by Vance Huxley
As Abel made himself comfortable and opened his book, Ferryl came in. “Do you mind? I want to look at the aquarium again.” She had become fascinated with the actual mechanics, trying to work out how the magical maintenance worked.
“I don’t mind if there’s someone in here while I study, I’m not like Rob. Though I’m curious about what you expect to see. You spend hours just staring through the glass.” That part puzzled Abel, because Ferryl didn’t seem to do more than look or occasionally raise a hand towards it.
“I’m tracing the magic controlling every aspect, and I think it’s one item working many glyphs. Magic is maintaining water circulation, the types of food for different species, keeping the tank clean, salinity, aeration and several other chores. I’d like to see the actual glyphs that can do that, and now I’m wondering if they are controlled by a wit.” Ferryl sat cross-legged on the floor near the fish tank. “Maybe not mine, because the whole point about wits is I can’t remember what is on most of them. If it isn’t mine, it will hurt if I put it in but could give me valuable information. I have lost so much.”
“Can I help?”
Ferryl looked almost embarrassed. “I could use Zephyr’s help in deciphering the flows of magic, but she will disturb you when we talk.”
“Zephyr, would you mind flying free for a little while, in here? So you can help Ferryl?”
“I can come back? I would like to understand the flows because the more I know, the better I can guard, but I do not want to leave you or my home.”
“The tattoo is always open, Zephyr. Fly free, wind with a name.”
“But a gentle Zephyr, no need for Ffod.” The connection tingled and disappeared and the shimmer headed for Ferryl, definitely a bigger shimmer since fighting the fursomnium. Abel wondered if Zephyr had absorbed some of the smaller scraps trying to get away at the end. She settled around Ferryl’s hand.
“Perfect, thank you. We can talk without words now.” Ferryl turned to the aquarium and Abel to his book.
∼∼
Abel read through the two chapters he wanted, then again, slower. This time he tried to work out how to turn the information into the thought patterns for a wit. Ferryl kept trying to explain better, but she found it difficult because the whole process seemed to be second nature to her. She claimed it was like teaching the colour-blind the difference between green and red. Abel glanced up at the thought, and kept looking.
Ferryl sat forward, intent, with the hand covered in Zephyr almost touching the glass. Her other hand moved in the air, palm towards the aquarium, following a strange bright blue swimming thing that seemed to have a starfish with long thin legs growing from every limb and its rear. There were also longer bits almost like tentacles. Abel had thought it must be magical but the internet called it Glaucus atlanticus, the blue sea slug.
The slug wasn’t holding his attention now, Ferryl was. Concentrating on her magic, with the soft light of the aquarium playing on her face, she looked both exotic and beautiful. Abel felt sure the effect was deliberate, because although some of the students and Taverners had African, Indian or maybe Far Eastern ancestry, none looked quite like her. Her skin wasn’t olive, more of a softer mid-brown, which with her full lips and those eyes definitely stood out. Abel had even looked on the internet under Egyptian eyes because he thought she’d created something unique, but Ferryl had told the truth. There were even a few faces that looked just like her, though he couldn’t be certain because they all wore makeup and Ferryl didn’t.
Ferryl turned towards him and Zephyr lifted from her hand, flying off round the room in a slow circuit to inspect the glowing globes that provided light. “Do you like me, Abel?”
Curses, she’d seen his reflection in the glass, gawking at her. Abel took a quick breath. “I’m sure anyone would tell you you’re pretty, deliberately so I’m sure.” He felt relieved to manage that without a blush. “Wait until you get to school and see how many lads want to help the new girl.”
That brought a little smile. “I told you, this face is like other faces I lived among for many, many years, which is why I chose it. I didn’t ask if my host looked pretty so does your answer mean you like me, Abel? Not just the face, me.”
