by Sharon Hinck
Suppressing a shudder, I sought Lukyan’s eyes again. “Who else do I know? Can you take me to other places that I might remember? Where did I live?”
Lukyan patted my hand. “When you left for Hazor, you gave your cottage to a young couple newly bonded. But Tara has offered—insisted—that she’ll take you in when you’re ready.”
I looked over my shoulder at the lodge. “I’m ready.”
He laughed. “Sweet Linette, you could give the healers the blessing of serving for a few more days. It makes them feel useful.”
His wink made me giggle, but the sound felt unfamiliar to my ears. Had I been prone to laughter when I’d lived in this clan? Or had too much time passed since I’d found things to giggle about?
I shook my head. “I don’t want to stay any longer.”
“I understand.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I experienced their overzealous hospitality a few seasons ago.”
We stopped at the healer’s lodge long enough for Lukyan to firmly inform them that he was taking me. Begrudgingly, they gave in, but I caught suspicious glances and whispered conversations just out of earshot as we left the building. I thought perhaps my caretakers were annoyed that we ignored their advice, but then I realized not all the whispers ran between healers. Even those there for care looked at me askance. Puzzled, I asked Lukyan about it as I followed him down the trail through the woods.
A hard expression flicked across his face, out of place among the laugh lines. “They’ve seen problems with memory before, caused by Rhusican poison. Your condition makes them uneasy.” He watched me closely.
“Is that the name of the drug Bezreth gave me?”
His face softened into a sad smile. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they have many things in common.” Then he pushed his shoulders back and picked up the pace. “Well, whatever the cause of a problem, the answer is the same. Follow the One.”
Finally the trail opened out into a village. I waited for a flare of recognition. According to Lukyan, this was the clan where I’d grown up, these were the trees I’d climbed, these were the people I’d served.
An old woman in a doorway called to her grandchild and held him close, sending a dark look my way. As we passed another small cottage, a door slid shut.
I looked at Lukyan. “What’s wrong?”
“Not everyone understood your choice to go to Hazor. People fear what they don’t understand.”
Cold river water churned through my chest. “They fear me?”
“Oh, not anyone with a magchip in their light cube.” He tapped his forehead and smiled. “They’re just uneasy. Give it time.”
Give it time. Give it time. The words mocked me in rhythm with each step I took. I had no choice. I couldn’t set a course for myself when I didn’t know who I was. I couldn’t make others comfortable when I wasn’t comfortable with myself. I couldn’t explain my reasons for being in Hazor when I didn’t know them.
Lukyan stopped in front of a large house on the edge of town. The door opened and a white-haired woman scampered toward us, grabbed my shoulders, and touched her forehead lightly against mine. “Oh, sweet child. It’s so good to see you. Thank you, Lukyan. Those healers are too worried for their own good. What she needs is family”—she wrapped her soft hand around my slim wrist—“and some fattening up. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”
She swept me into her home, and Lukyan called a good-bye. He wasn’t staying? Panic welled, but there was no resisting the firm motherly arms that pushed me toward a large table.
“Sit, sit, sit.” She hit her hand against her forehead. “Silly me. He said you wouldn’t remember. I’m Tara.”
A little girl ran into the room, whooping, chased by a boy about the same size. A slim woman with long dark hair came in from the kitchen alcove, holding a baby. “Oh, Linette, I’m so sorry. We should never have left Sidian without you. We knew things were getting dangerous. But Kieran can be so stubborn. We should have made you come back to Braide Wood with us.”
I stared at her blankly. Tara caught one of the running children. “Linette, these rascals are Aubrey and Dustin. They belong to Talia and Gareth, who are both out hunting with Payton. And this is Kendra and her baby, Emmi. And . . .”
The rush of unfamiliar names and the new faces made me feel as if the floor were tilting. I cast a look at the door, tempted to flee back to the healer’s lodge and throw myself on their mercy.
