Opening the door, Amelia walked out into the hall. It all looked familiar in a strange way. WroOth had many memories of this place. It was like recognizing things as someone else had described them. The walls stretched on before her. Most of the claw marks were from WroOth and QueQoa. If she looked at them hard enough, she thought she might be able to remember what brought them about. She paused, seeing the toys organized behind the couch. A knot formed in her throat. Tears pricked her eyes. She had to get out of that room.
She hurried to the end of the hall, threw open the door, and ran out into the high-ceilinged chamber. An attendant in well-tailored black and green garments stood at attention. He straightened and bowed. "My lady," he said. "Lord Naatos asks that you either wait in these chambers or in the garden. He is handling the dispensement, and when it has concluded, he wishes to see you. If you tell me where you would rather be, I will inform him as soon as the matter has concluded."
"I'm not staying in there." Amelia wiped the tears from her eyes. She covered her mouth, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't!"
"Then the garden on the first level? I will take you there if you allow it." The attendant bowed his head again. A young man who looked to be about Matthu's age, he avoided maintaining eye contact with her for more than a few seconds at a time.
"That would be fine. Thank you." Amelia started to follow the attendant. But she had to stop several times to orient herself as the occasional dizzy spell or overloud thought made her waver. The cold stone helped refocus her thoughts, and though the attendant remained several feet in front of her, he always waited for her to push back from the wall before continuing. Amelia was particularly careful going down the staircase. It seemed to stretch on and on.
Soon they reached the first floor, and the nervous attendant stopped before a large double arch that led into a garden.
Amelia entered slowly. This garden was not exactly familiar, but it had that sensation to it. As if she had spent a great deal of time in a similar one. The pale-silver stone path had been swept clean. Large statues carved from alabaster and dark stone stood guard within the garden. The path wound through the flower beds, surrounded on all sides by pale green lamb's ear, fragrant broad-leafed sage, and tall blue-bonneted hembells. Dark ivy crept up the walls and around the flowering trees. The trees were the one indicator of the garden's long abandonment. Many of the branches hung a bit too low, and the peach and nut trees needed a good pruning. There had never been fruit trees in her garden. Amelia placed her hand on the trunk of the closest tree. The black speckled bark crunched ever so slightly beneath her fingernails.
From this one point in the garden, she could see practically everything. Including the deep blue sky. My old garden had a roof, she thought. And hedges. It was a maze. Her discomfort increased. Was it good that this one didn't or…bad? She looked around.
Vague memories plucked at her mind. For a moment, she thought she heard laughter. A young boy.
A sharp pang of loneliness cut through her. This wasn't where she wanted to be. There had to be someone else here. More thoughts and impressions pressed upon her. Hugging herself, she hurried out of the garden.
Already the sunlight was fading. Fragrant torches hanging on the walls cast a golden glow upon the wall and floor. But there was no one there. As in Polfradon, the brothers did not have the Talbokians in the same quarters as them. That emptiness created an eeriness.
Amelia shivered as the cool dusk breeze blew in. Rubbing her arms, she wandered along the passages. I was going to explore the temple to… Amelia chewed on the inside of her lip. She paused at a cross section in the hall. She traced her fingers through the air, trying to put her finger on the right memory. There was nothing. She knotted her fists and clenched her teeth. This was ridiculous. And that need to find someone, anyone, increased.
On and on she wandered. Sometimes she struck her fist against the stone, other times she slipped back into the silence of blank memory. But it was the isolation that she hated the most. Occasionally she glimpsed attendants and warriors on some task or another, but they scuttled away almost as soon as they spotted her. When she asked questions, they gave curt answers, but none could tell her what she had forgotten or even where Naatos, AaQar, or WroOth was. And if she even brushed against one's arm or hand, he recoiled in fear.
That only intensified the empty loneliness. Amelia rubbed her hand to the side of her head. No one here wanted to talk to her. It reminded her of…
She sighed. That answer hung at the edge of her mind, unwilling to present itself. What she could recall was that she needed to identify the layout of the temple. At least her short-term memory appeared to be working fine.