“How many years, Ferryl, and who is the real you?” Abel didn’t want to answer the other question because it had to be a bit weird, fancying an ancient being. Abel seized on who Ferryl really was, because he’d often wondered. “Woods called you Spiritus qui Furbatur. It sounded Latin so I looked it up.” Ferryl looked a little apprehensive, but Abel ploughed on. It was long past time to find out. “It means spirit thief, and you said Huntian means hunter, a hunter who scares leeches bloodless.” He took a deep breath. “What does Braeth mean, and did someone scientific give you that Latin name or did the Romans?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask before.” If he didn’t know her better, Abel would have thought Ferryl was poised on the edge of flight. “The Romans named me, as did the Greeks and the Mongols, the Danes and many others, all with different names. Me and a very few creatures similar to me, or like I used to be. Braeth means breath. Breath Hunter, Spirit Stealer, do you need to know more?” Ferryl looked towards the door and almost stood up.
“Yes, I do. Why used to be, how have you changed? I have to assume those weren’t nice names.” Abel wondered if he should be ready to run himself. He was in a room with an ancient sorceress who stole spirits and hunted breath. Even so, he didn’t feel threatened. Zephyr slipped back into her tattoo and Abel shook hands without any real thought, intent on Ferryl.
“I told you it took me many years to learn how to use solid bodies, so I could save my memories.” A wistful smile touched her face. “Or I told Zephyr, the first life I have ever created. That I will never regret. Before that I lived on magic stolen from animals including humans, and from magic creatures. Some died.” Ferryl paused and braced herself before continuing. “The first animals I possessed died, either because I did it wrong or I couldn’t get out again. I learned, stealing magic from each host before moving on, then learning to live longer within them until eventually I could control them. I started with small hunters, usually cats because their thoughts are not complicated, before working up to humans. Once I could do that, I learned more about the world, and copied the leech’s method of making a bargain to get hosts. Though I always kept the agreement, if possible. I have always been hunted, so I dare not break my deals and leave a trail.” She stopped, watching Abel carefully.
“The church hunted you, from what Creepio said. But they don’t know who Ferryl Shayde is.” Ferryl nodded. “How come?”
“The church has my previous name, Braeth Huntian, a name I earned in the years following the Norman Conquest. You felt me pass to another host, dragging out all your magic and leaving you breathless?” Abel nodded, unwilling to speak and interrupt the flow. “A few hosts confessed to the church, about how I took their breath and left them helpless. Most of my names come from that sensation. Though when challenged I have killed sorceresses, witches and occasionally churchmen, sucking the breath from the weaker ones to taunt my hunters. I have also killed many types of magical creatures in self-defence, or for their magic, or sometimes because I wanted to remove opposition such as blood leeches.” She might be embarrassed or frightened, but Abel couldn’t be sure which. “I really am an inhuman monster.”
“Not necessarily.” It came as a shock, having it all laid out, but put that way Abel couldn’t see any other way to survive. “I can understand why you fought back, or hunted your rivals. Most of mankind did that, and some still do, so it doesn’t make you a monster. You are non-human, like a goblin or dryad, but not inhuman.” Abel tried to sort out why he wasn’t running for help, or horrified. “I know the church wants you, and Hunter on the Wind is fairly self-explanatory, but you don’t seem like some crazed mass murderer. You told Zephyr you stopped killing hosts when you worked out how.”
“Once I could think of such things, it seemed the clever thing t
o do. I even began to collect a small amount of wealth, mostly gold coins to make life easier when I changed hosts, but the sorcerer took all that. Wealth is why I came here. I heard about this house and its treasures, and wondered how well it might be protected. I am a thief of goods though I would rather steal knowledge, glyphs. I moved a long way away from here, changed hosts, gave myself another name and came back. It didn’t fool dryads, but they see more than most. Then I tried to break in here.” The rueful smile accepted that had been a bad idea. “I took weeks sneaking through the Dead Wood, and made it over the wall. I even crept to where I could study the house. Maybe I became too eager, maybe I missed a trip or a hidden watcher. The sorcerer set a trap and I ended up in the pit. One of my first tasks was redesigning the barrier, to make sure nobody else could survive in here by using another’s body as a partial shield.”
