Belladonna (23 page)

"I painted him, Aunt Nadia," Sebastian said, obeying the command. "With her."

Nadia remained silent and frozen for a moment. Then she blinked with slow deliberation. "
Moonlight Lover."
She pondered for a moment. "You saw him in a dream?"

"A waking dream, yes, and never clearly enough for the details, which is why his face is in shadow. But I recognized the feel of him. Gave me quite a start when he came to the Den — especially after I learned he'd ended up here after fighting the Eater of the World."

Nadia's hand clenched on his arm before she regained control and released him. "Well. I'll still have Lee take a message to the island, but we'll wait until midday."

"Aunt Nadia." He'd made the decision, and he would stand by it. "I liked him well enough, but I'm not sure I trust him. I —"

He felt his face heat a little. "Sometimes I become aware of … things ... without actively trying to link with someone through dreams, Romantic daydreams, I guess you could call them, that slip in under my guard."

She blushed as she realized the implications of what he was saying. "Do you still ... ? You're
married,
Sebastian."

"I
know
that." He closed his eyes, trying to recapture the feeling that had washed through him, giving him the inspiration for the painting. "She's lonely, Aunt Nadia, and the romantic side of Glorianna's heart..."

"I know," Nadia said softly.

"After I met him, I started wondering if the inspiration for painting
him
as the fantasy lover had come from a yearning flowing in the currents of Light... or if it had come from something in the Dark."

Nadia's breath caught.

"There are things he didn't say last night, reasons he's looking for Glorianna that he didn't share. So I'm not sure I trust him.

But a person can't lie to the river. If it lets him reach the Island in the Mist, we'll know he's worthy of what he seeks.''

Nadia pressed her fingers against her eyes. Then she lowered her hands and sighed. "Should we tell Caitlin her brother was close by?"

He considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "There's no reason to tell her anything about Michael until we know if he survived."

"I'm sorry," Caitlin said as Lee gently pushed her hands aside and began picking up the broken pieces of cup and saucer. "I'm so sorry."

"It's just a bit of crockery, Caitlin Marie," he said.

"But it's your
mother's
bit of crockery."

He gave her a look that was friendly and exasperated. Not like a brother. Not quite. But not like the boys in Raven's Hill had looked at her either. He liked her, but he didn't want her, didn't expect anything from her. He was a friend. Just a friend.

The relief of that made her eyes fill with tears.

"Ah, don't go getting weepy over a broken dish," Lee said. "Especially when you did us a favor by breaking it."

Caitlin sniffled and blinked back tears.

"Do you think these are pretty?" Lee asked, holding up half the cup.

"No."

"Neither do we. And we're pretty sure Mother doesn't like them either, but she's developed a stubborn streak about using them as the everyday dishes. And since we're not company, we get stuck with them. We've been fairly subtle about it, but we've accidentally broken almost enough of these things for her to pack up what's left and start using the set of dishes we bought her as a wedding present when she and Jeb got married." He paused. "She was getting suspicious about the sudden clumsiness when someone besides herself washed the dishes, so you did us a favor since she can't accuse
you
of doing it on purpose."

"Still, they're your mother's dishes."

"We could pack them up and send them home with you."

"I don't want them." The words came out so fast and so emphatic that she startled them both. And it wasn't practical. There was no telling if anything had been saved from the fire. She should welcome being given a few dishes to help her and Aunt Brighid set up housekeeping again.

But she didn't want these dishes. Really, really didn't want them.

Lee grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking— and was maybe planning on how to give them to her at a time when she wouldn't be able to refuse.

Caitlin sniffed again. "Do you think breaking a dinner dish or two would be enough to get the rest sent up to the attic?"

"That might just be enough," Lee agreed. He dumped the pieces into the trash container, then fetched the broom and dustpan to clean up the rest.

They were sitting at the table, sharing a plate of sweet rolls and a pot of koffee, when Nadia walked back into the kitchen.

Something happened out there,
Caitlin thought, watching the older woman for a moment before glancing at Lee. Yes, he saw it, too, but he was understanding more.

"We pulled the sweet rolls out of the oven," Lee said. "They browned up a bit too much, but they're still good. Isn't Sebastian coming in?"

Nadia fetched a cup and poured koffee for herself. "He had to get back to the Den."

Lee took a sip of koffee and watched his mother. "I'll go to the island right after breakfast."

"I'm making soup for our midday meal," Nadia said. "Wait until later so you can take some to your sister."

Later. Ever since she'd arrived here yesterday, Nadia had been promising that they would send a message to Glorianna first thing in the morning because Glorianna would be able to explain things in a way Nadia could not. Now that promise was being bent, the message was being delayed. Why?

Because something happened out there.
Caitlin looked out the window at the garden.

She had been so young when her mother died; she didn't remember the death itself, but she remembered the feel of the people around her — the hushed voices,
the things that were said with nothing more than a look or within a silence.

That same feeling filled the kitchen now. Nadia and Lee knew something, but they weren't going to tell her. Not yet.

And they wouldn't tell her as long as she acted like a weepy child instead of a grown woman strong enough to face the world.

"Would you like some help making the soup?" Caitlin asked.

Nadia studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, I would."

S
anctuary. The song of it flowed through him, sweet and gentle, but with just enough spice to give the heart delight as well as peace. He wanted to walk the grounds and the gardens, wanted to sit on one of those little islands he'd spotted and twiddle on his whistle, letting the notes become part of whatever message was passed along by the water.

