Morticai's Luck

by Darlene Bolesny

  Rylan suddenly realized that, as the extent of Morticai’s healing became apparent to him, he had tightened his grip on Heather’s hand. He consciously relaxed his hand before speaking. He whispered, unable to keep a tremor out of his voice. “Heather,’ he said, “look!”

  She did look, reluctantly, and then with an audible gasp, she tore her hand from his grip and clasped both hands over her mouth.

  Beneath the ointment lay what appeared to be a spongy layer of skin. Mother Edana carefully cleaned it away, exposing fully formed, unscarred eyelids. Eyelashes, although they were still very short, had even begun to return. With the realization that he had been holding his breath, Rylan forced himself to exhale.

  Mother Edana took both of Morticai’s hands.

  “Morticai,” she said firmly, “I want you to try to open your eyes.”

  “Mother Edana,” Morticai complained, “please don’t say such things! You know what they did to me.”

  The Matriarch took his left hand and guided it up to his eyes.

  “Feel that, child?” she asked.

  Morticai began to shake.

  “Now,” she said, “obey me and open your eyes!”

  It obviously took a good deal of effort, but open them he did—first one eye, then the other.

  “Great Levani,” Mother Edana whispered.

  Heather gasped and reeled as if she might faint. Rylan swallowed and tried to look at Heather, but couldn’t bring himself to look away from Morticai. Morticai’s eyes had been blue. They were no longer. The color had changed, and it was something that even Mother Edana found astonishing. His new eyes were … purple—not the pale lilac shade that was common to some corryn, but a deep, vibrant purple, such as that found on the robes of kings … and in sanctums dedicated to Glawres.

  The light must have been too much for Morticai’s new eyes, for he immediately squeezed his lids into a painful squint. Then, he began to shout and laugh and cry all at once.

  “I-I, my eyes! My eyes are back!”

  Mother Edana let go of Morticai’s hands and moved her supporting grip to his upper arms. Rylan understood why she did so, for Morticai bounced up and down on the bed like a child, squinting and shouting and crying.

  Rylan swallowed again, and this time managed to look at Heather. She was obviously in shock, as he himself was to some extent, but she appeared frightened as well. Rylan wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “Calm thyself!” Mother Edana shouted at Morticai. “You must calm down!”

  Eventually, he complied, though his giddiness threatened to break out again at any moment.

  “Morticai,” Mother Edana commanded, “you must calm down and speak with me!”

  “Y-yes?”

  “Can you see?”

  He tried to relax the squint, but was unsuccessful. “Well,” his excitement seemed to die down, “not, not really.”

  “That’s all right,” Mother Edana said in a soothing voice. “Do you see anything at all? You apparently can see light. Can you see color? Tell me exactly what you can see.”

  Heather began to cry, softly.

  “I … I do see light,” Morticai said slowly. “It’s too bright.”

  “I am sorry, but that is as low as the lamp will go,” she replied.

  “I see shapes,” he continued, “but they’re fuzzy. I can’t tell what anything is.” He took his hand up and then slowly moved it toward his face, stopping it about two inches from his eyes. “I-I can see my hand!” he exclaimed, as his excitement began to return.

  Suddenly, he dropped his hand, shut his new eyes, and turned his head, listening. “Heather? Heather, are you crying?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed. “I’m, I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  She spun toward Rylan and buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Shhh,” Rylan whispered to her. “She’ll be all right, Morticai,” he said. “She was not prepared for a miracle. It will take a little time for her to get over the shock.”

  Morticai sighed. “Yeah. I …” he swallowed, “I wasn’t really expecting a miracle, either. I guess I should have known Mother Edana wouldn’t lie.”

  “You need not apologize, child,” Mother Edana replied. She placed her hand under his chin and moved his head back toward her. “I want you to try again to open your eyes. Do it very slowly—try not to squint. That’s it,” she said, coaxing him, “you do not need to open them all the way. I want to look at the color of your eyes.”

  “The color?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Ah, that is enough.” She shook her head slowly. “It is just like the Levani of the sea,” she said. “Glawres, the unpredictable—and one who loves surprise. He surprised even me.”

  “Uh? What are you talking about?” Morticai asked, and squinted again, apparently trying to focus on Mother Edana’s face.

  “Child, your eyes have changed color. Or rather, you have new eyes in place of the ones that were destroyed.”

  Silence.

  “Changed color?” he finally asked.

  “Yes, child. Were they not blue, before?”

  “Y-yes. What color are they now?”

  “Violet.”

  Morticai smiled weakly. “I’ve always wanted violet eyes,” he said sheepishly.

  “You mean the light shade that some corryn have?” Rylan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They are not quite that shade,” Mother Edana replied.

  “Huh? What shade are they?”

  “You will see, child,” she replied. “For now, you should lie back and close your eyes to let them rest. It shall probably take a little time for your muscles to regain their strength. We are not yet finished. We must unwrap the rest of your bandages.”

  * * *

  Rylan gently led Heather, who was still crying, from the room. They went into the Sanctorium itself, and he led her to a deserted bench near the back of one of the upper balconies. She did not seem to mind being led there.

