by R. K. Hart
Lida took another step.
Tears tracked hot down her cheeks as Cathan turned away from her, anger in his tense shoulders, a slim silver chain in pieces in his hand, broken without hope of repair. Lida turned and ran down the hallway, her bare feet cold on the wood, sobs raking her small chest. She threw herself on the bed and cried unreservedly.
The taste of honey on her tongue for the very first time; her eyes wide as a childish giggle escaped her throat and she fought to take back the spoon full of sweetness.
Another step.
A beautiful Myrae woman smiled down at her, her emerald eyes full of love, a smear of blood on her cheek, her tight curls pulled back into a messy braid darkened with sweat. She whispered something and bent to kiss Lida’s brow, her lips warm. Lida was cosy and comfortable; all she knew was the Myrae woman, and that was enough. The woman was hers.
Lida cried out and stepped back, a feeling she could not name threatening to overcome her.
‘Mama?’ she whispered, her hand trembling as she reached out to find her again.
‘A memory of her,’ came a voice. Lida spun to see Ava watching her calmly. ‘One of your first.’
Lida looked back to the mist. ‘I didn’t know what she looked like,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘I didn’t know that I had it.’
Ava smiled sadly. ‘This is the place where everything is.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything we know. Everything we experience. This is the place the memories go, the bad and the good; every sunny day alongside every embarrassment, everything you’ve ever done wrong next to every time you’ve laughed or kissed or loved. Everything you are is here.’
Lida didn’t think she could shiver within her own mind, but a tremor ran through her.
Ava nodded. ‘You are right to be wary. This place is enough to drive one mad.’
‘How do I get out?’
‘Back the way you came.’
Lida took a last look at the mist. As she did, it parted slightly; beyond it, she glimpsed an expanse of unbroken white.
‘What’s that, Ava?’
‘What’s what?’
‘The white. The white beyond the mist.’
Ava shook her head. ‘There is no white beyond the mist. The mist is all there is.’
Lida turned back, sure that she was wrong, but Ava grabbed her hand.
‘No, Lida,’ she said firmly, pulling her away. ‘Enough for one day. Lorcan gave me five minutes. We need to be back before - well, we need to go back. Come.’
She led Lida through the mist, careful not to touch it, and back to the sandstone staircase. Lida walked up the first three steps slowly, feeling heavier each time. When she reached the plateau, she began to feel her body again; she hadn’t even realised she’d stopped. Her heart beat erratically against her ribs.
‘Come,’ Ava repeated, pulling her higher. ‘Come.’
A voice rumbled anxiously above them. One minute, Ava.
‘Go now,’ Ava said, pulling Lida up the last step. ‘He’s worried. Go.’
Lida twitched her fingers, tentatively at first, then bunched her hands into fists, using the sensation to rise back up to consciousness. In her mind’s eye, she could see Lorcan sitting in front of her, his back very straight and his body very still, glowing with light. Ava was more relaxed, her shoulders rounded forward, her head down. Lida could see the gold playing around them, moving in and through and out of their bodies, swirling in the air. They were both so bright it almost hurt to look at them.
She dug her nails into her palms and opened her eyes.
Her body was slumped and she was lying on her side, head pillowed by the thick green carpet. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted, putting a hand to her head. Lorcan reached out silently to help her up. Pain laced through her body; she had fallen on her injured shoulder.
‘Oh,’ she said groggily. ‘Mikal is going to kill me.’ She rubbed at her eyes and swayed; Lorcan braced his arm carefully against her back to keep her upright. She leaned against it gratefully.
Ava gave a tiny gasp and shook her head, blinking just as Lida had. She was wan, her eyes heavy.
‘What happened?’ Lorcan asked quietly.
Ava rubbed her temples. ‘Lida went to her memories. I think it was the only reason I could get in - she was drawing so much power that her mindshield weakened. I found her and brought her back out.’ She gave a weary smile. ‘I found why the mentors couldn’t get through.’
‘Why?’ Lida asked, her mouth suddenly dry.
