by Daniel Huber
"If you have, I must have forgotten, so you should probably tell me again."
"The moonlight suits you, Quade." The sudden graze of her lips on his jaw brought his focus back down and as he squeezed her tight against him, she laughed, and pushed him gently away. "Come on, we should go before it gets any later. He may be asleep as it is."
Trina led the way from the Castle of Sighs and toward the stables, where two horses, one black and one chestnut, were already saddled and waiting patiently, as if they knew they would be taken out for a moonlight ride. A lantern and a sizeable rucksack were securely attached to one of the horses, and Quade could easily imagine what was inside; supplies, food, whatever comforts Trina saw fit to deliver. As they each led their mount from the stalls Lunette, Trina's more usual riding horse whinnied from her post in protest. Trina reached a reassuring hand out to stroke the white mare's neck and quietly whispered, "shhh," as they passed, the sound of eight hooves clopping steadily on the clay floor. As soon as they cleared the stable door, Trina sprung lightly into her saddle, and Quade did the same. This wasn't the first time he'd been on a midnight excursion for some cause that Trina was championing, though it had been quite awhile since the last time they'd snuck out at this late hour.
Quade watched as Trina turned her horse in the direction of the north wood, sitting tall in the saddle, her black cloak swirling around as the wind caught its underside. In a flash her horse broke into a steady gallop, and Quade followed her lead, watching the black garment as it flowed out behind her and the moonlight glinted off her hair.
Mimic strut precariously along a beam near the ceiling, turning and spinning as she walked along. "Well," she said impatiently, "shall we get to it?"
"No, I think not," Echo replied, watching the pair ride from the stable, across the hill that led to open fields, and toward the woods. "Let young lovers have the moon."
Mimic fell from the beam and caught herself, hovering in midair.
"What?" she exclaimed, hopping up and down in agitation. "The SanFear have arrived! Have you become so passive that you see fit not to tell him at all?"
"There is nothing he can do alone to stop what will occur," Echo replied, her voice level. "Even if he knew in advance. Always, it must be the three. 'Tis too late now, besides. Let them go. It may be a long while before they have such a time together again."
Mimic turned to see Quade and Trina riding stealthily across the meadow. She looked back to Echo, drifting over to lean across the ceiling beam next to her counterpart. As the two on horseback disappeared into the dark confines of the wood, Mimic bumped her shoulder against Echo's, sending a thin cloud of blue and gold dust into the air.
"Sentimental fool, " she said.
"Heartless wench," Echo replied, and then they watched the darkness in silence.
The path through the north wood was a shortcut from the heart of the kingdom to the Sterling Sea, but most people avoided the dense thicket of trees, preferring to trail along the outskirts, even though by horseback it added a half hour onto the journey. Trina always rode through the woods. She favored the quiet serenity of the trees and the sounds of all the animals that lived within their tall surrounds.
"He said his spot was close enough to hear the crashing waves of the sea at night," Trina said as they rode. "I'd imagine we could see it from here, if we pass by. Don't you think?"
"Possibly," Quade answered, peering into the thicket. The only light was that of the twin moons, and beyond twenty paces or so, the trees got too thick to be penetrated by that. "Depends on how good his hearing is, I suppose."
"Pretty good, I'd wager," she said, stopping her horse to survey the edge of the wood for a moment. Quade pulled up next to her, glanced over the shadows of the darkened trees, then looked back to Trina as she stared intensely. His horse neighed softly and bent its head against Trina's horse, pushing it as if for attention.
"Hush, Dashus." Quade patted against the stallion's muscular shoulder, and he quieted, but shifted on his hoofed feet, as if anxious to ride again.
"There," Trina said suddenly, pointing to a barely visible flicker of light within the darkness of the trees. She guided her mount toward it, back into the interior of the wood, and Quade followed. As they neared the faint light, they found a small tent the illuminating glow from a lamp inside it giving away its otherwise hidden location. Trina and Quade dismounted some distance from the tent, and walked their horses close to the clearing, then tied them to thick tree branches and walked toward the handmade canvas shelter. The fabric that made up the exterior was patched in many places with ill-matching cloth, but it seemed to be secure, and was large enough to accommodate several people inside, if necessary. As they came closer to the tent, the two of them took careful steps, and Quade put a protective hand on Trina's back as she walked.
