The Misfortune of Distorted Truth

I Will Be Yours

M said nothing of her dreams when she had returned to the Sorrowturtle's cave, but they haunted her as she tried to remain casual. Her friends had been extremely and understandably worried in her absence, and were practically all over her as they gave their hugs and kind words.
"I'm so sorry about our argument," Kasa had apologized over and over. Asagwara has wanted to know what they had disputed about; she had refused to tell him.
Presently, M was sitting on the bed with Joshie on her left, Kenji on her right. The others were helping themselves to breakfast by the pool and left them to their own business. The only friends of M's absent were Howell and Guinea, if she could call them friends.
Joshie's orange eyes were wide with concern. "Are you sure you're alright, Lyra?" When M nodded, she hunched her shoulders, pressing the tips of her fingers together with her elbows resting on her knees. "You don't have to pretend. You don't have to lie. When you lie you're just doing what Duygu wants you to do." The blonde girl shrugged, but she seemed angry now.
"I can't help that!" M retorted, though she knew she could. Seeing Joshie's expression, she softened. "Please, I don't want to fight. I -" It was then that M remembered what Ehmohree had said to her the previous night and she sat up straight, her eyes alight. "The answer must be in 'Distorted Truth'! Where is it? Where?"
"M - uh, Lyra, Asagwara's got it," Kenji replied. He was thoroughly bemused. "What d'you need the journal for?"
But M paid him no mind, jumping to her feet and rushing over to Kasa's son, who had a spoonful of oatmeal halfway between his bowl and his expectant lips. He plopped it back in the bowl when he heard her near him and awaited her words without inquiry.
"I need the book, please," she requested urgently, and Asagwara handed it over with a shrug. She retreated to a lone corner, or what was closest to a corner in the rough circle of a cave she was in, and laid on her stomach with it. "Answers, answers, there's got to be answers..." But M had no idea what advice was to be discovered in the king's entries, and quickly became frustrated with Ehmohree. All there is is the stuff about the names of the Eyes that are representations and keepers of his different emotions! The Eyes have nothing to do with Isaac! I want Isaac!
Ehmohree mentioned 'Distorted Truth' to you? a voice thought back. It was distinctly squash-sounding; M had learned to associate colors with voices, which was a strange and incomprehensible matter but worked for her somehow.
Yes, she thought, devising to be completely truthful from now on - for what good was it to not be? Yeah, Joshie, and I - well, I think Ehmohree was trying to tell me how to get my Isaac back, how to rescue him.
Lyra, you know that he's gone. I'm sorry.
Another voice, this one silvery and like silk, put in, I believe Ehmohree was trying to tell you... It trailed off.
Asagwara? M glanced over at him. He was shoveling oatmeal into his mouth now, ignoring his mum's attempts at making conversation and his free fingers clutching a handful of his dark brown hair. She knew something was wrong... It was just that, well, another something was demanding that she leave him alone. She made eye contact with Joshie, who frowned and thought, I'm coming over there. Reluctantly, M scooted aside to make room, the journal in front of her, and she tried to forget how Joshie had immediately shot down the hope that her best friend could be saved.
"Hey," Joshie whispered, sitting beside her and crossing her legs neatly. "Whatcha got there?"
"You know very well what I've got," M hissed. She flipped through the pages more rapidly still, agitated and on edge. "I saw Ehmohree last night, okay? He said this journal would help me!"
"Why did you see him?"
"I thought he could help me. I thought. I was wrong. Would you just find out what he meant?" M's finger caught on a page about a quarter of the way through 'Distorted Truth' and she stopped to stare at the word pulsing violently on the page, etching into her brain. It was one of the Eyes' names. One of their names. One part of what made Balil themself, one part of everything they felt. M couldn't help but think maybe Duygu had cared for their parent after all, if they had worked so hard to find a way to somehow spare them even as they fought so hard to be ruler of Fortunia. Maybe Duygu did have a heart.
An image of Asagwara batted across the main cave flashed through M's mind and she grimaced. No. No, they didn't.
"Maybe Ehmohree wants you to talk to Valen," suggested Joshie.
M looked at the girl, wide-eyed. "How could you possibly have come to that conclusion? Do enlighten me."
Joshie seemed hurt, drawing back, but she continued softly, "Well, I was thinking that since Val was the one who had the journal before Howell stole it, maybe Ehmohree was hinting at that. I... I don't know! I don't know."
Could it really be Val that she was supposed to talk to? M doubted it, but she felt extremely guilty for having snapped at her friend and decided she ought to take more than a few moments to consider her recommendation. Perhaps it was something inside the journal she was meant to find... It couldn't be the page Asagwara had discovered, though, no. Perhaps M was meant to find a connection between something in the king of lies' book and something in Fortunia. M didn't need to voice her new ideas out loud for Joshie to hear.
"That's not bad," Joshie mused, tilting her head slightly so her golden locks shifted over her shoulder. "So what's the connection?"
M read through the brief entries multiple times, Joshie perched patiently next to her all the while, but she didn't see anything of significance. It wasn't like she could speak to Bilal; he was dead, was he not?
"Could I take a peek?" Kenji piped up. He had suddenly appeared right near M and she jerked a little in her surprise. She nodded, shrugging it off, and he eagerly grabbed at it. M watched expectantly as the boy read quickly through what she had just reviewed; and what she expected was for him to be as clueless, if not more so, than her. But once he had reached the closing entry and was checking for further writing, he shut the book with a note of finality, tucking it under his arm and reaching behind his head to tie his loose black locks back into a ponytail. He shoved his glasses up his nose.
"Hmm?" Joshie glanced at her fingernails before looking with a tired expression at the boy with the journal. She seemed antsy to get moving on; though of course, she didn't want to be rude.
