Chapter 9 – Questions and Answers

 

I woke up some hours later, shaken from sleep by a horrific dream. Water and wind. Drowning. Even when I found myself safe in Enhyla’s hut, the fear clung to my mind, and I had to draw several deep breaths to convince myself I wasn’t suffocating. The room had grown quite dark, but as my eyes adjusted I could make out the shifting patterns of shadow in the canopy above. I rolled over. The flickering light of a small fire and a soft murmur of voices drifted in from the other room. I edged toward the partition until I could hear more clearly.

“But it is too uncertain,” Tyhlaur was saying. “Yatol, I only just came from there.”

“And you came through, didn’t you? You’re here now.”

“I must agree with Tyhlaur,” said Enhyla, so quiet that I almost couldn’t hear him. Then, louder, “It is most direct, that is true, but it is far more treacherous.”

“And is she even ready?” Tyhlaur asked. “I admit, I don’t know everything there is to know about this task, but even so it seems to me that whoever undertakes it would need strength and courage beyond what normal men have.”

I inched forward, curious.

“She already knows where we are going,” Yatol said.

“So? She may know, but is she ready?” Tyhlaur insisted. “She’s so young, and untried. Why did they send for her so soon? She didn’t even know her father’s role here. And if he couldn’t help us, how could a child like her—”

“She’s as old as you are, Tyhlaur. Don’t judge her rashly or you judge yourself, too. Besides, do you think Onethyl would have brought her if it wasn’t time?”

“I can’t say it gives me much hope.” His voice was sharp, rebellious.

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Yatol hissed. “Don’t lay blame on her or anyone else for that.”

I peered through the cracks in the partition. Tyhlaur shrugged, running a hand through his shock of wheat-blonde hair. Enhyla glanced from one to the other.

“Well, Tyhlaur, I would also tell you this: do not doubt her.”

Yatol lowered his head. Enhyla studied him gravely. But neither of them said a word, and Tyhlaur seemed oblivious to them both.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Yatol. Remember what Davhur said.”

“Could I forget it?” His voice sounded almost bitter.

“Nothing is certain,” Enhyla interjected.

“Yatol would have us think so. He would have us believe…”

“Tyhlaur, be silent!” Yatol got to his feet. “You know nothing of these things. You know nothing!”

Tyhlaur’s eyes flamed. “He converses with angels and thinks himself all-knowing.”

Yatol stared down at him, and I could see his face in profile. There was the strangest expression on his face, wroth and wounded at the same time. Finally he shook his head and strode out of the hut, leaving the ivy tendrils swaying in the doorway behind him. Tyhlaur didn’t watch him go.

“Get some sleep,” Enhyla said. “The fire will burn down soon enough.”

Tyhlaur nodded, his lips still pursed with muted anger.

“Tyhlaur.” Enhyla stopped beside him, gesturing for him to get up. As Tyhlaur rose, Enhyla said softly, “Do not rest on angry thoughts. Sleep clears the mind. Perhaps what angered you at this late hour you will find reasonable at last.”

Tyhlaur looked skeptical, but he nodded out of respect and disappeared from view. I thought Enhyla turned his head ever so slightly toward me, and lifted his hands as if in prayer.

“Let him be consoled. He conducts himself in wisdom,” he murmured, then he too vanished beyond the wall.

I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out cautiously and crept back to the furs, but I couldn’t go to sleep. Not now. I desperately wanted to know where Yatol was, to find out what they were talking about. What had my father had told them? Why was Tyhlaur so anxious about me? His words made me feel small and inadequate. Or, smaller and more inadequate than I already felt.

I sat cross-legged in the dark, wide-awake and keenly aware of every noise. For a while all I heard was the crackle of the fire and the wind in the roof, but presently I caught a faint rustle of underbrush outside. I tried to peer through the narrow slats in the living wall, but I couldn’t see a thing. I wondered if I could sneak out the front door without anyone hearing. But then I discovered a gap between the trunks in the corner of my room, just wide enough for me to slither through.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind asked how I would find my way back in the dark, but I ignored it. Details. I slipped out of the hut, and once clear, followed the rustling until it stopped abruptly. I kept on in the direction it had been heading, and soon the trees give way to a broad clearing. There in the center I glimpsed Yatol’s vague silhouette, standing with head bowed and hands pressed to his forehead. My heart ached, and I quickened my pace.

