The Blessed

By Barbara Lindsley Galloway

Trufanion Loudermoss and his extraordinary sister Katryanna travel to Port Al Kab on the hope of purchasing the Inn of Glad Tidings, but after losing their life savings, and Kat is convinced she's in love, they find themselves in the woods of the Eretreyians instead. There they hear whispers of Blessed Ones who have been given special gifts at birth, for what purpose no one can guess. The Shadowlanders, the outcasts who live in the shadow of the woods, tell of a legend of an awaited One who will bring healing blessing and hope, even as they revere and fear the pale flower that grows on the woodland trees. But not all celebrate the coming of the Blessed, as Trufanion soon discovers while struggling for his very survival, even as he stumbles onto the mystery of his and Kat's childhood and the death of their parents and uncovers his own destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Lindsley Galloway
• Release date: Jan 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310275173

Barbara Lindsley Galloway

Born in Tennessee; raised in Albuquerque, NMX; now live in Texas.Read every sci-fi book in my junior high and high school libraries (Asimov, Clark, Heinlein), where I elected to spend and work an hour every school day. Also, allegorical fantasy has had a huge influence on my writing. Love J.R.R. Tolkien.Wanted to write stories since I was a child. Was very shy and spent more time watching people than participating in activities. This has served me well in creating 3-dimensional characters.As an adult, I have enjoyed the works of Victor Hugo, Charles Dickens, William Faulkner and Earnest Hemingway, to name a few authors of classical works.Love how times have come around to open doors for independent writers. Everyone should have the opportunity to have their voice heard.

Book preview

The Blessed

by Barbara Lindsley Galloway

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 by Barbara Lindsley Galloway. All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. 

This is a work of fiction. All characters and incidents in this novel are the products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to people living or dead are purely coincidental.

This book is available in print at most online retailers 

Cover design by Barbara Galloway

Table of Contents

Names and Pronunciations

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Map

Other books by this author

Names and Pronunciations

Al Kab: al-KAHB

Al Niyat: all-NEE-yat

Alderamin: al-DER-a-min

Ankaa: ANG-kah

Beid: BYED

Deneb: DEN-ebb

Giselle: ZHEE-zell

Ras Algethi: rah-sell-GAYTH-ee

Rigil Kentaurus: RYE-jel-ken-TAW-russ

Scarjheen: Scar-ZHEEN

Warning: The Blessed contains the story of a character from Rista’s Tale, set on the planet Niwi Erda, in mankind’s distant future. To understand the history of all that has passed, it is gently suggested that one should read that tale first.

Prologue

Two years before the Cleansing of the plague Scarjheen, before the Restoration of the planet, there was a young girl who loved a boy. Merlea had soft brown hair that curled around her face and soft amber eyes that radiated kindness. Merlea met Trufanion when he knocked a baby bird out of its nest by accident and they rescued it together. She vowed that as long as she lived, Trufanion would be the only one that would ever capture her heart.

Chapter 1

My name is Trufanion Loudermoss, and this is the story of Kat and Wes. At first look, you might believe it is my story, and in a way, it is, but only as a witness to all that happened. I tell you this for remembrance sake; that in the telling of such a tale, you might embrace it and pass it on to your children, thereby gifting it another heart in which to live.

Kat—Katryanna Loudermoss—was, and forever will be, my sister, and Westerhaven Fallenbank, the kindest, gentle man I ever met, who carried his love in a selfless heart.

I should have thought it was Kat’s thick, golden-red hair that fluffed out with natural curl to just below her shoulders, or the green jewels she called her eyes or the dimples near her perfect mouth, that mesmerized Wes—any one of them would have done in any normal man. I often wondered if he noticed the incomparable spirit that struggled in her small body, or the intense way she loved, or perhaps her courage.

But Wes told me years later, that upon meeting Kat, it was as if time stood still and his heart ceased to beat. He sensed in her a sweet fragrance so beautiful that he had tried to grasp it so it would be forever with him; that if he had lost it, his very life’s purpose would be forfeit. From her lips rose a melody of a pure heart whenever she spoke. I was captured—utterly and completely taken—and loved her immediately.

