But all of this is not the thing that takes my breath.
No. That claim belongs to the lush island before us.
It shimmers in the water, a mirage of beauty and serenity. A small harbor lies not far from the boat, and from its banks the island rises in a gentle slope. Toward the top of the island and in the distance, I can make out a smattering of buildings, but they are too far away to decipher clearly.
Most beautiful of all, though, are the trees. Even from the water, I see that the island is dotted with apple trees, the crimson fruit a flurry of exclamation points amid the lavish green of the trees and grass that seems to cover the island.
“Oh… It’s lovely!” It seems too small a word to describe what is in front of me, but it is all I have in this moment.
Dimitri smiles down at me. “It is, isn’t it?” He looks back at it. “I never stop being awed by it.”
I look up at him. “Is it real?”
He chuckles. “It is not on any conventional map, if that’s what you mean. But it is here, hidden by the mists and present to those among the Sisterhood, the Grigori, and those who serve them.”
“Well, I should like to see it up close,” Luisa says.
Edmund nods. “Miss Milthorpe needs sleep and Miss Sorrensen needs… well, Miss Sorrensen needs assistance.” We all look at Sonia, now staring almost angrily at Altus. Edmund looks back to Dimitri. “The sooner the better.”
Dimitri tips his head at the robed woman who made Altus appear. She moves back to her position at the front of the boat and picks up her oars as the woman at the rear does the same.
I take my seat, watching the water as it moves beneath the boat. As it takes me closer and closer to the island that harbors answers to the questions I am still learning to ask.
20
I am surprised to find several figures waiting when we disembark from the boat. Like our traveling companions, they are robed in deepest purple and lined up on the dock. I know from their fine features that they are all women. They seem to be waiting for us with some ceremony.
Edmund steps off with Sonia first, followed by Luisa. I wait with Dimitri, disembarking before him. When he introduces me as Amalia Milthorpe, Lady Abigail’s great-niece, the women bow formally in my direction, but naked suspicion and perhaps even resentment is evident in their eyes.
Once the rest of our party is properly introduced, Dimitri goes to the women, greeting each of them personally in low murmurs. Finally he reaches the woman at the head of the line. She is older, perhaps even older than Aunt Virginia, but when she pulls back the hood of her robe to kiss Dimitri’s cheeks, it is to reveal ebony hair without a touch of gray. It is twisted into such an elaborate knot that I think it must reach the floor when unbound. He says something to her quietly, and then looks my way. The woman nods and moves toward me, her gaze piercing mine. I feel suddenly violated.
Her voice is soft and smooth. It belies the fear she instills in me. “Amalia, welcome to Altus. We have long awaited your arrival. Brother Markov tells me you are quite tired and require protection and shelter. Please allow us the privilege of providing you with both.”
She does not wait for my answer, nor does she wait for me. She simply turns and begins walking up a stone pathway that seems to wind to the very top of the island. Dimitri reaches for my hand and takes my bag, leading me forward. The others fall into line, the robed women at the back of our strange group.
About halfway to the top of the hill, I begin to think I will not make it. My exhaustion, held at bay by the terrifying and frigid plummet through the ocean, resurfaces as we make our way on the peaceful island. It is a riot of color and sensation — the brilliant red of the apples on the trees that seem to grow wild everywhere I look, the many robed and half-hidden faces that are alternately mysterious and fearsome, the rich green of the grass along the side of the pathway, and the soft, sweet scent that reminds me of my mother. It is all there, but in an amalgam that is at once overwhelming and surreal.
Luisa’s voice, when I hear it, seems to come from within my own head. It is both louder and more muffled than usual. “Goodness!” she says. “Are there not carriages or horses? Any mode of transport that does not involve us trudging up this neverending mountain would suffice.”
“The Sisters believe that walking is good for the soul,” Dimitri says, and even in my current state I think I hear the humor in his voice.
Luisa is not amused. “Nothing is as good for the soul as comfort, in my opinion.” She stops to wipe her brow with the back of her sleeve.
I try to keep walking. To put one foot in front of the other. I think if I can do only that, if I can only keep moving, I will reach the end of the path. But my body has something else in mind. It stops working altogether until I am standing perfectly still in the middle of the path.
“Lia? Are you all right?” Dimitri stands in front of me. I feel his arm on mine. See his concerned face.
I want to reassure him. To tell him that, of course, I am perfectly fine. That I shall just walk and walk and walk until such a time when I might finally lay down and rest with dignity. A time when I might rest without fear of the Souls taking charge of the medallion that is, even now, heavy on my wrist and my mind.
None of that is what I say. In fact, I don’t say anything at all, because the words that sound so reasonable in my head will not form on my lips. Worse, my legs are no longer willing to support my body. The ground rushes toward me with alarming speed until something lifts me above it.
And then there is nothing at all.
It is the pulsing on my chest that draws me out of the blackness.
I feel it there for what seems a long time before I have the energy to swim my way out of the lethargy that weighs down my limbs as well as my will. When I finally open my eyes, it is to a young woman with eyes as green as my own, her hair a brilliant white halo against the candlelight reaching to me from the recesses of the room. Her face is kind, her forehead creased with worry as she looks down at me.
