by Flavia Bujor
“Mama, calm down. It’s important to rest.”
“Amber, when my last day arrives, and it’s so close now … promise you’ll believe me. Even if my words are those of a weak, sick woman … Promise me.”
“I’ll promise you anything you want, Mama, but now, stop talking, it’s wearing you out.”
Thinking her mother was delirious with fever, Amber did not take anything she said seriously.
CHAPTER THREE
Opal
“IF I WHERE her great-aunt, I’d be worried about her. She’s so secretive, so fond of solitude …”
“You’re right. She isn’t normal! She hasn’t got a single friend, and no one can figure out what goes on inside her head.”
“She never smiles, it’s unbelievable! And her downcast eyes … She has a way of being so cold and stubborn — it’s disturbing.”
“Yes, there’s something very unusual and puzzling about her. It makes you uneasy.”
The two gossips stopped chatting at the approach of one of the oldest women in the village. No one knew her age, not even the woman herself: she no longer had the strength or the desire to count the years. Nobody paid attention to what she said any more; people often thought she talked nonsense. However, in spite of appearances, she was still lucid. Her back was bent, her face marked with a wrinkle for every path she had ever taken in life, and each of her slow steps seemed to cost her considerable effort.
After a moment, she reached the two busybodies. She could not possibly have overheard them, because they had stopped talking as she drew near. They greeted her with hypocritical smiles. The old woman stared at them contemptuously. “Of course Opal isn’t normal,” she said firmly. “Yes, she is different. And she will accomplish things you would never even dare imagine.”
With that, she hobbled slowly away. Speechless, the two village women noticed for the first time how dignified and strong-willed Opal’s great-great-aunt was. For as far back as she could remember, Opal had always lived with Great-great-aunt Eugenia and her daughter, who bore the same first name but was called Gina, to distinguish her from her mother. Opal had never known any home beside the luxurious house where the three of them lived. In spite of her advanced age, Great-aunt Gina was still a vigorous woman. She had always managed the housekeeping as well as Opal’s education and had taught the girl everything she knew about literature and history. She had also passed on to the child her knowledge of plants and remedies.
Opal was a diligent and thoughtful student who never asked herself whether she liked learning things. Her tastes, feelings and ideas were all rather vague, often even nonexistent. Many boys found the girl beautiful, but she was as cold as marble, and her stony indifference rapidly cooled any ardour she inspired. She was frail, a trifle too thin, with milky skin and the face of a china doll whose delicate features made her seem fragile. There was an absent look in her large, pale blue eyes, which sometimes appeared almost grey. Thick curls fell about her shoulders, accentuating her ethereal appearance. Her hair was blonde, each strand seemingly of a different shade: flaxen, honey-coloured, ash-blonde … She usually walked with her head down, staring at the ground. She wasn’t shy, but did not care for the company of others. No one really loved her and she didn’t really love anyone either. Although Eugénia and Gina showered her with attention, she had never known true warmth or affection.
Opal was looking for something to draw. She drew a great deal, neatly and precisely, striving to create an exact copy of her subject. She had once heard that art was a different way of looking at reality, but that didn’t mean much to her. She liked to reproduce what she saw, and above all, she wanted to excel, so she was constantly hunting for ever more difficult subjects. That day, she had rummaged through her entire room without finding anything that suited her.
On a sudden impulse she went to Gina’s room, which she never entered even though she had permission to do so. Once inside the room, she shivered and felt as if she were doing something wrong. “This is ridiculous,” she thought. “I’m allowed to be in here! Gina has gone to the village, but if she were here, she’d be perfectly happy for me to come into her room!” Still, Opal felt ill at ease. She crossed the room and sat down on the bed. There was a wealth of complicated objects in the room she could have chosen to draw, but, moved by a strange desire, she tried to open the drawer of the bedside table — only to find it locked.
Opal was amazed at what she had just done. She had never felt such curiosity before. “Something’s happening,” she muttered. “I can’t control myself.”The peculiar feeling persisted. “What is it about this room …” she wondered. Then, as if following some instinct, she pulled down the bedspread, looked under the pillow, and found a tiny key, which she slipped into the lock of the bedside table. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. “What am I doing?” she thought — and quickly opened the drawer.
The first thing she saw was a large, heavy book, its title written in letters of gold: The Prophecy. Opening the volume to the pages indicated by a bookmark, Opal read a few lines, found them uninteresting, then slammed the book shut. She tried to make herself see reason: what was she expecting to find? Annoyed, she continued searching through the drawer and came across a black velvet purse. “There’s something inside, and it’s calling out to me,” she thought, untying the drawstrings. It was a smooth object, warm to the touch.
Opal had never felt this way before — it was as if she were experiencing a different reality. She took out the object and examined it. It was a precious stone — a gem — round, of modest size and a very pale green colour, glossy and smooth. Opal held it tighdy. “It isn’t a stone,” she murmured to herself; “it’s something else, something powerful. A message.” She did not know why she was so certain of this, but she was sure she was close to the truth. She was in a trance, as though she were spellbound, oblivious to everything around her. She felt that there was a connection, an almost palpable link between her and the stone, which was trying to tell her something.
