It took longer than she would have liked to find Pip’s mother; she had slipped farther down the river beneath the ice, the current pulling her along. By the time she did, Tabitha’s lungs were burning. Her head was pounding and there was something red in the water that made it difficult to see. She couldn’t think clearly. She wanted to change into a fish again, just to catch her breath, but when she reached for the shape it eluded her. Her thoughts were clouded by pain now, and lack of air. She abandoned them and kicked frantically, holding tightly to the body of the woman.
Suddenly, her thoughts became strangely clear. Her body felt distant, sluggish, a thing forgotten, but her mind was calm. She was sure everything would be all right. She could barely feel the cold now, and her lungs had stopped burning. She hoped that Pip would be okay, though in her heart of hearts she knew that his mother had probably been under the water too long to survive. That was okay, though, she thought. Her child was safe, and the river was such a beautiful, peaceful place to die. The sun was setting above the water, and the red light looked very majestic streaming through the water, broken up into oranges and yellows by the ice. As if from a faraway place, some distant, logical corner of her mind told her that the surface was close. With a massive effort, she nudged Pip’s mother toward it.
After that, her strength was gone.
She drifted with the river. She thought she heard shouting, panicked voices, but then they were gone too.
Her arm struck something hard, ice or a root, and her body bobbed and dropped slightly in the water. A deeper, faster current caught at her feet, pulling her down, down, down to where she could barely see the light.
Her last thoughts were remarkably clear: she hoped that Kuzo would be happy and not turn angry and bitter again, and she hoped that Brinley would be all right without her.
Chapter Eleven
In which there is a reckoning
Brinley stirred from her reverie at the sound of soft footprints on the trail behind her. She sat up, trying to remember what she had been thinking about. Had she fallen asleep?
“Archibald?” she called. “Lignumis, is that you?”
A figure stepped from the stony path into the little circle of reflected light from the starlit surface of the lake. It was Lignumis, and he was alone.
“I was too late!” Lignumis said. His voice faltered with emotion. “The Cracks of Laughter…he must have fallen…I found this.” He dropped to his knees in front of Brinley and held something up to her.
It was a circle of shining silver. It swung back and forth on its glittering chain, suspended from Lignumis’s hand: Archibald’s pocket watch. With a sinking feeling, she realized that she had seen this moment before. She had seen it more than once, in her dreams, the watch on the chain, swinging back and forth. She just hadn’t realized what it was. Archibald was gone.
“I am so sorry,” Lignumis said as she took the watch. “I should have left sooner.
A single tear streaked down her cheek and Brinley wiped it away. A memory flashed through her mind: the snake-man, laughing, warning of death. “It’s my fault,” she said. “I should have known that something like this was going to happen.”
Unda put a hand on her shoulder, but could find nothing to say.
The Swelter Cat sniffed. “I’m sorry that your friend is gone,” he said. “But that is behind us. The journey goes on.” He indicated the lake.
There would have usually been some indignation, Brinley knew, some passion welling up inside her at such harshness, but not now. She felt dead inside. Dead, like Archibald…She deserved whatever cruelty the Swelter Cat saw fit to deal out.
“Lead on, then,” she said numbly, tucking the watch into her pocket. “How do we cross?”
The Swelter Cat brightened, twitching his tail excitedly. “Eat a star, take a swim, and feel what truly lies within.” He coughed on a hairball, then continued: “Do not touch the water until the star is consumed. Pray you don’t forget this rule and find your life is doomed.”
Gingerly, he approached the edge of the water and reached out over the surface with his tail. He brushed at the nearest reflection of a star with the tip of his tail, and to Brinley’s surprise, it glided toward him. When it came within reach he picked it up deftly with a single claw and plopped it in his mouth, swallowing with a shiver.
Brinley turned to the water and picked a star that was within reach.
“Careful,” Unda said, taking hold of her arm as she leaned out and dragged the star closer. “Doom, and all that…Doesn’t sound good.” She was using the tip of her finger like the Swelter Cat had done with his tail. Finally, she picked it up. It was as thin as a potato chip—thinner, and still glowing. She bit down on it and shivered like the Swelter Cat had done.
“What does it taste like?” Unda said.
“Like an ice cube,” Brinley said. “Except that it’s not really cold. I can still feel it in me though, like you can with an ice cube.”
“Hmm,” Unda said, reaching for his own. It was just out of reach, and Brinley was about to tell him to be careful when he slipped. He would have fallen into the water had Lignumis not caught him.
“Get off me!” Unda shouted. “Don’t touch me!”
Lignumis, who had just pulled him back to safety, released him abruptly. “Sorry for saving your life!” Lignumis said. “Now that I know how you feel I’ll make sure I stand back and let you fall next time.”
Unda cleared his throat, looking around as if he had realized he might have made a mistake. “Right,” he said quietly. “Well, I suppose that was decent of you.”
“What do you have against me?” Lignumis said.
“Well, I don’t trust you. Or I didn’t, anyway.”
“And now?”