“Shhh,” she says. “You must sleep.”
“What… What…” I will my hands to reach for the thing I feel on my chest. It takes me some time to make my arms obey, but when they do, I grasp at a smooth, hard oval attached to a string around my neck. The object is hot to my touch and throbs with an energy I can almost hear. “What is this?” I finally manage to ask.
She smiles gently. “It is only an adder stone, though a powerful one, to be sure. It is to protect you. From the Souls.” She takes my hands and tucks them under the thick blankets that cover my body. “Sleep now, Sister Amalia.”
“What about… what about Dimitri? And Luisa? And Sonia and Edmund?”
“They’re quite all right, I promise. Everything is well in hand. Altus is off-limits to the Souls, and the adder stone will protect you while you sleep. You’ve nothing to fear.”
She gets up from the bed, disappearing into the dim room, lit only with candles, behind her. I want to stay awake. I want to formulate the many, many questions clamoring for attention, but it is no use, and I slip back into the nothingness before I can put up a fight.
“Are you awake now? Well and truly?”
This time it is a different girl who hovers over me. She is younger than the shadowy woman who told me about the adder stone and cared for me during the time I floated in and out of consciousness. This girl looks at me not with worry but with open curiosity.
I fumble beneath the sheets for my wrist, breathing a sigh of relief as my fingers touch the cool disc of the medallion, the whispery velvet of the ribbon. It is still there along with the familiar mixture of relief and resentment that accompanies its presence.
The voice of the other woman drifts to me in the haze of memory: It is only an adder stone, though a powerful one, to be sure. It is to protect you. From the Souls.
My hand feels leaden as I lift it to my chest, fumbling for the stone around my neck. When my fingers close around it, I am baffled to find it smooth and with a heat tha
t should burn my skin and somehow does not. I resolve to ask more about it later and drop my hand back to the coverlet.
“May I…” My throat is so dry I can hardly speak. “May I have some water, please?”
The girl giggles. “You could ask for the moon right now and the Sisters will see to it that it arrives prettily wrapped on your doorstep.”
I don’t know what she means, but she reaches for the table at the side of the bed and pours water into a heavy ceramic mug, lifting it to my lips so that I can drink. The water is icy and pure in a way that is almost sweet.
“Thank you.” I let my head fall back onto the pillow. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days or so, off and on.”
I nod. I have vague memories of waking to the darkened room, the flickering candles casting shadows on the wall as graceful figures moved about in the half-light.
“Where is the other girl? The one who cared for me before?” I ask.
She purses her lips as she ponders my question. “Did she have very white hair and green eyes? Or was her hair dark, like yours?”
“I… I think it was light.”
“That would be Una. She has cared for you the most.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugs. “Don’t you want to know my name?” She is petulant now, and I see that she is probably no more than twelve.
“Of course. I was just going to ask. You have such pretty hair.” I reach up and touch a shimmering lock. It glows gold even in the faint light of the candles, and I try not to feel the pain near my heart. “It reminds me of a dear friend of mine.”
“Not the one they have in hiding?” She seems angry at the comparison.
“I don’t know where they have her. I only know that she is as dear to me as a sister.” I decide to change the subject. “So? What is your name?”
“Astrid.” She says it with the satisfaction of one who finds her own name pleasing.
I smile at her, though it feels more like a grimace. “It’s a beautiful name.”
My mind, sufficiently warmed up with talk of hair and names, is finally moving. I try to rise onto my elbows, hoping to dress and find Dimitri and the others, but my arms wobble underneath me until I fall back onto the pillow.
But that is not the worst of it.
The worst of it is the sheet, which falls to my waist as I attempt to rise, revealing my shockingly bare upper body. I grasp for the edge of the sheet, raising it quickly to my neck and realizing with true horror how soft and crisp the sheets are against my entire body. Or more accurately, against my entirely bare body.
It takes me a moment to formulate the words. When I do, they come out more a sputter than a question. “Where are my clothes?”
Astrid giggles again. “You would have preferred sleeping in your traveling attire?”
“No, but… surely someone could have found me a dressing gown of some kind… a shift… anything at all? Or do you not have clothes here on Altus?” I regret the bite of my words but am filled with mortifying visions of a stranger stripping me bare as a babe.
Astrid eyes me with blatant curiosity, as if I am an exotic animal on display. “Certainly we have clothing, but why would you want to wear it while you sleep? Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”
“Of course not!” I snap. “One is supposed to sleep in nightclothes!”
It is a ridiculous conversation, like trying to describe color to someone who cannot see, and I ignore the devilish voice in my head that sees reason in her argument and cannot help noticing the cool slide of the sheets against my naked skin.
“If you say so.” Astrid’s smile is sly, as if she sees straight through my argument and knows exactly what I am thinking.
I lift my chin, trying to reclaim some of my dignity. “Yes, well… I’ll need help locating my clothing, please.”
She tips her head playfully. “I should think you’ll need to eat and rest a bit before resuming normal activity.”
