“I know.” Tears trickled down my cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you.”
He smiled weakly, his face pale.
“You did–” His voice caught. “You did what you had to do.”
“Please!” I screamed frantically.
Why are you calling for help? Wynne asked, in a corner of my mind. This is only a dream, you know.
“Not just a dream,” I whispered fiercely. “It’s not a dream at all.”
I looked at Will, at his shining eyes and pale, clammy face, his whitening hands, and thought fiercely: This must not be!
So change it, she said. You have the power, you know.
I reached out my hand, and the necklace appeared.
Wynne whispered softly: And now you understand.
The ruby glowed red as fire, and the Guardians, connected in a long chain, gleamed like stars. Their heat burned my skin. Gritting my teeth, I pressed the blazing gems against the ugly gash in Will’s chest. There was a pause, as though they had to consider this, and accept it. A flicker of agreement; the ruby pulsed. Then the necklace slowly disappeared, sinking into the emptiness of that terrible wound.
For a moment, the world seemed to pause: no sound, no movement anywhere.
Then, from his chest came a scarlet blaze, brighter than blood. The light expanded, piercing Will through and through, until he seemed to burn like fire; until the glow was so intense I could no longer bear to look.
There came a distant rumble, at first barely audible, but growing ever stronger. Then, with an almighty bang, the earth shook. I held onto Will like he was the only solid thing in the world. People ran screaming from the arena; the Emperor and his soldiers fled, leaving only Will and I as the sand rocked and heaved about us.
It seemed to last forever. It took no time at all.
When the world calmed, I raised my head. There in my arms lay Will. His blue eyes smiled and I bent and kissed him. His mouth tasted of metal and earth. About his neck was the necklace; but now the ruby glowed dull red and the wound on his chest had healed and the only sign of injury was the blood-spattered arena.
“Thank you,” he whispered faintly.
“It’s nothing.”
He wiped a tear from my face. “Are you really here?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re dreaming then.”
I nodded. “Come and find me.”
He struggled upright. “He,” Will glanced at the imperial box, “he wanted me to marry her.”
“Her? Mai-Long?”
He nodded. “I said no. That made him angry. And then I was angry in turn, and refused to play along.” He half-grinned at me. “Did you not recognize the battle?”
“The what?”
“Mai-Long and I.” He glanced sideways. “I was playing the Kamaye. And she was being you.” Will laughed weakly, a flash of his old self. “That’s the story they tell here. That the Kamaye killed the Eternal, and in revenge the Bright One – that’s you, Dana – killed the Kamaye.”
“I have a name?”
“Better than a name.” He winced as I helped him to his feet. “You have a title.”
We shuffled from the arena, Will and I, his arm about my shoulders, leaning heavily on me. I had forgotten how tall he was.
“You saved my life,” he said, wonderingly. “Although you’re not really here.”
I shrugged.
“Well, thank you.”
“You will come to me?” I felt suddenly anxious: what if he said no?
He looked over his shoulder, at the stricken face of Mai-Long, and the awestruck faces of the guards. “Of course. I can’t see them stopping me now.”
I breathed out, relieved. “Then I’ll leave you a guide.”
I pulled the necklace over his head. Gently I cradled it in my hand, calling to the souls I knew. I stripped five beads from it. They would not mind – after all, they liked to travel. Gently, I shaped the five glowing glass soul-beads into a bracelet. Suzanna and Rob. Phileas. Adianna. And Wynne.
“Bring him home safely,” I whispered and put the bracelet over his hand. It settled about his wrist like it belonged there.
Will looked at it in amazement, his face reflected in every bright bead, then, glancing over my shoulder, he frowned. Behind me stood TeSin, staring. His face was ashen; he looked as though he’d seen a ghost. I straightened, aware of the bulk about my waist, and felt a brief surprise that Will had not noticed my expanded stomach. Although I suppose he had other things on his mind.
“You will let him go,” I said to TeSin. “You will not try to harm him, or prevent him leaving. You will thank him for his assistance and for all he has done for you.”
TeSin lowered his eyes.
“And if you ever threaten me or mine again,” – I set my palm against his chest, felt the alarmed beating of his heart – “I will rip your heart from your body.”
I pushed against the muscle and bone and my dream hand sank into his chest cavity like a knife through butter. TeSin’s eyes bulged in horror.
“Do you understand me? Nod, if you understand.”
He swallowed, and nodded.
I slid my hand from his chest. “I gave you back your life,” I said. “You should be grateful.”
He cleared his throat. “I … I am.”
Mai-Long clearly didn’t see me, for she came to stand beside TeSin, and put her hand on his arm, as though she had the right to touch the Emperor. Of course she touches him, I thought suddenly. They are lovers. And probably this was the reason why he wanted Mai-Long to marry Will – to remove the risk of any of her children claiming the throne. After all, no emperor would risk heirs from a low-born woman.
I whispered in his ear. “If you make her Empress, you will be dead by year’s end. As soon as you get her with child, your life is forfeit.” TeSin’s face was expressionless, but at my words his breath came faster.
“My Lord?” Mai-Long’s voice was caressing, kind. Caring.
