* * *
Zadar was hopeful that the new field marshal was still in the palace, possibly squirreled away in some hidden enclave of this lower section. He had slipped through a side door to find Trisha soon after she left the chamber. Checking with the door wardens, they all told him the same thing - that no woman fitting her description passed their way. Other than the tramwaiters there was no other common exit, and he doubted the woman was familiar enough with this place to know of the more secreted exits.
The Upper Palace complexes had been quiet and subdued, the evening being late and the Council meeting still lasting well into the night. Even down here, along the Grand Concourse, few were the visitors at this hour. Most of the shops and eateries were closed and the few remaining open were nearly empty. As Zadar poked his head in one after another of the taverns and dining establishments, he remained confident that his search would end successfully.
Trisha was little more than a stranger to Zadar, they having met just this afternoon at a late luncheon, and that so casually. Though cordial, the woman had been distant, even cool toward his pleasantries. Yet something happened during that momentary encounter that troubled Zadar very much. And his troubled spirit only intensified as he escorted her around the council chambers earlier that eve. The man’s ardor was easily roused, but it was not for that reason he was determined to find this strange creature. If it was for romance or a release of his passions, why put forth such effort? Many were the women available and willing to dance the romantic with this most charming of fellows. No, something burned in Zadar’s heart. It called to him with urgency. What it was he did not know, but it grew in power as the empty moments passed.
He was well beyond the Winter Gardens, on the North Concourse, when Zadar felt it wise to pay a visit upon the South Palace Apartments, a complex set aside for visiting guests. Returning along the concourse, he again pondered the reason for his urgency. Could it be he needed to make Trisha understand that his people were not as foolish and selfish as she accused, that she must give them time to learn? True as it may well have been, other forces were busy that night as well. Zadar’s relentless search frustrated at least one other soul. Angry eyes soon departed searching for their elusive victim, this fellow being an intrusive nuisance, thus saving the Empire from possible catastrophe.
Retracing his steps, Zadar hurried by the Winter Gardens on his way to the Southern Concourse tramwaiter. The cool, moist air of the gardens bid him to suck in a deep breath as he passed the golden fountains at the apex of the garden’s fingers trailing out along each of the four main thoroughfares where the concourses intersected. Zadar could not help but to take in another intoxicating breath of delightful fragrances, sweet and pungent, the gardens ablaze with all varieties of flowers.
He suddenly froze, stopped dead in his tracks. That was odd. Not all the smells floating upon the breeze belonged to the flowers of the Winter Gardens. Jasmine spice mixed with the scent of orange and apple blossoms titillated Zadar’s nostrils. The concoction was made by a wizard’s hands long ago and given by that wizard, PalaHar, to Mihai as a gift of his appreciation and love. And Mihai was wearing that enchanting fragrance this very eve when she had come to the council. Then how was it that scent drifted upon the breeze in this location, for Mihai was still at the council meeting, it not being finished yet?
Snapping his fingers, Zadar smiled, answering his own question in whispered breath. “My Lady gave the woman a hug this night. That magic of Lord PalaHar’s is powerful, clinging to all it touches.” He lifted his arm, noting the intoxicating fragrance on his own sleeve. Without hesitation, the man vanished into the garden’s thick jungle of exotic greenery.
Melodious splashing of the water fountain was all Zadar could hear in this upper part of the Winter Gardens, making it impossible for him to listen for clues that might reveal where his prize was hiding. Oh, she was here. He could smell it and feel it as well. Her spirit haunted him, the woman’s energy being strong with emotion, but where she was continued to mystify him.
Not that the gardens were an easy place to find someone even if they were not secluded in a private place. First, it was quite large, being over an acre in size, with a labyrinth of narrow walkways and tiny nooks and crannies where romantic couples could secret themselves away for some special, private time – indeed the very reason for such design. The splashing water fountains, rock formations, trails and terraces had been built so as to create the illusion of solitude in the middle of the crowded world of men. Zadar had to depend on his sight and smell if he were to be successful here.
For over twenty minutes, Zadar searched and, as always, the hunt returned him to this one spot, the restless waterfalls at the northern end of the garden. “Twenty times I’ve been here!” He huffed. Still, he could find no clue to where this mysterious woman had gone. “She is not some flitting spirit without flesh and body. She must be near, for my nose tells me it is so.”
Bending low to study the edge of the flagstone path, Zadar noticed a depression in the soil. Sure enough, a shoe with a hardened sole made it. And there! There was another depression after that, and that one was newly made, for the disturbed earth was still moist and packed by the weight pressing down upon it. Zadar hurried forward, seeking further evidence of the trail’s direction. It ran toward the waterfall and then down beside the rushing stream the tempestuous falls created until it narrowed into a little torrent hemmed in by a steep, narrow, hewn granite canyon. From there Zadar worked his way down the stream along a narrow ledge used by maintenance workers to clean debris from the water.
