by Nhys Glover
Zem encouraged Landor to talk about his books, largely to keep him thinking about what he was comfortable with. It was a good strategy he’d acquired suns ago to keep new situations from overwhelming him. Focus on what you know, even if it’s only the steps you take from one place to another. Mental discipline was one of Zem’s many strengths. It was one of my many weaknesses. Which is odd, given my magic was mental.
In the past, Zem had tried to teach me mental control, especially over the barrage of thoughts I was subjected to at different times. I’d become good at focusing on one or two minds in a room full of people. But actually tuning people’s thoughts out completely was hard, and I wasn’t good at it. Yet with Landor I wished I was. It hurt to be in his mind. It hurt too much.
Once the meal was over, and we’d stacked the dishes in the sink, Zem glanced out the glass topped back door where Landor’s eyes had kept drifting throughout the meal. Beyond the door there were probably outbuildings and maybe a herb garden. There would be no covering like the portico at the front.
“The front I think,” I offered.
Zem nodded. “Aye. That was my thought too. A person’s first sight of the natural world should be as pleasing as possible.”
“It’s shaded there, too,” I pointed out.
Landor looked from one to the other of us without making comment. I knew he was waiting for us to decide. Would he ever become capable of making his own decisions? No, that was wrong. He did make up his own mind about all manner of things within the narrow confines of his world, even going so far as to be willing to test the truth of his mistress’ dictates now, on what would burn him.
Again Zem led the way to the front of the mansion. After a quick check with Landor, he then opened the door. Though he’d braced himself, the tall, pale man still fell back under the onslaught of sunlight that flooded the entryway. His arm went up reflexively to shield his eyes.
Tentatively, Landor stepped forward, testing each footfall as if expecting the ground to give way under his feet. Slowly, the long thin arm came down, and he looked out at the world without a shield. He kept blinking, but that didn’t stop him looking his fill.
Gods! The wonder of it! It was more beautiful than he’d ever expected. The colours! He’d thought my hair was colourful, but now he saw that it was just one of many brilliant and beautiful colours he could barely identify.
“Tell me the colours please. Your hair, Flea. It’s red, yes? I have read of people with red hair before. And the grass is green, yes? But what is this bush?”
He was talking about the overgrown hedge.
“That’s another kind of green. There are many shades of all colours. See? Even that weed over there is a different green again. Lighter, which usually means it’s a new shoot.”
“And the sky is blue? What about that... box on wheels over there. Is that blue too?”
He was referring to the hack that was parked in the shade of a heavily leafed tree. The driver lounged against the trunk of the tree eating his midday meal. When he glanced our way I saw him startle and begin to rise. He’d visibly paled, probably at the sight of Landor.
I motioned him to sit down again, as I answered Landor’s question. “Yes, the vehicle that those beastlings pull is painted a dark blue. The man over there is wearing a tunic of a different blue again. See that flower in the grass there? That’s a wildflower and its yellow. The one over there at the edge of the drive is a weed and the flowers are purple.”
“Purple is a mix of blue and red, yes?” he asked with interest. “One of my books talked about colours and how they mixed to make other colours. But there were no pictures to illustrate the information. It assumed readers would know.”
“Aye, that is how you make purple,” Zem filled in when I looked blank. I didn’t know anything about colours beyond being able to name them.
“Where are the other dwellings?” Landor asked, turning to look around the half circle of land that surrounded us. The drive led to the gate, which was just visible in the distance, as was the high wall that surrounded the property. No other buildings were in sight.
“This is a rich man’s estate. Or rich woman’s—as it belonged to your mistress. Country dwellings like this are spread out because the land around them is used for growing crops or grazing animals,” Zem explained.
“I understand. But this land does not appear to be in use. Why is that?”
“I think your mistress let the place go. She had no interest in it. If she didn’t hire people to work the land or care for animals, then the land would remain untended. From the look of it, she had let it go for many suns.”
“Why would she do that? Land should be properly cared for if it is to provide for those who live on it.” He sounded like he was quoting one of his books. What had she given him? Random tomes from the library, without any thought to the content? At least she had thought enough to give him something to fill his days. Or the length of time it took one candle to burn down.
“It is hot out here. The sun is very bright. I cannot look at it,” Landor observed a little fearfully.
“Nobody can look at the sun. It’s too bright for all of us. And the rays will eventually burn skin if left unprotected. That’s one of the reasons we wear clothes. As protection against the sun,” Zem said pulling back the short sleeve of his tunic to show the slight variation in his skin colour.
Landor went to touch again, but pulled back. “Your skin is normal?”
“You can touch me, although I wouldn’t suggest you touch anyone else unless you ask permission.”
Landor took him at his word and pressed into his tanned skin with interest. Then he pressed into his own white skin. He turned to me and I held out my arm so he could touch my skin. Which was covered in pale freckles.
“Freckles? Those darker spots are freckles?”
I nodded and groaned. “Unfortunately. I hate them.”
Zem laughed. “I love them.”
“That’s because you don’t have any.”
