It was just a blank spot on the wall.
Akna kept staring at it. It was the only way to keep everything else out. Closing her eyes didn’t work. That just brought more images of Chica and Inhuan. More images of death.
Felitïa and Agernon were speaking in the other room, and the walls weren’t thick enough to dull them much, but Akna did her best to tune them out. She didn’t want to hear them right now. She didn’t want to see them.
She didn’t want to see or hear anyone or anything right now.
Last night continued to haunt her.
It was one thing to see images in her dreams. Even seeing them whenever she closed her eyes was something she had...not gotten used to, but accepted...sort of. But to see them and hear voices with her eyes open, wide awake, was something else entirely.
Felitïa had looked and sounded like Chica. The only explanations for that Akna could think of were, she was going mad, or someone had cast a spell on her. Both seemed equally plausible.
Or it was real.
But that was impossible. Chica was dead. She’d died right in front of Akna.
Find me.
Those words had to be a product of her imagination or some malicious spell, right? Yes, they had to be. But they haunted her. And they were constantly on her mind
She really wished she could forget it all. All the deaths. All the loss.
The sound of Agernon’s cane smacking the floor broke through her attempts to ignore her surroundings. “You need sleep! Wandering about last night was utterly irresponsible!”
“I tried, but I couldn’t sleep,” Felitïa said. “I think I need time to settle in, to relax. I haven’t really been able to relax in ages, and it’s going to take my body time to realise it’s allowed to now.”
“Then there’s not much we can do with the Staff right now. Not until your mental faculties are at full strength.”
“Let’s focus on Corvinian, then.”
Akna tuned them out again, focused her attention of the blank spot on the kitchen wall once more, stared at it with all her will.
What if it wasn’t a spell? What if her dreams were finally getting to her and she was going mad?
She had no idea what to do about that. Perhaps there was nothing she could do. Perhaps the madness would just decide her actions for her. That was a frightening thought.
Perhaps she should talk with someone about it. Felitïa? Felitïa knew these things were happening, knew she had hallucinated Chica, knew she was having nightmares. It had been impossible to hide these things. So Felitïa was an obvious person to talk to about it.
But she still wasn’t comfortable enough around Felitïa.
She wished Meleng was here. She could talk to him. She should have gone with him to Isyaria, not come here. There was no point for her here, other than as a bodyguard of sorts for Felitïa, and Felitïa didn’t really need one. Felitïa could take care of herself.
But there was no way of catching up to Meleng and Jorvan now. No, she was stuck here.
“Hey.” Corvinian had come up beside her.
“Hey.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
He wandered over to the fire and removed the kettle hanging there. “You’ve been staring at the wall ever since you got here. You’re ignoring everyone else, so that means you’re probably upset about something because you always zone out when you’re upset.”
She looked away from him, focused on that blank spot again. “I do not.”
“You also always look away from people when you’re lying.”
“Aren’t you only ten?”
“Nine, but almost ten!”
She looked back at him. He had moved over to the table where he was pouring the scalding water into a pot for tea. “How does a nine-year-old get so wise?”
He smiled and put the kettle down on the table. Then he went over and pulled a loaf of bread off one of the shelves. “I’m just smart, I guess.”
“So it seems.”
“Smarter than you, anyway.”
She glared at him. “Hey!”
He giggled. “You should see your face!”
“What about my…?” Akna sighed, then laughed as well.
“See, that’s better.” He tore the bread up into several pieces and placed them on the tray along with the teapot. “So, you want to talk about it?”
Akna sighed again. Could she talk to Corvin? He was a good kid. He certainly meant well. But he was so young. He hadn’t experienced death the way she had. Would he understand? Even if he did, did she have the right to burden him with things he was too young for?
If he were a girl in Ninifin, he’d soon be eligible to join the Youth Guard. Once upon a time, she would have seen nothing wrong with that, and she still didn’t in principle. But then she had been forced to lead the Youth Guard into real battle, to watch most of them die under her command.
