Yan waited for her to explain. Though her words may have been clear for a magician, they were just as obscure to Yan as the Rominian alphabet.
“You will understand once you’ve succeeded,” she continued. “For now, don’t clutter your mind with the mechanics.”
The young man agreed, still unsure of himself. The subject had been closed much too soon for his liking. He still had other questions.
“The coin. I’ve looked at it so much that I have the feeling that I’m seeing it everywhere. I try to focus on it, but part of my mind is busy processing its physical characteristics.”
“Then try focusing on those characteristics. Since all you’re trying to do is make the coin fall, you can apply your Will to any place on the coin’s surface. It won’t make any difference.”
Yan pondered the idea for a few moments. Corenn was aware that she was introducing many new concepts to the young man, and from a discipline he didn’t even know existed until the day before. In doing so, she was changing the rules of her instruction.
In the past, she had always refrained from explaining the principles of Will before the novice had succeeded in passing the test. Her opinion had evolved with time: The principles could only help those who were already capable of succeeding. For others, they simply represented another false trail.
Yan had more questions.
“Do… it’s sort of strange to ask, but… do you need to make gestures, or anything like that? Do you need to say something?”
“It isn’t strictly necessary. But it helped one of my students in the past, so if you feel like you need to, don’t stop yourself. It’s just hard to shake the habit once you’ve learned it. That’s for you to find out.”
Corenn didn’t like giving vague answers like that, but she couldn’t be more specific. It all depended on how Yan was going to face the test. The dékades to come would be crucial.
Their conversation carried on in this way, Corenn patiently and benevolently answering the young man’s questions. Yan drank her words in, trusting her completely. Corenn saw his faith in her, which made it that much harder for her to lie to him…
Yan would never pass the test. At least not in the way he imagined.
The important thing wasn’t to make the coin fall… but to try as long as possible.
If, after a few dékades, Yan was still just as motivated, Corenn would teach him how to use his Will. If he gave up, she would assume he didn’t have the power. He could only blame any failure on himself.
The magician had lied to him. Everyone had the ability. Everyone was a potential magician. But only patient and determined individuals could understand, develop, and master the ability. The test was merely a battle against one’s own nonchalance.
Even so, it wasn’t that simple. Everyone knew how to draw, shape clay, or hum, but only a few would become great painters, sculptors, or musicians. The same went for Will. Everyone had the power, several individuals had the necessary patience to learn it, but only a few elite were truly artists.
The reason Corenn offered to teach Yan was because he had already proved his art by saving Léti from a fatal fall.
With all her heart, she hoped he would have the patience.
They stopped their conversation at the first sound of footsteps on the staircase. It was odd for Léti’s fighting lesson to be over already. No one said a word. Something must have happened.
Corenn rushed toward them, faster than she would have wanted to let her friends see. Her gaze immediately fell to the reddened cloth that her niece was pressing to her right hand. And then she did what no one there had seen her do yet. She grew furious. “There you have it! This was bound to happen! I hope you’re happy!”
She put almost all the blame on Grigán. The touchy warrior fled her stare without responding. He understood her reaction, but it was the first time they had fought. He, who did his best to be indifferent, had been wounded to his very core.
“It’s fine. No big deal,” Léti said, nonchalantly.
Corenn’s anger fell away as soon as she spoke. She had reacted as if Léti were nothing more than a child, unjustly wounded, a little girl she needed to protect and comfort. Her niece’s controlled, mature attitude briefly set her off balance.
“At least, I hope it taught you a lesson,” she commented, anxiously waiting for their response.
Neither Léti nor Grigán spoke. Rey timidly came to the rescue.
“You know, Corenn, it was just an accident. If Léti can learn how to defend herself, that should sooner reassure you…”
“An accident! And if the next time she loses an eye, what will we call that? A misfortune?”
Léti could no longer hide her irritation.
“And if the Züu stick a dagger in my stomach without me having the ability to defend myself? A regrettable tragedy?”
Corenn gaped at Léti. That was a low blow.
“I’ve had enough of depending on others,” Léti continued, a little calmer. “I want to have a chance at survival, even when there’s no one there to protect me. If we’re attacked again, I want to be able to help Grigán, Rey, and all the others who fight for me. I’ll learn by experience if I have to.”
Corenn searched the warrior’s eyes to read his opinion. She didn’t know what to do anymore.
“She gave me the same lecture outside,” he mumbled.
The Mother paced about to give herself some time to think. At the Council of the Matriarchy, she made decisions that affected entire communities, but she couldn’t even reason with her own niece. The irony!
“All right. So you’ve already decided that you will fight, no matter what; no matter what we think?”
“Yes.”
“Evidently. I suppose in that case, the best course of action would be for Grigán to give you some advice. That is, if he agrees, naturally.”
“With pleasure,” the warrior announced, happy to get himself out of trouble so easily.
“Nevertheless, I would like you to do something for me, Léti. Don’t mix yourself up in any real combat until Grigán judges you’re ready.”
