by Anne Bishop
There was nothing here for people like Vito, who had become heart weary to the point of becoming mind-sick because he had no way of finding what his heart needed.
He hadn’t done anything that he wouldn’t have done back home. Of course, the timing could have been better. Having four inmates disappear—especially the ones who vanished from locked rooms—hadn’t done anything good for Danyal’s emotional balance. With a little more time, he was certain he could have convinced the Shaman of the value of giving people another way to find their place in the world. But now two of the Shamans had been murdered, and those deaths would feed the Dark currents in the city.
He didn’t have time. None of them had time to wait and see if all the problems would cross over a bridge or take a wrong turn and simply go away.
He had a stone in his pocket that he could make into a one-shot bridge that would take him back to the Den of Iniquity. He could be home in a minute. Or maybe, since Michael was the person looking for him, he could go to Dunberry or Foggy Downs, just in case Glorianna’s landscapes were out of reach. Or he could go to Darling’s Harbor, where Caitlin Marie now lived. There was a stationary bridge connecting Darling’s Harbor to Aurora. Caitlin could cross over and ask the family to meet him in Darling’s Harbor. He had options, and the “come home” messages Ephemera was leaving on the Magician’s behalf told him clear enough he didn’t have to leave his family behind, no matter where he’d gone.
If he made a one-shot bridge to Sanctuary and gave it to Danyal, it was likely the Shaman would reach that Place of Light. He was sure Danyal would benefit from talking with Yoshani.
The problem wasn’t leaving; the problem was how to get back. If two landscapes didn’t resonate with each other, a bridge couldn’t be made to connect them. Finding help wouldn’t matter if no one could get back here. He’d thought about it for days now and came to the same conclusion every time: he couldn’t count on returning.
The other thing he’d thought about was whether a Tryad could use any kind of bridge. Would the aspect in view be the deciding factor of where they could go, or would a place have to resonate with all three of them for them to safely cross over? What would happen to them on a resonating bridge that determined a person’s destination by matching what was held in that person’s heart?
Zhahar. So much passion waiting to be touched. He hadn’t forgotten Zeela’s comment about Zhahar wanting to rub skin with him. Oh, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. And he hadn’t dismissed that this woman had come into an unknown city, alone, to find help for her people. He understood that kind of commitment too.
He wanted to know her better, wanted to know her in ways an inmate couldn’t know a Handler. He might be given extra privileges—or had been until those four men disappeared—but he was still an inmate, and being intimate with him would cost Zhahar her job.
He wanted to see her and wasn’t sure he ever would. Not well enough. Not for all the fine details he’d like to know. But he would settle for not seeing her well over not seeing her at all.
If the island still answered to him, he could have brought Zhahar and Danyal with him. Even if they couldn’t step onto the landscape he’d chosen, his family could have gathered on the island to talk to them.
There was a possibility for Zhahar and her people: that triangle of grass that had appeared in Glorianna’s garden. A dark landscape that wasn’t quite dark, that almost had a border that connected it with the Den, but wouldn’t truly be connected until it became one of Glorianna’s—or Belladonna’s—landscapes.
A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bring these people and these lands to the attention of Glorianna Belladonna and ask her for help. But Glorianna Belladonna didn’t exist in the same way anymore. While he didn’t know which side of his sister would be drawn to Vision, he knew Zhahar’s homeland called to Belladonna, the monster. So it came down to one question: would bringing Vision and Zhahar’s homeland to Belladonna’s attention give these people the help they needed or destroy them?
Danyal left the Asylum and walked for hours, stopping every so often at a shop or a house to ask for a drink of water. Except for that brief contact, he spoke to no one.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking or even quite where he was when he stopped to rest beneath a palm tree and realized he’d let grief lead him to physical imprudence.
Heat sick. He knew the symptoms. The day after he’d arrived at the Asylum, Benham had made sure he knew what to look for, in him and in Handlers, Helpers, and inmates.
“Shaman?”