Kenji shrugged as M had a short while ago, examining the wall and its decorative blue gemstones. Then his gaze moved slowly downwards to the pool, where they were reflected rather aesthetically in the water. "I, uh," he said, scratching his head, "I, um, it's talking about the Eyes, yeah? The guy's emotions or soul... pieces or something made up the Eyes, didn't they? Uh, so, why don't you just talk to them, M?" He raised his eyebrows.
M blinked. Joshie, meanwhile, drew a sharp breath and let it out with, "Ohhhhhh."
"Kenji, you're brilliant!" M blushed dark red, but it was mostly from her own feeling of stupidity. It had been so obvious, how could she have missed it? Another idea struck her then, for a reason she couldn't identify, and at that moment she returned to Joshie. "I'm going to see Val."
Joshie was raising her eyebrows now. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and said flatly, "What."
"I thought I was brilliant? I-I didn't mention, I didn't m-mention the Val dude?" Kenji was utterly confused, and it was expressed so evidently on his face that M nearly felt like laughing. This, however, was no time for humor. So she patted Kenji fondly on the shoulder, grabbed Joshie's right hand with her left, and tugged her out of the cave. The other occupants of the room looked up; none made any comment.
"What about the Eyes, girl?" Joshie said immediately upon their exit, slipping her hand out of M's grasp. "You just -"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," M interrupted curtly. "Come on!" The question that had abruptly begun bugging her moments earlier needed answering more than anything right now, because she knew her Isaac could wait, while this could not. Who knew where Val could be getting off to? So M gestured impatiently to her friend and set off for Val's cave, only hoping he would have the answers.
"But I don't understand -" Joshie began again, and M cut her short with,
"This isn't related to the journal, got it?"
That shut Joshie up right then. M raced along the hallways with more determination than ever, occasionally swerving to avoid smacking straight into the chest of a wandering Teahdee. M still couldn't comprehend how and why the question she had flashing wildly in her mind had popped up; did it have something to do with Isaac after all? Did her subconscious somehow alert her to this because it was of great importance?
The two girls continued onwards through winding tunnels for a while without wasting their breath through idle chatter, the only sounds being of Jallap beetle chirping, Teahdeean chattering, and shoes hitting stone. M watched gemstones go by in a blur of color for what must have been the umpteenth time; she had to admit it hadn't quite lost its flair, even if she'd much, much rather be home with her best friend.
At last, the familiar rich velvet curtains came into view. M thrust them to the sides with the same drama that she remembered Val doing it with, and marched confidently into his quarters. She was (though it's difficult to believe) relieved to spot him sitting on his couch, grooming his Scarfe. When he noticed them standing there, he jumped to his feet, making the Scarfe produce a peculiar mewing noise. "What are you doing here?" he demanded angrily, his nostrils flaring.
"You're the reason my Isaac is dead!" M snarled. Joshie shifted uncomfortably.
Val's nostrils flared even more violently, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Per-haps. What should I care?" But he was looking less assertive already.
Joshie stepped forward, crossing the distance between them, and jabbed her left index finger into the man's chest. "Ooh, look, my pointer finger," she hissed at him when his eyes flashed nervously to the stump that Howell had left behind. "Yeah. So, Val, I - well, I don't exactly know what we're doing here, 'cause M's the one who wanted to talk to you, but mister, I'm tellin' ya why the heck you should care right now. You should care, sir, because you're a human being and it's called friggin' empathy! Also, like she said, you're the one who caused it!"
"Wrong. The Mouse did. I never intended for your little friend to be killed, girl." Val glared defiantly at M, who shrank slightly. Joshie withdrew her finger and returned the expression for her.
M replied shakily, "It doesn't matter. Besides... I didn't come to speak with you about Isaac. I came to speak with you about a poem."
Val's eyebrows were now shooting up so high that both children thought they'd go right up off his head. But, of course, they didn't, and after a pause he rolled his eyes and smirked. "Okaaay, I didn't realize this was a poetry meeting! How thrilling." The man sank down on the couch, his arms still folded, and crossed his legs. "Go on then."
"Here's the story." M made sure both he and Joshie were listening before starting. "Don't worry, it's not long. So you're my ancestor, right? You were born thousands of years ago and somehow you're alive and related to me? I'm disgusted, too, but that's not the point. Isaac had this poem he got from my parents and he'd always recite it to me when I was nervous or scared or sad or whatever. When my parents were home with me, they told me that the poem had been in the family for a really long time. I was wondering... if maybe you knew about it."
"You dragged me to this prick's cave to ask him about a stupid poem?" Joshie exclaimed, aghast.
"It's not stupid!" M shot back. She teared up, but didn't let her friend's comment stop her. "Val, I think it's really important 'cause when I was in the Sorrowturtle's cave the poem came up in my head for some reason, and I feel like it's a sign that it means something. Does it?" M was trembling with anxiety and grief, and to her surprise, Val's smirk transformed into a soft smile.
"The poem," he murmured reminiscently. "Is it, by any chance, titled 'Mea Maxima Culpa'?"
When M and Joshie became puzzled, his smile widened. "It's a Latin phrase meaning 'Through my Greatest Fault'. Is that the title, Mistress Lyra?"
She nodded, bewildered.
"Flowers blooming, sun shining bright, the moon to keep you safe in night. Danger lurking, as he will lie, but blue shan't ever leave the sky. No matter where you go, no matter who you are, someone out there in the world shall be your shining star." Val closed his eyes in his pleasure, oblivious to M's amazed expression; she couldn't believe that she and Val had something to share.
"My version is slightly different, but that's it! How do you know it? I didn't realize it went that far back!"
"I wrote it," he responded coolly.
M's eyes widened. "You what?"
"I wrote it," repeated Val.
"I'm not understanding the significance of any of this," Joshie said with a sigh.
