Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (4 page)

Antiquities and art lined the corridor, depicting a faraway world from the past. A large painting illustrated a pastoral scene, a picnic of ladies and gentlemen dressed in fine fabrics and buckled shoes. Heads nodded toward each other as though conversing. The grass lay green and the sky soared blue—not the lavender color of this planet's atmosphere.

Miri guided Axandra to a suite halfway down the corridor and on the east side of the building, where she stopped to open an ornately carved door.

“We refer to this as the Fairytale Room,” Miri explained cheerfully, her pink lips beaming a welcoming, toothy smile, “since the door is carved with fairies and nymphs. That isn't official though.” She lowered her voice to a whisper at the last remark. She went immediately to the double doors of the balcony and pushed back long silken drapes to let the sunslight filter in.

“I understand you've traveled quite a long distance, Ms. Korte. I can have your clothing laundered and bring up a meal when you're ready. The chef is preparing stuffed lettuce for supper.”

“Thank you very much,” Axandra accepted both offers, handing Miri a majority of her luggage.

“The Head of Council says you may have your run of the Palace. She only asks that the north wing of this level be regarded as off limits. That's the Residence.”

Axandra nodded in understanding. “I will respect that.”

Miri moved quickly to continue her business, heading for the door. “I am at your disposal during your stay. Just let me know if you need any assistance.”

“Oh, for the moment, I'm just going to rest. It's been a long trip.”

“Very well.” Miri disappeared, closing the wide door behind her.

Breathing in the air of the room, Axandra found it fragrant with flowers from a planter covering a small table. She went out onto the balcony and looked down at a lush garden filled with native blossoms and hedges, some so tall as to block the paths from view of each other. The grounds stood divided from a forest of broad-leaf trees by a two-and-a-half meter wall. The trees lined the banks of a shallow river that ran wide and clear. Sunslight glinted off the water.

As Axandra sat down on a lounge chair draped with a small canopy for shade, exhaustion settled in her bones. The cushions of the chair felt luxurious compared to the lodgings aboard the sailing ship and riding in a bumpy solar bus for hours.

The trip had taken sixteen days of dreaming up scenarios of how this meeting might go. She imagined any number of results, from being welcomed back with open arms to being forced back out the door without consideration. The event landed acceptably in the middle. Things could have gone much worse.

Thoughts about the day began to melt away, replaced by contentment to be lying against the soft shams, her toes kissed by the suns. The garden gave the air a sweet and moist aroma. It was Spring, and every plant glowed brightly with new growth. The suns basked the world in a warming light. A cool breeze brushed her skin and ruffled her dress. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Floating in the front of her brain, she saw her mother's face, the adoring face she remembered from childhood. The face wore a warm and inviting smile.

+++

Miri woke her
when the suns were nearly set and an orange-pink glow belted the lavender sky. As the shade darkened to indigo, the stars began to shine. A subtle patch of the Milky Way melted across the middle of the skydome like a leftover cloud.

“I apologize, Ms. Korte,” Miri said at waking her. “I thought you might be ready for dinner now. It's nearly eight o'clock.”

Axandra opened her eyes to the pleasant and friendly face, then sat up slowly on the lounger.

“Yes,” she said after considering the growling of her stomach. “I am. Thank you. I was much more tired than I realized.” She quickly combed her fingers through her curls to revive them and pushed herself up to her feet.

The balcony table lay set for one with a covered plate and silverware on a cream-colored table cloth. “It's a very pleasant evening,” Miri began to chat. “Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

Axandra sensed Miri's curious questions running rampant through her mind. “I would enjoy a conversation that doesn't involve sailing or fishing,” Axandra said with a depressed laugh. “If I can make use of you for that purpose.”

Invitation accepted, Miri slid herself onto a seat across the table. “Certainly. Go ahead with your dinner. I've already eaten. Where are you from exactly?”