As she walked, she made mental notes about her location. It was relatively easy as she made word associations and committed the patterns to memory. Every hall and chamber had at least half a dozen distinct tapestries or paintings. Sculptures depicting historical or mythological figures were in almost every room. And when she crossed back into a room or hall she had already explored, she remembered it at once. The halls and chambers were immaculate but smelled old and a little musty in some places.
A faint cry reached her ears. Amelia paused. It sounded like a man's voice coming from farther down the hall. She started toward the sound. Night had fallen entirely, broken only by the torchlight. Her own shadow flowed across the wall. She slipped along toward the sound. More shouts followed. She smelled smoke and meat burning. She frowned, her shoulders tightening. A razor sensation ran along her spine. This wasn't good.
She quickened her pace, following the sound. More screams followed. Agonizing, gut-wrenching shrieks. Each one punched into her thoughts. Strange scents flowed up the passage. Burning flesh, singed hair, smoke, oil.
"What are you doing out here, Amelia?"
Amelia turned, startled to hear WroOth's voice. As soon as she saw him, a mass of emotions welled within her. All of those memories he showed her poured back in upon her consciousness. "WroOth…" Her voice trembled. "I…I'm so sorry about—"
WroOth held up his hand. "Let's not—"
Amelia flung her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Tears filled her eyes. She tried to choke off the sob.
"Just…" WroOth stiffened and then shook his head. "I'm fine."
"No…" Amelia whispered. "I know you aren't. And I'm not. I don't…I don't know how you can keep on going." Her fingers curled into his sleeve, clinging to him.
WroOth made a strange strangled sound. He hugged her back, squeezing her tight. They stood there for several minutes. Pulling back, he wiped his eyes. "Well, that's enough of that. You can't make me lose all credibility as a war lord and Para, all right?" He put his hand to his forehead. "It's—"
Another agonized scream tore through the air, louder this time. Additional cries for mercy broke through.
Amelia spun around. "What's happening in there?" She started down the hall.
WroOth caught her arm. "Trust me, Amelia. It will be harder for you if you see it."
"See what?" Amelia searched his face, trying to find an answer. He was genuinely conflicted, struggling with some knowledge he held. "What's going on in there? What's Naatos doing?" It had to be Naatos. She knew it.
"He is handling the dispensement in preparation for the coming of the Vawtrians." WroOth pulled her along. "Come with me. Now."
"What is the dispensement?" Another scream of pain punched through the air. Amelia looked over her shoulder. She could feel great pain flowing within that room. Fear. Terror. Resolution.
Her own thoughts started to clarify. Then, all at once, agony clenched within her chest. She fell to the ground, her heart pulsing. It expanded against her fingers, seeming to want to tear from her chest.
The pain tore through her mind, bringing everything into horrifying clarity. Guilt and shame flowed over her as she remembered Shon, the Ayamin, the Tue-Rah, everything. What had she been thinking? She choked.
"Another attack?" WroOth drop
ped beside her. He carried her over to the wall and set her on a bench. "Just breathe. Breathe. It'll pass. Don't panic. I'll get you some water."
Amelia shook her head. Her lungs burned.
"How many is this now?" WroOth glanced around the hall. More screams followed from that closed-off chamber.
Amelia held up three fingers.
"Three…" WroOth's eyes widened.
Everything was clear now. Her love for Shon. Her growing feelings for Naatos. The bakai. Her elmis. Amelia drove her hand against the wall, closing her eyes.
"Amelia, this is getting out of hand. You're going to have to—"
"I don't care." Amelia knew what he was going to say. She hugged her knees to her chest, keeping the pressure tight. "Shon…"
WroOth shook his head and sat beside her. "Your heart could give out, Amelia."
"You're overstating the problem." Amelia sucked in another breath. "It's just pain."
"Only pain? Are you under some impression that pain is something to be ignored?"
"Yes, if nothing can be done about it." Amelia winced. "I'm fine. I was probably just pressing too hard."
