One thing that Chap could never do was send one person's memories to another. He couldn't even send his own to her.
The second memory hadn't been one of Wynn's own, but one of his.
And that was impossible.
Outside the district nearest the sea, Rodian climbed off Snowbird before a beautiful stone mansion. From its uppermost floor one could look over the bay docks to the white-fringed waves rolling into the farther shore. He led his horse to the front walkway and whispered, "Stay."
Snowbird put her head into his back and snorted softly. It was well past noon, and she'd had no breakfastneither had he.
"Last stop," he said, and walked up the triple steps.
He knocked at the ornate front doors framed on each side by triple columns, and a pretty maid with a lace cap answered shortly.
"Hello, Biddy," he said.
She smiled. "Good afternoon, Captain. The baron wasn't expecting you."
"I know... but is he or Master Jason about?"
She shook her head. "They've both gone to temple. The masons are coming to redo stonework on the west side."
Rodian sighed quietly. The last place he wanted to have this conversation was in the temple, but he couldn't put it off.
"Snowbird is out front, and we've had a busy morning. Could you have one of the stable hands find her a stall and bring her some oats and water? I'll walk from here."
"Of course," Biddy answered. "I'll take her myself."
Rodian was well-known at this houseas was Snowbird. He turned and whistled, and the white mare trotted over, empty stirrups bouncing at her sides.
"Go with her," he said, nodding toward Biddy.
Snowbird tossed her head once and blew warm air into his hand as the maid reached for her bridle. Girl and horse disappeared around the mansion's north side.
Rodian crossed the courtyard, out the tall iron gates, and headed up the street. He barely noticed the surroundings filled with fine townhouses and other mansions, and looked aside only once as he passed an eatery called the Sea Bounty. A bit pricey for a captain's stipend, but occasionally he'd succumbed to the establishment's fine cuisine.
Not much farther on he slowed before a large construction built from hexagonal and triangular granite blocks laced with faint blue flecks. Again, a trio of columns graced both sides of the landing before the large front doors.
Commissioned dwarven masons had built the temple generations past. Each one of its large wall stones fit so well that not a bit of mortar had been used to set them. Climbing roses had been carefully nurtured to twine about the triple columns' bases and ran in trellis hedges along both sides of the path from the street to the entrance. No sign identified this sanctuary, only those trios of columnsa simpler designation of the sacred teachings of this place.
Rodian climbed the three front steps of the temple for the Blessed Trinity of Sentience. Before he took hold of either door latch, voices rose from somewhere around the building's left side. Rounding the corner, he spotted a burly dwarf hefting a granite hexagon for inspection. Baron dweard Twynam and his son, Jason, leaned closer.
"Looks fine," the baron said. "I hope these new ones hold up better."
The dwarf huffed disdainfully. "Wind and water always get the best of stone... after many years."
As Rodian approached, the mason set down the stone with a thud that shuddered through the ground.
"Siweard," said the baron with a smile. "Good to see you."
Baron dweard Twynam wa onard Twys tall and thinned by age, with hair and beard neatly trimmedboth gone steel gray. His polished boots, blue tunic, and lamb's-wool cloak fit him perfectly, and his smile reached all the way to his eyes. His son stood in stark contrast.
Jason was barely a head taller than the dwarven mason, though solid for his size. His thick, dark hair curled to his shoulders, and his skin was dusky like his mother's. He rarely smiled, unless he found himself at an advantage of some kind. His near-black eyes shifted constantly, as if seeking any opportunity to take offense or make a challenge.
Rodian found dweard studying him with a serious face.
"What's wrong, my friend?"
"Is anyone else inside?" Rodian asked.
"No... except Minister Taultian and his two acolytes. We've no meetings or gatherings today. Jason and I just wanted to check on the work."
"Can we speak inside? Something unfortunate has happened."
"Of course." And the baron nodded at the mason. "You have things well in hand, Master Brim-Wright. Send the final bill to the sanctuary, and I'll make certain it's settled directly."
The dwarf nodded curtly and began to direct two men working with him.
The temple's backside faced toward the sea, and though set within the city's wealthy district, storms and salt-laden winds had eroded it as much as any other building. It had been a long while since repairs were needed, and Rodian couldn't spot any place in the wall that showed flaws. But better to replace stones before weathering turned to some more troubling imperfection.
dweard gestured to Jason and placed a hand on Rodian's shoulder. "Come. We'll go make tea. My old bones could do with a little extra heat."
The three rounded to the temple's front, passing between the paired triple columns and through the wide double doors. They stepped directly into the main sanctuary room.
Hardwood floors were polished weekly, as were the long tables stretching up both sides of the main chamber to the stagelike altar. But Rodian saw no sign of Minister Taultian or his acolytes. At the room's far end, upon the raised platform's central dais, stood three life-size figures carved from white marble.
A man wearing the clothes of a common laborer stood behind a woman with a book in her arms. Before the pair was a child with long hair, too young to ascertain its gender.
The Toiler, the Maker, and the Dreamer.
Swenen the Fatherthe Toilergathered what had passed and supplied the Mother's needs. Wyrthana the Motherthe Makertended and prepared for what was needed at present. Matenge the Childthe Dreamerimagined future days and what might be.
This trinity maintained past, present, and future for all sentient beings, and always would. The sages in their scholarly fervor read too much into what they uncovered. Their eager speculations led them astray. Life, as well as sentienrinll as sce, had always beenwould always beever-growing and continuous from the first spark of sentience itself. There had been no "great war" that covered the world.
Such extreme interpretation of uncovered relics only created fear and interfered with the natural order. The very idea was offensive, as Toiler, Maker, and Dreamer would've never allowed anything so horrible to occur.
Before stepping fully into the sanctuary, all three men paused to whisper in unity.
"By the Toiler..." And they raised one hand, fingers up with palm turned sideways.
"By the Maker..." And they each closed that hand gently, as if grasping something from the empty air.
"And by the Dreamer..." And they pulled their closed hands, thumb side inward, to their foreheads.
"Bless all who turn this way with heart, mind, and eyes open."
Rodian led the way through the sanctuary. They passed around the dais and through a rear door into the minister's office with a small hearth.
It always remained open and accessible to the entire congregation. Furnished with simple chairs with somber-colored cushions, the room also contained a wide ash-wood desk and two smaller matching writing tables. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with carefully maintained volumes. They held the overview of knowledge and culture of the world, as well as the teachings of the faith.
Knowledge was sacred, and some of these texts contained records of the world's true history, and the manner in which awareness came into being.