"Lamont," she called quietly into the night. "Lamont…is that you?"
They stood several paces away from the tent, Quade holding the lantern in one hand, Trina shouldering the bag heavy with offerings. There was a stir from within the confines of the shelter, and a rough and age-weary voice called out.
"Did someone call? Was that my name that I heard?"
Trina and Quade exchanged a glance. "Yes Lamont, hello," Trina said, "I'm sorry it's so late that I've come calling, but I have some things for you. Do you remember? I'm the girl from the Marketplace on Seventh Day."
The flaps on the entry of the tent parted and a man appeared from within, staring out with no focus into the night. "The girl from the Marketplace! I thought I knew that voice. Indeed! Come inside won't you? Both of you…you've not come alone, I know?"
Trina stepped closer, and bent to stoop as Lamont gallantly held the flap of his tent open for her to enter. Quade followed tentatively. The inside of the tent was basic but appeared clean, a bedroll stretching the length of the back, various necessities stacked neatly along the interior walls.
"No, I've not come alone, but I'm not with the same friend. A different friend accompanies me, a gentleman, in fact." The blind man turned his head toward Quade, appearing that he could see him, were it not for the lack of focus in his eyes. He held out a gnarled old hand in offering.
"Good. Yes, very good that you should ride tonight in the company of your young man. The night is deep and I'd hate to think of you riding alone in the woods." He shook Quade's hand firmly, and smiled between them, revealing a couple of missing teeth in his warm grin. "Although, I suspect that you know these woods well enough to never get lost in them, am I right?"
"Yes you are," Trina answered with a laugh. She and Quade sat down, and she shrugged her shoulder bag to the floor. "Lamont, I've brought you some things. I hope you'll accept them as gifts from my home to yours." She opened up the rucksack and produced what was inside. "A warm blanket, a supply of dried fruits and nuts. Kindling for your lantern and some clothes, trousers and shirts. And finally this," Trina reached into a pocket inside her cape and pulled out a tiny flute. "You mentioned that you used to carve and play kava flutes, so I thought I'd bring you one." She handed the small instrument to the man, reaching to place it in his palm. He gasped in wondrous surprise as his fingers curled around the wooden fife, delicately touching the carved gills along the side, the blowholes on the top. "This one was mine, but I have several of them, and can't play at all anyway, so I'd be happy for you to have it."
The old man brought the pipe to his lips and blew gently into the mouthpiece. Its lilting whistle carried sweetly inside the walls of the tent, and the knotty old fingers moved with what was surely a once practiced ease over the tiny holes along the top. Lamont looked down for a moment, grasping the instrument in his hand, and when he looked up again, his eyes were moist.
"Such tender memories," he said wistfully. "The feel of a kava flute…another time, another place." He thought for a moment then looked in Trina's direction. "Thank you," he said. "I shall cherish it always. I am honored, though not deserving, Daughter Keystone Kitrina Val-Vassu, of your most generou
s gifts."
Trina and Quade both blanched, and looked to one another in numb shock. She opened her mouth to say something, but words escaped her and no more than a stuttering sound came forth. Lamont smiled, still holding the flute.
"Ah, yes. I may be blind my dear, but not so blind that I can't see the spirit. You shine brightly like a beacon, Kitrina. And though my eyes fail me now my senses do not, and I shall always recognize a life force so brilliant as yours."
"And in the Marketplace?" Trina asked breathlessly, still reeling from his discovery. "You knew all along that it was me?"
"Oh, yes my dear. You and your fair faced friend. Every week without fail I know that you are there. And sometimes you see me, and sometimes you don't. But I can always tell when you arrive; you from your luminous spirit, and she, from that contagious laugh of hers."