  “Dear lady,” he began cautiously, “this should be a time for rejoicing, not mourning.”

  She dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief. “I-I know … I suppose.”

  “Then, what troubles you?”

  She brought her emerald eyes up to meet Rylan’s, and he found himself thinking that many battles had doubtless been fought for the favor of her regard.

  “I am not unhappy that Glawres has given Dyluth back his sight,” she began.

  Rylan was momentarily puzzled until he remembered that Dyluth was the name by which Morticai was known on the streets and to his Arluthian brethren.

  “And, I do not wish to be ungrateful,” Heather continued, “but, it will never be the same. Glawres has claimed him—isn’t that so?”

  “That certainly may be,” Rylan agreed.

  “Things will never be the way they were. I have sometimes dreamed of going away with him, of having a life away from court—but now those dreams are forever dashed! He can never belong to me now, for he belongs to Glawres.”

  “But, Lady Adrianas,” Rylan cautioned, “there is no greater honor than to be so claimed. Indeed, it appears that Morticai has belonged to Glawres for a long time. Can you not share your love with Glawres?”

  “It would never be that simple!” she replied, shaking her silver tresses. “How easy will it be now for the Droken to find him?”

  Rylan blinked, realizing the import of what she was saying. Morticai’s new eyes would be impossible to disguise. He was forever marked by the favor of the god.

  She continued, “You seem to know little of his love of freedom, nor his love of danger. He will not hide from the Droken, as he should—it is not his way. He will live openly. And what will come of it, if not his death? Do I not have a reason to grieve, Father?”

  Rylan clasped her hands gently in his own. “Dea
r Lady,” he replied, “I feel in the depths of my soul that Glawres would not give Dyluth such a blessing if it were only to lead to his death. Please, be patient and allow Glawres to fully unveil his purpose in bestowing this gift. It is too early to know what changes Glawres has wrought within Morticai—Dyluth—that we may not be able to see. Please, let this be something which strengthens your faith, not something which weakens it.”

  “I-I will try, Father,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I will try.”

  * * *

  The light knock was obviously meant not to waken Morticai, should he be asleep. Getting up from the bed, Morticai walked to the door, a broad smile already on his face—he had strong suspicions who might be visiting in the predawn hours.

  “Hi!” Morticai said as he opened the door.

  Nelerek stood in the hallway, and for a moment, he did nothing but stare. Then, a grin matching Morticai’s lit up his face as he strode into the room, grabbed Morticai by the shoulders, and spun him around.

  “It’s true!” he cried, and hugged Morticai to him.

  Morticai laughed. “Yes!”

  “By the gods, Dyluth!” Nelerek exclaimed, holding him back at arm’s length again. “Or, perhaps I should say, by your god.” He shook his head. “I cannot tell you how I feel.”

  “You should try being on this side of it,” Morticai replied.

  “Gods, Dyluth,” he whispered, “who would have thought?”

  “I know,” Morticai said. He turned suddenly solemn. “I still don’t know how I should feel.”

  “Can we turn the lamp up a bit? If you can stand it, that is. Heather said—”

  “About the color?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “She’s not taking this very well, I am afraid,” Morticai said, moving to the bed stand to turn up the lamp.

  “Well, it’s not every day that someone you know has a miracle performed on him,” Nelerek replied.

  Keeping his back to Nelerek, Morticai replied, “I think there’s a bit more to it than that, Nelerek. Are … are you ready for this?”

  “Of course,” Nelerek replied, confused.

  Morticai turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. Nelerek stared, taking in a deep breath.

  “Not quite what you expected?” Morticai asked.

  “Ah … I knew they were violet,” he said, and he moved closer, pulling the chair beside the bed around and sitting down in it.

  Morticai smiled dryly. “It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I, uh, well … yeah,” he finally answered. “But, gods, Dyluth, if Glawres has grown them back, I suppose he has the right to make them whatever color he wishes.”

  “I know. And in truth, I don’t mind. I’m so thankful just to be able to see again. But I’m a little worried about what people are going to think. I’m afraid they’re gonna’ think I’m a freak.”

  Nelerek scowled. “I’m not certain that will be a problem, Dyluth. I mean, yes, it is a very unusual color, but I do not believe that you can judge it by our reaction.”

  “Huh?”

  “Both Heather and I have known you for many years, Dyluth—with blue eyes. I think that may be affecting our reactions. You may discover that when you meet people for the first time they will quickly accept this as just an unusual shade of violet.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Morticai replied, though he noted that Nelerek seemed unable to stop staring.

  “After all, it’s not any stranger than your hair,” Nelerek added with a smirk.

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” Morticai complained.

  “Well, Dyluth,” Nelerek asked gently, “how many corryn do you know in Watchaven with black and silver hair?”

  “Uh,” Morticai began. “Well, they say it’s not that uncommon in Lorredre.”

  “That may be, but here it is. My point is that I don’t think people are going to stare at you any more for your eyes than they already do for your hair.”

  “There is something else I need to show you,” Morticai said slowly.

  “Yes?”

