“It sounded as if you two were in trouble.”
“Topher was being dragged across the ice by his foot and had become lodged between two trees,” explained Gaius, “but the buggers kept pulling.”
“Was that how he broke his arm?” asked Rachel.
“Nooooo.” Gaius looked as if he was trying not to laugh. “That was when he finally got to his feet and tried to chase after the red caps, shouting at them…and he skated over his own lace and fell flat on his face.” Gaius winced, but then he just gave up the struggle and burst out laughing. “I love Topher, but, man, that boy can be a klutz.”
Rachel also struggled not to laugh at the other young man’s mishap. “Isn’t Topher from Alaska, where they skate all the time? Maybe the fey were responsible for his laces being untied. They do things like that.”
“Maybe,” said Gaius, more seriously.
Then he burst out laughing again.
Rachel stepped away so she could see her boyfriend more clearly. Before she could speak, however, something came flying at her, coming out of the dark at high speed.
“Dongsaeng!” Her sister Laurel grabbed her up in a huge bear hug. Over her shoulder, she called in a cheerful singsong. “See, Peter, I told you she’d be all right. Everything is wonderful today. It’s like the world is surrounded by golden light.”
“Um…I better go.” Gaius winked at Rachel.
Rachel, who was still hugging Laurel, smiled brightly and winked back. Over the black bracelet, she whispered, “By the way, Gaius, you saved my life. Thanks to what you and William taught me about physics and turlu, I lived…when I otherwise would have been fried alive.”
Gaius’s face lit up. He threw her a huge grin and a thumbs up as he skated away.
Peter arrived, breathing heavily, as if he had been skating very fast. Reluctantly, Laurel let go of her little sister, but she stayed close beside her, leaning an elbow on Rachel’s shoulder.
“Rachel, you should not have scared us like that.” Her brother wagged his finger at her sternly. “I was beginning to fear that you had been eaten by the ogre.”
“The ogre’s dead,” Rachel replied seriously. “Siggy killed it.”
“What, really? The ogre with the charmed life?” cried Peter. When Rachel nodded, he asked, “And Sigfried Smith killed it?”
“He did.”
“Jolly good of him!” Peter looked quite impressed. “I say! Maybe we should all adopt this orphan boy as our blood-brother!”
“The bigger our family, the better,” sang Laurel, dreamily.
With her brother and sister beside her, Rachel found her boots and changed into them. Her siblings told her to abandon the conjured skates, which would vanish after twenty-four hours, but she refused, holding them close to her chest as they walked through the falling snow. The three of them trekked back toward the school, as part of a large group of students, surrounded by proctors and some of the White Hart members. The group chattered loudly, everyone excitedly exchanging stories. Most of their tales were of possibly having seen a pixie or of a boulder that whizzed by overhead. No one else reported having gone off into the darkness. Rachel stayed quiet, too overwhelmed by the evening’s occurrences to speak.
The snow was still falling, but the thunder had stopped. There was no sign of the Heer or the lightning imps. The students arrived safely back on campus, with only one run-in with a stray spruce troll that ran away as soon as it saw their lights.
Upon reaching Roanoke Hall Rachel was shocked to realize that it was only seven o’clock. She headed inside with everyone else for a late dinner and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Someone had enchanted the central fountain, so that flames leapt from it instead of water. Chilly students had gathered around it for warmth. Taking her hand, Laurel pulled Rachel over to the fire, and the three Griffins joined in toasting marshmallows and making s’mores.
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Forgotten Things
The next day, classes were canceled, and all dormitories were locked down, due to the danger of the wild fey free on campus. Rachel and her friends headed downstairs to study and talk in front of the fireplace in the cellar common room of Dare Hall. Sometime during the afternoon, to everyone’s relief and delight, the proctors brought Sigfried back to the dorm, his head swathed in bandages.
When Rachel returned to her room that evening, she noticed something unexpected leaning against the wall beneath the arched window. Despite all laws of sorcery to the contrary, the conjured silver skates with purple laces that Jariel had sized so perfectly for her were still there. Looking at them, Rachel somehow knew that they would never vanish.
A single black raven feather lay beside them. Rachel kneeled and snatched up the feather. Brushing its softness against her cheek, she recalled her most recent conversation with its owner.
• • •
Sneaking away from where her siblings had been singing campfire songs and roasting marshmallows the night before, Rachel had slipped out of the dining hall and gone to sit on the great staircase leading to the second floor, one of the very few staircases in Roanoke Hall that was not a spiral. It was chilly here, and the stone seemed to suck the heat out of her body. Seated on the marble, she hugged her arms and spoke over the bracelet. “Jariel, I have a question.”
“Yes, Rachel Griffin?” The Raven’s voice spoke just beside her ear.
“So, the awful truth about all this forgetting is that…” She took a deep breath, “You’re the one responsible, aren’t you? For all of it.”
“Responsible?”
