Consorts of Heaven

by Jaine Fenn

  Sais’s mind extracted its price in dreams that night, though at least they drew on images from his lost past: his sister as an adult, sitting in a luxurious bedroom, a look of horror on her face; the two of them standing by an open grave, his arm around her; sitting beside her watching a dramatic sunset over water fade into darkness.

  Soon after they set off the next morning it started raining and the physical discomfort drove Sais further inside himself. When, tired and bedraggled near the end of the day, he heard a woman’s nagging voice, he cried out, without thinking, ‘God’s sake, stop fussing, Elarn!’

  As soon as the words left his lips the world crashed back in on him. On the road ahead, Damaru had picked up something (he later found out it was a dead crow), and Kerin (it was her he had snapped at) was trying to get him to put it down. Or rather, she had been. Now she was staring at Sais, as were Fychan and Einon.

  Somewhere in his head the connection had been made between two forceful women in his life and he’d called one by the name of the other. He’d also used an oath that came from a religion other than that of the Skymothers, something he hoped Einon wouldn’t pick up on. But he had his first concrete piece of information: he had a sister called Elarn.

  He told the others not to worry, that he was fine. He didn’t feel it. He felt torn between the vivid, mundane, alien present and his hidden, painful past.

  He started to have sessions with Einon every third night, even when they were in dormitories - now he was used to it, he could fall into the trance easily. The couple of days’ gap allowed the uncovered memories to expand and be absorbed. He put up with the unpleasant dreams and daily fugue states and slowly rebuilt his early life: he remembered his parents, his few childhood friends and more about the house where he’d grown up. He knew what it felt like to be held by his mother, the safe, milky softness of her. He recalled the less luxurious places where they’d stayed in his early childhood, and smelled the new furniture smell of the house. He heard the sea through an open window as it beat at the cliff below his room. He rediscovered names and functions for items unknown here. The level of detail, and the contrast to his current, primitive surroundings, confirmed that he was remembering, not inventing.

  He walked a fine line with Einon, translating what he remembered into terms the priest could relate to whilst avoiding details obviously outside the other man’s experience. Neither of them mentioned the weird oath Sais had come out with.

  Fychan was enjoying his once-in-a-lifetime trip to the full, and Damaru was less trouble than Sais had expected, possibly due to his mother’s careful and unwavering attention. Kerin still wasn’t talking to him, though he’d seen the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Perhaps she was thinking he was driving himself too hard. Maybe she had a point.

  One day, about a week out from the City, they took their lunch sitting on the grass verge by the side of the road as usual. It was pleasantly warm and Sais lay back and flung his arms over his head. His hand brushed something damp and a moment later he felt a sharp pain in his right thumb. He snatched his hand back and sat up. Specks of white froth covered the side of his hand and on closer examination he found a tiny scratch at the base of his thumb. He wiped his hand on his clothes.

  During the afternoon, the pain in his thumb got worse until his whole hand started throbbing. The redness spread and the skin soon felt taut and hot to the touch. By the evening the red scratch had developed a head of pus with a tiny black point in the centre, and he felt light-headed and queasy.

  This damned place seemed determined to do him in.

  Though the injury might be enough to convince Kerin to speak to him again, he decided to try and deal with it himself.

  They were in a dormitory of eight beds, and he hung back when the others went down to the common-room, saying he was going to rest for a while before coming down to eat. He had to open Einon’s pack one-handed; any pressure on his wounded hand resulted in distant waves of pain and nausea. Though that wasn’t what he was looking for, when he found the flameless lantern he got it out and examined it. There was a small switch on the base. He flicked the switch. As he expected, cold white radiance filled the room. He put the lantern on the floor. He’d need good light.

  Finally he found the razor and managed to get it out of its leather sheath. He had an idea he needed to clean - no, sterilise - it, and he went over to the oil-lamp on its shelf by the door, and reached up to run the blade through the flame. Then he sat back against the bed and grasped the blade’s handle with his good hand. The wounded hand almost seemed to pulse.