  Morticai unlaced the cuff of his nightshirt and showed Nelerek his wrists.

  “No scars!” Nelerek exclaimed. “Almighty Aluntas—then, you are completely healed? Heather did not tell me this.”

  “Well, you’re almost correct,” Morticai replied. “I’m a little stiff, but it’s not too bad, and I still get an occasional twinge here and there, but it could be a lot worse. There are no scars—except for these.”

  Morticai shoved back the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the brands he had received during the ritual. Nelerek blinked, and then gently took Morticai’s wrists, turning his arms so they were more in the light. On the underside of each forearm, a dark, indented scar defined with frightening exactness the brands that had been used.

  “If Glawres could grow back my eyes, and remove every other scar, including some I’ve had since I was a child, why did he leave these?” Morticai asked.

  Nelerek’s serious eyes met his. “I suppose he intended to leave them,” he said slowly.

  “I’ve thought that also. Mother Edana believes that he changed the color of my eyes to mark me as his, and that he may have left the brand of his own symbol for the same reason. But she didn’t know why he left the Arluthian symbol, and that scares me, Nelerek. Did he leave it because he doesn’t mind me being an Arluthian—or did he leave it because he doesn’t like me being an Arluthian?”

  Nelerek sat thoughtfully a moment before replying, “You’ve been an Arluthian a long time, Dyluth. And, it was being an Arluthian—not a very bright one, I must admit, but nonetheless being an Arluthian—that got you into this mess. If Glawres didn’t approve of your belonging, I wouldn’t have thought he would have grown your eyes back.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Nelerek nodded. “So do I. I must admit, that scar may cause a few problems.” Nelerek shrugged, “I don’t think they would send you to the gallows for it …”

  “What about the Arluthians?” Morticai interrupted. “We’re supposed to keep this symbol secret.”

  “Well, by now you should realize that it is not a very well-kept secret—after all, the Droken certainly knew of it. And I am certain that the Faith knows of it as well.” Nelerek grinned, wickedly. “You shall just have to make certain the ladies leave your shirt on, my friend.”

  Morticai snorted. “Now, that’ll be a challenge!”

  Nelerek laughed. “It is so good to have you back.”

  “At least for tonight,” Morticai said.

  “Hmm?”

  “I leave with the Inquisitor a couple of hours after dawn.”

  “What?”

  Morticai took a deep breath. “We have to catch up to King Almgren—”

  “What!”

  “We have to, Nelerek!”

  “Good gods, Dyluth!” Nelerek exclaimed. “You’ve not even had your eyes back a day and you’re talking about traveling?”

  “Nelerek,” Morticai said, lowering his voice, “you don’t understand—the Inquisitor is going to try and forewarn King Almgren about the Droken army. If all has gone well with Coryden, proof of the army should have been given to Almgren, but we can’t count on that. Now, Heather found out that the king’s fourth son, uh, Edris, was the one that issued that order against me. She broke into his chambers —”

  “Heather?” Nelerek asked, incredulously.

  “Yes, Heather. Remember? She is my Arluthian ward, after all. Well, she found out two interesting things about Prince Edris. First, he took some things that one wouldn’t normally take off to war, like his prized ivory collection. But she found somethin’ more important than that.” Reaching to the table beside the bed, Morticai handed Nelerek a paper.

  Nelerek studied it, his frown deepening the longer he stared at it. “Thi
s isn’t one of the Cities,” he stated.

  “You’re correct,” Morticai said softly. “At least, it’s not one of our Cities.”

  Nelerek looked up slowly. “Cuthaun? You think it’s Cuthaun?” Stories of the hidden Droken kingdom had been told since before either of them had been born.

  Morticai nodded. “That I do. Heather took the map to a mapmaker, and he confirmed that it’s not anyplace he’d ever seen. Heather had him make two copies of it. I’m keeping one copy, and I’m giving you the other copy to take to the Arluthians. Rylan will deliver this one to King Almgren.”

  Nelerek let out a long breath. “Dyluth, do you realize how long people have searched for this place?”

  Morticai nodded. “But that map still doesn’t tell us where to find it. I mean, yeah, it’ll be nice to have a street map once we can find it, but ’til then, it’s not much help. But because of this,” Morticai gestured to the map, “we’re certain Edris is involved. I’ve mentioned it to Rylan, but he says we don’t have enough proof. I’ve got from now until we reach Almgren to figure out how to prove Edris is involved.”

  Nelerek sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

  Morticai looked down. “Nelerek,” he said in a whisper, “while I was strung up in that damned temple I did a lot of thinking. If there was anything that I wanted more than my sight, it was a chance to stop the damned demon Droken! Glawres has given me back that chance—I’m not going to disappoint him. I’ve got to see it out to the end.”

  Nelerek’s hand fell softly on top of Morticai’s.

  “Look at me, Dyluth,” he said.

  Morticai met his gaze, and was surprised to see that his Arluthian mentor was close to tears.

  “I understand,” Nelerek began. “I still fear for you, but I understand. However, I will not let you go alone. Too much has happened, and you have suffered far too much for me to allow it. Let me go with you.”