Whispering Twilight

by Melissa McShane

  Bess lay on the pallet and contemplated her situation. It was too dark for her to try to escape, and those men were probably posted to guard against that event. She did not believe she could sleep, tired and achy as she was, because her mind was thronged with questions. Why had they taken her? Where was she now? And, most urgently, how could she return home?

  Miss Hanley. Is it not rather early for you?

  Bess gasped. Mr. Quinn! I did not realize…I apologize for disturbing you.

  I did think it an odd request, asking me how you might return home. Are you not on your way to Lima?

  Bess choked back a giggle that threatened to turn into tears. I—my journey has taken an unexpected turn. I have been kidnapped. I no longer know where I am and I believe I am surrounded by enemies.

  Dramatic.

  His laconic reply filled Bess with unexpected anger. I assure you I did not share my plight to arouse your sympathies, or to make myself the heroine of a tragedy. I am tired and I am afraid and I do not need your…your sly dismissal of my situation, as if it meant nothing!

  There was a pause during which Bess wiped away furious tears. Then Mr. Quinn said, I meant no disrespect, nor did I intend to make light of your situation. Your difficulties are such as I can barely imagine. And yet…

  Bess waited. And yet what?

  At the risk of seeming insensitive, do you not see that your perils are quite the stuff adventure novels are made of? Shipwrecked, cast adrift, kidnapped…if you were to tell me your captor is a tall, dark, brooding German Graf intent on trapping you in a tower until you agree to be his wife, I would not be at all surprised.

  The image was so ludicrous Bess could not help but laugh. I am in grave danger, and that is the response you make?

  It eased your fears, did it not?

  Bess realized it was true. Thank you, Mr. Quinn. I believe I can look at my situation more rationally.

  I am glad to assist you. How else can I help? You again do not know where you are?

  No, and this time I have no idea in what direction I traveled or how far, only that I am no longer in the place I went to sleep. Bess summed up what had happened since they last Spoke, and ended with, I do not actually know that I am in grave danger, and those men treated me with respect, but I cannot help imagining some dire fate awaiting me at dawn.

  That seems to me something you cannot control. I believe you should not let it trouble you. Attend, rather, to what you know. They provided for your comfort, in a room that is unlikely to be a cell, therefore it is more likely they consider you an honored guest.

  But if they kidnapped me—

  I agree that raises a number of questions. But my point is that you can likely sleep easily rather than fearing the worst.

  Bess sighed. I feel too tense to sleep. But I believe you are correct.

  Sleep will come. You have endured too much not to need rest.

  You are correct about that as well. Mr. Quinn, thank you. You did not need to put yourself out for me.

  Mr. Quinn laughed. I find myself intrigued by your plight. It is far more interesting than what I had planned for this day.

  Oh? And what was that?

  There was silence for a time. I choose to maintain my anonymity, Miss Hanley. Do not take offense.

  His refusal disappointed her, but she said, Of course not.

  Sleep well. The connection terminated with the abruptness she was coming to expect of Mr. Quinn’s communications, a sharp twinge in her chest rather than the usual hollow ache. Perhaps he truly did know nothing of Speaker etiquette.

  Bess closed her eyes and tried to relax. It occurred to her to wonder why she had, twice now, contacted Mr. Quinn without intending to. Thrice, if one counted their first interaction. She was an experienced Speaker, and until now had never Spoken to anyone without deliberately choosing to. There must be something different about Mr. Quinn, but she did not know what. I must tell my reticulum what has happened, she thought, but all at once tiredness swept over her, and she slept.

  Chapter 7

  In which it is uncertain whether Bess is captive or guest

  When she woke, the torch had gone out, and she was once more in total darkness. She lay on her pallet and squeezed her eyes shut, saying a few vulgarities she had learned from her brother Edmund. Now that she was well-rested for the first time since arriving in this country, she felt, not distress, but anger. How dared these people kidnap her?

  Following hard on the heels of anger was curiosity. Why had they kidnapped her? She knew nothing of Peru or the customs of its native inhabitants, but possibly they were in the habit of abducting Europeans for…her imagination stuttered to a halt. They had treated her too well, as far as that went, to mean her harm. Unless this was a situation like in stories, where the sacrificial victim was given all honor and riches before being sacrificed. Bess shuddered and decided not to dwell on that.

  Clarissa, she Spoke, what news?

  Immediately, Clarissa replied, I apologize for not Speaking to you sooner, but the Seers have not yet determined what happened to you. What can you tell me of your surroundings?

  It is a stone building of unusual construction. Or a series of buildings surrounding a plaza. That is all I perceived last night. Is it morning? I have yet to venture out of this room a second time.

  It is approximately nine in the morning where you are—oh, Bess, that is foolish of me. You might be anywhere in the world.

  Her candid assessment filled Bess with dread. She might have been carried elsewhere while she was unconscious, or Bounded somewhere, and in either case, she could not assume she was anywhere near the stream where she had slept. I will explore, and see what I may discover, she told Clarissa, and nearly laughed at how much more certain her words sounded than she felt.

