Chapter 28 #2
Leaving the class that afternoon, she saw Ionáin pushing his way toward her through the other apprentices, looking worried.
She couldn’t face him, couldn’t face what talking to him would force her to acknowledge.
The realization that Senan’s attack had poisoned everything.
That now if she ever tried to think of those moments in the East Tower with Ionáin, she’d remember instead how Senan had forced open the mouth Ionáin had kissed, ripped the skirt Ionáin had held, gripped the thigh Ionáin had caressed, so the marks she carried were Senan’s, not Ionáin’s, and she didn’t know how she’d ever be able to get through this.
So instead she put her head down and hurried out of the classroom before Ionáin could reach her.
She did, though, have one hope she was holding on to like a lifeline: the fact Eoghan had said Lady Hera would arrive the next day.
And so later that evening, after Vespers, she made her way unseen through the central quads and dropped down the light well that led to the sea-cave entrance.
Settling herself in for a damp night, she wrapped her cloak about her, pushing herself into a cleft in the rocks where she’d be less visible.
She woke at dawn to the echo of voices in the cave.
A ship was heaving to at the stone jetty, an armed guard leaping ashore to make the ship fast. There was no sign of Master Joen or any other welcoming party.
éadha watched until she saw Lady Hera appear on deck.
She wore a heavy embroidered cloak with a rich velvet gown underneath, while a gold torque encircled her neck.
Her face was as keen as ever, but there was no disguising the strain visible in her drawn expression, the set line of her mouth as she waved a guard’s hand away impatiently and came on down the gangplank.
She stepped onto the dock; four guards lined up behind her.
Everything about her, thought éadha, seemed designed to project her Family’s wealth and strength.
As they strode along the dock, it was a daunting sight, and she had to work up the courage to step out of her hiding place, surely looking bedraggled in her soggy cloak, hair damp and matted with sand.
“Lady Hera. Could we talk?”
The guards moved to shield the older lady, but she gestured to them to halt.
“éadha.” Hera gazed at her for a moment then said, “Of course. Come here, child.” She embraced éadha briefly, her thin arms holding her tight for a moment before releasing her to move toward the stairs.
“We’ll have to climb and talk. If I can reach the surface before that thug Joen realizes I’ve arrived early, I might be able to speak to Maebh alone for a moment about how they’re treating my nephew.”
They began the steep ascent up the rock face, Lady Hera setting the pace, éadha behind her, and her guards to the rear.
“Now, speak. I must save my breath for climbing.”
“Gry. Some of the Rising Channellers have said he may be used as Fodder as part of his punishment. That we might be channeling him during lessons.” She paused, unable to keep the horror out of her voice.
Lady Hera looked back at her briefly as they climbed.
“Spiteful gossip, nothing more. They’re braggish ghouls, gloating over the misfortune of someone whose boots they’re not fit to clean.
Gry won’t be drained as Fodder. They wouldn’t use a First Family heir so.
They know it’d alienate our Family for all time, even risk another Channeller war. ”
For the first time since Senan’s attack, éadha felt she could breathe all the way in, as the overriding fear that’d choked her throat eased slightly. “Thank you,” she said. They climbed for another little while, then éadha went on. “Could you give Gry a message for me?”
“Of course.”
“Could you thank him for what he did? And tell him I’m sorry?”
Lady Hera paused a moment on the stairs to catch her breath, holding hard to the thin rail and gazing up briefly to the top, still far above them. She swung about then to stare down at éadha standing several steps below. “The thanks I will relay. But the sorry?”
éadha looked away from that direct, assessing gaze. “It’s my fault Gry is in the holds, that he’ll never be able to go home.”
“How do you conclude that?”
“I wore a dress…”
“It must’ve been quite a dress.”
“We talked once, long ago, Gry and I, about how hard it is to hold back. That to be invisible, to endure the contempt and not rise to it, is the right thing to do. To play the long game. But I was given a gift of the most beautiful dress. I wanted to wear it so I’d be noticed, just once.
Because I was missing someone and I wanted them to see me, just that once.
But then it all went wrong. I was noticed, and Lord Senan, he wanted to hurt me for having shown myself in a dress. ”
Her voice wavered as she forced down the memories those words brought rushing back.
She went on. “And when he attacked me, I hesitated. I tried to endure in the very moment when I should’ve said enough.
Gry, he knew. He knew better than I did there has to be a line.
He stepped in to save me, even though he knew I could save myself.
Now he’s locked away in there somewhere, and I can’t feel him anywhere, can’t tell him I’m sorry. ”
Hera paused for a moment, then sighed. “éadha. Take it from an old woman who’s worn many pretty dresses and turned many Channeller heads in her time. Never, never apologize for being young and lovely and wearing a dress so the boy you like sees you for the beauty you are.”
