(Chapter 13: Loss, cont.)

  Ean worried that the funeral song might make their grief worse the next day, but his fears were unfounded. Everyone appeared to be in a better mood. Not happy, to be sure, but not as grim. There was careful conversation over breakfast that transitioned into lighthearted chitchat as they started walking. Leo set the pace at a comfortable hike and dropped back in the afternoon to walk with him.

  “I wanted to thank you for the song,” he said. “Roarke deserved a send-off. When we get back to Balucia, we’ll have a proper funeral. But the song… that helped. And thank you for stopping us last night. I hope you’re feeling better today?”

  Ean felt an unexpected dash of warmth that Leo had asked. He shrugged the feeling off with a crooked grin. “I’m alright. Not the first time I’ve been hit with a sword.”

  Leo’s eyes slid to his side and then away. “Yes, I remember you’ve been hit before.”

  There was an odd note to his voice, and Ean wasn’t sure what it meant. Leo shook his head and looked back at him, a pleasant smile fixed to his face. If Ean hadn’t spent the last several weeks traveling with him, he would have thought the smile was genuine.

  “How long did it take you to learn hand-flute?” Leo asked.

  “I don’t remember,” Ean said. “I was young when I learned. By the time I was five, I could play simple melodies. By seven, I could play most songs.”

  “Do you think you could teach me?”

  “Right now?”

  “We’ve got the rest of the day.”

  He had a point, so Ean showed him how to link his fingers and cup his palms. Leo struggled to create a seal with his hands, but by the time they stopped for dinner, he could make a whistle about half of the time. The rest of the group had their try at it while Asali cooked a hare into stew.

  “How much farther?” she asked as she passed the bowls out.

  “About two days to the shrine,” Chadwick said.

  Ean sat up straighter, as did the others. They were that close?

  “And from there…,” Chadwick shrugged. “It depends on the directions we’re given, but I can’t imagine it’s too far into the mountains.”

  Ean looked around at the others, feeling a shared anticipation and relief. The sword was close, and once they had it, they could start the return trip to Eastmere. They all slept well that night.

  *   *   *

  Chadwick’s prediction came true. They reached the footholds of the mountains on the second day, heavily wooded hills that were dwarfed by the gray peaks behind them, all tipped with snow. It was a majestic picture, but somewhat spoiled by the thought that they might have to climb those mountains.

  Chadwick kept the party following the river. It was no longer the large, rushing waterway that cut through the moors, but a smaller, babbling stream, careening downhill over moss-covered rocks. The trees were densely packed and cast deep shadows. Without the sun shining on them, the temperature dropped. Ean pulled on his cloak and turned up his hood against the chill.

  The ground got rougher, steeper, and more tangled with roots. Their pace dropped to a crawl as they navigated through the woods, the ponies having the hardest time of it. Ean was just about to suggest giving them up when Chadwick gave a shout.

  “Over here!” His voice was pleased.

  The group pressed forward, and the trees thinned out, giving way to a meadow of yellow grass. In the middle was a small grove of trees planted in a dozen straight rows. As they walked closer, Ean could see it was an orchard, well-tended by the looks of it.

  “Who planted these?” Chadwick wondered.

  It was a question Ean had as well. He followed the others through the orchard, noting the careful precision with which it had been planted. Each row held twelve trees, and each row differed from the next. He spotted red apples, purple plums, green sweetrounds, yellow elderstars. He wasn’t a farmer, but he knew that most of these shouldn’t be growing this far north. And they shouldn’t all be in season at once, but the branches were heavy with mature fruit.

  Flora knelt and put her hand on the earth. “There’s magic here.”

  “Dangerous?” Asali asked.

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  Flora shook her head. “No, nothing malevolent. But it’s old. Very old. And strong.”

  The orchard led to an open pavilion. Four stone pillars held up a shingled roof. Four torches were posted on each pillar, their flames burning brightly. Ean reached out to find that the flames offered no heat, only light. It was eternal flame, a simple magical trick that most mages could produce.

  The pavilion was empty except for a white stone altar. The top of it was covered in flat ceramic tiles, all shimmering white, except for the tiles at the corners, those were painted. One was deep blue, one jade green, one misty lavender, and one golden yellow. Four white tiles in the center of the altar were missing, cutting a straight groove from front to back.

  An inscription was engraved across the front of the altar. From the blocky characters, it was written in Archaic. Like most of Eastmere, all Ean knew of that language were a couple of ancient prayers and few swear words. Both Leo and Flora knelt to read it; Ean, Asali, and Chadwick waited for the translation.

  “It’s a welcome,” Leo said, gesturing at the first couple of lines. “It says we can rest and enjoy the fruits of the orchard. And then it says that if we’re seeking the Scholars in the Northern Villa, we first need to know the path of man.”

