by kubasik
I did not know how to answer that paralyzed? wounded? How would we ever communicate? Instead I laughed a bitter laugh. Years earlier Releana had asked me similar questions, and we had played similar games in our attempts to communicate. I had been mute then. Now I had my voice, but the only person who could help me was deaf and blind and lacked all sense of touch. My life was full of ruined people.
Where did they all come from? Wasn't there supposed to be some happiness floating around in the Universe?
She asked me if I could get up. She told me to open my mouth three times for no, twice for yes. I told her no. She asked if bones were broken. I said yes, if only because it was closer to the condition I was in. She stood. "I think I have something that might help," she said. She started leave, then realized she had completely lost her orientation. She started off again, determined, reached the wall, followed it until she found the stairs. Then was on her way up. Slowly. Painfully slowly.
I did not want her to go, and said as much, knowing full well it was futile. But the thought of lying helpless on the floor was too much. How long would it take her to make her way up the stairs? How long to find whatever it was she thought might help me?
I watched her ascend the stairs. Just seeing the effort of her steps made me tired. I wondered briefly why she had come all the way down the stairs to get a drink of water. I knew the water might be magical in nature. But if that was the case, why didn't she just remain in the entrance hall?
During our strange chase, when she had been trying to find me, I had moved closer to the stairs. I could just now make out the Theran words carved into the wall. As I had suspected, they were not part of the tower's original design. It seemed possible that the woman herself had placed them in the wall, carving them with incredible care and concentration.
I was not fluent in Theran pictographs, but could, with work, translate them. So, with nothing else to do as I waited, I began to read the words. The first two sentences said: MY NAME IS KYRETHE. I DO NOT KNOW WHERE I AM.
As I read the words, I once again felt the "shadow" present in the room—the same one that had haunted me all my life. The same one that had been with me when I had held Neden's hand. I turned my head as much as I could, but could see nothing. Sunlight still flooded the room shiny yellow. The sight was incongruous. The day seemed so light and airy, yet the mood of the tower so brooding and solitary.
Looking back up at the two sentences I'd translated, a tension began working its way through my chest. The tower held a terror I had not—could not—have anticipated. Even with the limits on my knowledge of her situation, I could surmise that the woman, Kyrethe, led a more miserable life than anyone I had ever met. I wanted to leave. I was already soaked in my pain, and did not think I could take in any more. I thought I would drown in despair if she and I became connected in any way. I resolved to take what help she could offer, and help her in return, but to keep myself safe from her. To keep a wall—a wall to prevent our souls from meeting—between us.
When I turned back to the wall to read further, I found my vision had blurred. Exhaustion had returned—the encounter with Kyrethe had drained me. Sleep slowly overcame me.
Dying, I thought, would not be bad if I could do it in my sleep. An easy escape from it all. I drifted off.
* * *
I did not die.
Kyrethe woke me when she shoved her hand into my shoulder. Before I could even take in what was happening, her hands were upon me, clumsily searching for my face. She found it, found my jaw, then squeezed my cheeks together to make me open my mouth.
"This is a healing potion," she said. She had brought me a crystal vial filled with sparkling blue liquid. I wanted to ask her how she could possibly know that she'd selected the right vial, but the potion was already pouring into my throat. It did indeed taste like other elixirs I had used to heal myself over the years. More potent than most. The aftertaste brought to mind cool days in the jungle, along a wide river, with fruit and cheese sitting on my lap.
"Does that make you feel better?"
She put her hand over my mouth and I opened my lips wide twice.
"Good. I was hoping it was the right potion."
I opened my mouth wide again, this time in horror.
She laughed. "Just joking. Just joking." Unlike her words, her laugh was unaffected by her inability to hear. Her joy came out clear as a stream tumbling over a cliff, sparkling down to become a lovely pool of water. Her smile transformed her ruined and scraped flesh, bringing forth a person full of life and passion.
She forced her mirth down, and touched my chest. "I hope it helps. I have more if we need it. I hope you feel better. Everything will be all right." Then she said, "There is something I must know before I retire." Only then did I realize that the sun had begun to set. Hours had passed while she had been laboriously ascending and descending the stairs. "I don't know if this will make sense to you. I don't even know if my brother still lives. But did a man named Mordom bring you here?"
6
"Who are you?" I asked abruptly, my voice creaking with fear.
She had her hand at my mouth, expecting me to use her simple code to answer yes or no.
"I can't understand you," she said awkwardly. "Please." I could see she was very disappointed with herself for not understanding me. Despite her condition, she still expected so much from herself. My initial fear, that she would drag me down into an emotional quagmire, seemed unfounded. I became envious of her. She had a strength I had never known.
"Do you know Mordom?" she asked, and this time I replied yes, using the code.
"He sent you here?”