  I will contact you the instant the Seers have news, Clarissa said, and the connection ended.

  Bess felt around until she found the drinking vessel she had seen the night before and drank from the long clay pipe extending from it. The water tasted stale, but she was thirsty enough not to care. Then she sat and listened. She heard no sounds from outside her chamber, nothing to indicate that others had risen or were moving around nearby.

  Slowly, her body aching from its exertions of the previous day, she rose and stretched. Her gown was in a sorry state, stiff with salt and rainwater, and her hair was a tangled mess. She combed through it with her fingers before giving it up as a lost cause and arranging it in an awkward braid, tying it with a ribbon from her sleeve. She would soon be sadly short of ribbons if she continued to need them for other purposes. She brushed off her skirt and hoped she did not look too terribly bedraggled. Then she followed the wall with her hand until she again found the doorway.

  This time, the end of the corridor where it took a sharp right turn glowed faintly. She followed the light down the stone passage and out a square doorway until she was outdoors once more. She glanced behind her as she exited and discovered that the stone wall in which the doorway was set was not much taller than she was. Full day had come, and it felt like morning, though the diffuse quality of the light suggested the sky was overcast. She smelled again the scent of fresh loam, though she could not guess where it came from as she appeared to stand on solid stone. Invisible birds winged past, high above, calling to each other in shrill voices that echoed as if they flew through a canyon.

  Bess stood with her hand on the doorway, uncertain, now that she had left the room that offered some small security, where to go next. She saw, at the limits of her vision, movement as of people walking. Some of them drew nearer, their outlines growing clearer. Bess’s hand tightened on the stone of the doorway. Her earlier anger and defiance melted away. She was ignorant, she was nearly blind, she could not even run, and she had never felt so helpless in her life.

  The three figures approached closely enough that Bess could see they were female, their long black hair braided and hanging down their backs. They wore the same short robes Bess had seen on the men
the night before, but under those they wore longer gowns of pale, thin fabric that came nearly to their ankles. They stopped too far away for Bess to clearly make out their features, and one beckoned to her to follow.

  Bess thought about resisting. They might take her into danger. But staying in the room would gain her nothing. She nodded. The three women turned and walked back the way they had come. Bess followed.

  The tingling of her temples alerted her to someone’s Speech. Maria said, Are you well, Bess? What news from Miss Emrey?

  Bess had to stop herself from tilting her head back and closing her eyes, which would certainly cause her to trip and fall. Maria, I have been kidnapped by natives and I do not know where I am.

  Maria’s horror came through the connection as clearly as a ringing bell. Bess! Are you still in Peru?

  I do not even know that. I suspect I am, but all I can say for certain is that these are not the natives of India, which are the only ones I am capable of identifying.

  What time is it? Can you see the sun?

  Bess cast about, as they walked, for some sense of her surroundings. It seemed to be a plaza of sorts, the stone floor cool against her bare feet, surrounded by a wall pierced by darker openings. She looked skyward and said, I believe it is morning, but I do not know the hour.

  That is unnecessary. It is gone three o’clock in the afternoon here, and if it is morning where you are, you cannot be far from your last location. Well, I say ‘far’ but that is merely in the absolute sense—

  You relieve my mind.

  In the direction Bess’s guides walked, a grey mound rose tall and menacing—too high to be a hill, too low to be a proper mountain, and yet it dominated the skyline. As Bess continued toward it, more detail became clear; tucked into the base of the mountain was a stone edifice, darker grey than its rocky guardian, all right angles and high walls. The smell of smoke, of cooking meat, drifted to Bess’s nose and awakened her hunger. She hoped there was food where they were going, though in truth she could not imagine anyone living in that pile of stone.

  Bess, who have you told? How can I help you?

  Bess blinked away unexpected tears at Maria’s solicitude. I will Speak to—no, wait. The three women passed through an opening in the wall that led to a short, grassy plain. They are taking me somewhere. I will Speak to you all later, Maria, but for now I need my undivided attention.

  Understood. But if I do not hear from you in an hour, I will batter at you until you tell me you are well.

  Even the hollow ache following Speaking could not stop Bess from smiling at this.

  She and her guides left the stone of the plaza behind for a path of packed earth crossing the plain that felt nearly as hard as the stone. Bess imagined hundreds of thousands of feet treading over the path over hundreds of years. Her feet were already sore from walking the day before, and she wished more than ever for sturdy, protective boots. A stiff breeze came up, fluttering her skirts, and although it was warm and smelled of sunshine, Bess shivered.

  Ahead, a dark doorway loomed, tall and wide enough to admit three people walking side by side. The women, however, entered single file, with one lingering behind and gesturing to Bess to precede her. The hallway beyond was dimly lit with oil lamps that hung at intervals along the wall. They smelled smoky, like rancid fat, and the odor permeated the space and wrapped Bess in its oily warmth. Despite the width of the corridor, Bess felt claustrophobic. She walked faster, stumbled over the uneven ground, and fell to one knee.

