Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “I don’t know. Tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take you,” said Hope. “If Briar takes you, Mistress Pintuck will never let you pay her, because Briar was involved in helping to free the gnomes.”

  “Peripherally,” said Briar.

  “Not all that peripherally. And Mistress Pintuck ought to be paid. What time shall I come and get you? Midday?”

  “All right,” said Rosie. “We’ll probably be working. Interrupt us if you have to.”

  “Already figured that out.”

  Rosie refused to have a maid. Maids were too aggravating, and they made remarks. So since she had reached physical maturity, nobody else had seen her undressed until yesterday, and here she was with her clothes off in front of other people for the second time in two days. Her blush spread down to the bottom of her ribcage.

  Mistress Pintuck was a plump middle-aged gnome woman with an unsmiling face and a thick accent. She walked around Rosie slowly, in both directions, then stepped up and poked her in the small of the back. Rosie straightened up reflexively.

  “Better,” said the gnome. “You are tall. Be tall.”

  “I don’t like being tall.”

  “I don’t like being short, but what can you do?” said the seamstress. “Stand up and look life in the eye. I will make you beautiful clothes, and then you can get a man, yes?”

  “I…um…”

  “Is that not the plan?”

  “Um, well…”

  “That’s the plan,” said Hope, who had escorted her to the little shop.

  “Good. Men can be idiots, but I think better to have.” She pulled out a tape measure and ran it over Rosie, calling out in Dwarvish to an assistant who sat just outside the tiny curtained booth. There would not have been room for four people, and Hope was pressed up against the wall as it was.

  “You are called Rosie?”

  “It’s my byname, yes.”

  “I make you into a rose. Beautiful. You have good bones.” Mistress Pintuck poked Rosie’s hip for emphasis. “Clothes on. Now we look at fabrics.”

  Rosie’s mother dressed her in tan and beige, and even her work clothes followed more or less that pattern, so she headed for that section of the rainbow of cloth on display in the long, narrow shop.

  “Come away from there,” said the seamstress. “Here is you.”

  Rosie’s eyes fell on an array of warm, soft colours. “Come, come,” said the gnome. “Touch. Feel.”

  Tentatively, she put out her hand, and stroked the soft fabric. “Oh,” she said.

  “Yes, oh,” said Mistress Pintuck. “Which you like most?”

  “This,” said Rosie, touching a dark pink, almost the colour of the brick walls at her distant cousin’s Rosewall estate. “And this,” a creamy peach. She spotted a rose gold, and indicated that as well.

  “Good, good. You have instincts, when you are not prevented to use them. More.”

  She found several other warm fabrics, and the little assistant made notes of stock numbers.

  “Now,” said the seamstress, “for contrast, green.”

  She found a soft, peaceful green, a bright spring green with a lot of yellow in it, like fresh oak leaves, and a dark green that set off the dark rose pink. She also, passing the creams and whites, brushed against a heavy linen and had it added to the list.

  “Good. Now. Design. I will give you shape.” She gestured curves in the air. “You have hips; we use them. Boobs not so big, but we work with what we have. Show beautiful woman on outside, then strong, clever woman inside is not always so afraid.” She shot Rosie a stern look over her eyeglasses. “When you need?”

  “When can you do it?” asked Hope.

  “Friend of Mistress Briar, Mage Hope, I can fit in. End of next shift-round for first pieces. Come back for fitting on Oneday. How many outfits?”

  Hope looked at Rosie, who looked back helplessly.

  “Money is not a problem?” asked Hope, and Rosie shook her head. “Two for each weekday, to start with, then. Some casuals for the rest day.”

  “I work on the rest day,” muttered Rosie.

  “All right, eight working outfits, then. She works in a lab, so practical as well as good-looking.” The gnome nodded briskly, as if to say, “I know my business.” Hope continued: “A couple of casuals for the evenings and for when she learns to take a rest day. Something to go out in?”

  “Will we need…?”

  “Dignified doesn’t go out, usually, but eventually you’ll want to, and I think he’d go with you. Something nice to go out in,” said Hope decisively. “You’re all right for suits if there’s a presentation or something, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How much for all of that?”

  The gnome figured in her head, and named a price which Rosie thought low, comparing it to what her mother usually paid for her outfits. “Half now,” added Mistress Pintuck. Rosie counted out the coins, and the assistant gave her a ticket.

  “Back same time on Oneday for fitting,” said the seamstress. “We do good for you, you see.”

  13

  Bondlink

  Patient thought he controlled his wince when he saw the airhorse, but Hope, holding his hand, said, “My headaches seem to be gone, and I’m perfectly safe to drive.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to. Come on, get on.”

  Lily was delighted with their progress, and pointed out that the more important nakedness had been the way in which Patient had opened up about his wartime experiences. “Such things are hard to talk about,” she said. “And that was exactly the right time. You’re doing extraordinarily well.

  “So well, in fact, that I think we can skip the next exercise and go straight to the one after that,” she continued. “The next exercise was going to be washing each other with the washer standing fully clothed outside the bath, but if you agree you’re ready, I think you can get in the bath together.”

