Journey To Light: Part I of the High Duties of Pacia

by Bob Craton

CHAPTER 3

  Graice and Holder § 2

  At the end of Drunken Scum Street, a gated fence blocked the way. It had been erected by citizens in nearby neighborhoods to keep the denizens of the dockyard slums where they belonged. It didn’t work very well, there being many ways to get around it, but symbolism was important to the people of Matik. When Graice and Holder reached it, an elderly watchman opened the gate for them. As he did, he grabbed a torch and held it out to Graice.

  “Take this, Sistére,” he said. “It’s gotten plumb dark.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Graice replied and a smile cracked the man’s weathered old face. His look changed to bewilderment, however, when Holder reached and took the torch instead. Noticing Holder for the first time, the watchman frowned but then turned back to the Sistére and knew everything was all right. “A pleasant evening to you, good watchman,” Graice said as they passed and his smile widened to the absolute limits of his lips.

  A moment later, the man realized he had forgotten his manners and called out, “Thank you, Sistére.”

  Graice led Holder up the hill on Potters Street and then half-left onto Madder Lane. The quality of the buildings around them improved as they walked. This neighborhood would never be fashionable but it was a noticeable improvement from the street they had left. Shops and small manufactories seemed to be profitable, and reputable-looking people (well, most of them anyway) were in the process of locking the doors for the night and heading for bed. Those who were on the street usually said hello to Graice and a percentage of them actually made eye contact with her. Obviously, the latter were those with clear consciences. When they saw Holder, however, they shied away and left him plenty of room to pass. Once or twice he overheard murmurs as one said to another, “Don’t worry, he can’t cause trouble. The Sistére has him.”

  “We’re going to Regents Avenue. The Way-House is near the old city wall. Not far from Sudost Gate to be exact,” Graice explained as they walked. “But it’s really not as far as it sounds, so don’t worry.”

  “I won’t,” he answered and then a moment later he added, “You walk well.”

  “Thank you. I get a lot of practice.”

  “Your shoes look bad, though.”

  Graice looked down, mostly to make sure her ankles weren’t showing. “I think these look nice. What’s wrong with them?”

  “Fancy. Too soft for walking.”

  “I guess they do seem fancy considering the embroidery, but that’s only the upper parts. Underneath is real leather with strong soles,” she explained. “Actually, I only wore these today because I wanted to impress someone I met with earlier, and frankly I expected a carriage ride home that wasn’t offered. You would approve of what I normally wear, I think”

  “You could walk far with good shoes,” he said. “I can tell such things.”

  “Hmm? Oh, I understand. Working on caravans, you must have evaluated people based on how far they can walk. I guess I sounded silly telling you don’t worry, it’s not far. I realize you can walk much farther than I can. Faster too. My legs are hurrying and yours are just strolling.”

  “Mine are longer,” he pointed out. He turned his head to her and added, “I can carry you if you get tired.”

  “What? That’s not a prop . . .,” she started, but she caught herself as she saw his face. There was no guile in him at all, nothing suggestive. He was not trying a trick to get to touch her. (But why, Graice wondered, had she mentioned her legs like that? Madrére Antonetta didn’t say anything, but she was lurking inside Graice’s head, ready to pounce.) Graice calmed her voice and said, “Thank you, but I’m quite self reliant.”

  “I didn’t mean to carry you now. Maybe someday, if you need it.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind but I don’t think it will ever be necessary.”

  “As you say.”

  Before long, they reached the wider spaces of Regents Avenue, a good road with streetlamps, almost half of which were lit. Holder’s torch hissed and faded now but it still shed a modicum of light. Here the buildings were spaced apart and surrounded by stone walls with sturdy gates. Although still not exactly a fashionable neighborhood, these homes were for successful businessmen who had made enough coin to move up a notch in the world. Separated from the others stood a building with no protective wall at all, only a low fence made of wooden slats painted white.

