Miles to Babylon

IV: The Bildtrager Reel, Part IV

Cold rushed into the room. Awen's thick hair stuck to her nape. She wiped her clammy hands on the sides of her skirt and shut her eyes, trying to rid them of that pulsing, breathing darkness; it was no good. Even behind her lids, it followed.

"Thea—" Reilow began, but the guildlorist would have none of it.

"How dare you bring that—that unholy thing—" she snapped, pointing at the empty tarp. Awen stared at her, shocked. She had seen Auntie Thea angry before, but this... the crinkled eyes were wide and dangerous, and spittle flew from her mouth.

"Now, Dr M'Lori—" began Father Byrnholt, before Auntie Thea cut him off.

"Out! All of you—yes, you as well, Madame Ambassador." Awen noticed that Miss Lamm was rising to her feet. Even amid Auntie Thea's outburst she remained composed, poised as a serpent. Auntie Thea sidled to the door and flung it open unto the dark hallway.

"By God, Thea, she healed the Cothe!" Dr Reilow marched over to Auntie Thea, his hands lifted as if he would shake her. "You've seen the figures, and even on film, the similarities—it stands to reason that she could—"

"You don't know that, you old fool!" Auntie Thea spat, strands of grey hair flying out of her bun. "You told me yourself that the girl never wakened!"

"What?" Awen's insides had been crawling like spiders after the reel—now it felt as though she had no insides at all.

"Ah—" Reilow's voice choked. He turned to Awen, his glasses sliding off the end of his sweaty nose, held aloft only by his shelf of a mustache. "No, child—that's inaccurate—she is cured, the scans show it, it's her body that's recovering—"

"But—she will wake up, won't she?"

Dr Reilow paused, long enough to glance at Miss Lamm and Father Byrnholt—too long. "We... believe so," he said, swallowing. "There's no reason she shouldn't—it's left her, I swear it, but the toll it took—"

"It doesn't matter!" screamed Auntie Thea. "Even if it's true, Awen cannot mend the Breach!"

The room was a held breath. Slowly, Awen realized that all eyes had fallen back on her. Auntie Thea's were mortified. Like she's lost everything, Awen thought. She gazed around at them all. "The Breach?"

Reilow heaved a sigh, the world-weary lorekeep once again. "The Breach, child. The last part of the reel."

"The last part? But I thought that was another scan of the—"

"The Cothe. Of course you did. You see how alike they are—not merely in form, but in function." Dr. Reilow perched himself on the edge of the desk, mopping once more at his forehead. "What the Cothe does to the mind, the Breach does to our world. The very motes of the Lower Realms—the threads binding our existence—unravel under its touch, like a tapestry pulled apart strand by strand. A complete disintegration. A void left behind, hungry and waiting for something... else. But you," he said with a sad smile, "you restored them. If only we could tell how you did it..."

"I don't even know," Awen shook her head. This was too much—it was some kind of grand joke, it had to be. "I never know how to do these things until it's time. I don't—"

"But you did, my dear," Father Byrnholt assured her. "You've done something that all the alchemists and magi in the world have failed to do."

But they didn't understand! How could they? They hadn't been there that night, when the creature had unraveled—the same word Dr Reilow had just used—from Lydia's limp body. They hadn't felt that deep, fathomless void. Or had they? If they knew so much, perhaps they knew of the creature... maybe this wasn't even their first experience with magic like her own.