‘I was just thinking what I say is no more than a basket of words. I judge myself, I still make mistakes. I’m still learning. I’m sure Rey would say the same. Just be... kind, to yourself and others, but at the same time be firm – even harsh – when you need to be. Kindness is not always about giving in.’
Myv nodded. ‘Rey once said our instincts are like a tracker. They already know the way, and can read the signs, but our everyday selves can talk very loudly and can argue against what our instincts know. We need to understand the difference. Sometimes, the everyday self has useful things to say, sometimes it’s just afraid.’
‘I agree with all of that,’ I said. ‘I wish I could meet Rey. He seems a very interesting har.’
Myv grinned. ‘He’d say you were a bit stiff.’ He covered his mouth with his hands. ‘Oh, tiahaar, I’m sorry... I meant...’
I laughed. ‘No offence taken. He’d be right!’
‘I think he’d like you, though, after he’d talked with you.’
‘Well, perhaps one day that will happen.’
Myv said nothing, and again I didn’t pursue it.
‘We might as well begin your caste training soon,’ I said. ‘When you reach feybraiha you can take the Ara initiation.’ Given what Myv already knew, I felt sure it would be best, and most meaningful, if his first caste ascension took place during this rite of passage. I was confident that would happen the following year, if not before. He’d started growing before my eyes in the past few weeks. Perhaps Nature herself would accelerate his maturing, because he would need to be adult to fulfil his role properly. There was a vacuum within Gwyllion, and as the ancient saying goes, Nature abhors a vacuum.
‘Are you going to stay here until my feybraiha?’ Myv asked, a certain edge in his voice.
‘I intend to,’ I said smoothly. ‘I can’t make promises, because we never know what life might throw at us, but whatever happens, I’ll make sure you have access to a mentor. High caste hara can communicate over distance using only their minds and the ethers.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘I’ve not used it for a while,’ I said, ‘but if I had to, I could.’
‘Don’t you speak to your family that way?’ Myv asked, in all innocence. ‘Your son?’
‘They’re not that highly trained. I send my son letters,’ I answered glibly, knowing this young har would wonder afterwards why the son of a hienama wasn’t trained in that way. He’d wonder why we didn’t want to keep in touch with one another all the time, other than through the lengthy process of written letters.
I considered also that the instruction of a young hienama was not a short job. Myv would need the support of a trained har for years, at least until he’d ascended to Acantha. Many community hienamas didn’t progress beyond that level – and it provided what they needed to function – but if Myv wanted to train further he’d need the assistance of others. Even in my own mind, I continued to hedge around how long I’d stay in Gwyllion. I still didn’t think of myself as a permanent fixture in this community, and yet here I was embarking upon work to which I really should commit myself for a long time. It was almost as if I was waiting for something else, something my inner tracker was already aware of, something that would lead me away from these hara. I knew now I wouldn’t return to Jesith. One solution to the problem would be that Myv could visit me wherever I settled a couple of times a year for caste training and ascensions, but we’d have to see. There was much to live through first.
Towards mid-afternoon, after so much talking, I sensed we were ready to conclude our first training session, such as it was, and told Myv we could continue in two days’ time. Then his education could begin in earnest and I’d test his capabilities, particularly concerning healing, since that was most called-for in communities, not least for hara’s livestock. He had already showed his aptitude for this when he’d helped with Gen’s injury. Myv asked to use the bathroom before he left. While he was out of the room, I cleared away the tea things, considering I’d ride part of the way back with the harling and then leave the path to visit the Pwll Siôl Lleuad, see if I could pick anything else up. Rinawne would be over for dinner, but I had plenty of time.
Myv had scampered up the stairs to the bathroom, but when I heard him returning, his step was slower, heavier. This alerted me immediately. He came into the room, and for some moments looked far from adulthood, once more a tiny harling. His face was pinched and white. I went to him at once, and hugged him. ‘What is it, Myv?’ I asked.
‘There was... a strange har upstairs,’ he said, and then began to cry, a heart-rending sound of utter grief.
