The Heart of Two Worlds

by Anne Plichota

  “My stomach conveys happiness beyond all comparison!” he said, his belly distended.

  Oksa smiled at him.

  “I’d never have thought you were such a greedy-guts!” she teased gently.

  She looked at her father, who was standing by the window, staring out blankly at the vast landscape. The future had never been so uncertain. She walked over to him.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” she whispered.

  “You heard Ocious, didn’t you? As soon as the Ageless Ones give the sign, the Cloak Chamber will admit you. You’ll then become the Gracious and your first task will be to restore equilibrium.”

  “But how am I going to do that? I have no idea what to do!” Oksa felt lost.

  “Don’t forget what Abakum said: the Ageless Ones will guide you,” reminded Pavel. “You must trust them.”

  “Dad, can you tell me who or what the Supreme Entity is?”

  “If the father of the Young Gracious will offer the gift of assent, your Lunatrix will undertake an initiative of enlightenment,” broke in the small steward.

  Pavel nodded.

  “The Supreme Entity was the embodiment of the equilibrium of Edefia, the Heart of the World,” said the Lunatrix.

  “Of the two worlds!” corrected Oksa. “But where is this Entity now?”

  The Lunatrix paled slightly before continuing:

  “It was wreathed in disappearance along with the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told, the Chamber and the life of Gracious Malorane.”

  “That’s terrible…” remarked Oksa. The Lunatrix nodded.

  “Has the Entity been reborn?” asked Oksa.

  “Perhaps there’s a new one,” suggested Pavel. “Lunatrix, do you know?”

  The Lunatrix opened his eyes incredibly wide.

  “Your domestic staff cannot deliver words without possessing certainty.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that!” exclaimed Oksa. “Tell us, even if it’s only a guess.”

  The Lunatrix shook his head and repeated:

  “Your domestic staff cannot deliver words without possessing certainty.”

  “Oh! That’s a pity,” sighed Oksa.

  Her slate-grey eyes clouded with worry.

  “I wonder what it will be like. I’m scared, even though I can’t wait for it to happen.”

  Pavel got up and tiptoed over to the door. He pressed his ear against it to listen, then came back, with his finger to his lips.

  “Your enthronement will be an enjoyable, magical experience,” he murmured. “It’s only afterwards, when you’re a Gracious, that things will get complicated. Ocious will do everything in his power to make you open the Portal for him.”

  “But Dad, I’ll have to open the damn Portal!” said Oksa, trying hard to keep her voice down. “Mum and Gus need us. Otherwise, they’ll die…”

  The words caught in her throat.

  “The problem is, Oksa, that we don’t yet know what will replace the Secret-That-Is-No-Longer-A-Secret. Or what new rules will be imposed on you in the Chamber. None of us is sure that the Portal can be reopened… without you losing your life.”

  A wave of dizziness and fear washed over Oksa as her breathing accelerated. The Lunatrix put his small podgy hand on hers.

  “Before the Great Chaos, the Graciouses were the only ones possessed of the secret of the opening of the Portal, to the exclusion of all Insiders. Some performed visitations to the Outside, for example there existed Graciouses who practised the encountering of Confucius and Galileo. However, the population of Edefia was conserved in ignorance. The drastic change occurred with the accompaniment of the Great Chaos when the knowledge of the secret was made public. Since then, the Portal has experienced two openings and each time it has claimed the life of the Gracious who held possession of that power: Gracious Malorane and the Much-Loved Old Gracious.”

  Oksa groaned at the still-vivid memory of Baba Pollock fading as the Portal appeared.

  “The only thing that matters to Ocious is reaching the Outside once I’ve restored equilibrium,” she stammered. “He won’t bat an eyelid if I die opening the Portal…”

  The Lunatrix glanced at Pavel, worried that he’d said too much, but Pavel nodded: everything he had said was the truth, however hard it was to hear.

  “Let’s wait and see what you learn in the Cloak Chamber,” he said, trying not to show his unease. “And trust us: we won’t let anyone put you in harm’s way, on my word as a Runaway.”