  They exchanged rapid glances.

  “Remember,” said the mindhealer, “this is still aimed at exploration, not stimulation. Use the sponge, not your hands, and don’t linger, no matter how tempting it may be to do so. Plenty of talking, too. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Ah…” said Patient. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I, um, don’t know if I can keep…” My hands off her, he thought, but finished the sentence, “doing this.”

  “What is it that’s concerning you?” asked Lily, cocking her head in a listening posture.

  “I love Hope very much,” he said, “and I’m very attracted to her. It’s difficult to keep holding back.”

  Lily nodded slowly. “You’re concerned that this exercise might test your self-control.”

  “Yes. And I don’t want to trigger her.”

  “Hm,” said Lily. “Perhaps, in that case, we shouldn’t push forward so quickly.”

  “Can I say something?” asked Hope. Lily nodded, and Hope shot a glance at Patient, who said, “Of course.”

  “I’d be willing, if you wanted, to, um, relieve your tension for you.”

  Patient looked at her, trying to read her posture. He touched her hand, and caught a sense of reluctance.

  “No,” he said. “That’s not how things go between us. We move forward together, or not at all.” He felt her relax.

  “Patient,” said Lily, “you just touched her hand. What happened there?”

  “If I touch her, it’s easier to tell what she’s feeling,” he said. The two women exchanged glances.

  “Do you know,” said the mindhealer, “that when you were talking about telling your war story, you each, at exactly the same moment, put a hand out and clasped them between you, without looking at each other or fumbling?”

  “Ah,” said Hope. It was a pleased sound, and Patient, confused, looked at her for clarification.

  “We have the beginnings of a bondlink,” said his beloved.


  “What? But we’re not oathbound.”

  “No, or even promisebound, which makes it especially remarkable. I was expecting to get a decent link at our oathbinding — since I’m a Mage-Minor in mindmagic — but to get one now, even one that only works on contact, is unusual. And good news.”

  “Excellent news,” said Lily. “Not all couples get the link, and few get it so early. It’s especially remarkable given that you haven’t been physically intimate together.”

  “My parents have never had it,” said Hope. “I understand why, now, too, and I want to talk to you about that.” Lily nodded.

  “My aunt and uncle have a strong one,” said Patient. “She looks out the window before he turns the corner of the barn.”

  “How far is that?” asked Lily.

  “Oh, twenty, thirty paces?”

  “That’s a good range. What about your parents, Patient?”

  “They had it. They both always knew which room the other was in if they were in the cottage together. And — I know it’s a different thing, but when I was in the military I had a decent groupsense, I could tell where my men were and how they were doing when they were several paces away, even though we hadn’t been bonded long.”

  Lily smiled. “Well, then, I think you can trust that your bond is going to be a good one. As far as the exercise goes, do what you both feel comfortable with. I certainly trust you to work out between yourselves what that is. Now, Hope. You were going to tell me something about your parents.”

  In a dull voice, Hope outlined what her father had told her. Lily frowned.

  “That’s certainly a difficult background. Your mother was always cold to you?”

  “Yes. Or angry. And she warned me against men,” Hope said, sitting up straight with a sudden realisation.

  “What kind of things did she say?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember the details, but when I was going away to the university she predicted that I’d get involved with some boy and lose everything.”

  “Well, she was only half right, wasn’t she?” said Lily.

  “I suppose.”

  The mindhealer thought for a moment. “You’re familiar with time-trips?” Hope nodded.

  “What’s that?” asked Patient.

  “It’s a mindhealing technique,” said Hope. “You take someone back in their imagination to a time when they were hurt, and help them deal with the event better than they did at the time.”

  “That’s a good summary,” said Lily. “There’s a variation I’d like to try. When I was studying, one of my professors came up with it as an experiment. I don’t think he ever wrote it up, though. Also, I’ve never before worked with a couple who I thought I could practice it with successfully.”

  “What are you thinking of?” asked Hope.

  “Well, since your bond is so good already, and Patient may have some degree of mindmagic talent — albeit untrained — I wonder if we can have him present with you in a scene from your past, maybe one with your mother, so that you have someone who loves you there to support you.”

  “That sounds good,” she said.

  “What’s involved?” asked Patient.

  “It’s a trance practice. I’ll teach you the trance, it’s not hard, and then we’ll take you both in and see what may be done.”

  “But how does this trance help Hope?” asked Patient.

  “It’s a helpful fiction,” said Hope.

  “What’s that?” said Patient.

  “A helpful fiction is something that you know isn’t literally true, but that you treat as if it was true in order to achieve some goal or emotional state,” said Hope. “Like a metaphor or a fable.”

  “Oh. So we would be, what? Experiencing these events like a vision?”

  “More or less,” said Lily. “People’s experience varies, but you would, for the duration of the trance, be participating in these events as if you were present. The important thing is that you would have your current knowledge and abilities, both of you, and could intervene in the events to make them turn out more positively. And then, when you come out of trance, Hope would have that memory of an alternative past to draw on and change how she feels and acts in the present.”