‘Sssh,’ I murmured, patting his back. I wasn’t the most expert at dealing with harlings, especially those in distress. ‘Are you hurt? Did this har speak to you?’
Myv sniffled, and I let him go to fetch a cloth for him to blow his nose on. Now, he looked embarrassed, clearly mortified he’d burst into tears in front of me, when he’d spent all afternoon proving to me how capable and knowledgeable he was.
‘It’s OK,’ I said gently, handing him the cloth. ‘You know there’s nohar else here with us, Myv, so what you saw wasn’t a living har. It’s natural to be upset and shaken by that. Come on, sit down again for a minute. Tell me about it.’
He drew in a shuddering breath and went back to his seat at the table. ‘He made me feel so sad,’ he said, ‘like I was nothing but sadness. His face was a like a picture of tears.’
‘Tell me what he looked like.’
‘He was dressed in shabby clothes, just standing there, looking at me. He said “Tell me if it’s still happening” and every word was like a pin in my heart. I had to turn my back and get out, slam the door on him. That was wrong, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t I have stayed and asked questions, found out who he was and why he was so sad? I knew it wasn’t real, tiahaar, and yet more real than anything.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Hush now, no need for that.’ I sat down at the table and pulled my chair closer to his. ‘Myv, I think what you saw was a human woman, not a har. I’ve seen her up there too.’
His eyes opened wider, and now curiosity began to suppress his fear and sadness. ‘Really? Who is she? A ghost?’
‘Well first, yes, really. Second, I think she might be an ancestor of yours, from the human era. And third, I’m not sure she’s exactly a ghost. She’s not alive here and now, but I think what we see is somehow more than a spirit.’
‘What does she want?’
‘Well, the answer to a question, don’t you think? Something bad happened here in the past, Myv, and she’s tied here because of it. My inner tracker says to put clocks in that room. Don’t ask me why, but I believe this will draw her out. That might be why you saw her today, so clearly, in daylight.’
Myv smiled in a watery way, his eyes still wet. ‘I did wonder about the clocks! So you’re helping her.’
‘I hope to.’
‘Can I help with that too?’
I hesitated. ‘Well, we’ll see.’
He looked crestfallen, perhaps thinking he’d failed a test.
I put a hand on his arm. ‘It isn’t because I don’t think you’re capable, Myv. It’s just that at the moment I don’t know what I’m dealing with, and I don’t want to put you in danger. Let me find some things out for myself first, then perhaps you can help.’
He nodded. ‘All right.’
I realised that Myv – as the future generation – deserved to be part of what I was doing, but I had spoken the truth. He should be intrinsic in the cleansing of this community, but must also be protected. It was a tricky and precarious situation. There was also another delicate aspect to consider. ‘Myv,’ I said, ‘Please don’t mention what you saw here at home. I don’t like asking you to keep it secret, but your hostling is extremely sensitive about past history. We mustn’t worry him yet, mainly because I don’t know why that woman’s here. Do you understand?’
‘Oh yes,’ Myv said firmly. ‘Rey told me l
ong ago that some things I see I should never mention to anyhar.’ He looked at me earnestly. ‘He said it was to protect my family.’
Again, the urge to probe and question, but I let it lie. ‘Then heed what he said. I’ll not keep you in the dark for any longer than is necessary, I promise.’
‘Rey said the same,’ Myv murmured bitterly. ‘Then he was gone.’
I paused for a moment, then asked. ‘Myv... have you noticed anything strange at home recently, similar to the woman you just saw?’
‘There has always been... strange things,’ he replied.
‘What like?’
He shrugged. ‘Feelings, mostly, not all of them good. Sometimes I see shadows that move, or pale things moving within shadow. Rey told me they were part of the past, that I shouldn’t mind them.’
‘And he told you not to speak about them as well?’
Myv nodded. ‘It’s best the others don’t know. I know my hostling worries a lot. He hides it, but I can hear him thinking. He dreams badly too.’
‘Can you see his dreams?’
