Like Mist Over the Eyes

by Thea van Diepen

  The shortest of the soldiers addressed Nadin. “You’ll be happy to know that your cell no longer has an unsanitary wooden hand in it.” The others chuckled.

  “It would have been unsanitary if it had been real,” Nadin muttered, cheeks red.

  “Wait.” Adren went right up to the captain. Denyeh stepped aside, giving the captain a surreptitious smirk. Even though Adren stood almost a head shorter than him, she more than made up for it with her demeanor. “On what grounds are you arresting him?”

  “On the grounds that he’s a Breimic spy.”

  “A… spy. Have you met him? He’s…” Rather than come up with a descriptor, she indicated Nadin with one hand. The soldiers around the captain laughed as Nadin slumped. “Besides, what information could he possibly have found? You threw him into prison the moment he got here, and I haven’t seen any of you doing anything particularly interesting except arrest him and dodge fairies the whole time we’ve been here.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” the captain asked.

  “The White Changeling. If anyone should be going to prison here, it’s me. But I’m not, and he’s not either.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you have silly little swords and we have the Saint’s Gauntlet.”

  At this, Nadin stood up. “We do?”

  “We heard that once before; we’re not falling for it again,” said the captain.

  Adren rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t believe me. Arrest Nadin and be done with it. But don’t blame me when every single fairy in the mound comes to tear the prison down for it.”

  “Adren, are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” Nadin’s voice strained against his higher register and cracked a few times through his question.

  “I’m talking about the unsanitary wooden hand in your coat pocket. Am I right, Loram?”

  Adren prayed that, even if she was wrong, Loram would say yes anyways. When she nodded, Adren wanted to cheer.

  “Show it to me,” the captain said to Nadin, who obeyed. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  Loram beat Adren to responding.

  “Punch him and find out.”

  What?

  “What?” Nadin sounded like he was being strangled.

  The captain thought about this a moment and nodded. He punched Nadin in the chest. Nadin fell back, exclaiming loudly.

  “That should have cracked a rib,” commented the captain. “Too bad it doesn’t protect against pain.”

  Well, then. Adren hadn’t expected that.

  “Someone owes me something nice after this,” Nadin muttered.

  “So you have the Saint’s Gauntlet. What do you want?” asked the captain.

  “I want you and as many soldiers—as many people, period—as you can find to work with Denyeh, setting up as many barriers around the town as you can before the fairies come up with a plan and move in to get the hand.”

  “And then what? Sit and twiddle our thumbs for who knows how long while the fairies cut off travel and we die of starvation?”

  “You’ll sit and twiddle your thumbs, yes. Meanwhile Loram”—she indicated the fairy—“will go to the fairies and tell them I’m going to make a deal with them, which will keep them from attacking. You should let her through now.”

  “If we don’t?”

  “Loram?”

  The fairy grinned and cast an illusion for the soldiers. They parted, staring at things that didn’t exist, and Denyeh opened up enough of the barrier long enough for Loram to duck through and hurry down the street. The soldiers blinked and focused on what was again.

  “And now, Captain, you’ll help Denyeh with the barriers while Nadin and I head off on our errand.”

  The captain gave a dry laugh. “What, I have no choice in the matter?”

  “Not if you want to protect the people here. Or did I mistake your occupation for something else?”

  “Fine. We’ll help her.”

  Adren nodded at Denyeh, who picked up a bag and headed out with the soldiers.

  “Are you going to tell me things again?” asked Nadin, hand back in his pocket, as he rubbed his chest. “Because I know I’m missing something here.”

  “No, I’m not. We have to find the unicorn first, and you’re coming with me.”

  “Just when I got my hopes up.” But he grinned when he said it.

  Adren reached into her pocket. Before Nadin had returned, she, Loram, and Denyeh had worked out how to help him if the fairies went after him and the unicorn. Denyeh had grabbed three spoons from her kitchen and, with Loram’s help, enchanted them so they could put up a barrier large enough for everyone, including Nadin and the unicorn, to fit. Since this enchantment differed from the fairy barriers, Denyeh instructed both Loram and Adren in the use of it. Loram and Denyeh each carried one with them now, and Adren had hers in her pocket. She activated it the moment she and Nadin left the house.

  As they went, Adren shoved a piece of paper at Nadin with a note written on it in crisp handwriting. He opened his mouth.

  “It’s a list of what we need to get,” said Adren. “It’ll make sense when you read it.”

  Although hesitant, Nadin smoothed out the paper and read the note.

  Before you ask, Denyeh wrote this for me, so I hope to all the saints she got it right. Remember the fairies watching the house? Loram says there’s only two left after you ran off after the unicorn. If all went well, one is following her and the other is following Denyeh, but we need to be sure. Look behind us, point somewhere (I don’t care where) and say, “Shouldn’t we go back that way first?” while you check to see if there’s a fairy anywhere nearby.

  No matter what I say, if you see a fairy, respond with, “I guess I misread that.” If there isn’t a fairy, say, “This is more complicated than I thought.” Act normal.

