Lucien

by James Moloney

  ‘Tamlyn, is that you?’ I whispered.

  No reply came, and the figure moved quickly out of my room into the passageway. I threw back the sheets and went after him, catching up as we both emerged into the open space around the fountain. Moonlight streaming down let me see who it was.

  ‘Lucien, did you want me, my darling?’

  The endearment had come naturally when he’d been small enough to carry in my arms, but now it felt strange on my tongue. All the same, I was his mother in all but name and that hadn’t changed. I stepped closer and put my hand on his shoulder. He reached up with his own and laid it on top of mine. His skin was cold.

  ‘I’m sorry if I gave you a fright,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t you sleep?’

  ‘No. When I try, I see pictures in my head, the ones you showed me in that huge building.’

  ‘The mosaics?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t like that word, Silvermay. I don’t like what they show and what they say about me.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have shown them to you.’

  ‘No, you were right to do it. I needed to know who I am. What I am,’ he corrected and I winced at his meaning. ‘No wonder that serving girl refused to come near me, and she’s not the only one. When other servants see me coming along the passageway, they turn and flee.’

  My poor Lucien. I couldn’t bear to think of the anguish he must feel when people treated him that way.

  ‘That’s not how it should be, my darling,’ I said, and this time the endearment sounded right. ‘A handsome young man like you should have girls clamouring to catch your eye.’

  He turned to stare at me, as though he could never imagine such a thing occurring. Then he backed away and I was sure I could see a touch of guilt in his face.

  ‘You have no reason to feel ashamed of yourself, Lucien, no matter how those silly servants behave. All of us who know you — Tamlyn and Ryall and me — we love you. Keep that in the front of your mind and you’ll sleep better. Off you go now, back to bed.’

  He obeyed, but the droop of his shoulders told me I had not convinced him.

  Despite my worries about Lucien, the comfort of a warm bed lulled me into a deep sleep that proved hard to shake off. It was mid-morning before I got up and put on the dress Delgar had sent to my room to replace the torn and filthy yellow one.

  I found Lucien in the courtyard with Ryall, both of them engrossed in a task I couldn’t make out at first. Going closer, I saw something else.

  ‘You’ve cut your hair!’ I said. And not very well, I might have added.

  Lucien turned to look at me, which only confirmed what a terrible job he had made of it.

  ‘I’ll send for some shears,’ I told him. ‘You can’t go about looking like that.’

  He didn’t seem to care, and neither did Ryall, who hadn’t put a comb through his hair in all the time I’d known him. Boys! I was glad to see them together like this, though, and Lucien so absorbed in whatever they were doing. Now that I stood next to them I could see what that was.

  ‘Your hair!’ I exclaimed.

  Ryall was plaiting the long hank that Lucien had chopped off, probably with a knife borrowed from the kitchen. But when I’d watched Ryall’s nimble fingers at work for a minute, I realised plaiting was the wrong word. Women plaited their hair; Ryall had something else in mind altogether.

  ‘See how the strands twine over one another,’ he said to Lucien. ‘That’s what keeps them together and gives them strength. Hair is a good thing to use. Very strong.’

  ‘How long can you make it?’ asked Lucien.

  ‘As long as you like, really, but the shorter you make it, the stronger it will be. How long do you have in mind?’

  Lucien gave the question considerable thought. ‘About this long,’ he said, holding his hands apart a little wider than his body. ‘That should do it.’

  I left them to it and went to look for Tamlyn. I found him searching for me with some titbits he’d saved from breakfast. He’d been saving a kiss for me, too, which I enjoyed just as much.

  ‘Yes, I saw them together, too,’ he said when I told him what Lucien and Ryall were doing. ‘Ryall certainly likes showing off his skills.’

  ‘I thought Lucien would look to you for friendship, since you were a Wyrdborn, too, not so long ago,’ I said.

  ‘I thought so, as well, yet this morning at breakfast he seemed nervous of me and didn’t want to talk. We’re lucky to have Ryall — he’s closer to his age.’