“I have things to which I must attend. People I need to see.”
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. I have strict instructions to see that you rest and eat. Besides, you see how it is; you are too weak to be about just yet.”
I am suddenly weary of Astrid’s sly giggles and knowing glances.
“I’d like to see Una, please.” I wonder if she will be offended, but she rises with only a sigh.
“Very well. I shall ask her to come to you. Is there anything I can get you while you wait?”
I shake my head, wondering if a gag for her condescending mouth would be too much to ask.
She leaves the room without another word, and I wait in a silence so total I wonder if there is a world outside the room at all. I do not hear voices or footsteps or the clank of silver on porcelain. Nothing to indicate that people are living, eating, or breathing outside of my room.
I look around, clutching the sheet to my chest, until the faint sound of graceful footsteps approaches the door. It swings open without a sound, and I marvel that such a door — it looks as if it was carved out of a giant oak — can move without a creak.
Una closes it quietly behind her. I do not know her at all, and yet I am happy to see her as she approaches the bed. She emanates goodness and serenity, something I somehow remember even from my addled, half-awake state the last time we spoke.
“Hello,” she says, smiling. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”
I see in her eyes that she is, and I return her smile. “Thank you for coming. I…” I throw a glance at the door. “You were very good to me while I slept.”
She laughs and it travels all the way to her eyes in a sparkle. “Astrid can be a bit much, can she not? I had something else I needed to attend to, and I didn’t want to leave you alone. Was she a terrible pest?”
“Well… not terrible.”
She grins. “Hmmm, I see. That bad, was she?” She looks at the water cup on the bedside table. “At least she had the good sense to give you water. You must be dying of thirst and very hungry besides!”
I have not thought of food until this moment, but the second Una mentions it, my stomach twists with emptiness.
“I’m starving!” I tell her.
“It is no wonder!” she says, rising. “You have been asleep for nearly two days.” She moves to a wardrobe at the far side of the room, talking as she goes. “I’ll set you out some clothes and fetch you food and drink. We will have you right as rain in no time.”
I try again to rise on my elbows, and this time I manage it. It is the first time I have gotten a glimpse of the whole room. From this angle, it does not seem as enormous as it did when the shadows hid its far corners. It is sparsely furnished, with only the wardrobe, a small chest of drawers, and a simple writing table and chair in addition to the bed and night table. A heavily draperied window rises from the floor all the way to the ceiling high overhead. The walls are stone. I can smell them, cool and musty, now that I am coherent, and I somehow know that they have sheltered the Sisters for centuries. The thought brings me to the reason for our journey.
“How is my Aunt Abigail?” I ask Una from across the room.
She turns a little so that I can see her face. Her brow creases with worry. “Not well, I’m afraid. The Elders are doing all they can, but…” She shrugs. “It is the way of things, is it not?” It makes sense, of course, for Aunt Abigail must be quite old, but even Una sounds sad.
“May I see her?” I ask.
She closes the doors to the wardrobe and walks back toward the bed with a garment draped over her arm. “She’s sleeping. She has been asking for you for days. Was unable to sleep, if the truth is told, until she knew you had arrived safely. Now that she is finally comfortable, it would be kindest to let her rest. You have my word, though, that you will be summoned the moment she awakens.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.” She meets my eyes with a smile that I return as she lays the garments at the end of the bed. “There, now. P
ut these on while I get you something to eat. There is water for washing on the bureau.”
“Yes, but…” I do not want to be rude in the face of her hospitality. “What of my own clothes?”
“They’re being laundered,” she says. “Besides, I think you’ll find these decidedly more comfortable.” There is a twinkle in her eye, and I catch the slightest air of Astrid, minus the hint of malice I thought I recognized in the other girl’s eyes.
I nod. “All right, then. Thank you.”
She smiles in answer and turns to leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
I wait a moment before daring to leave my bed. Already I feel weak, and I have done nothing more than rise to a half-sitting position and speak to Una. I have a vague recollection of falling on the stone pathway leading to the top of the island in the moments before I lost consciousness. I am mortified at the memory and fervently hope that I will not collapse on the floor of my room.
I begin by throwing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The room is surprisingly warm, even in my state of nakedness. The rush of cold air I expect without the covers does not come, and when I manage to place my feet on the stone floor it, too, is warm.
Holding on to the bedside table, I lift myself ever so carefully to a standing position. A wave of dizziness hits me, but it only last a few seconds. When it passes, I shuffle to the end of the bed on limbs stiff from lack of use, the adder stone resting wantonly between my naked breasts. Even alone as I am, I cannot help but feel self-conscious, but when I reach the clothes that Una has laid out for me, I become certain that there must be some mistake.
Either that, or someone is having a good laugh at my expense.
21
“You didn’t leave me everything! I’m missing… all kinds of things!”
Una puts a tray laden with bread, cheeses, and fruit on the night table and makes her way to where I sit on the bed. Her soft lilac robe, identical to the one I am wearing, swirls around her feet and against her body. I catch an outline of the womanly figure underneath along with my first hint that there has not, after all, been a mistake.
Guardian of the Gate Page 14
