‘Close your eyes,’ Alene commanded.
‘Soulweaver …’ said Feyt.
‘Hush,’ Alene said. Ember obeyed and sensed fingers over her forehead. They did not touch her more than twice, and then very lightly. The touch seemed to open a hole in Ember’s head and she experienced the remarkable sensation of air being sucked out of her skull.
She slept and woke and slept again. For a while, rather frighteningly, she had her eyes open but could see nothing. She was blind in both eyes again, but at least there was no pain. She slipped into unconsciousness, and when she woke she could see out of her good eye and felt ravenous. Sliding her feet into silken slippers and drawing on her robe, she opened her chamber door and entered the reception area of the apartment.
Alene and the two myrmidons were standing by the open terrace doors with their backs to her. Beyond them, the citadel lay bathed in the pink and gold sunlight of the afternoon.
‘You must tell her, soulweaver,’ Feyt urged.
‘You have slept long, Ember,’ Alene said, without turning.
Feyt swung round quickly. ‘By the Horn, you move like a feinna, Ember!’
Ember wondered what they had been talking about. Coralyn of Iridom, judging from their grim expressions. Or maybe Alene had been to see Tarsin and had been turned away again.
‘I feel fine,’ Ember said. ‘It must have been some sort of virus. But I am starving.’
‘No wonder. You have been deeply asleep since yesterday morning. I will get you some food.’ Tareed hurried away.
Ember stared after her. She had slept the best part of two days! Well, she must have needed it because she felt wonderful now.
‘I have bad news,’ Alene said, turning now to face Ember. Her eyes looked tired and there were dark circles under them. Her hair seemed limp and her movements listless. ‘I am afraid we will not be able to get you away before Coralyn returns from her hunt. That means you will have to see her. But do not be afraid of being discovered as a stranger, for palace talk suggests Coralyn has it in her mind to be immortalised in visioncloth.’
‘Ridiculous!’ Feyt snapped. ‘Visionweavers do not weave for individual glory, nor can their visions be paid for as if they were mere loaves of baked bread. Visionweavers serve the glory of the Song with their gift.’
Tareed had returned with bread and some bowls of food on a tray. As she set them out on a small table, she said pacifically, ‘Perhaps if Ember tells the wretched woman she will weave her image, she’ll be permitted to leave.’
‘More likely it will be the opposite,’ Alene said heavily. ‘She will have to stay until she produces the visioncloth.’
There was a knock at the door and Ember pulled on her veil automatically. At a nod from Alene, Feyt opened it to admit the green-eyed Bleyd. He had been in and out several times and, each time, it seemed to Ember, his eyes sought hers specifically and more frequently. Fearing what this might indicate, she made no attempt to remove the veil when he came, and avoided speaking to him except when he forced it by directing a question to her.
‘I am glad you have come, Bleyd,’ Alene greeted him now. ‘You are being careful of the mermod?’
‘Since you warned me that you had dreamed of danger to him. But I wish you could say from which quarter the danger will come; though I can guess whose hand is behind it.’
‘I have no idea how the danger will manifest itself, nor who is behind it. That is why you must be doubly on your guard. Expect danger from anyone and everyone.’
‘Who else would want the mermod dead, but Coralyn?’ Bleyd asked sceptically.
Alene’s mouth took on a severe shape. ‘I warn you again not to be certain where there is no certainty, lest the danger I wove comes home to roost in tragedy. You must not let him go out without you.’
‘Stopping him is easier said than done,’ Bleyd said dourly, already moving towards the door.
‘Perhaps I should speak with him.’
‘You said he should not come here.’
‘I know. I wanted people not to associate him with Darkfall, but it was a foolish notion. Bring him to me as soon as possible. I must impress the danger upon him.’
‘Very well,’ Bleyd said. ‘What of the visionweaver?’ His voice softened revealingly, though he did not look at Ember.
‘I think Tarsin might let her go, if Coralyn were not determined to have a visionweaving of herself,’ Alene said.
