“I’ll see what I can do,” replied Helaine.
“Wonderful. And good luck,” said Jeramy before turning his attention to a stack of folios on his desk.
Helaine hugged her pile to her chest and left the Archives. Nadja’s unreturned books irked her. More abandoned responsibilities. Nadja really had taken no time to set her affairs in order before disappearing. Again, Helaine worried about what caused her roommate to take flight so suddenly, and with so little preparation.
At least the books were one thing she could take care of. That would make one less unresolved issue left waiting for Nadja when she returned.
If she returned.
Chapter 6
Nadja’s books weren’t hard to find. They sat neatly on a shelf in her bookcase, which held nothing else besides her class notebooks and a few pencils.
The bookcase appeared lonely and forlorn in its bare state, especially when compared to her own shelves, which sagged with art, trinkets, books, and mementos.
The charcoal portrait she’d begged her father to sit for stood framed in a place of prominence. She smiled at the hard expression of the man depicted there. Most people would see the picture and assume him a stern and unfriendly man, but she knew better.
A small collection of odd copper nuggets occupied the edge of one shelf. Among them was one shaped like a sheep, one like a boat, and one that, if you squinted just so, looked an awful lot like her Na Na. Each one was a gift from her father, brought home from the mine for the sole purpose of making her smile.
A dried bouquet of lady smock and heath buttercup collected from the field behind her home decorated one corner, and yards of sheer lavender fabric draped over the top and hung down the sides.
The rest of the bookcase was littered with treasures precious to her, whether or not they were of value to anyone else. And any leftover space had been filled to bursting with books and music. Helaine’s bookcase was an outward reflection of herself.
She regarded Nadja’s side of the room. Nothing spoke of who she was. Nothing gave a hint of her family, her passions, her likes and dislikes. No clue of the background or personality of the person to whom the space belonged.
That’s when Helaine realized how little she really knew about her roommate. She knew only what everyone else did, that Nadja was a Grenyan immigrant come to the conservatory to pursue her desire to use music to help others. She knew Nadja’s uncle was her only near relation. Beyond that, what else did she know?
The only notable information she had was that Nadja had cut all ties with her family in Grenyan. That had only slipped out during a late-night study session filled with copious amounts of coffee and too much cake. She hadn’t thought too much about it at the time, but now it seemed strange considering how quickly Nadja had rushed back to her homeland. Of course, Pax said it was a matter of life and death. Was that enough to tempt her back?
She glanced past the window and considered Nadja’s wardrobe. Perhaps something in there could tell her more about the woman she’d lived with these many months.
Helaine bit her lip as she approached the cedar cabinet. As much as she liked to be informed, she’d never stooped to snooping. She reached out for the handle, but stopped when her fingers brushed the smooth wood.
No.
She pulled back. What was she doing?
Maybe she didn’t know much about her roommate’s past, but she knew the kind of woman Nadja was. She was caring and considerate, strong-willed and determined. Private, yes, but also loyal. She was someone a friend could depend on. And she wouldn’t have left like that unless she had a good reason.
Poking around in Nadja’s private things felt like a betrayal.
Still . . .
She shook her head. But an annoying, niggling sensation tugged at the back of her mind, like a gnat buzzing around her ear that she kept shooing away. Something was off.
Helaine chided herself as she walked back to the bookcase. She picked up the books and sat down on Nadja’s bed, opening the smaller one. Her eyes fell, and she watched the words blur past as she slid her thumb across the edges of the pages, flipping them absently.
And so what if Nadja really had cut ties with her family when she left Grenyan? Why was it so hard to believe she would return home in a time of crisis? Of course she would. She was that kind of person.
Engrossed as she was in her own thoughts, a single word leapt from the fanning pages and caught her eye.
Mevocali.
Her hand stilled, and she pressed the book flat. As she skimmed the pages, recognition dawned. She remembered Nadja talking about these books. Grandmaster Kero had assigned them as what she termed “light reading.” No wonder Jeramy asked about them. They were borrowed months ago. She should get them back to the archives as soon as possible.
Unless . . .
Helaine tapped her chin. She’d been looking for a reason to speak with Grandmaster Kero about Nadja for almost three weeks now. These books were just the excuse she needed.
She snapped the small book shut, gathered both of them in her arms, and strode to the door. She’d see to it they made it back to the archives. Eventually.
“Grandmaster Kero?”
The door to the grandmaster’s office stood ajar, and a breeze from the open window rippled Helaine’s golden waves.
“Down here.” Only a moment separated the muffled reply and the grandmaster’s appearance as she popped up from behind her desk. Her tortoiseshell glasses were perched just so on the end of her nose, and her clothes were spotless and wrinkle-free, despite having spent who-knows-how-long on the floor.
“Miss Vastrof. Helaine,” said the grandmaster, coming around the desk to greet her. “What a pleasant surprise. How are you?”
“Well, thank you.”
“You look well.” Grandmaster Kero’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Almost. “No lasting effects from your visit to the infirmary?”