‘Most people have two mindshields, Lida. A light one around their whole mind, one that guards considered thoughts and deliberate musings, and a very strong one around their memories, around the mist. Readers train to get through the first shield, to the thoughts and processes of a person, but they cannot get to the experience, to the true memories, to the core, unless that person chooses to let them in.
‘You have only one mindshield - the strong one. Instead of it being around your memory mist, it’s around everything. It means that it’s unlikely anyone could ever broach it - it was very difficult even for me, and I can get through anything - but if they did, they could get to everything you are.’
‘Why would that happen? Why would I have only one?’
Ava shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’
‘And her gift, Ava?’
The question came from the doorway; Lida tensed. Ava didn’t seem surprised to see Tiernan there, and simply shook her head again.
‘I’ve seen every gift there is, Tiernan,’ she said tiredly. ‘But I don’t know what this is.’
‘Well then,’ Tiernan said, equally unsurprised.
‘We will find out,’ Lorcan said quietly.
Tiernan nodded. ‘We will find out.’ He gave Lida a level grey stare. ‘I have spent the last two days looking through the register of students. I went back fifty years and asked Brigid to double-check it, but there is no Siva listed. I am sorry.’
Lida thought of the Myrae woman with the blood smeared across her cheek and swallowed her disappointment. Tiernan acknowledged it with a nod that was surprisingly understanding.
‘It does not mean that you will not find her,’ he said gently. ‘In the meantime, I will see if Rikard wants a trip home to Kingstown. I think we need to speak with your father.’
Chapter Eight: Panic
Mikal was angry about her shoulder, but Lida didn’t think it was directed at her. He muttered under his breath as he examined the joint and re-strapped her arm. Lida’s Brinnican was very basic - she had never really listened in language class - but she knew what l’gri hom meant, and guessed that she wasn’t the only one who thought of Tiernan as the grey man.
When he finished, Mikal studied her face very closely, his blue eyes serious. ‘I can formally request that you change mentors, if I think you are not being cared for properly,’ he said softly. ‘If at any time you would like for me to do that, you just have to let me know.’
Lida gave him a small smile. ‘I will remember,’ she promised. ‘But, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly Tiernan’s fault.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Mikal said darkly. ‘It is only your second lesson. In my second lesson -’ he stopped abruptly, stepping away and drawing himself up to his full height.
‘Jak,’ he whispered.
Lorcan appeared in Lida’s bedroom doorway barely a moment later. ‘Mikal.’
‘I know.’ Mikal turned to Lida, his hands bunched in his tunic. ‘Jakob is awake.’
Lida stared at him. ‘Then why are you still here? Go!’
He spun away immediately and left so swiftly he was almost running. Lorcan let him brush past and shot Lida a worried frown before he followed.
She didn’t see either of them for the next few days. Rather than attending lessons, Tiernan asked Ava to work with Lida on her mindshield. Ava did not like working inside, a dislike of which Lida heartily approved, so they spent the time sitting on blankets in the orchard.
&n
bsp; Ava was much more forthcoming than Tiernan had been, explaining that what they called illae was simply a kind of energy that all natural forces and everything living had, but that only some could see and bring to themselves to use, by drawing and channelling. Ava said that Erbidans and Brinnicans believed that illae came from the stars, but in Seti they believed that the energy was of the earth, and Auterans thought it came from the desert.
She spent some time teaching Lida the differences between the main gifts, and which mentor at the Illarum fit where: Katrin with the healers, the natureworkers mentored by Brigid, Rikard with the readers, the shielders trained by Caradoc, and the remainder with Tiernan. She told Lida that while some apprentices stayed at the Illarum only four years, many lived there for their entire lives, helping to train those that came after them and continually working to strengthen their own gift. Sometimes they would choose to journey through Eilan and further for months - even years - at a time, offering their services as healers at hospices, as Delia did, or as natureworkers on large farms or estates. Weatherworkers might end up on ships or working in port towns. Readers or shielders would often work for noble families; Ava said that the royal family in Eilan had used a special regiment of gifted guards ever since the reign of King August, which Lida had not known.
