Alisiyad
Page 17
“No, trust me,” Eliasha shook her head. “Listen. I don’t know what is going on between you, I’ve just met you both and you obviously have some history together I can’t understand. But I’m serious, I think you should give her this, and you won’t be sorry. I’m not teasing you or flirting. I’m sorry I ever did. It’s my bad habit. I got you into trouble today and you have to accept this from me as an apology.” She shoved it at him.
“A-alright.” He let her drop it into his hands. The stone was smooth and cold, and the gold chain slithered through his fingers. He stared into the center of the teardrop for a moment, then blinked. “Thanks. I dunno what to say. This is . . . the nicest . . . .” He paused, suddenly afraid that he was going to get all soft and weepy on her “ . . . you’re nice. To do this for me.”
Eliasha looked at the floor. “To tell you the truth, I think that if I really wanted to be nice I’d warn to you get as far away from your Liseli as possible, instead of helping you entrench yourself.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll be okay. I want this.” He realized as he said it that it was truer than he’d thought. He almost wished that he could want Eliasha instead; she was nice. And thoughtful. And friendly. And concerned about him. This was the perfect time to get over Liseli. If he couldn’t now he never would, and that was a scary thought. He didn’t want to be like this his whole life.
“I know you do,” Eliasha reached for the curtains. “And Alisiya knows I can’t make you not want it. That’s why I brought you the necklace. Just remember—” she paused as she opened the doors and held up her hand, seeming to point to the ceiling, “—it’s a symbol of love. Don’t give it to someone you don’t.”
She left, and he walked over to the bureau, staring at the gem in his hands. It felt heavier. Everything felt heavier, his stomach felt like it was in his knees and his heart wasn’t far behind. His feet dragged. If Liseli didn’t like this present, he didn’t know what he would do.
Chapter 12 ~ Lavender’s Blue
When Liseli reached her room she noticed that her old clothes had been returned, neatly folded up and placed on the end of the bed. They’d been washed, and smelled like floral soap.
She put on a nightgown and crawled into bed, tired again despite the afternoon nap. She felt light and hollow on the inside but heavy and slow on the outside, like an empty ceramic jar. She needed sleep to clear her mind. The day had been a disaster. The whole week was a disaster. The month. The year. Her life. Her head was spinning and she buried it in the soft respite of the pillow.
Her feet were cold, and she drew her legs up, tucking her knees as close to her chin as possible and wrapping her arms around her chest.
Do you want to know how my parents died? The thought played itself over in her head.
As she drifted to sleep, slowly relaxing her limbs and falling away from reality, her mind swirled with pictures, sounds, smells, and feelings. The feeling of Russ’s cheek giving way to her hand as his head snapped to the side. His stubble tickling her face as they kissed. Eliasha’s laughing eyes. A bird flying from tree to tree. Smoke from the fire. Arlic walking down the stairs. Halla’s hands; red, but soft. The water rushing by, cold and sharp. Russ falling to the ground, unconscious. Martilia stirring the oatmeal. Her feet on the ground, one hill after another. The Child standing on the opposite bank. Its eyes were on her. She could feel them. Even now.
* * *
Standing. She had been walking, over the hills, through the knee high grass; the sun beat down. She had been all alone, nothing but fields all around. Green and blue. But it all became darker, and now she is standing, still alone, in the dusk. In a hall. Stone all around. The walls are hung with shifting lights, quiet yellow. She stands with hands folded, and head down. The breeze and the grass have come to a stop. “I cannot move, I will be stone. My eyes are shut.” But no one hears her speak, she is alone.
She only thinks she is alone. The halls are turning. There is a voice, a soft high voice, singing. A child’s voice, singing. “I know that song.” She listens; it moves her feet, down the halls, shifting yellow. Green and blue, all around. She knows who is singing, though she has never heard the voice before.
Lavender’s blue . . . dilly dilly
Lavender’s green
When I am King . . . dilly dilly
You shall be . . . Queen.
Who told you so? dilly dilly
Who told you so?