I didn't know how to answer that question. He did bring me here, but he didn't send me here. I decided to answer yes. Her smile returned, slowly this time. "Did he send you to free me?" I said no. Her smile left her, and for the first time she looked very sad. Finally, after a heavy sigh, she asked, "Then, you are here by accident?"
I thought of the child, encouraging me to leave Neden behind and jump off the ship.
(Where was that damned baby?) I did not mean to arrive on a solitary island in the middle of Death's Sea. But I did choose to jump. Accident? It was impossible to answer. When one really tries to speak the truth of one's life, answers of yes or no seldom do. I think that's why we all spend so much time talking. In creating so many sentences and words we're trying to stumble across an explanation for ourselves.
I finally settled on the answer yes. I did not want her thinking I had come to find her.
"How is my brother?" Her tone reminded me of my castle of stars. Precise. Sparse. Just the outline of pain, allowing for rooms of heat. Then, realizing I could not answer, she smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry. Here. Let me get you something to drink." She made her way to the fountain, pulled the silver cup from the small shelf, and scooped up some water.
When she returned she knelt beside me, and after finding my mouth with her free hand, carefully poured the liquid onto my tongue and down my throat.
If the potion she had given me was astounding, the water was more so. Never had I tasted anything so wonderfully full of life. A warmth spread out through my flesh. I felt sleepy, as if I'd just eaten a full meal.
She stood. "I will let you rest now. You are very hurt, I think, and it will take time for the potion to help you." Without another word she turned and left. Her departure was again painfully slow, and I was asleep before she had gotten even halfway up the stairs.
Dim red light flowed into the entrance hall, weak against the overwhelming darkness of the tower. My body felt ragged and stiff, and memories of days spent as a slave of the Therans came to me. It took me a moment to realize I could feel again. I raised my right arm, held it up before me. I could move! With growing excitement I propped myself upland immediately fell back down. Although I could move, my body was exhausted.
Gently I rolled over onto my side, just to feel motion again. I smiled. A child comfortable in bed. Somehow things would be all right. I fell asl
eep again.
When I next opened my eyes, it was still night. Again I tried to get up, slower this time.
Although a buzz still cut through my thoughts, I could sit up. That task done, I rested.
The red glare of the sea shone brilliantly on the water that flowed from the statue's surface. Was that a statue of Mordom in his youth? I did not think so. The man portrayed seemed stronger. More of a soldier.
I stood now, testing my sense of balance. Wobbly, but I believed the worst was over. A terrible thirst raked at my throat, and I started at once for the fountain with the wonderful water. After the first two steps, my knees buckled. This happened again and again. But with successive steps I improved—remembering in a way—how to walk.
When I reached the fountain I sat on the edge of its round well. The red illumination that drifted in through the windows made the well water look more than a little like blood. For a moment I wasn't certain if I truly wanted to drink the stuff. But memories of its taste and my own intense thirst prompted me to dip the cup in and scoop out some water.
When I drank it down, I once again felt refreshed.
Stronger now, I decided to see if I could find Kyrethe, or at least explore a bit more of the tower.
With stealthy steps—old work habits become part of our nature—I made my way up the stairs. There was no need for any lights in the tower, for Kyrethe was blind. Thus, no glowing moss grew from the walls and no sconces with candles waited to be lit. The shadows grew deep as I made my way up the stairs. But even in the growing gloom I could see that the words carved into the wall continued.
The second floor was as sparse as the first. Windows let in the lava's light, mixing the room with shadow and blood. At the other side of the room, opposite the stairs where I stood, were more stairs leading up to the third floor. The inscription continued around the wall and then kept moving up the stairs to the next floor.
At the center of the room was a large bed, with white sheets. Four posts stood at each corner, and white gauze floated around them, forming a delicate, airy canopy. The sea's warm air lifted the gauze, making it float and quiver. The lava's light illumined the sheets and the gauze making the bed look like a device of pain.
On it slept Kyrethe. The red light through the windows was gentle on her flesh, blurring the wrinkles and bruises of her body. Her long white gown flowed down along her limbs, and melted into the sheets. She seemed quite peaceful, as if the gown and sheets had grown up around her, cradling her.
I do not know what, if anything, your mother told you of the time she and I spent together. I do not know now how much I want to tell you. But it is important for you to know that—because of who I am—because of so many things—when I saw Kyrethe in that bed of blood, I was very drawn to her. The mix of pain and flesh had an arousing effect on me. I moved toward the bed, without a specific plan in my head. Just going, because I simply wanted to. Because I wanted to touch someone, and I wanted to feel pain, and because ... I really didn't know why.
I walked up to the bed. Stood beside it. Looked down at her. She was so thin, frail. Her thick gray hair fell about her shoulders, curled up over her neck. I placed my hand, carefully, just the fingertips, against her cheek. Her skin ... How I wanted to ... I ran my fingertips over her lips. She did not stir. It took me a moment to remember she could not feel.
