The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3)

The Burning Stone (Crown of Stars #3) Page 211

“Where did it come from?” Theophanu asked. “Why does it haunt this place?”

“It has always been here. That is why I forbade your party to explore the crown.”

“You said it was a consecrated place, forbidden to any who are not sisters in this convent,” objected Adelheid. “You did not say it was haunted by such a creature!”

“Now you see why it is forbidden. We do not tell everything we know. Nor do we need to.”

Even a queen could look abashed. Adelheid did so now. “I beg your pardon, Mother. I’m sure you know better than we do in such matters.”

“Ancient knowledge must be guarded lest it fall into hands made rough by ignorance or ambition. Do you think we want a man like Lord John suspecting we have secrets hidden within these walls?”

“Like the knowledge of the Aoi,” murmured Rosvita, but Mother Obligatia had keen ears and now swung her walking stick off her thighs and rapped it once, sharply, on the floor. The sound rang with echoes in the cavern, and men jumped, startled. A murmur, a ripple of nervous chuckles, spread and settled.

“With old secrets it is better to be cautious. I would rather you not have known, because an ancient secret is like a great stone. Resting on the shore undisturbed it remains silent. Uprooted and cast into a still pond it creates strong ripples that alter the very fabric of the water and may even overset or wash away the net of life that flourished there.”

“I give you my word, Mother Obligatia,” said Adelheid. “You have shown us much generosity. I will never reveal your secret.”

“If any of Ironhead’s soldiers escaped after their attack last night, they will have a tale to tell. So be it.” She settled her stick over her thighs as if to indicate that the matter was closed. “Captain Fulk. Have a dozen of your men escort our visitor here. Be sure to blindfold him. What he does not know he cannot reveal to Lord John.”

Captain Fulk chose five men and went himself with one lamp. Because they had so little oil left them, Mother Obligatia suggested they wait in darkness, and no one was eager to object. With the lamp snuffed out, the darkness in the cavern was so profound that Rosvita could not see her hand held in front of her nose. She felt the chill of the stone as intensely as the fever of curiosity as she sat in the blackness with the rustle of nervous soldiers around her. What would Hugh say? How had he come to be here? How had he gotten The Book of Secrets! What was the creature that haunted the stone crown? Was it truly a daimone, and if so, what did a daimone look like? They were creatures of the aether who lived above the sphere of the moon, so how had it become trapped here below the moon? With what power had it killed the soldiers? Would it come in search of the rest of them, or did the crown itself contain it? And if the crown did contain it, then what property inherent in the stones could confine a creature of such power and unearthly provenance? And if so, did all stone crowns hold within themselves intrinsic magical properties? Was it even possible that poor Berthold had somehow been imprisoned within the stone crown above Hersford, instead of killed by a fall or a cave-in, as she had assumed? Was there truth in her dreams?

Theophanu shifted in her chair. Fortunatus coughed softly.

“Perhaps a song,” said Adelheid in a voice that the darkness made startlingly bright, like a sudden shaft of light that makes the eyes sting.

Tentatively at first and then more forcefully as the sound filled the echoing space, the soldiers began to sing: “To the Lady and to the Lord both light and dark are one.”

“I have been reading your History, Sister Rosvita,” said Mother Obligatia as the soldiers continued with a quiet tune composed of more secular sentiments: a lost love, a long journey.

“I fear it is incomplete. Had I time, and with your permission, I would consult your library to see what I could learn from any chronicles you may have here. Yet here in Aosta there is no reason why chronicles would contain records of the doings of the Wendish. No doubt my people are still considered barbarians to those who once ruled as part of the glorious Dariyan Empire.”

“Then it is well you are writing their history, since no one in Darre will do so. I came here from the North.”

“You have surprised me, Mother. I hear no trace of the North in your speech.”

“I was raised from an infant at a convent in Varre, but when I was fourteen I was taken from there to St. Radegundis’ convent in Salia. Indeed, I came to her convent not six months after St. Radegundis passed out of this world and into the Chamber of Light.”

“That is incredible. Surely you have looked at the Vita, then?”