Lida plied her with questions, and between her explanations Ava patiently instructed her on trying to thin the glowing links of her mindshield. Ava tried every trick she knew and walked Lida through what seemed like a thousand different visualizations; all that came of it was that Lida got very good at putting herself in a trance. She simply couldn’t do as Ava asked. Her mindshield still loomed, solid and unbroken, and Ava said that if she couldn’t get through, then no one else had a hope. Lida wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to open up her mind to others, but without being able to control her shield, she wouldn’t be able to practise - let alone master - the basic illae-skills the apprentices used freely. She wouldn’t be able to reach out to speak to the other gifted - illae-call - or to eavesdrop on their surface thoughts. Whatever her gift was, she wouldn’t be able to direct her power outwards to use it.
Ava made up a term for it - mindbound - which sounded ominous to Lida, though Ava was optimistic that at any moment Lida’s mindshield would thin and she would be as any other new apprentice, wishing for silence against the sudden onslaught of noise outside their mind.
Lida rose to consciousness after another unsuccessful attempt, deeply frustrated, and stared up at the leaves of the apple tree above her, an autumn tapestry of reds and oranges and yellows. ‘I can’t do it, Ava.’
‘It’s fine, Lida,’ Ava said in her gentle way. ‘Let’s go and get some coffee.’
They shook out their blankets, and Lida draped hers around her shoulders. It wasn’t cold yet - it was barely cool - but she was still craving the summer sun. The Illarum was far more exposed than she was used to, and the breeze from the sea made her shiver whenever she ventured outside. If she were in Kingstown, the stone buildings and paved roads would hold the summer heat for a while longer. If I was at home, I wouldn’t be cold, she thought.
It was warmer inside the building. The dining hall was still full, as it was just past lunch, but Lida and Ava had eaten earlier. Ava led her to the banquet table and took a pot of coffee and two mugs; Lida hastily grabbed a cup of sugar. Ava drank the awful stuff like water, but Lida needed it sweetened considerably to make it palatable. They sat at Ava’s favourite table, in the far corner by the window, and Lida watched as Ava poured the coffee, taking the sugar from Lida and adding three spoonfuls to Lida’s cup.
When she was done, Ava cradled her coffee in both hands. ‘I have to train with Caradoc this afternoon,’ she said, ‘but there’s one more thing I want for us to try.’
Lida sipped her drink. ‘Mmm?’
‘I want to visit while you’re asleep.’
Lida coughed. She badly wanted to control her shield - if only not to feel so left behind - but she instinctively shied away from the idea. The vulnerability of it made her uneasy. ‘Why?’ she croaked.
Ava toyed with the handle of her cup. ‘Because I don’t think you should go back into the mist just yet, but I would like to look at your shield properly. And I don’t know another time that you’ll be unguarded enough for me to find a way in.’
‘Ava -’
‘I know what you’re worried about,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘But I have no interest in prying, and even less in judgement.’
Lida must have looked unconvinced, for she continued.
‘Yours was the hardest shield I’ve ever had to get through. I don’t even have to try most of the time. It would take very little effort for me to tell you every secret that every apprentice and every mentor in the Illarum has - and they wouldn’t even know that I’d been rifling through their mind.
‘When I was younger, I spent every waking moment engulfed in the thoughts and feelings and memories of other people. I have seen things, heard things, felt things that you can’t even imagine. Coming here - where everyone can shield, and where Katrin taught me to do the same - was the best thing that ever happened to me. Suddenly it was quiet, Lida, after seven straight years of noise. I didn’t have to know what people felt, or thought; I didn’t have to see inside them, not unless I chose to look. I never want to leave this place.’ She turned her mug around, her face tight. ‘No one should know the things that I know. It’s easier when you’re a child; no less shocking, no less frightening, but you do not have the knowledge to understand. Now … if I were to leave now, and feel and see and hear those things again … Now, I would go mad.
