To Dream of White & Gold (Death Dreamer Legacy Book 1)

by R. K. Hart

  Lida nodded. ‘My father completed his apprenticeship there.’

  Katrin watched her carefully. ‘We had thought, at first, to write to the Myrae about your mother. But Cathan told us something else, and it makes me think we may have more luck a little closer to home. Siva was a consiler. An advisor.’

  ‘An advisor? Who to?’

  Katrin inclined her head. ‘To the Kali.’

  Lida closed her eyes and stretched out the fingers of her good hand, then cracked each knuckle, a habit that infuriated Maya. When she had repeated this, she opened her eyes again.

  Katrin gave her a tiny smile. ‘I do remember a woman, from when I was very young,’ she said. ‘She would often care for us when my mother was away. I called her ma joli. My brother and I loved her very much. She had green eyes and long, curling hair.’

  Lida choked out a laugh; it had a bitter edge to it. She didn’t need to guess at features any more; the image of Siva with the blood-streaked cheek floated in her mind. The green eyes were full of love, but her mother’s face was etched with exhaustion. I did that, Lida thought. This is the only picture I have of her. ‘Then you remember more than me.’

  There was a long silence.

  Eventually, Tiernan gestured to the book on Lorcan’s lap; Lorcan was holding it so tightly his knuckles were white. ‘Show her,’ Tiernan said.

  ‘Show me what?’

  In answer, Lorcan opened the book and spun it, resting two long fingers next to a paragraph at the end of a page.

  The Gift of Dreaming, the heading said. Lida looked up at him, frowning.

  ‘Read,’ he said roughly.

  ‘Dreaming is an old gift, long dead. Although mentioned in some histories, information is so little and so far between that I am inclined to think it may never have existed at all. I would not have heard of it, but I spoke to a Denan builder who gibbered of ‘dream-workers’ while in his cups, making a cross over his heart all the while, as if a demon might appear and snatch him from his ale as he spoke.

  ‘From the scrolls I have found, dreamers could make their minds walk in sleep, reaching out to others who were dreaming. The strongest were to be feared: they could bring nightmares, or dreams of such pleasure the sleeper resisted waking, and the subtlest could influence their target to do their bidding, visiting each night over a long period of time. Think of such a thing in the hands of one whose motives were unkind. Such meddling would leave no trace, no trail to be tracked; such a thing is insidious and dangerous and should one such emerge once more, they should be taken at once before the King …’ Lida trailed off, and looked up again.

  Lorcan’s eyes were very dark. ‘Do you see?’

  Lida shook her head. ‘All I’ve done is end up in places I shouldn’t be. Surely all of you can do the same. Ava was with me.’

  ‘You took her. You took her hand, and pulled her with you.’

  Lida remembered reaching up to pull Ava into the rock pool.

  ‘Not one other here can do that, cila,’ Katrin said gently. ‘When we sleep, our minds descend. The upper layer becomes quiet. While readers may look at a sleeping mind, there is nothing much to see. Ava was not expecting you to do as you did.’

  ‘I scared her.’

  ‘She trusts you,’ Katrin answered.

  ‘There is more to it,’ Tiernan said.

  Lida bit the inside of her cheek.

  Lorcan tilted his head to the side. ‘Do you remember the book I was looking for?’

  ‘The Reign and Terror of King August,’ Lida recited. She felt as if the title was burned into her memory.

  Lorcan nodded, and took up a tiny, leather bound book from the carpet beside him. ‘Tiernan’s copy is an older edition than my mother’s,’ he said, frowning slightly, as if this was Tiernan’s fault. ‘But the gist is the same.’ He opened the book to a yellowed page, marked with a snippet of black twine.

  ‘I know who King August was,’ Lida said.

  Lorcan’s lips curled slightly at the corners. ‘Indeed. So you will know, then, about his father, King Lucius, and his purges of the gifted. And you will know that August believed that the god Fiou had sent him a vision, telling him to carry on his father’s work.’

  ‘Yes, Lorcan,’ Lida said. ‘I know.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Do you not know more?’