  Nadin followed the instructions to the letter. Stopping all forward motion entirely, he turned back and held his arm fully-extended to point.

  “Shouldn’t we go to the shop back that way first?” he quavered.

  “No,” Adren replied, eyebrow raised. “We go there last.”

  With words so stilted they could have joined a parade on Saints Day, Nadin said “This is more complicated than I thought.”

  Adren gave a funny sort of cough and resumed walking.

  “I was right,” she said. “You would make a terrible spy.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Nadin as he caught up.

  “You were even more awkward than usual. If there had been a fairy watching us, they would have known we knew.” Nadin’s face fell, at which Adren snorted. The snort was a bit strained, considering that her sides were still shaking. She cleared her throat. “We would have jumped it if need be. We have options.”

  “Wait.” He pulled out the paper again. “How did you know this was going to happen?”

  “I didn’t. We’d made that for when we thought we’d have to get you and the unicorn. Now, tell me everything you’ve seen and heard since we got here, except what you already told me about Loram. I want to be sure I haven’t missed anything important.”

  The story went on even after they’d left town and entered the forest. Adren listened, intent on every word as she led them south to the clearing where she’d left her things. No camp. No sign anyone had come through. Adren rummaged through some bushes until she pulled out her pack. After a quick search, she put it back, hiding it once more. Nadin stared, but didn’t comment. He had just gotten to the part when he and the unicorn had arrived at the barrier.

  “Wait.” Adren held up a hand. “Say that again.”

  “There was a barrier?”

  “No. The unicorn had gone to it. Directly to it. Like it was trying to get to something on the other side.”

  Nadin’s eyes went wide. “Do you think…?”

  “I need to see what’s on the other side of that barrier.”

  “Need?” This was accompanied by a gulp.

&nb
sp; “Can you take me there?”

  “I might be able to…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Aren’t we going to find the unicorn?”

  “Yes. On the way.” Adren raised an eyebrow.

  “What if I can’t remember the way?”

  She sighed. “Get close to it and look for the magic.”

  “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to see it.”

  “Nonsense. It’s big.” She glanced at the bush which hid her pack and adjusted a bit of it with her foot. “Even if you have a hard time seeing part of it, you’ll be able to see enough of it to figure out where it is.”

  “Adren, you don’t understand. I really don’t know—”

  “Remember what you told me about everything you’ve been doing here?” Bush now behaving properly, Adren fixed her gaze back on Nadin. He looked in every direction but hers.

  “Yeah…”

  “Why is it that it hasn’t been a problem for you to see magic here until right now?”

  “I guess… all those other times… I just had to. I never really noticed I wasn’t having problems. I just saw it.”

  “And now?”

  Nadin shrugged.

  “Well, whatever it is, get over it. It’s obvious to me that your ability doesn’t come and go like you thought.”

  “Get over it?” he scoffed. “Like you got over that memory with the man and the sword?”

  “Excuse me?” Adren stepped back like she’d been punched. At first, Nadin made as if to placate her, but then he steeled himself and stood tall.

  “You don’t just ‘get over’ things, Adren. Not like you seem to think. I mean, look at me. You act like I can do all these things, sure, but then your explanation for why I couldn’t be a spy was to just point at me. Is that all I am? A portable magic spyglass that can do or break spells from time to time, but otherwise I’m worthless?”

  “I never said you were worthless.” The way she looked at him, body half turned, was the way a cat regarded an animal showing bizarre behaviour as it decided whether that animal was dangerous.

  “You traded me away to the fairies.”

  A hawk’s cry pierced the stillness between them, cutting it in two. After a bit, the chattering of squirrels broke it again and the trees above rustled as one chased the other out of its territory. Robins warbled as if commenting on the event.

  “I trusted you, Adren,” Nadin said. “All that time in the prison, I waited for you, worried about you. And you traded me away like I was nothing.”

  “I thought you might be human.”

  “That’s not right, Adren! I could deal with all the other things—the snide comments, the put-downs, every time you talked over me. But that? How am I supposed to deal with that?” His face reddened as the intensity in his words rose.

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Look at me!”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I am looking at you.”

  “No, not just like that.” Nadin made as if to tear his hair out. “Look at me. See me. Look at how I’ve treated you since we first met and tell me that I’ve earned at least a little of your respect.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Depending how you considered it, Nadin had either picked the worst or best time to argue about this. The worst, if you took into account the fact that they had angry fairies waiting on them. The best, if you also took into account that he and Adren were going to walk into the mound with those fairies together.

  For all the ways she put Nadin down, Adren had to admit that she was glad she’d agreed to let him travel with her. If he wanted to find out what kind of person he was about to go into danger with, she wanted to know, too.

  “Why do you stay with me?”

  “What?”

  “I can understand why you stuck with me in Watorej—it was exciting, you were helping people, and you barely knew me. But we’ve been in close quarters for three weeks, and you’re right. Yesterday, I traded you off. You could have left me after that. Instead, you got me out, went back to find a way to break the spell on me, bargained with Loram, and got me out of Iraem’s illusion. And you’re still here. Why?”

  “Why did you bring the unicorn in to try to heal my mother?”