“Maybe,” Unda said uncertainly. “I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Too many things are wrong about you,” Unda said quietly. He was staring at Lignumis intently, as if trying to justify the face before him with the one in his memories.
“Like my living in the Ire so long and surviving,” Lignumis mused.
“And the fact that you haven’t been able to receive your power back. Yes. I noticed.”
Lignumis flushed. “Well, I can see how it would worry you. But I did just save your life, so maybe you can give me just a moment of trust and let me help you get your star without killing yourself.”
“Oh my goodness,” Brinley said, covering her face with her hands. “Why can’t you two just get along?” She raised up a hand as they both began to speak. “No, I know the reason. Let’s just get on with this.”
Unda and Lignumis considered each other for a moment. “Fine,” Unda said at length.
“Fine,” Lignumis agreed. He braced himself and then took Unda’s hand as the Mage of Water leaned out over the lake. Unda picked up two stars and handed one to Lignumis. Staring at one another darkly, they ate in silence.
The Swelter Cat waded into the lake and began to swim. His hair, fanned out and floating beside him, pushed stars away from his body in tiny waves.
“What do you think he meant about feeling the truth that lies within?” Unda asked. Brinley could tell that he was addressing her, but he had not taken his eyes off of Lignumis.
“I expect we’ll find out in a moment,” she said, and strode into the water. The pool was surprisingly deep, and in three steps she was treading water. It occurred to her that she could still feel the star that she had eaten. Then she realized that the feeling was getting stronger. The star was growing, not in size, but in potency. She could feel it growing stronger and stronger in her chest, until it began to hum. She took two more strokes into the pool. She was in the exact center now. Under any other circumstances she would have been fretfully wondering how deep the water was and what might live down there unseen, but the humming had turned to buzzing, and it was consuming her awareness. Without warning, the buzzing erupted like a firework in her chest, spreading outward in a single wave of emotion that covered h
er entire body, filled her whole mind.
The feeling was so strong that, had it been a bad emotion, she thought it might have killed her. Instead, it was wonderful. Something so familiar that it was hard to put into words. Love wasn’t quite right. Neither was peace. But they were close. Belonging might have worked, except that it was too small a word. Too cold. In the end, she settled on home.
Yes. It felt like home. It was more than the feeling of her own home back on Earth. More even than the feeling of the home that she had built here with Tabitha and the mages. It was the feeling of what she wanted to create in life. The home that she wanted to make for all of her loved ones, free of war and danger and strife. It was the greatest longing of her heart, the truth of who she really was.
She awoke to the sound of her hair dripping into the shallow, star-strewn water of the far bank and realized that she had already completed the journey. Now Unda was in the water behind her. He did not make a sound as he crossed the distance between them, but when he stood next to her there was a gleam in his eyes that she had never seen before.
“What is it?” she asked. “What do you feel?”
He turned his blue eyes on her, and she felt as if she had been swallowed up by the sea. “Clarity,” he said. “Purity. Depth.” He held up a hand and gazed at it as if he were seeing it for the first time. “I feel as if I understand everything. All the comings and goings of time and circumstance. I remember every thought I’ve ever had. Everything seems so simple.”
He pointed at Lignumis, who was barely up to his knees in the water. “That man is not who he claims to be,” he whispered.
“Unda…” Brinley began.
“Don’t take my word for it,” Unda said. “Search his mind. Go into his heart. You are the Magemother. Can you not tell a true mage from an imposter?”
Brinley felt herself go stiff. She should be able to do that. It should be the easiest thing in the world. She watched as Lignumis waded into the pool. Maybe now, if she tried again, her luck would change. She reached out with her mind and felt after Lignumis, but all she found was a stone wall and the man with the head of a snake, laughing at her again.
Get out! She released the thought like a scream. She squeezed her head between her hands, willing the creature to leave, but he would not budge. He had stolen her power now, she knew. He had taken away her ability to feel the mages.
Unda? she called desperately. He did not hear her, even though he was right there. Even that was gone now. How had this creature burrowed into her mind? Why? Who had sent it?
Brinley’s attention snapped back to the water as a gurgling scream rent the air. Lignumis had just made it past the middle of the pool and was thrashing wildly. He was in danger. He was going to drown. Without thinking, she dove into the water.
“No, no! Don’t go!” the Swelter Cat shouted, but she did not hear him.
She made it out to Lignumis in a few short strokes, but soon realized that she would be unable to save him. He had swallowed water and was bobbing up and down in the deepest part of the little pond. She got close enough to grab his arm, but before she could, he pulled her under desperately and tried to climb on top of her. She realized that he was no longer in his right mind. Panic had taken over. She needed to get away from him or he would drown them both. She twisted in the water, planted both feet in his stomach, and kicked as hard as she could, but he caught one of her ankles and dragged her back. Then his arm was around her waist again. Just before her head dipped beneath the water, she caught a glimpse of Unda striding out onto the pond, walking on the water as calmly as if it were solid ground. She was pulled under again, and found herself clawing up Lignumis’s torso in a desperate struggle for light and air.