Chapter
20
Linette
Five times in as many days, I woke in the small back room of Tara’s home and searched for some clue, some thread that would help me weave a picture of my past. Five times in as many days, I recited a simple prayer that Kendra had taught me, “As my eyes first open, may I open my heart to the One who painted first light across the darkness and allows me to see.”
Five times in as many days, all I could see inside myself was an aching emptiness.
The same emptiness hovered throughout the day. I had become a phrase of melody with missing notes, caught in a clashing harmony that wouldn’t resolve.
Tara’s warmth and acceptance provided a welcome refuge from the suspicion and withdrawal of the village. Yet even under her roof, the awkwardness of my confusion made me want to hide in the room she’d given me. As the days passed, the knot of agitation in my gut built until I felt like I’d swallowed a millstone.
“Susan stayed here when she came,” Tara had told me as she unfurled a woven blanket over the pallet. Her tone told me Susan must have been someone special to her. Another fact to tuck away.
“Aren’t you glad we don’t have to bother with those silly braids like we did in Hazor?” Kendra asked one morning as we dished up mugs of clavo. I smiled and nodded, but I wanted to slam the ladle to the table in frustration. Why did she insist on acting like I knew her? Didn’t she understand? I had no memory of being with her in Sidian, no memory of being her friend.
At supper one evening, I listened to the swirl of talk around me, oblivious to the nuances, missing the jokes—unable to follow even simple conversation. My hand clenched around my spoon.
Payton chose that moment to turn to me, no doubt thinking to include me in the discussion. “We have more of the land cleared from the damage. Morsal Plains should be recovered in a few more seasons.” He smiled expectantly, as if I’d understand and share his pleasure.
I shoved away my bowl of stew and pushed back from the table. “I don’t know what any of you are talking about.” Then, in the silence that followed, I fled to my room, ashamed of my angry outburst.
Huddled on my pallet, I fought back tears. Gathering up bits of information was not the same as remembering. I could learn names, but didn’t know what I was supposed to feel toward a person, what experiences we’d shared. Tara’s large family filled the home, but I still felt terribly alone.
I longed to settle into purposeful work, but a songkeeper who didn’t know the Verses was worse than useless. I recruited Dustin and Aubrey to teach me, and began to relearn the rich and beautiful words. Lukyan visited often to explain the meaning. Still, I couldn’t squeeze a lifetime of learning into a few days. It could take years before I’d be able to serve as a songkeeper—if the clan would even accept and allow it. I didn’t know who I was, who I had been, or who I was supposed to be. I felt like one of the fabled wraiths that the children told me haunted a place called Shamgar.
My isolation deepened after the local guardians encountered a team of Hazorite soldiers near Morsal Plains. The guardians fought them back, but rumors circulated quickly that Zarek had sent them because of me, rumors I couldn’t even refute with confidence. I felt surrounded by suspicion, and even Tara couldn’t hide her worried glances in my direction.
One morning, I set out early to explore the woods that surrounded the village, with the same hope that propelled me each day. Perhaps today I’d recognize something. Maybe to
day would be the day I would find myself. Crisscrossing paths led to unexpected clearings and open prairies. Each new vista might provide a key—a glimpse that would jar open some better memories to replace my terrifying recollections of Bezreth. Besides, if I stayed under Payton and Tara’s roof, I’d end up snapping and snarling at someone again, and they didn’t deserve to have their kindness answered with my frustration.
I kept glancing over my shoulder. Had Bezreth sent the Hazorite soldiers to Braide Wood? Would she send someone else after me? How far did her reach extend? As those fears crept forward, I found myself wishing Kieran had remained in Braide Wood. He’d been short-tempered and abrasive, but he’d made me feel . . . protected.
Shaking my long hair free from my cloak, I followed a trail that led upward to a ridge overlooking the central homes of the village. Tall pines added a spicy scent over the subtle sweetness of honey-limbed bark and moist soil that cushioned my steps. I continued farther in the direction I’d been told led to the nearest transport. Lukyan had said he’d take me to Lyric soon. He thought that if I spent time at the tower, my spirit would find healing. I clung to any small hope these days.