  “That part is a well-known technique,” said Hope. “We did it a couple of times when I studied mindmagic. But it’s usually only the person themselves who can go back. I’ve never heard of anyone else being able to accompany them, except perhaps the healer.”

  “That’s what I’d like to try, though,” said Lily. “If you’re both willing.”

  “If it will help Hope, I’ll try anything,” said Patient, and Hope felt a deep love for him well up within her. She reached over and squeezed his hand, and nodded to the mindhealer.

  “I’ll want you holding hands throughout,” said Lily, “since that seems to help your connection. Are you comfortable in those seats?”

  They were, and Lily explained to them what they needed to do, took Patient in and out of the trance a couple of times to familiarise him with the experience, and then began chanting the spell to take them both into Hope’s memories together.

  “Now,” she said, when they had reported a deep trance state, “Hope, focus on the curse and let it take you back to its origins. Talk to us as you do so, so that Patient can go with you.”

  Hope felt for the curse in the centre of her body and imagined a rope tugging at her, pulling her into memory, into her personal history.

  “I’m travelling back,” she said. “I’m growing younger. Smaller. Oh. I’m a little girl, back in the islands.” Her surroundings came into focus. She was in her parents’ cottage, and the furniture loomed around her, much larger than the last time she had been there, as an adult. “I’m scared.”

  “I’m with you, love,” said Patient. “I’ll look after you.”

  “Is there anyone else with you?” asked Lily.

  “My mother. She’s scolding me. She caught me holding hands with my friend, a little boy. Cheerful Sawyer.”

  “How old are you?” said Lily.

  “I haven’t started to learn magic yet. Six or seven.”

  “What’s your mother saying?”

  “Boys are bad and dirty and they’ll hurt you. You shouldn’t hold hands with them, it leads to bad things. You can’t trust them, you should stay away from them. I don’t know why a boy would want you anyway, you ugly little girl, you’re bad-tempered and a whiner. He doesn’t want to be your friend, he just wants to get things from you that you shouldn’t give him.” As she spoke, Hope’s voice took on her mother’s sharp, pinched intonation.

  “Stop,” said Patient, in a calm, deep voice, his “I am in charge here” voice that he’d no doubt learned as a village warden. “Mistress Verity, that’s no way to speak to your daughter.”

  “What business is it of yours?” said Hope, in her mother’s voice.

  “It’s my business because I love her. When I hear words like that from your mouth, it seems like you don’t love her, and it’s the people who love us who get to say who we are.”

  “Who is she, then?”

  “She’s beautiful and clever and good-hearted. She’s afraid in life, yes, and sometimes she gets angry and impatient. That’s all right. That’s just the reaction of a moment. Underneath, she’s someone who deserves happiness and love. I don’t know why you can’t give them to her, but you have no right to prevent someone else from doing so.”

  “I’m her mother.”

  “No, you aren’t. You might have given birth to her, but you give up your right to mother her when you tear her down inside and tell her not to be happy, not to be loved. She can be happy and loved if she wants to, even if you’re not. It’s not up to you.”

  In Hope’s vision, her mother, towering over her, took a step backwards and turned her face aside, as if ashamed.

  “As for not trusting boys, you’re right,” Patient continued. “There are bad boys, bad men, who will take from Hope and not give. But there are good men, too
.”

  “He’s one,” said Hope, in her own voice. “He’s a good man, Mother, and you can’t say otherwise. He can hold my hand if he likes.” She squeezed his fingers.

  “I’ll always hold your hand, Hope,” said Patient. “Until we’re old together. I’ll always protect you, and I won’t hurt you.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “My mother’s left,” she said. “She didn’t have anything else she could say.”

  “Good,” said Lily. “Very good. You’ve done excellently, both of you. All right, now I’m going to bring you back to your present selves, here in my office in the year 547.” She began to chant again, and Hope felt her body return to adult stature as she left the islands and came back into the chair in the room in Illene. She opened her eyes and shared a glance with Patient, who smiled encouragement to her.

  “I think we’ve made great progress,” said Lily. She rose, and so did they, in the sleepy way of people who have been in deep trance.

  “Oh, before we go,” Hope said, “can I get another copy of your book? For a friend.”

  “Certainly,” said Lily. “Is your friend in a relationship?”

  “She hopes to be soon. And she’s rather… uninstructed.”

  “That’s what the book is for,” said Lily. “I hope it helps her.”

  Back at the flat, they snuggled on the floor cushions while their simple dinner finished cooking.

  “I love you,” said Hope, after a lingering kiss.

  “I love you too.”

  “I’m glad you spoke up about the bath thing, if it was going to be a problem for you.”

  “Well,” he said. “Last week was… intense. Not just… I mean, in more ways than one.”

  “I know. I trust you, you know?”

  “I do know that.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Let’s just have a quiet evening, shall we?”

  They washed the dishes together, chatting about neutral topics. At last, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Hope caught his eye.

  “What I’d like,” she said, “is to go to bed early so we can cuddle and talk.”