“I know that song. I know how it goes. How does it end?” Her feet are carrying her down the hall. Her head is down. Her arms are crossed over her heart. Her eyes are shut. It sings the song, over and over. Never answering the question.
Who told you so? Who told you so? She cannot remember. She knows the song. “I know that song. Dilly dilly.” The halls are turning. She turns with them.
Lavender’s blue . . . dilly dilly
Lavender’s green
When I am dead . . . dilly dilly
How shall you . . . dream?
Who told you so? dilly dilly
Who told you so?
“Where are you? Come out.” The halls lead out, the voice is nearer. She steps out, no ceiling, no walls. Pillars line the open way, and there is something at the end. The voice is still singing. She walks closer to the end; it is a bed of stone. Someone is lying on it. White skin, white dress, long black hair falling down. Thin white face. Sleeping. She is sleeping. Always sleeping. It is singing around her, but the song becomes broken and confused.
I don’t know . . . dilly dilly
I don’t . . . dilly
I don’t know
I do not . . .
The voice stops, trickling away into the dark. She stands looking down at the woman on the bier. “I don’t understand. What do you want? Who are you? Why have you brought me here? Hello? I know that song . . . .”
You have to leave.
“Why? Where should I go?”
No answer. The voice is gone; it has left her all alone, with the sleeping.
She turns around.
Everything is different, now. She knows where she is, though she cannot name it. It’s barely light, and she is standing on a road, at the bottom of a hill. The world is bare, it is a gray desert as far as she can see. But there is something on the road, several things lying along the path as it stretches up toward the horizon. She walks forward, looking down. She passes a hand, and the rest of the arm a few feet away. Other limbs lie all around, mangled and cut, staining the road with blood. Some look fresh, others are rotting in the gray sun. She can smell the rot. But there aren’t any flies or maggots, there is nothing alive. Only her.
She follows the road up the hill, walking between the body parts, some naked, some clothed in torn and tattered remnants, all lying on the ground as if they were thrown there. By someone. Something.
She pays attention to the clothes. One arm goes with another because both sleeves were once the same blue cloth, this pant leg goes with that one . . . those feet, yards apart, are wearing the same boots . . . . Who were they? Why are they dead? She wonders what she will find over the hill. She doesn’t want to find out, but her feet carry her toward the summit, as if there is no other place to go. And there isn’t. There is nowhere to go but up, the road disappears behind her, there is nothing but gray and the road falls away from her feet.
She is at the top. She looks around, and it does not look like she thought it would. She looks down at her feet and sees that the road and the gray are gone, and she is standing on a mound of heads. Some faces look newly dead, almost just sleeping. Others are like old Jack O’ Lanterns, rotting and crumpled, features lost together.
She picks up one head and cradles it in her arms. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Don’t cry, sleep now. I’m sorry.” The hill at her feet is green. All around are the fields, rolling fields, dotted with flowers. Green and blue. She has a bouquet in her arms, dilly dilly. “I’m sorry. Sleep now.”
* * *
Liseli’s eyes snapped open and
her arms jerked around her pillow. Her heart pounded and she couldn’t breathe. It took a moment of staring all around into the dark to realize where she was. In bed. In Arlic’s house. In Elharan. In Alisiya. She began to breathe again, in shallow gasps. A dream. What a . . . stupid dream. She pushed aside her blankets and sat up, rubbing her face. Her hands were cold.
Scattered images from the dream replayed themselves in her head. Nothing made sense, though the ending left her with a dry, sick feeling she couldn’t shake or rub away. She felt she should have guessed sooner that it was a dream, not real.
Though it wasn’t really unreal . . . not strictly false, no, not at all.
She didn’t know why she thought that, but the words lodged there. Not false at all. She shook her head, and blinked again in the darkness. I must not be all the way awake, I still feel weird. What she needed was some light, just to look around the room and be sure it was solid and real.
Liseli scooted over to the edge of bed and reached out into the dark, knowing her hands were shaking. She waved them around, looking for the table and the candle. It should be . . . .