  Before he could lose his nerve he sliced across the swelling.

  But he was using his off hand, and even as he felt the rush of hot pain he knew he’d screwed up. He’d cut too low, going deep into the flesh at the heel of his thumb, but missing the infected area. Blood started to pump from the wound with terrifying speed. He dropped the razor and grabbed his wrist.

  Leaning against the bed he tried to lever himself up, but all the strength had gone out of his legs.

  ‘Mothers preserve us!’

  He looked up to see Einon in the doorway, staring at him in horror.

  How cruel of the Weaver to test her so! One day she might be able to look on Sais and not wish the Abyss would swallow her up. One day her pierced heart would heal. One day . . . but not yet.

  And now he was hurt and Einon had ordered her to go to him, to touch him, to heal him.

  She obeyed the priest. It was her duty to the Mother of Mercy - and for all she wanted to hate Sais, she could not.

  When she reached the dormitory, she found Sais sitting on the floor by Einon’s bed, his face pinched and white. His right hand, which he held in his left, was covered in blood. A blood-stained blade of what looked like skymetal lay at his feet. As she approached he gave her the foolish, pained smile of a man who knows he has made an idiot of himself.

  Einon picked up the flameless lamp from the floor and reached under it. The light went off at once, leaving the room full of shadows.

  Kerin said, ‘Gwas, would it be possible to light your lantern again please, so I can see to tend my patient?’

  ‘Ah, aye, Chilwar. A good idea.’ Another touch, and the light returned. Einon reached for the skymetal blade, then thought better of it and went to stand near the door. Kerin had seen that reaction before: he had a problem with blood.

  Kerin asked Fychan to fetch clean water and linen. When he left she wiped the worst of the blood from Sais’s hand. He had a nasty-looking bite, though the blood came from a fresh cut just below it.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked brusquely.

  ‘Something on the roadside bit me. It was living in some sort of white froth.’ He was careful not to look at her.

  ‘Spit-weevil. We have them in the mountains.’ She looked over at Einon. ‘Gwas, may I ask a favour?’

  ‘What is it, Chilwar?’

  ‘Sais has an infected bite, which must be cut to release the poison. Your skymetal blade would make a far cleaner cut than my knife. Would you consider helping me by lancing the wound?’

  ‘I—I am not sure I could.’ Einon frowned. Then he said, ‘But in this case I am sure the Mothers would allow you to wield skymetal, Chilwar. You may use my razor to help Sais.’

  That was what she had hoped he would say. ‘Thank you, Gwas.’

  Finally Fychan returned. She had him tear the linen into bandages while she washed Sais’s hand. Sais tensed, but did not cry out.

  Then she took his hand in hers and murmured, ‘Look away, and do not move your hand, no matter how much it hurts.’

  He gave a tiny nod and turned his head to the side.

  She drew the blade across the bite.

  Blood and pus spurted from the wound. She squeezed the skin on either side to get more pus out. Sais made a rasping noise deep in his throat, but kept his mouth shut and his hand still.

  Causing him pain gave her no pleasure at all.

  When she was sure
she had purged him of all infection, she bound his hand. As she tied the dressing in place, he murmured, ‘Thank you.’

  She pretended not to hear him.

  His hand bleed freely in the night and she rebound it the next morning. There were no signs of further infection, and the slight fever she had felt on him had receded. She told Einon that Sais was fit to travel.

  As she had managed to talk to Sais and not die from the pain of it, she wondered if she should lift the am-annwn. No: she needed more time to heal her own unseen wounds. She knew Sais had done nothing to deserve her ire: he had treated her well, according to his own code. The problem was that he had done nothing to deserve her love either. It was natural for him to show her care and consideration such as a woman would only expect from a good husband. She had been a fool to see compassion resulting from his upbringing as love for her. Her pride, as well as her heart, had been hurt, and she could blame no one save herself.

