Yet in the second reality, she saw herself in an orange cloak, chipping away at the Darkness with a knife like a blazing sun.
“ A choice will have been made,” someone spoke in her head in Matijas sickly, rasping voice, “and each choice will have had its price ”, and Vivian finally understood the difficulty of her choice; finally understood why Blind Irra had seen so much darkness in her Thread; why the Guild of Weavers had branded her power over odds a liability to the multiverse. A Weaver of odds would always leave behind discarded choices; a Weaver of odds would always create multiple realities within one’s own.
Once more rang Aniya’s voice, from the reality where Vivian had chosen to run away from home... and the Manor had never caught fire. It was a reality where neither Ærria, nor the Trial of Fears, nor her foray into Tylorria – into Subexistence – had ever come to pass.
And yet, Vivian knew her parents could only be alive in a reality where she had never mastered Weaving…
‘Sweetie, what’s wrong? Do you not wish to see us? To be a family again?’ cried Aniya, and Vivian felt her heard breaking into a squillion pieces, as bitter tears knotted into her chin, falling onto her Æbe’trax shard. ‘Vivian, we’re sorry! Please forgive us, forgive us...’
...but she needed to have mastered Weaving to save current reality...
Vivian sunk into herself, torn between wanting to join the people she had long lost – the people who were so desperately calling her from a reality one step away from her own – and stopping a madman from destroying the reality present.
“ It takes a shattering emotional trauma for one to learn the true meaning of responsibility; who we are and what we are meant to do in this life ” Brother Haral’s voice reached her from beyond the branching paths of Subexistence. “ For a Weaver to be made, they need to be un-made, in the deepest, truest form of being. ”
‘Vivian, please come home! Mommy loves you— sweetie, we love you! Vivian! VIVIAN!’
Shaking like a leaf in the wind, Vivian wiped her tears on the back of her hand, and with her last bit of willpower, she turned her back on her pleading mother.
And as though someone had read into her decision, Vivian’s 24-sided Kiscube materialized before her eyes. Vivian caught it in her open fist and the reality of her parents dissolved into nothing.
The universe of the Subexistence slowly began to change. She was now floating across a field of bright stars peppered with dark, widening holes, and from within those holes rose a cloud of darkness so deep, so penetrating, it seemed to be absorbing the very substance of things. Something about that Darkness gave Vivian goosebumps, for it feasted on Kaalà, and primary Threads, and the very soul of creation.
It was as though Chaos had a mind, greater and mightier than her own, and that terrible mind reached out from across the fabric of the multiverse, conversing without speaking, feeling without touching, following her, always on Vivian’s zigzagging trail.
Clutching her Agi Blade to her chest like an orange bonfire, like a token of hope, Vivian closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken by Chaos, and like a veil of solid shadow, the Æbekanta trapped Vivian in its midsts.
She opened her eyes. The Subexistence no longer presented her with two choices, but a whole series of them. She was no longer floating aimlessly in open space, but standing in a building made of solidified vapour. Vivian found herself walking along a corridor with numbered doors on each side, and from behind each door chimed Ashlar’s world-breaking laughter.
‘Where are you?’ she called, holding her Agi Blade in front of her like a guiding beacon. ‘Show yourself!’
But there were simply too many doors, each of which opening in a new corridor of yet more identical doors. Instinctly, she reached for the door flagged “23” only to find herself along an interminable hallway, where the numbered doors seemed to trail away to infinity.
Ashlar’s gurgling laughter tantalizingly crept from beyond the infinity of choices, making reality shudder and shake, and Vivian suddenly felt lost, for the odds of finding the right door and the right corridor were astronomical—
The odds! , thought Vivian , letting the polyhedral die roll out of her hand and across the many-branching paths of the Subexistence with odds-defying deliberation.
“ 10 ”: showed the Kiscube, and Vivian entered the tenth door on her right, only to find herself in another interminable hallway. Her heart beating in her chest like a hammer, she rolled the die once more, and the Kiscube returned a “ 6 ”, so she entered through the sixth door, without questioning the mind of utter chaos, the logic of complete randomness.