She broke the surface just in time to see Unda standing over the two of them. Desperately, Lignumis lunged for him, but Unda sidestepped him easily. Then the Mage of Water bent down, lifted Lignumis’s head out of the water by his hair and punched him hard in the face.
Lignumis stopped struggling at once, and Brinley pushed his body away, swimming for the shore. When she got there she found Unda right behind her. He was swimming too now, and pulling Lignumis behind him in the water. When he reached the shore he dragged Lignumis out and dumped him unceremoniously on the dark sand.
“He’s not…” Brinley began, but couldn’t find the courage to finish.
“He’s not dead,” Unda said, sounding disappointed. “Just unconscious.”
The Swelter Cat sniffed Lignumis, then hissed and arched his back.
“I don’t understand,” Brinley said. She folded her arms and hugged herself tightly to stop herself from shivering. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Whatever it is,” Unda said, “It’s deep enough to have affected his true nature. That’s what this pool shows, right? It makes you feel your deepest nature? Obviously he felt his and it wasn’t pleasant. He has to be the Janrax.”
“But I was so sure about him,” Brinley said. “I saw him and I knew that he was Lignumis. He looks just as I imagined he would.”
“But you couldn’t give him back his power,” Unda said.
She shook her head. “But who knows why that is. Like you said, it could be because he isn’t a mage at all, but it could be something else.”
Unda grunted. “Either way, what do we do now? Leave him here?”
“Bind his hands and carry him,” the Swelter Cat said. “Cyus will free him or bury him.”
Unda tore off a strip of Lignumis’s shirt and tied his hands. Then he lifted him to his shoulders and stepped toward the winding path that led up out of the valley. “I hope it’s not as far up as it was coming down,” he said.
Brinley fell in alongside him, and together they followed the Swelter Cat up the path, which turned out to be shorter, but steeper, than the way down. Unda stumbled twice, but caught himself both times before he fell.
***
When they reached the edge of Gangow Lake, Cyus’s pyramid was clearly visible ahead of them rising out of its center, a great white point in a golden pool. Brinley thought that they were going to have to swim again, but quickly learned that in Inveress, the lake was solid underfoot. It was a strange sensation to walk across what looked like a golden lake without even disturbing the surface. The great white pyramid at the center of the lake had seven tall stone tiers, each of them just short enough for her to climb over without the help of her companions. The Swelter Cat took each tier in a single graceful leap, but they were too large for Unda while he was holding Lignumis, so he had to lift the man from his shoulder onto the first tier, climb up after him, and then repeat the process. As such, they proceeded slowly, and Brinley had to restrain herself from going on ahead. The pyramid was just wide and tall enough that she wasn’t able to get a view of each successive tier until they had mounted it.
When Brinley pulled herself up onto the last level, she found that the top of the pyramid had a large door cut into the side, and windows all around the roof near the top. It was a much larger structure than she would have guessed.
The door opened at her touch, and upon entering the building they found that the inside was furnished like an expensive, formal residence. Apart from the angled exterior walls, they might have just walked inside the manor house of some country lord. Tobias led them up a curving burgundy staircase to the second floor, down a hallway, and into a tall, richly decorated chamber. There was a beautiful round well in the center of the room, and as Brinley moved to it she saw that it opened into the void. She backed away cautiously, then looked up and saw an ancient man was sitting in an intricately carved and gilded throne on the other side of the room, beside him was a tall, elegant door. He sat behind a large floor harp, the carefully carved faces of which matched the throne upon which he sat. It struck Brinley at once that this man was a guard, for he seemed to have placed himself right in their path, but if this was true he was the strangest guard that she had ever seen. Despite being old, and in a chair, and holding a harp, he was also sound asl
eep.
“Who is that?” Brinley whispered to the Swelter Cat.
“His name is thus: Crepitus. He will play your deeds and needs, and judge if they are needs indeed.”
“Our needs?” Unda said. “You mean our reasons for coming here? What do you mean that he will play them?”
As soon as he asked the question, the old man’s hands lifted, ghostlike, to his harp. The rest of his body did not move at all, and his beard continued to twitch softly with his silent snoring.
The Swelter Cat urged Brinley forward as his fingers began to move. Soon the air was filled with the sound of music, a sweet, spiraling melody that became more and more complex as he went along. Soon his fingers were flying over the strings. He leaned forward to reach a particularly high note and his head lulled to one side in a deep snore. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the music stopped.
Crepitus gave a particularly loud snore and mumbled, “Responsibility. Great need. A daughter’s love…You may pass.” The door behind him sprung open, and his fingers moved to the strings again.
The Swelter Cat nudged Unda forward. The mage paused for a moment, bending to deposit Lignumis into an empty chair, then he stepped up to the harpist. The music was all low notes this time, a haunting melody, beautiful and sad, that seemed to fill everyone with peace just by listening to it. Brinley could tell that it was going to be a very long song, but Crepitus stopped abruptly before it was finished. He gave another whistling snore. “Loyalty. Your need is true,” he said. “You may pass.”
Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages) Page 70