The young woman pretended to think about it, but accepted the condition to make her aunt happy and end this difficult conversation. For once, she had won the match and would leave the discussion a victor.
She didn’t see the knowing smile exchanged between Grigán and Corenn.
One of Raji’s suppliers paid him a visit just before nightfall, leading three packhorses loaded with fabric from Phar. Raji hurriedly stashed away this potential fortune maker in the secrecy of his warehouse, hoping with all his heart that his guests would be discreet.
He hadn’t accounted for Grigán’s almost morbid mistrust of anyone new. The warrior walked up and stood in front of the new arrival, his most fierce look fixed squarely on his face. The warning was clear. The merchant from the Baronies didn’t comment and hastened to leave the small farmhouse. Whatever these hideaways had done, he didn’t want to know. He was certain, though, that he didn’t want them to cause him any trouble.
“It’s already rude enough of you to force me to house you, but to kill my business too…” Raji said, not speaking to anyone but himself. Grigán didn’t raise any objections to the remark. This whiny, corrupt smuggler had no sympathy from him. When he thought about it, an image of Rey flashing in his mind, all Loreliens were more or less unlikable people.
He locked the trapdoor that separated them from the stable as the heirs settled in for their second night in the warehouse. After the third, they would go meet the Züu.
They ate their dinner outside, sitting in Raji’s courtyard, despite his protests and stern refusal to join them. When they finished, they returned to the shelter provided by the secret cellar.
Despite their fatigue, and their recent sleepless night, they all agreed it was much too early to go to sleep. Bowbaq was especially restless as he had spent his whole day doing just that. In the cellar he announced to the heirs that he had perfectly recovered, even thou
gh he periodically winced in pain while he spoke.
They all wanted to converse. Each one of them had some story to tell or wanted to get the opinion of the others. There was much to discuss: the coming encounter with the Züu, their uncertain future, the identity of their enemy. But above all else, the mystery of the island loomed large in their minds.
For the first time since they had seen the other world, they were all gathered together under the right circumstances to share their impressions. No need to flee, no one trying to spy on them. The place was quiet, and their minds attentive.
Without any discussion, they gathered around Corenn. Grigán, the last to arrive, finished the circle.
Rey joked, “I guess no one was hoping to play a game of lucky stars? It’s a shame, really, the number of players is ideal.”
“I don’t really like dice games,” the warrior responded.
“You shouldn’t say so, even if it’s true,” Bowbaq interrupted. “It’s bad luck to insult destiny’s fingers.”
“What does it matter, really, given the situation we’re in…”
An uncomfortable silence followed Rey’s pessimistic reply. Léti took advantage of it and brought up a subject that was on her mind. “Bowbaq knows of a legend that could be about the other world.”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the giant, which only made him sheepish. He tried to explain, mumbling, “I don’t remember it so well anymore; I had just reached my tenth year. A Maz had been living with our clan. He knew many stories, and this one was only one among many. But last night, it came back to me, and the resemblance to what we saw is striking.”
“Do you remember enough to tell us the story?” Corenn asked.
“Uh, well… it was about an old warrior lost in the mountains of the Curtain. He had been wandering there for several dékades until he stumbled onto a valley that was completely surrounded by massive mountains. But this country was rich in sugary fruits, and abundant in game and clean water. The first hospitable land he had come across in a long time. He decided to stay there.
“People were already living there, all of them very young. They welcomed him with open arms. The warrior lived with them for several dékades, happy to find rest in this peaceful place.
“But it was only a façade. These new friends of his were not humans. They were nothing more than demons!”
“I bet they were,” Rey cut him off. “Demons. I should have thought of it first. With big red horns and forked feet. Obvious, really.”
“Let him finish his story,” Corenn asked nicely. “We will talk about it after.”
“It’s almost over. The demons made the warrior talk, tell stories, tell more stories, and they eventually took all his memories. Every name that he recited gave them more influence over the world. The demons could not leave the valley, but everything they learned about the outside world, they could use to do evil.”
“How did the warrior manage to leave?” Yan asked.
“He never did. When he finally understood the situation, he bought his freedom by promising the demons that he would send them other people who had many more memories for them to take. But he didn’t keep his promise, and the demons weighed him down with pain and suffering until he died. He didn’t know that they could torture him more easily than any human.”
“An odd story to tell kids,” Rey commented. “He was a Maz of what cult? Of the Valipondes?”
“A Maz of Yoos. A kind god. But this story was not part of the cult’s; he only told it because all children like to feel fear.”
“I hope that you aren’t using this idea as a parent, when it’s clearly incongruous with your other morals. Imagine our Bowbaq bursting into the bedroom of… Iulane and Prad, right? Disguised as a terrible bear, just to ‘please the children with fear.’ Guaranteed to work,” Rey finished.
This joke finally made everyone laugh, particularly Léti. Yet again, she could feel herself falling for the actor’s good humor and charm.
“It’s the first time I have ever heard this legend,” Corenn declared, when they had all finally calmed down. “It’s not a very inviting story, compared to the others the heirs have collected over the years. But there are some similarities.”