  “What does that mean?” Asali asked.

  Leo stepped back. “I’m not entirely sure.”

  Chadwick bent over the altar. “There’s words here.” He pointed at the colored tiles in the corners. A word had been engraved on each one, also in Archaic.

  “This one says ‘profound’,” Leo said, pointing to the blue tile. “And this one says ‘nature’.” That was the green tile. The lavender said ‘sky’ and the yellow said ‘fate’.

  “How does that help us?” Asali asked.

  Chadwick gestured to the four missing tiles in the center of the altar. “There are grooves here. Like tiles were removed.”

  “Or we need to put these tiles in place,” Leo said. He reached for the blue tile. It was easily removable. He placed it into one of the empty spots in the middle and the surface of the altar shimmered.

  “It’s a puzzle!” Flora exclaimed. She picked up the lavender tile and slotted it into the spot above the blue. The surface flickered again.

  “We don’t know what order to put them in,” Asali cautioned. “What if it’s trapped?”

  It was fair concern. Ean gestured the others back and investigated the altar, searching it for any trigger plates or arrow holes. He didn’t find any. He checked the stone pillars as well, just to make sure they weren’t going to collapse and send the roof smashing down on them, but they appeared to be solid.

  He turned to the others and shrugged. “Looks okay.”

  “Maybe Leo should stand back anyway,” Chadwick said. He stepped up and put the last two tiles into the center row. The top of the altar shimmered again, and this time faint gray lines appeared on the surface, like some invisible hand was painting a map. The group huddled around, watching the display.

  “Look.” Chadwick pointed at the bottom left corner. An icon of the pavilion had been drawn in. A dotted line drifted from the pavilion, up around five mountain peaks, to the top right corner where there was a picture of a small village.

  “A map to the Scholars,” Flora breathed.

  But Ean knew it couldn’t be that easy. He swapped the blue and green tiles. The surface shimmered again, and the map reformed. This time the pavilion was located on the bottom right side and the village, presumably the Northern Villa, was located center-left.

  “There must be a specific combination to get the right map,” Leo said.

  “‘The path of man’,” Flora mused. “It must be a riddle, and these tiles are the answer.”

  “It doesn’t say anything else?” Asali asked.

  Leo and Flora ducked to read the inscription again.

  “The path of man,” Chadwick repeated thoughtfully. “Birth, life, and death?”

  Asali shrugged.

  Ean stepped back and leaned against a pillar. He knew his strengths, and riddles weren’t one of them. He wasn’t going to be much help here.

  Leo and Flora popped their heads up from the altar.

  “Nothing in the inscription,” Leo said. “Let’s look around. There’s got to be a hint somewhere.”

  That sounded more interesting than staring at an altar. Ean dropped his pack and headed off with the others, exploring the rest of the meadow. There was a small, overgrown sanctuary beyond the pavilion, consisting of a low stone wall and a couple of benches. But apart from the sanctuary, pavilion, and orchard, there was nothing more in the clearing.

  Night came quickly as the sun dropped behind the mountains surrounding them. Flora built a fire next to the pavilion and Ean helped Chadwick with dinner. Leo tried new combinations of tile placement until the meal was ready. Asali had to pull him over to eat.

  “There’s got to be some sort of clue,” Leo said in frustration.

  “Profound, fate, sky, and nature,” Flora recited, her nose scrunching in thought. “It must be something related to the Scholars. Does anyone know about them?”

  Leo squinted, like he was trying to recall a lost memory. “The Scholars of the Cardinal Fane were a quasi-religious group. They didn’t believe in any named deities; they were more interested in science and philosophy. They opened schools across Viridas before the wars.”

  “They were pacifists, right?” Asali asked.

  “They claimed to be pacifists,” Leo corrected, “but during the Dragon War, they fought against the Crown. They killed Prince Seppo during the hostilities and were exiled.”

  “Which is why it’s considered treason to seek them out,” Chadwick added.

  Leo nodded. “Their buildings and schools were razed after their exile, so most information about them was lost.”

  “Do you remember anything about the path of man?” Asali asked.

  Leo shook his head. “No, but I’m sure there’s a clue here somewhere. We’re overlooking something.” He glanced back at the altar, like he wanted to examine it again.

  “Let’s take it easy tonight,” Asali suggested. “We’ll get some rest and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

  Leo gave a reluctant nod.

  Ean wasn’t sure how a night’s rest was going to help them solve the riddle, not unless someone had the talent of prophetic dreaming, but he kept that thought to himself. They didn’t need to put up the tent to sleep that night. The wind was mild, and the temperature was balmy. More magic, not that Ean was complaining.