"No one else knows," Trina said softly.
"And no one ever shall," Lamont replied, reaching out to touch her hand. "Your secret is safe with me, Daughter Keystone. And who would I tell, besides? If I went round saying that Daughter Kitrina and her beloved Quade paid my humble tent a visit, who do you think would believe that?" He smiled and leaned back. "They'd consider me touched is what would happen. And then I'd be mad, on top of blind. No, my dear. This moment is our knowledge alone. This, I can promise you."
Trina and Quade sat in silence for a minute until Trina spoke again.
"Why then, don't you take advantage of the kingdom's assistance?" she asked gently. "All you need do is ask, and you would be provided with a more suitable home and means to support yourself, food and supplies. This was always my family's primary goal, to keep the citizens of Bethel in comfort and safety."
Lamont shook his head, but didn't appear saddened or annoyed by the inquisition. "Kitrina…esteemed Keystone's Daughter…I've lived a life of debauchery, gambling and thievery, dishonest at best, and abhorrent at worst. I traveled my years away in the stars, roving from planet to planet, using trickery and deceit to get along. Now I've come home to Bethel to die. I'm old, very old. And this existence is what I've earned. Better in fact, than what I've earned. To be here on Bethel is to be in a sanctuary. And the modest means by which I live are all I require. This tent, these woods, and the kindness of strangers is my fate." He pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his wrinkled neck, and shifted on the floor. "It's enough for me, just to be home."
Trina sat, still a bit puzzled, when she felt Quade's hand on her knee. She looked up to him then, looked back to Lamont. The old man was in tattered clothes, surrounded by his simple possessions, but he wasn't miserable. He might even have been some level of content, and she sighed, resigning herself to that knowledge. Lamont raised the flute to his lips again, and began to play a slow and melodic tune, and the sweet notes of the flute's song carried gently into the deep night as the three of them sat inside the tent, sharing in the moment and the music.
Trina and Quade's horses trotted at a steady clip along the cliff's edge, and they rode in silence, lost in their own thoughts. The twin moons reflected majestically off the dark water of the sea, and the waves crashed on the rocks below. They took the long way back without question or decision, enjoying the perfection of the night. The air rich with the smell of the sea touched their senses, salty mist rising up from the breakers as they rode along the edge of the trees and finally across the meadow. Once back at the stables, their horses unsaddled and settled for the night, Quade walked with Trina back to their meeting place at the south wall.
From where they were facing, they couldn't see the highest window in the castle's watchtower. A hand rested against the glass, its tension lessening now. In the darkness, the green glow cast from an oval ring on one finger lit a faint circle on the pane. The figure turned away from the window, relieved now that his duty was fulfilled, and he disappeared into the safe shadows of the castle's confines.
Quade hugged Trina close once again, squeezing her extra tight before he let go.
"I love your sentimental soul, my Trina," he said as he released her from his embrace. "You made that old man very happy tonight."
"He did seem happy," the slightest level of puzzlement in her voice. "I can't question it because I've seen it with my own eyes, but it baffles me how anyone would be happier living in a tent when he could have a proper home."
Quade squeezed her hand and shook his head. "I know it's hard for you to realize, Trina, but even the worst on Bethel is paradise compared to the best on many other worlds." She looked up at him, a curious expression on her face.
"Clea said that very same thing this afternoon," she said, and laughed. "Oh Quade, sometimes I wish I could travel the stars with you. I know there's so many things out there to see, places to experience." She thought for just a moment then started to turn. "But enough for now. Tomorrow comes quickly when one stays up so late."
Quade still held onto her hand as she walked, and stopped her as he pulled it to his lips to plant a kiss on her fingers. She looked back at him as he released her.
"Good night my love," she whispered, "see you in the morning?"
"Of course," he replied with a slight gratuitous bow, and the last thing he saw as she disappeared around the corner was the wide smile that spread across her face.