  “This is it,” Graice said when they reached the gate. Seeing a young girl in the doorway, she called, “Helena, please go ask Ignacio to show Holder here to the guest room. Then get some clean bedding and give it to Ignacio.” The girl nodded and hurried away. “I’m sorry to rush off, Holder, but I need to go inside now. I have matters to report and I’m later than expected. Ignacio will be here in a minute to get you set up. Please wait outside the gate until he comes.”

  “As you say.”

  “Please say you’ll stay in the morning so I can talk to you. I’m sure Madrére Sybille will want to meet you too.”

  “If you wish.” The words themselves seemed compliant but his manner did not. He was not the least bit subservient, only polite.

  “You’re a puzzle, you know,” she told him. “Well, goodnight for now. Ignacio will be here momentarily.”

  Holder watched as she hurried to the door and went inside; then he looked around. The House sat on a larger lot than others on the street and the white fence enclosed only a portion of the property. Obviously the fence was meant as a boundary line and not an obstacle since Holder could have easily climbed over it. The building itself looked homey and sturdy, not ornate or extravagant. Fine trees grew around it, both inside and outside the fence. It was the nicest place Holder had seen within the sprawling walls of Matik, but then he had never been to the area around Patron’s Hill on the north-side, of course. Soon a small man carrying a candle came around the side from the back of the property. He walked outside the fence.

  “I’m Ignacio. I’ll show you the way,” he said when he arrived. “You can leave that torch here in the gutter.” Holder gave the man a fast look-over. His hair was gray but his body was whipcord thin and seemed fit. Holder surmised that the man could walk a good distance before his age betrayed him. Then Ignacio saw the open gate and became alarmed. “Wait, did you step inside the fence?”

  “No.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, would you? If you can’t be trusted, I should tell the Madrére now.”

  “Not trust me? Why do you say this?” Holder frowned but the older man didn’t notice the look.

  “The fence marks the boundary line and any man who would try to get into a House after dark cannot be trusted,” Ignacio said sharply.

  “Why?”

  “Because we can’t go inside at night! Don’t you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a simpleton? Where have you been all your life?”

  “Traveling, for what I can remember of it.” This time the edge in his voice was clear. Ignacio decided that angering a stranger of this size and strength might not be advisable and softened his tone.

  “Listen, don’t be upset. It’s nothing personal. I can’t go in either and I’ve worked for Madrére Sybille for thirty years.” Then he raised an arm as if he meant to pull the gate closed, but he stopped immediately and dithered as if he was making some major decision. Holder, who was observant about many things, noticed that the man’s hand would have crossed the boundary line had he reached for the gate. Ignacio dropped his arm and said, “I’ll tell Helena to come close it. Say, if you didn’t leave it open, who did?”

  “Graice.”

  “You call her Graice?” Ignacio asked in surprise.

  “That’s what she told me to do.”

  The older man shook his head and turned to go back the way he had come, waiving for Holder to follow. As he walked, Ignacio mumbled, “Impropriety. Such casualness breeds it. Of all people, Sistére Graice should insist on being referred to by title and not first name only. She’s not like ordinary Sistéres,
after all.” He wasn’t really talking to Holder but he muttered loud enough to be heard.

  “What are ordinary Sistéres like?” Holder asked.

  “What?” Ignacio replied with a start. “Was I speaking out loud? I need to be more careful about that. But why do you ask about regular Sistéres?”

  “I don’t know anything about them.”

  “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” said Ignacio as they reached the guest room. It turned out to be a freestanding structure rather than part of the House itself. It was small but sturdy, built of solid adobe with a good roof. And it was outside the fence. The old man led Holder in and set the candle down on a little table which was the only furniture besides the bed. The room was simple and plain but immaculately clean. As Holder set his pack-bag on the floor, Ignacio said, “I’ll leave the candle in case you need it. The pitcher and bowl on the table are for your use and you can get water at the well. It’s to the left outside, and the privies are to the right behind a row of bamboo. The blankets and bedding are . . . .”