Helaine hesitated a beat, then replied, “No. None at all.” Her stomach turned at the lie, but she did her best to ignore the feeling. Her change in status wasn’t yet common knowledge, and she wasn’t about to tell anyone else before she first spoke with the doctor.
The lines around the grandmaster’s mouth relaxed. “Good, good,” she said, as her white head bobbed up and down. “And you’re enjoying your summer?”
“Very much.”
“I hear you are working with Grandmaster Brightwater. How does that suit you?”
“Well, so far. She’s assigned me to lead the swarms. Or the afterswarms. Though I’m still not sure what the difference is. It seems to me a swarm is a swarm. Either way, I think I’ve found what I need to be able to do it.”
“That’s wonderful. I wish you all the best. Now, what can I help you with?”
Helaine shifted the books in her arms and launched into the speech she’d rehearsed on the way over. “I was looking for something in my room today, and I came across these books. I believe you assigned them to Nadja, and since I don’t know when she’ll be back, I thought I should return them to you.”
“Ah, yes,” said the grandmaster, taking the books from Helaine. “I assigned these to her, but they don’t belong to me. They belong to the Archives.” She turned one to the side. “See the markings on the spine?”
“Oh, of course.” A trace of nervous energy laced Helaine’s giggle. “Silly me.”
“Not to worry,” said the grandmaster. “I was just gathering a few books I need to return, myself, when you came in. I’ll take these as well.”
“Thank you.”
Grandmaster Kero leaned across her desk and added the books to an already tall stack.
Helaine shifted her weight back and forth between her feet, but made no move to leave.
“Was there something else?” asked the grandmaster.
“Well,” said Helaine, taking a step forward. “Now that you mention it . . .”
What now? She’d invented a reason for her visit, but she hadn’t thought beyo
nd that. She was positive the grandmaster knew more than she did about her roommate. But anyone who knew anything was being so closed-lipped about it. How would she get any new information from Grandmaster Kero?
“Yes?” prompted the grandmaster.
There was nothing to do but ask. “I was wondering if you had any news from Nadja.”
“Not lately, no. Why do you ask?”
“Grandmaster Westbrook said you are in contact with her, and I was just hoping that, maybe, you knew when she might be back.”
“No.” Grandmaster Kero offered her an apologetic smile. “As I understand it, she’ll likely be gone for some months at least. Or longer.”
“Will she be back in time for the start of the new academic year?”
“I doubt it.”
Helaine felt the shock of the grandmaster’s words hit her in the chest and sizzle out through her extremities. Pax had said “a while.” But she’d assumed he meant weeks. Maybe a month or two. What could possibly keep Nadja away for as long as the grandmaster suggested?
Her palms once more became damp. “It’s just that, I’ve had no word from her. And she left so suddenly, and without even saying goodbye. And I thought—no, I know—we are better friends than that. So, you see, the whole thing is so puzzling.”
“I’m sure she is just very busy right now.” The grandmaster placed a hand on Helaine’s arm, obviously sensing her distress. “I can tell you she was upset at having to leave in such haste. And we are keeping her spot here at the conservatory open for her until she returns.”
“Yes, but—”
“And,” continued the grandmaster, “I can say with certainty that she is fine and in good health. I spoke with her uncle only yesterday, and he assured me all is well.”
An alarm rang in Helaine’s mind.
Pax had said Nadja would be helping her uncle all summer. In Grenyan. How could he be in two places at once?
Perhaps she’d misunderstood Pax.
She thought fast. “Which uncle?”
Grandmaster Kero cocked her head to the side. “The only one she has.”
No, she’d understood him perfectly.
She remembered the last time she had seen Pax. The way he limped around the room. The way he winced when Petrin patted his back. His trip with Nadja to Chansey had not been a smooth one. Had they been attacked? He had assured her of Nadja’s safety. But at what cost?
At the time, she had been more worried about Nadja than him. But now, thinking back on it, she couldn’t believe she had ignored the evidence of his physical state. Never mind the way he skirted around her questions—much like the grandmaster was doing now.
Helaine squared her shoulders. They were leaving her little choice.
“Thank you so much for letting me know she’s well. It helps relieve my mind.”
“You’re welcome.” The grandmaster patted her arm once more before returning to the back of her desk. “Let me know if I can be of any further help.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Oh, Helaine.”
Helaine paused in her retreat. “Yes?”
“Did you ever find it?”
“Find what?”
“Whatever it was you were looking for.”
“No,” she answered, heading for the door. “But I haven’t given up, yet.”
Chapter 7
Her room door swung open, and Helaine marched straight to Nadja’s wardrobe, pulse pounding. She yanked open the cedar panel before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. The hinges shrieked in surprise.
Stepping back, she surveyed the contents.
Nadja’s clothing barely filled a third of the space. She shifted through garments, ignoring the little voice that scolded her for rifling through her roommate’s belongings. She’d already crossed that line when she opened the wardrobe. There was nothing else to do now but finish what she started.