He turned toward the voice, but it still took him a moment to see the man standing a few paces away from him.
Shadowman.
“Do you need help, Shaman?”
Yes, he needed help and…
Danyal looked in the opposite direction and spotted the bridge arching over a channel of water.
Cross the bridge, a voice whispered. You’ll find the answers you seek on the other side of the bridge.
Did he recognize that voice? Had it scratched at him in dreams?
When he turned back, the shadowman was standing right in front of him, holding a jug.
“Water?” the man asked.
“Who…?”
“I’m an Apothecary.”
“I don’t remember a bridge near the shadow streets,” Danyal said as he accepted the jug. He took some water, letting it ease the dryness in his mouth before swallowing.
“There isn’t one,” the Apothecary replied. “I closed up my shop. Decided it was time to do some traveling. My wagon is right over there.”
“Where are you going?” Danyal asked.
The Apothecary smiled grimly. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t be on that street anymore. Will you give me your blessing, Shaman?”
“May your heart travel lightly,” Danyal said, letting the words flow through his own heart to make them the voice of the world.
The Apothecary hesitated. “I’m not heading in any particular direction. Can I give you a ride back to the Asylum?”
What you seek is on the other side of the bridge, the whispering voice insisted. Hurry, before it’s gone.
Something in Danyal shivered. “How did you know I’m from the Asylum?”
“Saw you on the street a while back, but you didn’t see me. A couple of days after that, a woman came into my shop. Has a long scar on her left arm. Said she was there for the Shaman who was the Asylum’s Keeper.”
Danyal looked toward the bridge again and frowned. Was the land on the other side of the bridge fading? He handed the jug back to the Apothecary. “I would like a ride, but there is something I need to look at first. This will take only a few minutes.” Some instinct made him add, “The woman you saw is named Zeela. Her sister Zhahar works as a Handler.”
“I’ll get my horse and wagon and wait for you,” the Apothecary said.
A little breeze suddenly played with the hem of Danyal’s white robe. “Wait.” He said nothing more until he was sure he had the man’s full attention. “If anything…odd…happens around that bridge, I need you to go to the Asylum and report what you saw to a man named Lee. He has knowledge that is not common to our city, and everyone should listen to whatever he says.”
“You expecting trouble?” the Apothecary asked sharply.
What you seek is on the other side of the bridge, the whispering voice insisted again.
“I don’t know,” Danyal replied. He walked toward the arched bridge. Walked across the bridge. Stopped before taking that last step.
The land looked…strange. Barren. Sticky.
Sticky webs and treacherous bogs.
Hurry, the voice whispered.
He was heat sick. What was he really hearing?
???
A puff of air in his face, bringing the scent of stinkweed and turd plants. Combined with the heat, the smell was enough to make him gag.
If he took the last step, was there someone on the other side of the bridge who had the
answers to what was happening in Vision?
!!!
One foot on the ground now while the other remained on the bridge.
Seeing the glint of something poking out of the dirt at the edge of the bridge, Danyal took that last step, bent down, and picked up the gold pocket watch. When he straightened up…
Five of them. Two burly men holding clubs. The two wizards, Pugnos and Styks, who claimed to be Lee’s uncles.
The last one wasn’t human. Danyal couldn’t hold on to the details of the face to see it, except to know it was dark-skinned, had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
Mouth full of worms. Sweets filled with poison. The slow death of a city.
Dark Guide.
“You shouldn’t have interfered, Shaman,” the Dark Guide said. “You shouldn’t have hidden the Bridge from us by hiding the Asylum. You have become more than an inconvenience, so you will disappear.”
The voice sounded like claws slicing through his flesh.
Danyal swallowed hard and eased one foot back until his heel rested on the bridge. He needed help. He needed a way to escape.
this way
The pocket watch began to tingle. His hand tightened over it as he eased his foot back a little farther.
Pugnos and Styks rubbed their right thumbs over the pads of their first two fingers—and smiled viciously.