  “Are here,” said a clear crystalline voice. They both turned to see the girl Helena at the open door.

  “I’ll take those, child,” said Ignacio as he hurried to take the blankets from her. “Don’t you come . . .”

  “Don’t come where, grandfather? You shouldn’t call me a child. If I really was one, it wouldn’t matter if I came in, would it?” she interrupted. The gleeful mischief in her face was blatant. “If I’m bad, will you tell on me?”

  “Yes, I will,” Ignacio warned her but his words daunted her not a bit. Turning her bright curious eyes at Holder, she looked him over without any trace of inhibition. Then with a burst of shining laughter, she darted away. Ignacio sighed as he carried the blankets to the bed.

  “Helena would make the bed for you except, well, she’s twelve now and it is after dark. I’ll make it instead.”

  “I can make my own bed. I’m very self reliant,” Holder told him.

  “It’s a bit short for someone your size, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s the best bed I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “Interesting. Well, I’ll say goodnight, then. If you have any questions tonight, come ask me. I’m in the cabin around back. In the morning, I’ll teach you more about the proprieties over breakfast. Tomorrow you may address the adult women if you’re respectful, but don’t speak to Helena and the other girls. They’re young and don’t always have good sense.”

  “I’ll remember,” Holder assured him. Ignacio closed the door behind himself as he left.

  Grace walked to the soft chair opposite Sybille and slipped off her shoes. Her feet were small but not delicate or dainty – she had told Holder the truth about walking – and she folded her legs under herself as she settled into the chair. Her interest in Holder now pushed aside, her expression was serious.

  “Yonah, please bring Graice a cup of tea,” Sybille called out.

  “Right away,” replied a voice from the kitchen.

  “I can see that your meeting with the Patroness did not go as hoped,” Sybille said to Graice.

  “She wouldn’t promise a thing, Madrére,” Graice replied with a touch of petulance in her voice. Realizing her mistake, she corrected herself and smoothed her tone to a proper level. “Excuse me, please. For two hours, I listened to her harsh voice and got nothing but vapid generalities. ‘We have always cooperated,’ she said, and ‘My husband and I appreciate what you do,’ and ‘We understand your position’ – quack, quack, quack and then more quack. She never once mentioned the word donation.”

  Only the most expert of readers could have seen the amusement in Sybille’s face and Aura. “I’m sure Gildea will come through with something. She always has.”

  “I’m not so sure this time. She was extremely suspicious. I’m sure she knew it was me who was coming.”

  “That’s not surprising considering the number of people who’ve been watching us since we arrived in Matik. You’re certainly not difficult to identify,” said the Madrére. Then she looked up as a pleasant middle aged woman in a plain dress came from the kitchen and handed them cups of tea. “Thank you, Yonah. That will be all for the night.”

  “Goodnight Madrére, Sistére,” Yonah said as she left.

  “Let me tell you what happened when I got there,” Graice said to Sybille, getting back to the subject. “She did not greet me herself. A servant took me to a large dining hall they have. The room is very long.”

  “I was there once and remember the room.”

  “All the tables had been removed and I was given a chair pushed all the way against the back wall. The Patroness undoubtedly sat as far away as she could against the opposite wall, but I couldn’t see her. In front of me, a high wooden barrier had been built across the width of the room,” Graice explained. “Whenever I spoke, she paused a long time before responding. I suspect she had her ears plugged and made someone else listen to my words and then signal them to her.”

  “I expect you’re right. She’s heard something about you specifically and not just the Sistéria in general. I’m afraid our people have let things slip here and there and now the rumors fly everywhere – and the Patroness hears every rumor,” Sybille said. Then with a wry look she added, “I don’t suppose she offered to let you speak to her husband instead?” The question brought a smile to Graice’s serious face and a small laugh followed.