I wonder why she never wears these anymore. The cotton fabric of the long skirts slid through her fingers as she passed them by.
Blouses, skirts, pants. All of them, what few there were when compared to her own collection, she had seen Nadja wear time and time again. In fact, she was as familiar with her roommate’s clothing as she was with her own. And all with empty pockets. Nothing new. Nothing to tell her more than she already knew.
Something bumped against the back of the wardrobe as she pushed aside the last skirt. Curious, she stuck her hand through the fabrics and felt something propped in the corner.
Helaine’s eyebrows drew together as she removed the wooden pole. A small leather pouch was fastened to its middle. It stood almost as tall as her shoulder and was hollow from end to end. Some kind of instrument, perhaps?
One end had what looked like a mouthpiece. She lifted it to her lips and blew. The only resulting sound was the whisper of moving air. Maybe it needed something like a reed.
It must be in that bag.
She removed the pouch and propped the pipe against the wardrobe. The worn leather flap opened to reveal a collection of cone-topped darts.
Definitely not reeds.
Helaine removed one of them and slipped it into the mouthpiece. It fit perfectly. She blew through the pipe again, gently this time, and the dart glided through the pipe and out the other end.
Definitely not an instrument.
Helaine rubbed her temples. As best as she could guess, this was some sort of weapon. But why would Nadja have it? And why did she keep it hidden?
She put the dart back in the pouch and secured it to the pipe before returning the whole thing to the back of the wardrobe. A waft of cedar-scented air puffed in her face as she shut the panel.
The pipe, that was at least something new. The clothes, well . . .
The clothes!
She opened the panel and stared inside, doing a quick inventory. The burgundy, long-sleeved tunic. The gray, short-sleeved top with the embroidery around the hem. The black linen pants. The gray woolen ones. Other than what Nadja had been wearing the last time she’d seen her, those were the only pieces missing.
Helaine closed the panel once more and backed away from the wardrobe. When the backs of her legs bumped against Nadja’s bed, she dropped onto the comforter, her mind churning.
Why had Nadja packed so little? Everyone agreed she’d left in a hurry, but to travel all the way to Grenyan with only two changes of clothes? The extra minute or two it would have taken her to toss a few more shirts and pants into her bag would have made no difference. It was as if she had only planned to be gone a few days.
Despite the early summer breeze wafting in through the window, a chill settled into Helaine’s bones. Maybe Nadja had planned to be gone for only a short time. What had happened, then, to extend her trip indefinitely?
Her fingernails drummed absently on top of the nightstand. The thought of Pax’s injuries when he’d returned from Chansey sent a shudder across her shoulders. He and Nadja had met with trouble. She was sure of it.
Her gaze wandered over to her fidgety hand, and she flattened it against the wood. The nightstand’s single drawer caught her eye. She reached over with her other hand to pull it open, knowing full well it would be as empty as the bookcase. When she leaned over to peer inside, a pair of dark, haunted eyes stared up at her.
Helaine screamed and jumped back, banging her knee into the corner of the drawer.
“Ow!”
Gathering her wits, she righted herself and rubbed the aching joint, relieved that no one witnessed her display.
The drawer was empty save for the silver hand mirror she had often seen Nadja use. Had it been lying face down, it wouldn’t have been such a surprising discovery.
She retrieved the mirror and held it in front of her. Worry lines marred the edges of her eyes, and her face was flushed from agitation. No wonder she had scared herself.
The texture against her palm drew her attention, and she held it closer to her face. A simple, yet elegant floral pattern was engraved up and down the s
ides of the handle, repeating itself around the edge of the glass. She flipped the mirror over to see if the pattern continued around the back. It did. But on this side another engraving followed along underneath the flowers.
“Wherever I do stop and stay, my heart belongs to Annuay.”
Helaine’s nose crinkled.
Annuay.
Why did that name sound so familiar?
She recalled all the students she knew by name.
But, wait. That was silly. Nadja had brought this mirror with her to the conservatory. Annuay couldn’t be someone she had met while she was here.
Annuay, Annuay.
She chewed on her bottom lip and shook her head. No, it was definitely something connected with the conservatory. And it was there, just at the edges of her memory, if she could only grab on to it.
Annuay . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Another breeze blew into the room, carrying with it the perfume of roses from the garden below. Helaine inhaled, and the smell sent her mind into a whirl.
That’s it! The Gardens of Annuay.
Grandmaster Westbrook had mentioned it during his Harmony in Permaculture speech the first day of classes. It had been the site of the Battle at Annuay, which had destroyed the last of the Mevocali and left the gardens in ruin. But that was over two hundred years ago. And no one had lived there since. Besides that, the gardens, when they existed, had been along Amrantir’s eastern border. Grenyan was about as far away from Annuay as one could get. Why would Nadja’s mirror speak of it with such longing?
She read the engraving again.
“Wherever I do stop and stay . . .”
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
The former inhabitants of the gardens, the Dunnans—forced to leave their home when war ravaged it—were fated to roam Amrantir’s eastern regions to this day.
Perception Page 5