The Stargazers

by Allison M. Dickson

  They didn’t walk far before Aster spied a multi-colored shimmer marking the clearing of the Tree of Doors. Pink, yellow, blue, and green beams swirled together in an aura around the enormous willow that served as the waypoint between two worlds. No one could say for sure how the Tree had come into existence, the secrets of its enchantments long lost in the endless tapestry of their world.

  At the entry to the clearing, Aster froze with awe. She had never been this close to the Tree before, and the magic of the place was immense enough make every bone in her body hum. She looked at Nanny Lily, whose face looked almost youthful in the shimmering light. “May I move closer?”

  Lily gave a simple nod and gestured with her arm as if to say, “Be my guest.”

  She approached the willow with the utmost reverence. Hundreds of doorways hung from the branches, each of a different size, shape and material. Some were just plain wooden rectangles, not unlike what one would see on a house. Others were round and made of burnished metal and big round rivets, while some were tiny, like odd fruit. Perhaps they were for birds or butterflies, for Aster didn’t know of any people that small in Ellemire. A closer look revealed that even some of the leaves themselves were doors.

  It was faint, but Aster could hear a singing voice coming from all the doors, each a different pitch and timbre, creating a harmony so beautiful she nearly wept with the joy of it. It was a choir of universes. Wondrous!

  “I don’t think there is anything more beautiful in creation,” said Lily. Her normally authoritative voice was reduced to an awed half-whisper.

  “Where do all of these doors go?”

  “One can never possibly know. We Stargazers may only walk through one. The others are locked to us. There is a different door for every type of being.”

  Aster tried to imagine what a universe made specifically for insects or horses must look like. How many creatures that she took for granted as Ellemire born had come through one of these doors? How in the world did the Stargazers become custodians of this sacred place? The questions were dizzying, but she knew there was no time for this sort of conversation.

  “Which door will I be going through?”

  Dahlia pointed straight ahead to the white door set into the trunk. It was rounded in the shape of the tree itself, and it had an opalescent gleam that was mesmerizing to look at. “The one that seems to unite all of the others together. It’s the Door of All Doors.”

  Aster stepped toward it, but a strong hand caught her around the wrist. She turned to see Nanny Lily looking at her with an expression that was grave, even for her. “Miss Ivy is the one who will be waiting for you on the other side to take you to the boarding house. She is valuable to us. Treat her well.”

  Aster nodded. They hadn’t told her much about this other world, but she at least knew about Miss Ivy, who ran a home for young girls. Aster had never heard of such a place, but she hoped she would meet some friends there. Ivy was from Ellemire, and had long been in service to their family as an ambassador of sorts to the other side. How Ivy had come to be part of such an arrangement was yet another mystery the other women didn’t see fit to solve for her.

  Lily took Aster by the hand. “We have much to tell you, child, so listen closely and do not interrupt me. First, you mustn’t dawdle. It’s easy to lose yourself over there in that world’s many marvels, but your task is more important than any friend or fun you may encounter. Second, keep your heart about you. The beau you meet will not be able to come back here with you. He must never know who you are or where you truly come from, or both our worlds will be put into great peril.”

  But what about Quercus? She restrained herself from asking. It would have only angered the old woman. Aster’s time for arguing was done. “Yes, Nanny Lily.”

  Dahlia spoke up next. “If you need to send a message to us, Larkspur will deliver it for you. Unless something goes wrong, you are not permitted to come back here until you’ve kindled a child.”

  Aster had heard all of this before. They were stalling, but why? A bud of anxiety began to bloom in her gut. “Is that everything?”

  The two crones looked at each other, and then Lily spoke. “Your mother and I have debated long and hard about whether to share this information until you returned. I wanted to wait, for I think you’re too willful and stubborn as it is. But your mother seems to think that if we treated you more like the woman we want you to be, that you would be that woman.”

  Aster’s heart began to pound hard and fast. “Okay. What is it?”

  Dahlia took her hand. “The child you have isn’t going to be like any other child born in Ellemire. She’s going to be a vessel brimming with the Old Magic. Very powerful. ”

  “Yes, I know,” said Aster.