  They came off the downlands that evening, walking down a tongue of high land that sloped onto the plains. The flat open expanse looked odd to Kerin’s eyes. They now shared the road with better-dressed travellers who often rode in covered carts, sometimes attended by servants. Damaru was always treated with respect, while she, Sais and Fychan, in their drab upland clothes, were objects of curiosity.

  Although Fychan flirted outrageously at the inns, he behaved better around her, deferring to her in matters of Damaru’s care, and no longer putting her down in front of others. In return she found herself growing almost fond of the lad who, after all, was her nephew. He even paid for Damaru’s lodgings with money given to him by his father.

  Einon grew more apprehensive the closer they came to the City of Light. He kept his head bowed when they passed people on the road, and no longer joined them in the common-room in the evenings. He instructed them to tell him at once if anyone asked about him, though no one did. Kerin wondered what was going on, but knew better than to ask.

  Einon’s attitude to her improved after she treated Sais, as though demonstrating a useful skill had allowed the priest to see her as a person for the first time.

  She decided to take advantage of this when they were still a few days out from the City. When she took his meal up to his room, she said, ‘Gwas, may I ask you something?’

  ‘What is it, Chilwar?’

  ‘I wish my son to be as well-prepared as he can be for the upcoming testing. So I wondered, how many skyfools will be there?’

  ‘The most I have ever known is six. The least, two.’

  ‘And how many are chosen?’

  ‘Of the six, two were chosen. Last year, ah, three candidates were presented, but none were found worthy.’

  As she had feared: Damaru’s chances were not good. ‘And what tests will my son undergo?’

  ‘The day after his presentation to the Cariad he will be called on to, ah, to demonstrate his command over the pattern in the public testing. The boys’ guardians must convince them to affect matter without touching it.’

  ‘And if they fail?’

  ‘Then the boys’ claims will be seen as an offence against the Mothers. They will be put to death, and their guardians sent away in disgrace.’

  The smashed bodies of the reivers back at Maen Bulch were testament to her son’s ability to affect the world without touch; he could pass such a test, she knew he could. ‘So those who succeed, they ascend at the festival of Sul Esgyniad?’

  ‘No, those who succeed go into the Tyr for the final test.’

  ‘And if they fail this final test?’

  ‘Then, ah, then they die.’

  Kerin swallowed painfully; her mouth was suddenly horribly dry. ‘And what is the nature of the final test, Gwas?’

  ‘That is between the Cariad and the candidate. Such matters are not, ah, not for anyone else to know.’ He spoke firmly, but without anger.

  She thanked him and left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Day by day, Sais was building up a picture of his past. On the first session after he injured his hand, they worked through later memories of his parents. The next day he pieced together his family history. His parents had had a business together; his father had located mineral deposits, largely at sea, while his mother sold the exploration rights and handled the other business aspects of their partnership. The rig-accident that killed them had almost certainly been sabotage by a rival company. He still felt anger over that, even though it had happened years ago. He had an idea that their parents’ deaths had begun the rift between his sister and him. He felt sure Elarn was his only living relative.

  The next evening he gave Einon an edited version of his family history, telling him his father had traded in rare minerals, and both parents were dead, killed in an accident that might have been the action of a business rival.

  After digesting this, Einon said, ‘I have been thinking that you may come from a land unknown to even the most learned men. There is nothing in the Traditions to say that other lands do not exist beyond the realms shown on our maps.’

  ‘Would that be a problem, if I did come from off the map?’ asked Sais carefully.

  ‘Not at all,’ said the priest with a smile. ‘I think it is fascinating.’

  Sais tried not to let his relief show.

  At the next session he asked Einon to help him find out what he did for a living. He got the concept of an enclosed, bright, yet cluttered place with connotations of ‘home’, along with memories of negotiating and socialising with people in strange places, including other enclosed spaces. He told Einon he suspected he was some sort of trader who travelled widely, which was how he came to be so far from home. Einon accepted his explanation.