“For things like why we can’t remember from whom the original founders of Roanoke Island were running? And all the other forgotten things, too. Like saints and steeples and friars and the disappearance of the wings on the statue of the angel? Those are all things you’ve made the world forget.”
The Raven replied solemnly, “The answer to all those questions is yes, Rachel Griffin.”
“Wh-why?” She asked, her voice warbling. “To fit people in? When you told Illondria that you changed memories to protect us, I-I assumed you meant things like making people forget that Gaius’s farm did not used to be there. Not…all this. Was it all to protect the Walls?”
“I—may not reveal any of his doings.”
“The Master of the World’s behind orphaned words, too!” Rachel cried. “He’s made you change the whole world?”
“Speaking on this subject would be in direct disobedience of my orders. But I can say this, that all the memories I have changed were at the behest of the one you call the Master of the World—directly or indirectly—or to protect the Walls. Save for one.”
This answer came from higher up and slightly to the right. Rachel spun around. Jariel stood at the top of the first flight. He was shirtless, holding his halo in one hand. His black wings, half-spread behind him, filled the entire landing. His eyes were red as blood. Rachel scampered to her feet and ran upstairs. She passed the landing and continued four steps up the next flight, until she was closer to his height.
“Except for one?” she asked, breathlessly. “Can you tell me about that one?”
“Coracinus Moth learned something too dangerous for him to know.”
“Cousin Blackie?” Rachel felt oddly let down. She had so wanted to be able to hate the Master of the World on Blackie’s behalf. “You cannot just protect him, as you protect me?”
“I cannot take the chance, lest any of my lower brothers should look into his mind.”
“Lower brothers?” Rachel gazed at him carefully. “You mean demons?”
He nodded solemnly.
“What did Blackie find out?” She stepped down two steps to be closer to him, looking up. “Can you tell me?”
The Raven gazed at her for a time. “I cannot tell even you. The knowledge is too dangerous. But I can tell you what the matter concerned. Perhaps, then, you will think less harshly of me.”
“Yes?” Rachel leaned forward eagerly.
“He discovered wher
e Moloch sleeps.”
“Oh!” she whispered, both astonished and a little envious of Blackie. She had been working diligently to learn that information herself.
Jariel turned his head, gazing toward the northeast. Rachel followed his gaze. She knew in that direction lay the dining hall and, a few miles beyond that, the sharp crescent peak of Stony Tor. He might have been glancing at the tor, or he might have been looking across the ocean at Iceland or Moscow. There was no way for her to tell.
“I understand that Moloch is one of the worst of the worst, and we don’t want him to wake, but why remove so much of Blackie’s memory?” she asked. “Why not remove only the offending information?”
“I tried. Twice. He reproduced his results, discovering the same secrets a second and then a third time.”
“Oh,” she murmured again.
The chill of the evening on the ice had taken its toll on her. She shivered and rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them.
“If a person has too much proof of a hidden thing, the world sides with them,” said Jariel. “The evidence reappears.”
“Like Great-Aunt Nimue and the rattle?” Rachel asked, her eyes trained on his face.
Jariel smiled slightly, as if her perspicacity pleased him. Rachel noticed that his eyes were now as gray as the clouds around the moon. He nodded. “Nimue Griffin Moth recalled that the child of Ellen Griffin would be named after the pretty girl who was to have married her favorite nephew. Nimue had been hard on that girl when they first met, thinking that she could treat the young woman more kindly later. Later never came.”
Rachel climbed up several stairs again, until her head was even with his. “You mean, like the way she was kind of mean to Gaius, saying she didn’t trust short men, but she secretly liked him?”
“Very like,” he nodded. “Only your mother’s friend did not know your great-aunt well enough to see through her gruffness. Your great-aunt regretted this. She confessed it to Gilbert Ashley, the silversmith, when she ordered the rattle. Whenever she thought of this chain of events, remembering how she had discussed with the silversmith why the baby was to be named Amber, the S I had placed on the rattle vanished, returning to an A. I could not keep her from remembering this without changing Amber Benson’s name. But too many people knew the name of the dead girl for me to hide it easily. I hate to change them more than I must.”
When he finished, she swallowed and met his unearthly gaze with a challenge.
“Why did you hide the existence of my dead sister Amber?”
“Because your sister Amber is not dead.”
“Wha-what?”
Rachel’s boots slid out from under her on the slippery marble. Her arms wind-milled. She would have fallen had he not stepped forward and caught her elbow. He set her on her feet again, upon the landing. He then squatted down on one knee, until he gazed at her eye-to-eye.
“You have three sisters, not two,” he said. “One was taken from your family as a baby, before you were born. By the Master. Your father and mother agreed to this, but, to my shame, it was because I had already changed them to fit the Master’s needs. I…”
Pain contorted his face. He pressed his hand on his chest.
“I-I cannot tell you more,” he gasped. “It directly affects him, and I am constrained from telling you his plans. Even what I have said is…painful. I cannot risk destroying myself.”