  “She most certainly did not! She made that clear before I even had a chance to inquire about his health. Clearly, I am never to be anywhere in the mansion when Edric is home, not even if we’re in separate rooms. I’m sure that armed guards are surrounding the Patron as we speak to keep me away.”

  “I’m not surprised, Graice. The Patroness is conniving and can be unfriendly, but she’s not stupid,” replied Sybille, now laughing herself. “I doubt you’re right about the guards, though. Considering the extent of your effect on ordinary men, how would guards stop you? It doesn’t matter, anyway. After you convinced Edric, he still would never be able to get Gildea to do something she didn’t want to.”

  “That’s true even when I’m not involved.”

  “Yes,” Sybille agreed. “Well, this development is a problem but we’ve overcome obstacles before.”

  “If we don’t get some help here in Matik, the rest of our trip will be impossible, won’t it?”

  “Let’s just say difficult.”

  “Speaking of the journey, that reminds me of something,” Graice said as she untied the ribbons which held her long hair in back. “In the morning, you must meet the man I brought here. He’s in the guest room.”

  “And where did you find this man?”

  “In the street,” Graice replied, trying hard not to say which one. Madrére Sybille’s eyes made it clear she had noticed the evasion. “All right,” the Sistére continued, “It was a bad street near the dockyards, but he clearly didn’t belong there. I’m certain of that. He’s poor and unemployed but very interesting. Oh, and he worked on caravans before this. He could be helpful to us.”

  “You brought him so we could hire him for the trip?”

  “To be honest I just thought of that now, but it does seem like a good idea to have an experienced man with us considering all the trouble eastward since the High Protector died. I really brought him here just because he’s so remarkable.”

  “Remarkable in what way?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “It’s late, Graice. Tell me now.”

  As she paused before speaking, Graice’s Aura displayed equal measures of surprise, fascination, and delight. “For one thing, Madrére, I have no effect on him.”

  “What? Be serious, Graice.”

  “I’m not joking. I tried and it didn’t work. You can judge for yourself tomorrow.” She stood and stretched as she spoke and glanced in the direction of her bedroom. Sybille did not try to hide her concern, letting Graice see it in the Madrére’s own Aura.

  “I will need to see more proof t
han just one brief episode on the street before I believe that. Some people can resist the suasions of most Sistéres, and I met a few some years ago who could even avoid my own. But it’s hard to believe that you have no effect at all on someone. If it’s true, he could be very dangerous, Graice. Why did you bring him here?”

  “To study him, of course. Well, goodnight, Madrére.” Halfway to the hall door, Graice looked back with a sly grin. “Don’t you want to know what causes his immunity to effect? After all, what if his condition is contagious?”

  Sybille was barely able to suppress her reaction until Graice was out of sight – and the Madrére was very good at hiding things – while the thought ‘yes, what if?’ ran roughshod through her mind. For a long time, as she had done every day for eighteen years, she sat and pondered what to do about the conundrum that was Graice. She had no new ideas.

  In the morning, the woman Yonah came to Ignacio’s cabin where Holder sat listening and said, “Please come with me.” She led him inside the back gate of the fence but not into the House itself. He followed her around a corner into a yard on the opposite side of the building from the guest room. It was a pleasant spot with manicured grass and many flowers. Bright sunshine gleamed down through the trees. Several chairs were arranged on the grass, and Graice and an older woman who wore a light blue robe sat in two of them. Holder walked straight to them and stood politely.

  “Holder, this is Madrére Sybille,” Graice told him. “We would like to talk to you, please.” Holder glanced from Graice to the other woman.

  “Sit down,” Sybille commanded.

  “I’m comfortable standing,” Holder replied.

  The two women exchanged quick but significant glances. Graice’s Aura clearly read ‘I told you so’ while Sybille silently admitted ‘perhaps you’re right’.

  “Actually, we would prefer if you sat,” Graice said to Holder. “You’re so tall that it’s difficult to look up at you.” Nodding to acknowledge the reasonableness of the request, Holder grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to them before sitting. Both women registered surprise at the movement, although not in any manner Holder could detect.