A cold hand seized her arm, digging hard fingers into her wrist.
Liseli gasped and tried to yank her hand back, but the fingers tightened and held fast to her wrist. She flailed her other hand at it, striking an arm—long and clammy and cold, but unyielding. A pale light formed in front of her, slowly glowing white from the hand that held her. A white face looked down at her. Eye sockets, black holes, saw her. Liseli opened her mouth to scream, but there was sand inside. Nothing came out.
A woman stood before her, visible now in the pale light that gleamed from her skin. She wore a white dress, flowing in folds down to the floor. Painfully white. Long black hair hung down close to the face, framing the thin cheekbones and empty eyes.
The woman did nothing but stand, and clench her, as Liseli thrashed and struck at the hard frame. She was like a stone statue, looking down. Liseli tried to get up, but her legs were tangled in the blankets. She couldn’t get out. She stopped hitting with her free hand and reached down to fling the blankets away. At first they held her like arms, but she wrenched the covering away from her legs, and saw in the pale light hundreds, thousands of white maggots swarming over and around and between her legs. She couldn’t scream. She was all sand inside. They crawled and writhed, and bit her. She could feel their sharp teeth. Bleeding. And the woman held her fast, saying nothing, watching her struggle.
Liseli kicked wildly and fell out of the bed. Her shoulder wrenched in pain as she hung from the woman’s unmoving grip.
Help me, the woman spoke without moving her lips.
Liseli didn’t reply; instead she beat at the hard legs. They were like pillars.
Leave here. Go to the river. The River. It is the only way.
Then Liseli dropped to the floor, her wrist suddenly released. She fell forward, where the legs like pillars should have been, and lie prone on the cold stone bricks. Her arm throbbed in pain, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the grip or from hitting the stones. She stayed still, barely breathing. The room was dark again.
Chapter 12 ~ Lavender’s Blue, part 2
Liseli opened her eyes and pushed herself up, wondering if she had dreamed again and fallen out of bed. She ran a hand down one leg and felt no bites or clinging maggots. Taking a breath she rocked back onto her knees, sniffing a little in the dark and listening intently. Nothing felt amiss. She smelled nothing besides a strong reek of fear coming from her own self. Liseli had thought only animals could smell fear, but no. The scent was clammy, a sudden cold sweat evaporating quickly as she clutched her trembling hands together.
This won’t do, a stern managerial tone arose in her mind. It was only a dream. Dreams. Whatever. Even if they’re not strictly false, they’re not strictly real. You’ll never make it in real danger if this is how you react to that. And what would Russ think if he could see you now?
The self-lecture had begun to calm her, but it sliced with the last thought, and she tensed again. She had almost reached out her hand to test the contents of her bed, but she stopped. That was what had seemed so real about the first dream. She’d seen his face in the mound, though it didn’t look like his should. It didn’t look like any person’s should.
Dilly dilly. Stop that.
She hated it when her mind jumped at her; thought things she didn’t plan.
Liseli had always hated that old song, Lavender’s Blue, never knowing quite why. She hadn’t heard it in years — not since Leona had taken piano lessons — so she didn’t know why she’d dreamt about it. Why on earth should the Child be singing it? Maybe it wasn’t really the Child, though; maybe it was a memory of Leona singing along out of her piano primer book. You know that’s not true.
She shook her head, shivering, darting her eyes around the room. It was mainly out of nervousness; she didn’t sense anyone, or anything, nearby. The feeling of being utterly alone had become strong in the dark quiet after she fell to the floor. It reminded her of the rotting bodies, disintegrating alone. Oh don’t you dare think about that. This won’t do at all. Action, that is what you need. Do not let it stop you. She had been about to light the candle, she remembered.
“I’ll still light it,” she spoke out. She’d meant to sound resolute, in case anything in the dark was planning otherwise. Her voice croaked, and she fell silent. She groped over the table for the flint, wishing for some plain old matches or a cigarette lighter. But she got the flame to spark, and in a moment warm yellow light flickered out, dancing over the objects in the room. It was good to see the vague shapes; it helped mute the lingering dream images.
