Realm Of Light Part 33

Beva's cold presence flowed down through his body, chilling him, then it seemed to vanish.

Caelan waited, but nothing else happened. Would he know when Beva took over his soul? Would he ever be aware of it?

Opening his eyes after a moment, Caelan blinked and once again found himself in the grove of trees. The wind had stopped blowing, and there was only silence. No life, no movement, no sound.

A trail stretched before him. Without knowing why, he followed it to the bank of a stream.

The water flowed swift and deep. If he crossed it, he would have to swim.

While he hesitated, he heard a sound behind him.

It was only one of the trees swaying.

Caelan relaxed, then frowned and looked at the tree again. It moved, its branches rustling and swaying, but no wind blew.

He turned around to face it, conscious of the water at his back, as though to corner him.

"You are not in danger," a voice said to him.

It sounded familiar, but he could not place it.

He looked around wildly, but saw no one.

More of the trees were moving now. They seemed to close in on him, yet they did not uproot themselves from the earth. He felt ripples and currents of energy in the air. The air s.h.i.+mmered as though with a rainbow.

"Your father's spirit is only memory, Caelan," the voice said. "Beva is no longer flesh. He cannot hurt you. He cannot possess you. Only his memories remain. Only his intentions. Only his knowledge. That is all. His spirit believes it has redeemed you into itself and is content. Beva will no longer haunt your dreams. Peace can be restored."

Caelan looked around again, unable to tell where the voice was coming from. "I don't understand," he said.

"In time, more wisdom will come to you. For now, we thank you for having made peace with your father. There can be harmony once more within the spirit world."

"Am I in the spirit world now?"

"No. You are between."

Caelan frowned, struggling to understand. "Have I much more to learn?"

"Much."

"How will I learn? What am I to do?"

"Live," the voice said. "Follow your path of life. Stay in the truth."

Caelan stared at the trees and felt like a child talking to some- one very old and very wise. Was he in the presence of the G.o.ds of light?

"No, Caelan. Calm your thoughts. It is time for you to return."

"How?" he asked eagerly. "Don't I end severance?" severance?"

"You are beyond your own reach," the voice replied. "You cannot return from this grove by yourself. Even your gifts are not that powerful. Beva drew you here. Now we must send you back."

Caelan lifted his chin, trying to be accepting, although his mind was chaotic with thoughts and questions. "What must I do?"

"Enter the water," the voice said. "Do not fear it. It is warm and the current is gentle. Drink the water, then let yourself slip beneath the surface."

Caelan waited a moment, then frowned. "Is that all?"

"Be at peace," the voice replied. "You have done well. Trust in your return."

He looked at the stream flowing past him. The water was clear and clean. He could not see the bottom. It made no sense, but he did as he was told.

Sliding into the water, he found it warm and pleasant as the voice had said it would be. The current was strong, however, and he clung instinctively to the bank, resisting it.

But after a moment, he realized what he was doing was futile. There had been no explanation, but did he need one here where obviously nothing was as it seemed? Why did he care where the current took him, as long as it was back to where he belonged?

He lowered his face to the water and sipped it. The taste was pure. Realizing he was thirsty, he drank long and deeply, then released the bank and allowed the current to carry him along. He thought of trust. He thought of faith. Words he had sworn by all his life without ever having to really put them to the test. But no matter how strong he was, no matter how brave, he was still only a man. He could not do everything himself.

"Another lesson," he murmured wryly to himself.

After a moment, he drew in a deep breath and slid below the surface.

Elandra waited for two hours, while night closed around the palace and servants came on silent feet to light the lamps. The guards changed, and still she heard no sound from within her father's room. She paced slowly around the antechamber while the minutes dragged by. What could Caelan be doing? What was taking so long?

Again and again she was filled with the urge to rush inside, but she restrained herself. She had given her promise to Caelan. She would keep it.

Her father's jinja jinja was as restless as she. It scratched incessantly at the doors, no matter how many times she shooed it away. was as restless as she. It scratched incessantly at the doors, no matter how many times she shooed it away.

"You must be still," she told it. "Hush. No noise."

The jinja jinja tilted its small green face up to hers and sighed. "I guard sleep. I watch." tilted its small green face up to hers and sighed. "I guard sleep. I watch."

"Yes, but you must do so out here."

The jinja jinja shook its head fretfully. "Too far away. No good." shook its head fretfully. "Too far away. No good."

She knew better than to touch it. "You must be patient. Soon you can go back inside, but not now."

The jinja jinja sighed heavily and sank down on its haunches by the door. sighed heavily and sank down on its haunches by the door.

Satisfied, Elandra turned and went to gaze out the window. The rain had stopped, and the night lay heavy and still save for the sound of water running through the stone gutters. In the distance she could hear the hunting cough of panthers and the shrill death screams of their prey.

The sound of the opening door made her whirl around in relief.

But it was not Caelan who emerged. Instead, she saw the jinja jinja darting inside. darting inside.

"No!"