The splashing waters made his going slippery, Zadar almost tumbling into the ever-growing tumult on more than one occasion. From the look of things, it appeared that he was not the only person finding the journey awkward. There were several places where growing lichens were raggedly torn by some misstep or other. Ahead, the man could see a sharp turn in the narrow canyon, this also being the place where several more streams collected, turning the watercourse into a rumbling torrent.
Zadar knew - for he had searched this watercourse many times in his younger days - that the noisy tempest would soon widen, slowing the stream, shortly thereafter plummeting down a giant, carved sluice, taking it far below into an immense cistern, only to be gathered up by huge pumps and returned to the Winter Garden’s many water fountains and bubbling pools.
Gingerly working his way around a bend and through some limbs fallen from the dense tree canopy above, Zadar finally managed to find his way around that bend and peer down the stream to where it passed under a footbridge before disappearing into the darkness below, that graceful footbridge arched high above, it crossing a ravine at the terrace level of the Gardens. The abutment of the soaring structure, hewn from obsidian basalt, its base jutting out like a bench where the waters were gathered together, again caused the stream to pick up its pace before plunging into the noisy abyss.
Zadar grinned, breathing a sigh of relief that his search was finished. There, hidden in the shadows of the bridge’s superstructure was the object of his intense pursuit. Trisha sat quietly, hunched forward with elbows resting on her knees, head down, staring into the chattering stream. Her finely embroidered military jacket and ornate kepi lay jumbled on the ledge beside her feet, and ringlets of the woman’s silky brunette hair fell carelessly about her face.
His grin quickly faded. From this distance he could see that the woman appeared to be quietly weeping, or had been. A sudden wave of remorse swept across the man’s heart. He had intruded into a very private world, one better left to the grieving soul. Yes, that was it. Trisha’s appearance was that of a person in grief. Here was Foe Hammer in tears! This person, this savage and heartless monster of the Children’s Empire, a person willing to sink all souls into the depths of Hell for a holy cause, this person was weeping. Zadar could only see a child, a very fragile child trying to save a rebellious, arrogant people whom she loved
- or wanted so much to love - and she willing to surrender her heart and soul to repurchase theirs. Zadar became overwhelmed with the urge to cry over this woman’s agony. Never before had his heart ached so over another’s loss.
Choosing to leave the night to itself, Zadar started to retrace his steps only to be halted by Trisha’s bitter rebuff. “I thought if anyone would search me out, it’d be you.”
Jolted by her words, Zadar slipped, almost falling into the chilly waters. Trisha did not move or even look up.
Regaining his balance, he blurted out, “I… I was concerned and came looking for…”
Trisha glared, interrupting caustically. “…a quick one? A new rose to pluck for your amusement? You wasted no time with that leftenant this afternoon. Had her nearly naked before you were to the tramwaiter…”
Zadar recoiled at Trisha’s stinging rebuke, attempting a reply, but could find no words to do so.
Patting the stone ledge as she turned to watch the stream, Trisha sighed in surrender. “Come here and sit down. You have found me...”
Zadar cautiously made his way into the cool shadows, stopping to study this strangest of all creatures before sitting. After doing so, he said, “You’ve been crying…”
Trisha snapped, “That’s none of your business! Now speak of other matters.”
Nodding obediently, Zadar asked, “Why did you expect me?”
Trisha tossed a short stick lying close by into the water, watching until the stream carried it from sight. “I didn’t expect you… or anyone, for that matter.” She turned and stared into Zadar’s face. “I believed if anyone came, it would be you.”
“Why me?!” Zadar quizzed, surprised, “Lord PalaHar, Admiral Euroaquilo, why, even our new king, Mihai, any one of them was as likely a candidate.”
Trisha frowned, replying sourly, “You’re quite the lady’s man, aren’t you? Catch a scent and off you go in a rut. You’re like a bull in a herd…sniff her, poke her, pull it out and sniff another…work your way through the herd until a new heifer arrives, and then it’s all attention on her ‘til she gets a poke, too.”
Trisha’s comments hit Zadar like a hard slap in the face. Finally, a little put off, himself, he answered, “It is true that I delight in the field of lilies, my sisters making my love nests many, and me revisiting them often. But never have I forced my attention upon a lovely one of Lowenah’s, nor have I acted like a buck in rut with my lovemaking. And… and that is not the reason I searched you out this night.”
“Oh, really?!” Trisha’s accusation was nearing the abusive. “I watched you glance at my form, your eyes studying my breasts as we wandered the council chambers. I’ve seen you stare at them here, while we talk.” She eyed him. “Tell me the truth. Should I offer myself to you at this moment, would you be man enough to leave me my dignity?”
