Later, the three of them waited uncomfortably for Conti in the study. The sun had just set, and William lit several thick beeswax candles and set out his writing supplies on the table. Her own preparations had been lengthy but pleasant. Maria had drawn a bath in the great tub. She sat soaking in the warm water, fragrant with dried lavender. Maria washed her hair with a mild soap and rinsed it several times. Nadira closed her eyes with pleasure. When the bath was over, Maria dressed her in a clean white gown. “What is next?” Nadira asked.
Maria indicated a small wood bowl filled with a dried herb. Nadira reached a languid arm out and brought it to her nose. She did not recognize it. It smelled somewhat like camphor, but much more pleasant.
“What are you to do with this?”
“I’m to brew a rich infusion, then strain it, then pour the cooled water over your head and into your hair, then carefully allow your hair to dry without rubbing with cloths.”
“He doesn’t think I have the scratchies, does he?
Maria had laughed. “Nay, I thought the same thing and told him so. He thought that was funny too. No, this herb is for some’t else.”
Conti entered through the trap, ending the reverie. Several servants accompanied him carrying a number of items in baskets and crates. Conti had them set their bundles near the table. Nadira watched as one man set down an impressive wine jar and four cups. Conti gestured for the men to hurry. He shifted until they filed one by one down through the hole in the floor. Then he closed and locked the trap by putting a bar through two iron rings in the floor. They watched unspeaking as he moved the table to the center of the room and placed a waist-high candle rack at each side of the table. William moved to place a thick yellow pillar on each stand and lit each one.
“If you would, please be seated.”
Montrose sat on the bench and pulled Nadira into his lap. William sat across from them.
Conti drew some items from the baggage near the table. First, he set a short wide candle in the center of the table, then a large, shallow black pottery bowl next to it. Into the bowl he poured a greenish brown liquid from a spouted pot. The odor escaped immediately filling the room with a rich, but sharp scent. Nadira recognized the herb in her hair rinse. It made her eyes sting in this concentrated form. Montrose sneezed.
“Mugwort.” William poked a finger into the liquid. “Fascinating.”
“Do not get too close, yet,” Conti warned them. “I’m not ready.”
He pulled a heavy sack from the floor and set it on the table. Carefully he pulled a fragile covered ewer out and placed it near the candle. Next came an earthenware cup with no handle and an hourglass. Lastly, he pulled out a smaller sack tied with string. He bent to carry the crates to the wall of the tower and pick up a book from its place on the shelf. He brought it back and set it carefully beside the other items, and then stood back, hands on hips surveying the setting. William poured wine into each of the cups.
“Yes, that’s it.” Conti nodded to himself. He remained standing as he lifted the tiny lid from the ewer and poured a viscous brown fluid into the cup. Nadira felt all of Montrose’s muscles go rigid around her. His arms tightened and he put his cheek to the side of her head. His breath labored in her ear. She squeezed the arm that encircled her waist, reassuring him. Conti handed the cup to her, his brown eyes danced with excitement; there was a flush to his cheeks above the grizzled beard. Nadira took the cup and looked into it. It smelled like dirt. With a grimace she drained the cup, gulping quickly so as not to taste it. Montrose squeezed her tighter.
Conti smiled, then handed her a cup of wine. “To take the taste away,” he said. Nadira downed the wine as well, though the taste of the elixir was not as bad as she expected.
“What now?” she asked. Montrose was hurting her; she wiggled a bit to get him to loosen up.
Conti settled himself on the bench across from her. “You sit there quietly. There will be some time before it takes effect.” He reached across the table and turned the hourglass over. She felt a tingling in her middle, from the excitement, the wine or the elixir she did not know. Her eyes followed Conti around the table as he scribbled words on paper. William was deep in prayer at his end. Montrose was quietly grinding his teeth in her ear. Finally, Conti finished his notes and pushed the book across the table to Nadira. “Start reading here,” he indicated with a jeweled finger. “Tell me when the words begin to blur.”