"Mistress Lyra is correct in thinking that the poem is important." Val's eyes fluttered open and he resumed stroking his Scarfe, gazing condescendingly upon the girls as if he were the one who'd had the brilliant idea to speak to himself. "The reason I wrote it, thousands of years ago, not more than a few decades after I'd begun training as the first Wedhn, was due to the horrors I witnessed. I know you see me as a suck-up to Duygu, which I'm not exactly proud to admit I most definitely am, but I created Mea Maxima Culpa as a warning to the other children in my family line that would be granted the Gift. Perhaps not my greatest idea, as they wouldn't have any clue what I was talking about when they heard it, but in my defense I was still an innocent child. Only..." He counted on his nine fingers. "Only eighty-two years old, I think."
Joshie's jaw dropped.
"What does it mean?" M pressed. She was eager, almost star struck to hear it. That poem had been a meaningful part of her life and the only thing that wasn't great about that was that apparently, Val had written it. M could deal with that, though.
"Well, simply put - ah, forget that, I'm not exceptionally skilled at analyzing literary material for nothing." Val's smirk returned and it just about crushed M's heart as well as her patience, but he kept on. "What I intended to convey with this poem, mistresses, is that there is danger here, but it can't take away everything. The last line... you know, 'No matter where you go, no matter who you are, someone out there in the world shall be your shining star', yada yada and so on... that is about how someone will always be there to protect you, no matter what danger comes. I wanted to warn the future Wedhn children of my family line that someone would be looking out for them here, to keep them and their loved ones safe. 'Danger lurks and he will lie' is speaking about Duygu, who is not a male but I'm only using the term generally... ah, anyhow." Val's tongue slid thoughtfully across his lips, and for the first time his condescending air truly fell. "I - I, well, I've failed you, Mistress Lyra, haven't I. I didn't keep you safe. I promised and I didn't save you."
M couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was that an apology? her mind was screaming. Almost immediately she received the tangy rouge reply,
If that would make you feel better. She met Val's eyes in complete disbelief, and saw some sort of emotion that must have been sorrow, even guilt. Even remorse.
Why is the poem important?! Joshie shouted at them both, her thoughts so loud that M was close to leaping several inches off the ground.
"Because, you ignorant creature," Val barked, his cheeks going red with the same impatience M was feeling, "this girl understands very well that I have a debt to repay! I-if, if that is the correct way to put it." M could hear so many confused emotions and trains of thought whirling around in his brain that she couldn't pick out a single one. But... that was a lie. It was a lie, and Val knew it, and M knew it, but did Joshie? M watched her friend's face; she didn't seem to suspect anything.
Why had Val lied for her?
The reason M had wanted to know about the poem was not because she realized Val had broken a promise and was therefore obligated to assist her in her quest to speak to the Eyes. She had wanted to know about the poem because of a hunch, and that was it. A hunch that Joshie could not possibly have considered of significance if she had been told. M thought, somehow, maybe the poem would be connected to a way to save Isaac. Someone out there in the world would be her shining star, wouldn't they? Wasn't that Isaac? Wasn't it? M realized the hunch didn't make much sense to her now; however, it had led her to Val, which had led her to discovering he owed her for letting her loved one die, which was leading to him actually offering to help her. Val had to be great to have on her side down in Fortunia! He was Duygu's favorite pet!
Still, Val had no reason to be lying to Joshie.
"You're actually going to help us talk to the Eyes," Joshie mumbled. M scowled at the thoughts going freely through Joshie's mind... This is ridiculous, it's a waste of time, I mean, come on. I want to help, but I can't be the only one who knows Isaac is definitely dead. Is that blunt? Yeah, I guess. It's true, though! I know it is! Is it really so bad to be realistic? Lyra's getting her hopes up for nothing... I still don't want to shoot 'em down...
Val muttered his agreement and got up again. "I'd like to ask, firstly, what it is you desire to accomplish by speaking to the Eyes. They're not exactly patient. Well, except for Patience."
"Still can't believe I'm trusting you right now - but I'm going to ask the Eyes if there's a way to save my best friend," M told him confidently. Her voice hardly wavered when she spoke the words 'best friend'.
"Why would you talk to them about that?" Val inquired, rolling his eyes. She stared at him, so intensely that he had to turn his head away, and he faltered. "Ah - um - do what you like." Under his breath, he added, "Even if it makes no sense."
"It was Kenji's idea and it's perfectly good!" M was surprised to hear Joshie come to the defense, immediately renewing her irritation with her.
"Oh, so you don't think he's crazy?" M snapped. "You just met him! What is it, do you like him or something? You think following his suggestion when he's not around will make him want to be your boyfriend or some -"
"No!" yelled Joshie. "God, no, Lyra, I don't want a boyfriend! And I don't think either of you are crazy, okay?!" Her orange eyes welled with sparkling tears and a few ran down her cheeks, which were pink with rage. "Just because I don't think that you can save Isaac doesn't mean I won't help you, and it doesn't mean I think you're an idiot!"
M glanced at Val instinctively, always one to look to an adult for assistance, but he had vanished. She couldn't meet Joshie's furious gaze again. She hadn't meant what she'd said... oh, who was she kidding, she only made matters worse...
"We're done fighting," Joshie announced, folding her arms, but her gaze had dropped, too. Val came out from behind the couch, cowering slightly; his fingers were in his mouth and he could be compared accurately to a young child.
"You hid." M didn't even make it a question, for she knew she'd get an answer no matter what.
"I can't stand fighting," Val whimpered, drawing his wet fingers away from his lips and wiping them dismissively on his baggy blue pants. "When I was little, my parents would scream at each other all the time, and when it was over, they wouldn't just pretend like it never happened; no, they'd do the opposite, if you understand that. That's why I belong here," he grumbled, "I prefer when everyone pretends to be or feel something they're not. Lying might be a sin but it's sure damn useful."
"Amen to that," Joshie coughed. M choked back a laugh; she thought it was too soon to get comfortable with her friend again.
Val put his hands on his hips, his merlot-colored eyes lighting up. "So, to repay my debt, Mistress! Let us get on to the Eyes."
