The Codex Lacrimae by A.J. Carlisle

the young man, she’d risen before the dawn to find that Pasquale had brought the ship to the great chain that barred the Harbor of the Golden Horn when it closed each night.
    That morning had been the last time she’d seen her father in over four weeks. She’d received various messages while in the Stratioticus house, but had yet to see him in person, or the Maritina , for that matter.
    â€œClarinda Trevisan.”
    Clarinda turned at the voice coming from somewhere in the deeper shadows of the basilica. A group of worshipers stood talking quietly between Clarinda and some broad columns, but past the pillars she saw a cloaked person standing near the entrance to one of the side chapels. The figure raised an arm and beckoned, repeating her name so that it echoed loudly in the church.
    Clarinda passed the altar and approached the figure by the columns. It was a woman, the contours of her body unmistakable even under the turquoise, ankle-length gown she wore beneath the black cloak. The woman pulled the cowl from her hair when Clarinda drew near and the sight made the adolescent gasp — the stranger’s deeply tanned and ovaline features, sea-green eyes, and slightly bemused expression reminded the Venetian girl of her mother.
    Clarinda greeted the stranger in Greek. “Good evening, did you call me by name?”
    â€œ Sì, ho chiamato da uno dei suoi nomi , ” the woman replied with a shake of her head. “I called you by one of your names, but, Child, no evenings shall be ‘good’ for you until your monk returns to the northern lands of his father’s father. Your meaning is understood, however.” A slight smile played across her lips as she gave a small bow. “ Buona sera , Signorina . ”
    â€œYou speak Greek, Italian and the language of the franj, yet with the accent of a Norseman,” Clarinda commented, noting how richly dressed and coiffed the woman was.
    The linen of her gown seemed luminescent in the half-light, and Clarinda didn’t know if that effect was from silken threads twined throughout the patterned fabric or if the woman was, indeed, slightly glowing with an otherworldly aura. The tailor in her wondered at the strange material because she’d never seen its like. Perhaps the woman would tell her where she, too, could get a bolt. If she could return to Venice with that kind of cloth to share with her girlfriends, at least something good would have come from this interminable house arrest in Constantinople!
    The glowing effect became accentuated when the woman raised her French-braided head to regard Clarinda with intensely green eyes. The stare brought Clarinda back to the moment — enough thoughts about her sewing and weaving! There was something strange in the woman’s knowing gaze, and Clarinda felt a need to solve this puzzle. But, the sensation of familiarity almost disarmed her completely. Rather than feeling awkward or uncomfortable, the girl felt as if she were meeting a distant member of her own family after a long absence.
    â€œAnd you, Captain’s Daughter, you speak many languages, don’t you? More languages than all the looms at your family homes and ships combined?”
    â€œI do,” Clarinda replied with a start. Did the woman know she’d been thinking about the nature of the gown’s cloth? Impossible. “How...how is it that you seem to know me, Signora ?”
    The woman chuckled, then beckoned for Clarinda to get even closer.
    Surprisingly, Clarinda let the woman put a motherly arm around her shoulder as they began walking along the columns. She felt comforted at the woman’s touch.
    â€œYou’ve also been to Mimir’s Well, haven’t you? In your dreams.” The woman stopped and turned to look at Clarinda. “You’ve seen the Seer – well, his head, at least — and you’ve seen a Huntsman, as well as one who might become a Codex Wielder. Peculiar