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Not a flicker of a smile touched the skopos’ face. She might have been carved in stone. It was hard to imagine anyone more regal sitting in that chair, though. Henry had been wise to grant her the skopos’ throne. That way, she could never challenge him for the earthly throne. “If you will, Sister, examine the scroll.”
Hugh moved aside to make room for her at the table, nodding with what appeared a genuine smile as she took her place beside him. The other man, older, with a severe face lined with old resentments and a more recent illness, examined her disapprovingly.
“It’s papyrus,” she said, “and so likely ancient. These symbols marked at the border of the map are not of Daisanite origin. I would say they are heathen and probably meant to represent heathen gods or perhaps the seven heavenly bodies. It is a map.” She touched it hesitantly, because something about its markings made a bell chime in her mind. “Here are mountains, a river, a forest, and the sea.” She pointed at each as she spoke the word. “It seems the map represents the placement of seven sites, towns perhaps, or temples. Hard to say. Here are six scattered through the land equidistant from the seventh, which lies in the center, ringed by mountains. Each site is represented by seven marks, like arrow points, which echo the larger design: six in a ring around a central seventh.”
“What is it a map of, Sister Rosvita?” asked Anne.
The elder man grunted. Hugh took a step away from the table.
Rosvita had learned in a hard school not to betray surprise, and she did not do so now, as an inkling of what she was looking at lit in her mind. “Perhaps the continent of Novaria, Holy Mother. This sea could be the north sea, and here might be the middle sea, and these the Alfar Mountains. It is a crude representation, if so, but I have seen sailors’ maps that show a similar outline of the coast. I have myself crossed the Alfar Mountains three times and know that they stand in about this place.”
“What do you know about the coming cataclysm, Sister?” asked the Holy Mother. “About the attack of the Lost Ones, who wish to regain their empire and enslave all of humankind?”
“Nothing more than what I have heard, Holy Mother. Prince Sanglant spoke of a cataclysm, as did his mother, when they sojourned briefly at the king’s progress last spring. But they both left when it appeared to them that the king was not willing to heed their words.”
“Did you heed them?”
“I would need more evidence, Holy Mother. I confess it is a difficult story to believe. I have read many chronicles in my time. Many times good souls have cried out to warn the regnant of a coming disaster only to discover that they were mistaken in their reading of the stars, or the omens, or the Holy Verses themselves. God’s will is a difficult book for mortals to read.”
“Are you learned in astronomy, Sister?”
“I confess ignorance in such matters. I learned no more than any apt pupil would in a convent. I can recognize the constellations and I can identify the wandering stars in the sky.” She smiled slightly. “I remember that Aturna takes twenty-eight years to circle the zodiac, while Mok takes twelve, but I confess I cannot recall the periods of the others. Somorhas and Erekes lie between Earth and the sphere of the Sun, so they are often lost in the glare of the Sun. Somorhas appears as both Morning and Evening Star, never at the same time, and sometimes disappears altogether. I pray pardon, Holy Mother. Early in my studies I became enamored of history, and I neglected the other arts in its favor.”
“So it appears,” said the skopos, yet by no means did she speak reprovingly, only to note what she had heard. A bell rang softly. The servingwoman hurried to the door, spoke there with an unseen servant, and returned to the Holy Mother.
“The emissary from Salia, Your Excellence.”
“Let him in.”
A portly man, flushed from the heat, knelt on the steps to kiss the skopos’ ring. “Holy Mother.” He dabbed at his face with a handkerchief, but it might have been fear of the hound and not the heat that made him sweat so freely. “I am at your service.”
“Here is Brother Severus,” said Anne to the emissary, indicating the elderly cleric. “You will take him personally to Salia on your return, and see that his every wish is fulfilled. He is my personal representative.”
“I am at your command, Holy Mother.” He spoke Dariyan with the distinctive Salian accent, the soft “v” hardening, the hard “gn” going soft. “I do not know if we can cross the pass this late in the year. I’ve gotten word that there’ve already been heavy snows in the northern passes, quite untimely.”
“But you have heard no reports from the western passes, Brother. I feel sure that if you leave at once, you will have a successful journey.”
He eyed her with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Perhaps he had heard the rumors that she was a powerful sorcerer, exactly the sort of person whose activities had been condemned as recently as one hundred years ago at the Council of Narvone. It was not something ever spoken of out loud and certainly never to her face.
Or maybe he was only afraid that the black hound was going to lunge to its feet and rip his face off.
“As you command, Holy Mother. We can leave in the morning, if that is your wish.”
“It is.” Anne dismissed him, and the servingwoman escorted him to the door. After a silence, she rose and, with the hound at her heels, came down to the table, smoothing her hand over the ancient papyrus. It had gone yellow with age, flaking at the edges. “What evidence do you need, Sister Rosvita, to be convinced of the danger that awaits us all if we do not act?”
“Perhaps it is impossible to convince me, Holy Mother, without hard evidence, but that does not mean I cannot see the purpose to preparing for such an eventuality, in case it comes about. Yet why would Sanglant’s mother come to Henry and offer an alliance if her people wish only to enslave and dominate us? Can a dialogue not be started?”
“With whom? Where is the Aoi woman now, Sister? Where is Prince Sanglant?”
“I cannot answer either question.”
“The Aoi woman has returned to her people to raise an army, now that she sees that humankind have no will to fight. Prince Sanglant also left to gather an army.”
“For what purpose? How do you know this?”
“Surely you know of that skill commonly called ‘Eagle’s sight’? Eagles are not alone in making use of it.”
The wick of one of the lamps hissed as it came to the end of the oil. The servingwoman hastened to refill the belly of the lamp while Rosvita caught hold of her thoughts, for once so horrified that she could not even voice mindless pleasantries to pass the awkward moment. If Anne could use Eagle’s sight, then she could spy on anyone.