  Oksa gave him a weak smile, then lay back on her bed, her heart pounding in her chest.

  51

  A COMFORTING VISIT

  THE YOUNG GRACIOUS’S MOOD WAS AS DARK AS EDEFIA’S louring sky now her father had been escorted back to his quarters by a close-mouthed Werewall and two zealous Vigilians. Still, it had been comforting to have a short chat in private, despite the pessimistic overtones of their conversation. At least she had her father—Gus was all on his own.

  “Don’t think about Gus… Don’t think about Mum…” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Ever loyal and conscientious, the Lunatrix got up from his armchair and went over to Oksa. Since he’d become her personal Lunatrix, he was never far away and remained continually attentive to her every need. Oksa looked round, then knelt down so she was at eye level with him—she’d suddenly had an idea.

  “Lunatrix! I’m sure you can tell me how they are!”

  The small steward gazed at her with his customary kindness and shook his head.

  “The frontiers of Edefia possess great opacity,” he said regretfully. “Your domestic staff is thwarted, his cerebral access to the Outside experiences unfitness.”

  Oksa’s face clouded over.

  “But if you will turn your gaze in that direction,” continued the Lunatrix, pointing to the bay window. “A friendly visit is imminent…”

  Unnoticed by the pair of Vigilians keeping a watch on things outside the Column, two tiny golden birds were tapping on the glass with their minuscule beaks.

  “The Ptitchkins!” exclaimed Oksa, immediately covering her mouth with her hand.

  Suppressing her impatience, she casually stood up and went over to open the window, as if she fancied a breath of fresh air on the balcony. The Ptitchkins were chasing each other back and forth in front of her, as if playing. Becoming bored by their looping flight, the Vigilians eventually stopped watching. The Ptitchkins then swooped down and hid beneath Oksa’s hair just before she went back inside and slammed the window shut.

  “Young Gracious!” they chirped in her ear. “It’s wonderful to see you!”

  “Where were you, Ptitchkins?” she asked, turning her back on the sentinels.

  “In Abakum’s quarters with the Squoracles and the rest of the menagerie.”

  “Is everyone OK?”

  “So-so,” replied one of the tiny birds. “Anarchy reigns, as always… the Squoracles are complaining about the weather, the Incompetents are doing everything at half-speed and the Getorixes won’t stay in one place for a second. I won’t even mention the Goranovs, which are making themselves ill…”

  “Why?” asked Oksa.

  “They’re afraid the Werewalls are planning to extract their sap in industrial quantities.”

  Oksa couldn’t help smiling. She’d always felt a sincere, if amused, sympathy for the Goranovs.

  “Poor things, they must be in a real state.”

  “The Getorixes told them stress was more likely to kill them than the Werewalls,” added one of the Ptitchkins.

  Oksa laughed. This visit from the tiny golden birds had really improved her mood.

  “It must be pretty lively there,” she remarked.

  “It’s total chaos.”

  “Where are Abakum’s quarters?” asked Oksa.

  She was longing to see the Fairyman.

  “Opposite yours, on the north-east side of the Column, between the rooms occupied by Naftali and Tugdual.”

  At the mention of Tugdual’s name, Oksa looked up
and asked tremulously:

  “How is he?”

  “He has a message for you, that’s why we came to see you.”

  Oksa felt a thrill of excitement.

  “Our jailers are watching the exits, but they’re not guarding the inside of apartments, except for yours, which is being kept under closer watch than the others,” chirruped the tiny bird, very quietly. “Some of the Runaways with Werewall powers have managed to pass from room to room without anyone noticing.”

  “Fantastic!” murmured Oksa.

  The Vigilians were pressed against the bay window, watching Oksa closely.

  “Tugdual suggests you launch a campaign of destruction against those vile insects that are watching every move you make.”

  “Because he’d like to visit you,” finished the second tiny messenger.