  But how old is Lucien, I wondered. Measuring the span of time since his birth meant nothing. And I was younger than Ryall. If anyone was closest to Lucien’s ‘age’, it was me.

  Through the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon, Elders arrived to speak with Delgar — behind closed doors, of course, and almost certainly about Lucien.

  With the rope of hair made to his satisfaction, Lucien had left the courtyard although I saw him watching the comings and goings from a passageway near the front door. He knew what the meetings were about as much as I did.

  Tamlyn and I had our own job to do, however we weren’t as successful as I would have liked. We’d pledged to free Lucien from the curse of his Wyrdborn birth and, since Felan magic alone wasn’t enough, we hoped their scholars might help. Delgar gave us three names and sent notes to them all on our behalf. Alas, only one replied, and even though he agreed to visit us, when the time came he didn’t appear at Delgar’s door.

  ‘This will be Birchon’s doing, I’m afraid,’ Delgar told us. ‘He speaks against you every chance he gets.’

  When the sun abandoned the courtyard and the air began to cool, Tamlyn and I sat beside the dancing fountain. Lucien appeared amid the shadows, but rather than approach us he stood there waiting.

  Tamlyn took the hint. ‘He wants you to himself, Silvermay.’

  Tamlyn had barely left before Lucien was beside me. He carried the rope he and Ryall had made from his hair.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Silvermay. My mind hasn’t stopped thinking, really, ever since we left the battlefield and all those men I killed.’

  ‘It must be hard for you.’ I put my hand on his forearm.

  He seemed to flinch at my touch, and I realised he was rigid with tension.

  ‘Then you showed me the mosaics,’ he went on, ‘and that made me think even more. I’m afraid of what will happen, Silvermay. I’m afraid of what I’ll do. I don’t feel the strength in me, but it is there. Look at how I tore that house apart yesterday. I didn’t think twice about it, and if I had found the man who’d fired the arrow, nothing you could have said would have stopped me. There was an anger in me that I couldn’t control, that I didn’t want to control. It felt good, Silvermay. That was how it was when I swung the sword, taking on one Wyrdborn after another. I wanted to kill every one of them, and the more I killed the more ….’ He stopped and let his head fall forward. ‘I’m ashamed to say it, but I enjoyed it,’ he muttered.

  ‘No,’ I said, but who was I talking to? Did I need to convince him that it wasn’t true, or me?

  ‘I know now why you and Tamlyn wanted to kill me. I wish you had ended my life there in the cave.’

  ‘No,’ I said again and this time I was utterly certain of my meaning. ‘It would have been cold-blooded murder, and of an innocent child.’

  ‘But I’m not innocent,’ he insisted. ‘I had blood on my hands even then. I’ve guessed how Nerigold died. I did to her what I did to the Wyrdborn, even my father. I took my mother’s life, too, my own mother. Here, Silvermay.’ He pressed the rope of hair into my hands. ‘Tamlyn says a Wyrdborn can only be killed by something he owns. This rope is what you need. Use it to strangle me before I kill anyone else.’

  Not in a hundred years could I have guessed what was in Lucien’s mind. I stood back from him to read his face and every movement of his body.

  ‘No. It doesn’t have to be that way. There is good in your soul and that makes you different from other Wyrdborn.’

  I had us
ed the same words to persuade Geran when she came close to killing Lucien, and I had used them again to earn him a reprieve after Delgar guessed who he was. Now I must use them to persuade Lucien himself.

  ‘You have a right to live. You are not like your father, Coyle. Cruelty was born into his bones.’

  ‘And I killed him with no more thought than swatting a fly.’

  ‘To protect those you care about. Do you hear those words, Lucien? You care about others and that makes you different.’

  ‘But it was killing all the same, Silvermay. That’s all I am, a killing machine. Even when I do things for good reasons, I kill.’

  ‘That’s not true. Look what you did for Ryall. A new arm was the greatest gift he could have hoped for. It was a thoughtful thing to do, a caring thing — no Wyrdborn would ever think of such kindness.’