Nadira complied. Conti had indicated a passage about peace being the natural state of being for mankind, and how violence and oppression were the forces of the baser instincts and to be ardently resisted. She droned on, the warmth of the large candles and Montrose’s body lulled her along with the low sound of her voice. As she read, the words began to swim together. She continued to read until they seemed to break apart into the individual letters, which then chased one another across the page and onto the table. She looked up.
“Good, good,” Conti murmured in low honey tones. “Listen to her, William, and write down every word. Nadira, hear the sound of my voice. Allow it to bring you back should you get lost.” Nadira heard the sound of his voice as though it were far away, or behind a closed door. She felt Montrose’s arms around her as though they were on fire. She resisted their burn, resenting the confining pressure on her body.
Suddenly she was free. She floated up to the ceiling of the tower and looked down. Three men were staring intently at a young woman in a white dress. Her mind felt thick and slow. How could she be so dim-witted? The woman in the white dress was she. She could not see as clearly as she wanted to. She thought, I’m too far away. As soon as the thought left her mind, she found herself hovering just over their heads.
Each man had a faint glow around him. William was shimmering blue, Conti a golden yellow, but Montrose emanated a disturbing ruddy brown. Every now and then, a flash of white would shimmer around his form. Fascinated, Nadira put out a hand to the woman in his arms. Her eyes were open, but not seeing. A faint white light surrounded her. Her hand went into the light and a shiver spread over the floating body. A thrill passed through her and her thoughts cleared. At the same time she saw the light around her other body thicken.
Nadira was filled with joy. Looking from man to man, she saw Conti’s lips moving. He was talking to her other body but she could not hear him. She reached out and touched the brown and red surrounding Montrose. Instantly she was overwhelmed with an intense terror. She pulled her hand back. It passed. Tentatively she stretched but the tip of one finger into that red maelstrom of swirling color. The heat of the fear passed to her finger and she realized with wonder that she was feeling Montrose, not herself.
This thrilled her as much as the floating sensation. By willing herself, she found that she could move. She stretched a hand to William’s blue light. He was excited and alert. Her hand moved to Conti’s golden light. He was full of joy and curiosity. The red lights of Montrose’s body drew her back with an intense swelling of pity and love for him.
Conti was still talking to the white form, his beard moving up and down. Nadira heard not a word. She reached her hand out again, allowing it to go completely through Conti’s head. Nothing. She touched his throat and felt a hum. She placed her hand through his chest and felt his heart beating. In her mind appeared an image of a book. It was large, but not thick, and in four corners were amber jewels, in the center the largest jewel of lapis. Nadira released Conti and tried to touch the image. Yes, she touched the beautiful book, it was smooth and cool, the jewels like little freezing bumps. When her hand was in the image, a thrill resonated in her middle. She clutched it with both hands, desiring it.
She felt a rushing and heard the sound of a gale in the trees. There was a sharp flash and she was no longer in the tower room. Where am I? She looked around. She was still hovering a man’s height above the ground. Around her were tall walls hanging with glorious tapestries. There was no boundary between the wall hangings and the space between them.
Nadira stared, fasci
nated before her eyes fell on a stand in the center of the room. The edges of this object, too, were blurry, but there was no mistaking the book on the stand. She willed herself closer, imagining the book in a larger image. There it was. She reached her hand out, but it went right through the cover. She felt the leather and the wood of its binding, heard the lowing of cattle and the rustle of leaves as though the book were alive. A shiver went through her. She had never felt such bliss before. It was as though there could be no more mysteries. Everything she could imagine was spread out before her like a spectacular feast.
As she was about to propel herself through the tall window, she felt a strong tug at the back of her neck. She frowned to herself, saying ‘no’, but it was no use. She knew she was being called back. In a blink of an eye, the whoosh of wind in the trees blew through her ears and she heard a sharp crack, like the ring of an axe on a cold day…she was back in her body, and sitting tightly between the knees of a large man.
She gasped.
