Private Tales Now In This New Light

And here holding her friend Zinnia in her embrace and in turn being so held, it seemed to Kristen that a subtle promise had been given those many months ago, so subtle that at the time she could not even know it, and that this was part of that promise's fulfillment. That promise, Kristen felt, was something thus: though a great many fears and doubts might come to assail her mind, trust given to her god Aionus would be trust rewarded, for he was a god who loved and shepherded his children, and that no matter how dark the night may seem, even that which appeared to be an evil could be bent to his purpose, and ever did a guiding light, leading to the dawn, form the covenant between the divine and the faithful.

She held the embrace, and remembered many nights of lonely Temple life, and she thought: woe to the written word, indeed.

I w-wont' let you down again.

"I do not fear it, Zinnia," she said with soft affection. "I do not fear it."

Zinnia

Kristen understood—or, at least, understood in some fashion. If nothing else, there was something disquieting about any building whose halls ought be filled with life and vibrance, or maintained such as to be welcoming when not occupied for its purpose.

But gods! Zinnia had such an adorable modesty. Hers was a heart truly incorruptible. Defied she did the image of the Dreadlord of old, whose countenance would be permanently etched with a grim severity.

Kristen turned toward the old church's doors and motioned for Zinnia to follow, and she spoke as she walked, "Then it is time I reveal my purpose for coming to Vel Stratholm. And yes, while the city happened to be so positioned as to allow the convenient convergence of our travels, there is another reason as well."

She stopped by the doors, and said in more hushed tones:

"Some time ago...Zael paid me a visit in Vel Numera."

Zinnia

Kristen pushed open the church door and stepped outside.

"A strange tale he wove, some parts more believable than others. He said he was going after Proctor Kimble—that I do believe without doubt. More dubious am I of his account that Kimble had kidnapped an Elbionese girl of whom he was fond. It stands to reason that he may have been saying that simply to persuade me. But no matter. He wished to know about Sable, no doubt to involve him in whatever the truth of the matter is, and—should Zael ultimately be up to no good—I am certain Sable will handle him, or has handled him, with ease."

Kristen gave a small wave with her porcelain hand, as if casting off all of what Zael had said, save for the relevant part she spoke now:

"During our...talk, I suppose you could call it...he claimed that the razing of Vel Farris was not what the 9th Homeguard officially reported, and that he had saved a girl from there, a 'Heather Hane', and is supposed to have gotten her here to Vel Stratholm. I mean to see if what he has said is true. If so, then we will find this Heather here in the local orphana—"

Orphanage.

Kristen cut herself off mid-word, eyes wide with realization.

Zinnia

When Zinnia said the name, Kristen's own face paled like Zinnia's, as though the two of them were in a race to see who could be drained of color the fastest.

Flustered, and with her mind mostly clouded by the aftermath of the realization, Kristen said, "St. Kolbe's?"

Zael hadn't mentioned the name. All he had said was "the orphanage" in Vel Stratholm.

"Is it...the exact same?"

Were there orphanages elsewhere in Vel Anir which bore the name? Kristen didn't know, and especially wasn't sure in this particular moment. Religion had been outlawed during the Rule of the Houses, but many relics of the past still existed all the same, the name of St. Kolbe being such a one.

Zinnia

Kristen caressed her temple with her flesh and blood hand, and then dragged her hand down her face, this all in the manner of a woman who thought she had done a significant blunder.

And, as much as she wanted to curse Zael for this, she grudgingly had to admit that it was far more likely that, if his story was indeed true, he did not escort the girl all the way to the orphanage. Likely he did not risk entering the city. Still it was that Kristen felt as though she had been, in some strange sense, ambushed by fate or circumstance, that the disparate pieces summing to this situation had been so arranged as to cause both herself and Zinnia an ill.

"Zinnia, had I known in advance..."

Kristen sighed. Little could she say on that front, and its worth measured less, for it would amount only to a tormenting game of speculation.

Instead, Kristen said, "Will you be alright with this? Or shall I confirm Zael's story some other time? It would be no bother."

Zinnia

"Then we shall inquire of the locals," said Kristen as they came to their horses. She mounted, and took the reins in her hand. "And we will have done with this by day's end."