She continued on up the stairs then paused once more, out of breath.
“Gry will be fine. Don’t be misled by his doddery aunt who can hardly climb some stairs.
He’s the heir of one of the Founding Families.
The Masters wouldn’t cross us lightly, and we look after our own.
Your concern does you credit. But it’s a dangerous indulgence.
When you are, oh, twenty-five years old and far from here, sit down some sunny afternoon and have a good cry.
But in this moment, you must focus. The Masters will be scrutinizing every Keeper now to see if they missed anyone else.
You cannot afford a single misstep. You don’t have a powerful Family name behind you, and the Masters would very quickly write you out of existence rather than endure another embarrassment so soon after my nephew. It’s what they do best, after all.”
They were still some way from the top, and éadha could see Lady Hera was tiring badly from the effort of talking and climbing.
“My lady, please, you don’t want to be exhausted for your meetings. Let me help you.”
Her power kicking quietly to life, éadha lifted Lady Hera from the ground. The two of them floated up the remaining section, their feet only inches above the steps. Lady Hera turned to her as they rose, a look of puzzlement on her face. “I can’t sense where you’re channeling from.”
éadha was focused on keeping their feet low as they approached the surface, and without thinking she replied, “Myself.”
Lady Hera’s expression changed to one of purest shock.
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Master Joen’s face appeared over the rim of the light well.
éadha dropped them both instantly so they were back to climbing the steps.
Lady Hera closed her eyes, rearranged her expression, and turned to look up at the Master, who flew down, making a show of lifting Lady Hera the rest of the way.
In the hubbub, éadha left, unnoticed by anyone but Lady Hera, who watched her go before turning back to Master Joen.
éadha didn’t see Lady Hera again on Second Island as she was closeted away with the Masters. But the next day, when Lady Hera was due to sail, there was a knock at the dorm room door. It was one of her personal guard. He bowed and handed éadha a small, tightly rolled scroll.
“Her Ladyship asked me to give you this. She thought it might help you endure what must be endured. Sister save you, my lady,” he said then, bowing once more before leaving.
éadha unrolled the scroll. It was short, the ink still fresh.
All right, Ailm. Don’t. Stop tearing yourself up over what happened, it began.
éadha’s skin prickled at the words; she could so easily see Gry saying them. The bright look in his eyes, the way his lips would turn up at the corners.
I told you that day on First Island you’re worth protecting.
I meant it and I’m glad I did it. But, éadha, I need you to read Leah’s story now because it turns out it’s your story too.
You need to understand you’re more precious than you know, and you absolutely mustn’t let the Masters discover your true abilities. Please. I still need you not dead.
Those first few lines were separated from the rest of the scroll’s text by the heading “The Sister,” and as she read on, éadha could see at once it was a far older story, told in the formal style of the Channeller histories they’d studied on First Island.
The Sister
There was once a family of one girl and three boys.
The girl, Leah, was the firstborn. As she grew toward womanhood, there awoke in her a gift newly born in this world.
To take the strong young life within her and with it reach down into the ground and coax seeds into life, to call the stones to bind together and rise from the earth, to turn life into light or fire or flight.
She shared her power with her baby brothers, sang them to sleep with were-lights dancing above their heads, wove beautiful stories in the air, channeled playhouses for them from the earth.
As they grew, they yearned to be like her, but they did not have her gift.
They became envious of their sister, for she was beloved among the people of their land for the wonders she could create.
Then one day, the oldest of the boys, Erisen, found he, too, could fly, fight, create were-lights, do all his sister could, by taking Leah’s life force and drawing it into himself. He gathered his brothers then and they, too, learned the way of it.
At first Leah was happy to let them channel from her, for she loved and trusted them.
The power they drew, she gave willingly.
But they grew greedy, draining her more and more.
She became gaunt and weary. Soon her power was not enough for them.
They began to draw the life force from all those around them.
So channeling, as it is now known, as it is taught by the Masters and used by the Great Families, came to be.
The brothers became powerful and wealthy, using their power to drain and subjugate people in the lands all around them.
Their sister wanted no part in this, and at first they let her be.
But as people came to Leah for help, her brothers began to fear that her gift, where she gave of herself to help others rather than take from them, made them vulnerable.
There was no place for her gift in the world they were building, where channeling was a path to dominion over others, not service.
So they stole her away one night, fired up with the life force of the very people who had come to her for help.
She had no chance against their might, no heart to fight the brothers she loved and the power she had helped unleash.
On Second Island they imprisoned her, in an island fortress raised just to hold her.
Too far from land to use her power to escape, leaving her to live out her days broken and alone.