WroOth frowned. He moved back her hair and the fabric from her bodice. The skin around the pain's focal point remained flushed. There was a bulge as well as a long crescent-shaped bruise about the size of her fist. "See…it's my hand," Amelia said.
"That's coming from the inside." WroOth drew his hand across his mouth, his expression growing concerned. "You're in trouble, little sister. And there's only one way to solve this."
"Naatos told me, and it's not going to happen," Amelia snapped. She winced again, the pain sharpening. It seemed to be lasting longer this time. After a few seconds, it began to lessen. Then it spiked again, bringing with it more clarity and more agony. She gave a sharp cry, her eyes welling up. Hatred for her elmis rose within her.
"It's their fault!" She thrust her hand in WroOth's face to show him her elmis. "I didn't feel before them. They're what's causing this. They're the reason I fell in love with Shon. They're the reason I'm falling in love with Naatos. They're the reason for everything! Cut them out, WroOth!"
WroOth pulled back. "Amelia, those are your—"
"Cut them out!" Amelia shouted. She grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, holding his gaze. "You have to do it. I can't. Please, WroOth. I'm not strong enough! Naatos will kill Shon if I don't. You know that!"
WroOth's pupils dilated. "Amelia…" he said, struggling with the effort to speak. "It's the connection to your soul. It would do more than—"
"Cut them out, WroOth. Please! Don't let Shon die. I'd rather never feel anything ever again than be the reason that he dies." Amelia clasped her hand over his, shaking with emotion. "Please, WroOth. Just do it." The knife was at his side. She pulled back, turning her palms up. "Please…brother."
WroOth stared at her. "It's going to hurt." He formed the words with great difficulty. Sweat beaded his forehead, and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
"It already hurts." Amelia bit her lip, bracing herself. "Just do it quickly. Please help me. I have to stay here. I have to be Naatos's wife. I have to have your nieces and nephews. But I cannot let Shon die. Cut out my elmis. This is the only way. Please."
WroOth hesitated. Then he removed the hunting knife from its sheath. The jagged blade glinted in the torch light. "Don't move."
Amelia nodded and closed her eyes. She remembered the dimness she had lived in before she lost the coverings for her elmis. That would all be gone. The sensitivity. The awareness. It would be like losing half her sight, but it would be worth it. She held her breath, waiting for the slicing pain.
Suddenly, WroOth shouted. He hurled the knife across the hall and grabbed hold of his head. "I am WroOth! I am not you. I am not you, and I never will be!" He tore at his hair, dropping to his knees. "Out of my head. Oh, kista verskelti! Get out of my head!"
Confused, Amelia started to her feet. "WroOth, what's wrong?"
WroOth looked up at her, his eyes wild. He clasped her face in his hands. "Your constant whispering and contradictions. All you think. All you believe. All rattling around in my head! Telling me to see things your way. Ordering me! But I am not you. I am the Para of this world, a Keyr Vawtrian, and the Arbiter of the Awdawms and Machat! You are driving me insane."
"What am I doing?" Amelia exclaimed. She jerked away, staring at him in shock. "I'm not telling you to do anything! I'm asking."
WroOth laughed. He lifted his face toward the ceiling. "If only it was so, but you are never silent, you little vespyr!" Throwing his arms in the air, he strangled a strange cry. "Leave my thoughts in peace. You ask, but it is a demand. You want to save this foolish Awdawm child, and he is doomed. The fruit is bitter beyond belief. Save him and make yourself not a Neyeb?" He pressed his forehead to hers. "There's nothing that can be done. Accept it, Amelia. Accept it and give me peace!"
38
The Imprinting
A door slammed against the wall. The scents of smoke, blood, and oil intensified. Both Amelia and WroOth turned to look. Naatos closed the door, his gaze fixed on them. Not even a scream punctuated the silence.
Walking forward, Naatos picked up WroOth's knife. He turned it over in his hand and then offered it to WroOth. "Are you feeling better, WroOth?"
WroOth tensed. He stared at Naatos, the muscles along his jaw and cheek twitching. "I presume the dispensement is concluded."