Bleyd looked grimly amused. ‘She would. Well, let me know if you want my help. I must go.’ He hesitated. ‘Get some rest, Alene, you are looking tired.’ As he turned to leave, his eyes searched for and found Ember. She remained as she was, half turned away in her seat so that he would think she was staring out the window. Something in her was repelled by the admiration in his eyes. She found her appetite had vanished when he had gone.
‘Now,’ Alene said. ‘We must think how to deal with Coralyn where you are concerned. I think it will be best if you go to her in her apartment, because if she comes here, we will have to wait until she chooses to leave. And, Ember, you must appear to be frail and breathless so it is clear you are very weak …’
‘Pity she didn’t see me the other morning when I fainted. She would have thought I was dying,’ Ember murmured.
Alene did not respond. Bleyd was right, Ember reflected. The older woman looked drawn and exhausted.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, wondering if the soulweaver’s attempts to drain her fever pain had so drained her face of animation.
‘I am … what I am. But I thank you for your concern. I was trying to say that if we can convince Coralyn that you are … exceedingly ill and incapable of visioning because of it, you may be permitted to leave.’
Her voice trailed off and her silverblind eyes glimmered with some emotion Ember could not discern.
‘I have been thinking of something,’ Ember said slowly. ‘That blonde girl I dreamed about. I don’t think she was a myrmidon.’
The three women looked at her inquiringly.
‘I mean, I think she might be a stranger,’ Ember said, being more specific.
‘What! Another one?’ Feyt cried.
‘What makes you think so?’ Alene asked.
‘She called out in the dream, but her accent was wrong. I didn’t think of it at the time, but I am sure it belonged to my world.’
‘How can you be sure what accent belongs to your world when you do not remember who you are?’ Feyt asked.
‘I don’t know. But I think she was wearing a wristwatch as well.’
‘A what?’ Feyt asked.
‘It is a thing strangers use in their world to mark the passing of the time instead of the shadowcasters or time-candles we use,’ Tareed said eagerly. ‘Many of the strangers who came had them. They even have one of them in the archives on Darkfall, the Scroll of Strangers says.’
‘But another stranger? Even in the days when strangers came more frequently, they did not come simultaneously. Is the portal now to release any number of strangers? How will we find them all …’
‘Be calm, Feyt. Ember spoke of one other stranger and, even then, her dream might be false.’
‘I dreamed of Asa before I saw him,’ Ember pointed out with some asperity.
‘Probably you are experiencing soulweaving tendencies. That is not so unique an ability here, and others of your world developed these tendencies here, though they had no such ability in their own world. Besides, you have learned enough of our world to know that soulwoven dreams are often unreliable. You cannot direct the course of your life by visions except if you are a Darkfall soulweaver and can discern what is real. And even then it is dangerous to live by weavings alone, for the pattern of the future is never truly fixed.’
‘Do you remember where the blonde girl was?’ Tareed asked.
‘Tar …’ Feyt said in a warning tone.
‘Do you not see what it could mean, Alene; Ember looking like Shenavyre and this other stranger? What if the other stranger is the one? The Unraveller!’
>
‘Oh, Tar. Is every stranger now to be the Unraveller? Do you know how many strangers have come through the portal these long years since Lanalor made a pact with the Chaos spirit?’
Tareed hung her head. ‘Perhaps the Unraveller will never come.’
‘My dear Tareed, do not lose hope. It is all that keeps us. But restrain your imagination.’ Tareed made no response and Alene sighed, looking wearier than ever. ‘Just in case another stranger did come, Feyt, we should perhaps know the details of Ember’s dream.’
Feyt nodded without enthusiasm.
Ember tried to recall the blonde girl clearly. ‘She was on a grassy cliff. It was very high and there was smoke coming from somewhere. A lot of smoke. There were people fighting somewhere nearby. The girl was watching someone or maybe waiting to meet somebody, then she cried something out.’ She frowned with the effort of recall. ‘A name … Solomon, Sol? Then someone came and fought with her and forced her back until she fell from the cliff.’
‘Those names are not Keltan, nor can it be Ramidan you saw. There are no grassy cliffs here,’ Feyt said.