Fra-Chan, just twelve years old, had had to kill others and watch people die in front of her. Akna was nineteen and she was too young for that. How could Fra-Chan—or Corvin—be ready for it?
But Corvin had been through a lot, too, hadn’t he? He’d been kidnapped by Volgs, carried across the continent, and handed over to Fra-Ichtaca, kept prisoner for months. He’d seen people die. Maybe he would understand. Maybe she could tell him.
But he was gone. Maybe he’d taken the tea out. How long had she zoned out?
She stood up with the intention of heading into the other room, but Corvin came back.
“You look so funny when you’ve zoned out. You didn’t even notice me leave.”
No, she hadn’t. She was trained better than that. To be alert. To notice things happening around her. Not zone out as if she wasn’t even there. She was failing to notice so much these days.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it,” Corvin said. “I understand.”
Akna sat back down in the chair she’d been sitting in. “Did Felitïa tell you about last night?”
He went back over to the fire and stirred whatever was in the large cooking pot there. “Only what I heard her telling Agernon. Something about someone stalking her and you.”
“Her mostly,” Akna said.
“I guess that would be scary. But you and Felitïa can stand up to anyone. I wouldn’t worry.”
There his age showed. “There’s more to it than just that.”
“Like what?” he asked.
Maybe he wasn’t the best person to talk to about this.
But there was no one else.
“I mistook Felitïa for Chica.”
“She was one of your friends who died, right?”
Akna nodded. “Not just a friend. She was my closest confidant. And more.”
“Well, it was dark out.”
Akna smirked. “Chica looked nothing like Felitïa. Even in the dark, that’s not a mistake anyone would make.”
“Yeah, but if you’re tired or something.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for trying, kid, but it’s not working.”
He nodded and shrugged.
They were silent for several moments.
“Don’t you need to be with Felitïa and the old man so they can examine you or something?” Akna asked eventually.
Corvin shrugged. “Right now, they’re still trying to figure out what to do. They don’t need me right now. Except to make tea and food. What was your friend like?”
“Chica? She was so full of life.” And in her mind’s eye, Akna saw that life snuffed out again. “We grew up together. Did practically everything together when we were little girls. Kept doing as much as we could together when we got older. She had duties in court and I had duties in the Youth Guard, but we still found time to be together.” Usually late at night, lying in one another’s arms.
“She sounds nice.”
“She was. Then we went to Scovese and it all ended.” She closed her eyes and once more, she saw Chica’s face explode as the spear pierced through it. “My job was to protect her, but I failed. She died in front of me and I couldn’t stop it.”
Corvin frowned. “That’s sad. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
Akna kept her head lowered, her eyes closed. “That’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Maybe you just miss her.”
“Of course I miss her.”
“I mean, that’s why you thought you saw her. You miss her a lot and want her back. My mom and dad died—not right in front of me like you, but they were killed too. By a Volg looking for me. I missed them a lot. I still do. Sometimes I imagine seeing them. Mom was really strict, and I used to hate it, but now I wish…” His voice trailed off, softer with every word.
Akna opened her eyes. He was staring at the floor, hiding his eyes from her, his posture slumped.
“Tell me about your mom.”
He didn’t raise his head, only shrugged his shoulders. “She used to tell me stories.”
“What kind?”
“My favourites were the ones about Egorthian knights.”
“I don’t know those. Tell me about them.”
“They had lots of sword fighting.” He mimed swinging a sword. “They would fight goblins, trolls, and Volgs. And there’s one where the knight fights a dragon, and he stabs it right between the eyes.” He stabbed with his imaginary sword. “I want to learn how to use a sword, but Rudiger keeps telling me I’m too young.”
“Rudiger’s not here,” Akna said. “He can’t stop you.”
Corvin’s eyes widened and he looked at her. “Can you teach me?”
“Not the sword. But you don’t really want to learn to use the sword.”
“But I like swords.”
“How about the spear? I can teach you how to use a spear.”