M nodded, asking, "Won't Duygu be in the cave, though?"
"Not... at the moment," Val replied quickly. "And even if they caught us in there, which they won't, they wouldn't mind me speaking with the Eyes."
"But Duygu can read minds!" Joshie's forehead creased with worry, and she began twiddling her thumbs. She came to M's side and put a hand gently on her shoulder. "Lyra misses Isaac very much, Val, and I know she wants him back desperately, but if there's even a slim chance of saving him we need to plan. We need to be sensible! To repay your debt you don't lead her into more danger!" She put her hands on her hips just like Val was doing, mocking him, and he frowned.
"Perhaps, perhaps," he mumbled, rubbing his arm as if Joshie had hit him.
"I'm right here, Joshie," M said calmly. She was getting irritated again. How was it Joshie's business what M wanted to do? She wished... She was beginning to wish she hadn't brought her friend along at all. Asagwara might have been a better choice. "Look, I don't care what danger Val's leading me into! I just want to talk to the Eyes and see if they know anything useful!"
She saw Joshie's face fall, and so M composed herself. I keep forgetting she can read my mind too, thought M glumly. Truth be told, she found it extremely aggravating that it seemed like the other Wedhn were always looking into her mind, while she barely paid attention to their thoughts at all. Was she supposed to be? It just seemed so rude to constantly be prying for private information.
"Listen to the mistress, Mistress Joshie, she can do what she wants." Val was beginning to visibly perspire and was rocking on his heels anxiously. "Let's gooo." Straightening his Scarfe, with a whisper of, "Now, now, Caecilia, calm yourself," he made a move towards the hole leading out of the cave.
M let Joshie's hand fall away from her shoulder as she followed the man. She couldn't believe where she was, what she was doing, or why she was doing it, but of course it only upset her more to dwell on it. So M lifted her chin high and continued after Val with confidence. But immediately upon exiting his cave, her eyes began to burn... they felt swollen, in a different way from how they were after a good cry, and M rubbed them vigorously despite knowing better.
When she unconsciously glanced over her shoulder, Joshie was not behind her.
Val and M made their way astonishingly quickly down the tunnels, making confusing twists and turns that were more mind-boggling than the path she recalled taking to the Rock. She couldn't believe, either, that Val knew exactly where he was going. It didn't seem like he was taking M nearer to Duygu's cave, and so the girl faltered occasionally, but she decided Val seemed like someone who would honor a debt, if not a promise.
When they reached the familiar invisible barrier guarding the cave filled with Eyes, it most certainly appeared that M was right to assume the man's trustworthiness.
"State your name, occupation, age, parents, siblings, intentions, purposes, business, and meaning of your presence!" a squeaky voice barked almost immediately. "Leave at this moment if you desire to be in our leader's presence. They are not here!"
"It's alright, Mouse, I came for the Eyes," said Val coolly. He yawned, covering his mouth politely with his olive hand, and exhaled; he was trying to shake off his nerves as discreetly as possible. "It's Valen. Valen Marinos. My occupation is executive assistant to our leader of Fortunia, Duygu; I am... ahhh, well, I'm somewhere between 1,000 and 1,000,000 years old, for sure; my parents are Zephyr and Basilissa; I have no siblings; and, uh, as I said, I desire to speak privately with the Eyes."
There was a tutting sound over the speaker.
"Don't you dare question my authority, Jaxson-Bahrtohn!" Val's nostrils flared. M was almost impressed, though at the same time she would've liked to snicker, and it was quite difficult to suppress.
Jaxson let them in without further comment. The two Wedhn journeyed down Duygu's tunnel, bones crunching sickeningly beneath their feet as they did. M was getting a queasy feeling in her stomach, being in that cave again; she had to grasp the furs of Val's Scarfe tightly between her fingers to get around her natural instinct to flee back where they'd come from.
The man scowled and batted her hand away from his living accessory. "Don't touch Caecilia. If you irritate her and she decides not to help, I swear to the gods, Mistress, I'll -"
"Caecilia," M repeated elegantly. Thinking about how ridiculous Val was seemed like a good distraction from the fact that she was literally walking on the dead remnants of people who had once breathed the same oxygen as her. "Fancy name for a scarf."
"A scarf." Val scoffed. "Oh, a scarf indeed, you silly girl. No, Caecilia is a Scarfe, that is, scarf with an 'e' on the end. She isn't just a pretty thing I throw over my shoulders."
"She."
"Yes, 'she'!" The man was positively indignant by then. "A Scarfe is a very rare and elusive creature. They're blind, relying mostly on the senses of scent and hearing. Caecilia loves music very much. I often play classical for her, you know - Beethoven, Mozart, the works - when I'm alone, that is."
"How is she supposed to help us here?" M could see a dull red glow ahead that meant to her they would soon be in Duygu's cave. She cringed at the prospect of seeing all of those Eyes again, staring unblinkingly at her, peering into the darkest chasms of her mind and soul. For that's what they were, really, weren't they? The Eyes were just Bilal's emotions and thoughts bottled up in living forms, keeping him just alive through what little empathy Duygu had for the sake of their parent. The Eyes were nothing more than Duygu's helpless mind-reading slaves.
"Well, I was thinking about it very hard on the way here," Val began. "The Eyes are dangerous, as I'm sure you're aware, Mistress Lyra. And my dear, sweet Caecilia has an extremely, amazingly, excitingly, marvelously useful power!"
"What's that?" M couldn't deny her curiosity.
"I call it the Rock."
M gawped at him. No, no no, no, no no no, her brain thought furiously, spitting out the denial in an everlasting pattern. That was it. That drab, blue, fluffy piece of fabric on Val's shoulder was the answer? The answer to that mysterious room the Rock, the answer to why Asagwara couldn't have his father? M was fuming, but of course, Val was beaming with pride.