‘It may be another island,’ said Alene.
Feyt said crisply, ‘Let us narrow the possibilities, then. It cannot have been Acantha if the cliff was green. Nor Fomhika for they have no such cliffs. Maybe it was Vespi. There are a couple of high cliffs out past the sandsea, but there would not be much grass on them.’
‘Myrmidor,’ Tareed suggested. ‘There are lowish cliffs on the southernmost parts of the island, and green hills. And Ember said the girl she saw wore myrmidon attire. Even if she was not a myrmidon, where else would she get such clothing but on Myrmidor?’
Ember said doubtfully, ‘Her hair was different.’
Tareed shrugged. ‘A myrmidon does not bind her hair at once. She may have just completed her rhiad.’
‘There are high cliffs and stony waters such as you describe on the misty isle,’ Alene said dreamily. ‘But there could be no fighting there.’
‘I have just thought,’ Tareed remembered suddenly, ‘Ember said she saw the girl fall from a cliff. If it was as high as all that, she would be dead, stranger or no, would she not?’
Shocked, Ember realised this was true and wondered how she had managed not to absorb that.
Alene laid her thin fingers lightly over Ember’s hands. ‘Perhaps the dream was true and what you saw is simply long past. That would make more sense than that another stranger came at once. Or, it may be a futureweaving, in which case we may be able to help this girl before the fall you visioned comes to pass. Do not trouble yourself about it now. When you get to Darkfall, my sisters will be able to tell you whether the dream was true, and what it meant. Perhaps they can even pinpoint the time frame. In the meantime Feyt will make enquiries just in case.’
‘We could contact the Shadowman and ask him to send word out to the other islands,’ Tareed said.
Alene gave her a blazing look. ‘You will have no dealings with the Shadowman.’
‘We need him and his network, Alene, especially now,’ Feyt said mildly. ‘He is not evil.’
‘He is not, but he should not do his deeds in Darkfall’s name. What he does is against all we believe – especially violent retaliation. We have no need of a hidden army, the mere rumour of which causes the common folk to fear and doubt us more than they do already. Apart from anything else, it could be argued that we were breaking the Gia Directive by gathering a force greater than is permitted for any one sept,’ Alene said.
‘What of Iridom’s training camps?’ Feyt snapped. ‘Everyone knows she has twenty times the number permitted by the Gia Directive.’
‘Coralyn does not care what laws she breaks. I do. I will speak no more of the Shadowman. Have you heard from Duran?’
‘No,’ Feyt said tightly. ‘But I did hear the same news Duran sent from a different source. Iridom is definitely refusing to supply atar for our javelins. They are claiming that sources of some vital ingredient for the metal are exhausted. Speaking of Revel, you know she is due in the citadel again in these next few days. We should keep that in mind in case we need to spirit Ember off Ramidan …’
‘It may come to that,’ Alene sighed. She and Feyt began to discuss what the ban on atar might mean.
Ember went out on to the terrace and looked out over the sea. The Keltan sun was hidden by thick drifting banks of cloud so convoluted that they looked like yet another world in the sky. The shadows unravelled and a beam of sunlight fell on the waves, gilding them. Ember shivered with a feeling of deja vu.
When she came back inside, Feyt had gone and Tareed had begun to sweep the floor. The soulweaver was busy with her little piles of herbs, mixing them and packing them to create cloth infusions that reminded Ember of makeshift teabags. Alene gave these to many of the people who visited her.
Drawing near, Ember was again struck by the older woman’s pallor. On impulse, she asked if they could go for a walk in the palace grounds.
‘We would not have to go far. I can see gardens from up here and I’ve never seen anyone in them. Even if someone does come, you will be with me so nothing will happen.’
Alene smiled wearily. ‘You put a great deal of faith in a frail vessel, Ember. I do not think …’ She stopped and her mouth seemed to take on a sad shape. ‘Life is too short to be trapped inside so long.’
Ember frowned. ‘Is that a yes?’
Alene nodded. ‘Since you are to see Coralyn, it cannot matter so much if you are seen outside the apartment. And no one will expect it so you will have no watchers. But I will not go out. Tar, take Ember to the soulweaver’s garden.’