I returned to Will, and he put his arm about my shoulder. The crowd parted to let him through. I put the necklace about my neck. It settled with a sigh, the ruby warm and surprisingly light.
I could feel the change; my body was waking. “I must go.”
He shook his head. “No. Don’t.”
“You can find me.” I held his hand in mine, stroked the bright glass beads about his wrist. “They will help you.”
He looked at them doubtfully.
I put his hand on my stomach. “You can find us.”
His eyes widened in shock.
On cue, the baby kicked. Will jerked his hand back, stared at my belly in sudden realization. Bright-eyed, he smiled. “Watch for me. I may take a while.”
“It is a long way. But I will be there.” I kissed his cheek, then his mouth. He still tasted of blood. “I will be waiting.”
And then the light shone into the room and it was morning.
I lay, smiling at the sunrise until Nurse arrived and handed me an evil-smelling tea.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Homeward
The day after the tournament, Will started home. He wrapped his gear in a rucksack, and took with him for payment two fast horses from the royal stables. The grooms appeared pleased to see him, but they were even happier to see him leave. Doubtless, someone who had returned from the dead left others uncomfortable.
The beads about the wrist wasted no time in speaking to him. At first he found them irritating, especially Phileas, who insisted on singing at the oddest moments. Will had never been one for music. His favorite was Rob, because being a craftsman, Rob seemed to understand Will’s passion for creating food.
At first the way was familiar and the roads, newly repaired, made travel easy enough. He swapped horses every few hours and the miles fell behind. But as the days passed the roads grew rougher, until eventually, on the far side of the mountains, they were little more than rocky tracks.
When I get home (he no long
er felt surprise that he called the kingdom thus), I will never travel again. Done more than enough for one lifetime.
After a month on the road he began to encounter small signs: a broken tree branch, a charred fireplace. There was a traveler, just ahead of him, going in the same direction.
“Should I try and catch him?” He’d gotten into the habit of speaking aloud.
A pause, then Adianna replied, “We think so. Yes.”
Wynne added, “if he meant to do you harm, he might have done so by now.”
“He may not even know I’m here,” Will pointed out. “I’m behind him, after all.”
“Oh, we think he’s aware of you,” Wynne said. “Those signs,” – she pointed to two birds arguing over a piece of dried apple – “such leavings are not accidental. I think he means you to find him.”
“Aye,” said Will. “And that’s what worries me.”
That night he slept in the hollow of a dead tree and did not light a fire.
* * *
It took three days to catch the mystery traveler; and that was three days of hard riding, so whoever this person was, he surely was fleet of foot. “Reckon he’s winged,” Will said, on that third afternoon. “Either that, or he’s unnatural.”
The beads said nothing.
Finally, after cresting a ridge, the horses pricked their ears and their nostrils flared. In the valley, beside a fast-running stream, stood a figure in black. The traveler wore a hooded cloak and black boots, a bow across his shoulders. Something about him seemed familiar.
“Hey! Hey there!” Will waved. The figure watched alertly, but made no move for his bow, so Will called out: “I mean you no harm. How can you travel so fast? I’ve been following you for near to three days. Are you winged? What is your secret?”
Even if he doesn’t understand my language, he thought, he will understand my tone, and my tone is light, and I’m friendly and I would like for him to be friendly in reply.
The figure put back her hood, and smiled. “So many questions. Will you allow me to answer?” There stood N’Tombe, gray-blue eyes alert and laughing. Bright light danced about her like a nimbus.
Will stared, and could not speak.
“Dear Will,” she said fondly. “How you have grown. Well? Haven’t you got anything to say?”
Laughing, crying, he ran down the hill, jumped the stream and hugged her. “Is it you? Is it really you?”
She laughed out loud. “I believe so. Yes. I believe it is.”
He twirled her in a circle, around and around, until the forest seemed to spin about them; until the sun’s rays turned to fire. “You’re alive!” he said. “You’re alive!”
“Put me down,” she said. “Will! Let me go!”
That night, just like old times, they sat around a bonfire, talking.
“I returned home,” N’tombe said. “But …” glancing at the flames, she paused. An owl hooted; wind sighed in the trees. Will waited for her to return from wherever her mind had gone.
After a time she glanced at him and smiled sadly. “My aunt. She had passed.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She wiped her eyes. “A dreadful sickness, so they said, killing men and women. It began with a cough, like a cold, but then they began bleeding. Folk who were well in the morning were dead by afternoon. From far away, I felt it; a wave of death. By the time I reached the village, I was too late. I called,” she shuddered. “Oh, how I called.”
Will took her hand. Her tears trickled onto his knuckles. For a time they sat, just listening to the forest.
“I found her name carved on a piece of wood, planted at the head of a mound of earth.” She wiped at her tears impatiently. “I stayed a while, but finally I realized – there was nothing for me there. So I decided to return.” She sniffed. “The doors between worlds are rare, and those that exist are hidden. But at last, after a long search, I found a route. I followed it and here I am.” Feeding a stick to the flames, she glanced briefly at Will. “It is good to see you again.”
They sat in silence for a time, until she stirred and asked: “So. Tell me – what have you been up to?”