  The priest said he would be staying with them until Damaru’s testing, which would give them another week together in the City. Given Einon’s increasing paranoia, it was obvious he was walking into something potentially dangerous in Dinas Emrys, but he still refused to discuss it.

  Sais considered getting Einon to help him relive the weird experience he’d had when Damaru had saved the drove from the reivers. He knew this feeling was important, but it was also vague, more a sensation than a memory, and it had been pretty disturbing. He decided to leave this avenue of investigation until he ran out of other options.

  Instead, he used the last memory session before they reached Dinas Emrys to ask who mattered most in his life now, and whether they were looking for him.

  His mental view flashed on images of his sister, and of several men he knew had been more than friends. Einon asked if any of those close to him knew he was here. Suddenly he saw the nightmare eyes, and felt a sharp pain in his head. Einon brought him out of the trance at once. He was panting, and sweat filmed his palms. Apparently he wasn’t ready for that knowledge yet.

  As they neared the City, settlements became more frequent. Sais didn’t ask why some of the houses they passed had shuttered windows with blue circles painted over them - the frequent pyres told him all he needed to know. He was sure the falling fire was no visitation of divine will. Diseases were spread by physical contact, or in water or food. Even if the only cure was this red rain that miraculously fell at the end of the winnowing times, simple precautions could prevent the spread of the disease and ease the suffering. But he suspected the Traditions might say otherwise, so he kept quiet.

  They saw Dinas Emrys the day after the road began to parallel a slow, wide river that Einon called the Afon Mawr. A steep-sided mountain - the Tyr itself - emerged from the distant mists. It squatted on the plain, dark against the green-tinged fields and the bright expanse of water on the far horizon. Those must be the fenlands the Afon Mawr emptied into, Sais thought, one of the boundaries of the known lands, according to Einon’s map.

  At dusk twinkling lights appeared around the base of the mountain and part-way up its sides.

  That evening Kerin spoke to him for the first time since she’d had to treat his hand. He suspected she had been waiting for a moment when they could be alone,
and it came in the unromantic setting of the inn’s latrines. She walked in as he walked out. He was about to pass her when she put out her hand.

  He stopped and looked at her. The decision had to be hers.

  ‘I release you from am-annwn,’ she blurted.

  ‘Good,’ he said, ‘because having to get Fychan to repeat everything so we can communicate is really beginning to piss me off!’ It came out bitter, when he had intended it as a joke.

  They stood there in silence, neither of them willing to concede more for the moment. Then he took a step towards her. Words had got them into too much trouble; he wondered if she’d let him hug her.

  She backed away and he cursed his assumptions. ‘Sorry,’ he said, feeling foolish. ‘Where I come from, friends make up by embracing.’

  She raised her chin. ‘Outside of star-season tis not permitted for a man to act so with a woman who is not his wife.’

  He was heartily sick of what was and wasn’t permitted around here. ‘So, would all your problems be solved if I married you then?’

  To his surprise, she took his comment at face value. ‘Are you offering to? Have you changed your mind and want me now?’

  ‘Another thing about where I come from: I’m pretty sure we marry for love. I don’t love you, Kerin. To marry you would be dishonest.’

  ‘T’would be an act of compassion to marry me, Sais, and I know you are not short of that. But I would not ask you to sacrifice your valued principles of honesty for me.’

  ‘Christos, Kerin, you are one prideful woman!’

  She stared at him and he realised he’d let another of his unacceptable oaths slip out.

  Into her silence he said, ‘I like you and I respect you. You’re brave and you care for a world that doesn’t care for you. You want me to be the person who saves you from all the shit this uncaring world’s thrown at you. I’m not going to, and it’s not just because I don’t feel that way about you. It’s also because I know you’re strong enough to save yourself.’

  ‘Sais, look at me! I am an ugly widow with no property, no skills, no money, and once my son has gone to the sky, nothing to live for. Perhaps where you come from having a hard will and a soft heart would be enough to overcome these disadvantages. Here, it is not. I must accept that, and so must you.’ She walked off.