by Callie Kanno
“Mother, why did you show me that?”
She glanced up at the sky, as if measuring the time. “Dream again tomorrow and I will show you more. It will all make sense in time.”
Adesina wanted to resist, but she felt the pull of her own world. She yielded and closed her eyes, knowing from experience that it made the crossing easier.
When she opened them again she was lying in the L’avan camp. E’nes saw that she was awake and knelt by her side. “How are you feeling, Adesina?”
She sat up slowly, trying to assess her personal well-being. “Better.”
“Are you still able to travel?”
Adesina nodded and got to her feet, ready to help break down the camp. She didn’t say much to her companions, nor did they say much to her. Her brother continued with his lessons on the L’avan language, in which she was growing quite proficient, but Adesina seemed more anxious to stop for the night.
As soon as the evening meal was over, she wrapped herself in her blanket and reached out to connect to her vyala. More than willing to obey her command, the power sent her speeding back into the world of Dreams.
E’rian was waiting for her next to the shimmering fountain. She stood when she saw her daughter approaching.
“Do you wish to continue?” she asked in a gentle voice.
Adesina nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”
Her mother took her hand and led her back to the wooden door. She stared at it in confusion. “Are we visiting the guard again?”
E’rian smiled and shook her head. She opened the door to reveal a large open field bathed in the sunlight of early summer.
Adesina was bewildered. “Where is the room?”
Her mother smiled mysteriously. “The room is where is has always been and where it always will be.”
She began walking through the tall green grass, holding out her hands to let the blades brush her fingertips. Her daughter hurried to follow.
“What do you mean?”
She didn’t slow her pace as she explained. “The door leads to many places, Ma’eve. It is a way to connect the world of the spirits. Just as the Garden is my place of rest, this field is the resting place of another. The door is a way to visit parts of the spirit world other than one’s own.”
Adesina looked back, expecting to see the building from which they had just come. Instead she saw the wooden door standing on its own, with nothing to connect it to any structure. The sight was slightly unnerving. She hurried to catch up with her mother while processing this strange new information about spirit worlds.
The Shimat were not religious in any sense of the word. They relied heavily on science and did not believe in anything that could not be proven. They believed that superstitions were evidence of a weak and uninformed mind. However, Adesina found herself thrown into a world where one was continually met with something unexplained by the rationality of science: talking animals, spirits of the dead, life force turned into some kind of “magic.” For all of her extensive training, she felt completely lost, which was a feeling she greatly disliked.
If E’rian noticed Adesina’s souring mood, she said nothing about it. She kept walking at her businesslike pace, not looking back to see if her daughter was following.
There was a large oak tree not far in the distance that was clearly their destination. Resting in the wide branches of the tree sat a young man singing softly to himself. He was probably Adesina’s age, with fair features and clothing that looked like it came from another period of time.
Unlike the man from the night before, who had been very formally dressed, this boy looked more like a well-groomed peasant.
He looked up when he heard them, giving them a puzzled smile. “Hello.”
The Dream woman raised her hand in greeting. “I was wondering if you would be willing to show my daughter one of your memories.”
The young man hopped down from the tree. “Which one?”
“When you were a servant as a boy.”
His youthful face stiffened. “The assassins.”
She nodded. “The founding of the fortress.”
He was clearly reluctant to relive such memories, and felt the need to explain himself. “I was very young when they asked me to serve them. My family had nothing to offer me and serving was an honorable profession. I had no idea what kind of people my masters were.”
E’rian nodded in sympathy. “You do not need to justify yourself to us. We do not judge you.”
Still, he looked as if he wanted to say more. “I am not like them. I did not wish to take part in their ambitions.”
He looked at the mother and daughter for a few heavy moments. Finally, he held out his hand to Adesina.
The flash of light took them to the familiar courtyard of the Shimat fortress. Adesina looked around in amazement. She had been away for a long time, but she was surprised to find that she still remembered the smallest details of her former home.
Closer inspection showed her that it was different from how she remembered it. It looked run-down and abandoned—weeds and moss grew in between the stones, the wood of the gate was rotted and broken, the roofs were in desperate need of repair, and so forth.
Six figures walked around slowly, as if inspecting it, while the seventh stood off to the side with his arms folded. Adesina spotted the form of a young serving boy waiting at the edge of the scene. The figures all wore heavy black cloaks with the cowls up around their faces, and they walked with a feline grace that spoke of danger.
The seventh figure also stood apart in the way he was extravagantly dressed. Even though he wore a modest cloak to cover the gaudy material, it was now thrown back to exhibit his obvious wealth. The man had an arrogant look on his face, which marred the youth of his features.
“There should be adequate space for you and your subordinates. It can serve as a training ground as well as a fortress.”
Adesina recognized the voice of the king.
He received no response, so he continued with his recommendations of the abandoned castle. “It is also ideally located—isolated from the rest of the kingdom.”