They had been moving slowly, but they were in the cave now. M knew it would be best not to say anything further about Val's little "backup plan" if things were to go wrong with the Eyes. All she could think about now, anyway, was the dark vast space before her.
The girl's heart pounded furiously with adrenaline as, simultaneously, the darkness was drowned out with light from the opening Eyes. Irises of all hues, tints, and shades were colorfully decorating the walls, but it was anything but cheerful. M felt like she was onstage, being able to feel and see nothing more than the audience's eyes right on her. Would it really be so bad to just let Caecilia turn them all to stone right then?
"Speak, Valen," an Eye with a milky iris commanded with a soft voice that somehow resounded with power; M knew that this was Peace. What she hadn't know for sure, however was that the Eyes could even speak at all. The strong voice sounding from nowhere and everywhere all at once was enough to make her heart skip several beats.
Val stepped forward, his right hand up. "Greetings, my Peace." He ignored M completely, just as the Eye was doing, and made certain he was not shaking. "I've come with an inquiry."
Peace blinked - or was it winked, rather? - and said no words. This seemed to be enough for the Wedhn man.
"Is there any way that the young man, that fifteen-year-old boy by the name of Isaac Darrow, could be rescued from the sweet clutches of our lady Death?"
"Why?" A louder, harsher voice echoed throughout the cave. It belonged to Doubt, who had a murky yellow iris that, to M, represented accurately the color of her hesitation. She hadn't realized until that minute that she often put colors to her feelings. "Do you not believe that the child was killed by the Mouse?" Doubt continued nervously. "How could you not?" But he did not have any confidence in his questions.
"It is disgraceful of you to attempt besmirching someone of a near equal status to our leader!" Anger shot back, his fiery red iris burning with actual flames. M felt the heat on her cheeks and stepped back a few paces, getting almost as nervous as Doubt by the minute. Perhaps the Eyes didn't have any useful information after all... What if they became irritated, and told Duygu about M being there, or tried to kill her? M stumbled, distracted, and was close to twisting her ankle as she fell onto the crunching pile of bones.
"Watch yourself, child," Val hissed, still not glancing her way, and then he addressed the Eyes once more. "Please, there is no need for Anger. Doubt, I share similar feelings with you. I only..." He lowered his voice. "I only want to know if Duygu has perhaps pulled a trick in order to put Mistress Lyra to better use."
Better use? M got up slowly from where she had fallen, trying and failing to brush the disgusting stickiness off of her clothing. What do you mean?"
But Val appeared to be ignoring her thoughts, as well.
Peace spoke up before any of the other Eyes could, perhaps attempting to avoid further conflict. "Sir Valen, Duygu should do no such thing. If you would so forgive the mentioning of my previous master's name, Bilal could be of no assistance to you in rescuing the Isaac boy. Why should you believe us simple Eyes to be capable of such a miracle?"
"I-I, well, see, I am only a-acting in order to-to repay a debt, see? The-the girl Lyra - ah, Mistress Lyra - wished to talk to you." Val faltered under her stare. In his weakness, M suddenly saw the tight, rusty locks and chains on his merlot-colored door drop to the ground inaudibly; she took the opportunity and thrust it open, though the doorknob nearly burned her hand, and she jumped into the void. I agreed to help her, did I not? I didn't have to necessarily put her in the right direction... she'd be better off seeing those wretched Mousen about their black magic, if not -
But M made the mistake of leaving before he had finished, thinking she had discovered the real solution. "I can't believe you!" she shouted accusingly at the man, who was backing up with his hands out in front of him. "You were just - Y-you were just leading me on for nothing! You knew the Eyes couldn't help at all!"
"N-n-not necessar-necessarily -" he stuttered.
"Oh, shut up!" M was shaking as badly as he was, though in rage instead of fear. She was only grateful she hadn't wasted as much time as she could have following him blindly... M turned around and ran, ignoring Val shouting after her; she ran until she practically tripped out of the cave, so out of breath she was. She didn't need that self-absorbed airhead any longer, anyhow, for he had let what she assumed to be crucial information slip. It was the Mousen she needed to see.
M went the opposite direction from where she and Val had come not so long ago, thinking he wouldn't expect her to go into unfamiliar territory. But she was feeling a little more daring than usual, with adrenaline coursing through her blood, and so she didn't have a second thought about it.
Perhaps it was fate, for it seemed so unlikely, that M walked directly into the furry black chest of a tall Mouse woman. Squealing in surprise, she leapt away from her and had nearly begun tearing off again when she realized this was exactly who she needed to speak with.
"Ahem," the Mouse coughed, blatantly agitated. Her beady black eyes examined the girl from head to toe. After seeing a Mouse kill Isaac, M couldn't be blamed for being uneasy. She would have felt angry, too, if she didn't know very well that never were you to assume that all members of a species with one bad person were automatically just as awful as him. Still, being just a child, something inside M told her she should hurt that Mouse like that other one hurt her best friend. Morals were not exactly at the front of her mind.
"Wha' are ya doin' 'ere, Wedhn?" the Mouse snarled in a low, gravelly voice, her ears and mouth twitching. "Shouldn' ya be, I don' know, murderin' children?"
"I am a child!" M said, horrified. "I would never!" But looking into the woman's thoughts quite incidentally, she could tell she had reason for talking to her like that.
The Mouse turned her back to her and started down the tunnel, apparently deciding where she had been heading initially was not worthwhile. M chased after her, eager to see if Val was right, though naturally empathetic towards the images flashing from the creature's brain to her own. Unfortunately, M was more concerned about her own needs then what that Mouse had already suffered. Then again, perhaps it was not such a terrible thing for her to be self-centered then.
"Oh, ya'd think so, wouldn' ya," she growled, "ya mus' be new." A picture of a very young grey Mouse - bloodied and beaten, cowering from where he had been tossed inside his family's cave in a crumpled heap - revealed itself to M in a startlingly sharp memory. With a bit of another shock she realized that the little Mouse must have been Howell, and she gasped,
"You're his mother!"