  Finally I had said something that made him pause. Though the light of the day was mostly gone, I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  I made him sit with me on the stone seat at the end of the courtyard and my hand slipped over his, squeezing gently. With my other, I cupped the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as I had done many times when he was so much smaller.

  ‘You are still my little Smiler,’ I whispered in his ear, ‘and I love you.’

  My touch and my words soothed him and I sensed his entire body relax. He was listening now. This was my chance.

  ‘Those horrible mosaics are the visions of men who lived centuries ago. They don’t have to become real. You have a choice, Lucien. You can live according to the good in your soul and not the evil born into you. While we remain here in Erebis Felan, there is still a chance that the curse will be stripped away from you, just as we’d hoped.’

  His left hand joined his right, searching out my own until we were connected like dancers ready for a reel. He stared into my face and let me see how close he was to believing.

  ‘It’s not just me who will tell you such things,’ I said. ‘I’ll call the others, so you can hear from their own lips.’ I looked up and saw Tamlyn emerge from the passageway on the far side of the courtyard. ‘Look, here comes Tamlyn now.’

  Instantly Lucien released my hands and pushed away from me. ‘No, not Tamlyn,’ he said, and before I could stop him he hurried off in the opposite direction, brushing shoulders with Ryall who was coming the other way.

  I looked down to find the rope of hair on the seat beside me. That was a relief, at least.

  18

  A Different Kind of Love

  Tamlyn and Ryall reached me at the same time.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Tamlyn. ‘Lucien took off like a frightened deer.’

  ‘He almost bowled me over in the passageway,’ said Ryall, looking just as concerned.

  I handed Tamlyn the rope and explained what Lucien had asked me to do with it.

  ‘Poor Lucien,’ said Tamlyn. ‘Do you think you convinced him?’

  I shrugged. The job was only half done, which was why I was pleased the rope remained with us.

  ‘I had no idea what he was planning,’ said Ryall, taking the rope and rubbing his thumb across its silky strands. ‘I would never have …’ He trailed off.

  ‘He seems to like you, Ryall,’ I said. ‘Will you speak to him?’

  ‘I’ll speak to him, too,’ said Tamlyn.

  ‘No, he’s uncomfortable around you for some reason. You sensed it yourself yesterday, didn’t you?’

  Tamlyn nodded, but I could tell by the confusion on his face that he had no idea why Lucien felt that way.

  ‘We need to know what he’s got against you,’ I said with a sigh.

  Ryall stirred, though his eyes remained on the rope of hair in his hands.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Has he said something to you?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t said anything, but I think I might know what’s troubling him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Ryall made a face to show he didn’t want to say any more, then he raised his head to look at me at last. ‘Silvermay, when I first met you in Nan Tocha, I felt … well, I felt attracted to you. At our age, it’s hardly an unnatural thing, is it?’

  ‘No, I suppose not, but what’s that got to do with —’

  He put up his hand to stop me and then went on himself. ‘You thought I was too young and you made it very plain you had no interest in me, not the way I was hoping, anyway. But what made me really understand I had no chance was seeing you with Tamlyn.’

  His meaning sliced through me like a spear of lightning.

  ‘You mean Lucien is … No, you’re making it up,’ I said sharply.

  ‘Why would I upset you like this if I didn’t think it was true? I’ve been watching him as closely as you have, Silvermay, and it’s the only reason I can see for the way he is acting, even if he can’t put it into words for himself.’ He turned to Tamlyn. ‘Do you think I’m making it up?’

  Tamlyn seemed surprised to be asked and took a moment to answer. ‘Lucien loved you like a little boy loves his mother, Silvermay. Now he has been catapulted into the body of a young man. Is it so strange that the way he feels love should change as well?’

  ‘But they are two different kinds of love,’ I said. ‘Yes, he loves me, but he can’t be in love with me.’

  ‘Can’t he?’ responded Ryall. ‘We have to be careful. No force can stand against him when he wants something for himself. Whether he is the monster of those mosaics or not, he is still a Wyrdborn.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him,’ I said.

  ‘No, leave him be,’ Ryall said sharply. ‘I remember when I was jealous of Tamlyn, I just wanted to be by myself. A man deals with things differently. Give him a chance to think through what he is feeling.’