“No! Don’t hurt yourself!” Rachel cried, rushing forward until she was right next to him. His feather radiated a heat that felt so good to her chilled body. “You must take care of yourself. Do not tell me anything you cannot. I…I understand what that is like—not being able to tell people things.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Is that an oath that’s hurting you? Like when people swear on the waters of the River Styx?”
“Very like.” Jariel repeated, nodding.
“My parents—” Her voice failed. She tried again. “My parents—from my family, whom you claimed would sacrifice anything to keep each other safe—gave up their baby girl?”
She could not even express how wrong that seemed.
Jariel closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were again blood red.
The Raven spoke. “I can change the fate of this world, if you wish. Not on a grand scale, because it would go against my orders. But I could make it very likely that your sister Amber returns. Would you like to meet her? I do not know what has happened to her. I have seen glimpses of her from afar. She is involved in other things. Things which are a distraction to me. I do not know what the Master has told her about her parents. Your parents and siblings do not remember her.”
“Yes.” Rachel replied in a small voice. “I would like that very much.”
Or, at least, she had planned to say that. She felt too shocked to be sure of what she actually said.
He looked off, as if into the distance. “Many paths I see stretching into the future. I choose one, and I say it is destined to be so…. And it is done. She will come.”
Rachel was quiet for a time, too full of pain and awe to speak. She shook her head, whispering, “The Master of the World made you make us forget so many things!”
“No. Only one thing did he bid me to make your world forget and one thing alone. The rest merely followed.”
“I’m…not sure I understand.”
The Raven winced in pain again and pressed his hand against his chest. Sorrow haunted his perfect features. “I can say no more.”
“Okay.”
Stunned by what she had learned, Rachel nodded kindly and gave the tall winged being a quick hug. Then she started down the steps, back toward the dining hall and warmth. When the Raven called her name, she turned back.
“Yes, Jariel?”
The Raven stood at the top of the first flight of stairs, his eyes as scarlet as newly-spilt blood.
“Know this, Rachel Griffin: nothing left in this world is as important as the one thing I have caused it to forget.”
Here ends The Awful Truth About Forgetting.
Our heroine’s adventures continue in the Fifth Book of Unexpected Enlightenment:
The Unbearable Heaviness of RememberingThe Unbearable Heaviness of Remembering
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Glossary
Agents
Magical law enforcement. Agents fight magical foes, both human and supernatural.
Alchemy
One of the Seven Sorcerous Arts. It is the Art of putting magic into objects.
Bavaria
A country that exists in the world of the book but not in our world. It is known to both the World of the Wise and the Unwary. It is ruled by the Von Dread family.
Canticle
One of the Seven Sorcerous Arts. It is the Art of commanding the natural and supernatural world with the words and gestures of the Original Language.
Cantrip
One word in the Original Language, i.e. a canticle spell.
Cathay
The Democratic Republic of Cathay, a country that exists in the world of the book but not in our world. It is known to both the World of the Wise and the Unwary. It is ruled by an elected council.
Conjuring
One of the Seven Sorcerous Arts. It is the Art of drawing objects out of the dreamlands.
Core Group
A group of students, usually from the same dorm, who attend all their classes together.
Dare Hall
The dormitory at Roanoke Academy that is favored by enchanters.
De Vere Hall
The dormitory at Roanoke Academy that is favored by warders and obscurers.
Dee Hall
The dormitory at Roanoke Academy that is favored by scholars.
Drake Hall
The dormitory at Roanoke Academy that is favored by thaumaturges.
Enchantment
One of the Seven Sorcerous Arts. It is based on music and includes a number of sub-arts.
Fulgurator’s wand
A wand with a spell-grade gem on the tip that is used by Soldiers of the Wise to throw lighting and to hold other kinds of spells.
Gnosis
One of the Seven Sorcerous Arts. It is the Art of knowledge and augury.
Heer of Dunderberg
Storm Goblin locked up with his Lightning Imps in a cave in Stony Tor on Roanoke Island.
Jumping
A cantrip that allows the practitioner to teleport.
Magical Australia
A country that is only known to the Wise. It is ruled by the Romanov family.
Marlowe Hall
The dormitory at Roanoke Academy that is favored by conjurers.
Morthbrood
An ancient organization of practitioners of black magic. During the Terrible Years, the Morthbrood served the Terrible Five.
Mundane
Without magic. Refers both to the modern technological world and to those who cannot use magic. It is possible to be mundane and Wise, if one has no magic but is aware of the magical world.
Obscuration
A subset of Warding. It allows for the casting of illusions that hide things and trick the Unwary.
Original Language
The original language in which all objects were named.
Parliament of the Wise
The ruling body of the World of the Wise.
Pollepel Island
The name the Unwary call the island they see in place of Roanoke Island. It is also called Bannerman Island.
Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts
A school of magic on a floating island that is currently moored in the Hudson near Storm King Mountain.
The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 45