As to Kat’s spirit and determination, she never shied away from doing right. Nor did she shy from telling me how I ought to raise her. This I did the best I could after the Scarjheen took both our parents. Kat was only a baby then, barely two years of age, and I, a frightened lad of fifteen. Keeping us together scared the boy out of me and gave me the courage to take care of us both. It has now been twenty-three years since that frightening time which is better left in the hidden recesses of my mind and I hesitate to even mention it, except in telling their story.

Kat and I look nothing alike that would even hint to our sibling relationship. Besides the difference in age between us, I have gold-brown eyes and my thick blonde hair is straight and long—which I keep tied behind my neck—and my dimple is in my chin. I am also ruggedly handsome, as Kat tells me often. But Kat did not care what I looked like during our beginning years, or understand what had happened to our parents; she needed a mother and father. I became both as much as a naïve boy could be, and managed, by grace of the Supreme One, to be provider.

Katryanna was gifted; more than I thought possible for a human child. It seems as if every child born during a few years after the Restoration, as Wes calls it, was blessed with unusual talents. Katryanna was four or five at the time I took notice, but seemed to be given an abundance of the blessings of the Eretregians nonetheless. Whether it was by favor, or from pity for being an orphan, Kat was touched by grace. And so she became one of the Blessed Ones. I might even go so far as to say that Kat was given her blessing to make her a match for Wes.

I tell this story—my part of it, at least—from memory, and from bits and pieces collected along the way. So, it is as close to the truth as possible. Whether you believe it or not, is a choice your heart—not your head—must make.

In other days, Kat and I would have travelled to Port Al Kab—a flourishing trading city on the southeastern side of the continent of Rigil Kentaurus—from Ankaa by barging up the Faldwin River to the sea and sailing by ship down the eastern coast. Or, we could have barged the other route down the Faldwin to Beid and sailed around the western side to round the tip. But, those choices are no longer available. In the first years after the Restoration, our continent rose quietly out of the sea to become connected to the others: Alderamin, Ras Algethi, and Al Nyat. The water that fed the lives and enterprises of the populace gradually dwindled to nothing at first, and many cities shriveled including Ankaa. In that, we were most unfortunate and lost much of our livelihood.

But Port Al Kab lies on the sea no longer. It was left with a rather large hole—if that word can be used—to the south. Around the time Port Al Kab breathed its near last, an unusually heavy and potentially devastating rain—along with the last of the ground tremors—brought a new river now fed by the sea and stretched along the eastern side of what was Rigil Kentaurus, filling the hole with water and reviving the life of Port Al Kab.

It still has not yet been decided upon what name should be given to this great land as no one leaves it and has no need to differentiate it from any other, and most people continue to call familiar places by what names they were already known.

The muddy bed that rose with the lands gave rise to great fertile valleys that cross from one side to the other of this new land—valleys so green that grain stalks grow twice as high as a man, with kernels the size of the bowl of a teaspoon, and flowers vibrant with lush, fragrant petals the size of a man’s head startle the eye in vibrant hues. Strange new roots with edible leaves, succulent berries and deep red and purple vegetables on wild, curling vines grow amidst woody shrubs bearing bright orange fruit. All that grows in the valleys feeds our people so well, the population of the humans has exploded at a phenomenal rate. If I had only known to claim a bit of this green land, I would now be a rich farmer instead of a struggling merchant who waited patiently for my business to die.

The most adventuresome and wealthy left to seek their fortune in the fertile valleys, leaving the poorest of the poor to scrape for their livelihood in gutted cities, and thieves to cheat them. Growing towns have sprung up along the new river in the north, and the two in the south which makes the traversing of our continent possible. Those who saw the wealth in this new land have become wealthy themselves, while the price of a small, tamed parcel has tripled and the poorest of the populace fight over the old, deserted land which has turned to wild and slum.

I do not think I actually needed convincing to go to Port Al Kab although at the time I thought it needed doing. It is not that I had never been to the port city before, which I had not, but I had not considered that we would ever need to leave Ankaa, so entrenched were we.