Out of breath from the climb, I worked my way slowly along a steep part of the trail. Silence wrapped around me like caradoc wool. Out here, no one prodded me to remember. No eyes followed me—either with pity or suspicion. My shoulders relaxed, and I lifted my face to the soft grey sky.
Holy One, Lukyan says I knew You well. He claims you didn’t forsake me, but I don’t know what to believe. Forgive me for all that I no longer understand. And if you still want me, show me how to follow You again.
A twig cracked nearby, interrupting my prayer. I turned toward the sound. Although I couldn’t remember personal encounters with them, I knew that predators roamed the outlying forests. They rarely troubled anyone during the light of day. Then my thoughts shifted to a greater danger. Vivid images of angry carvings and the screams of despair that waited beneath the Sidian shrine made my stomach tighten. Had Bezreth found me?
For a moment I couldn’t move. But I’d rather confront the unknown than wait for it to spring out at me. I took a few tentative steps in the direction of the sound.
Pausing, I heard a soft rustling of leaves and pine needles. I followed the sound until the trees opened into a tiny space no bigger than Tara’s kitchen. On a fallen log sat a young boy, perhaps five or six years old. Tousled curls framed his face, and his wide, clear eyes focused on something in the leaves a few feet in front of him. His hand stretched forward. When I saw what he was reaching for, my heart stuttered.
A scarlet-furred rizzid bared its fangs and inched closer to the boy. In the same way I remembered that water was for drinking and a tree was a tree, I knew that a rizzid was lethal.
“No!” I shouted. “Get back.”
The boy’s thick lashes lifted and his deep brown eyes met mine. He smiled gently, unafraid. The rizzid slithered the remaining distance. Before I could find a weapon or snatch the boy to safety, the creature crawled onto the boy’s lap.
My breath caught in my throat, and I stood still, afraid to do anything to startle it.
The boy calmly stroked the rizzid’s head. The animal’s eyes closed, and a sound almost like purring gurgled from its throat. Then the boy set it on the log, petted it once more, and shooed it off in the same way I’d seen Tara send her grandchildren off to play.
I drew a breath, relief making me weak. Then I closed the distance and sank onto the log beside the boy. “You shouldn’t touch rizzids. They’re dangerous.”
He blinked a few times and smiled at me again.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He still didn’t speak. Maybe he was shy.
“My name is Linette,” I said quietly. “Where are your parents? We’re too far from the village. You shouldn’t be out here all alone.”
He stood and offered me his small hand.
I took it, soft and warm in mine, and scanned the clearing. “Hello? Anyone here?” I called out. Surely his parents had to be nearby. Or an older brother or sister who was supposed to watch him? I couldn’t leave him here. I stood up. Tara would know him. She knew everyone in the clan and could return him to the right home.
Together we walked back to the trail and toward the village. His wide eyes took in everything around him with fascination, as if it were new to him in the same way these woods—that should have been familiar—were new to me.
On the ridge above the village, the lace of one of my boots came loose. I crouched to tie it, then smiled up at the boy. His gaze trapped mine, brown eyes deepening like quiet pools. His small hands reached out and clasped my face. As he touched me, memories seeped back in as softly as dawning light in the morning.
I recognized these trees. The tall pines stretching toward the sky were old friends. The sweet scent of honeyed wood reassured me I belonged. The trail seemed to ripple and settle, and now it felt familiar beneath my feet. I knew who I was and where I had been. I knew my heart again. Walls in my mind melted away, and an inaudible voice called my name.
Linette. Songkeeper. Beloved child.
I gasped, drawing in new memories with each breath. The sky visible above the trees seemed lighter. The sleeves of my tunic, softer. I ran fingers through my loose hair, and it no longer felt like a stranger’s.
