You Can't Go Home Again
Episode 2 of Van Raighan's Last Stand
A Story of the Second Realm
By R.J. Davnall
Copyright 2012 R. J. Davnall
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The Second Realm
1-1: I Can See Clearly Now
https://itsthefuturestupid.blogspot.com/
Contents
You Can't Go Home Again
About the Author
Van Raighan’s Last Stand
2. You Can't Go Home Again
Ceiling. Dora lay in bed, fighting to remember that the wooden planks in front of her were above her. Since waking up, she'd been grasping for the word for it. Ceiling. Had it always been this hard navigating the First Realm? Reaching back through a memory usually crystal-clear and knife-sharp, she found everything out of order. She could clearly see her bedroom in Federas, but she couldn't work out which surface was the top - ceiling! - of the room.
Whichever way up the memory was supposed to be, this room was not hers. She rolled onto her side, resisting the instinct that what she actually did was spin the room around herself. A brown rug covered most of the floor, leaving a strip of uninviting, bare floorboards around the edges. The narrow oak wardrobe at the foot of the bed menaced the doorway, and the rest of the room was austere, though far from primitive.
Oddly, she wasn't surprised to find herself in Nursim. Jumbled though her memory was, she remembered stumbling down the hillside towards the town without confusion. The driving rain, the warmth of Rel's hand in hers, the gut-wrenching gasp when they almost fell into a quarry lake, were so clear she shivered in recollection.
Dora yelped in alarm. Rel stood in the doorway, looking through the room. Was he staring out the window? The tickle of wool made her suddenly conscious that beneath the blankets, she was naked, her shift hung to dry from the front of the wardrobe. Automatically, she curled up, her voice pinched to a squeak by shock. The sheet pulled free at the bottom of the bed and a cold draft clawed at her leg.
She gasped, and suddenly logic snapped back into place. Rel's odd pose, one fist raised in front of his face - he was about to knock. On the door. Which was closed, so he couldn't see her. For that matter, why had she thought she could see him? The door was the same stout, polished wood as the rest of the furniture, as opaque as anything else she'd ever seen.
Rel's knock caught her just as she convinced herself he had been an uncomfortable hallucination, provoking another yelp. His voice was muffled through the door, "Dora, are you alright?"
She cleared her throat and called, "Not decent! Just a moment."
Mercifully, her shift was dry as she pulled it roughly over her head. Hair already mussed from the pillow found new and irritating ways to play haystack, and Dora dragged her fingers through it with a hissed curse. She fought her way into dress and stockings with similar vigour, shaking off the morning's strange start by sheer force of ire.
Reverence replaced anger as she lifted her uniform rope belt from the hook on the back of the door, wrapped it loosely around her waist, and tied it through the stylised Four Knot of the buckle. She settled it pulled slightly to one side across her hips and sat in front of the mirror. Tugging again, uselessly, at her hair, she called, "Come in!"
The latch clunked against its bolt and Dora shot her reflection an irritated glance. So much for putting a good face on things. She unlocked the door and opened it.
Small consolation, but Rel didn't look much better than she had in the mirror. His eyes narrowed as daylight struck him, and he put a hand to his head. His shirt was rumpled, his scowl deeply lined.
Still squinting, he said, "Are you alright? You look like hell."
"I'm fine." Dora turned and stalked back to her chair.
"The Sheriff wants to speak to us. Boy said it's urgent. We'd better go."
Dora glared at him as she caught herself, half-way between seated and standing. In Federas, she could take a minute to sort her hair before going to meet Sheriff Pollack's request, but here in Nursim courtesy at least demanded a quicker response. And the quicker she saw to it, the sooner she could get home.
She pushed to her feet and glanced out through the window. Cold fogged the glass with condensation, but bright blue sky promised no rain to settle her hair down. Well, the Sheriff would just have to deal with her, haystack on her head or no. She stomped her feet into her boots and grimaced at the hint of dampness. Rel stepped diplomatically out of her way as she strode out onto the inn's dim landing and headed for the stairs.
The common room's only occupants were a maid mopping the floor and a boy jiggling anxiously from one foot to the other by the door. He straightened at the sight of Dora, his face suddenly nervous. She forced herself to take a deep breath and put a hand up to massage the frown from her face. "Where's the Sheriff?"
"At the Warding Hall, miss." The boy bit his lip and looked at the floor, a long fringe of brown curls dropping across his face.
"Not his office?"
"No, miss." He looked up again, not quite meeting her eyes, "I can show you the way, if..."
Dora smiled, surprised at how good it felt, "I think I can remember. What's your name?"
"Tol, miss." His face brightened and he stole a glance behind himself, towards the door.
"Well, Tol, if the Sheriff didn't ask you to come back with us, I suppose he must have thought you had other important things to be doing, mustn't he?" She took a step towards him and patted him on the shoulder. He nodded eagerly. Dora finished, "Go on then. Leave the trouble to the grown-ups."
Tol was out of the inn in a flash, only the barest of nods for courtesy. Behind Dora, Rel said, "What if the Sheriff did want him?"
She turned, "Rel, the poor boy was terrified. I don't know what's at the Warding Hall, but... you don't think Van Raighan...?"