Once again, Vivian rolled her many-faced die, and the number on its front became her path, guiding her along the endless branches of reality towards – hopefully – the man in the mask; the man she had to stop at the cost of the multiverse. “13” showed the Kiscube, and Vivian entered through the thirteenth door unquestioningly, navigating her way through the confusing labyrinth. Again she rolled the die, each time taking her deeper and deeper into Subexistence, and again, and again, the thought of finding Ashlar bubbling at the surface of her mind, until—
In a swirl of black, her feet left the ground. A gauntleted hand enclosed around her neck, and Vivian found herself looking into a face full of gold.
‘You burn with a black wick, Vivian,’ said Ashlar, his grip of her neck strengthening even more. ‘Visceral and vivid, in a bluebell flame.’
Her Agi Blade tumbled out of her slackening hand, and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
‘N-no,’ she choked.
Her feet kicked aimlessly at the man she could not hurt, for it was like kicking against a carcass long dead. And Vivian fought for air, her eyes rolling upwards, the image before her, darkening—
‘Never fear death... and the eternal sleep,’ whispered Ashlar, his masked face within an inch of her own, the Tear of the Goddess shining on his forehead like liquid light. ‘In the face of true agony, the greatest enemy is yourself.’
There was an outburst of light as a million identical doors sprang open and Vivian’s feet found solid ground. In a blur of luminescent orange moving against the black the tear-shaped crystal tore away from Ashlar’s golden forehead, and in sparkling slow-motion, fell through one of the countless open doorways, away from Ashlar’s grasp.
‘NO!’ roared the Gold Mask Man, his hands stretched hopelessly towards the stone he had now lost, not only through space, but through time. ‘YOU LOST ME MY ONLY CHANCE! MY FINAL DESTINY!’
‘And what delightful destiny would that be, then?’ Vivian’s defiant voice echoed across Subexistence. ‘To destroy the Pattern? To destroy reality?’
‘ARGH!’
Ashlar lunged and Vivian’s grip of the knife tightened, every bit of inner will bent on banishing the masked man away. She fenced forward, feeling the reality-changing Kaalà travelling across her chest, down her feeble arm and into the glowing shard of Æbe’trax in her hand.
BOOM . A roaring sound like an erupting volcano sent Vivian soaring. Dominus Ashlar was lifted off his feet, and like a great tower of darkness, fell backwards though one of the many nameless doors and choices of reality, his gautleted hands flying aimlessly, his mask of gold disappearing beneath the shroud of bright light.
It was like the sudden coming alive of everything: the fabric of space recrystallized, Time resumed its course, and the Pentahedron burst into ear-splitting applause, the sound of their last cheer still etched onto their parted lips.
The Weaver of Ways
‘We can... we can go home?’ asked Kate and Vivian nodded.
‘You two are fine,’ said Lady Saah, pointing at Kate and Acciper. ‘ Him , I want to keep another resting.’
‘I’m – hee-haw – I’m fine, Lady Saah,’ said Lucian Blossom, sitting upright in bed. ‘Honestly!’
‘Fine? You’ve got some mighty fine ears, dear. It’s your braying I’m more worried about,’ argued Lady Saah, pushing Lucian down and forcing the covers on him, while Vivian and Acciper burst into boisterous laughter.
‘Shut up, you two,’ hissed Kate, though she looked like she too was holding back a smile, with her fingers planted into her sides. She looked genuinely concerned. ‘Lucian is going to be okay, right?’
‘Oh, my dear. Life is just alchemy. Everything alters into something else. A bit of healing broth here, a good tonic there, and you live to see another resting.’
‘So you’re saying he – Lucian – will live?’
‘Of course, dear. Of course,’ Lady Saah assured her. ‘Nothing a good tincture can’t fix.’
‘Good, good. Because it’s... my fault Lucian—’
‘—made a – hee-haw – of himself?’ said Lucian, and he finally joined in on their laughter. It was, after all, good to laugh again after the events of last week. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Kate. You saved my life. For all I know, if you haven’t – hee-haw – forced me into a disguise, the army of the north might’ve taken me too.’
Kate returned Lucian a coquettish smile, before pulling him forward by his long ears and giving him a vigorous cuddle.