“Like?”
“The Curtain. Several of our stories mention a marvelous valley, situated somewhere in its highest summits.”
“Valleys are necessarily surrounded by mountains,” Rey objected. “And it’s easy for poets to situate these legendary places in the Curtain. The majority of its heights are inaccessible. Not to mention very few people have explored its eastern side. No one could fact-check these stories!”
Yan remembered a small detail during this exchange and then convinced himself of its certitude: the location of the valley—if it were indeed of this world.
“Behind the portal, it was dawn,” he announced.
Corenn gave him an encouraging smile. Grigán had a satisfied grin. The others stared at him with eager eyes.
“The morning sun was shining on the mountains,” he repeated. “While on Ji, it was still nighttime. The sun was rising on the mountains from the east! The valley must be somewhere in the Curtain!”
The remark had its desired effect. They all, except for Corenn and Grigán, who had known this fact for a long time, stared at each other, stunned.
“Somewhere in the Curtain,” Rey said. “That’s still a pretty large chunk of land to explore, about three times as big as the Matriarchy. And not so easy to get to.”
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s useless to hope to find the valley at random. No heir has even tried, for that matter. Especially because it could just be a false trail, if the valley exists in another world.”
“So we haven’t really gotten anywhere, have we?”
“But Aunt Corenn… what do you think of Bowbaq’s story? Is it possible that behind the portal is a land of demons?”
Corenn looked for a reassuring response that wouldn’t be a lie. In vain, she resigned herself. “Anything is possible, Léti. Anything.”
The Mother feared that in looking for the truth about Ji, they would run into a danger that was much worse than the threat of the Züu. But she kept this reflection to herself.
Yan went to bed with the image of a coin in his eyes and stories blending in his head. One and then the other kept him from dozing off. Corenn and Grigán had told them a few of the legends describing gateways similar to the one on Ji. They all spoke of magnificent landscapes, or villages where only children lived. The majority of them smacked of pure invention, more poetic story than religious account or traveler’s tale. However, a few of them deserved attention. Yan mentally revisited them, trying to pierce through to their secret.
The Great Sohonne Arch—a structure in Arkary similar to the Ji gateway—would someday provide passage for an army of perfect warriors, who would save the children of the White Country from some obscure threat. Even Bowbaq, a native of Arkary, didn’t know this legend.
Another legend, undoubtedly of religious origin, confirmed the existence of a marvelous land where the wise ones’ spirits would reincarnate as children. It was the most optimistic one, but not the strangest.
Rey remembered a legend that said the most deserving followers of a cult would be reborn near their Goddess in order to help her with her Great Work. As he was asked for more details, Rey named the paradise and the Goddess: Lus’an and Zuïa. No one appreciated the joke. Especially since the mysterious valley might have truly been the red killers’ Lus’an.
Another legend mentioned gateways capable of conquering time. Anyone who went through them would gain immortality, but would call the gods’ wrath upon him and would suffer their curse for eternity.
Yet another spoke of a magnificent kingdom whose entryway was guarded by children. Only those who triumphed over these strange guardians could enter. The legend didn’t explain how they were dangerous…
There were others, and others still…
Their commonalities—children, ga
teways, a valley, gods, misfortune—were troubling. But of the multitudinous tales passed along in each country, there were inevitably some that dealt with all of these subjects.
The first narrators of these stories might have known some part of the truth. They might have imagined the rest. How was it possible to tease one from the other? Which parts were true? Which fake? And what if the truth were altogether different?
What was on the other side of the gateway? Yan wondered.
The morning came, and Yan felt like he hadn’t really rested at all. His thoughts followed him into his deepest dreams. Memories of the gateway mixed with stories of the land of demons, and visions of demonic children spinning coins in the air.
He was disappointed that Léti wasn’t near him. The night before, the young woman had fallen asleep at his side, and he was hoping she would still be there upon waking. Even the smallest signs of affection from Léti were precious to him. They had fought side by side. He had let the day of the Promise pass. Rey was unconsciously turning out to be a fierce rival, but Yan wasn’t going to let her go.
Everyone was already awake. The cellar was empty, except for him. He quickly dressed, wondering what deciday it was, and then hurried to join his companions outside.
A late morning sun shone on the heirs, who were gathered in front of the stable for Léti’s second lesson. They all had the bright look of people who had been awake for some time.
The atmosphere was much more relaxed than on the day before. Even though she didn’t approve, Corenn appeared to be enjoying the show. They waved to the newest arrival, and the lesson continued. Léti and Grigán were facing each other: the young woman armed with just a branch; Grigán only with his bare hands. The warrior was trying to touch Léti while avoiding the improvised sword, as Bowbaq, Corenn, and Rey cheered or booed.
“Did I miss much?” Yan asked, rubbing his eyes.
“They just got started,” Corenn answered, smiling. “They argued for a long time to decide whether Léti would use a real blade. As you can see, Grigán had the last word, but the discussion was heated.”
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