“All our skin is different in colour but it feels the same. I thought mine might have been thinner because I can see what lies beneath it. The blue veins beneath it. But it does not seem to be.”
For a while longer he played with skin and hair. Particularly one of my red curls that had fallen from its harem knot. I knew he was putting off going into the sunshine. It was understandable.
Finally, he turned from exploring us, even our eyes, and looked out at the sun-bleached drive. It was hard-packed dirt and sand, and it looked too hot for him to walk on without sandals.
“Zem, lend him your sandals. He can’t walk on that.”
Zem sat down and removed his leather sandals quickly. Landor watched him do it and then mimicked his actions to put them on his own feet.
Landor’s feet were larger than Zem’s, probably because he was a few finger-widths taller than he was. I’d already discovered my eyes were level with his chest. He was a tall man, but not gawky with it. Elegant—like a dancer—was how I’d describe him. Every movement was graceful. I found that incredibly attractive, given that most of the men I’d known were heavily muscled and moved accordingly. Zem was the exception. His muscles were well-developed but not heavy, and he moved lightly enough. But I couldn’t say he moved with grace. More precision.
Once he had protection on his feet, Landor began to make his way down the stairs into the sunlight. I think we were all holding our breaths, and Zem and me had our hands at the ready to drag him back if he started to burn up.
He didn’t. In wonder, Landor extended his arm out into the direct sunshine and looked at the light on his skin. Nothing happened.
“It feels hot but not burning hot. Not like a candle flame.”
“I think this will turn out to be just one of the many lies your mistress told you,” I said smugly.
Zem scowled at me. “What Flea means is that you must challenge all you were taught if you’re to grow. It’s something we all have to do. Our parents teach us what
they know, but it isn’t always the truth. Or our truth, anyway. We all have to find our own way.”
“The Mistress was not my parent,” Landor said. “My parents did not want me. They were horrified to have given life to a monster.”
I huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Your mother is a whiney bitch who believed what she was told. They never even showed you to her.”
“And my father?” Landor asked, his deep voice a little shaky.
Before I could answer, the sound of fast approaching beastlings reached us. Zem and I drew our swords reflexively, and Landor stepped back up onto the portico, his face stark with terror.
We stood like that, readying ourselves for whatever was to come, while five riders approached. The well-dressed, dusky-skinned man in the lead was obviously a noble, and he looked familiar. With sudden shock, I realised why. He looked like an older and more colourful version of Landor. His father?
At the portico stairs, the beastlings drew up and the nobleman dismounted. His eyes had found Landor and hadn’t shifted from him since they had.
“It’s true then. I thought my wife was having hysterics. You... You’re alive!” His expression was hard to read. Was it horror disguised? As the man moved closer I started to read him. Not horror at all. Amazement and disgust that he’d never known.
“You look like me,” he said aloud to Landor, as he slowly made his way up the stairs toward us.
I lowered my sword. This man was no threat, and his men wouldn’t be either while ever he was giving the orders. Zem followed my lead, knowing I had read this stranger’s intent.
They were shocking to look at as they stood face to face, staring at each other as if into mirrors of dark and light. Both men were tall, slim and extraordinarily handsome, with almost identical features. Yet Geal’s hair was black as night and fell in corkscrew curls around his shoulders, and his skin was a much darker brown than Zem’s, and his eyes so dark as to be almost black.
With parents like Landor had, it would definitely have been a shock when they parented a white babe. It probably didn’t matter that his eyes weren’t pink. He was already too different to be accepted as normal by anyone.
“How has she kept you from us all these suns? We believed you dead,” Geal said, reaching out a finger in just the way his son had done. The gesture was as elegant as Landor’s. It was an inherited trait, then.
“Your sister by marriage kept your son chained to his bed in a dark prison in the cellar. That’s how,” I told him indignantly.
“No... She couldn’t... That is diabolical!” the increasingly distraught man said.
“I am a monster. She was afraid that if anyone knew, they would try to kill me,” Landor said, in answer or as excuse for his mistress. He was still trying to justify the bitch’s actions.
“They told me you were born deformed and that it was a mercy to put you out of your misery. How could they do such a thing to me!” the man went on as if Landor hadn’t spoken.
“Being an albino is a rare condition some consider a deformity,” Zem pointed out. “In all likelihood your sister by marriage did save his life. The priests would have ended him. They would certainly have done so when he came into his power. He would have been considered an abomination twice over.”
Geal flicked a glance at Zem and then dismissed him.
“Where is the bitch?”
“My mistress is dead. But I didn’t kill her. And I couldn’t save her. I am sorry for that,” Landor told his father sadly.
“Why did you not kill her? She deserved it for what she did to you.”
Landor blinked and drew back a little. This man was his father and yet he condemned Landor for not killing? All his life he’d been kept from killing. How could his father now want such a thing from him? His world was turning upside down.
“Landor is loyal to her. He doesn’t understand. She’s the only person he’s ever spoken to. She provided his food and protected him from the world,” Zem explained.