While Axandra nibbled at the wraps, which were stuffed with a mixture of vegetables, fruit and mushrooms glued together with a nutty sauce, Axandra explained that she had traveled from about the farthest point away from Eastland as was possible and that she had sailed across the open Ocean instead of coming by land. “I've been seasick for almost two straight weeks.” The rich food made her stomach rejoice, for she had eaten very bland meals supplied by the sailors with limited supplies. She hadn't even eaten lunch today. As soon as she made landfall, she got on the bus to come to Undun, another six hours, wasting no time on trivials such as meals.

For dessert, there were chilled berries in cream. After devouring the wraps, Axandra took to those greedily with her spoon. The cream tasted sweet with a pinch of sugar.

“You enjoyed that I see,” Miri gestured to the empty plate. “The chef will be pleased. Why is it that you've come to us, Ms. Korte, if I may ask? You've traveled a very long way when surely a letter would have sufficed.” The young woman thought she was being clever, fishing for hints.

Axandra answered carefully, however. Until the final verdict was reached, she would not be announcing to anyone in general that she was the Heir. “In this case, it was not sufficient. I'm sorry that I'm not at liberty to give you any details. It's currently a matter of personal concern.”

The aide looked at her more seriously. She leaned close to the table and glanced around as though to check for any other listeners.

“You are Her aren't you?” Miri asked insistently. “You are the daughter.”

Axandra emulated Miri's secretive posture and prepared an ambiguous response.

There came a knock at the door. Miri jumped up and grabbed the dishes, making herself look busy.

“Come in,” Axandra called.

The door swung open to allow Councilor Morton and a second figure to enter the suite. The Prophet had apparently arrived earlier than expected. Morton saw no point in wasting time today.

Miri escaped with the dishes before Morton had a chance to shoo her out.

Axandra recognized the Prophet immediately. He looked slightly older, but essentially the same as he had twenty-one years ago, his pale face scarred with craters. His presence elicited a cringe. “Elder Tyrane.”

“It is I, Ileanne,” he nodded in confirmation. “I am surprised and pleased to see that you survived.”

Morton's eyes widened at the passing tones, apparently taking this as the confirmation that Axandra was indeed whom she claimed to be. Immediately, her distrustful expression softened. Prophets were truth-seers. No one had ever been able to pass lies anywhere near them. Their abilities were too powerful. “You recognize her?”

“I do indeed. I recognized her aura as soon as I came near the Palace,” Tyrane stated in a tone that mixed relief with somberness. “The presence is very strong. Though it has been a long stretch of years, an individual's base emanations change little over time. They are something about ourselves that we cannot change.”

His voice was laced with disappointment as well, perhaps at her choice to disappear and remain hidden, rather than return to her rightful place. Axandra felt the manipulative fingers of his telepathy envelop her. Though wary, she opened up to him as she promised the Councilor she would.

Why did you flee?
He asked her mind, addressing her without sharing his conversation with Councilor Morton.

Before Axandra could answer, Morton cleared her throat, addressing them both. “You have passed this test,” Nancy said. “Now we await the more physical evidence that will validate your claim, your blood sample comparison. Then we will decide how to proceed further.”

Taking Tyrane with her, Morton left. Axandra stayed alone in her suite. Darkness reigned outside and the city below turned on the lights. The broad vista of sky filled with stars of every magnitude, the same stars seen from her cottage on the island when she had stared into the sky, looking into the past.

The past caught up with her quickly now. She could not turn back and return to the islands and to Jon. Breathing in a deep sigh, Axandra contemplated her decision to leave the Haven and run away and wondered exactly why she had left. A six-year-old's reasons seemed far too simple now that she was an adult. Fear and hate had been her motivation then, wanting nothing more to do with the Prophets or her parents and their violation of her body with the Sliver. Had Tyrane frightened her off, when she had accidentally seen into his thoughts? He had been thinking of the future then, of something hideous. She did not remember the images in any detail, only that they horrified her.

Whatever the reason, her life played out this way and could not be redone. She had not learned anything about being Protectress while growing up, but perhaps that would give her a better understanding of the people whom she intended to watch over. Her life paralleled her constituents, instead of one catered to and pampered. Her past could only make her a stronger person in the future.