You see, Kat and I owned a fish shop. It was hard work; a nasty, smelly enterprise, but not once did Kat ever complain. I could tell she would have much rather preferred to sell flowers or fruit, and it finally came to my understanding that Kat no longer ate fish or seafood of any kind.

While we had become moderately successful in our little shop at one time, it had become a struggle. I longed for something else: an inn; a place where there was no lack of patrons, and we would hear exciting tidbits of the valleys and meet new and interesting people bringing sweet fruits, furniture made of new wood, elegant jewelry from veins of bright metals and cloth goods woven from the fuzzy bolls of fibrous plants. I had heard of such an inn through a friend, for sale in Port Al Kab, and Kat had promised me her help in running the place.

Kat had tried to convince me that we should not stay at the Inn of Good Tidings unannounced—as was my intent—to ‘watch how things were handled’. She also cautioned me against selling our pitiful little shop until we had something else in hand. She did not succeed on either point. I sold our shop on a chance offer before all hope had fled and we were forced to shut our doors.

And so we sailed down the new river Deneb with its fresh vegetation and salty scent to Port Al Kab and found a sullen carriage man who would carry us and our baggage—a medium-sized, locked, wooden box included—to the inn. We carried our bags to the desk and were given keys to two little identical rooms across a hall from each other: each contained a bed—suitable for one—with a bright cover, a small, plain wooden table with a lamp full of clean oil, and a not-well-used wooden chair with a plump cushion waiting under a lace-curtained window. A small wooden wardrobe stood empty next to the chair.

After securing the box under my bed and refreshing ourselves in the privy at the end of the hall—one side for the ladies and the other for the men—we found a cozy table near an open window in the dining room whose little linen curtains whipped noisily in the afternoon breeze. The flapping was a little too much for my taste. Kat, however, reveled in the breeze that lifted her hair in gentle puffs; a breeze which made her smile. Across the room, a thick stone hearth sat cold and lifeless, for the chill of winter had not yet begun.

Tell me, Tru, Kat said, Do you really want to drag me around the city, when you could be with any one of a number of beautiful women who swoon when you pass by?

"I am with a beautiful woman," I said, appreciating the looks of admiration that came my way.

Only because it’s my birthday.

You only turn twenty-five once.

Kat sighed and rested her chin on her hand while her elbow sat unashamed on the table. You promised you’d tell me why you never married, when I turned twenty-five. So now, I’m waiting, although I must confess to you, the sport of it has long since passed. I no longer wish to meddle with your feelings.

I smiled with relief. Thank you. Kat was the dearest person in the world to me, but I had no desire to discuss the girl I had loved and lost at thirteen when Kat was but a baby. One day we were in Beid, and then suddenly, my parents uprooted us—overnight in fact—and took us to Ankaa. Merlea’s family stayed in Beid as far as I knew and I never saw her again. For two years, I begged to be allowed to see her, but could not persuade my father to go back.

To my amazement, Kat responded to my thoughts, You’ll see her again one day; under curious circumstances, for she has not stayed in Beid.

Speechless, I could only stare. Had I perhaps talked in my sleep on a lonely summer’s night? Or had she the ability to read my thoughts from my face? How did Kat know?

As I sat silenced by my own sister, an older gentleman with a cane stopped by our table. He was large and muscular, with an apron covering his chest and hips. Dark gray streaked his thick, dark hair that curled just under his ears, and his face was large but kind. In his hand, he carried a half-opened blossom of brightest pink. It surely came from the valley: it was the largest flower I had ever seen. Its scent rose to my nose as he offered it—with a nod—to Kat.

My son insists that every gentle lady who passes through these walls be honored so, he said.

Tell your son, good proprietor, that this gift is perfect, for this is a special day and I accept it with a most appreciative heart, said Kat.

If you’ve a mind to tell him yourself, good lady, then he can be found in the library, the gentleman said with a wink. As usual. He sighed then, and I laughed. It seemed to me that I was not the only unattached man in this city.

I will do it, Kat said, jumping to her feet at once. Kind, sir, will you point me in the right direction?