“You’d do that?”
Akna nodded. “We’ll start with daggers because they’re smaller and better for close-quarters combat, but then we’ll move to spears. What do you say?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, you got a deal.”
He punched the air.
Felitïa probably wouldn’t approve, but Felitïa didn’t get to be in charge of everything. The boy might be young, but he deserved to learn to defend himself—strange powers or not.
But first, she had to deal with her own problems. Chica was dead. She had to accept that and move on.
“First,” she said, “let’s find out what Felitïa and the old man have planned for you.”
* * * * *
Nin-Akna looked distant again. She was looking at the queue at the well, but was looking right through it. Mixed feelings of fear and worry emanated from her. She had been like this all day, only brightening up for a short while at Agernon’s. Now they had left, though, she was back to how she had been earlier.
Felitïa wanted to say something. Offer Nin-Akna an ear, someone willing to listen. But she knew she would be rejected. Nin-Akna seemed to be getting less and less comfortable around Felitïa all the time, and Felitïa had no idea how to fix that. The events of last night had to have made things worse. There was still embarrassment and shame mixed with Nin-Akna’s feelings right now.
Felitïa was bothered about last night, too. Something very strange had happened. Whoever that figure had been had hid their mental presence from her, which meant either a mentalist or another telepath. Neither was good news.
She looked about the plaza. The queue was not as long today, but it was still extensive. A couple soldiers from the Watch were walking slowly along the line.
“Keep an eye on the Watch,” Felitïa said. “I wouldn’t put it past Almais to have told them to keep me from doing any meditating here.”
Nin-Akna blinked, and nodded.
“Try to prevent them interrupting me if you can, but don’t resort to violence.”
“I understand.”
“Are you going to be okay?” It was worth at least asking.
Nin-Akna looked away. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Felitïa shook her head. “Just checking. That’s all.”
It was silly. Nin-Akna knew Felitïa was telepathic. She also knew Felitïa knew she knew. So the deception seemed pointless. Though in another sense, it got its point across.
Felitïa sat on the same bench as she had the day before. Once more, she closed her eyes and dismissed the Room as it started to instinctively form. She cleared her mind of everything, all other presences, all her own thoughts save one—the day at the well when she was thirteen. She let her mind drift back to that day. Let the memory form images in her head.
She realised right away that she shouldn’t have looked at the people in line before doing this, as she began to see images of those people instead of the ones on that earlier day. Perhaps she should have waited to do this later tonight, when the people would have gone back to their own lives. If this didn’t work this time, she would do that next time.
She pushed aside those recent images and cleared her head again.
All that mattered was then.
Then.
She is here with us.
There were no people or well this time. Just voices—and only the voices that didn’t belong.
Where am I?
Her own voice. Her own thoughts. She was sure of it.
She was thirteen at the time, and for a moment, she was thirteen again.
She was in a gleaming silver corridor. It stretched ahead of her, curving to the right. She turned around and saw that the corridor curved to the left. Like the corridor formed a circle.
Where was the well? A moment ago, she had been at the well. Where was she?
“Hello? Is anybody here?”
Her voice echoed down the hall, bouncing off the strange, silver walls.
There was no answer, so she walked down the hall, turning with it.
“Does it matter?”
The voice came from an opening in the wall up ahead to her left, a bright light shining from it.
“It matters.” This voice was deeper, booming and distant.
Felitïa peered into the opening, about to ask for help, to ask where she was, how she’d gotten here. But the light was blinding. She pulled back, squeezing her eyes shut.
“She is here with us.” A third voice. There was a deepness to it, but not like the one before. There was a smoothness to it, and it didn’t boom.
She opened her eyes. A woman had come out of the room. The most beautiful woman. Tall with dark skin, and thick hair worn in dreadlocks that framed a mature, but somehow ageless face. She wore a sparkling silver gown that reminded Felitïa of the blinding light in the room, except calmer and not as difficult to look upon. Her right hand grasped a long staff, the end of which was carved like a winged snake was coiled around it. The snake had sparkling gems for eyes.