The myrmidon looked uncomfortable. ‘My apologies, soulweaver, but it is more than my life is worth to leave you alone. Feyt said …’
‘Feyt!’ Alene tapped her foot in exasperation. ‘Well, perhaps I could do with some fresh air myself. In the unlikely event that we come upon anyone at this time of day, we will pretend you are convalescent, Ember, and I will hold your arm. Tareed shall guard us both.’
After locking the apartment, they went slowly along the halls and down stairs until they came to a door leading outside. Tareed led the way looking fierce and carrying her javelin, though they did not see a single soul. Finally Ember, walking arm in arm with the soulweaver to preserve the fiction that she was ill and weak, asked why the grounds were so empty.
‘This is the time of day when people in the palace organise themselves for the evening entertainments. Servants are busy preparing meals or rooms for the festivities, or helping their master or mistress to get ready.’
Ember thought of something she had been meaning to ask for some time. ‘I hope it doesn’t upset you to talk about it, but … you don’t seem blind at all to me. Not like I’m blind in one eye. If I didn’t know you were blind, I would never guess it to see you walking about so confidently.’
‘That is because silverblindness is not lack of sight in the ordinary sense. In fact to call it blindness of any kind is misleading, but we soulweavers are creatures of long habit and do not like to change things, especially things begun by Lanalor. Though I sometimes doubt he would have wanted us to be so slavish to his dictates as we have been. To understand silverblindness it is better to concentrate on the silver part of the term, for that is the main physical difference between it and ordinary blindness. Of course, in your case, you are ordinarily blind but your blind eye shows silver as if you were silverblind.’
‘How do you become silverblind?’
‘When a woman becomes a soulweaver, she goes through the Darkfall process. I have heard Tar mention it to you. I am not permitted to speak of what it involves, but I can tell you that we lose our ordinary sight in order to open the eyes of our mind.’
‘I’ve seen you walk around a chair that was moved as if you saw it.’
‘That is why it is misleading to call it blindness. There is, you see, more than one way to see the world. The eyes of the mind opened by the Darkfall process can see the real world, too
, only not as you see it with physical sight. There are not really words to describe what I see, but if you think of all life as giving off a force, then I do not see the chair, but I see its force. It may be easier to think of it as heat. I feel the heat of things, and all things give off different heats.’
‘Is that how you know someone is coming to the door? You feel the heat through the door?’
Alene smiled. ‘If the person’s aura is strong enough and I am paying attention.’
Ember fastened on the familiar word. ‘There are people in my world who say they can see auras. Is it the same thing? Colours around a person?’
‘Again, heat would be a better analogy than colour because it does not rely on vision. But yes, it forms a shape. In fact, a person can leave a trace of their aura after they have gone. Right now, we are passing a bench where a man sat recently dreaming of a woman who belongs to another man. He hungers for her greatly and thinks of killing the other man.’ She sighed. ‘This is a decadent place, and there is little brightness to lift it from its darkness. The world falls deeper and deeper into shadow and, like Tar, my hope waxes thin.’
Tareed had stopped just ahead, beside an arched opening in a high wall grown over with a leafy creeper sprouting tiny pale flowers. Beyond the arch was a small, exquisite garden. High hedges and flowering shrubs all around the inside of the walls gave the illusion that it was a clearing in a great forest. If it had not been so obviously cultivated, it would have reminded Ember of the clearing in her recurring dream. Several enormous veswood trees grew up the far end, one high enough to top the wall, casting dappled shade over the bank of a small brook. There was a bench in the shade beneath it, half hidden behind a broad bank of shrubbery that waved lissom tendrils at the slightest breath of wind. Clumps of little purple flowers at the very edge of the water exuded a sweet heavy perfume, and Ember stepped carefully over them, following Alene to the bench. Tareed had remained at the gate.
Kneeling down, Ember peered into the brook at the flat, tigerish-hued stones. ‘Are there any fish?’
‘Waterflyts we name them,’ Alene corrected gently.