“What troubles you, Farseer?”

I stopped short, fading behind a nearby tree as quietly as I could. A soft light filled the clearing, silver blue like the shimmer of stars on the sea. The low, resonant voice seemed to thread off into the night, never really dying until it spoke again. It reached me hiding behind the tree, and some sliver of my heart hoped it was speaking to me. My curiosity got the better of me, and I peered around the trunk.

A lump caught in my throat when I saw who had spoken. Silver-white hair streamed around a face radiant with starshine, eyes more piercing and gentle than a dove’s gazed on Yatol’s bowed form. His skin shimmered like sapphire pearl, or blue-hot flame, and many translucent wings curled around his figure. He reached out his hands and clasped Yatol’s arms, lifting him to his feet.

“What is it that troubles you?”

“You know what brought me here?” Yatol asked, gesturing back toward the hut.

Two wings lifted like hands toward the sky, and a beautiful smile flooded the serene face. “A time long awaited has come at last! But does this then cause you grief?”

“I’m uncertain,” he murmured. “And I have a duty… He shouldn’t have chosen me. I’m afraid I will lead us astray, and we have no opportunity for a second chance now.”

“Why do you believe that? You do not know all things, Yatol. Do not think that what is beyond your wisdom to grasp, is impossible to accomplish.”

I could tell the reply didn’t satisfy Yatol. He cast his head back to gaze at the sky, sighing. “I don’t even know what to say, to explain the task ahead of us. I don’t know where we must go, or how we must get there…or if we are even ready to do it. Tyhlaur thinks this is all premature, and I can’t help wondering if he is right.”

“Tyhlaur is a child, impetuous like a child. His heart is true but he lacks wisdom. It would not be well to let his judgments alter yours.”

“Mykyl, I don’t even understand what Davhur set out to learn. Don’t you know what happened to our people from the beginning? Haven’t you seen it all unfold? If he sought the truth of our past, why couldn’t you just tell him?”

Mykyl laughed, the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. “The way we perceive things, child, is not the way of man. We see things both now and always Now. We could not speak such things through any language of man, nor bring you to understand if we could. Yes, Davhur went to learn of your past. Some things he discovered, but not all. If you worry that you and she are not prepared, perhaps it is because you have not gained the knowledge that Davhur found. There was a reason he sought those answers. Merelin will know where to find them. Until she does, of course you will not understand where you are going or how you must get there – or what you must do when you arrive.”

“But it isn’t safe.” His voice caught, and he turned away. “I can’t do that to her. I saw what happened…”

“She will not be made to take that passage more times than she can bear.”

“And I?”

Mykyl folded his arms, studying Yatol with a soul-piercing gaze. “I tell you neither to stay nor to go. There is nowhere she can go now that is free of peril.” He turned his head and stared straight at me. “But perhaps you should ask her what she would like.”

Yatol swung around. I knew there was no point hiding, so I crept out from the shadows. I took three steps toward them but couldn’t force myself to go any farther. I wasn’t exactly afraid. Awestruck. Power just radiated from Mykyl, like nothing I had ever seen or felt, like a lure and a barrier all at the same time. Finally Yatol came to my side, drawing me with him toward Mykyl.

I was still staring at Mykyl when he spoke to me again.

“Hail and well met, Daughter of the Exiles!”

I jolted. Daughter of the Exiles…ele eklethir. It sounded so familiar. It seemed to echo something deep in my memory, like a faint refrain of music that lingers in your mind when you can no longer recall the melody. I frowned, wracking my thoughts and recollections for its source. Ele eklethir…iell egledhruir. I gave a little gasp, turning wondering eyes on Mykyl.

“I thought you were asleep,” Yatol said softly. “How long have you been here?”

“Since…” I wrenched my gaze away from Mykyl, turned to Yatol. “Since he came. I worried when you left and Enhyla prayed… Are you consoled, Yatol?”

“Enhyla prayed that I be consoled?”

I nodded, realizing too late what I’d said. I opened my mouth, dismayed, but Yatol smiled.

“I’m not angry. If you listened in on our conversation, I can’t blame you. I’m sorry if we woke you up. We’re not used to having to keep our voices down.” He studied me a moment, then added softly, “Don’t take what Tyhlaur said the wrong way. He’s passionate and sometimes a fool, but he means well. But he has forgotten how to trust.”