“Will it be kept that way?” asked one of the inspectors.
The king was irritated by the question. “Of course! I have gone to great lengths to ensure secrecy.”
A reedy woman turned her sharp eyes to the king. “Will we have autonomy?”
“Yes.”
The woman wasn’t satisfied. “I want an official document stating it to be so.”
He hesitated before answering in a sarcastic voice. “What would you have it say? ‘I, the king, promise not to interfere with the running of the secret organization that I created.’ How would I explain such a document to my counselors?”
She shrugged. “Sign a document saying that this land is under your protection, but not subject to your rule. We will take care of the rest.”
The monarch gritted his teeth in anger. He did not want to sign his name in connection with these proceedings, and he did not want to lose the freedom of altering his agreement with the assassins whenever he chose.
“Well?” prompted the woman.
He set his jaw stubbornly. “Very well. But remember, your loyalty is still sworn to me.”
The woman turned, so only Adesina could see her grim smile. “Of course, your Majesty.”
A robust middle-aged man nodded. “Yes, this will do very well.”
Another woman, more burly than the first, shook her head. “I still do not agree with this endeavor.”
They all turned to look at her, but only the king voiced his question. “Why not?”
“You said you wanted an army of assassins—the best assassins in the world. This will not be possible.”
The king’s face hardened. “What is your reasoning?”
She shrugged. “We are too few. We, alone, cannot teach great numbers to be as skilled as ourselves. It would take many years.”
The robust man gestured carelessly. “It will take many years
regardless. Especially to build the organization to the scope that His Majesty requests.”
The king mulled this over for a while. He paced the stone floors that Adesina had often paced herself. When he came to a decision, it was with a degree of uncertainty. He tried to make his voice seem unconcerned, but no one was fooled. “I will search out other skilled assassins to aid you in this undertaking.”
“They must be subject to our approval, of course,” insisted a tall man.
The ruler assented reluctantly. All six assassins nodded in satisfaction, but the king had a sneaking suspicion that the situation was far too precarious. It would be too easy for things to get out of hand.
In spite of this fear, he agreed to press forward. His visions of power and glory were too great to pass up.
“We shall begin immediately,” said the reedy woman.
Once again, the scene grew hazy as Adesina was pulled out of the memory. It was a bit jarring, and she didn’t like it. She looked at the young man, who seemed preoccupied by the grass at his feet.
She couldn’t help asking, “How long did they allow you to live, knowing such secrets?”
He kept his eyes on the ground as he answered. “I lived only as long as I served a purpose.”
***
There was much on Adesina’s mind as she followed her mother to the wooden door the next night. She thought of the lives taken by this secret organization, simply because they ceased to be a benefit. She silently shuddered at such cold-hearted practices, and felt a growing dread at the understanding that was forming in her mind.
This time the wooden door took them to a beautiful marble hall filled with light. Unlike the other “resting places,” which had seemed rather solitary, this hall was filled with people. They lounged on large pillows, discussing a variety of topics in lively voices. The expanding sound of music echoed through the hall, but it was difficult to see where it came from.
E’rian stood in place for several moments, swaying to the music with her eyes closed. Finally, she looked at her daughter with a smile. “I love music.”
Adesina smiled in return. “Me, too.”
In all honesty, music had never really been a part of her life until she had met Ravi. Since then, it had become a powerful influence over her. Her guardian seemed to take music with him wherever he went, and Adesina began to associate music with all the qualities that personified Ravi. He was a source of strength, her comfort in hard times, calming, encouraging, a voice of reason, and so much more. In its own way, music had become those things to her as well.
The L’avan seemed to share the deep love of music that Adesina assumed was part of Rashad nature. It was not uncommon for her companions to suddenly break into song and have everyone join in. They had begun teaching some of the songs to her, but she preferred to listen rather than add in her voice.
E’rian walked over to the group of music connoisseurs and managed to detach one of them, leading him over to where her daughter was waiting. He was a short, balding man with snub features and a fussy air. “So, you want a memory, do you?”
She immediately took a dislike to his tone of voice, but her mother acted as if nothing were wrong. “Yes, that is correct.”
The man sighed as if it were a great imposition. “Will it be just the one?”
She rolled her eyes while E’rian smiled patiently. “Yes.”
He reached out his hand, which Adesina gripped harder than what was strictly necessary. The man flinched, but did not pull away. The blanket of light whisked them into the warren of his memories.
She opened her eyes to find them standing in a well-lit study. The wall hangings were blood red in color and the large window was covered by a gilded screen. The king from the previous memories sat at a large desk filled with books and documents. It was clear that several years had passed, as evidenced by his graying hair and the weary expression on his face.
The door opened to admit a young page. “Your Majesty, there is a messenger here for you.”
He waved a hand disinterestedly. “Send them in.”