Geal lost a little of his righteous indignation then, and he went back to studying his son’s appearance as Landor had been studying everything he’d encountered since leaving his cell.
“Your mind... it works properly?” Geal asked, tipping his head to the side.
“I think so. The Mistress taught me to read and write, and I have read all the books she gave me.”
“So the only thing wrong with you is the colour of your skin and hair?”
Landor gave an elegant shrug. “I am a monster.”
Geal swore. “My father and his priests said anyone born with magic not of his loins was an abomination. A mistake of nature. It was not true. They considered you an abomination too, and though you may be a mistake of nature, it seems a minor mistake to me. Having no colour is unfortunate. It does not make you a monster.”
Landor’s eyes widened in disbelief and hope.
“You will come home with me now, son. I will have you cleaned up and dressed befitting a nobleman. I will then teach you what it is to be my son.”
Landor took an involuntary step back. It was too much for him. This stranger was barging his way into the new world he was just discovering for himself—judging him and trying to turn him into something he wasn’t. He believed this man when he declared he was no monster, but that left him not knowing what he was.
“Sir, the Goddess Incarnate sent us to find your son,” Zem put in quickly. “It was the Goddess Herself who told us where to find him. She needs him. There is a great evil coming. Landor will help protect the world from it. Once his task is done he can return to the bosom of his family.”
Geal turned to look at Zem closely for the first time, his eyes narrowing. “And who are you to speak for the Goddess?”
“I am an earth mage and the grandson of the Godling. I am lucky enough to call the Chosen One a friend. My partner is an air mage and sister to the Airlud Calun. We were both there when the Goddess spoke through Airsha, and we were given these marks.” He held out his wrist for the man to see.
I held mine out too, as did Landor, almost proudly.
“What are they? Brands?”
Zem went on. “They appeared on our skins yesterday, at the same moment Airsha spoke her prophesy. There are two more champions yet to find. We are the ones tasked with this quest.”
“How... How can my son help you? He could not even kill the bitch who imprisoned him? She broke him. It is the only explanation. And is it any wonder...”
“Sir,” I spoke up for the first time. “She subjected him to a cruel fate, but he is not broken. He is incredibly strong and resilient. And his gift of healing will be useful to us. The Goddess makes no mistakes. She has chosen him, and I think it was a wise choice.”
“I think I place you now. That red hair of yours. You’re one of those airling riders, aren’t you?”
Flea nodded. “Amongst other things, aye.”
Geal looked from me to his son and back again. “All right. I will accept the Will of The Goddess in this. But you will return him to me. I care little for the strangeness of my son’s appearance. He is my blood. That is all that matters to me. His mother may not accept him, but my other two wives will. He will have a home with us. A family.”
He suddenly looked toward the mansion. “Where is the body. We will have the woman buried as befits her station. I will do that much for my wife.”
Chapter Nine
The three of us sat on the stairs leading down off the portico for a long time after Landor’s father and his men left. We were all a little in shock. The man had been a force of nature, and had Zem not had the strength his warrior magic gave him I doubt we could have withstood him. Looking at Landor now, I was glad he had.
“It is good that he doesn’t see you as a monster. That he accepts you,” I said into the silence that was not silent at all but filled with a chaos of thoughts from both men.
“He wanted me to have killed her,” Landor muttered in disbelief. “All my life I was afraid I might hurt someone. I
willingly accepted being chained because I feared I might hurt someone. And now... Now I am told I should have killed the woman who saved my life?”
“Aye, she saved you,” Zem said softly. “But she also hurt you badly. That is the part your father can’t get past. It is not a condemnation of you, but of her. What he meant is that she deserved to die.”
“He thinks I am broken and cannot do what the Goddess requires of me.”
“He doesn’t know you. Flea was right when she said the Goddess chose wisely. We have done the Will of the Goddess many times, in frightening, confusing situations, but she has never led us astray or let us down.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with Zem in this, but I kept quiet. He was making a point that Landor needed to get. Who was I to undermine him? And I did agree that Landor wasn’t broken. He had incredible inner strength to have survived what would have sent another man mad. It was that strength the Goddess wanted, I was sure.
“What do we do now?” I asked into the pregnant moment after Zem’s speech.
“We stay here for as long as the food lasts, while Landor becomes comfortable with the world. Then we go back to the Airshan Capital and start looking for the other two,” Zem informed me succinctly.
I nodded. That sounded like a good plan. “How do we get back there? We only have two airlings.”
“The way ordinary people travel, I suppose. At least Landor will get to see more of the countryside that way.”
So, with the decision made, Zem went to tell the hack driver he could go, with yet another substantial tip. The man had watched the comings and goings with much interest, seemingly happy to while away the hot day in this novel fashion, and be well compensated for his time.
For the rest of that day we followed the plan. First, with a bath for Landor—his first ever. Then with fresh clothes, which we found in a camphor-scented trunk in an unused room. Likely the clothes of a past family member, Zem concluded after inspecting the quality and size of the garments. The breeches were a little short for someone Landor’s height, but they would do.