“I…” My voice died in a frown, and I stared fixedly at the ground. “I hope you don’t trust in vain.”

“Hush! Don’t even think that.” I nodded mutely, and Yatol glanced back at Mykyl, saying, “What do you think of what Mykyl and I have been discussing?”

“I have to go back.” The thought made me strangely sad. “And you?”

Yatol sighed. “I remember the stories of when Davhur first went through the portal to your world. They say he came back so bewildered, so dismayed. When he said he wanted to go back, everyone was amazed. He had so much strength. So much devotion. He endured so much for his people. He was the greatest man I have ever known. I don’t know that I would have that strength.”

“I knew he didn’t belong there. I could see it in his eyes, but I never knew what it meant. And I never felt…”

My throat tightened. Yatol prompted me to finish, but I didn’t know if I could find my voice. I frowned, giving a little exasperated gesture with my hand.

“My mother always said I was more like him than anyone.”

It was all I could manage, but I trusted Yatol would understand what I meant. From the expression on his face, I could tell he did.

“I won’t ask you to come with me,” I added. “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to find the answers. I don’t really understand the questions.”

Someone was standing behind me. A warm golden glow sifted across my arms and the ground at my feet, mingling with Mykyl’s pale blue radiance. Mykyl gazed past me, meeting another’s eyes. Some deep meaning passed between them, something I couldn’t understand. Yatol inclined his head and took a step back. I stared at him in panic.

“Now? But Yatol, we just got here. I can’t leave yet. I don’t know what to do!”

He gave me a thin, tense smile, but he was already fading from my view. “You do, you always have. Don’t be afraid!”

“But I’m not ready…”

I stumbled and slumped forward.

* * *

“Hey, you okay?”

Someone was shaking me. I muttered something, dragging my eyes open against a harsh glare of sunlight. My back ached, and one of my legs had fallen asleep, heavy and numb. The rough bark of a tree scraped my arms as I sat up.

“You’re awake! Man, you all right? You don’t look so good. I was just thinking, you know, maybe I should call a doctor or something.”

I squinted at the figure hovering over me. He looked about Tony’s age, but unlike Tony’s annoying habit of dressing up every single day, this guy wore army green shorts and a faded orange T-shirt that totally didn’t match, with a patch-plastered backpack slung over one shoulder. Since he seemed so concerned I made an effort at a smile.

“Yeah, just a little disoriented, sorry,” I said, forcing the words out.

“But, um…” He gestured at his face. “You’ve got a bit of a bruise there. I mean, if I can walk you to the nurse’s office…”

Think fast. I laughed. “Nah, not necessary. Tae kwan do. Not my best, uh, day.”

Did they call it a bout or a match…? The guy just smiled uncertainly. I was apparently not the world’s best liar.

“Crazy. I came out here to think. Guess I must have fallen asleep.”

I braced myself against the tree and pushed myself to my feet, wincing at a shaft of splintering pain in my head. The ground churned. I staggered a step. It felt like someone had fixed ten of those athletic weights to my feet, and I was afraid to walk. I knew I must have looked totally out of sorts, drunk even, the way I could hardly keep my balance. I almost mentioned my headache as an excuse, but clamped my mouth on the words before they could escape. Like that wouldn’t just make things worse.

“You a student here?”

“What, who me?”

I shielded my eyes from the intense sunlight and cast a quick glance around. The university. I should have known Onethyl would leave me here. I put both hands on my head and shook it back and forth, slowly, feigning a neck-ache.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe I fell asleep.” I rubbed a numb spot on my spine, adding with a grim smile, “And that I didn’t wake up with all the tree roots sticking in my back.”

The student laughed. “No kidding. Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…”

“Yeah, I am, thanks. And thanks for waking me up.”

“No charge. Well, hey, I have to get to class.”

I almost asked how he could be going to class, but remembered that summer term was on and bit my tongue on sounding stupid. “Yeah, I need to hit the library.”

He told me to have fun and sauntered off. I was glad he did – I still didn’t trust my legs, and was afraid for anyone to see it. I took a few cautious steps, baby-like, and gradually my balance adjusted. Still fighting the nauseating headache, I made my way across the campus to the old brick library.