"Whose? 'owell's? I can' read minds such as the likes o' you folk, ya know," she snapped. "Leave me alone and don' be touchin' me boy or any o' the others, ya 'ear?" The woman made to speed onwards, but M caught her by her tattered sleeve.
"Please," she whispered, and her eyes must have told her story as clearly as the Mouse's had, for the woman's shoulders instantly relaxed.
"Ah," she sighed, "I'm sorry, my girl; ya 'ave been tormented as well." M nodded, biting her lip in desperate hope of stopping tears of grief, and the Mouse gestured to her. "I will take ya to see me fellows abou' the magic, bu' I make no promises, mind you! I know nothin' of the magic shtuffs meself."
M bit her lip and nodded gratefully, too moved to voice her thanks. Evil? She knew Howell, and now she'd met his mother; how could she think Mousen were evil at all? M wanted to smack herself for thinking something so cruel of the entire species, her only pathetic excuse being that Val had quite vocalized his opinion about their villainous ways. So the girl grabbed at the lady Mouse's long, thin outstretched fingers and let herself be pulled along, assuming that there was a very good reason for avoiding being seen.
She wondered what would happen if Val found her again now.
Once what seemed like thousands of beautiful gemstones embedded in the walls had been passed by, M was ushered down a particularly dark, obscure tunnel that was hardly noticeable as the crossroads were being approached. The shadows creeped up on the entrance, sliding over her shoulders like a cool, velvet cape as she neared still, so much so that she expected to be an unwilling participant in a horror film. "We have to go in here?" M asked nervously, resisting the pull just slightly.
"Yes." The Mouse did not seem at all malevolent, perhaps only a little grim and sad. The word of confirmation stood out with confidence.
M smiled a very small, disbelieving smile. "I wanted to say... I can hardly believe some of my luck in all the other bad luck going on."
"Wha' do ya mean?"
"Well, just that... I'm saying... A lot of the people I've run into lately have been so kind. What are the chances of that? I have Kenji, Joshie, Kasa, Howell, Guinea, the Sorrowturtle, you, even Asagwara. They kinda... I mean, I guess they kinda help with losing Isaac." M's shoulders trembled and she sniffled.
"Oh, dear now, there ain' no such thing as luck," the Mouse said softly, touching the girl's cheek. "I know i' may be 'ard to believe someone like meself, or some o' the other peoples ya met, would be so quick to wan' to help ya. Bu' ya also go' to remember 'ow some o' us, some o' them, can relate to ya. We gone through much o' the same garbage, 'aven' we? And I don' wan' to be givin' any sor' o' lengthy dramatic speech, now, so, I'll remind ya also that ya 'aven' met all good peoples. Valen. Duygu. The Eyes. Many o' the Mousen, I'm ashamed to say." Her coal black eyes were dim and filled with dread as well as a distant longing. "Ah, i' used to be differen', i' did." But she spoke no more and urged M farther into the darkness.
As so, so many of the walks M had taken recently with others had been, it was silent for a while. Eventually she couldn't stand the quiet anymore and figured talking might ease her discomfort; it was coming from more than just the eerie lack of sound, too. "What's your name? I haven't asked. I'm M."
"Oh, I've 'eard abou' ya from me boy already. 'Owell feels so guilty, ya know, bu' I tell him not to be if ya don' so mind tha'." For a moment a flash of hatred glittered in the Mouse's eyes in the low light, but it passed as quickly as the jewels in the main corridors did. "Ah... my name's Amahrhyllis. Amahrhyllis 'are."
"Amahrhyllis Hare? That's beautiful." M grinned again, but of course it wasn't visible. The Mouse was opening her mouth to respond when another of her species ran right into the both of them as M had done before, and there was a plethora of squeaking in various pitches before the confusion settled.
"Amah?" a deep voice rumbled. It was odd coming from a Mouse person, even if he was a tall, white-furred male dressed in stained and ripped cloth.
"Nihkoh?"
"Who's this?" M questioned. She came protectively to Amahrhyllis' side by instinct, in case this Mouse was a bad one. What she did know was that this was not the one who had murdered Isaac, and that was the only restraint she had from jumping him right there.
Amah blinked rapidly. She released M's fingers to reach out to the white Mouse, and he took her paw to kiss sweetly. "It's Nihkohdemus," she smiled, "me mate, and 'owell's father."
"Oh, aw," said M uncertainly, for that was what she could think of to say. "What a lovely coincidence?"
"No, not a coincidence." Nihkoh chuckled darkly and now reached out his own paw for M to shake. His hand was tough and callused, covered in scars, bruises, dried blood, and least alarmingly, fur. It felt so hard and yet so natural and warm in M's hand, and she knew somehow this Mouse was a very good man indeed.
"You planned to meet?" The couple nodded, so M, feeling a tad intrusive, apologized; but her apologies were refused.
"It's jus' tha' i' 'asn' been safe o' the late," Amah explained. "'owell's been stayin' wif yer folks, Nihkoh's had to stay wif the men, and I've been wif the women meself. We ain' allowed to 'ave the males and females together no more, so we ain' breedin'." She hissed, strangely like a cat. "Duygu and the like think we jus' common street mice, livin' to 'ave 'undreds of babies. I' ain' true."
"What happens if you get caught?" M whispered, shooting anxious glances around the area. It was abandoned asides from the trio, but she still had that prickle at the back of her neck, the one that made her hairs stand on end, telling her someone was always watching.
"Well, 'ere in Fortunia, the rules don' make no sense. If ya ge' caught wif yer mate unsupervised, ya ge' trapped wif 'im in a cave till ya starve to death."
Nihkoh snorted. "Oh, yeah, tha' doesn' sound like a dream come true, does it, Amah?"
"Oh, none of this makes sense!" groaned M. "Whoever came up with all this, this whole - this whole... system... is an idiot! An idiot!"