  This thought gave Oksa courage, and made her shiver with anticipation. She turned to look at the diabolical insects, which were watching her intently. They were so revolting that she had no qualms about killing them. Initially, she considered a Fireballistico. The one Tugdual had fired during the council meeting had been very effective, instantly reducing the Vigilian to ash.

  “What if I miss though? I’ll be in big trouble then,” she muttered, chewing a nail.

  What about a Granok? That could be the answer, but which one? And how could she be sure that Granoks would work on the hideous blue caterpillars?

  “Come on, Oksa-san, stop prevaricating,” she scolded herself. “Act!”

  One option appealed to her more than the others. She got up and resolutely opened the bay window. The Vigilians moved out of the way as she leant against the balcony railing, but remained nearby.

  “What are you doing?” they asked when they saw her take out her Granok-Shooter.

  They were buzzing with agitation, hairs erect, ready to attack.

  “I’d like to use a Reticulata to look at the mountains, if that’s OK with you?” replied Oksa, not allowing herself to be distracted by her revulsion at the two insects or by the painful consequences of possible failure.

  The Vigilians seemed to hesitate, then hovered just above Oksa, as she’d hoped. She spoke the appropriate magic words in her head and, looking up unexpectedly, whispered into her Granok-Shooter which was pointed at her sentinels—who were hit head-on by a Hypnagogo.

  “Didn’t you mention a trip to the Distant Reaches?” asked one of the two caterpillars.

  “Oooh, yes!” replied the other, with a pirouette in the air. “Why don’t we go now? There are some flowers there with un-belie-vable pistils. You’ll love them!”

  And the two caterpillars took flight, disappearing into the distance before Oksa’s amazed eyes.

  “That was effective!” she exclaimed. “I love this Granok.”

  “Bravo, Lil’ Gracious!” remarked a familiar voice behind her.

  Her whole body was suffused with warmth, reminding her just how much she loved him. Despite tragedy. Despite her doubts. Despite everything. She turned round, eyes shining.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said, pretending to scratch her head nonchalantly. “You took your time!”

  “I was just waiting for you to get rid of your winged chaperones,” replied Tugdual, poker-faced.

  Simply dressed in black T-shirt and trousers, he was leaning against a column in the middle of the room, hands in pockets, his face framed by black hair.

  “Are you OK?” stammered Oksa, disconcerted. “I hope the walls weren’t too… thick?”

  They both laughed nervously at this odd question, feeling relieved and happy.

  “Abakum, my grandparents, the Bellangers, my mother and Till send their love,” said Tugdual.

  “Gosh,” said Oksa, giving a whistle of admiration, “you covered some ground getting here!”

  “Did you really think you’d be able to keep this sumptuous apartment all to yourself?” he replied, looking around the vast room. “It’s the largest and most comfortable suite in the place, they’re spoiling you.”

  “One of the advantages of being a Gracious,” she retorted.

  Tugdual suddenly strode over to stand just a few inches from her, taking her by surprise. He cupped her face in his hands, gazed intently at her, then dropped a feather-light kiss on her lips.

  “One of the advantages of being me,” he murmured.

  She nestled against him and they gently rested their foreheads together, a simple gesture that best expressed their emotion at seeing each other again.

  “Come on,” he said, suddenly taking her hand and pulling her towards the door. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  52

  SUBTERRANEAN TOUR

  STANDING FACE TO FACE IN THE GLASS LIFT PLUMMETING into the depths of the Column, Oksa and Tugdual gazed at each other. The pair had made short work of the sentries: a simple Dozident Granok fired by Oksa had plunged the two Vigilians into a deep sleep, while Tugdual had neutralized the one guard with a tightly knotted Arborescens.

  “He didn’t know what had hit him,” remarked Oksa.