It had always been my favorite place at the university. My dad used to take me with him when he had research to do, and I would wander around the stacks and stare at thick, musty books as if I could understand them. I vividly remember sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding some huge heavy book that could probably serve double-duty as a weapon, sounding out single words at a time into the dusty silence. Sometimes Dad took me down to the archives in the basement, but I always found the pristine rooms rather boring. I discovered some old industrial-type rooms down there, with strange lights, curving cement passages, and mysterious, forbidden doors. Those had been fun. Sometimes I still went there to escape the mundane. But never without pain. In those quiet moments among the books and stacks I missed my dad the most.

I practically tiptoed into the library. The foyer always intimidated me – it was a huge, marble-clad room, cool and dim under its high domed ceiling. I stepped under the rotunda and heard my sandals tapping gently on the white stone floor. The sound brought me up short. I hadn’t even realized that I still wore the clothes Yatol had given me. I almost panicked. Great. As if wobbling around like a drunk wasn’t bad enough, now I looked like I’d gotten lost somewhere between the Ren Faire and a fantasy convention. On top of it all, I almost felt as clinically crazy as I must have looked.

My mind raced. Tony had told me once about a guy who wore kilts to school, and a girl who wore capes – big flamboyant things, with fur. Maybe the student workers would mistake me for one of that clique. I tried to act natural, and escaped with only a few smiles of condescending amusement from the students behind the reference desks. I bristled under their gazes and took the elevator up to the third floor.

I don’t know why I went there. I never really paid much attention to what books were on which floors, and didn’t try to find out when I got out of the elevator. I wandered over to the windows and stared down at the campus below. I had never felt so close to my father as at that moment. But I was born here, in this world. It was my world. Somehow I still felt like an exile. The thought tormented me. I sat down in one of the study chairs, burying my head in my hands.

“Yatol,” I whispered to the air. “What am I supposed to do?”

Someone knocked a book off a nearby table.

“Mer!”

I started up, saw Damian stumbling over to my chair. He was on the verge of tears – he, Damian, who hadn’t shed a tear that I’d seen his whole life, not even the day the cops told us they were calling off the search for Dad. Seeing him like that made me burst into tears. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing bitterly. I couldn’t tell what he would do, if he would demand an explanation, or yell at me for disappearing. I should have known, though. It was Damian. Only one thought was on his mind.

“Are you all right?” He stepped back to study me intently, brushing the tangled hair from my face, touching my still-sore cheek. “What happened, are you okay?”

“I’m okay…” I said, taking a deep breath to steady my voice. “You have no idea! Dad, and Arah Byen…and Mykyl! But I’m supposed to…I don’t know what to do…but they need me!”

I was nearly in hysterics, trying to put into words the thousands of thoughts that tumbled through my mind. Damian shook his head firmly.

“Don’t worry. Don’t say anything. You can explain when you can. Let’s just get you back home…”

He put his hands on my shoulders but I wrenched away in frustration.

“No, D, I can’t! I can’t go home, because I’ll have to leave again. I can’t do that to Mom. Can’t you see?”

I clenched my hands in fists, seeing how hurt and confused he was.

“Merelin, let’s get you home.”

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m not sick, and I’m not crazy. Look at me, Damian. Look at these clothes! Where do you think I’ve been?”

He shook his head again, almost wincing. “You always had such an imagination…”

If anyone else had said it, I would have flown into an indignant rage. But it was Damian, and hearing those words from him made my heart break. Suddenly something switched off – or on – in me, and I swallowed back my grief.

“So, where’s the search party? Aren’t you going to call and tell them you found me?”

“Mom didn’t call one out. She went to town. She said was going to the police.” He stared, not at me, but through me, narrowing his hazel eyes as he thought. “I followed her. I couldn’t help it. But she went to Mr. Dansy’s shop instead. I don’t know why. She talked to him, then came home. I asked her if they were going to send out a search. She just said she was sure they would find you, but she was so distant, and sad. I couldn’t make myself ask her anything else.”

“Does she know?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Know what? Mer, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I have to explain it, then. Now.” I pointed to the chair, and Damian sat down silently. It was big enough for the two of us, so I sat beside him and fixed my gaze on my hands. “Damian, it’s about Dad. About his disappearance.”