  “The Madrére is my Mentor, as well as many other things. I told her that you worked on caravans,” Graice said to fill time while she and Sybille both studied Holder. He wore the same brown work clothes as the night before, and his ragged dark hair appeared to have been trimmed by someone using sheep shears. The face was tanned but surprisingly unlined for someone who spent his time out of doors. At first glance, he appeared to be around thirty but something about him seemed older than he looked. His Aura shined as brightly as before with the auriculae still fluttering shades of green, but neither woman could glean anything significant about his thoughts from it. Then Graice looked at his eyes in the clear morning light. They weren’t just blue. They were deep, shining, crystalline jewels – brilliant pure sapphires of a hue impossible to describe in words.

  And those eyes were evaluating the two women just as they did him. The Madrére was taller than Graice but no more than average height for a woman, and around her blue robe she wore the same type of red sash as the Sistére. Sybille’s hair had traces of white in the darker gray and her light brown skin was a shade darker than Holder’s even though the Madrére had no noticeable suntan. She wasn’t overweight like some people her age, and even though her robe hid her physique and Holder had never seen her walk, he sensed toughness in her. Like Ignacio, she seemed to have the endurance of someone much younger. The Madrére wore an unobtrusive necklace, a simple gold chain with a star as a pendant. From a lump under the front of her robe, Holder suspected that Graice also wore a necklace of some sort hidden inside her clothes.

  Graice’s hair wasn’t tied this day and it flowed freely over her shoulders down almost to her tiny waist. Thinking of something he’d seen on his travels to compare to the color of her hair and eyes, Holder decided on obsidian, the volcanic glass that is pure black and yet sparkles in the sunlight. It was not a perfect comparison, of course, since obsidian is hard, cold, and has sharp edges – all of which were the exact opposite in texture from her hair and in warmth from her eyes.

  “You said I was a puzzle,” Holder said to Graice, meaning the night before. “I don’t know if that’s good.” He continued observing her. The dark shining eyes were almond shaped and tilted up at the corners. (Sybille’s eyes were interesting enough also, with green flecks showing in light brown irises, but no one would ever notice them while she sat next to the young Sistére.) Graice’s skin reminded Holder of the tan color of antique ivory he had seen in the market at Assari. In a city like Matik where skin pigmentation ranged from dark chocolát to pale alabaster, her tone still managed to be unique.

  “Puzzles aren’t bad, I assure you,” Graice replied. “I said you were interesting, too, and that’s definitely good. Well, to us at least.”

  “How am I interesting?”

  This time Madrére Sybille responded. “To be honest, we’re not sure. Please tell us about yourself. Start with where you come from.”

  “I was in Low Newk last before coming to Matik. Before then, I was in many other places.”

  “I meant where you were born,” responded Sybille.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Dimas said it wasn’t important.”

  “Who’s Dimas?” Graice asked.

  “My friend. He was very good to me. Dimas worked on the caravans too but not at the same job as me. He was too old to do much lifting and carrying, but he knew numbers and words, and owners liked him to keep books about how much money they had and what inventory they bought and sold. You know, things like that.”

  “I see,” replied the Madrére. “Maybe you don’t remember your birthplace because you moved soon after you were born. Tell us as much about your childhood as you can. What was it like where you grew up?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well then, what’s the first thing you can recall?” asked Graice.

  “Waking up in Catai.” When he saw their faces, he added, “It’s a small town in northwestern Amicitia, nearly all the way to Nordenio.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Dimas was with me. He took care of me and put bandages here,” Holder said as he touched the back of his head, “And also on my back where I had another wound. Then he told me what to do and where we should go. One day we met a caravan, and the boss needed a strong guy and a smart one. We’ve kept moving ever since.”

  “How long ago was this, Holder?”

  “Twelve years. Dimas kept up with the calendars.”

  “So you were an adult when you awoke?” Sybille asked.