Quade walked across the grounds to where his land craft was waiting, looking over his shoulder occasionally until he saw a dim light go on inside of Trina's bedroom. Then he turned his back to the castle and let a deep frown settle in his expression. He felt nauseated; the same cold, frighteningly familiar nausea that he'd only felt once before in his life, once before only days ago. The memory of the Bet/Kos nexus filled his mind as the tingling burn of his nerves swept through his skin. Why should he feel such a way here at home? And why was the feeling diminishing with every step he took away from the castle? As he boarded his land craft, Quade wondered why a night so perfect as the one he'd just had, should be tainted with a memory so wretched as that.
CHAPTER 12
Quade walked in the door of his house and closed it behind him, leaning against it and staring into the darkness. He felt better now, felt normal, even though it was late and he was tired. The nausea had passed, and being inside his home once again gave him hope for some level of normality. He reached to the wall, pressed his hand into the illumination panel and prompted the lights on.
There, in his house, in his entry room, were the two creatures that had been on his ship, and that had again showed themselves when he'd been speaking with the Keystone.
Quade jumped from surprise, but managed to suppress a startled shout. He covered his eyes with his hand, tilted his face to the ceiling shaking his head and simply said, "Why?"
After a moment of silent prayers wishing that when he again opened his eyes that the proof of his insanity would have disappeared, he looked through his spread fingers and saw the blue creature, saw the gold creature and let out an exasperated groan.
"What?" he demanded, feeling a little more in command now that he was in his own home. "What is it that you want from me now? To further shred my peace of mind? To tell me again that the fate of the world lies in my hands? Or perhaps to tell me why it's true that someone close to me knows of this place that doesn't exist, this place called P'cadia?"
"So you have found one," said the blue creature, taking flight, as she now assumed a similar, though slightly larger size that she had earlier that day, that morning as the two of them flitted around the Keystone's head.
"Found one? Found nothing! She gave me no vital information! And then she left."
"The Risk, no doubt," said the gold creature, floating in the air to hover beside the blue one. Quade looked at them in disbelief, then advanced to where they were hanging, midair, standing as though suspended.
"How can you be real?" Quade said it more to himself than anything, and the blue creature spoke.
"How would you wish for us to be more real than this, Quade?" she asked. "Perhaps we owe you an introduction. We were somewhat uncer
emonious in our initial appearance. I am Echo, and she, my counterpart, is Mimic."
"What are you?" Quade asked, studying them more closely than he had before. They were just like tiny little human girls. Except that one was blue. And one was gold.
"To you Quade, we are emissaries."
"Emissaries? To whom? Nothing that's ever come from Bethel is a creature of your variety."
"That is because we are not of Bethel."
"We are messengers of the gods." The blue one, Echo, still spoke, but now the gold one finished her sentence.
"And therefore, serve a higher purpose than anything of Bethel," said Mimic.
"Ever so mighty, she," said Echo.
"And ever so hopeful, thee!" Mimic countered, kicking at the air, sending a dust of glimmering gold powder in Echo's direction.
"This is impossible," Quade said. He looked back and forth at one, then the other. Echo and Mimic. Was that supposed to mean something? They spoke like humans, and had a strange accent the likes of which he had never before heard. But their coloring and the dust that fell lightly from their strangely colored skin made them otherworldly. Though shaped like children their faces were ageless, and much as they confused him with their ambiguity, they carried on their words a wisdom that would lend them to be much older than they appeared.
"Still you've said nothing! I ask again what are you?"
"We have already told you," said Echo. "We are emissaries."
"Alright, then. Emissaries. I'll give you that, for what it's worth. But what I meant, is… what are you? Fairies? Cherubs? Nymphs? Surely some form of mythical creature, in keeping with the spirit of this cruel scenario that you plague me with!" Mimic turned circles in the air, laughing as if Quade had said something incredibly funny.
"Ha!" she chided, "Cherubs! As well we might be! Cherubs to some sarcastic imitation of our own flawed superiors! A cherub, dear Echo! Forgive me while I turn inside out with laughter!"