  Lida all but bared her teeth. ‘August was eventually murdered by his own brother, Julis, who was in turn poisoned with mushrooms by his niece and August’s daughter, Attia. Attia was crowned Queen, and it was she who wrote and enforced the first version of the Law of Tolerance. She also built the temple to Eianna, believing the goddess had guided her to kill her uncle, and funded the Kingstown hospice.’

  ‘What about the gifted?’

  Lida’s nostrils flared. ‘What about them?’

  ‘While August was happy to throw almost anyone onto the pyre, including hedgewitches and healers, he specifically targeted dreamers in the early years of his purge, because his father had been driven mad before his death by an Illara named Dana who entered his dreams and turned them to nightmares.’

  Lida blinked at him. ‘What?’

  He smiled properly then, rather smugly. ‘It took me an age to find. This is a very boring book, for all the promises the title makes. August hunted down every dreamer in the four lands and put them to death.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘All. The Isle of the Gods was not uncharted then, and he sent the Eilin navy to sweep the lands of the Myrae, and even offered bounties in Seti and Autere for living dreamers. I do not think it was a common gift, even then, but a handful were shipped across the Kelti from the continent to meet their death. Dena refused, but there must have been only a tiny number of dreamers left.’ He studied her closely for a moment, and snapped the book closed. ‘And you are the last.’

  Lida rubbed her eyes with her good hand. ‘But Jakob said gifts are hereditary. Does that mean Siva’s line is Denan? Or that her forebears somehow escaped the purge on the Isle?’

  ‘We do not know,’ Tiernan said. ‘But if you have this gift, then she likely had this gift, and from what your father said about her healing, someone helped to train her. If we can find out who, then we can help you.’

  ‘Which is why I am here,’ Katrin said, standing up and stretching. ‘Cathan Valson said that we should go north.’

  ‘We?’

  She nodded. ‘He said you need to speak to the Kali. Pack swiftly, cila. We haven’t much time; we must reach Brinnica before the snows. We leave at dawn.’

  ***

  Lida fled the room as fast as she could, almost tripping down the redwood stairs in her haste to escape. Lorcan called after her, but she pretended not to hear. When she got to her bedroom, she shut the door firmly behind her.

  She didn’t want to think about what they had said. You are the last sounded very final to Lida, very definite and very lonely. Instead, she sorted through her wardrobe, methodically pulling out everything she would need to pack. Before Lida had run, Katrin had told her they would stop in Kingstown along the way, and the prospect of seeing Maya and Cathan so soon made her restless. To try to relax herself, she folded everything with exaggerated care.

  Her summer things stayed hung up. She packed every piece of warm clothing she owned, excepting her proper boots and winter coat, which she would need to dig out of her wardrobe at home. She knew that Brinnica’s mountains were capped in snow even during the warmer seasons; it would take them a month to reach the border, by which time they would be uncomfortably close to winter. Eilin ships did not sail north after summer, as the icy seas were too dangerous, so riding overland was the only option.

  Maya’s perfume went into a small side pocket of the pack, as did Siva’s necklace. The rose-gold locket stayed around her neck. Seeing Marnie’s mother’s comb, Lida realised how she should spend at least part of her afternoon: she dug out the rose oil she used to wash her hair and went to run a bath.

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sp; She had a tiny packet of lavender and camomile flowers that Ava had given her, so she sprinkled a small handful in the water, undressing swiftly and unwinding the bandages from her arm and torso, sighing with relief as the heat relaxed her muscles when she stepped in. The bath was big enough for three, and Lida stretched out, submerging her ears and hair under the water. All she could hear was the thunder of the tap; she lazily flicked it off with her foot and lay there, luxuriating in the silence and warmth and the gentle pressure of water in her ears and on her sore shoulder. After a few minutes, she reluctantly sat back up and began to massage oil through her curls as best she could with one hand.

  Running her fingers through the tight ringlets, her thoughts turned again to the memory of Siva, bending down to kiss her own newborn brow, the smudge of blood bright on her smooth brown cheek. Her mother’s curls had been the same as Lida’s, not at all like Maya’s silky waves, which all but fell into a braid. The only time Lida had ever heard her father swear was while he tried to tame the knotty mess of Lida’s locks into some semblance of order; after years of struggling, of growling and stomping and trying and giving up, he had finally ceded his pride and asked Marnie for help. Her mother was Auteran and her father from Seti, and they had gifted her a thick tangle of caramel curls. She taught Lida the few tricks that made looking after her own hair easier.