The woman that entered was the thin assassin from the fortress. Her dark hair was also streaked with gray and pulled tightly back, giving her an even more severe look than before. She was dressed like a servant, but anyone who looked her in the eye could see that she served no one but herself.
She locked the door behind herself and turned to face the king. “Greetings, your Majesty. And congratulations on the birth of your son.”
He was surprised to see her. “Why are you here? Are there any problems with the assignments I have given you?”
She smiled briefly. “No, no problems.”
The monarch frowned. “Well?”
The assassin seated herself without asking permission. “I come with a request from the fortress.”
Adesina frowned at the woman’s manner of speaking. It was seemingly passive, but behind the calm tones it was clear that she was the one in control rather than the king.
His expression was immediately wary. “What do you want?”
“Children.”
He couldn’t have looked more bewildered. “What?”
The woman was entirely at ease, as if her request was completely ordinary. “Children, your Majesty. All the orphan children in the realm.”
The ruler was speechless, so the woman continued with her address.
“We want a system put in place so they can be transported to the fortress undetected, as well as all future orphans. We also want a rumor spread that impoverished families can turn their children over to the traveling workers for excellent care and a respectable future.”
“Who are these traveling workers?”
She waved a bony hand. “Artisans who go from village to village looking for work.”
“Where will we find artisans willing to acquire children for you?” he asked in confusion.
A patronizing smile appeared on her face. “We already have Shimat in place to act in that capacity.”
The king looked agitated and uncomfortable. “I wish you would stop calling yourselves that. The shimat are myths. Demons from old wives’ tales…”
The woman’s eyes gleamed with a manic light. “Oh, but we are shadow demons. Your shadow demons, for you created us.”
He shuffled the papers on his desk, avoiding eye contact. “For what purpose do you want these children?”
“To be raised and trained as Shimat.”
The idea caught the monarch’s attention, and an amazed smile appeared on his face. “Of course! An entire generation of assassins at my command!”
The assassin said nothing, keeping her expression neutral. The feelings of apprehension that the king had been feeling moments ago were replaced by a greed for power. This lasted for several minutes before the he became cautious again.
“I will allow it on one condition: the children must be raised completely loyal to me.”
She smiled slyly. “Of course, your Majesty.”
He still looked distrustful, but nodded. “I will begin gathering them immediately. What ages would you prefer?”
She leaned back in her chair, interlacing her fingers. “For now we will take all the children who range from infancy to fifteen years of age. In the future, when this program is more established, we will lower that cutoff age.”
They began discussing the details, but Adesina felt herself being pulled out of the memory. She shuddered as she pulled her hand away from the man standing in the marble hall.
“How did you witness this without notice?” she asked him.
He sighed with a melodramatic expression on his face. “I was one of the King’s Counselors, and I wished gain prestige and riches. I was spying on the king with the hope of learning something valuable.”
“You tried to blackmail him?”
He looked offended. “I merely wanted to warn him of his lack of discretion! He had me executed…”
Adesina wasn’t surprised in the least. The fussy man turned away
from them and went back to his friends in the marble hall. The two L’avan made their way back to the Garden, where they could discuss what she had seen.
This had been the hardest memory for Adesina to watch. She felt ill when she thought of all the children who had been manipulated through the years. More than that, she was angry when she thought about how she herself had been manipulated.
She thought about her Shi friend, Lanil, who was so sweet and caring that it was hard to believe that she was also a warrior in training. If her parents had lived, she probably would have been a lot like Deasa. Doubtless, Lanil would have married young and been happy to raise her family. Unfortunately, her parents had died when she was an infant, and she had become a Shar Child—raised in the Shimat fortress with no option but to be trained as one.
Adesina began pacing back and forth, and E’rian seated herself on the edge of the fountain, watching her daughter’s agitated movements.
“Why has nothing been done before now? Why are the Shimat not stopped?”
The older woman clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Ma’eve, the Shimat order thrives on secrecy and subtle manipulation. To most of the world they are nothing but a dark story to get one’s children to behave. It was not until they approached us about an alliance that the L’avan knew of their reality.”
Adesina stopped in her tracks. “The Shimat offered an alliance with the L’avan?”
Her mother nodded. “It was before our isolation from the rest of the world. The L’avan king of that time had the gift of reading intentions, and he could see that the Shimat only wanted to manipulate us and have use of our powers. They thought vyala was something that could be transferred, and they wanted it for their own.”
Her daughter moved to sit next to her. “What happened?”
“The king told them he would not accept their treaty, and then the persecution began.”
The young woman frowned. “The Shimat began persecuting the L’avan?”
E’rian smiled sadly. “No, they are much too subtle for that. They used all of their influences to create fear and distrust of the L’avan among other people. After that, they just had to sit back and watch. We were driven from our homes by farmers, merchants and artisans, all of whom thought they were protecting their families and ways of life from our evil influences.”