The answer would probably be gross, but Abel had to ask. “That thing you showed me really was your body?”
“My host, the last one, or a hint of her form using dust and a breath of magic. I broke my bargain with her. She never did get her new life and Celtchar tore pieces out of her living body. I shut her mind right down, so despite the holes in her bones she died peacefully.” Ferryl took a deep breath, obviously bracing herself for something. “I’ve been expecting this ever since you rescued me. I will leave. If you wish I will leave this host, or I will keep our bargain and make her some memories. They will not be the ones I intended.” She stood up.
“Sit down please, Ferryl. Why must you leave? We know you possess people and all that, but you’ve also helped them. You saved Jenny’s life, and Claris’s.” Abel opened his arms to include the room. “We’d have never got in here without you. You belong, a Taverneer.”
“Still?” Ferryl sat, but perched uneasily right on the edge of a seat. “Time after time I keep thinking one of you will scream and run away or denounce me. When I first appeared, or when I flew around in Kelis’s house, or when I terrified the leech, and so many other times.” Her little laugh sounded uncertain. “The real me flew out around that room, and you all offered me a home. Nobody gives me a home except as a bargain to save their lives. Then when I showed my true-self to the leech, Kelis found me a bed in her house and you used your legacy to buy me a new life.” Ferryl looked and sounded lost, uncertain, casting her eyes around the room without looking directly at Abel. “I don’t know what to do, how to repay that. I already owe you ninety years for my rescue.”
“Why not just keep on being Ferryl Shayde? Build memories and a new life for that poor woman as we planned? Be my friend? I don’t have enough to lose one.” Abel stopped and thought about that. “Though I seem to have more since you arrived.”
Ferryl finally looked straight at Abel, stood up and walked over to sit on the settee next to him. She reached out and took his hands. “I’ve never had friends, not even one. My hosts do, but their friends don’t know about me. Does anyone have friends for ninety years?”
“A hundred and ninety years? A thousand and ninety? Friend isn’t a bargain with a time limit, unless you stop wanting to be a friend.” Abel looked down at her hands. “I really should stop doing this, holding hands with your hosts.”
“I’d rather not.” He looked up at the humour in her voice and straight into her eyes.
“I thought you’d made those eyes bigger than they should be. They’re stunning.” Abel closed his eyes and mouth. Foot in big mouth, again.
“No, they are natural and normal where I came from. Though you finally answered the question about liking my host.” Her hands squeezed a bit and Abel heard humour and maybe a little tease in her voice. “Now you also know me, the real me. So, Abel, do you like me?”
“Of course, but you’re an ancient sorceress. It could be glyphs or anything.” Or a girl sat too close and Abel’s face started heating up.
“Why do you always do that with girls, try to avoid them or make a joke if they get near? I understand about Kelis and the link, but what about Jenny and Claris? As far as I can remember, a young man like you shouldn’t have been so reluctant to kiss them.”
Abel glanced at her face, and those eyes, and away again. “They weren’t in charge. Of themselves.”
“I was completely in charge of myself at the New Year dance, but you still worried about touching my back. You wouldn’t kiss me, or anyone else, until Claris bushwhacked you.” Now when Abel glanced he could see a little sparkle in her eyes and her voice had definitely started teasing him a bit. “After that you kissed some of the others, properly, and I thought you had got over it. Then you froze again when you realised I was kissing you the second time. Though I did get a proper last dance, which was really nice.”
“Still possessed.” Abel knew he’d mumbled that, but he daren’t admit he’d enjoyed the kissing. Even the one at the end, after the last dance when he knew exactly who he’d kissed. Abel closed his eyes because even if Ferryl had aimed at ordinary, he thought she looked stunning. He couldn’t look in her eyes and lie.
“No I’m not, or not really. I didn’t truly realise until the dance.” Ferryl stayed silent for a long time, and if she hadn’t been very gently squeezing his fingers Abel would have thought she’d finished. He certainly had no idea what he should say. “I have never known true friendship, or cared for another being. I’m not sure I know how to. When the host meets another person she gives me a reaction to use, to respond with, one I can alter if I wish. Not an emotion. I’ve never tried to understand emotions, because there would always be a new set that clashed with the old.”
