Moon Shimmers(78)

I spied a flowering shrub nearby and quickly gathered some of the leaves and blossoms. “I haven’t had fresh kettle-nap tea in years.” The tea was good for soothing the nerves. Speaking of soothing, my ribs were aching, although the pain was less than it had been the day before. I’d have Delilah apply salve to the bruises before bed.

Shade brought out a second pan—smaller than the other, but it would work for several cups of tea—and Chase obligingly filled it from the pond. Movement on the pond’s surface indicated that it was fed from an underground spring, and the ripples of current prevented stagnant water from accumulating. The result was no algae on the surface and no swarms of mosquitoes or other biting insects had gathered over it.

I crushed the blossoms and leaves and dropped them into the water, then sat back, gazing into the fire. It was time. I could feel it, like a pendulum slowly swinging. I withdrew the scroll from my pocket and motioned to Venus. He crossed to me. Roz handed me the Maharata-Verdi, which, unlike its twin, was encased within a magical leather tube. I asked Venus to unroll it, as I slipped the cap off the ivory scroll tube of the other. The ivory was from some ancient animal, long extinct. As I ran my hand along the tube I felt the impression of a huge beast—probably a mastodon.

“The magic within the tube itself is extremely powerful,” I whispered. It seemed counterintuitive to speak in normal tones. I cautiously shook out the scroll within and gently unrolled it. The paper crackled, but it held together, bound by magic and time.

As Chase shone a flashlight beam over it, the image of a map came into view. It was easy enough to read. There was Thistlewyd Deep, and the Tygerian Mountains. The lettering below the scroll was in the same ancient Melosealfôr as the Maharata-Verdi, which I could pick out a word or two of, but the fact was, right now we didn’t need to know what it said. An “x” on the map marked a position in the Tygerian Mountains, near the monastery belonging to the Tygerian monks. Which meant that the Order of the Crystal Dagger had been around for thousands of years.

“I’m guessing the monks might be able to read this,” Roz said. “If you want to consult them. I think we’ll have to, anyway, given the position of that ‘x.’ If that’s the diamond, then it’s on their property and we’ll never get past them to hunt for it without permission.”

“I think you’re right,” I said, staring at the drawing. “That’s near the monastery, which means it’s probably on their mountain. I doubt if it’s in the monastery itself.” I wasn’t sure how approachable the monks would be. Rumors put them as incredibly helpful, or a pain in the ass.

“So, how far from here to the monastery?”

“Four days by horse, without any issues.”

“A few hours by dragon,” Smoky spoke up. “I can fly you there. I can take several of you on my back. Shade can take the rest. Now that we know where we’re going, it’s a lot easier and we won’t even have to go through the Ionyc Sea which, given the circumstances, is best. I’ve been to the monastery before. I know the way.”

I glanced at Annabelle. “What about our horses?”

“I will stay to watch them,” Roz said. “I won’t be welcome at the temple, anyway. They don’t tend to like my kind there. We seem to insult them, for some reason.”

“Lack of control. You take away their control and not much can do that.” Bran turned the handle of the makeshift spit. The loopers were beginning to smell really good and my mouth watered. “The monks, while not celibate, prefer to keep the upper hand with everything, including their sexuality. You remind them that they don’t always have control over their personal responses.”

He turned to the rest of us. “One thing you must understand about the Tygerian monks is that they are incredibly disciplined. Their martial arts, their diet, everything down to the way they dress, brush their hair—it’s all regimented. They train from a very young age. Only boys who haven’t hit puberty yet are accepted into the order, and even then, the younger the better. They spend their lives devoted to the teachings of the temple.”

Chase leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held out his hands toward the fire. “Sounds like the Shaolin monks.”

“I know who you speak of. Yes, there are some similarities although the Tygerian monks haven’t had to make concessions to a modern age. They’re still as deadly and as fierce as their ancestors. They are true fanatics.”

“Are they all boys?” Chase asked.