Opal tightened her grip — and the stone grew cold, its surface roughening. A vast feeling of emptiness overwhelmed the girl, plunging her into melancholy. In a few seconds the stone was icy cold. Shaking, Opal was forced to let go of it. The connection she had sensed was brutally broken. She felt her forehead: it was burning.”I should never have opened the drawer,” she reflected ruefully. “I wasn’t supposed to discover this stone.” She knew this, felt it with certainty. Hastily slipping the stone back into the purse, she returned it to its hiding place. She took the book lying on the bed and also replaced it in the drawer, which she locked. She then concealed the key under the pillow and carefully smoothed out the bedspread. Just in time.
Her great-aunt Gina entered the room.
“Opal! Is everything all right? You look so pale …”
“I’m fine. I was just looking for something to draw.”
Although Opal tried to appear calm, she could not hide the tremor of distress in her voice.
At the very moment Opal touched the stone, he had started violently. A sneer twisted his evil face. Using his powers of telepathy, he immediately summoned the Council of Twelve. When he joined them in their vast council chamber, they all lowered their eyes in fear at his approach. His voice was chilling. “What we had ceased to hope for has at last happened. I was able to intercept something of great interest.”
The twelve members of the Council understood what he meant, and their morose expressions betrayed a glimmer of satisfaction.
“Should we command the Knights of the Order to bring her to us?” asked a councillor.
“No,” came the curt reply. “I have a better idea.”
“Which one of them is it?” asked another councillor eagerly.
“The third one. Perhaps the most dangerous. She has within her powers that are as yet unawakened — I felt this when she made contact with her Stone. This happened too soon, in her case, and we can be glad of that. Another few days, and we would have lost the advantage
!”
“Which Stone is it?”
“The opal, the purest of the three. But I would also say the most fragile, now that I know everything about her …”
PARIS, PRESENT DAY
Dr Arnon took off his glasses and beckoned to the nurse.
“She seems to be resting peacefully, don’t you think?”
He pointed to the bed where a sickly child was lying, apparently in a deep sleep, but with a waxen pallor to her face.
“She hasn’t got much time left,” he added. “Not more than a couple of days, in my opinion. You haven’t grown fond of her, I hope?”
The nurse shrugged resignedly. “No, not really. Besides, she’s already suffered so much …”
The doctor carefully cleaned his glasses in silence for a few moments before observing gravely, “In any case, there’s nothing more we can do for her. She has definitely stopped fighting since her parents died.”
“She has no other family?”
“No brothers or sisters, just an uncle, who is now her legal guardian. But he hardly knows her. He’s the one who pays for her care, with the parents’ money.”
“A rich family?” enquired the nurse.
“Yes. But that won’t save her.”
“And this uncle — he never comes to see her?”
“No,” sighed the doctor. “Apart from one man, once, no one has ever come to see her.”
The nurse studied the frail form lying in the bed. She had no right to grow attached to someone so close to the end. She turned her face away.
“You must have already heard more than your fair share of sad stories,” said Dr Arnon softly, “and you’ll hear a great many more, believe me.”
“I know.”
“Well, then, come with me, let’s forget all this. How about some coffee?”
The nurse nodded. Without a backward glance, she followed the doctor out into the hall, closing the door behind them. Now the only sound in the room was the wheezing of the machine that kept the patient alive.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Prophecy of the three Gems
JADE LOOKED STUNNING in the blue-green gown that had been specially made for her in the county of Tyrel. Her green eyes sparkled even more than usual, and her face glowed with pleasure. She moved about the ballroom like a queen among her subjects. All eyes were on her: she was the star of the evening, and she was in heaven. She danced, chatted with her guests and laughed in pure content. The party was even more of a success than she had hoped. The refreshments were delicious, the decor was sumptuous, and the splendour of it all was dazzling. “This,” she thought, “is perfect happiness.”
Against all expectations, Amber’s mother had managed to cling to life, and each extra minute she won from death was a small miracle. Ever since the moment, not long before, when Amber had raced to her bedside, her end had no longer been in doubt, yet still she lived on. The girl stayed with her day and night, without sleeping, eating only a few morsels of bread when she felt hungry. Today her mother was worse. She had been unconscious since that morning. Fortunately, she was still breathing, but with great difficulty …
The sun had already set. Her mother simply had to wake from this dreadful coma! “She’s going to live, she’s going to live,” Amber kept telling herself stubbornly. “There’s always hope, always! As long as she keeps breathing …”
“Amber …” Startled by her mother’s hoarse voice, Amber realised that she had regained consciousness.
“Mama! Oh, Mama …”
“I’m going to make it, Amber, I’m going to make it. What time is it?”
Amber told her, cheered to find her mother more or less lucid, even though her eyes had begun to glaze over.
“That’s good, Amber. I only have to hold on a little longer. I will have carried out my mission. Soon I’ll be at peace.”
“Mama!”
“You’ll have to be strong. And accept what you are destined to accomplish.”