“Nadira, speak to me!” Montrose’s voice was loud in her ear, the first sounds she had heard since the elixir took effect. She took a few deep breaths, feeling herself again. As her vision cleared, she saw first Conti, then William across the table. Montrose was kissing her head repeatedly with relief.
“I’m fine. Do not worry; I am well,” she whispered.
“It worked, didn’t it!” Conti’s exaltation was palatable. It seemed strange now to look at him and not see the golden aura about his form.
“Yes. What did I say?” She looked at William. Before him lay the creamy sheets of paper, blank.
“Not a word.” His weak smile trembled.
“What did you see?” Conti leaned forward eagerly. “Did you hear me talking to you? Asking you questions?”
Nadira smiled. She would tell it all, but first she turned and leaned back so she could see Montrose’s face above hers. She looked at him for a moment, he was pale, the blue eyes had become nearly black in the dim light from the candles. The eyes were moving across her, up and down.
“I am well, my lord,” she repeated. She put a hand to his lips. He kissed the fingers, closing his eyes with relief. “Don’t worry, so. I saw you, my lord. I saw you worrying. I am fine. Did you feel me telling you that?” she finished dreamily, remembering.
To Conti she said, “I saw you speaking monsieur, but could not hear you.”
“I was asking you to find the book. Did you see it…there?”
Nadira told them about her journey. Their eyes did not move from her face in the telling. She told them every detail, smiling with the recollection of the blissful state between worlds. The moon had set before she finished. Conti began tapping his hands on the table with glee.
“Let’s do it again!”
“No! Damn your eyes, you bastard,” Montrose’s weary voice lacked the energy behind the words. “Can you not see she is exhausted?”
Conti ignored the outburst and eagerly picked up the ewer. His face fell when he looked inside. “You will get your wish, Montrose. We will have to wait for next time. Go to bed, then. Meet me here tomorrow night. I will prepare another potion.”
William stood. Conti started up and captured her in a great hug. “Thank you, Nadira,” he said to her.
Montrose took her arm and pulled her away from Conti and toward the stair. They made their way quickly down to the next floor. Nadira still feeling a little like she was floating. The walls seemed to move out of her way as they descended. She was surprised to see Juan at her chamber door. The guard stood from where he had been lounging on the stones.
“Juan?” she asked.
“Monsieur has me here to keep you safe in your room,” he glanced at Montrose.
“I’ll keep her safe,” Montrose said shortly.
“Nay. Monsieur said she might wander out and fall. I will not leave this post.”
The two men stared at each other. Montrose opened the door and gently pushed her inside, too tired to argue. Maria met them at the door.
“Did it go well, miss?” she asked brightly.
“Yes, Maria. We are just very, very tired.” Nadira answered. The bed looked lusciously soft to her now. She climbed in, pulled the blankets to her chin. Montrose sat heavily on the side of the bed. Maria came over to help him remove his boots. One by one, Nadira heard them drop to the floor. When she closed her eyes, she still saw colorful swirls and patterns before them. She watched the pretty shapes float to and fro. She felt a little light-headed as well. She seemed to roll back and forth, as Montrose shifted, removing his outer clothing. Without opening her eyes, she could see Maria carrying his breeches and jerkin to the chair by the fire. The sounds tasted sweet and a little spicy. She licked her lips, floating.
Her dreamy reverie was interrupted as Montrose joined her beneath the blankets. She sighed as he caught her up in his arms. She snuggled against his chest, the wiry hairs scratched her cheek, but it was a good scratch. She sighed again with pleasure.
“Were you frightened?” he asked softly.
“No. Not at all,” she answered.
“Not even when you were hanging above our heads?” He was incredulous.
“No. It was great fun. I’m eager to do it again.”
“I’m not,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE next night found them in the same situation: again Nadira drank the dirt-flavored elixir and a cup of wine. This time, however, instead of having her read from the book while she waited, Conti wrote a series of questions in large letters on William’s paper.
“Since you cannot hear me when I speak, try to read this instead.”
Nadira looked at what he had written. ‘Where is the book?’ and ‘Who is using it?’