"Ya mean whoever made up Fortunia first? Mm, I suppose I'd 'ave to agree 'eartily wif ya there." Amahrhyllis frowned. All three of them fell silent, and the two Mousen's ears perked up, swiveling around, listening. All four ears ceased movement at the exact same moment.
"Who's there?" barked Nihkoh.
And there, slowly, reluctantly, a third Mouse slunk out of the creeping shadows. This was all happening much too fast for M.
She was a petite girl, with silvery fur almost as long as her delicate fingers, and her eyes were wide as moons. She had her hands on her ears, twisting them guiltily downwards towards her face in a hopefully painless way. The Mouse looked no more mean or nasty than the other two before M, and so she relaxed. Still, there was the initial fear of being eaten or having her eyes ripped out that now rested in her pounding heart.
"It's jus' you, Selah, thank God!" Amah scampered over to the tiny Mouse to embrace her. She put an arm around the girl's shoulder and looked happily towards M. "Mistress Lyra, this is Selah, our very own magician."
She waved nervously, avoiding eye contact.
"You do real magic?" M immediately knew it was a stupid question, her face flushing, but Selah shrugged.
"I suppose. Why?" Her gaze darted around the three other occupants of the tunnel. "I-I'm not in trouble fer spyin', am I? I didn' mean to, ma'am! Hones'!" The little Mouse clutched earnestly at her heart.
But Amah and Nihkoh were shaking their heads, now. "O' course not," Nihkohdemus told her. "Yer jus' a child still, yer bored. Amah, did you wan' her?"
"Yeah," Amahrhyllis said, "yeah, yeah, Mistress and I need her help."
.......
It was an understatement to say M was astonished to enter a dark, damp cave to see hundreds of glossy black eyes staring at her. Perhaps she should have been used to such unnerving things by then, but she wasn't.
"The cave for the women and the girls," Amah told M.
She had never seen so many mice in her life; in fact, she hadn't ever seen a mouse in real life, unless you counted the four Mousen she knew prior to entering that room. M found it difficult to comprehend how so many poor Mousen could be crammed into such a tiny space. Their bodies writhed against each other as they squirmed, sweating and panting in excess.
"It's horrible."
Selah grabbed Amah's and M's hands and swung their arms very gently. She's not more than a child, M thought empathetically, squeezing the girl's hand back. She's worse off than me, having lived here all her life, probably. She shuddered at the thought of being packed in a room like sardines with dozens of other humans, not being able to sit or lie down, or see her male friends or relatives. How could Duygu do something so wretched to them?
Val. M scowled at the image of him, recalling the story Dehllah had told her about when he'd arrived. That must be it. One little Mouse bites off his finger and eventually the whole race is punished for the crime. Howell didn't even mean to!
"There's more male than female Mousen, too," Nihkoh added gratingly, clenching his fists. "Ya would no' wan' to see that cave, Mistress. It's a good thing yer only needin' the magic, 'cause only the ladies 'ave it, and only some of 'em yet. Selah is a Talent." He put a white-furred hand proudly on her shoulder, and she smiled shakily up at him. M felt another surge of a need to protect, as if she were an older sister.
"A Talent? Is that what you call the Mousen with magic?"
"Yeah."
Finally, the moving, whispering crowd of Mousen in front of the four of them seemed to have chosen a speaker. An elderly brown Mouse, her wrinkled arms and legs and hands defiled by angry red scars frighteningly fresh in appearance, made her way up. She lifted her hands and the conversation dwindled away.
"'Ello, Nihkohdemus, Amahrhyllis, and Selah. We are 'appy to see yer safe return. Please explain why the Wedhn child is wif us." The old lady spoke slowly and calmly, but M saw a spark of dislike in her glassy eyes that quite mirrored the one she had seen in Amah's. Neither she, nor the other Mousen, trusted her.
Amah bowed respectfully. "Ah, Elder, the Wedhn girl 'as suffered as we 'ave! And she has been kind to me son, 'owell. She needs 'elp from a Talent to 'eal 'er friend."
"She dares to come crawlin' to the Mousen fer assistance?" said the Elder indignantly, the wrinkled skin above her eyes raising high. "She thinks she can steal our magic for 'erself, as if Duygu 'as not already taken almost everythin'? We are lucky Selah 'as not been discovered! We are lucky they have only taken me flesh!" She extended her arms higher to show the wounds that were just visible in the darkness.
"Not lucky, blessed," Amah whispered. Nihkoh put his free arm around her shoulder.
"They kill the Talents?" M's eyes widened with horror, thinking of how many young Mousen must have been born with magic, only to have their lives quickly snatched away.
"Two-'undred and sixty-three," the Elder murmured, and as she did, the crowd stirred behind her. She raised her voice, louder and louder, as she continued, and croaked, "Two-'undred and sixty-three female Mousen born as Talents, me friends! Two-hundred and sixty deaths by Duygu's claws in the past few centuries. That Wedhn -" she spat out the word as if it were a mouthful of gravel - "is wif them!"
"I'm not!" M clasped her hands together and shook her head urgently, pleading, "No, I swear, I'd never be, please help me!"
But the Elder was growing more furious by the second, as if M's very presence was an insult to her. Perhaps it really was. "Ya lie like the lot of 'em!" She glared piercingly at Amah. "'Ow could ya be deceived so easily, and let 'er see our Talents! Now the only one she doesn' know abou' to tell Duygu is -"
The Mousen behind her, the great swarm, shushed her quickly, the eyes of the young now wide in fear and the older of them narrowed in hatred as they stared at M. She wanted to protest, wanted to make them see she wasn't evil, but just listening to them...
Maybe I'm as bad as them.
M gave up any hope she'd had of asking for the Mousen magic to bring Isaac to life again then, for she knew it was hopeless. They wouldn't listened to reason, and they had every right not to. She was a Wedhn, and to them that meant something very, very wicked. She understood, because - and ruefully, at that - she felt similarly about the Mousen themselves.