“She is powerful indeed if she can see us in this place,” the booming voice said.
Felitïa tried to speak, but all that came out was a harsh gargle.
The beautiful woman smiled and knelt in front of her. “Felitïa,” she said. The third voice.
Felitïa nodded. “Where…?” She had to gasp the word out and nothing else would come with it.
The woman’s smiled broadened and she reached out her free hand to Felitïa, brushing aside some strands of hair that had fallen in front of Felitïa’s face. “Possibly more powerful than any of us would have ever expected.”
“It is too soon,” the booming voice said. “You know what to do.”
“Are we sure about this?” The first voice again. Softer, higher pitched, and coming from inside the room.
“We’ve been through this,” the beautiful woman kneeling in front of Felitïa said. “Felitïa, you must listen to me.”
Felitïa couldn’t even nod. Fear was finally taking over. This place made no sense. Where was she? How had she got here? She wanted to scream these questions, but she couldn’t.
“You will soon forget this, but you must remember.” The woman laid the flat of her palm on the side of Felitïa’s face, covering her cheek and ears. “Zandrue. Rudiger, Borisin. Meleng. Corvinian. Jorvanultumn. Quilla. Kindanog. Nin-Akna.”
The names went on. When they ended, the first voice—the soft one—said, “You left one out.”
Felitïa’s eyes flew open. She took a deep breath.
Snow was falling. It hadn’t been snowing when she’d sat down.
“I wondered if you’d fallen asleep,” Nin-Akna said. She was sitting beside Felitïa now.
“How long was I out?”
Nin-Akna shrugged. “I don’t know. Thirty...forty minutes?”
It had only felt like a couple minutes at most.
“Did you learn anything?”
You left one out.
“Yes?” Felitïa looked at Nin-Akna and shrugged. “Maybe? I definitely recalled something, but I think it’s just left me with more questions.”
She wracked her mind, trying to piece together what she’d just...remembered, she supposed, except it didn’t feel like most other memories. It was more dreamlike, and it was starting to fade. She could barely remember the woman’s appearance again, and the names… For a brief time, she had known all the names—all the people in the line-up in her head, and how many there were. Now, she could no longer remember any farther than Nin-Akna again.
You left one out.
Except that memory was perfectly clear.
“What do you mean?” Nin-Akna asked.
“I remember going somewhere. Except I don’t think I actually went there. Not physically anyway, but mentally. My mind went somewhere, and I don’t think the people there expected it. But they knew who I was. One of them gave me the list in my head. The people in my head.”
“The ones I’m part of?”
Felitïa nodded. “I think she put the images in there as well somehow. For a brief moment just now, I remembered who all the others were too, but they’re gone now.” She jumped to her feet, then looked back at Nin-Akna. “But then there was something new. One of the others—there were at least three of them, but I only saw one—one of the two I didn’t see said something just before it ended. ‘You left one out,’ she said.”
Nin-Akna looked up at here. “Out of the list?”
“That seems to be the implication.” Felitïa sighed. “So not only do I have a bunch of people in my head for reasons I still don’t know—not only do I still not remember them all—but there’s also supposed to be someone else in there too, and there’s no way to find out who that is. At least, not with the information I currently have.”
Nin-Akna stood up. “That’s...awkward. Any idea how to find more information?”
There was boredom mixing in with the other feelings coming from Nin-Akna. Felitïa supposed she didn’t really blame her. There was no way the people in her head could be as tangibly important to Nin-Akna as they were to Felitïa. “No idea.”
“Maybe we should continue on our way for now then.”
“You’re right,” Felitïa said. “It’s just another mystery to add to all the others. It can be saved for later, just like them.”
She hated having to constantly put these mysteries aside. But for now, there was something else she needed to do. Agernon had agreed that it was better to do this sooner than later. It was time to visit Lord Feodor Belone.