+++

Councilor Morton
took Tyrane to the Council Chamber on the first floor of the Palace. In the large room of risers and desks gathered three of the seventeen elected members of the People's Council.

In this room they created rules and guidelines to protect the people and continually interpreted the laws as laid forth in their Covenants, preventing the citizens from destroying this world as Old Earth had been destroyed centuries ago. The Council met just three times per year for one week. For the most part, governance was kept at a minimum, impacting little in the routine lives of the people. After three centuries, the general public was adept at keeping themselves out of trouble. The Council dealt mostly with natural disasters and the equitable distribution of resources.

These three members composed a special group, the few who knew the secret that the Protectress would always carry.

Nancy heard them speaking in quiet tones to one another. They sat in the front row of desks.

“Why do you think she's called us here at this hour?” asked Franny in a gravelly voice of complaint. “I was just about to go to bed when March came knocking at my front door.”

“It must concern the woman who came to the Palace today,” answered Casper. “There is a rumor—”

The three turned immediately toward the clomping footsteps, and Casper left his statement unfinished. They sat in the front row of desks.

Once again, the loose lips of the Palace staff had taken care of much of the work. The Councilors' eyes looked up at her curiously, though no one dared ask the question that teetered on the tip of each of their tongues.

Nancy Morton suggested that they move to her office and they quickly departed from the large room to a hallway that hid several smaller offices used by the Councilors during their vigils in the capital city. The Head of Council's office lay immediately opposite the Council Chamber door.

Seating themselves in the chairs around a small tea table, they waited quietly for Morton's report.

Nancy sat in the largest chair and looked carefully at each of her cohorts before speaking. She sensed their eagerness for any tidbit and their awareness that, to be called together at this hour, the news offered a solution to a very difficult problem.

“As I'm certain you all know, thanks to our talkative staff, a woman arrived at the Palace this afternoon. She is the writer of the letter I shared with you all last week.” Each of them leaned forward in his or her seat, just enough to decrease the space in the center of the circle. “The Healer is doing her job to compare this woman's attributes, inside and out, to the Healer's notes of record. She will complete her task tomorrow, but is already satisfied that our visitor can be believed. This man, Elder Tyrane of the Prophets, will voice his opinion to us now.”

Tyrane had not taken a seat with the Councilors but remained standing, positioning himself near Morton's chair. “This woman is indeed Ileanne Saugray, Elora's daughter. I can feel that the Goddess is with her. The Goddess will seek out only the one whom it has touched.”

In general, the sense of relief saturated the room. Surprise surfaced as well, tempered with curiosity and satisfaction. How could the young girl have stayed hidden so long? Who raised her? Thank the Goddess she had returned!

“Then the blood test should prove that she is physically the daughter?” Foster Tremby asked of Morton, still harboring a doubt or two. This had come about too easily. “It will be needed as proof to the general public.” He was often the voice of public relations, understanding what the people wanted and needed to hear and making it understandable when situations did not come clearly cut. This was definitely one of those times. The citizens remained unaware of the Goddess and her existence inside their leader, a secret kept all these centuries for good reason. They were not about to make it public now.

“Yes, I expect the sampling will offer the definitive proof. Eryn will tell us tomorrow.”

“What has she been doing all this time?” questioned grouchy Franny Gilbert. Her old face seemed squashed with age, her eyes narrow and her flesh sagging. “How did she survive?”

Tyrane offered his thoughts on the matter. Ileanne had taken one of the cars, which were easy to operate, and headed west out of the Storm. When she emerged, she was taken in as an orphan and raised by another family. “I sense she suffered no strife. Though my contact with her was brief, I find her mind is that of a woman who was brought up in a happy, productive home.”

“But she didn't try to come home?” Franny disbelieved. “A child wants to be with her mother and father.”

“I cannot explain her intentions at that time, since I did not have access to her mind after she left the Haven,” Tyrane said flatly. “It would appear that she did not want to be found.”