"Sufficiently. Tevral and the others can finish matters," Naatos said. He offered the knife to WroOth again, his hand covering the blade.
"Then it is not concluded?" WroOth asked.
Naatos shook his head, still focusing on WroOth. "When I hear my brother screaming his name, my priorities shift. Particularly when he is screaming his name at my wife. Now one of you tell me what brought this on."
"Amelia wants her elmis cut out," WroOth said at last. He released a sharp sigh, striking his hand against his side.
Amelia glared at him. But to her surprise, he actually pulled back as if wounded. She frowned. What was going on with WroOth? She tilted her head, uncertain even what she sensed from him aside from confusion and guilt. Then she realized Naatos was staring at her, his expression hard.
"You do realize that without your elmis you would not be able to connect as deeply or as emotionally or read minds at all," Naatos said, stepping closer. He angled toward her. "Half the reason I wanted you was because you are a Neyeb. Your skills are as valuable as you."
"She is more than her skills," WroOth said sharply.
Naatos's eyebrow arched. "WroOth, prolonged exposure to the Neyeb who imprinted on your mind can sometimes worsen symptoms. Take another flight around the temple. Clear your head. We will see you at dinner."
WroOth hesitated. His muscles remained knotted in his neck, a vein pulsing along his forehead, as he shook his head. He then lifted his hands, turned, and walked away. His sharp fast footsteps soon faded.
Naatos snapped his fingers, bringing Amelia's attention back to him. "Why would you cut out your elmis, Amelia?"
"You feel threatened by Shon. My elmis are what connect me to him emotionally. If they're gone, you don't have to be worried." Amelia's discomfort grew. He stared at her with such intensity that it felt like he was the mindreader.
"Your elmis will connect us as well. You grew up with your elmis covered, but they were still working, even though it was not as it should have been. You think you know what it means to live without them? You have no concept, viskaro. You still received subtle information from your elmis even then. It dimmed your perception, but it didn't remove it. If you touched something, particularly with your hands, you were still able to connect in limited ways. If you cut out all your elmis, you would lose even that. It would blind you."
"Just the sensual ones then," Amelia said. She turned her palms over. "The ones in my hands and the small of my back. I wouldn't be blind then, and you wouldn't have to worry. I can do everything you want without them. I can probably even do it better.
"
"Amelia, I gave you my word that I would not kill Shon unless you told me you allowed it. I may not like that vow, but I will keep it." Naatos placed his hands over hers. "I have not even taken advantage of your vow to me."
Amelia frowned. He hadn't actually said that. He had made it clear that if Shon interfered, he would kill him. But was this his way of making the promise now?
"I want to be close to you, and I want you close to me. That cannot be accomplished without the elmis." Naatos drew her nearer. His tone softened. "You mean more to me than you yet understand, Amelia. And I don't like seeing you suffer."
"The other races can feel without elmis. I lived with mine covered. And you can feel about me as you choose. My elmis aren't required." Amelia refrained from commenting on his disliking her suffering though it struck her as ironic. There was no need to antagonize him right now.
"You cannot love without your elmis. You are already at risk, viskaro. Do not damage yourself further. The damage to you would change who you are in ways you would not want to understand. And I do not want that for you."
Amelia ducked her head. "I am not afraid of suffering."
"Three days ago, I would have said that is a good thing given your tendencies, but unfortunately I actually care about how you feel, which makes allowing you to suffer far more difficult."
"Love is a burden," Amelia said.
"It is." Naatos cupped his hand beneath her chin. His thumb traced along the line of her jaw, a faint smile pulling at his lips.
Amelia avoided looking at him as he pulled her closer, his other arm coiling around her waist. "I feel like that's a sign we both made the wrong choice."
"No. It's just love. It's always hard. And you don't make it any easier, you tedious little creature."
He sounded almost playful. Amelia shook her head, smirking slightly. "Tedious little creature? Is that your idea of sweet talk?" She put her hand to his chest to push away, feeling a dampness through the fabric of her gown. "What…do you have blood on you?" Stepping back, she realized that blood now streaked her dress.
Enemy Known Page 37