Rel's frown darkened a few shades, and Dora found she couldn't quite place the result. She felt herself frown in response. Usually Rel was an open book to her. He said, "Van Raighan's secure back home."
"And the town is safe?"
"It was when I left it. Come on, we'd better go." He walked past her and opened the door. The hinges gave the slightest of creaks. Unease coiling in the pit of her stomach, Dora followed. If something had happened to Nursim's Stable Rods, having extra Gifted on hand would be exactly what the town needed, and it could be days before they were free to return to Federas.
The Warding Hall was where she remembered it being, even through her fogged memory. After all, it wasn't as if you could just pick up tons of building and move them around. It did look different, though. For a moment, Dora thought the walls might be sagging, but the impression passed as they walked into the building's shadow.
A man stood by the door of the Hall, arms folded across his slender chest. A cudgel dangling from his belt identified him as at least a guardsman; the way he stepped forward, reaching out a hand to shake hers, made him the Sheriff. Dora returned a stiff nod.
He squinted at her slightly. "Dora, right? I'm Jadil, do you remember me?"
He was naggingly familiar, but she couldn't place him. Not that that said much this morning. He could be her brother for all she knew, though that wouldn't explain why he wasn't releasing her hand. She pulled it back a little too forcefully, and couldn't keep an accompanying sharpness from her voice as she said, "Should I?"
Jadil's already-long face fell. "I was just starting in the guard when you were here training. I suppose we didn't have very much to do with one another."
Rel cleared his throat. Dora channelled her lingering irritation into spitting hi
m with her best glare - he frowned in... what? Again, she couldn't quite place it. Surprise? Alarm? She turned back to the Sheriff. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm a little out of sorts this morning." She managed a smile, "Tol said you needed us urgently?"
Jadil nodded. "I'm not sure urgent was quite the right word, but best it's sorted sooner than later. Tawny's away in Federas or I wouldn't have imposed - you remember our Four Knot, at least?" He finished with a gentle smile that somehow became mournful on his gaunt cheeks.
Dora nodded, scrabbling for a memory. "She came by yesterday. I thought she was planning to be back here last night?" If she wasn't back, what had kept her away? Tawny's competence was above question, but with Van Raighan in the town, even in custody, Dora found she couldn't put her fears aside.
"So she said, but she's not back yet. I know better than to ask after her business, though, and yours." Jadil paused, waiting for Dora's nod. "Anyway, sometime after you came in last night, we had a Wilder walk into town. She rousted me out of bed claiming to be a Gift-Giver, but with Tawny away we've no way to check and you were both dead to the world. She agreed to spend the night in custody."
"You don't have a Clearseer?" Rel broke in.
"Not for a long time." The Sheriff glared at Rel briefly before turning back to Dora. "Anyway, she's inside. Would you do the honours?"
Dora looked from Jadil to the growing thundercloud on Rel's face. "Better to let Rel, Sheriff. Clearsight's quicker than anything I can do."
Jadil glanced dubiously at Rel. "He's not... under censure?"
Dora chuckled. "Not formally. He did no more than take a foolish risk." She watched Rel's eyebrows shoot up, satisfied that he was suitably chastened. "Shall we?"
She led the two men into the Warding Hall. Inside, the construction was familiar; two rows of four pillars making an aisle that led to the dais holding the Stable Rods. One of the Rods spun slowly in its mount as it absorbed the strain of a powerful Wilder's presence.
The powerful Wilder responsible dangled from a hook set eight feet up the pillar nearest the door, her wrists cuffed and her arms pulled high above her head. She was tall enough to stand, but the night had clearly taken its toll; she leaned back against the pillar slightly, dangling from her cuffs. A faint sheen of sweat on her brow caught the light, and Dora was struck by the intensity of the Wilder's gaze. Her hair, a rich, glossy red, was pulled back into a high ponytail and fastened with a black ribbon.
Just the kind of hair Dora would have killed for.
Rel said, "If she walked clear into town, she should be on the second pillar, Sheriff. Facing the dais, not the door."
"She was cooperative..." Jadil was wringing his hands, Dora could hear it in his voice. The Wilder was still staring at her, ignoring the two men. She had clifftop-high cheekbones and a straight, sharp jaw. With the way her pose leant her forward, she put Dora in mind of a knife-blade, or a predator in the chase. Memory skittered away again as Dora grasped for it, but the Wilder looked familiar.
"Cooperation or no, it should be the second pillar. The cuffs aren't proof against Negation." Dora watched Rel's aura flare and his face tighten as he slipped into Clearsight. Almost immediately, he blinked and relaxed again, but Dora was too busy trying to remember if she could normally see an aura around him. For that matter, the Wilder threw off sparks towards the Stable Rods. The sparks struck a memory, one blessedly clear compared to the rest, and the nagging feeling of familiarity resolved into a remembered face amid a whirl of disorganised colour.
Rel said, "She's a Gift-Giver, alright." He rubbed his forehead, wincing briefly.
"She's the one who came to Federas with Tawny yesterday." Dora stepped past Rel and up to the Gift-Giver. "I don't