  ‘But you said it yourself — he’s a Wyrdborn. He can’t do that the way commonfolk do. He needs us to help him. Will you come with me?’

  Ryall folded his arms and refused to move. ‘It’s a mistake, Silvermay.’

  Tamlyn didn’t seem convinced, either, but he trusted me more than Ryall did and by the time I entered the passageway on the way to the room Lucien shared with him and Ryall, he had fallen into step beside me.

  There was no answer when I knocked at the door, and even when I peered inside, the room seemed empty. But then I saw him — not on the bed, or even at the window with its grand view of the streets and houses behind Delgar’s home, but huddled in a corner. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, his handsome young face staring up at me like a rabbit boxed in by a pair of dogs. Of course I was right to come in search of him.

  ‘Wait here,’ I whispered to Tamlyn and entered the room.

  I reached down my hand to Lucien and, after hesitating at first, he took it. I coaxed him from the corner to sit on the bed beside me. As we’d done near the fountain, we grasped hands and I turned to face him as openly as I could.

  Lucien’s eyes flicked towards Tamlyn, who had not strayed from the doorway. I followed his gaze and saw, just as he must have done, that Tamlyn’s face was filled with the sympathy of a friend.

  ‘You mustn’t be afraid of what your heart makes you feel,’ I told Lucien. ‘The heart is the most honest part of us all. It’s always best to face up to what it is telling you. It knows what no one else can tell you.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Lucien asked.

  ‘It knows who you love, and it knows who loves you in return.’

  He thought about this, but made no reply, instead glancing again at Tamlyn.

  I decided it would be easier for him if I led the way and so I said brightly, ‘I’m lucky to be loved by the people I love most in return.’

  ‘Do you love me, Silvermay?’ he asked in a soft and desperate voice, reminding me again of the deep need in him despite all the magic and power that inhabited his body.

  ‘Yes, I love you, Lucien. I love you in the way Nerigold would have loved you, forever and without limits, and with joy and sadness, too, because I feel some of every hurt that you feel.
I love you with hope for what lies ahead, that you’ll be happy being who you are and satisfied with the good things you do, and I love you because you will come to me to tell me what matters to you, your dreams and your fears.’

  ‘But … you love Tamlyn, too … don’t you?’ he replied, his voice tentative, confused.

  There was no confusion about that for me. ‘Yes, Lucien, I love Tamlyn in a different way, a way that’s only for us, even though everyone around us can see how it makes us feel.’

  ‘Yes, I can see how it makes you feel,’ said Lucien.

  I couldn’t hold back the smile I felt as we spoke, a smile that showed how naturally the warmth and pleasure of that love flowed into my life.

  ‘There’s enough love in me for both of the men in my life,’ I said grandly.

  Before I knew what had happened, Lucien had flown from the bed beside me and pinned Tamlyn against the wall. He moved so quickly I doubted even Tamlyn knew what was happening until he found himself with Lucien’s hand at his throat. He grabbed Lucien’s arm, but he might as well have tried to break a shaft of steel.

  ‘I don’t want to share your love with anyone, Silvermay,’ Lucien cried. ‘I want your love for myself, all of it.’

  He pushed his splayed hand tighter against Tamlyn’s neck and a terrible sound filled the bedroom — the desperate rasping of a man slowly choking.

  ‘Lucien!’ I rushed to his side and took hold of his arm just as Tamlyn was doing. ‘Let him breathe!’ I demanded.

  ‘You are mine, Silvermay,’ said Lucien. ‘I don’t want to hear about my mother. I don’t want to hear how you love me like a little baby. I am special to you, aren’t I, ahead of everyone else. And I show how special you are to me by making people do what you want. But I can’t bear the way you look at Tamlyn. You must love me, and no one else.’

  My mind was so full of the horror of Tamlyn dying I couldn’t make it work.

  ‘Lucien, listen to me,’ I spluttered, unsure of the words that would fall out of me next. ‘You’re thinking like a Wyrdborn.’