‘Ow! Better not – hee-haw – come too close, Kate. Might be contagious.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Kate, cathing Vivian’s eye.
‘Speaking of taken, any news of Daimey?’ Vivian asked, scooping Kaap off the floor and placing him on her lap.
Acciper, who had merely just suffered a few minor scratches, sat down on the windowsill, his knees to his chest, his steel-hazel eyes on the horizon.
‘Garlaan sent scout party after regent,’ he confessed. ‘Hasn’t returned yet, but I sent Shéy.’
Kate frowned. ‘Who’s running the Queendom now, though?’
‘Bast,’ said Acciper simply. ‘He’s king interim till Queen Alaria and her consort Vishnu return from Inkshia.’
‘When would that be, Ace?’ said Vivian, looking interested.
‘Three long waitings from now. Next season, at most.’
Vivian shook her fists, making Kaap jump aside. ‘I don’t get them. I really don’t. First Sunya vin Gar, their missing daughter, returns from Existence and they don’t bother to come back—‘
‘Thought you preferred Vivian ,’ Acciper folded his arms, giving her a stern look.
‘That’s not the point,’ Vivian scowled. ‘Where were they when I got entered in the most dangerous competition of my life? When a warmonger waged war on their Queendom; when the daughter they love, heir to the Garlaan Seat, was taken; when the daughter they scorned and locked in a tower saved reality – where were they ?’
‘I know, Viv, but they’re... they’re still your parents,’ said Kate.
‘My parents died when I made that choice,’ said Vivian through gritted teeth. ‘When I was in Subexistence, I had a clear shot at happiness – at getting my old life back – and I chose to walk away. Whatever Alaria and Vishnu are doing in Inkshia, it can never be more important than being here when I needed them most.’
‘My dears, what you need to understand is that a Queen’s duty to her Queendom comes first, and to her children last. Cruel, I know—’ she quickly added, when Vivian had opened her mouth to argue, ’—but so are things around our parts. Yet know this: your sacrifice, what you have done, all of you, is no less worthy of praise.’
The room was shrouded in silence, and for a while the only noise was that of Kaap’s cooing by the fireplace. The Artisan went on.
‘Now, I may not be a Queen, but I understand all the same that you have saved us all from a terrible fate. You have proven yourselves to me, to the realm, to the people of this world. A day may come when all hope is lost; when the oceans run red with our blood, and our darkest hour is upon us—’, her magnificent quicksilver eyes rested upon Vivian in particular, ‘—and when it comes, that red day of reckoning, we turn, my dears, not to our rulers-in-good-times, but to our leaders-in-bad-times.’
Vivian sketched the shadow of a smile, wondering how Lady Saah knew exactly what to say to cheer her up.
‘Now, enough brooding,’ said Lady Saah in a no-nonsense tone of voice. ’Shouldn’t you be somewhere?’
They wished Lucian Blossom a hasty recovery (“See you guys – hee-haw –soon!”) and left the Artisan’s impromptu Haijk, down the winding staircase and into the sacred forests of Arc Luteus.
The funeral pyres had already been set, and for a long while Vivian, Kate and Acciper watched the smoke of a hundred burned bodies clouding the skies of Orange Noon.
Ærinna, Brother Haral and over a dozen other Weavers who lived through the great massacre of Arc Luteus had gathered around the burning pyres with whispering roses in hand. Sii Mar’sii, the School of Thought’s schoolmistress, together with lectors, trainers and staff members from the floating citadel, had rounded up their students to pay their last respects to the dead Weavers. On the outskirts of the clearing, Vivian spotted Ann’Ka, Eerik, Luus and some of the other participants in the Weaver Trials, throwing light-giving blooms into the funeral fires, their expression worn by sadness and grief.
Vivian didn’t dare admit to the others, but she had mixed feelings about attending the funeral pyres. How could she just stand there and watch the Weavers turn to dust, knowing she could have saved them? On the other hand, how could she feign grief, knowing the Guild had once voted her unwiring?
‘You two go ahead,’ Vivian said to Kate and Acciper, both of whom were carrying whispering roses. ‘I’ll – I’ll catch up soon.’
‘Flatulent Ferret, brown noon?’Acciper winked.