The Shamans had no understanding of these wizards, no way to fight this thing. He had to get back to the Asylum so that Lee could help him find the people who did understand.
Before all the Shamans died.
Before Vision disappeared.
this way
The pocket watch felt warmer.
“Do you think you can outrun wizards’ lightning?” the Dark Guide asked, laughing. “Try.”
Let my heart guide me to what I seek. Danyal sent that wish into the world with all the strength he had.
The pocket watch tingled so hard it buzzed against his palm.
Danyal spun around and ran back across the bridge.
He saw the Apothecary standing next to the horse and traveling wagon. As his foot touched the apex of the bridge, something struck his right shoulder and hip, burning through his robe and clothes, burning through skin and into muscle.
He stumbled, staggered, and almost fell as he adjusted to the footing of the cobblestone street in front of him.
Night instead of afternoon sun, and a refreshing crispness in the air that heralded a change of seasons. Cobblestone street instead of packed earth. Colored lights on poles gave the place a festive look, but…
Something out of nightmare stepped out of one of the buildings—a cross between a man and a bull. Danyal lurched away from it and gasped at the pain in his shoulder and hip.
He kept moving down the street, and with every step the tingling in the pocket watch faded a little more.
He reached a place that had a courtyard with tables and erotic statues. Suddenly a dark-haired man stepped out into the street a few paces in front of Danyal. Another man, this one with light brown hair, stepped out beside the first. A third, a blond, moved in front of a woman.
The dark-haired man rubbed his right thumb against finger pads. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I seek…help,” Danyal said.
“There’s some grand music in him,” the brown-haired man said quietly.
“That doesn’t explain what he’s doing here,” the dark-haired man replied.
“Bridge,” Danyal gasped. Hard to think past the pain. Hard to breathe past the pain. “And…this.” He opened his hand.
“Lady’s mercy,” the brown-haired man said. “I asked the wild child to take the pocket watches to Lee.”
The dark-haired man moved close enough for Danyal to see the sharp green eyes. “You know Lee?”
“Y-yes. As…y…lum.” His legs began to buckle. If he asked, would they give him water? “H-heat sick.”
Another male voice, probably the blond, said, “Daylight, Sebastian! He’s been hit by lightning!”
Sounds. Voices. Movement. Everything coated in thick syrup. Hands taking away his clothes. Hands gently touching him. The relief of cool water drawing the heat from his skin. Feeling ice-cold and shivering uncontrollably while he burned.
Sounds. Voices. Movement. Then music, so familiar and nothing he’d heard before, wrapped around him, and everything else went away.
Chapter 19
Zhahar hurried to the visitor’s gate with Kobrah and Nik on her heels. A man who had news about Shaman Danyal. A man who wouldn’t speak to anyone except Zeela’s sister and Lee.
=Apothecary,= Zeela said as soon as they saw the man standing next to a horse and traveling wagon.
“Good day to you,” Zhahar said, relaxing a little now that Zeela identified the man.
The Apothecary tipped his head in a slight bow.
She glanced at the horse and wagon. “You wanted to—”
“Zhahar!”
Lee ran toward her, followed by Denys, who didn’t have the speed to catch him.
“The drops have helped his eyes,” the Apothecary murmured. “That is good.”
*How did he know the eyedrops were for Lee?* Zhahar asked.
=Probably figured that out because of the dark glasses,= Zeela replied dryly.
Then Lee was beside her, then a little in front of her, pushing her back a step. His right hand remained in a tight fist, as if he were holding something.
The Apothecary studied Lee. “I bring news, nothing more. If you are Lee, the Shaman told me to report to you.”
“Then why ask for Zhahar?” Lee said, making it clear with posture and voice that he wasn’t accepting anything on faith—and if a person wanted to stay safe, the answers had better be to his liking.
She hadn’t thought Lee could be dangerous—until now.
“Her sister Zeela has dealt with me,” the Apothecary said. “I thought if I was acknowledged by someone here, you would be more inclined to listen.”