The third room down the hall on the left, he said, and I noticed he smiled to himself as his cane tapped against the floor. It was one of those secret smiles one gets when some mischievous prank has been set in motion. I heard the start of a crusty melody as he turned to the kitchen.

Not wanting to miss the exchange between my sister and the mysterious man who had delighted her so, I left the table and followed Kat. She knocked quietly on the door, which was closed.

Please enter, said a male voice.

Kat cautiously opened the door and peered around it into the room. A young man about Kat’s age with handsome features jumped to his feet and swung wide the door upon seeing Kat. He was slender and muscular; tall, but not quite as tall as I was, nor as muscular. He held an open book to his chest.

Allow me, he said.

I may be mistaken, but I’m quite sure that neither Kat nor the gentleman spoke for a few moments after that, as each—quite plainly—was awestruck of the other.

Forgive me, my Lady, said the man finally. He ran his hands through golden hair that grew to the collar of his undertunic. His blue eyes had fastened on Kat and I felt at that moment like a bug on the wall.

Kat stood there holding her flower, looking very beautiful; glowing in point of fact, with her dimples and perfect, white teeth. A bell rang out somewhere.

May I help you in some way? he asked.

Oh, said Kat, suddenly remembering why she had come. I wanted to thank you for the flower. She blushed and blurted out, It’s my birthday, today, and…this is an especially lovely gift.

You are most welcome, said the man, but I cannot decide which of you is the most beautiful. Please forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Westerhaven Fallenbank. Please call me Wes.

I’m Katryanna Loudermoss, but everyone calls me Kat.

I coughed at that moment. Kat looked up at me as if to say, ‘Oh? And what are you doing here?’ She smiled. This ruggedly handsome man is my brother, Trufanion.

Some call me Tru, and it is a pleasure, sir, I said.

And have you both graced our inn for business, or have you come for rest?

Kat and I looked at each other, full of excitement. We have come hoping to purchase your inn, I said.

Wes was clearly surprised. You should have sent word as to your intentions. My father signed an agreement with another the day before yesterday. I am so very sorry. Perhaps we can make it up to you somehow. Have you a room with us?

We do, said Kat. We’ve barely arrived from Ankaa and were about to order one of your fine meals. The Inn of Good Tidings, which you might wish to know, has a most wonderful reputation in other places of this land besides Port Al Kab.

My father will be pleased to hear it, said Wes.

And you are not? asked Kat.

I am pleased for his sake, said Wes, but I have been preoccupied of late and have not spent much time in Port Al Kab. Now as to the debt we owe you, we will write your room as paid in full. How long did you intend to stay?

Permanently, I said, not in jest.

Kat sighed with an air of disappointment. I suppose now, it’s to be whatever will let us see the city in a proper view. Perhaps three days and nights?

Then you shall have it, said Wes, with three meals for each day for the both of you.

You are too generous, sir. Kat smiled, raised the blossom to her face, and took a little whiff of its fragrance. Your kindness will put your poor father out of business.

"It is not the inn who will foot this bill, said Wes. Now come, you have lingered far too long on my account. I would not want you to go to bed with an empty stomach. May I escort you to your table?" He held out his arm, and Kat took it, watching his face as if she drank in every feature. Wes listened to every word Kat said as if he had never seen a beautiful woman before. I trailed along holding the book Wes had absentmindedly thrust into my hands.

Our table waited for us, with glasses of cold water and a bowl of fresh bread still hot from the oven. The brightly painted shutters outside the windows had been closed and the curtains drawn.

May your meal be blessed, Wes said as Kat and I were seated. You are not held to the house dish. Please order whatever you wish and I’ll see to it that cook fulfills your every desire.

Kat beamed at him. You would spoil us, sir, but we will gladly eat what has already been prepared. Would you stay and eat with us? If she had not asked, I would have. There was something genuine about the young man that made me like him immediately, but there was something else I could not quite define; a sadness, perhaps? He wore an air of deep conviction and maturity rare in one so young.