You're almost home.

The thought seemed to float on the air, seemed to slip into his body with every breath.
You're almost home.

He wasn't anywhere near the land of his birth. Which made him wonder what sort of answers he might get from the man now escorting him to the next stage of his journey.

He still wasn't sure Sebastian and Teaser weren't playing games with him. Oh, he couldn't deny that this part of the world was much stranger than anything he might have imagined, but how could people live as a people if they didn't know
where
they lived?

"Yoshani," he said hesitantly. "I was wondering if you know what a country is?"

"I know what a country is," Yoshani replied with a smile. "And I understand what a landscape is. There can be many landscapes in a single country — and there can be many countries in a single landscape."

Michael frowned. "That makes no sense."

"Which part? Both are true, depending on how one sees the world."

"They can't both be true. The world —"

"— is fluid. Ever-changing. A reflection of ourselves."

That thought wasn't comfortable — or comforting. Not after the things he'd seen lately.

"Which is why I am grateful daily that I can walk here," Yoshani added quietly. "That this place reflects a piece of my heart."

And mine?
Michael wondered, almost staggered by the power of wanting that to be true.

Yoshani raised a hand and pointed. "There is the path. It is not much further now."

For a few steps, the only sound was their shoes on the path.

"Do most people know about the world's ... odd behavior?" Michael asked. "I've never met anyone in Elandar who knew about this." No one who had admitted it, he amended. But they all knew about people who had walked between the Sentinel Stones and disappeared forever. Crossed over to another landscape. That's how Sebastian and Teaser had explained walking across an ordinary-looking bridge and ending up in another part of the world. Did all the Sentinel Stones work the same way? How could these bridges have existed in Elandar for centuries without anyone but the Merry Makers remembering how they worked?

Maybe people didn't want to remember. Maybe it's time for people to remember once again.

"It is not odd behavior, Michael," Yoshani said. "It is the nature of Ephemera." He stopped walking and stared at the land in front of them. "And no, most people do not understand our world. They are protected from its nature — and their own — by the bedrock of the Landscapers' hearts. But because they have lived in the part of the world that was most shattered by the war between the Dark and the Light, there are many people here who understand the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

Yoshani turned and placed a hand on Michael's chest. "That no matter how much you know about the world and its vastness, the only landscapes you can truly see are the ones that resonate with your own heart." He stepped back. "Come. The border is at the end of that path."

A shiver went down Michael's spine. He'd met Yoshani a few minutes after he crossed the bridge into Sanctuary, and had trusted the man on sight. But when he'd explained his purpose, something had flickered in Yoshani's dark eyes. That flicker hadn't altered his trust in the man, but it did worry him — especially after Yoshani explained that he'd have to cross over to another part of Sanctuary in order to continue his journey.

Now the border — and another piece of the world — was at the end of the path. At least there was comfort in knowing he wouldn't be leaving Sanctuary just yet.

"What's that?" Michael asked when they reached a statue of an otterlike being standing upright and wearing an open, full-length coat or robe. The top of the statue reached his chest, which reminded him of the Merry Makers because they stood at about that same height. And even though the creature looked benign, seeing something else that looked humanlike but wasn't human made him very uneasy.

"That is a River Guardian. They built their homes in the face of the gorge and have tended the River of Prayers for as far back as their race has memories. Their magic is very powerful and has become part of the currents of the river, even beyond the landscape they call home. Just stay on the path and walk past the statue. That will take you to their part of Sanctuary."

Michael hesitated. "Can you come with me?"

Yoshani studied him. "I can accompany you a little further on the journey if you like."

"I would like. Very much."

Yoshani smiled, "Come then." He walked past the statue and vanished.

Michael hurried after Yoshani, not wanting to get lost or left behind. But when he passed the statue and found himself in another part of Sanctuary, he forgot about his companion and the reason for this journey. Forgot about everything because the river pulled at him, the clash and harmony of its songs commanding all his attention.

Yoshani grabbed Michael's arm to keep him from moving closer to the rushing water. "This river runs through many landscapes and, even here in Sanctuary the banks are not always safe."

Power, Michael thought as he stared at the river. He'd never felt such a powerful flow of water. Some' parts of it looked tame and no deeper than an easily waded stream, and the dainty waterfalls that spilled from small slate islands were restful to the eye and heart. But the rest of it ...

"It's a battle," he whispered, his eyes drawn to the places where the current seemed to fight itself, and the speed of the river mesmerized him until the lure of becoming part of it was almost irresistible.

"Michael."

He still couldn't take his eyes off the river, was almost deaf to everything except its sound, but he allowed Yoshani to pull him back a few steps.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"I think it has other names in other landscapes, but here it is called Wish River," Yoshani replied. "The River Guardians say it reveals the conflicts that arise when one heart's wants and needs are directly opposed to another heart's wants and needs."

Michael forced himself to look away from the furious energy in the rapids and focused on the serene islands of stone with their dainty waterfalls and calm pools.

Yoshani followed his gaze and smiled. "Not all heart wishes are in conflict with another." He tugged on Michael's arm. "Come.

Your journey has not ended, and if you delay too long, you may not find what you seek."

Troubled by the words, Michael turned away from the river — and became aware of an odd sound, like a low, steady thunder.

A mist was rising up from the river, softening the air and forming rainbows. Where the mist rose, the river disappeared, and Michael began to suspect he knew what that sound of steady thunder meant.