Exasperated, she ran after it, but the jinja jinja was too quick. In a rapid blur of unnatural speed, it darted here and there around the room, finally coming to a halt at the foot of Albain's bed. The lamp had burned out. Elandra could see only by the light that shone inside from behind her. was too quick. In a rapid blur of unnatural speed, it darted here and there around the room, finally coming to a halt at the foot of Albain's bed. The lamp had burned out. Elandra could see only by the light that shone inside from behind her.

She listened a moment, gazing about. Her father lay propped up on his tall pillows. His head had fallen over to one side. She did not see Caelan.

Hesitating, she opened the door wider, allowing more light inside. She even looked behind the door. Caelan was not there.

Her hand went to her throat in nameless fear. She looked at the jinja. jinja. "Is it safe?" she whispered. "Is it safe?" she whispered.

The jinja jinja shook itself the way a dog shakes water from its coat. "Safe. No magic. No bad." shook itself the way a dog shakes water from its coat. "Safe. No magic. No bad."

She could not make herself believe it. Picking up a lamp from the antechamber, she went into the room and closed the door firmly after her. She went first to her father.

He lay so quiet and still she feared he had died. But when she touched his hand, it felt warm with life. Some color had returned to his cheeks, and she realized he was breathing normally, with none of the rasping struggle of before.

Hope made her draw in a sharp breath. She opened his sleeping s.h.i.+rt and ran her fingertips delicately across his side. Much of the bruising had faded. His ribs felt whole beneath her touch.

Albain stirred slightly, frowning, and she drew the covers higher, smoothing them and stroking his forehead. He no longer had fever. Clearly he lay in a healing sleep, already on the mend. The miracle she had asked for had been achieved.

Tears stung her eyes, welling up through her lashes. She blinked, and twin tears ran down her cheeks. Grateful, she sank to her knees beside him and clung to his hand.

"Oh, Father," she whispered through her tears of relief. "Oh, Father."

Chapter Twenty-One.

Caelan did not return. No one had seen him. No one could explain how he had left Albain's chamber without being seen.

Frustrated and worried, Elandra retired to her apartments. By lamplight she undressed herself, wary of even the servants. She put her knife beneath her pillow and stretched out beneath the soft curtains of insect netting.

Her dreams were troubled and restless. She moaned and tossed in the humid darkness; then a sound close by awakened her. Opening her eyes, she found herself dazzled by lamplight s.h.i.+ning over her. a shadowy silhouette stood by her bedside, holding the lamp aloft.

Elandra gasped and sat bolt upright with one hand on the knife under her pillow and the other gripping her jewel pouch.

"Begone from me," she said.

Her voice sounded quivery and afraid, not strong like she wanted it to be.

The figure lowered the lamp until her face was also illuminated. As she saw the features of the woman standing beside her, Elandra's fear was replaced by anger.

She flung aside the insect netting and scrambled out of bed. Dressed in shapeless linen that kept slipping off one shoulder, her hair flowing around her like a veil, she glared at her visitor.

"You pick a poor time to come calling," she said to the woman who had borne her. "Or do you always prowl in other people's rooms in the middle of the night?"

Her mother glared back, looking haughty and regal in robes of dark green. "Is that all the greeting you will give me? Is there no respect in you?"

"Do you deserve more?"

"Do you know who I am, Elandra?"

Elandra drew in a sharp, angry breath, but her mother raised her hand.

"I have the right to address you by your name, whether you wish it or not."

Slowly Elandra mastered her anger, controlled it. Her mother was correct, but she did not have to like it.

"Do you know who I am?" her mother repeated.

"Your name is Iaris," Elandra said coldly. "You gave me birth."

"I am your mother."

Elandra swallowed. As a child she had dreamed of her mother, longed for her mother. Now all she felt was rage and such pent-up resentment she thought she might explode. Again, using all that the Penestricans had taught her, she struggled to control herself.

"Yes," she said finally, "you are my mother."

Iaris waited a moment. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What should I add?"

"A word of greeting. A smile. Perhaps a remark expressing your feelings at our reunion."

"Is that what this is?" Elandra asked. "A reunion? The word implies that there was a previous relations.h.i.+p, does it not? I don't recall one."

Iaris's nostrils flared. Even in middle age, she was beautiful. Her cheekbones had a sharp, sculpted quality that would last all her life. Her eyes were tilted ever so slightly at the corners, like Elandra's. Their color was exotic, compelling. Her thick lashes swept down and up as her gaze locked again on Elandra.

"So it is to be like that," she said.

"Yes," Elandra said flatly. "It is to be like that."

Iaris frowned. "I tried to speak to you earlier. You refused me. Now we must talk."

"It can wait until morning."

"No, this privacy is better."

"I need my rest," Elandra said.

"You owe me this audience," Iaris told her.

Elandra shot her an angry look and raised her brows. She said nothing, but Iaris refused to be stared down.

"I am Lady Pier," she said harshly. "You owe me audience."

Surprised, Elandra studied her for a moment; then she gestured at the nearby chairs.

They sat in the gloom, facing each other like civilized ladies, but there was something unreal about the hour of night, the quiet in the room, the utter privacy. Elandra wondered if her guards at the door had gone to sleep, to allow Iaris her surrept.i.tious entry. Could anyone come and go as they pleased in this palace? It did not used to be so.