  Lida had always found it funny, this one thing that Cathan could not manage. He was an excellent father in almost every way, and Lida knew that he was not a typically Eilin father: when the mother of one of her school friends died unexpectedly, the grieving widower sent his daughters to live with their aunt instead. Lida had always been grateful that Cathan had risen to the challenge, simply continuing his work with Maya under his feet and Lida under his arm. Nothing much seemed to daunt him - not monthly bleeding, not Maya’s many admirers, not Lida’s wilfulness - nothing much but Lida’s hair. When she was feeling mischievous, she flaunted it deliberately, leaving it unbound and wild for festivals and dinners instead of pulling it back demurely like everyone else. Cathan would grind his teeth, but he never reprimanded her.

  After seeing the memory of Siva, Lida wondered if there was another reason Cathan had struggled so much with her curls; another reason he had never asked her to bind them or to hide them.

  She sank back under the water to rinse out the oil, then sat and wrung out the excess water, knotting the mass loosely at the nape of her neck. She rested her head on her folded towel, and closed her eyes.

  She hadn’t meant to do anything more than that, but she slipped into sleep before she could stop herself, and fell into a dream of the endless white expanse. The white stretched further than she could see in every direction; it was so big that she ceased to matter, ceased to be. The pressure of the unbroken white was overwhelming, and she dropped her gaze to her feet.

  Below her lay thousands and thousands of tiny gold lines, shining so brightly they hurt her eyes.

  Her body moved without her telling it to, as if acting on instinct; for a moment she was so surprised she let it happen, and then she began to struggle, to resist, though it made no difference. Her knees bent and her arms reached and she slowly started to gather the gleaming lines together, pulling them up from the white, one by one, to settle in a thick glowing rope in her palm. They were unsettlingly warm, and so heavy she needed to fight to lift them, to keep her hand steady as they weighed her down. With her free hand, she reached into the pocket of her shift, and pulled out a pair of silver scissors. Her fingers positioned the blades, and in one quick motion, she hacked through the golden rope. The lines fell from her hand, dissolving into grey ash; she shrieked in agony and dropped to her knees.

  There was a hammering sound. ‘Lida!’

  She woke with a start and a splash. The bathwater had gone cold.

  Lida!

  ‘I’m all right,’ she called aloud, as Lorcan’s mindvoice echoed outside her shield. She put a hand to her cheek and found it wet; she had been weeping in her sleep. She stared at the water, livid at herself for doing something so dangerous.

  The hammering stopped abruptly; she realised that it was a fist pounding on her bathroom door. ‘Do you need help?’

  ‘No!’ she cried, mortified. ‘I’m fine.’

  The dream was dissolving with every moment, and soon the golden lines and silver scissors were all she could remember, and a sense of grief and guilt so great her chest began to ache.

  What did I do? she wondered.

  She clambered from the bath and wrapped herself in the sizeable towel, her still-damp hair falling down her back. She stomped to the door and opened it, angry and embarrassed.

  Lorcan stared at her, his face creased with concern. His hair had been raggedly cut; it was now some inches above his shoulders and sat in a mop of black curls across one side of his forehead. It made him look more like Jakob, and far less wild. Marlyn hovered in Lida’s doorway, a pair of scissors in one hand; her shoulders were tight and her bottom lip was between her teeth. Lida stared at the scissors uneasily. They were made of steel, not silver, but they still flashed menacingly in the afternoon light.

  ‘Lida?’ Lorcan said, uncertain.

  Lida pulled her towel tighter around her and shook her head to clear it. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘What is wrong?’ he repeated. ‘You were keening! We thought you were hurt!’

  ‘I said I’m fine, Lorcan,’ she snapped. ‘I was asleep.’

  He blinked, taking in the towel and wet hair, seemingly for the first time. ‘You fell asleep in the bath? You might have drowned!’ He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the mop of curls from one side of his face to the other. ‘How could you be so stupid?’