I have already had evenmeal, replied Wes, but I would enjoy staying with you for a while. Please allow me to escape for a few moments. He smiled at Kat and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back, he held a beautiful white, stringed instrument that he rested on his lap as he sat. He smiled as he began to expertly pluck the strings and sing:

A little bird sat on a tired old branch

And sang ’til his heart gave out;

And the Daughter came out above the trees

And glow bugs danced upon their knees

And the little bird went to sleep.

With ne’er a worry and ne’er a care

The little bird woke and chirped in his nest

While the green leaves rustled and swayed.

The little bird flew to an old tree stump

With a tweet and a twitter and a care-me-not

And the clouds rolled by with a sweet, spring rain

And a million drops fell on the terrain

And the little bird got soaked.

With a grumbling twitter, the little bird fumed,

And flew to his nest while the wet leaves drooped;

And the little bird slept fast.

When he woke in the morning, he peeked outside

And warbled a happy tune;

For the clouds had gone and the Mother rose bright

And the wonderful day was a glorious sight.

And the little bird hopped with glee.

So the little bird sat on a tired old branch

And sang ‘til his heart gave out.

Wes smiled once more and Kat laughed. The other customers clapped and cheered and Wes stood and bowed with his arms extended as would have a musician at a market fair. At this time, an errand boy in a clean white tunic ran to our table and presented Kat with the most beautiful bouquet of deep burgundy and white blossoms I had ever seen. Large, deep-green leaves pushed throughout the bouquet and added an appealing freshness. Wes watched Kat when she glanced up, her eyes bright and beautiful, with a smile no man could resist. Because you take my breath away, he said. He bent to his music and began again:

Morning breaks, daylight singing

Open blossoms, feathers winging

Lovely day has come.

Mother low, daylight waning

Wilted flower, fatigue reigning

Lovely day is long.

Summer’s even, daylight falling

Scented gardens, night is calling.

Lovely day is past.

Wes then launched into a series of musical delights with incredible fingering that filled the heart with happiness, sadness and longing, and then a beautiful, haunting melody of the sort that lingers long in the mind far after the hearing is past.

By the time Wes had finished entertaining us, our meal had come accompanied by the aroma of spices and herbs. The evening’s repast consisted of tender, roasted rock goose with dark gravy; sweet green lentils with orange korret roots; and a dark red fruit sauce to spoon onto our freshly-baked loaf of bread.

Where do you find such recipes? Kat asked between mouthfuls.

Most were created by my mother, said Wes. A few I discovered, but the cooks adapted them, quite well I will add, to the desire of my mother.

I shifted in my chair and reached for the bread. The crust was fresh and crisp, and would not pull apart no matter how hard I tugged. I tried my knife and managed to mangle the bread beyond recognition. Would you consider joining us in the morning? I said as a distraction from my embarrassing dilemma. We have never been to Port Al Kab before and would like to see her through the eyes of a native.

Thank you for the invitation, said Wes. I now find myself torn between packing for our departure from my boyhood home, and escorting Katryanna. The latter is more to my liking. I do need a diversion from these past weeks. All right then, would you be so kind as to join me for morningmeal tomorrow before our excursion? He had been talking to the both of us, I was sure of it, but his eyes never left Kat’s face.

I would hate to take you from your duties, Kat said.

I can only spare until midday, but perhaps we can share some time every morning until you leave for your home?

That is agreeable, I threw in.

Wes glanced at me and nodded. Until tomorrow, then; Katryanna, Trufanion. He picked up his musical instrument and went back to the library.

No sooner had he gone, Kat said with all seriousness, I’m going to marry Wes. She then put her hand on my arm and smiled her ‘there is not a thing you can do’ smile.

I put down my fork. I knew better than to laugh. Kat, you’ve only just met him. How can you say such a thing?

It is our destiny, she replied. I love him. This I cannot explain. I just know that I have met my husband.

Don’t you think Wes should have a say in this matter? I knew as soon as I said it, that what Kat said was at least partly true. I had seen something pass between them, something special. Something had clicked.

When we retired to our rooms after dinner, Kat took her single pink flower and bouquet. She held them close and smelled their fragrances. A sweet tenderness filled her face; I had never seen her look so radiant. She left me at her room with a smile on her face and her eyes twinkling. I’ll see you in the morning, then, dear brother. She sighed and closed her door.

