The moon moved slowly,
he could see its silvery outline starting up through the clouds that lay over
the horizon, barely obscuring the glowing form.
Almost out now, Wilon thought,
terror edging his customary complacency. Soon it would come up over the horizon
and ride the tops of the clouds as if they were the crest of a wave. Then it would be full-on moonlight… and
full-on night.
He only had a few minutes left;
he tried again to concentrate on exactly how he felt. He never could remember
it all, but sometimes, sometimes he remembered something… different.
Trying not to think about what
had happened to the first people he’d involved proved futile as the moon rose
ever higher. How could he have known? He still didn’t know really. He just knew
he had to be away.
The moon’s glow was echoed
beautifully by his body, which was becoming both brighter and less substantial
every moment. Wilon wished he could hide himself away, not that he hadn’t tried
that too. His moonlight-ridden form seemed untroubled by locks and gates.
He was having trouble
concentrating.
He was so ethereal that the
grove of trees he was standing among could now be seen through him as well as
around him.
He knew nothing more until
morning.
Mellwyn knew he was gone now.
She was the reason he was gone, and he was the reason she was here. She wished
she could take that part back, but she had been young and she hadn’t known that
there was more to it than a willing spirit.
She watched him struggle with
himself, trying to remain whole, trying to remain in control, every night. But
he could not, because of her choice and because he was unwilling.
Still, he did not regret the
things she’d thought he would, and she had been warned. He had always been so sure he was right, and
unwilling to admit anything but what he believed to be true.
Barely old enough to walk, yet
he was walking everywhere he shouldn’t have because he knew he was right. He
never understood that every action has a price. She nearly cried with
frustration at the thought.
But now it was her turn
to be unwilling.
“Still searching, I see,” the
old woman said sadly, shaking her head. Syene could almost feel sorry for the
boy.
“What are you talking about?” He
was always irritable when he could remember nothing new, and today was no
exception.
“The cause of your troubles;
quite heavy ones for a boy so young,” she continued, paying no attention to his
attitude.
“I’m not young, or a boy.”
“Compared to me, you are. Your
life is but a flicker of a torch burning in the heart of a cave.”
He made no reply, thinking, Old
coot, but knowing better than to say it. Trying to get him to believe she was
as old as a Lleyil, everyone knew they were all dead.
Still, something in the old
woman’s stance kept Wilon from saying anything more. She had ignored his
insolence before but did not look like she would tolerate it again without
giving him at least a tongue whipping, and he was not in the mood for one that
morning.
“What would you know of my
troubles?”
“A way… a source… a reason.
Maybe all of these, maybe none, but something, nonetheless.” She smiled, but it
was clear that the smile was not for him. “What do you say? A deal?”
“What do you want in return?”
He’d never heard of a bargain without a price and somehow he knew this wouldn’t
be a gift.
“Nothing you haven’t already
lost.” Syene knew then that he would be convinced.
“And how do I know you’re even
telling the truth?”
“You’ll know. Think about it.
I’ll be back when you’ve decided.”
He was about to open his mouth
to ask how she’d find him when she disappeared off into the trees; with amazing
speed for someone her age, he noted.
He realized then that
the sun was getting high enough in the sky that he would have to run back to
the city. As apprentice he was stuck with the least favored of duties, opening
and setting up the shop for the day’s work.
Mellwyn knew Syene had him
hooked. Humans were quite susceptible to curiosity. That was what had gotten
him, and herself, she thought quickly, into this mess in the first place. It
would get them both out of it, too. In a way.
She was lucky, she thought, to
have such kind and helpful friends. Finally, all would be well.
She smiled and the air
around her fizzed pleasantly. Anyone walking by would have gotten a sudden
chill but thought nothing of it. They might say that it was just someone
walking over their graves.
And it was true, though
not in the way they would have meant it.
All day Wilon found himself
preoccupied, intrigued even, by the woman’s proposition. There had been a time
when he would have ignored her completely, doubtless of his ability to work
everything out on his own. But his night life had taught him otherwise.
But what reason had he
had to believe he couldn’t handle it? He used that as his defense against the
guilt, which began to flood his thoughts.
What could the woman
want that he had already lost? And how could he give it to her if he didn’t
have it? No matter, he thought. She may know things, but she is too old to
force anything from me.
And his decision was made.
She watched and waited, knowing
only that Syene would carry through on her part of the bargain; divining the
boy’s feelings about her offer was only the beginning. Mellwyn’s only clue
would be Syene’s actions- she herself had no way of knowing, especially not
during the day. Her power conquered only the night.
The old woman passed him in the
street, catching his eye and forcing Wilon to look in her direction. He nodded,
acknowledging that she had done as she’d said she would.
Syene smiled only
slightly, and moved on, knowing that everything would work out as planned.
Wilon was impressed that she’d kept her word.
He was so impressed that he
spent the rest of the day considering how right his decision had been, stopping
to consider only briefly that she had somehow known what he was thinking- an
idea that sent chills down his spine- and that he had no idea when he’d see her
again.
He didn’t have long to wait. As
soon as he left the town that night, she appeared. He could have sworn she
simply materialized out of thin air, but he knew it could be easy to hide
amongst the shadows of the trees, which, he convinced himself, she must have
done.
“You agree to the terms?” she
asked.
“You tell me what you know
about… my problem… and I give you something I’ve already lost? Fine. Though I
don’t know how you’re going to get it.” Wilon couldn’t help but think he was
getting the better end of the deal.
Syene just smiled, that cold
smile that was so obviously directed at someone other than Wilon, “Come with me
then,” and led him between the murky green and brown shadows.
“I was once young, like you. But
unlike you, I was a weaver. I could make anything, use any fabric or any dye.
It was all in my hands.”
He kept quiet, not caring about
the old woman’s childhood, but not willing to jeopardize his chance to find the
source of his problems.
“But enough about me… you don’t
have much time left before the moon rises.”
Finally! he thought as she sat
on a rock, one nearly shaped like a chair. He wondered how he hadn’t found it
before in his explorations of these woods, but decided it didn’t matter just
then.
“I’m not going to waste time
trying to make this easy for you,” she paused a moment, letting that sink in,
then pushed on, “Someone you knew once is unhappy, and she finally got into a
position where she could do something about it. Your problem is what she did.”
Syene almost felt bad about telling him, but she felt he had a right to know.
“Unfortunately, she
didn’t know enough about what she was doing. She rushed things. She freed your
soul from your body, but power only works on the willing. You are quite the
opposite. Your soul is only free half the time…”
“At night…”
“Right. And she cannot be within
the same realm as you at any time. Her revenge didn’t work the way she
planned.”
Questions were flying around
Wilon’s head but he managed to ask, “But who? And why?”
“You know her. Her presence is
near you even now as the day’s end mixes with the night’s beginning. This is as
close to you as she may come.”
He could think only of those
hurt when his soul was first freed.
“No,” Syene whispered, “Before
them. There was one other.”
And the old woman was right. He
could almost see her outline, smiling grimly from among the trees.
Could she blame him? Only alone
could he have escaped the cave-in. And she had powers… Lleyil all did, how was
he to know they wouldn’t work during the day? Couldn’t she forgive him?
Revenge?
He could feel the moon beginning
to pass the horizon, thinking about anything became harder, and he could see
the trees nearly as well through his hand as through the air. He stood, staring
at the woman who he still recognized. She had grown, he wondered at that. Did
ghosts grow?
“Now,” the old woman called his
attention back, “payment.”
She pulled something out of her
pack, a cloak radiating darkness as if it were woven out of shadows.
He forgot all his questions.
He could feel his soul
taking hold as night fell.
And that was the last
thing he knew.