray rock that stretched out above the trees like a wall of stone. The peaks were jagged and sharp, some tipped with snow. Chadwick pointed at a narrow gap in the stone, the only passage through to the other side.

  “That’s where your map said to go,” he told Ean. “We’ll reach it this afternoon.”

  It looked farther to Ean, but he’d learned to trust Chadwick’s instincts about distance. He’d also learned to keep his opinions to himself, so when afternoon came and they arrived at the pass, no one knew Ean had doubted the estimate. Although, judging by the smirk on Chadwick’s face, he may have guessed.

  Asali reached the top first, stopping short in surprise. Ean ran to join her and stopped just as quickly. Below them was a startlingly green and fertile valley, so green it looked out of place against the gray of the mountains around them. A village nestled inside the valley. Was it more magic, like the orchard in the clearing, or had some divine force lifted a tropical island out of the ocean and dropped it into the mountains by mistake?

  On the west edge of the valley, a waterfall dropped from the cliffs, forming a vibrant blue pool. A narrow river meandered away from it, cutting through the village that had been built of dark wood and thatch. Pathways of white stone ran between the buildings, then converged into one larger road that led to the east where a large temple rose into the air.

  The valley wasn’t particularly large, but every inch of it had been put to use. An orchard hemmed in one side of an animal pen. Tomatoes and beans grew up the fence that ran the length of the river. Grape vines clung to trellises that shaded colorful flower gardens. The northern mountainside had been carved into shallow steppes to allow for more growing space. Ean could see rows of vegetables, wheat, and even a rice paddy.

  People moved about in the village. Some tended to the fields, some cared for the animals, and others walked to and from the temple. Ean had pictured the Northern Villa as a monastery or collegium. He hadn’t expected an entire village, and certainly not one this size. From the number of houses and size of the gardens, at least two hundred people lived here.

  “By the Son,” Leo whispered, coming alongside them. He stared for a moment then turned to Ean, a smile spreading across his face. “You found it.”

  The pride Ean felt was quickly smothered by trepidation. Their last encounter with a village hadn’t gone well. He pulled Leo back a step. “We should wait a day. Let me check things out.”

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  “Might not be a bad idea,” Asali agreed. “The Scholars didn’t leave Eastmere on good terms.”

  “I don’t think it matters at this point,” Chadwick said. He pointed at a building in the center of the valley, a tall, narrow tower that spiked several stories into the air. It was a watchtower, and it was pointed directly at the pass. “Odds are, they’ve already seen us.”

  “I guess we might as well say hello.” Leo grinned, like he was excited at the prospect of walking into a secret city full of strange, exiled people. He started forward. Ean reached out to stop him, but he ducked under his grasp.

  “Dark stars,” Ean swore and then moved to overtake him. If Leo was going to walk heedlessly into danger, Ean was going first.

  The path down into the valley was a gentle slope carved along the mountainside. There were no trees or rocks to hide them from view, and as they descended, the rocky ridges surrounding the valley seemed to grow taller, closing them in. The temple loomed larger, a real and present threat.

  They reached the valley floor. Leo showed no hesitation as he stepped onto the paved road, forging further into the village. There was a woman up ahead, perched on the side of a sheep pen, carding wool. She wore a brown short-sleeved robe that wrapped over an undergarment of lavender. Ean flexed his hands, fighting back the urge to grip the hilts of his long knives. The woman made no move to get up as they approached, but she nodded her head in welcome. Leo nodded back.

  Further up the road, a man in a similar uniform was resetting loose paving stones. He smiled a greeting and said, “They’re waiting for you in the temple.”

  “Who is?” Ean asked, hands flexing again.

  “The Council of Elders.”

  “Who—”

  Leo cut him off. “Thank you.”

  He kept walking and Ean was forced to keep up.

  “It wouldn’t hurt us to have some information before we waltz in,” Ean hissed into his ear.

  “It would hurt us to interrogate the citizens and make a nuisance of ourselves before we’ve even met their Elders,” Leo returned. His voice was stern, but he kept his expression pleasant. He smiled at the other people they passed—a gardener, a man carrying water, and two women bent over a couple of books. They all smiled back. Ean curled his hands into fists.

  They turned onto the road that led to the temple. The paving stones on this path had been painted to create a swirling mosaic of colors—the same colors that had been on the altar. Blue, green, purple, and yellow. Marble sculptures lined the walkway, life-like in size and detail. They were dressed in long robes and stared serenely down at them as they passed. Ean didn’t recognize any of their faces. He turned his attention to the temple. It was built of bluestone, and its fa?ade was surprisingly austere. The exterior walls were smooth, no relief sculptures or jamb figures engraved into the rock, no molding or carvings about the ledges and window frames. But the sheer size of the arched entryway demanded awe, as did the impossibly tall wooden doors that swung open as Ean and the others approached the front steps. Two women and a man stepped through the doorway. They wore the same brown robes as the other villagers. Ean paused for a moment to assess the threat. The others didn’t.

  Leo took a central position, Asali and Chadwick shifting to his right and left, each following Leo a half-step behind him. Flora fell into place two steps behind Leo, slightly to his right. Ean was temporarily distracted by their unspoken formation. Had they planned it in advance? It took him a second to realize that this was how they would enter a royal court.

  But this wasn’t a royal court. This was a town of exiled philosophical fanatics, and there were three unknown figures in the doorway and who knows how many more waiting for them inside. To hell with courtly. Ean ran up the stairs and elbowed Chadwick out of the way. He made a sound of protest. Ean shot him a glare and discreetly flicked his right wrist. His knife dropped into the palm of his hand. Chadwick saw the weapon, recognized the practicality of having a shadow-walker beside Leo, and shut up.

  The welcome party bowed as they reached the top of the stairs, and one of the women stepped forward.

  “We are the Scholars of the Cardinal Fane. We welcome you to the Northern Villa and to the Temple of the Wind.”

  “We thank you for receiving us,” Leo said.

  “Come.” The woman stepped to the side and gestured inward. “The Elders are eager to meet you.”

  Leo, once again, showed no hesitation as he entered the temple. Ean looked around more suspiciously. The ceilings in the main hall were as tall as the archway. Rectangular windows had been cut high on the walls to allow the sun to stream through and light the space. Great tapestries hung down the length of the walls, so intricately detailed that it was hard to pick out the stories they depicted.

  While the height of the ceilings was impressive, it also seemed pointless, not unless giants had once lived here. Ean craned his neck and tried to gauge the distance.

  Leo leaned over and whispered, “They used to have dragons here.”

  The thought made Ean stutter over a step. Dragons? Inside of a temple?

  The woman led the party to the end of the entry hall and another set of tall doors. She pushed them open, leaning hard against their weight, and ushered them into a circular room. The ceiling was lofted and domed at the top. Long, narrow windows lined the walls and sheer curtains of lavender wafted in the afternoon breeze. Seven figures in white robes sat on a low dais in the middle of the room. Their chairs were plain dark wood, short and squat. The chair in the center had dragons carved onto the armrests, lending it distinction from the others.

  They were led to the foot of the dais. The low rise of the platform, and the shortness of the chairs, meant that Ean and the others stood taller than the seated Scholars. It made the Elders less threatening, and yet it signaled their importance. It was a clever trick.

  The man in the center chair leaned forward. “Not many have found the Temple of the Wind.” He said it lightly, like he was commenting on the weather.

  “Not many leave the Temple of the Wind,” said the man to his left.

  His tone was darker, a clear threat. Ean dropped his other knife into the palm of his hand and glanced towards the exits.