Briefly, he explained that TeSin, having been made Emperor, had made Will his second in command.
“So why are you leaving?”
“Because,” Will said tightly, “the Emperor cannot be trusted.”
“Why? What happened?”
“At first, I didn’t recognize it.” Will was surprised at the resentment in his voice. Surely, he thought, I wasn’t that hurt. But looking back, he supposed he had been; after all, he and TeSin had spent so much time together that they had come to trust each other. Or so he had thought. “TeSin changed. He and Mai-Long were always together. At first I thought he was being friendly; that he was teaching her to fight.”
“And he wasn’t?”
The fire danced brightly. “I suppose I should have realized. But she was so much younger than him.”
“Were you jealous? Of TeSin?”
“Me? No!” he said, horrified.
She put a hand on his arm. “Go on.”
He shrugged. “After a time, it became obvious, even to me. They were always together. She sat beside him to dine, took food from his platter.”
“Even that?”
He nodded. Suddenly, he realized how much tension he had been under. Familiar faces at court had disappeared with no warning. No one knew what had happened to them, but it was rumored Mai-Long had done away with them. The bottle cells, it was whispered, were full again. “People became wary. Looked over their shoulders. It was hard to know who to trust.”
“And you left.”
“Eventually.” He pushed a stick into the flames and the sparks shot upward, mingling with the stars. “But it took me a good long time. It’s as though you become used to things being as they are. You know? Little by little, there’s small changes, and you tell yourself oh, it wasn’t that bad. That you’re imagining it. That things will improve.” He shook his head. “Anyway. But when he asked me to marry her – I should have left then. Still, I stayed.” He brooded at the flames. “I was a fool. If it hadn’t been for Dana –”
“Dana?”
He nodded, explained how Dana had saved him. “She gave me these.” He held up his wrist and the beads gleamed in the flames.
She smiled. “Well. Now, they look familiar.”
He made a face. “They are very talkative.” He ignored the brief sting at his wrist.
N’tombe yawned. “Tell me tomorrow.” She eyed his spare horse. “Can I ride her?”
Will smiled. “Of course.” It felt like old times.
Next morning, watching N’tombe struggle with her stirrups, he thought: and some things have not changed at all.
Chapter Thirty
A Shining Light
She came at midnight, my daughter, arriving into the world in a burst of angry crying. I named her Evalina.
“A midnight baby,” said old Nurse fondly. “Just like the Christ-child. Aren’t you, my precious?”
Evalina’s mouth opened in a tiny yawn that held me captivated. She ignored Nurse’s finger beneath her chin. A sensible child, this.
She was perfect. Ten tiny fingers, each topped by soft-curled fingernails, soft downy hair and bright eyes that stared solemnly out at the world. When she slept I watched her for hours, and when she woke I cradled her in my arms and thought again how fortunate I was.
Only Nurse, Rosa, and my parents visited me during the first week. Nurse allowed no one else near, partly, she said, to keep the child from illness, and partly, I think, to keep my baby all to herself. I slept on and off, waking to find them in my room, the lamp burning low and them huddled about the cradle like the magi and the shepherds.
* * *
Evie, as soon as you cried Nurse was there, and the moment I finished feeding you, her arms took you from me. Sometimes I felt annoyed at her for stealing you, my baby.
* * *
After
a few weeks, Nurse allowed me to sit quietly in Mother’s solar. “After all,” she said, as though in excuse, “sunlight is good for babies.” She called for a guard to help carry Evie carefully down the stairs.
Many people watched us walk across to the solar; it seemed like half the castle was at the windows or in the courtyard. All eyes were on Evie. Whispers rustled about the courtyard as I crossed the keep.
“There was speculation,” Mother said later.
I knew what she meant. Everyone wondered about the father.
Jed, looking strangely out of place in Mother’s solar, braved the laughter of the women to see us.
“She’s beautiful.” He stroked your soft cheek.
“Thank you.”
He looked at me strangely. “Have you not noticed?”
“Noticed what?” Beside this weatherworn man, my baby appeared ridiculously fragile. It would take nothing at all to damage her. I pulled Evie away from him.
“It’s all right,” Jed’s voice was soft. “I won’t hurt her. I only want to show you something.”
“Dana,” Mother said gently. “Let him.”
Reluctantly, I handed him my precious, perfect baby. “You hold the head so,” I said, and showed him.
The women smiled behind their fans, and for once I did not blame them, for it was indeed a comical sight, to see this tall man holding a child so inexpertly. The corner of his mouth lifted, as though he understood why they laughed.
“Princess,” he said softly. “Come with me.” Turning, he stepped into a small antechamber.
I lurched after him. “Bring her back!”
Still carrying my baby, Jed pulled the velvet curtains closed. “Look!”
“Give her to me.”
He fended me off easily. I was weak; I hated this, and scowled at him.
“Sorry, Princess,” he said. “But look.”
* * *
With the curtains drawn, the room was plunged into darkness and the corners of the room were impossible to see. But I could see Jed’s face and arms clearly in the darkness because Evie glowed with a gentle radiance. She was like a lamp or a freshly lit fire.
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