  Lida bristled. It had been stupid, but it was not his place to tell her so. She glared.

  ‘Thank you for your concern,’ she said icily. ‘Have we finished? Or was there something else you wanted?’

  One dark eyebrow raised slightly. ‘Definitely not,’ he said softly.

  ‘Then get out,’ Lida spat.

  Lorcan spun gracefully on his heel and strode out. Marlyn threw Lida a worried glance before she and her scissors withdrew, quietly closing the bedroom door behind her.

  Lida stood still for a moment, then dropped her towel on the floor and angrily pulled a clean shift from her wardrobe, muttering under her breath when she found it needed lacing. She tried to get it done up, but the fingers on her bad arm were clumsy after weeks of stillness and after four attempts she gave up, pulling the thing back over her head and throwing it down next to her towel. She shook her hair around her face and sat on the edge of her bed.

  It was a long time before she got back up.

  ***

  After she had dinner with Ava, Lida went to see Jakob again, to say goodbye. He was reading when she got there; she ground her teeth when she took in the tiny edition of The Reign and Terror of King August.

  Jakob frowned at her as he set it aside. ‘It is probably not worth much now,’ he said, ‘but I did promise your father I would take care of you, and I do not think he would thank me if you accidentally drowned yourself in a few inches of water.’

  She stopped still. ‘Lorcan told on me?’

  ‘He did not have to,’ Jakob answered sharply. ‘Everyone heard you keening. Lor and Marlyn just got there first.’ He paused. ‘Why were you crying?’

  ‘I was dreaming.’

  ‘It must have been quite a dream. I have never heard anything so sad.’

  Lida shrugged. She couldn’t explain what she remembered of the dream to herself, let alone to Jakob.

  He sighed. ‘Will you be more careful, cila? It is a long trip to Brinnica.’

  ‘Luckily there won’t be many baths along the way.’

  ‘Try to avoid other bodies of water as well, just to be safe.’

  Lida grinned. ‘That would make for a memorable arrival. Perhaps I can scare the Kali into telling me all she knows of my mother.’ She perched on the edge of his bed.

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p; A smile tugged at his lips. ‘You can try. The Kali is the bravest woman in Brinnica.’

  ‘You’ve met her?’

  He nodded. ‘Four times only. Lorcan has been to l’Cour du Kali more often than I; our father preferred me to go to Dena.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I speak better Denan than he does.’

  ‘And Lorcan’s Brinnican is far better than yours.’ Mikal placed a tray on Jakob’s bedside table, piled high with food, just as Lida’s had been. ‘You really should practice.’ Mikal turned to her. ‘What were you thinking?’

  Mikal’s disapproval hit Lida far harder than Jakob’s had done. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking at the floor.

  ‘Good,’ Mikal snapped. ‘Do not do that again, or I will instruct Dylan to chaperone you every time you bathe.’

  Lida glared at him sullenly.

  ‘I have something for you. Wait.’ He disappeared out the door and came back a moment later with a length of wide bandage and a small white pouch. He held it up. ‘Willowbark,’ he said. ‘But only if you need it.’

  He lifted her arm, still unbound after her bath, and showed her how to wrap it in a tight sling.

  ‘You may start using it again, but not to pick up anything heavy.’ He poked gently at her shoulder, and she felt a gentle pull and a sudden warmth in the joint as he used his gift to examine it. ‘It’s healing well. Try to keep it immobile for most of the day, if you can. Katrin will look after you now; ask Ella if Katrin is busy. Alys if you must. She’s better with illness than injury.’

  She frowned. ‘It’s not just Katrin and I?’

  ‘No. Katrin, Ella, Alys, Dylan. Dylan and Ella have completed their training; they are going back to the snow for some months, at least. Dylan may not return south at all. Alys’ grandmother has been ill; she is going home to see her.’ He gave a slight smile. ‘And Lorcan, of course; he must continue your training. Jak would have gone, but ...’ he gestured to the bed.

  Lida’s stomach sank. She didn’t quite know what had been in Lorcan’s voice as he’d said definitely not, but she was very sure that he wouldn’t be happy to have her as his student. ‘Can’t Katrin teach me?’