‘Brown noon,’ repeated Vivian, holding back a laugh. ‘Till later, then!’
With the Shadowhide cloak safely wrapped around her, Vivian carried her feet along the path to urb Lantana, wanting to feast her eyes on its Alarian marvels until she would have memorized its every building, alley and nook. And though she knew she would be going home to Milton Keynes, Vivian thought of nothing but her return to Ærria.
Alone as she was, she felt at ease, thinking of her belonging to this strange world of orange and amber. She closed her eyes, listening to the insects sleeping underneath the polished stones, and the susurration of birds animatedly singing their cheerful trills, and thought how lucky she was to even have this moment, when all of creation could have been lost. And the sound of her steps bohemianly hitting the cobblestone was interrupted only by the Hole-in-the-Wall’s inner thoughts, flowing towards her like a murmuring creek.
‘Kaap a bit scared,’ said a squeaky voice in her mind. ‘If Vivian wrong and Kaap screw up— if Kaap cannot bring Vivian home—’
‘You can, Kaap. Better even, you will , ’ she gave her travelling cloak a soothing stroke. “ You may only progress when you leave the place of beginning. ”
‘Not fair. Vivian repeating Kaap words!’ said Kaap, making Vivian’s cloak turn a coral pink. ‘Kaap sad, though, because Kaap could have brought Vivian home all along, just– just– Kaap never knew the way.’
‘Neither of us knew the way, Kaap. We found one another in a moment of need,’ said Vivian. ’Such was the power of our journey together that in the end we found more than a way home. We found purpose. Five Alarian months ago, who would have thought I’d turn out to be a Weaver of Odds, and you, a Weaver of Ways?’ she said through a smile.
‘Not Kaap. But Kaap always said, it is often journey that teaches us purpose, more than destination self.’
‘Well said, Kaap. Well said,’ she nodded approvingly, putting one foot in front of the other along the narrowing alley. ‘Speaking of destinations, just wait until you see the Flatulent Ferret!’
*
‘Cor, where on earth are these two?’ said Vivian, checking her new Trigl
as every other heartbeat. ‘I told them – I said, Blue Morn. Blue!’ she tapped the second compartment of the triple-hourglass, where the sand had already taken an orange tint. ’I can’t believe them. I simple can’t!’
‘Relax. Friends be here soon,’ said Acciper in open nonchalance, scratching Shéy with a finger stained by coal and by metal.
‘Sure, after keeping everyone in Palas Lumina waiting,’ said Vivian, giving the room full of people a nervous look. ’Kate’s probably on a quest to find more extravagant dresses, and Lucian – he’s probably fitting wheels on the Record Room. Never known anyone who liked reading so much.’
‘You sure you’ll be safe there?’ asked Bastijaan, his large blue eyes mirroring Vivian. ‘You sure the humans will treat you well?’
‘I’m sure. Besides, I’ll only be gone for ten days.’
‘But that’s two hundred and fifty restings – a whole leap !’ said Bastijaan, looking melancholic. ‘Mother and Father should be here by then. They’d want to meet you – offer their thanks—’
‘I’ll be back. Take care of yourself, brother,’ said Vivian, pulling Bastijaan into a constricting hug, before turning to Acciper Sparrowhawk. ‘You too, Caprice.’
‘Caprice?’ Acciper frowned.
‘Yeah, I… I only just remembered– there is an anagram in your name,’ said Vivian through a sheepish smile. ‘Everything to do with you being a stubborn, unruly, wild—‘
‘Say no more, say no more,’ Acciper laughed. ‘Take care, Vivian.’
‘You too, Ace,’ she said, leaning forward with her arms open wide, only to find herself rugby-tackled by Acciper, who grabbed her sideways and pressed his forehead against hers. ‘What the—’
‘You Alarian now. You must hug like Alarians,’ he said with a small wink, making Vivian turn burgundy from nose to ears.
‘See you soon, dear,’ said Lady Saah, smothering her into a tight embrace that Vivian found difficult to part with.
At that exact moment, the crowds split in two revealing a satchel-carrying Kate and a Lucian with his hands in his pocket.
Vivian Amberville - The Weaver of Odds Page 40
