Nameless (Nameless #1)(50)



“Does your Nameless healer know you’ve uncovered her secret?”

Gryphon blanched. “How did you know about Zo and the bottles?” Gryphon’s ears burned at his use of Zo’s name. Joshua beamed.

“I’ve mastered harvesting information for most of my life, Striker.” She looked down at the little bag in her hands. “Among other things.” The lock of the door finally turned. “I might be old, but I still know what happens inside the Gate.”

Gryphon felt completely naked with his treason exposed. “I know I should have reported her right away, but it didn’t seem … right.”

“You have no need to fear me, son of Troy. I have kept your secret, and will continue to do so.” The Historian led him into the damp shed and lit a well-used candle on a worktable covered with odd glass instruments, scales, and bottles of strange liquids and powders. A sour smell burned the inside of Gryphon’s nose.

“You have not sought me out to discuss the healer.” She left her statement open to let Gryphon explain himself.

Gryphon paused to organize the mountain of questions rushing through his head. How did she know about the Wolf in his barn? Why hadn’t she turned him in for treason? Who was that Nameless in the woods at Eva’s engagement ceremony? And most of all, how could he help save Ajax’s son?

For some reason, he never considered that she might turn his information about the new baby over to the Seer. He supposed he trusted her. But what if he was wrong?

“I know someone.” He paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“Congratulations.” The corner of her mouth rose as she measured out a small amount of liquid into a vial the size of Gryphon’s pinkie finger.

Joshua laughed, but one look from Gryphon silenced him.

“Well, you see. I need to help them with … The nature of the situation is … ”

The Historian held up a hand. “May I tell you a story?”

Gryphon swallowed his angst and nodded.

“Generations ago, there was a mighty swordsman who loved a woman very much. When he approached her kingly father to ask for her hand in marriage, the wise king asked a simple question, ‘How much do you love her?’

The man proceeded to express his feelings, comparing his love to mountains and great waters, treasures, and sky. The king listened intently and when the young man finished he was breathless from his oaths and speeches.

“The king had seen a great deal of the world. Had lived long enough to see past a man’s infatuation to his heart. Atop his golden throne, the king nodded. ‘Words are the trick of men. If you love her like you say, you will prove your words in a quest.’”

Gryphon cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I think you might misunderstand my intentions, Historian. I am not in love.”

The old woman stopped her stirring and gave him a look that made the great Striker blanch.

Gryphon bowed his head. “Sorry, please continue.”

The Historian took a rattling breath and closed her eyes to continue. “The king first instructed the young man to sell everything he owned: his house, his land, his animals, everything but the clothes on his back and the boots on his feet. The young man, determined to win his love, obeyed. When he returned to the king, the king was pleased. ‘Now,’ the king replied, ‘you must find a crucible and fill it to the brim with your tears. When that is done, you must travel until the land meets the sea and back without spilling a drop.’

The young man grew angry at the impossible request, but left, determined to have his bride at any cost.”

Gryphon shifted the weight in his legs. How was this foolish story meant to help him with his own problems?

The Historian continued. “He filled his cup to the brim with his own tears of frustration and longing then set out on his journey over the difficult terrain and violent weather of the season, all without losing a single drop. When he returned to the king, his muscles ached and his hand shook as if the cup carried a great weight. The king examined the cup then drank the man’s tears.”

“Disgusting!” said Joshua.

“But the king wasn’t quite satisfied. ‘You have done well, but if you love my daughter you will perform one final task.’

The young swordsman’s head hung low, but he raised it enough to meet the king’s gaze. ‘I have sold everything I own. I have taken an impossible journey. What more can you ask of me?’”

Gryphon found himself nodding his head in agreement. He couldn’t imagine ever loving someone enough to go through so much trouble.

“The king motioned for one of his men to bring a heavy jeweled blade. ‘Step forward.’ The king set the tip of the blade on a wooden chopping block. ‘Put out your right arm.’

The young man eyed the blade with fear, but only after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed. His right arm was his best fighting arm, possibly his greatest physical possession. He closed his eyes, and tried to picture the woman he loved in his mind, repeating her name over and over again.

The king raised the sword, it sliced through the air and … ” The Historian stopped and yawned. “The rest of the story doesn’t matter.”

“What happened?” Gryphon and Joshua spoke at the same time.

The woman shook her head and sighed. “I have information that can save your friend’s baby, Striker. The question is, what are you willing to sacrifice to keep those around you safe?”

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