Darkest Designs (14 page)

Storey spluttered. It didn't matter? Is so mattered. His next word stopped her in her tracks.

“Tammy is waiting for you,” the Broken One said.

She gasped in joy. She'd forgotten that the styluses could communicate telepathically with the Louers. Something about their combined abilities, adaptability and technological advancement. “You spoke with her? How is she?”

“She is well.”

Eric said, “I still don't get this telepathic stuff.”

“It is only language. And using energy as the translator.”

With a shake of his head, Eric said, “I wanted to ask – is Dillon the first Toran to be soul bound to a stylus?”

“No.”

Storey remembered Eric hadn't been in on the earlier conversation. He didn't know what Dillon was.

The Broken One added, “Dillon is not a Toran. He is a Louer.”

She gasped, finally realizing what she'd missed earlier. She stared up at Eric.

Eric frowned down at her, obviously not understanding.

She didn't know if he hadn't put the dots together or if the connected dots really didn't matter. Cautiously, she said, “I didn't realize you have Torans and Louers intermingled in your Toran dimension. I'd assumed all the Louers had been banished.”

He shrugged. “They were.”

Storey sucked in her breath. And waited.

Eric shook his head. “I'm not dense, but the way you're looking at me, as if I'm missing something important, is making me feel that way.”

She took a deep breath and hoped she didn't have to explain.

“Oh, hell.” Eric shared at her stunned.

Yeah, he got it. Finally. He narrowed his gaze. “You're saying Dillon is a Louer. And he was in the Toran dimension. So therefore at one time, they were mingling.”

“Dillon wasn't a slave.”

“I remember that, too.”

“And,” she prompted.

He frowned. “And what?” His expression cleared as he finally understood what she'd been getting at. Then a thundercloud swept across his face. “It can't be. There has to be some mistake.”

“I don't think there is.”

“It's not possible. Paxton is Dillon's brother. If Dillon is a Louer, that means our top philosopher, our greatest scientific leader, the confidant of our Council and the eldest of all the council members – is a Louer.”

Now he got it.

***

Eric couldn't think. The facts, as he understood them, swirled into a dark, chaotic form that made no sense to his brain. Was it possible that Paxton was a Louer? Dillon looked like the same race as Eric or Storey, but then from what Eric had learned from her and the styluses about his people's history, Dillon would. The Louers' appearance had changed over time due to hardship – a hardship that Dillon…and Paxton…had missed. It boggled the mind.

How could it have happened?

“In all societies that employ slavery, some slaves hold higher positions than others. It's quite possible that Paxton's parents or grandparents were free people.” Storey suggested, her tone quiet. “Maybe they had migrated from Louers to Torans and no one knew.”

“It could change everything at home.”

“If anyone finds out.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I won't tell.”

It wasn't that easy. Eric had no idea how he should feel. His mentor, the man he preferred to think of as his best friend, perhaps even as a father, was the enemy.

As if reading his thoughts, Storey said, “Just don't make the mistake of thinking that Paxton and Dillon are the enemy. Paxton has shown by his every action that he is as much a Toran as you.”

Eric nodded. “I understand that.”

“But?” Storey narrowed her eyes at him. “It makes no difference. You might want to also consider that given how long ago this could have happened, that Paxton might not even know.”

Shocked, Eric studied her features. “How could that be? Of course he'd know.”

“First off, his own parents might not have known. If they didn't, then he wouldn't have. It's not something you'd speak about normally. And even if he did know, Paxton has devoted his very long life to serving the Torans. He's kept you safe and helped in every way he could. You can't blame him for this.”

“I'm not blaming him,” Eric said slowly, “But there is a sense of betrayal.”

That garnered him a dismissive look. “For not having told you? How could he? Especially once all the problems started. If he knows, he'd have to wait for the right time to tell you. And understand – there is no good time for bad news.”

Eric didn't want to discuss it anymore. He couldn't. He had no idea of how to feel and certainly wasn't going to hash out the issue right now. He shoved it all away and tried to refocus. “The Broken One says it's time to go. Let's deal with that first. There will be plenty of time later to talk to Paxton.”

Storey gave him a slow nod. “True. You and Paxton need some time alone to discuss this. Your father is already a big issue in your life. You don't want to do anything that would put a rift in your relationship with Paxton, too.”

She was right. He knew that. Even the thought of losing Paxton brought a pang to his heart. But later. He'd deal with that later. Firmly, he said, “Let's get out of
this
mess first.”

W
atching the confusion and turmoil on Eric's face, Storey realized how much she'd come to care for many of the Torans – especially Eric. He was special. And she'd even developed a kinship to Paxton. He was the only other person who'd bonded to a stylus that she knew of, after all.

Broken One, can we proceed?

Yes. Draw Tammy in her home. Make her happy and glad to see you. Connect emotionally.

That wouldn't be hard. Tammy had always been happy to see Storey. She'd been taken captive by a party of her own people hoping to force her father to take them home. Storey had saved her.