Zadar’s face flushed red with anger, biting his lip to constrain the retort his heart wanted to offer. ‘Better take the blow and look weak and foolish…’ Euroaquilo once warned him, ‘than to offer battle and prove it’. At length, Zadar replied, “I am sorry that you believe my motives so prurient. Whether I am a man of honor or not cannot be debated between two opponents. The light of sun reveals all secrets. I shall wait upon its light to prove to you the man I am.”
Trisha was studying him while he pondered and replied. She felt guilt of heart for accusing the fellow of such beastly qualities, but she could not offer apology - not now, or she might lose all control and fall into a wailing lament. The night was already tearing away at her heart - a woman and mother forced to watch a child die in her arms, to listen to her sons rebuke her, casting lots against her so that the men of the village piously castigated her for one act of adultery against a drunkard and bully.
She turned her head away to hide a tear. In a troubled voice, she commented, “I come from a world where even good men would force themselves upon a woman, passionately releasing their ardor upon her, forcing her into a servitude of silent torment until she was old and worn out, then casting her aside like some worthless baggage.”
A resigned bitterness was carried on her voice. “And then, should we fall during a moment of wishful escape, even the very men who led us in our worship would publicly humiliate us before the gathering, saying that what was done to us by our village elders was but small retribution for such an evil act. And then, those same men who publicly shamed us for our sins would secretly desire our flesh for themselves, repeatedly asking us in detail about our adventurous fornications while, with long faces, shaking their heads in disapproval.”
Trisha hung her head in sadness. “I was an old woman when I died in that forgotten land so long ago…well, at least I was considered old by the standards of the day. My friends, few friends, were all gone by then. My husband having taken a younger woman for himself and my sons having abandoned me, I was left to fend on my own, hunched over from rheumatism and unable to work the fields, and no longer good-looking.”
She pulled on her jowls. “My wrinkles were many, my skin hanging loose around my chin. My large firm breasts that, as a flirtatious maiden, I would flaunt by the way I tied my robes, were flat and empty of youth, and my belly sagged from the many children I bore. I was a useless, ugly old woman. At best, the men ignored me. Others would call me names, ‘old hag’, ‘dung bag’, or even worse. I did not regret my passing from that world. I remember smiling when I felt that last breath.”
Trisha reached over and took Zadar’s hand, looking into his eyes. “When I entered your world, I’d been asleep for over two thousand years. My joy at arriving here was overwhelming. Your mother, my God, and my Lord, Mihai, worked so hard to make me feel welcomed. I truly appreciate the things they did for me, but alas, my past has followed me here, at least in spirit. I have resided here many years but feel much like the worthless old hag I became before my death. Your people have not cared to find out who I am. Their empty and sometimes hostile stares are often my reward for entry here.”
“Zadar, do you know what it is like to lose everything that is yours and have no one even remember your name? The desert wind ever blows over the ruins of my village. It was not large or important, but it was my home and life, good or bad, it was what and who I was. No one cared to know me then. Even Mihai did not remember me. Oh yes, your mother knows me and loves me very much. Yet it is her witchery that has delivered me to this tormented land, a place giving me very little refreshment.”
She looked around, speaking wistfully. “This place reminds me of home.” She took Zadar’s hand, squeezing it, peering again into his eyes. “Near my village there was a drainage ditch with a small overhang near the rock wall where the water entered a tiny pool. It didn’t always smell nice, especially when the herders brought their animals to town, but it was secluded and out of the way of prying eyes.”
She paused to search for the right words. “When I was a little girl, my father… who was really a very good man… would take to beating us when the wine took hold of him. We children would all attempt to find places to hide from his wrath, hoping he would not come searching. I found a haven in that drainage ditch, disappearing under the overhang until it was safe to return home. There I played at whatever I wished to be, creating pretend playmates and going on wonderful adventures. Zadar, it was the one and only place in my life where I always felt secure and free to be who I really was.”
Moments slowly passed. Zadar reflected on Trisha’s tales of her life, re-living the emotion of her childhood years long ago. Trisha finally broke the silence. “This place makes me feel secure.”
She glanced into Zadar’s face, exclaiming, “You shed a tear! In my world, a man would be shamed if he cried in front of a woman.” Like a caring mother, she reached up, brushing it away.
Smiling sadly, Zadar replied, “The men of this world find no shame in tears or weeping. Our manliness is not based on some emotional premise that women, alone, may exercise free
dom of feelings.”
Trisha nodded. “That’s one example of just how different our worlds are… or were… at least as I recall the world of my day.”
Zadar responded, “It’s changed little, I assure you.”
Gazing into the bubbling water, Trisha wistfully recalled distant times. “Mihai has told me that I, alone, was selected from all the people of my kind to be gathered here, and for a special purpose. Oh yes, she promised me that after the Ending Days, many of my people would return to the lands of the living, but… but, for the moment, I stand the bulwark of Time alone, a stranger in a strange land. Only one other person do I know from my old days. When I was young and full of zeal for my new religion, I happened upon Paul in my travels to a distant city. He says that he does not recollect me, though I did have a word with him at that time.”
