Free Beneath the Hallowed Hill by Theresa Crater Page A

stones, like a flower at the end of a curved stem.
    Diaprepes sat his silver craft down on the landing pad away from the headquarters of the Crystal Guild and turned to Megan. “This is it, my little dolphin. Do you want us to come with you to the house or drop you off here?”
    Megan glanced around. “Where am I going, exactly?”
    Pleione pointed past the complex to a villa tucked into the hillside.
    “I’ll walk,” she said. “What about the trunk?”
    “Someone will pick it up.” Diaprepes spread his arms and Megan hugged him goodbye, then her mother. She shouldered her bag and, with a quick wave, turned and walked across the landing pad where she took a path that meandered past the large golden buildings. She resisted the urge to look back; that was always bad luck in stories. She climbed the hill, passing garden nooks brimming with color and coming to a splashing fountain. The water drew her and she sat on a stone for a few minutes, letting the sound soothe her. A breeze played with a set of wind chimes for a moment. She walked on. The gardens gave way to an open field that then turned into a stand of almond trees filled with buds. Above the orchard stood the villa, tucked into the hill. Megan scrambled up three steps to the porch and knocked on the door of her new home.
    The house matron, a crone with pillow breasts and grey hair, eight hundred years old if she was a day, led Megan to her room. She introduced herself as Thuya, an Egyptian name. “Here’s the dining room,” she announced as they passed a room set with two long tables. “This is a classroom.” Megan caught a glimpse of a long row of pillows and all shades of quartz set at intervals against the wall. They turned down a corridor. “One of the kitchen gardens.” Green vines climbed a white string lattice. They made one more turn. “Your apartment is the last one on the left.” Thuya opened the door and stood aside. “Welcome, Megan. It’s been a long time since we had a new apprentice. I’m glad I have a novice to look after again.” She smiled, her brown eyes warm. This woman was wide where Megan’s mother was narrow, short where Pleione was tall, but Megan relaxed, comforted by her presence. She shouldered her bag with a word of thanks and closed the door of her new home.
    She was assigned a suite. The first room was a small sitting area with a desk on one side. The sleek chrome and glass console holding her communication screen contrasted with the homey furnishings of her sitting area, a low couch upholstered in a loose teal fabric with a small pine table in front. She went to the desk and ran her finger over the top of the screen, thinking about the stories of how communication used to be telepathic in the not too distant past, how children grew into full consciousness much earlier than now.
    In the back room she found a cozy bedroom with a chest of drawers and a narrow bed covered by a simple coral spread. Her trunk already sat next to it. An alcove held a low mahogany table for an altar, now empty. Megan spent the afternoon unpacking, spreading her shells and pillows, moving them from the front couch to her bed, then back again. She placed a crystal sphere—a gift from her father’s family—in the center of her altar and lay on the bed, where she promptly fell asleep.
    When she woke, the room was dark. She went to her desk and turned on the silver console. Dinner was over. She found her schedule and a map of the facility. “Nine o’clock, meet with Govannan.” She checked the list of names and found he was the head of the Crystal Matrix Chamber. A second message referred her to the rules of the house, which she read twice. She delved into the archives of the order, rapidly shifting between files, trying to decide where to begin. As she read her eyes kept closing, so she pulled the light muslin curtains closed, hung up her clothes, and lay down in the small bed, where she fell asleep again.
    A knock woke her. She propped up