She picked up her stylus, and sank into the memory. There'd been such a glow in the girl's eyes when she'd realized she hadn't been deserted. That someone cared enough to help her. She's been so despondent before that, the contrast on her face had been emblazoned on Storey's memory. With that picture of hope, of joy, she overlaid the last glimpse she'd had of Tammy as her father walked away with her in his arms.

Her hand moved, slowly at first, carefully laying the picture down as she had it in her mind. Then she picked up speed. The stylus moved with such finesse and such accuracy, she knew she couldn't be doing it on her own. In fact, she'd have to admit this drawing was stronger, and more powerful than anything she'd done before.

Was that the addition of the Broken One?

Yes. We are one.

Stylus, this is only a picture of Tammy, don't I need to draw a portal as well?

We are doing that at the same time,
her stylus said. The comforting sound of her own stylus made her sigh happily. Their connection was more than just instrument and operator. She'd like the think the sense of familiarity she had with her stylus was the beginning of friendship. She'd fought to keep her stylus. And even now couldn't begin to imagine life without it. Him. Them. She shrugged. She understood they were a collective of souls, but since she heard them as one voice, she thought of it as him. Right or wrong.

Of course being soul bound, if they were separated, she'd die.

Thank you.

She stilled.
For what?

For feeling the sense of connection that has been missing in our world. As we have bonded to the stylus, we have also bonded to you. And you to us. That makes our relationship more than it has been before. It makes us whole.

But you were bonded to a scientist before, correct?

Correct. We bonded to him for our existence, but he did not bond to us.

Ah,
she said.
So no mental, or emotional connection.

Or respect.

She pursed her lips at that.

“Storey? Are you even watching what you are doing?”

She glanced over at Eric to see him staring at her in confusion. She blinked and looked down at her picture. She'd drawn a photographic image of Tammy in a dwelling of some kind. Her arms were open as if waiting for a hug and the smile on her face tugged at Storey's heart. She barely heard her own happy gasp at the look of joy in Tammy's eyes. The picture was stunning in its detail. And still her hand flashed and darted, adding a line here, a shadow there.

“I so want to keep this after we are done.” She said. She stared at the warmth in Tammy's eyes. And saw, tucked into Tammy's hair, was her pet, Skorky. Storey chuckled. She'd even be happy to see the rat-like critter again.

“It's stunning, but look, you've got a door in front of her, one we can walk through. Except it's so small and the paper itself is small…how is this going to work?” Eric's tone was exasperated. Doubt twisted his lips as he shook his head. “This can't work. We've always had a piece of paper large enough to step into. Drawn the way you have it, it's a door like you did in Paxton's lab that first time, only you did it so it appeared at the end of a hallway. Like a perspective drawing.”

“We can always use more paper,” she suggested.

Not necessary. This is functional.

Storey lifted her eyebrow and repeated the stylus's words to Eric.

He turned to study the drawing in progress. Then got up, walked behind her and stared down over her shoulder. “Really?” he muttered. “If you say so. Then can we go? This damn place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Storey almost laughed at hearing her thoughts coming out of his mouth. But he wouldn't appreciate it at this time. Or any time.

Then her hand stopped moving. Such an abrupt halt it startled her. She wondered if she could ever do art on her own ever again. With the stylus having become such a creative force behind her drawings, she'd never know what was her art and what was
their
art.

You will know.

Maybe. It wasn't the issue right now. She turned her attention to the sketchpad. She understood what Eric was saying. It didn't look big enough to be of use. Then this wasn't exactly a normal dimension.

Exactly.

“So how do we make this work?” She stood up. She held the picture out in front so both she and Eric could study it.

“Tammy looks so happy to see us, doesn't she?” And that made Storey anxious to see her. That little girl was special.

“Keep in mind – this is a drawing. The stylus can make her look as it wants her to look. That doesn't make it real. Or correct.”

Ah, Eric's pragmatic approach to life. “Then let's find out.”

“How?”

The stylus was silent.

Hmmm. Storey studied the picture. She looked up at Eric. “I think they're expecting us to know what to do with this.”

He snorted. “Like that's going to happen.” He waved an arm around. “We can't do anything here.”

That wasn't quite true. They could do a lot. They just had to think differently. She created the rules here…somewhat. She wondered…could it be that easy? She remembered back to when she'd first arrived, and finding how falling and stopping worked, that so much of it was done by mental control. So if the perspective was the issue, then could she pin this paper to…the fog…and have it hang there?

Holding the paper gently, she detached it from the book and giving Eric a reassuring smile, she mentally, and physically, pinned the picture to the wall of fog.

It stayed there.

She grinned and stepped back. “There.”

“Well it's hanging, but so what?”

As she studied the painting, she had to laugh. Unbelievable. Being a couple of feet in front of her, the fog had moved in, sliding a slight veil around the picture.

Giving it a distance. A perspective.

“Take another look at it.”

Eric planted his hands on his hips and stared at the picture. She stared at him. And watched as he saw it. “The atmosphere here is making the perspective happen as if the picture is real and the fog is real.”

“Right, we're approaching Tammy's home in deep fog conditions and look, there's a light in the picture.”