  Nanny Lily shook her head. “No, you don’t know, child. Shut up and listen.” She took a deep breath that was so unlike her that Aster felt gooseflesh ripple up her arms. “Your child will not be permitted to live. The only way you can release the Old Magic within her and save our world is if you sacrifice her upon the Giving Altar.”

  Aster stood frozen in shock as the word sunk in. Sacrifice. As in blood sacrifice? The ancients in Ellemire had performed such rituals, but they were no part of modern magic craft. It was almost too absurd to believe. “I… I have to kill my baby?”

  Lily nodded. “It is written. I am sorry, child.”

  Aster’s insides were a torrent of agony and anger. “But how could you expect me to do this? I can’t just murder my own child! Could you?”

  Dahlia had since turned her gaze to the ground, but Aster could see tears on her mother cheeks reflecting the colored light that now seemed as distant and unimportant as a dim star. Nanny Lily’s gaze, however, stayed level and stern. Now that she was free of the burden of that particular secret, she seemed stronger. “Your mother believed you were woman enough to handle this information. Are you saying she was wrong?”

  “Woman enough? I can’t believe what I’m hearing! You’re a monster!” She backed down the path, away from them and the Tree of Doors. “You can’t make me do this. You won’t!” She was panting so fast that she’d soon start to hyperventilate. The little bit of food she’d eaten that day was churning in her stomach. Soon it would be looking for a way out, just as she was. She turned to run back down the path, toward the house, and a wall of fire sprung up now three feet before her. It was hot enough to pull the skin of her face tight.

  Aster screamed and stumbled away to avoid being burned and fell to the forest floor. She heard her mother cry out, but couldn’t care less. The flames encircled the three of them. Lily’s eyes blazed bright with the magic she was wielding. The Tree must have been giving her a new energy, for Aster had never seen the old woman look so powerful. Aster, who had never dabbled much in the way of magic, aside from a few handy gardening charms, felt defeated.

  “Stand up and face me, child.”

  Aster slowly climbed to her feet and held her grandmother’s gaze, despite her newfound fear of the woman.

  “You asked if I would have been able to kill my baby had I been required to. That deserves an honest answer. I had three babies at once, only one of which hasn’t shamed me. There were signs even as an infant that Oleander was going to be trouble. She was born with stark white hair and a full set of teeth. She could speak before she even learned to crawl. Almost any woman in Ellemire would have drowned such a child as a demon, but I couldn’t do it, even though she was as cruel and ruthless as one. I can’t even count the number of animals she butchered or many times she’d poisoned me before the age of ten. I now know that sacrificing Oleander would have made the world a better place. If I could go back and do it now, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

  The admission stunned Aster so much that she remained speechless as the fire burned hot around her. Miraculously, the magic was not igniting the forest, which was right now as dry as a tinder box.

  Lily continued. “I know I have the luxury of hindsight and you do not. You’re being asked to act enti
rely on faith, and that’s the hardest thing anyone can do. But if you don’t do it… I’m afraid Oleander might grow even more powerful. I think she would consume this world if she could. I’ve had dreams about her, you see…” Her voice wavered, and with that, the fire disappeared. Lily collapsed to her knees and both Aster and Dahlia rushed to her side.

  “I’m so sorry, Nanny Lily,” cried Aster, her anger extinguished by sympathy. “Are you okay?”

  Lily looked up at Aster with a face even more ancient than the one she knew. Her eyes were wet with tears. “It’s the most horrible burden in the world you’ve been handed, I know. You’re being asked to do what even I couldn’t do. I believe you were born to right my wrong. Promise me you will at least meditate on this during your journey. When you come back, we can help you and guide you. But whatever you do, don’t act in haste and fear. There is so much at stake.”

  They helped Lily to her feet. “I’ll try.” She just had to fill the space with words. There was still so much information to process. So many more questions, but never enough time.

  Her mother kissed her cheek. “Just one day at a time, Aster. We will help you through this.” Would they plunge the knife through the baby’s chest? That was the real question, of course. Aster felt a lump raise in her through, but she pushed it back. Not now.