Relief, great and welcome, had come upon Kristen when Zinnia said that she would be alright, and even that such a visit might have some good unlooked-for in it. Blessed Aionus, to be an orphan at such a young age. The depth of it remained unfathomable to Kristen, yet even so she could easily sympathize with those so cruelly stricken by that misfortune, for the very thought of losing her father or her mother was to her the stuff of the blackest of nightmares.

Kristen bid her horse back onto the main thoroughfare from the old church. And as she intended, she stopped every so often to ask of a man or woman in the street about the orphanage of St. Kolbe. Most knew, and only one did not, and by these directions did Kristen and Zinnia come in due time to the street which would carry them down to the orphanage; it was, as it happened, at the very end of the street, where it terminated and all round were the grounds for the orphans to play and to be schooled.

Coming to street's end now, it was exactly as the locals described. The street ended like a period on a page, and the main building of the orphanage of St. Kolbe lay ahead, a small and pleasant fence marking the grounds of the orphanage on either side, other buildings of the complex rising up one or two stories.

Kristen brought her horse to a halt.

"Was St. Kolbe's this large back then?" Kristen asked, curious. "Or has it grown in the years since?"

Zinnia

Normally such growth as St. Kolbe's had evidently seen would mean prosperity. But here the solemn note simply could not be avoided, and one of the unseen costs of the Revolution, and more so now of Gilram's insurrection, was laid bare before their eyes. One of the many prices of war, made manifest. It chilled Kristen, for it brought to the fore the severe conflict between her duty now as a Dreadlord and her desire to start a family; what would come of the good she could do for her country, if grave misfortune struck and she left her children forever in tears?

"Let us go inside, then, and aid in our search by inquiring of one of the matrons."

Kristen dismounted and led her horse to one of the fences and so tethered it there. And with Zinnia she went through the front doors.

Inside the small foyer there was a quiet not quite pristine. From elsewhere in the main building came the muffled sounds of many children, some younger in their voices, some older, and they came as groups of them playing, groups of them talking about this subject or that. One could close one's eyes, put out the knowledge of St. Kolbe's purpose, and imagine the very walls and doors of the foyer holding beyond them a schoolmaster overlooking his young pupils at play, or the collected youth of a small town gathered in their childish delight at some festival. For all the somber nature of the orphanage, this, at least, imparted to Kristen a heartening quality.

A matron from the upstairs rooms, coming down the single staircase with a basket full of clothes in her arms, saw the two arrivals and spoke as she descended: "Oh, just one moment, I will be happy to receive y—"

And then, two steps from the bottom, she got a good look at one of them. She dropped the basket, and clothes tumbled down the stairs and to the floor below.

"...by Anirius," she said breathlessly. "Zinnia? Is...is that you?"

Zinnia

In amazement Kristen watched as Mother Millicent and Zinnia came together into an embrace. Here was a sweetness unlooked-for, and what Kristen feared would be a note of unbroken melancholy had a turn for the better. She smiled as the matron and her former charge, now a Dreadlord and serving the very country which had raised her up, shared their moment.

As the dictates of politeness recommended, Kristen kept her silence, and did not intrude while the reunion played out. In due course could her introduction and the purpose of their visit be said.





Zinnia

With Zinnia's introduction, and the recognition of House Pirian by one of its most beloved names (long had it been for her hearing it since going into those Academy gates!), Kristen said:

"Greetings, Mother Millicent. As Zinnia has said, we come out of a case of curiosity, and we do seek a particular child, if she may so happen to be here. Tell me: is there a girl here by the name of Heather Hane?"

Mother Millicent hardly needed a moment to think. "Why yes, Heather. She's something of a quiet and shy girl, and, I fear, hasn't warmed all that well yet to the others. But some take longer, aye, they do."

Kristen, firstly, was a bit taken aback that Heather even existed. But her surprise, mild even as it was, would be rendered to nothing more than breath in the wind (or, more accurately, transformed into an ember of anger) if the girl herself knew nothing of Zael. And that was what Kristen needed to hear. The truth, so far as she was concerned, could only come from Heather's lips, and thus would Zael either be condemned as a crafty liar, or vindicated.

"May we speak with her?"

"Of course! Give me just a moment." And Mother Millicent collected the fallen laundry and took her basket with her as she disappeared further into the building.

As they waited, Kristen looked to Zinnia and said, "A tumble into the fireplace. Goodness! What happened?"

Zinnia