Lee nodded. “All right. We’re listening.”
“He asked for me,” Zhahar muttered.
“In order to report to me,” Lee replied.
=Don’t argue with him,= Zeela whispered. =Right now he is more our mothers’ equal than ours.=
Since she understood what that meant, Zhahar clenched her teeth and kept quiet.
“The Shaman disappeared,” the Apothecary said. “When I came across him, he was heat sick. I offered him a ride back to the Asylum, and he accepted, but there was something on the other side of a bridge that he wanted to see. I fetched my horse and wagon and stood in the shade of a palm tree, unseen by watchful eyes.” He gave Lee a strange smile. “A gift given to us by the world for being shadowmen. So the Shaman crossed the bridge and picked up something. When he straightened, I saw five men. I couldn’t see them clearly, but after what I saw moments later, I knew they were the reason the shadow streets were turning dark, even for people like me. They were the reason I decided to pack my wagon and leave.”
“Those men took Danyal?” Zhahar asked. “They took a Shaman?”
“No. Whatever was said…The Shaman turned and ran. Halfway across the bridge, lightning shot out of the fingers of two of the men. As it struck him, the Shaman disappeared.” The Apothecary studied Lee. “You understand this? The Shaman said we should all listen to you.”
Kobrah stood tense and trembling beside her. Nik and Denys were behind her, muttering to each other. But she knew all three of them were eyeing Lee, especially after he slipped his fist in his trouser pocket and then withdrew an open hand.
What had he been holding?
“You know what this is,” the Apothecary said, watching Lee. “You have seen these kinds of shadows.”
“I’ve seen more than shadows,” Lee replied. “And, yes, I know what this is.”
Those dark glasses hid too much, and Zhahar wished she could see his eyes.
=Be careful,= Zeela warned. =He’s changed.=
*No,* Z
hahar replied slowly. *We’re just seeing who he really is.*
“How could lightning come from a man’s fingers?” Nik asked.
“Two men were killed on a shadow street by such lightning,” the Apothecary replied. “I assure you it exists.”
“Wizards’ lightning,” Lee said. “It exists, Nik, and it’s deadly. You said Danyal picked up something on the other side of the bridge. Did you see what it was?”
It took Zhahar a moment to realize the last part was directed at the Apothecary, who shook his head.
“His hand was closed over it when he was running across the bridge. But I did see something bright dangling from his fist.”
“Like a gold chain?”
“Perhaps.”
Lee drew in a breath and huffed it out. He looked toward her but turned enough to include Nik and Denys. “If the Shaman is gone, who’s in charge of the Asylum?”
“Meddik Benham would have the most authority after the Keeper,” Nik replied.
Now Lee turned his head toward the Apothecary. “You have any room to spare in that wagon?”
“It’s designed to be both shop and home for a traveling Apothecary, but if someone sat on the driving seat with me, there would be room for two or three more to hide inside.”
“Will you help us?”
The Apothecary gave Lee a strange smile. “A voice of the world told me to listen to you, so I will give you whatever help I can.”
“Lee?” Zhahar placed a hand on his arm. “What are you thinking?”
“Danyal’s gone. I know how he disappeared but not where he’s gone—or if he’ll ever find his way back. Whatever he did to hide this place from the wizards and the Dark Guide probably will fade without him. I need to be gone before that happens, and you need to go with me. You and Kobrah. Nik? Denys? The men who claimed to be my uncles are actually wizards who have that deadly lightning. If they show up, you tell them one of the Handlers thought she was in love with an inmate, helped him escape, and ran off with him. Zhahar, where is your homeland’s connection to Vision?”
She stared at him, shocked. “Lee…”
“We don’t have time for secrets.” There was a hardness in Lee’s voice she’d never heard before. “There might be a way to save this city from the wizards and Dark Guide. There might be a way to save your people. Both of those things depend on me getting to your homeland before the wizards catch me.”