‘Only by accident sometimes. I don’t try to, because they’re horrible. Monsters without faces that can scream.’
‘Has he always had these dreams?’
‘Yes, but I don’t think he remembers them when he’s awake.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ I took Myv’s shoulders in a strong hold. ‘Listen to me: I’d like you to take extra care at home now. Did Rey teach you anything about self-protection?’
Myv looked almost insulted. ‘Tiahaar, I have always done that.’ He paused. ‘Is something going to happen?’
‘Yes, I think it is. I’m going to see your hura, Medoc, tomorrow. Again, please don’t mention this to anyhar. I’ll tell you what I can afterwards. I know this involves your family, Myv, and I won’t hide things from you if I can possibly help it.’
The harling’s eyes had widened, excited. ‘Is it to do with that woman upstairs?’
‘Yes, I believe so. She has something she wants to tell us about your family’s history, and I’m hoping that will help us deal with what’s building up now.’
‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ Myv said, his shoulders slumping. ‘Rey warned me things might change as I grew older.’
‘Yes, I think you’re part of it, through no fault of your own. But I also believe it isn’t something we can’t deal with. Do you trust me?’
Myv drew in his breath, straightened on his chair. ‘Wyva asked the dehara for a hienama. You came to us. I have to trust you.’
Although I’d planned to ride part of the way home with Myv, I now let him leave the tower ahead of me, mainly because I knew he’d want to ask more questions about what he’d seen and about his family’s past. I didn’t want to deal with this because I didn’t want to lie to him, but neither would I feel comfortable confiding in him fully just yet. It was his right to know, of course, but he was still so young and what I’d sensed in the Mynd, and in the landscape itself at certain times, was cruel and strong. I’d prefer not to have Myv tested by that at such an early stage in his training. Something had awoken and had come inside the Mynd, perhaps back inside. I watched from the kitchen window as Myv rode his pony back into the forest. He was a sturdy soul. I hoped this was enough to keep him safe.
Rinawne arrived early, and despite our air-clearing at the weekend, I could tell he was trying to disguise a fretful state of mind. I reminded myself he was my ally and friend. He wanted more than I was prepared to give him, but appeared to have accepted that situation gracefully. He deserved my full attention. Yet even so, I had to fight the sly little thoughts that slipped through the cracks in my mind, which selfishly wanted only to think about Nytethorne Whitemane. It was a difficult evening.
Over dinner, we made plans to visit Medoc the following day – the Wyvern domain was around a two-hour ride from Gwyllion if we went at a steady pace and didn’t exhaust the horses. Wyva would be fully occupied with his community meeting until mid-evening. After farming out all his daily chores, Rinawne would have the entire day to himself. But behind our light-hearted discussions I could sense that Rinawne’s discomfort lay brooding. He merely played with his food, eating little. I decided to tell him about the woman I’d seen – but for now omitting to mention Myv had seen her too – and my idea for drawing her out. ‘She must know everything,’ I said.
Rinawne frowned at me, a fork drooping from his hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about her before?’
I spoke without hesitation, and gilded my words with a white lie. ‘Well, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, but I glimpsed her again earlier. I’ve never sensed her during the day before. Maybe she’s the obvious key to everything, which I’ve overlooked.’
‘Well, yes, I’d say she sounds pretty important! Can we go to the bathroom later? See if she’ll show herself to me?’
‘I think – if you’re serious about that – you should go alone. Two living energies would be too much. I sense she’s tenuous, even if her ability to manifest is strengthening.’ I smiled at Rinawne over the table. ‘I take it your scepticism has taken something of a beating?’
He grimaced, nibbled a morsel of food. ‘You could say that.’
But my ghost didn’t want to meet Rinawne. Although he spent nearly half an hour sitting in the dark there after midnight, he saw and sensed nothing. We’d spent most of the evening in bed, which had taken considerable effort on my part. I’d had to guard my thoughts, and withhold myself during aruna, because all I could think about was Nytethorne. Rinawne must have known I was holding back. I wasn’t happy with myself over this.