  Tugdual just smiled. His eyes were shining with their usual chilly brilliance and his face bore no trace of the ordeals they’d been through, as if he were untouched by time and tragedy. However Oksa knew that wasn’t the case. She could now recognize his mask, even if she wasn’t always sure what it was hiding. Unable to help herself, she brushed away a strand of hair concealing part of Tugdual’s face. As in the Council Chamber, the only visible indication of his inner agitation was the fast beat of his pulse under the skin of his temple. She pressed it gently with her fingertips to show Tugdual that she knew and that she was there for him. He covered her hand with his, pressing it against his face, then kissed her palm. Oksa could have stayed like this for hours, but the lift reached its destination and the doors slid open to reveal unusually transparent rough stone walls. Oksa looked at Tugdual, without daring to say a word.

  “We’re in the Column’s first basement, Lil’ Gracious,” Tugdual said. “The lift doesn’t go any deeper, but there are seven more levels below this.”

  “How do you know?” asked Oksa in surprise. Tugdual gave a small smile.

  “Let’s just say that a few of us decided not to waste our Werewall gifts… they have to be good for something, don’t they?”

  He pulled her along a wide passageway, whose steeply sloping floor made it difficult to walk slowly and carefully. After twisting her ankle hurrying down the incline, Oksa clung onto Tugdual’s arm, but they soon decided it would be faster to Vertifly. The stone walls glowed with a light that seemed to come from nowhere, bathing the two intruders in a milky radiance that had an almost magical quality. For the first time since she’d arrived in Edefia, Oksa felt free and happy. These minutes spent flying beside Tugdual felt like a short reprieve from the waking nightmare which had become her life. For a short time she forgot everything before reality regained the upper hand.

  “Where does this light come from?” wondered Oksa, admiring the shimmering glow.

  “It comes from the bowels of the Earth and is reflected thousands of times over by the transparent stones,” remarked Tugdual. “Did you notice how they were cut?”

  “Like precious stones,” replied Oksa, stroking the perfectly geometrical facets.

  “That enables them to intensify the light endlessly. It’s even brighter now than when I came here before.”

  “But how can there be light coming from below us?”

  “That’s what you’re about to find out, Lil’ Gracious.”

  “And, of course, you’re going to make me wait so that I can see for myself…”

  “You’re getting to know me well,” he admitted, sounding amused.

  At the end of the passageway, they came to a flight of stairs. After descending the fifty steps, holding on to the walls, they reached another passageway, about a hundred feet long. Although the light barely diminished as they forged deeper and deeper into the Glass Column, the tunnels grew narrower, making it impossibl
e to Vertifly. Oksa wondered how many hundreds of feet below ground they were now.

  “Shut your eyes,” said Tugdual, when they came to the seventh passageway.

  Oksa shook her head firmly.

  “This is no time to play games!” she objected.

  “Shut your eyes.”

  Reluctantly she did as she was told, cautiously shuffling along as he led her by the hand. The ground had levelled out, but the ceiling was very low and they could touch both walls by stretching out their arms to the side. Tugdual went to stand behind Oksa, his hands on her shoulders, and guided her to the end of the last passageway.

  “We’re here,” he said. “You can open your eyes.”

  Oksa didn’t need to be told twice and gasped in surprise at the breathtaking beauty surrounding them: she was looking at a vast domed chamber, lined with brightly coloured translucent stones scattering the light in myriad directions. The air was mild, if dusty and slightly oppressive. A sort of glittery ash on the ground muffled their footsteps and rose in small sparkling plumes whenever Oksa and Tugdual moved.

  “Amazing!” Oksa exclaimed. “Do you think they’re precious stones?” she asked, running her hand over an impossibly blue wall.

  “Probably,” replied Tugdual, peering through the transparent stone.

  “Oksa!” suddenly yelled a familiar voice.

  Oksa whirled round.

  “ZOE!!!”

  They ran to each other, kicking up clouds of sparks, and hugged affectionately.

  “Oksa! Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine! But you don’t look so good…”

  Oksa was delighted to be reunited with sweet, sensible Zoe, her best friend as well as her second cousin. She looked terrible. Her large brown eyes looked enormous in her gaunt face. She seemed to have lost a lot of weight and her T-shirt was hanging off her.

  “Things aren’t brilliant, but we’re all in the same boat, aren’t we?” remarked Zoe, looking down. “We’re all coping as best we can.”