  The women hurried back, exclaiming and helping her to her feet. It was the first they had spoken to her, unless they were speaking to each other, but in either case their words, incomprehensible as they were, calmed Bess. She was not alone in a dead city, and she was not about to be entombed there.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, then imagined the building as she had seen it, Speaking the picture to their minds, and adding an image of blank nothingness to indicate uncertainty. Communicating without language was so challenging.

  The women stepped back. One of them gasped. Then they began chattering wildly. Bess felt foolish. She had no reason to assume these people had talent, or would expect to receive Speech from the foreign woman.

  “I beg your pardon,” Bess said, silencing them. They eyed her as if they expected her to once again invade their minds. Frustration filled her. She did not even know what gestures indicated apology in their culture!

  Bess, what news? Honoria asked, startling her.

  One moment, Honoria. Bess had never been good at carrying on a Spoken and a verbal conversation at the same time. Disoriented, she said to the women, “I do not know how to make you understand me.”

  One of the women, whose wrinkles proclaimed her much older than the other two, said something. An image came to Bess’s mind, faint but discernable, of a square room, the walls covered with intricate figures. Something wavered at its center. Then the image was gone.

  Bess blinked. “I beg your pardon,” she said again, “I did not realize one of you was a Speaker. You mean…that is where you are taking me?” She envisioned the room and Spoke the image to them.

  This time, they gasped in unison, and then to Bess’s surprise they bowed, hands palm to palm before their chests, their heads low. The light of the oil lamps flickered over them, casting strange shadows that made their faces seem distorted.

  “No!” Bess exclaimed. It felt like receiving the obeisance due a prince. “You need not—”

  The Speaker woman rose, followed by her companions, and said something that was accompanied by another flash of an image, this one gone too quickly for Bess to make it out. She bowed again, less deeply, and gestured to Bess to follow her.

  My apologies, Honoria, Bess Spoke. I am free now. But my situation has changed. I have been kidnapped by the native people of Peru and I do not know where I am at all.

  Oh, Bess! Honoria’s horror made the connection between them vibrate. Why did they kidnap you?

  I do not know. I have spoken to Maria, but there has been no time to tell anyone else. And I know so little, I feel I should not waste anyone’s time.

  Do not be ridiculous, Bess. It is not a waste of our time to know you are in danger, even if there is nothing we can do.

  Her words warmed Bess’s heart. Thank you, Honoria. I will Speak to all of you later, but now—they are taking me somewhere, and I need to watch my step.

  Until later, then.

  While she Spoke to Honoria, Bess and her escorts had walked some distance down the windowless corridor. Bess wondered if they had gone far enough that they were now beneath the mountain. The thought chilled her. Though she had no fear of heights, the idea of a mountain bearing down on her, all that weight pressing in, trying to crush her…she forced herself to contemplate something else. She had never received Speech so faint and could not guess what had caused the difference. Certainly there were Speakers whose Voices were stronger than others, but there had always been a fundamental quality to the Speech of everyone she knew, and this had been much different.

  After a time, they came to a T-junction where the path ended. Bess’s guides turned left. This passage was much shorter and sloped upward, coming out on a landing with a large window opening, a passage extending to the left, and another ramp leading up and to the right. Bess stopped to look out the window, which was big enough she could have stepped through it, but saw only grey and green smears. The women waited patiently, and Bess once more received the image of the colorful room. Then they indicated she should follow them down the passage.

  This one was lit by small, slit-like windows, and Bess breathed more easily, because it was clear she was not under the mountain. Flickers of movement that were birds flying past made shadows on the inner wall. How high were they, then? She had not got the impression that they had ascended very far. A momentary impatience with her visual impairment filled her before she quashed it. There was no point in bemoaning what she could not mend.

  Bess, Clarissa said.
Are you well?

  Unexpected relief swept over her. I am well. They are taking me…I do not know where it is.

  The Seers are still attempting to locate you. The best they can do so far is to say you are nowhere near your last location. You must have been Bounded away.

  I did not realize the natives had talent. I believed them to be like the Iroquois, fierce and powerful in their own way. Yet I have encountered several Speakers already, so a Bounder is not so impossible.

  Clarissa’s worry made the connection between them twang like a violin string. You have no idea why they kidnapped you?

  None. I hope an explanation is forthcoming. She did not say that she feared, when she permitted herself to fear, that the explanation might come violently.

  Do not fear, Bess. The Seers will Dream your location, and then we will make a plan. I will Speak with you later.

  The connection ended so abruptly, shriveling and dying like burning linen, that Bess felt even more hollow than usual. But Clarissa had a position of great importance and responsibility, and no doubt Bess was not her only preoccupation.

  She had been paying attention to Clarissa’s words rather than her path and was surprised when the women stopped before a curtained doorway. The curtain was brightly patterned in gold and blue zigzags and moved slightly in an faint draft. Bess smelled water tinged with minerals.

  The woman who had Spoken to her drew aside the curtain, and one of her companions entered. The third woman, tall and gawky, gestured to Bess, indicating that she should follow. Bess ducked through the opening and walked forward.