  “The same as I am now. Except my head hurt and was shaven then. The hair grew later and Dimas told me how to take care of it.”

  Dimas must not have been a fashionable man, Sybille thought. “You really don’t remember anything before that day twelve years ago?”

  “That’s what I said,” he replied bluntly. He didn’t like for anyone to question answers he had already given.

  The women exchanged another glance and Grace continued. “After all the time you and Dimas journeyed with caravans, why did you leave your job?”

  “I didn’t. It left me,” he explained. “Dimas got sick and I had to take care of him. Rispoli left before I could go with them.”

  “Rispoli Trade was his last employer,” Graice explained to Sybille. Holder continued.

  “Yes. Captain Rispoli, the boss, was mad because I wouldn’t go, but I couldn’t leave Dimas. He was elderly and had weak lungs. He couldn’t stop coughing. Dimas was good to me. I had to take care of him.”

  “We understand,” Sybille replied, and then softly she added, “Your friend died, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Four days ago.” His face had a look of pain which could be seen in the ordinary way without being able to read his Aura. Both women exuded comfort and consolation, en
ough to cheer many bereaved loved ones at once, but Holder’s face remained unchanged. Neither had an effect on him even when trying to help!

  “Now you feel all alone in the world,” said Graice. It was a statement rather than a question, but no skill at all was needed to read his feelings. Anyone wandering in off the street would have seen it in his facial expression.

  “But surely you must have family somewhere. Don’t you remember anyone?” asked Sybille.

  “No.”

  “Didn’t Dimas tell you anything at all about them?”

  “He said they were all gone and I couldn’t go home.”

  “Where did he say home was, Holder?”

  “He said I couldn’t go there,” he re-explained.

  Graice and Sybille exchanged more than just a glance this time. They had much to contemplate and comprehend. Then the Madrére held up a hand and looked to one side.

  “Aceila, come here please,” she called out and a young girl appeared, not the same one who had brought blankets to the guest room but similar. “Behave, youngling,” Sybille said when she saw the way the girl stared at Holder. Unlike Helena when Ignacio had spoken to her the night before, Aceila snapped to attention instantly. “Go ask Yonah to make some of her special tea. Bring a full pot and three cups.”

  “Yes, Madrére,” answered the girl as she dashed away.

  “You girls inside, Helena and Caroletta,” Sybille continued. “Stop peeking out.”

  “Yes, Madrére,” two voices said in unison from the window behind Sybille’s chair.

  “Please have some tea with us, Holder,” she said to him. “It’s very rejuvenating and I think this conversation will take a while.”

  Later the two women sat together in thought while Holder returned to Ignacio’s cabin for lunch. After a considerable time, the Madrére spoke.

  “Well, I admit this is a remarkable case, Graice. How exactly did you find this man?”

  “I was beginning to lecture three rowdy drunks when he stepped between me and them. To protect me, he said.”

  “To protect you from intoxicated men? You?”

  “Yes, and he was serious so don’t ever let him see that you’re amused.”

  “I won’t,” Sybille replied. “Damaging his pride would not be helpful.”

  “He told me later that he’d seen Sistéres from a distance during his travels but he had never spoken to one before.”

  “Or talked about Sistéres with anyone else either, apparently.”

  “Correct,” said Graice. “But I’m small and those men were quite large and disreputable, and Holder simply misunderstood the threat. He has a good heart and his ignorance of us is understandable. Ignorance does not equate with lack of intelligence.”

  “You don’t have to repeat my own teachings to me, youngling,” Sybille replied with a smile.

  “If you call me a youngling, I’ll have to act like one,” Graice said as she stuck out her tongue.

  “Well, I certainly won’t hold his lack of knowledge against him. Besides, even if he did know about other Sistéres, he couldn’t have known about you, Graice.”

  “Seriously though, part of his job on the caravans was to be the night guard and he’s seen dangerous times as a result. The courage seems real and I think he is predisposed to protecting people.”