‘So please believe me when I say that I have no interest in your secrets, not unless you choose to tell me as a friend and sister. And please believe me that there is nothing in your mind that could shock me or make me think badly of you. I would have already seen it.’
Lida felt a pang of sorrow for her, and for the child that she had been.
‘Don’t pity me,’ Ava said with a rueful smile, sipping her coffee. ‘It means I might be able to help you.’
***
It took Lida hours to get to sleep that night. She did everything she could to hasten it - a warm bath, chamomile tea, reading The Eilin Histories in bed - but once she blew out her candles, she lay awake, tossing and turning, too aware to get comfortable. She briefly considered going to Mikal for some valerian, but thought it too late to disturb him; in the end, she threw open her curtains and looked up at the stars, finding all the constellations she knew and trying to remember the stories behind each one.
Eventually, she found herself in her green rock pool. She embraced it, twisting and turning in the water like an otter, revelling in the feeling of the water on her skin and through her hair. As usual, she dove deep to the seabed, rifling through the sand to search for shells. As usual, she turned to look above, watching the soft light shine on the rippling green surface.
Lida?
Ava’s voice echoed around the dream. She was somewhere higher up; Lida could feel her there.
Ava, she thought.
Lida felt her surprise, and without thinking, she reached out and pulled Ava to her.
Ava’s slim form cut through the water. Her face registered shock, and a moment of fear, before her black hair swirled around her face like a merrow in the old stories. She started to panic, gulping in a mouthful of water.
Ava, breathe normally. You’re not really underwater, Lida thought to her, alarmed.
Ava calmed herself with effort, pushing her hair back from her face. Lida, what is this?
Lida frowned. My dream.
Ava blinked, her blue eyes very wide. How am I here?
I brought you here, Lida answered, confused.
Ava shook her head in a cloud of black. I need to be higher up. Back where I was. Her mindvoice was uneasy.
Lida tried to smile reassuringly through the water. Let’s go up, then.
She took Ava’s hand and they swam towards the surface.
As their heads broke through, the dream changed.
They were in the grassland. Small horses with shaggy coats grazed nearby, apparently unconcerned by Lida and Ava’s sudden presence in their midst. A little distance away stood a small stone hut, covered with an old-fashioned thatched straw roof.
‘This is Erbide,’ Ava said, surprised. ‘Have you been here before?’
Lida frowned. ‘No,’ she said, after a long moment. ‘I’ve dreamed of this place, but I’ve never been to Erbide.’
The wind blew hard across the open fields; Ava caught her hair and twisted it away from her face, her brow drawn up in worry. ‘I think we went deeper. Let’s try again.’
She took Lida’s hand; Lida could feel her fingers trembling. The grassland dissolved, and they found themselves standing in a grand hallway of white marble. A mesh of elaborate silver candelabras lined the wall, and the coolness of it made Lida shiver. It felt oddly familiar; she curled her bare toes in the thick red Setiian carpet on the floor.
‘What is this?’ Ava hissed furiously.
Lida took a step back, letting go of her hand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How are we here?’
‘Ava, I’ve no idea where we are.’
Ava extended trembling fingers and slowly stroked the marble. ‘Gods,’ she swore, and snatched her hand back, balling it into a fist.
‘Ava?’ Lida reached out, but did not touch her.
Ava closed her eyes. ‘I lived here,’ she whispered. ‘Until I was five and we went to Kingstown. I used to play with my mother here - it was the only place inside where we could properly run.’ A tear trailed down her cheek. ‘It was the happiest I have ever been. This is my favourite memory.’
Lida took a sharp breath, remembering where she’d seen this place: in the valerian haze, when she’d first arrived at the Illarum. ‘She chased you and hugged you,’ she said, finally understanding. ‘Ava - I’ve dreamed this before!’
Ava opened her eyes, bright with tears, and stared at Lida, absently wiping her nose on her sleeve. It was odd, seeing her do something so human, like seeing a goddess trip up some stairs.