“Can you write a question for me?” Montrose asked. Nadira and William looked at him with amazement.
“Certainly,” Conti was pleased to be asked.
“Ask where Alisdair and Garreth are.” Nadira watched Conti write in large block letters, ‘Where are Alisdair and Garreth?’
The letters began to link their serifs and dance. She laughed. As the room began its familiar spin, she leaned forward on the table, ready. Montrose quickly got up and took her in his arms again. She relaxed against him, letting her body sink down and fly up at the same time. Again! The thrill!
She looked about the room. Again, she saw the vibrant colors, but was disappointingly deaf. The three men were looking up at the ceiling, instead of at her white-clad body. She laughed, but it made no sound. Instead, she saw blue ripples emanate from her floating body and encompass the room. She laughed again, but then remembered her task. It seemed so pointless now. She wanted to go flying.
A movement caught her eye. Oh yes, monsieur wants her to do something. What is it? He wants me to go flying! I am a bird, she thought. White wings flapped at the corners of her eyes. Then she saw that movement again, that fluttering. It was Conti, tapping at a piece of paper on the table, looking up at the ceiling. He was getting so tiresome. Nevertheless, he was the one who had given her the potion. He was the originator of this wild ride. She swooped down and tried to read the paper.
The dancing letters would not hold still. She reached her hand out to grab them and make them stand at attention. Her hand went through the page, but as it did, her finger touched a large ‘A’. In that ‘A’ she smelled sweat and saw a flash of red hair. Yes, this ‘A’ was Alisdair. She thought about him, called his face to mind. He was the one always laughing and telling jokes. In her mind she embraced him, greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. There was a familiar whoosh and the blur of color before she burst out coming to a sudden stop over the tops of some trees in the moonlight. She looked down upon an army encamped by a large river. She brought the ‘A’ to mind and allowed her body to gracefully float through the trees to a large blanket held up with sticks. It had been raining, but it was clear now. Men moved back and forth among small campfires, she could hear nothing, but the images sharpened as she made the effort to look at
everything.
Before this small tent were two sleeping forms rolled in blankets before a dying fire. She peeked inside. The tent did not shelter their bodies, but their baggage. She reached an ephemeral hand into the nearest rolled form. Images exploded in her brain, battles, journeys, heat, cold, damp, some kind of ship voyage rolled her side-to-side, she felt a twinge of nausea from that image. The images flew fast by her, allowing her only a peek before metamorphosing into something else.
An image of a red-haired woman appeared. She was young and pretty, her face full of freckles and a wide, playful smile. Nadira saw her embracing a large man. They were laughing and rolling on the ground. Large fires burned all around their images. The man pulled her dress off then reached for her massive breasts. Nadira pulled her hand out of the roll. This must be Alisdair. Her body floated to the larger roll. A tentative finger pushed through this man’s head. She got the images of roasted meats and huge crocks of ale. This must be Garreth. Her heart expanded with love for her companions. They were with an army. Whose? My lord will ask when I get back.
She looked around, willed herself to rise above the trees again. She was learning quickly how to manipulate this environment. She closed her eyes and formed this thought, ‘whose army is this?’ An unknown force whirled her to a larger tent. This one had support poles holding sturdy canvas and was taller than a man. A pennant flew from the top post, blue and gold. The French. ‘Where are they?’ The flash took her inside the tent before a camp table where two candles burned on the edges of a rolled-out map. She leaned over the table, but as with the words back at the tower, these words and lines swirled and danced before her eyes.
She looked around the tent. The French commander lay sleeping in thick furs, a guard standing at his side. She moved her hand through the commander’s head. His dreams were of a delicate woman in green silk. She had smiling green eyes and golden hair not yet faded, though she was no longer young. Nadira pulled her hand out. How would she find out where they were? She concentrated ‘who can show me where they are?’ she asked. She shot like an arrow through the tent to the edge of the encampment where two guards stood leaning on spears gazing off into the river valley before them.
The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) Page 23