I went to my room, wondering about the day. Here I had planned to purchase an inn, and found myself in the middle of my sister’s fantasy. I wondered how Wes would react to the news when Kat announced her plans.

In the morning, Wes met us in the dining room, half full of sleepy-eyed patrons drinking cups of hot milk with strong tea. The shutters had been opened and an early morning light broke into the room with a quietness that lingers expectantly before the onset of industry.

Kat wore a green tunic and pants that set off her eyes. The necklace of stone pearls on her throat—which I had given her for her birthday—seemed to softly glow as they touched her skin.

I see you’re wearing the blue, she said with her beautiful smile. It sets off your gorgeous brown eyes. Good, maybe you can find a woman to marry and go off somewhere.

Are you trying to get rid of me? I feigned shock and disbelief.

Yes.

Wes was genial when we met him. Blessed morning, he said. I trust your accommodations were satisfactory. He led us to a table much like all the others, in an inconspicuous corner. "This is my favorite place to dine. One can sit quietly—unnoticed—for the most part, by the guests.

Ah, I said, The guests clamor for music.

Yes, and I give it to them while I’m here—most of the time.

You don’t live here? Kat raised her eyes in surprise.

No. This was my parent’s inn. Ah, our morningmeal has arrived.

Stacks of hand-sized flatbread covered with a thick fruity sauce, a plate of hot biscuits sliced in two and dripping with butter, and slices of seasoned meat fresh from the broiler were laid on the table by a serving girl who smiled at me.

Do your best, said Wes.

I could never get used to food like this. Kat picked up a biscuit and licked the butter from its dripping mouth.

Another young lady said the same thing to me once, long ago, said Wes.

And where is the young lady now? I asked, helping myself to the meat and flatbread.

I imagine she’s doing the same thing I am.

Eating morningmeal? asked Kat.

Wes laughed. Most probably; I meant teaching.

You’re a teacher? Kat said with surprise.

Among other things.

We ate well. Kat consumed everything on her plate with relish and asked for more. It pleased me to see her eating for once. She looked too thin, having eaten little these past few weeks.

When we finished, Wes took us outside to the front of the inn where clacking carts and rickety wagons aplenty already traversed the dirt road—pounded hard by the feet of human and beast and rutted by narrow wheels—that led to the market by the harbor. The air was heavy with moisture from the lake. Low, dark clouds moved slowly by aid of a cool breeze.

It may rain today, said Wes, by the look of things.

I don’t mind spending my day indoors, said Kat. The trip from Ankaa has worn me out. She put her arm under mine and leant her head against my shoulder.

Then let’s ride today, said Wes.

We went around to the large side yard where the animals owned by the inn’s guests were kept: a yard devoid of grass where dung lay steaming in the sunlight and a row of wooden stalls grey with age and weather lined the outside wall of the inn.

I have a young capallina by name of Fawnee. She’s gentle and obedient. Come Fawnee, Wes called. A young capallina answered back with a snort, peering out of her stall at hearing her name. She became excited at seeing Wes and must have known she would soon be on an errand.

Did you know, Wes asked as he drew Fawnee with a piece of fruit, that capallinas are a relative of the camels of old earth?

I know nothing about old earth, said Kat, reaching out a hand to scratch the capallina behind the ears.

Perhaps one day, I’ll show you a picture of them. Capallas were bred first as a strong work animal, smaller than camels, but were found to be too strong for the general populace to handle. That fact necessitated the breeding of a much smaller, gentler cousin.

Wes deftly attached Fawnee’s harness to a nice wagon. It had a sun-shade roof, as many did nowadays. There was plenty of room on the second bench, where I climbed and seated myself. Wes helped Kat up to the front. I noticed her hand lingered on his a bit longer than I preferred. There it was again; something passed between them that I could not read.

Kat sat more to the middle, nearer to Wes. We were off. The yard boy opened the gate for us to pass through, and out onto the busy street we went, careful of the pedestrians.

Where are you taking us? Kat asked, drawing her cloak around her shoulders and settling comfortably for the ride.