Childhood flooded back. Warm memories of my parents’ hugs, gleeful races across open prairies, rambling invented songs that I sang to the empty marshes. Not all the memories were full of joy, but I embraced them all. My parents’ tears when I left for my apprenticeship in Lyric, youthful quarrels with friends, a bad fall from a lehkan. Layer by layer, my life was rebuilt.
“Oh, thank You, Holy One!” I laughed with giddy relief. I couldn’t wait to tell Lukyan and Tara. They’d been so worried. And Kieran. I shook my head. The poor man. All he’d gone through to get me safely back from Hazor, and I’d never thanked him.
But why had we been in Hazor? I remembered vague impressions of the painful days of traveling home to Braide Wood, and before that the wretched time below the shrine, but I couldn’t seem to unlock the days before I’d entered that prison.
I tried from the other direction, skimming lightly over my childhood and apprentice years. The unfolding memories slowed. I remembered feast days, singing at the Lyric tower. I remembered much of my life in Braide Wood. But the last few years were still shrouded. I struggled for a moment, trying to push past the barrier, to unscramble the locks barring the door of those years.
I looked again at the child. Sadness glimmered in his eyes.
I drew him into a tender hug, then rested my forehead against his. I could grapple with the remaining lost memories later. The boy needed my help. I remembered the Braide Wood families now. Even with the strange gap in my memory, I knew enough to know that he wasn’t from our clan.
“Where are your parents?” I asked again. “Where do you belong?”
It was amazing that he showed no fear, being left alone so far from the village. Perhaps he was simple-minded. He seemed unable to speak, always answering my questions with that same relaxed smile.
My earlier plan still made sense. I took the boy’s hand, and we headed toward Tara’s house. Somehow the One had used this boy’s touch to restore my memory. To show me where I belonged. Now maybe I could return the favor.
I burst into Tara’s home. She was kneading dough in the kitchen alcove, while hearty scents floated from a loaf on the glowing heat trivet.
“I remember! Tara, it’s all coming back.”
She clapped her hands together, sending up a small puff of flour. “Thank the One! Home cooking and time with friends will fix most anything.” Her enthusiastic hug squeezed the breath from me.
In my excitement to share my great news, I almost forgot my small companion, who had trailed me into the home’s common room. The boy tilted his head,
eyes bright as he watched our celebration.
Tara released me and looked over my shoulder. “Who’s this?”
“I hoped you might know. I found him in the woods near the ridge trail.”
She cast me a worried look. “I don’t understand. You found him?”
“He was all alone. I couldn’t leave him. Has a new family moved to the clan?”
“No.” Tara eased herself down to eye-level with the boy. “Were you traveling with your family? Did you get lost?”
The child touched Tara’s temple, as if to brush away the worry that had tightened her features, but remained silent.
Tara rose slowly, wincing as she straightened her back. “Dustin!” Talia and Gareth’s son tore in from the back room, then skidded to a stop and grinned when he saw a potential playmate. Tara tousled Dustin’s curls absently. “Little one, run to the plateau and tell Tristan we need a messenger. Right away.”
After Dustin reluctantly pulled himself away and headed on his errand, Tara lifted a fresh roll from the heat trivet, bouncing it from hand to hand. She broke it in half, and fragrant steam rose from the nutty center. She handed half to me and half to the child, then sat down and hefted the boy into her lap. “I know all the children from Blue Knoll. He could be from Lyric, but I still can’t understand why he ended up here. Poor dear.” She smoothed his curly bangs away from his eyes. His face betrayed no worry. Instead, he munched happily on the bread, then rested against Tara’s shoulder.
“Everything will be all right.” Tara wrapped her arms around the boy. “We’ll figure this out.” Then she looked at me, and her frown cleared. “So you remember everything now?”
I giggled, relief and joy welling up again. “Most of my life. The people I love. The One. His Verses. It’s all coming back.” Too excited to sit still, I wandered to the kitchen and poured a mug of clavo for Tara. When I returned, I set it on the table near her and perched back on my chair. “The strange thing is, the memories began to return after I found him. Do you think he has some sort of gift? Like a Restorer gift?”