This revelation sent confusing feelings through my flesh. On the one hand, I was drawn more to her. The thought that I could—do things to her without her knowing ... Caress her. Kiss her. Excited me. Gave a sensation of power. A power found not in strength, but in safety. No threat of rejection. I could simply have my ways. As long as I did not jostle her too much, as long as my desire remained the shadowy actions of a thief, I could touch, and she would never know.
But the realization also disturbed me. I felt repulsed by my desires. She could feel neither pleasure nor pain. I could give her nothing. Only receive. And then, if I did it secretly, I could only receive what I was willing to take. Your mother, the things that ... When she made me bleed with bites and nails, I knew that a part of her liked it. She later said ... But at one time ... Kyrethe would offer none of this. I cannot explain. But to know there was no interaction, no exchange of sensation, drove me away from her. I stepped away, my hands trembling.
Wanting intensely to occupy my mind with other thoughts, I made my way up the stairs to the third floor. This was the top floor of the tower. Wooden shelves lined it, all packed with vials containing potions. On each shelf were labels, all carved into the wood.
Written in Theran, the labels identified potions of healing, regeneration, sleep, and a few to induce pleasant emotional states. Few of the vials had been touched. Aside from the water, Kyrethe seemed to need little.
How had she ended up on the island? Why did she bring so much she never used?
The answers, I knew, might be waiting for me in the inscription. Although the words covered the walls around me, I decided to go downstairs, to start from the beginning.
7
I read:
My name is Kyrethe. I do not know where I am. I write this for you; whoever is reading this. I want my story known. Only if stories are known can things change.
I am the daughter of Veras Churran and Quorian Churran. Veras, my father, was a Theran governor in the province of Herrash. Proud. We all lived in the mansion, but it was HIS
mansion. We all ate the food, but it was HIS food. We each longed for our dreams, but we were HIS family.
My father advanced in the Theran ranks. Promotions. He conquered people. Did it well.
At dinner he would laugh about his power. Joked that he was a new Passion, a Passion of conquest. My mother and I did not laugh. My brother Mordom did.
After the Holy Day Massacre, my mother and father began to argue. She wanted him to change his policies. He would not listen. He ruled other people, but it was HIS land. My mother was also Theran, but it was HIS decision how to represent all Therans. Other people died, but it was all a part of HIS life.
My mother did not relent. Asked him to relinquish the post, to permit us all to return to Thera. She wanted him to rest. He refused. She asked again. Again. Again. Again.
He struck her.
She asked, he struck. Again, again, again. On some nights I heard him rape her. Her cries filled the mansion. I rushed to stop him, but his guards prevented me. I screamed, "You know this is wrong." But they were HIS guards.
He killed her.
I did not see the body, but she was gone. My father said she met her fate. He smiled, a joke. He thought HE was fate.
I cried, as did Mordom, for we missed her. My father asked us what was wrong. I told him I saw my mother, and Mordom did the same. My father said, "Stop seeing her.” We could not. We missed her. I did not want to forget her. I wanted to hold her memory as proof of my father's crimes.
My father knew this. He locked me up in a small room. He starved me. He beat me. But he would not kill me. In his strange way, he loved me.
I did not relent. He called us into the council chamber and told us to swear to forget our mother. We said we could not, that we saw her in our thoughts. He then called down a curse upon our eyes. A shadow loomed behind him. He did not know this. He said, "You will not see your mother; you will not see anything. I imprison your sight."
He blinded us.
A week later he called us into the chamber. He asked, "Have you forgotten your mother?"
Mordom said yes. I said, "I hear her voice when I lie down at night. I hear her say, “You are my love. You matter to me because you are you. Everything about you is what I love, the good and the bad, because without both, you would not be what I love.'"
My father said, "You will not hear your mother; you will not hear anything. I imprison your hearing."
A week later he called me into the chamber. He wrote in the palm of my hand, "Have you forgotten your mother?"
I said, "When I lie down at night, I feel her arms around me, giving me
comfort. She asks nothing from me, but gives."
My father said, "You will not feel your mother; you will not feel anything. I imprison your touch."
From that moment on all my contact with the world was removed. People moved me around, fed me. After a long time, many years, I think, I was put on an air ship and the air eventually became very hot. Then they took me off the airship. Put me in a round room.
There is water here, which I can taste, and it is good. There are stairs, which lead to my bed. And more stairs which lead to magical potions.
I spent a few nights sleeping on the floor of the first floor. There is a statue in the middle of the pool, and water pours from it. When I touched the face of the statue, I realized it was my father's face. I will not sleep in the same room with such an image. I will sleep upstairs from now on.