Quintana of Charyn by Melina Marchetta Read Free Book Online

stone, as if he was writing a secret message that only the gods could decipher.
    ‘What were you doing?’ Froi asked quietly as they stepped out of the chamber onto a landing.
    ‘That’s between me and them.’
    They finally came to a vertical shaft that led down to a lower level, and it was there that Simeon lived.
    ‘I’ve not been invited,’ Arjuro said. ‘So speak to him as you would the Lumateran Priestking.’
    ‘I yell at the Priestking,’ Froi said. ‘I’ve thrown manuscripts at him when he’s forced me to read the jottings … or droppings, as I preferred to call them, of the ancients on their visit to the off lands. You do not want me speaking to the elder as I would the Priestking.’
    Arjuro poked him in the shoulder.
    Froi entered Simeon’s residence. It was covered from top to toe with brightly coloured shards of clay tiles. It was as if someone had smashed a plate to the ground and gathered the pieces to stick on the wall. On the ceiling were the most magnificent frescoes he had seen, better even than De Lancey’s or those in the locked wing of the Lumateran palace where Isaboe’s family had been slain. Simeon the elder was shelling broad beans beside a pot of boiling water. He acknowledged Froi with a tilt of his head and beckoned him close. He pointed at Froi’s cap.
    ‘Can you remove it?’
    Simeon had a cold countenance, unlike the Priestking, and it was difficult to read his thoughts. But Froi had to respect a man who had succeeded in keeping a frightened community thriving not only after the slaughter in the Oracle’s godshouse, but during the years since the curse in Charyn.
    Froi did as he was told and turned, knowing it was thelettering Simeon was interested in seeing.
    ‘Just as confusing as the mark of the lastborn women,’ Simeon mused. ‘But different.’
    ‘Can I see the markings on one of your lastborn girls?’ Froi asked. Because Quintana’s hadn’t made sense to him, he had never truly studied them. Now he had a chance to compare.
    Simeon shook his head.
    ‘Our lastborns have hidden in these caves for eighteen years, so they were not marked when they were of age. But we’ve had visitors from outside and I know the lettering well.’
    Simeon stood and shuffled towards a bench of books piled high. He retrieved a piece of parchment and held it out for Froi to study.
    ‘Yours has stems on the round letters. Here and here,’ he said, pointing to the copy of the lastborn girls’ lettering. ‘I have a feeling that the idiot King’s riders copied it wrong on the girls. So all these years we’ve been trying to decipher words that don’t exist.’
    ‘Do you think you can decipher this?’ Froi said, pointing to his skull.
    ‘Not all Priests are gods’ blessed, Dafar,’ Simeon said. ‘Did you know that?’
    Froi felt strange hearing his true name spoken by the Priest.
    ‘Arjuro says the gods close their eyes and point, and that he just happened to be in their line of vision that day,’ Froi said.
    Simeon didn’t respond.
    ‘Are you?’ Froi asked. ‘Gods’ blessed?’
    ‘No,’ Simeon said. ‘I think I fooled myself as a younger man, but when you meet the likes of Arjuro of Abroi, you realise the difference between ordinary men and those the gods chose to lead us.’
    ‘It’s hard to believe just by looking at Arjuro,’ Froi said.
    Simeon’s expression softened. ‘My grandson Rothen is gods’blessed. He’s with Rafuel of Sebastabol in the Lumateran valley. We’ve not heard from them. We’re beginning to fear the worst.’
    ‘The Lumaterans would never harm them,’ Froi said.
    ‘You don’t know that.’
    Simeon was not the sort of man to fool others with false hope. ‘It’s not only the Lumaterans we fear, Dafar. Arjuro mentioned Zabat of Nebia’s treachery.’
    Froi nodded. ‘But your lads keep to themselves. If they’re as cunning as Rafuel –’
    ‘But they’re not,’ Simeon said, his voice grave. ‘They don’t have the nature of