  The three of them turned their full attention toward the Tree of Doors. Lily and Dahlia bent slowly to their knees and began a series of rapid incantations. At first, nothing happened, but Dahlia and Lily maintained the rapid staccato, their tongues dancing across syllables that Aster couldn’t even begin to translate. Soon, the multi-colored light in the clearing began to pulse with the beat of their words. Aster’s ears filled with a low “wah-wah-wah” sound that vibrated every tooth in her head.

  A brief vertigo struck her, and she was certain for a moment that the world was bowing and curving around her. The chanting sped up into a blur of sibilants and fricatives, and now came distant shriek that sounded like a tea kettle coming up to boil.

  Then, as quickly as it had begun, the world snapped back into place with a loud whip crack that made Aster’s ears ring. A trickle of liquid leaked from her nose, and Aster noticed it was blood. Lily handed her a handkerchief as if that’s what she’d expected to happen.

  The Door of All Doors swung open wide to reveal a very similar forest. But the more Aster studied it, the more alien it appeared to her. Clear bottles and crumpled bits of shiny paper lay amid the brush, and Aster wondered if it was garbage or strange decoration. There were worlds on the paper that she didn’t recognize. A terrifying thought occurred to her, and she turned to her mother.

  “The tongue of this place. I don’t know it! How will I even speak?”

  Dahlia smiled. “That’s the beauty of it. When you cross through the door, you will just know.”

  Aster was about to protest. How was that even possible? But a bobbling beam of light coming up the path distracted her, and Nanny Lily began guiding Aster forward through the door. Larkspur darted through without hesitation. This was it. This was actually happening.

  Her skin prickled as she crossed the threshold, but it stopped as soon as she was through. An unpleasant heat and humidity grabbed and hugged her tight, like someone in a smelly old coat. She glanced over her shoulder. The person holding the white light was growing closer, and Aster heard the crackle footprints crushing dead leaves and sticks. This world was also very dry, it seemed.

  “Mother, I—”

  “That’s Miss Ivy. Be nice to her and she’ll be nice to you.” Her mother’s voice sounded muffled and distant from this side, and her brain hurt at the illusion it created.

  A sudden panic clamped down on her. She wasn’t in her world anymore. Inside her roared a storm of tears and terror. She had to get home. Now. Forget about her vacation from Oleander. She would work a thousand years for her terrible aunt if it meant being back in her own world. “I’m not ready. I can’t do this yet. I need more time to prepare. It isn’t time yet!”

  Dahlia’s face was impassive, but Aster could see a slight quiver around her mouth. “I will see you soon, Aster. God and Goddess be with you.”

  “But I can’t do this! There has to be another way! I can find it if you let me. If I’m so special, you’d let me!” Tears spilled down Aster’s cheeks and she tried to step back through the open door, only to find her way blocked by an invisible barrier that stretched forward with her momentum and then pushed her back with force. She stumbled backward but managed to remain upright. Aster’s fury burned brighter.

  “Let me back through! I might not even be this Great Mother person. Don’t you get that? This could all just be fantasy and lies! Please… Mother, please let me come home!”

  Dahlia’s resolve finally broke and tears spilled down her weathered face, but still she did not move. It was clear that, like Aster, she was inexorably stuck to her own fate.

  Nanny Lily stepped back, tugging Dahlia along with her, and raised a hand. After a sharp nudge to the side, Dahlia raised hers too and they mouthed another incantation. The door slammed shut, and the ground trembled with the force of the portal between the two worlds closing. She grabbed onto the trunk so she wouldn’t topple over. When the tremor subsided she noticed no evidence of the magical door that had only just been there. Over here, the Tree of Doors was just a plain, boring old ash. Nothing to give evidence to the strange wonder that had brought her here.

  No magic in this world.

  Aster fell to the ground, sobbing.

  -5-

  Aster’s sobs tapered off a minute later and she wiped tears from her face. The white beam of light was now only about ten paces away. It was unlike any lantern she’d ever seen, and if it was magic the woman wielded, her control must have been astounding.