“I’ll leave,” her voice sounded better now. That was it. Yes. She felt as if the idea had just freshly occurred to her. Liseli took a defiant breath, which sounded more like a terrified gasp as it returned to her ears. No matter. She moved to the end of the bed and felt for the dim lump of her clothes. Her real clothes. Good, she thought with a self-approving nod. That’s better; that’s a plan.
She pulled on her pants, then hesitated about removing the nightgown. Right then there was no one in the room with her, but she didn’t want to be at a vulnerable disadvantage if anything ghoulish should stalk out of the shadows at her. So she carefully maneuvered into her bra underneath the nightgown, then rolled up the lower half the gown into a knot at her waist before buttoning her shirt over it all. She was starting to feel very good about the whole idea, as she put her socks on. She would leave. This place was bad but they could not keep her here. Intuition must have told her to leave.
She jammed her sneakers on, and fumbled over the laces with shaking hands. It seemed as if her hands weren’t a part of her — she’d talked herself into some confidence about leaving, but her hands trembled anyway. No matter. They were just hands. As she straightened and looked around the section of the room that was touched by candlelight, she felt as if she’d passed some kind of test — a test of her own making which one side of her had always scoffed at the other side passing. Ah, but no, she’d pulled herself together. She must have . . . because look at her now; standing, dressed, ready to take charge. Now she would leave. She smiled faintly, then picked up the candle and shuffled toward the door.
Liseli half expected the door to resist her, but it didn’t. She stood out in the hall and pulled it shut behind her without a sound. She found that she didn’t like the hall, especially not bathed in the yellow light of the candle. It reminded her of pulling, spinning, sucking scenes from her dream. More like a relentless vortex than a hallway. But she shook her head. Nothing was pulling her now, and she knew where she was going as she stepped away from her door. They were leaving.
Her feet made a gentle swishswish noise as she shuffled over the stones. She was leery about walking; she felt dizzy in the hall, as if the walls were warping and the floor might buckle if she stepped too fast. She held the candle out with her elbow at a right angle, as if that would hold the walls at bay. The candle sputter
ed; her arm was shaking. She gripped it with her free hand, holding her elbow tight.
She came to the end and stopped. She thought she remembered which room he’d been in, but couldn’t be sure. It was at the end of the hall, but which side was it? She thought the side opposite to her own door, but she glanced at the other side, pensive. Left or right? Remember!
Now what if there’s someone in both rooms? Russ in one and someone who won’t like to be woken up in the other. Or someone who shouldn’t know we are leaving. The lady or the tiger. The Russell or the Alisiyan. You know Russ isn’t a lady. Yes, I know, it was a—never mind. Just choose one. Alright, I’m choosing.
She thought that perhaps no one slept behind the wrong door — perhaps if she opened the wrong one she would lapse back into dream or find herself in a gray wasteland or maybe the right door led to the wrong Russ, the one who was not strictly real and not str— Enough. Just choose one, already.
She chose the one on the left side, but peeked in before opening it all the way. Moonlight lit the room — the pair of tall glass doors sat latched together in the far wall, and she could see out a little ways over the balcony. The bright squares of silvery white light that fell across the floor and the bed made her candlelight seem superfluous. Curtains hung on either side, pulled away from the glass doors.
Liseli inched into the room and let the door shut. The head resting on the pillow looked like Russ, and there was a sound of deep breathing in the room. So everything’s alright; you’ve picked the right room.
She sidled over to the bed, and held the candle over him. It was him. She nudged the edge of the mattress with her knee. It didn’t work. “Russ,” she hissed, “wake up.” After that failed too, she took her hand from her elbow — only then realizing that she been clutching it so hard no blood had been getting to her lower arm — and reached out to shake his shoulder. “Wake up!” she raised her hiss. Then she leaned over and spoke, clearly, into his ear, “Russell, wake up or s-so help me I’ll use the damn candle!”