This time Abel thought the silence needed some sort of answer. “You laughed with us, and joined in the Glyphmistress celebrations. You seem happy or nervous sometimes, even while you lived in the tattoo.” He smiled just a little. “You are definitely proud of your command of wind glyphs.”
“But that was how any host including Jenny or Claris would have felt, or so I thought.” This time when she fell silent Abel opened his eyes to look at her but Ferryl seemed sunk in her thoughts. She raised her head and Abel quickly looked down at their hands. “When I lived in the tattoo, I thought maybe I used your reactions. Now I’m wondering, and if all the ones with Jenny and Claris were totally theirs. I’ve been living among you, among people who knew who I was and spoke to me, not the host. I think some of my responses might have been me.” Her hands gripped a little tighter. “I have to have my own emotions now, somehow, because this host feels nothing but blind terror. I’ve blanked that out.”
Startled, Abel looked up, straight in her eyes but he still managed to get out, “But you’ve been showing emotions, haven’t you?” He dropped his gaze to their hands. Slim hands with long fingers, their skin dark against his, and he really didn’t want to start thinking Ferryl’s hands were beautiful. He’d end up wearing a blindfold or avoiding her entirely.
“At the dance I tried to enjoy it as she would and couldn’t. There was nothing to use, so I tried to enjoy it as me. It isn’t easy, but I think I had a good time.” Her hands gripped tight, and her voice hardened. “I must learn! This host shouldn’t be left with memories but no emotions. I have to learn how to like.”
“You don’t like anyone?” Abel felt a definite stab at that. He’d counted Ferryl as a friend, and thought she liked him, Rob and Kelis at least.
“Without any real comparison I’m not sure if I do, or just copy what I think I should feel. The hate and excitement and triumph in the fight with the fursomnium felt right, because I have fought all my life. I felt real pride in fixing the vase, even if I lied about how I learned. It’s the same affinity glyph I used to gather gravel, but more controlled.” Another of those silences fell, but this time Abel wasn’t going to open his big mouth. Ferryl didn’t even like any of them? Except Zephyr though she’d hadn’t said like, just no regret. “But looking back, I find times when I didn’t want to disappoint you, any of you, and wanted to help. Not just because of our agreement. I am certain I felt something at the end of the d
ance, something that was only me.”
Lost in thought Abel almost missed the words, and took a second to understand. “After the fight?”
“When we followed you out to meet the dryads, I felt worried. Not for me, but for everyone, for all the trouble they would be in if it didn’t work. I wanted to burn a tree to get an agreement for you.” Her soft exhalation wasn’t quite a sigh. “Then pride, in you and when we fixed everything, and then excitement as midnight came near. I’m sure I really enjoyed it, as me. Which is a real problem.”
“How?” Abel looked up and this time he kept talking. Ferryl looked worried, and a little frightened. “Surely that’s a good thing? That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Ferryl actually glanced away, avoiding his eyes, a whole new experience for Abel. “But I couldn’t stop, I kept dancing and laughing. Then you kissed me, and then Shawn did, and others, and everyone gathered round and laughed and cheered, and I felt as if I cared about you all. I wanted to be your friend.”
“Then you are. It’s not that hard.” Abel almost spoiled the whole thing by laughing, because he’d only ever had two really close friends before Ferryl turned up, Kelis and Rob. Even now he couldn’t really take in how many people smiled and said hello when they saw him. “If I can learn, so can you.”
“Could you help me? This woman will need more memories than the dance.” Ferryl turned her head to look at him but Abel glanced down, then wished he hadn’t. “When I said I wanted to be your friend, I meant it. Not just as one of the group. I have to learn to let someone get closer.” Ferryl laughed but it was quiet and brittle, nerves, not humour, which meant she’d found another emotion. Unless all this was her pretending, Abel realised.