“Rest, Mama.”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten? Today you are fourteen years old.”
“It had completely slipped my mind.”
“Well, Amber, I wish you a happy birthday.”
Ever since Opal had found the stone, everything had gone badly. She had trouble sleeping and had been running a persistent temperature. She’d said nothing of this to Eugénia and Gina, fearing they would discover the cause of her illness. She had secretly concocted medicines from plants, but nothing had helped. She was still running a temperature and had violent fits of nausea. She was afraid of giving herself away, of revealing that she had found that strange stone among Gina’s belongings. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong,” she kept telling herself. Since her discovery, she had not spoken unless it was absolutely necessary, and she’d become even more withdrawn. “What possessed me that day?” she wondered. “I really don’t understand …”
“Opal, a little more cake?” asked Gina, forcing herself to smile.
With a start, Opal emerged from her reverie.
“No, thank you,” she replied coldly.
Although she knew that her great-aunt was trying to ease the tension in the air, Opal could not shrug off her guilt over what she had done.
Gina was so aggravated that her patience and tact failed her.
“For goodness’ sake, it’s your birthday!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Eugénia and I tried to make everything nice, but you — you couldn’t care less!”
“Gina—” pleaded Eugénia.
“Let me finish,” continued Gina, growing angrier and angrier. “Opal, would a smile or a simple thank you be too much to ask? After everything we’ve done for you? What have you got where your heart should be — a stone?”
Opal glanced sharply at her great-aunt. “Speaking of stones, you owe me an explanation,” she wanted to shout, but she remained silent, and bowed her head.
As he watched Jade, the Duke of Divulyon kept asking himselfbitterly “Why?Why her? Why now? Why must this be?” He knew his questions were useless and would change nothing. He himself was powerless, unable to affect or prevent anything whatsoever. Yet an inner voice kept tormenting him and cursing that prophecy. He would have liked to silence this increasingly painful voice, but he could not; he could think only of Jade. Sadly, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his elegant jacket and grasped the black velvet purse.
Amber’s eyes were red, her hair tangled and dirty, her lips dry, her every muscle stiff and sore. She neither knew nor cared. She had to watch over her mother. Her brothers and sisters had all been sent to stay in other households. She was the eldest, however, and was duty-bound to remain at her mother’s bedside. The room was lit by the feeble gleam of a candle, its flame wavering and threatening to go out at any moment. “Like happiness,” she thought. “The other day I was sitting contentedly in that meadow and all of a sudden, life has become a ghastly nightmare.”
“Amber,” moaned her mother. “I’m in pain … such pain …
“Mama, don’t talk, save your strength. Rest. Sleep, it’s late. Soon you’ll be much better.”
“Yes, when it’s all over … when I’m not suffering any more … when I’m on the other side.”
“Mama, I beg of you, be brave!”
“I’m almost eager … to go … rejoin my husband … To forget the sorrow, the poverty, the feeling of having … done nothing … with my life.”
“Mama! None of that is true! You’ve done so many things. Look at me — you made me, and without you, I’d be nothing!”
“If you only knew …”
After Gina had recovered her composure, an oppressive silence reigned in the room. Around the table, they avoided meeting each other’s eyes. Eugénia and Gina consulted their watches nervously at regular intervals. Ordinarily impassive, Opal could not bear the tension. She wanted to go and shut herself up in her room, but she stayed miserably in her chair, feeling dizzy with fever. After half an hour, Eugénia gave a little cough.
“It’s time,” she announced.
Surprised, Opal stared at her. “Time for what?” she asked uneasily.
With a sorrowful smile, Eugénia acquiesced. “There is still one hour left, but I think we had better begin without delay.”
“Begin what?” asked Opal in bewilderment.
Gina cleared her throat discreetly. After apologising to Opal for losing her temper, she looked at Eugénia and repeated, “Yes, it’s time.”
Then Gina placed an object on the table. Opal turned pale as her blood ran cold. The black velvet purse!
“Gina knows that I found it, that I searched through her drawer,” she thought in a panic, “and she wants me to explain myself.”
Strangely enough, however, Gina did not seem angry.
“It’s a long story,” she said, “and we cannot tell you all of it. You must discover the most important part for yourself. Do not open this purse right away. In fact, don’t open it before midnight, because there might be serious consequences.”
Opal listened in confusion, but having already felt the power of the stone, she did not doubt the truth of what her great-aunt said.
“It’s already quite late,” reflected the Duke of Divulyon. “Only half an hour left.” He made his way towards his daughter, who was talking to her guests.
“Jade,” he said softly.
She turned towards him with a radiant smile. “Papa! I haven’t seen you all evening. The party’s going well, isn’t it?”
The Duke of Divulyon felt a lump in his throat.
“Yes, the party is a great success,” he managed to agree, “and you look lovely.” His words brought another smile to the girl’s face. “Jade, you have to leave your guests now. I must speak with you.”
Taken aback, Jade protested. “What? But it’s my party, Papa! My birthday! Whatever it is you have to tell me, it can’t be that important!”