She slowly shook her head. “I was a nobody in the eyes of my village people and those I worshiped with, a silly chatterer, always thinking sideways of the others. My only true companion, my mother, died before my twelfth birthday, leaving me to the mercies of a father not able to feed all the children he had. I was shuttled around my family until, finally, the old miller took me for a wife and he paid little more attention to me than to satisfy his passions. I doubt anyone noted my passing until the room I died in was consumed with stink… and I imagine they only cursed me for such rudeness.”
Sadness grew on Trisha’s breath. “I asked Lowenah once why she brought me here, something far beyond my understanding. She just laughed and, with a twinkle in her eye, answered, ‘I may have mistaken you for another, oh, someone so much more important, you know. Oops! How careless of me… Well, when I discovered the mistake, what was there to do but let you stay?’ That’s Lowenah…she always tries so hard to lift your spirits.”
Zadar laughed aloud, grinning. “At least you were given a reason. Most who ask find themselves staring into a troubled face looking puzzled. Finally Mother will reply that she really doesn’t quite know and, for the life of her, she can’t figure out what to do with them now that they’re here.” His eyes twinkled as a smile grew on his face. “When I was a little one, I asked Mother why I was born. She became serious and, leaning close, saying her words only for my ears, she answered, ‘I was so wanting some dumplings for my stewpot. Well, you know, I thought about it with such intent that, oops! Out popped you, my little dumpling.’ She gleefully rubbed her hands together and then she became oh so sad, lamenting, ‘When I went to find the stewpot, I discovered it was missing. When I find it, we’ll make the stew then.’”
Zadar laughed. “I tell you, for the longest time, when someone requested stew for supper, you could count on little Zadar taking flight, hiding in some secluded corner of the palace until he thought it safe to come out again.”
Trisha smiled, thinking of a little Zadar, much like her own sons, hiding in a secret corner or hiding under the palace furniture, fearing he was being hunted down to be thrown into the cooking pot. She looked into Zadar’s eyes, a fading sadness escaping hers. “Thank you. Your tale not only rekindles pleasant memories, but it increases my understanding concerning the ways and thinking of your people.”
Zadar asked how that was so. He received no reply. Trisha looked away, returning her stare to the cold waters hurrying toward their eventual fate. At length, she asked, “Zadar, are you good at keeping secrets, I mean secrets that a troubled heart even refuses to acknowledge?”
Puzzled, Zadar pondered in thought. His people played at riddles and guessing games, sometimes in most serious ways, but secrets? Secrets were few, he experiencing them as the tools of war when openness could be fatal. He knew that Trisha was not speaking of a military secret, yet to her, what she wanted to reveal must be as important. He finally nodded. “One secret should be easy enough for me to keep. All right, I promise.”
Trisha stared into Zadar’s eyes for the longest time, a sadness escaping hers. At length, she looked away and sighed, “I have watched how your men look at me, at least until they discover who I am. They undress me in their mind, seeking to find the flesh hidden under my flowing capes.”
Turning her gaze back to Zadar, Trisha bemoaned, “Oh, I know the beauty I possess now. I see it in the mirrors. But… but I feel old - old and ugly inside, like the hag I had become in my old age. And… and I have come to despise the looks of honest men, feeling them to be little more than ravenous stares of beasts seeking to use my flesh as a tool to release their passion. I feel like my body is craved for, to become little more than a replacement for a tired hand, working an excited organ of pleasure.”
Lowering her head and speaking in just above a forlorn whisper, the woman from lost years lamented, “I wish so badly to feel young again, to trust…to trust like a maiden trusts when a suitor lavishes his attention on her. I want to enjoy what my God made me to enjoy…the love of an honest man…for me to crave his passion and feel his release as a gift given in love and not see my womanly parts as just some repository of wanton lust.”
Zadar could not hold back his feelings, groaning in dismay, agonizing over seeing a troubled heart searching release from its own demons. Without thinking, he reached his arm across Trisha’s shoulders, pulling her close to him. The woman did not resist, continuing to stare at the water. In time, she put her head back on his shoulder, closing her eyes while releasing a contented sigh. The little stream ever hurried on, its sweet, tumultuous music playing ever on the woman’s ears, ‘all is well, rest for the world has changed, rest and see your dreams fulfilled, rest for now, Daughter of the Wind. Breathe the universe anew, with life and satisfaction’.
Far away, with the sounds of disenchantment and troubled voices in her ears, another woman smiled with satisfaction. Her son would deliver the medicine. That she knew. Zadar had never failed her before, his spirit being irresistible to her daughters, and this creature from below? Ma-we smiled to herself. A cure…a cure was already in the making.