  The humid balminess of the night clung to her skin like a moist blanket. It felt like late summer, though for all she knew, it could have been winter in this world. The air was breathable, and the smells of the forest were strong around her, but there was a sharp under smell, as if something had been burning for a very long time. Larkspur circled around her legs, purring and rubbing his head against her shins. She reached down to pet him and swatted big, hungry mosquitoes away with her other hand.

  The woman came to a stop a few feet away, and Aster got a good look at her. She had skin the color of deep chocolate, and wore a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of her face in shadow, but Aster could see the white of her smile in the darkness and relaxed. She was wearing a long dress with big blue hydrangeas all over it, which seemed more appropriate for an afternoon tea in a flower garden than a late evening stroll through the woods. She shined her light in Aster’s face. “Pink hair, purple eyes. Yep, you be the one.”

  Aster stood up and half-heartedly brushed at her skirts. “Miss Ivy?”

  “The one and only, darlin’.” Her accent was similar to Aster’s, but she spoke in this land’s language. Aster was relieved to find that her mother had been right. She could comprehend it. At least on a basic level.

  “Um, hello. I, uh, just came through.”

  “Yeah. I heard you comin’ before I even got out the car.”

  Aster dropped her gaze. “I suppose I had a… moment.”

  Her smile turned sympathetic. “They all do, sweetie. They all do. Don’t you feel bad about that. How is my dear Dahlia these days?”

  “She is well. But tired.”

  “I guess she would be. She’s probably worried sick about you. But she also knows I take good care of my girls here. You’re in good hands.”

  Aster pointed to the light. “Is that Old Magic?”

  Miss Ivy burst out into a rich belly laugh that seemed to make the whole forest light up. “Honey, the only Old Magic you’ll see powering one of these babies is called a Duracell battery.” She took one of Aster’s bags and started walking back down the trail, still chuckling a little. “I’m parked on a road just down this hill. Watch out for some of the blackberry brambles along the
trail. They’re fulla thorns.”

  “Will we be riding horses to town?”

  Miss Ivy laughed again. It wasn’t mean-spirited. She seemed truly delighted by Aster’s naivety. “I suppose you could say that. There’s horses. About two-hundred of ‘em.”

  Aster’s mind whirled at the thought of so many animals. Why in the world would they require so many just to transport the two of them. She broke into a trot to keep up and hoped she wouldn’t turn an ankle on a rock or something along the bumpy path.

  A few minutes later, they reached the bottom of the path, which met up with a packed dirt passage just wide enough to be considered a road. Aster could make out a red boxy shape with two bigger beams of light spilling from one end. She wondered how many Dural-Sell batteries it took to power those. The vehicle sat up on large wheels, making it look like a very strange marriage between wagon and carriage. “Where are the horses?”

  Ivy pulled open a back door and tossed in Aster’s bags. Larkspur hopped in after them and curled up on the seat, as if all this were just as familiar to him as Ellemire. “They’re all under the hood, darlin’. Don’t take it literally, though. Just one of those things you’ll learn the longer you’re over here. This here is called a Sport Utility Vehicle. I call it Roger for short. He’s my one true love who always treats me right and does exactly as I say. You’ll discover how rare that is in both man and car someday.”

  She opened another door and gestured inside. “You sit here. I’ll help you with the seatbelt in a sec. Oh, and by the way, this road gets a little bumpy, so try not to puke on my new floormats if you can help it. I brought along some candied ginger just in case.”

  The inside of Roger smelled like cloves. When Ivy got in and lit a dark brown cigarette, Aster figured out why. Papa Quercus smoked something very similar in a pipe, and the scent made her feel a little homesick. After watching Ivy’s demonstrations with the seatbelt, she got herself buckled in and they were off with a roar. Aster’s hands flailed around for any place she could grab on and hold tight. “This feels dangerous!” she shouted, squeezing her eyes shut. Her stomach jounced in perfect time with the vehicle and she was thankful she hadn’t eaten before coming here.