  Adren squirmed. That had been a test to see if Nadin had been telling the truth about his mother’s illness. She hadn’t told him that part.

  “You’re always so careful with the unicorn. We stay off roads for it, we keep it out of cities, we hide it from others. When it’s scared, you calm it down. When it’s hurt, you treat it. So I’ve been thinking… why would you risk bringing it into town, into my house where it couldn’t run away if it needed to? Why would you bring the thing you cared about the most into danger to help someone who could have been a human in the way you’re most scared of?”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way before. Why had she brought the unicorn with her? All she’d needed was herself to confirm what he’d said. Bringing the unicorn back to the forest had almost been a disaster, too. If it hadn’t run when it did…

  “It was the right thing to do,” she finally said, staring at her feet as the meaning of it sank in. She shouldn’t have done it; it had been stupid. Just like Nadin shouldn’t have rescued her from the mound. He’d said as much afterwards. “Loram told me to stop looking for the cure for the unicorn.” She said it slowly, haltingly.

  “What? When?” He sounded angry.

  “She said its magic is broken in such a way that she’s afraid what it might become if someone fixed it. Is that what you see, too?”

  “I don’t know what a unicorn’s magic is supposed to look like, so I never really paid attention. But…” His voice trembled. “Now I really want to pay attention, just to prove that fairy wrong. Come on, let’s find that barrier.” He started out. Paused. Turned back. “Thank you for telling me that. You didn’t have to, you know.”

  Adren shrugged. Reconsidered her plan of leaving her pack behind and pulled it out. “Let’s go.” She didn’t know how else to respond. After what Loram had said, she’d tried not to think about it, but she’d had this… this feeling. That he’d seen the same thing Loram and Iraem did, and that he’d thought the same. That he’d been laughing behind her back this whole time.

  A cool breeze shook the trees as they walked, and a rain of needles fell. In the winter, the bushes and small deciduous trees would lose their leaves, but the pine and cedar would remain green. Even still, though they didn’t renew with the seasons, conifers did not remain stagnant. Evergreen, some called them, as if they never changed. They did, but it was a regular discipline. Aspens lost their leaves once in the fall so they could hold tight to them all through the summer. Pine accepted loss as a way of life, and so winter could never make it bare.

  Nadin had mentioned snide comments, said she put him down. Talked over him. She couldn’t have been doing that with him. Could she? She thought back through all her encounters with him, right from the first time they’d seen each other.

  There it all was. Not every time they spoke. Not in everything she said. But, in her mind, there was so often this idea that she needed to make him better. That he wasn’t good enough as he was and that he would never be able to change that, so she had to do it.

  Well, he wasn’t good enough as he was.

  What was good enough? By what standard did she judge him?

  By the same standard she judged everyone else: herself. As if she was perfect.

  No, she knew she wasn’t perfect. She knew she didn’t reach the standard, either. So what? What was good enough? Was anyone good enough?

  Magical creatures had always filled that place, but here she faced fairies who had done wrong. They could be the only ones. Denyeh could have misunderstood what they’d done. Perhaps, knowing what they knew, Aden would find that the fairies had misjudged the actions of Denyeh and the other humans and had acted accordingly.

  Still. Nadin, who was mostly if not all human, had never done her wrong. He had his weaknesses,
but he had never done anything like on the scale the fairies had.

  Even with all his weaknesses, Nadin wasn’t the unicorn. The unicorn needed Adren for a cure to the problem it didn’t know it had. Nadin, on the other hand, had awareness. He had choice. ‘The most powerful magic we have,’ Denyeh had said.

  Why did that saintsall woman have to be so right?

  They found the unicorn first, as Adren had thought they would. She considered it for a moment, while Nadin tried to see if he could figure out what it was about the creature that scared Loram so much. Based on all the head-scratching, he didn’t seem to be finding anything. Adren had better luck. With what Iraem had chosen to terrify Adren with after the dragon and what Nadin had told her he’d seen on the walls of the fairy throne room, Adren had a thought of a way to give the monarchs cause to respect or fear her.

  “Nadin, give me the hand.”

  He did. “Why?” She put it in the pocket with the enchanted spoon.

  “And take my pack.”

  Again, he did. “Still waiting on the why.”

  “When we go to see the monarchs, I’m going to be the one in charge. People in charge don’t carry their own things.”

  “Could we have a plan sometime where I’m the one in charge?”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  As she and the unicorn followed him to the barrier, Adren couldn’t help but notice how the unicorn’s horn seemed to glow in the forest’s dappled shade. Like a raised sword.

  A sword.

  There was something she’d forgotten to tell Nadin.

  “I remember everything from the last time the memory attacked me.”

  “You mean…”

  Adren nodded.

  “Wow! That’s amazing!” He peered at Adren. “That’s amazing, right?”

  “I don’t know what the man’s face looks like, or where any of that happened. It was when I was young, but I don’t know how young. So it’s not particularly helpful. But I remember a fire, that the man swung his sword at me, and that the unicorn and I ran.” The undergrowth thickened, providing Adren an opportunity to focus on it and not Nadin.