The smell of bread from a street vendor accosted us as someone shouted Hot bread! and beat a noisy boom on a drum. Off to the left, someone played a little melody on a musical instrument I did not recognize.

I know that tune, said Kat, humming. It stands to be in the key of C, but . . . , there! That one note is sour.

Are you a musician? Wes asked.

Kat has a musical ear, I said. Her voice is melodious, with perfect pitch, I’m told. I know nothing of music, but I can appreciate it.

What instrument do you play? Wes asked politely.

Kat shrugged. A little of this; a little of that.

She can play anything she touches, I said with pride.

A true musician! Wes exclaimed. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.

I prefer my little reed, said Kat. It had the sound of raindrops falling in a wood from atop the highest leaf to the lowest branch; and the joyful dance of a happy leaf as it swirls in the wind.

Had? said Wes.

I lost it on our journey here.

A disappointed poetess as well, Wes said, clearly moved. Then I know of the perfect place to take you and it is not far from here. He shook the reins and Fawnee trotted off to the left on a narrow street. We reached a simple grey-and-white-marbled stone building with a large, high walkway in the center, enclosed by a tall, wooden fence covered in healthy sprouting vines. Wes stopped the wagon and tied Fawnee to a post. As he helped Kat descend the wagon, he took her by the hand. I could not hear what he said to her, but she nodded in response. I was left to follow behind as we crossed the walkway through which floated a pretty tune, and into a breathtaking garden.

There, nine young musicians sat on stone blocks that matched those of the building, amid various blooming shrubs. Wide trees with low branches covered with tiny white blossoms spread out with a welcoming shade as if they had been pruned with that end in mind. The tallest trees had long, thin, drooping limbs that hung to the ground, with offshoots made of tiny, opposing leaves. I fingered one twig to find the tiny leaves responding to my touch by closing with a soft shudder.

Someone called out, Wes! How good to see you today! Will you join us?

I had not planned to, but I’ve brought new acquaintances to enjoy the session instead. This is Katryanna Loudermoss and her brother Trufanion, come from Ankaa to visit our city.

Good to know you; I’m Jeffers, said a tall, thin man with wild hair who appeared to be the oldest of the group. Are you musicians?

I hear Katryanna plays and sings, said Wes. I’m anxious to give her an audience.

Yes, indeed; please sing for us, said Jeffers.

"Do you know The Valley of Lor?" said a petite child-woman whose near-white hair fell to her knees.

No, I’m sorry, said Kat.

Well, then sing what you know and we’ll improvise, said a second man, also very young.

All right, said Kat. She breathed in deeply, and opened her mouth to allow her melodious soprano voice expression:

Precious the moment when love is beginning

Like a bud on a stalk as it breaks through to light.

With delicate breaths each moment winning

Exquisite strength to escape birth’s hard night.

And sweet is the moment when love has surrendered

To kind, precious whispers that capture the soul.

In rapturous quiver, in glorious plunder

Two hearts becoming eternity’s whole.

Precious the moments when love is maturing

With touches of sweet breath reviving the time.

In embraces of strength; in kisses nurturing;

Two hands entwining eternity’s rhyme.

When Kat had finished, a rousing cheer came forth amid appreciative clapping. I was very proud, but little did I know how prophetic this song would become.

You have captured me, said Wes. Compared to you, I sound like a dying croaker.

Kat laughed. Your voice is perfect, Wes. I’ve never heard any better.

Sing another, requested a third man.

One more, said Kat, and then I should like to hear you play. She sang a mournful composition:

There was a time when darkness filled the land;

And all men’s hearts wept for glory’s loss.

Who could have known what pain and sorrow

Lay for man upon future’s morrow?

Oh wretched soul; Oh sad despair,

How came we to such hopeless end?

Through black night crying; nightmare’s terror dream,

While darkness lingers strong with angry grip

We search for answer to thwart the horrid night

And wait for dawn upon a golden right.

Suddenly silver threads break darkness’ back and

Truth’s sword pricks night to light the way.

Through rays of life reach down a Savior’s hand

And hope restored by