  “Something here runs considerably deeper than just a job he used to do, but Graice, you don’t believe we need a man to protect us, do you?”

  “Not from other men as he meant to last night but much has changed since Abbelôn fell. Who knows what we’ll run into or what type of help we’ll need?”

  “Yes, and even though I’m certain we’ll reach our destination, we should be prepared for anything,” Sybille said. Then she signaled ‘not yet’ in reply to Graice’s repeated unspoken question about the ultimate goal of the journey and changed the subject. “Do you think Holder was telling the truth about his memory loss?”

  Graice displayed a look of delight quickly replaced with mock regret. “I’m amazed! I just heard Madrére Sybille Sabidora herself imply that she could not tell for certain whether a man was lying or not! But if I say anything about that, no one will believe me.”

  “Calm your mischief, Sistére,” Sybille replied wryly. “Do you think I missed the fact that you said his courage seems real rather than is real? Not certain yourself, are you?”

  “The fact that we both are making these admissions is extraordinary in itself, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “I do think he’s truthful, however,” said Graice. “Not because of any skill at reading, just because of his direct and open manner. Any woman in the world would believe him.”

  “But some men are adept at seeming serious when they are not.”

  “Enough to fool the two of us?”

  “Graice, the answer to that question was much clearer to me before he remained standing when I told him to sit.”

  “I understand your point. The same thing happened when I told him to move last night.”

  “Hmm. Well, I agree with you about his truthfulness,” Sybille said. “I don’t think he remembers anything before suffering a head injury, just as he said. Remind me to ask Ignacio to find out exactly where this Catai place is.”

  “Do you have a guess about who he might be?” Graice asked.

  “I have no knowledge of that and guesses without knowledge are less than worthless.”

  “Madrére, we may be able to help him recover memories.”

  “You mean that you might help, not we.”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” Graice said. “I can do it.”

  “You’ve only done such things in controlled situations with willing participants and not with anyone remotely like Holder.”

  “But you know that I’ve accomplished things no one else could.”

  With a sigh, Sybille nodded to admit that much. “But even so Graice, if the brain tissue itself is physically damaged, you can’t help him.”

  “Perhaps the memories aren’t lost but just blocked and can’t get out. I could look for another path, a link to bring his memories into his conscious mind. And it seems likely that the visible injury is not the only problem. There are many types of trouble which I can resolve.”

  Sybille inhaled a breath and held it for a moment. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Graice, you are much too important to . . .”

  “Please stop!” Graice snapped. “I’m so tired of hearing that I’m special. If I really am, then I should do something special!” They both sat still for several long moments as Sybille met Graice’s gaze. The Madrére broke eye contact first and sighed more loudly this time.

  “I am not saying that I agree with this, Graice, so don’t think that I do,” Sybille insisted. “But before any other factors are considered, he must become a willing volunteer. I don’t think that will happen until he knows you better and trusts you.”

  “Meaning we need to keep him with us until that happens,” Graice stated and Sybille nodded. “Well, we agree about that anyway.”

  “Yes,” said Sybille, and a soft knock came from the closed door. “Come,” she said and the girl Aceila entered.

  “A lady came to the gate and told me to give this to you, Madrére,” she said as she held up a small cloth sack. “She said it’s from Patroness Gildea.”

  “Won’t the woman come in and present it herself?” Sybille asked.

  “No, Madrére. In fact, she hurried away.”

  Graice rolled her eyes and said, “It’s me obviously. I’m such a mean and dangerous person that she ran away.”

  “Excuse me, Sistére?” said the confused girl.

  “Ignore her, Aceila,” Sybille told her. “Graice thinks she’s funny. Hand me the sack and you may go.”

  As the girl left, Sybille held up the little bag for Graice to see.

  “Even without opening it, the size itself makes something clear, doesn’t it?” Graice said.

  “Y
es, indeed.”

  Regardless of the denomination of the coins inside, this bag could not possibly hold as much as they needed.