I lay staring at the ceiling while, a floor below me, Rinawne tried to commune with my peculiar visitor. I realised that despite my best intentions, I wasn’t remaining as impartial and sensible about Nytethorne as I’d so smugly thought. My muse? Ha! Where was this higher feeling my teacher had spoken of so long ago? I didn’t want to be this har who fell into love stupidly, as if unable to avoid bottomless pits along the path of his life. I’d learned these passions led only to disruption and misery. When I fell, I fell fully, headfirst, heedless of danger or consequence. These passions, when they take a hold, have a life of their own and will not be denied. They put their hands over their ears and sing loudly to themselves to drown out the voice of reason. And now I could feel this creeping up on me, and my sanity stood like a horrified bystander, watching the inevitable collision draw close.
Rinawne left early, around one, because of the fairly long ride ahead of us the next day. I went to bed after clearing the kitchen, which didn’t take long. By half one I was asleep. By quarter to two, I was wide awake, sitting up in my bed, my heart pounding as if I’d been running. The air was still and watchful around me. I got out of bed and faced the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
I knew it was time. The tower didn’t speak to me; it didn’t have to. In the stairwell, there was an underlying calm to the air, yet also a subtle nuance of challenge. The light was bluish, the narrow windows channelling starlight. The bathroom door stood ajar. There was no sound but the ticking of the clocks, which in themselves created a strange orchestra. All sound from outside was muted. She was there, waiting for me.
I pushed open the door, which creaked alarmingly loudly, not a single creak but a series of small ones. I heard a sigh that swept around the room like steam. She was lying in the bath.
I approached, my breath stilled. All I could see was the back of her head and the dark water. She had cut her wrists, of course. The image was in black and white, but then there were splashes of dark crimson within it – the water itself remaining like ink. A smudge of red upon her pale shoulder. A few scarlet spots on the black and white tiles of the floor, and there the blade she’d used, with a rime of ruby along its cutting edge. The clocks ticked on, marking the hour of her passing. As she’d sunk from life, so her breath had matched the rhythm of the clocks, but becoming slower as they had not.
I looked into her face – her head had drooped onto
her right shoulder. She had been lovely, as I thought. What had driven her to this? The answer was of course the answer to everything, or at least part of it. Then a whisper came to me, and I saw in fact that her lips were moving.
‘I don’t want to stay here.’
I wondered why she’d been held, in this moment between life and death. Had she done this to herself, or had some other force inflicted it upon her? I knelt beside the bath, my knees in her blood. ‘If I can help you,’ I murmured, ‘I will.’
She said nothing more for some moments, and I wondered whether I’d heard all I was going to hear, but then she sighed again. ‘Cut it,’ she whispered. ‘Cut me free.’
‘Cut what?’
‘The cord of time.’
I knew this was my time, and whatever suffering she’d endured had led to this moment, me kneeling beside her in this room of red and black and white. ‘Speak to me,’ I said. ‘In order to free you, I need to know about the past. Can you tell me what I need to know?’
Her lips trembled, but her head did not lift nor her eyes open. ‘Cut it... Can’t speak here in this midden... Don’t want to...’
I had to steel myself, because only a heartless torturer could do this without flinching. ‘You must tell me... Who are you?’
For a moment there was only the sounds of the clocks, and her shallow breath, which filled the whole room, felt rather than heard. Then: ‘Arianne.’ The beautiful word was horrible coming from that broken body.
‘Arianne, I am Ysobi. Why did you do this to yourself?’
There was a distant echo of sad laughter – hers, although it did not derive from what was left of her in the bath. And yet the voice, when it came, was stronger. It appeared to emerge from what lay in the bath, and was her voice, yet the flesh did not shape the words, it was merely a conduit. ‘Why does anyone? Certainly not because I am happy and my life full of joy.’
‘Do you live at Meadow Mynd?’
‘Not any more. I did. Now I am here, and now it is over. But I’m trapped. Cut it! Cut it!’