"Let's go, Amah," she murmured in the lady's big black ear, but the Mouse only looked at her.
She realized too late she had lost two allies she had made.
"Kill 'er now and they'll never find out!" the Elder commanded, and suddenly the crowd erupted, filling the small cave with a terrible din. All M could hear were squeaks and squeals; all she could feel were heavy paws and dangerously sharp claws upon her skin, grabbing at her arms, attempting attack. It had happened so fast it seemed unreal, but it was quite the opposite.
Once the girl had come to her senses and felt the pain, she screamed the highest, most bloodcurdling scream she could summon from her throat, and found herself being yanked roughly out of the room. A few Mousen still in hot pursuit of her turned to follow her being dragged down the tunnel, only to scrabble on the stone and slam face-first into the walls. There was a sickening crack, followed by a crunch.
"'Urry," squeaked a little voice from somewhere near M's waist. She was too deeply in shock to look and see who her savior was. What about the magic? she thought desperately, trying to think up a brilliant solution. What about the magic, what about Isaac? Val couldn't have lied in his thoughts on purpose, no, that's ridiculous, this must be the way! But the Mousen despise me... M's train of thought derailed as she was led more quickly still away from the cave, even as her vision grew cloudy and her balance unsteady. She could feel the hot scratches on her bare limbs, some deep, some like mere paper cuts, but the pain was there. Blood was trickling wetly down her forehead, dripping into her eye, though she couldn't remember a Mouse touching her face.
M blinked, failing to clear her vision. She slurred, "Bey trrrrieb ta killl be," as the blood on her cheeks and upper lip filled her mouth with a dreadful, tangy taste. She spat it out.
"Yes," her rescuer said solemnly, "they do tha' sometimes."
The world was quiet for a moment, and when M next opened her eyes, it was like they had been transported. She recognized the room immediately.
"Whabbb?" she asked
Her companion had vanished. M was curled up at the foot of a statue; her fingers were numb, but the throbbing pain from the murder attempt on her had nearly disappeared. When she looked to check on how bad the wounds were, she found none at all. Miraculously it seemed, they had healed themselves.
M got up, pushing herself to her feet with her hands, and glanced around. She was in the Rock, she knew. And, it so happened, she had been at the foot of the one and only Erhiaganoma Nenge.
"That's yer friend, righ'?" a voice from behind her said. "Sorry I took so long healin' yer wounds. Ya been asleep a' leas' a day, I think. Wen' by real speedy fer ya, didn' i'?" M spun to face her, her heart pounding as madly as if she were being confronted by Duygu rather than the one who had saved her, only to find it was her most recent ally.
Selah stood there, quivering, very small in the vast space. M's gaze traveled to her fingers, which were glowing dimly.
"Selah," breathed M, relieved. She raised her eyebrows. "You... you didn't turn on me too."
"Of course no'! I'm a Talent, one of the few and rare, and I know ya weren' lyin' abou' yer trouble. Elder knew i' too. Bu' the thing is abou' the Mousen... they're real hungry, Mistress, and they have a likin' for the human folk. So she lied abou' ya lyin' to feed her people. Don' be mad a' 'er!" The young girl's ears and nose twitching anxiously.
"How could I not be mad?" M exclaimed. She pointed at herself. "I don't want to be eaten! That's j-just - that's just what happened to my Isaac, t-t-that one of you made him into a Happy Meal!" Her eyes were already watering, thinking about Isaac. It hadn't been so long at all and it felt like an eternity. Would she ever hear his voice again?
Selah cowered under M's rage. "B-b-b-b-bu' I though' ya m-mean' he were a s-s-s-stat-statue!"
Her expression softened. Don't yell at her! she thought angrily. She's a girl like you who's been through crap like you have, plus she's got freaking magic, so just clear things up and she can fix it! "I'm really sorry," M apologized, genuinely. "I - I didn't mean to shout. This statue is my friend's dad, a-actually. My friend was Isaac, and he was killed by a Mouse a few days ago.
The little Mouse stopped trembling. She straightened up, scampering closer to M, and looked at her with her head tilted, her eyes puzzled. "Wai', wha'?" She frowned, sympathizing with M, but she then cast her gaze downwards to examine her hands. They were still glowing.
"He was..." M choked. "Uh, he was... killed." She rubbed her nose until she'd created a pink, rough dry patch on her skin. She didn't care.
Selah opened and closed her mouth several times before answering. "Um... Mistress, I canno' 'elp ya."
"What?"
"Mistress, I canno' raise the dead. The Mousen Talents canno' do tha'. It's impossible for us. No one can raise the dead 'ere."
"What?" M couldn't hold back her tears of shock and horror much longer.
Selah wrung her hands nervously, keeping her eyes trained on Erhiaganoma's broad, cold stone nose. "Talents do regular magic. We can do cloakin', reversin' the Scarfe effects - one o' the reasons Sir Valen 'ates us so much, I think - and some other useful things, but we canno' raise the dead anymore than you can. I... I'm sorry."
M inhaled deeply, focusing on keeping herself together, and exhaled again. Selah helped you. Be grateful. It's not her fault Isaac's de - gone, and it's not her fault she can't save him. Then why did Val think about the Mousen being able to help?!
M couldn't bring herself to utter words for a few minutes. She stood there awkwardly with Selah, thinking harder than she'd ever had before, until something came to her. Something that had to be really useful here in Fortunia, and that was someone who had been here a long time.
Not Val. Not Duygu. Not Howell.
M's heart swelled with a strange happiness at the idea that was playing out in her head. Maybe she couldn't save Isaac, but not everything was about him. There were other people in need.
She could save Asagwara in more ways than one.
"It's okay, Selah," M said finally. She smiled warmly at the young Mouse, who smiled uncertainly in return. "Thank you. Thank you for rescuing me from being eaten. That is quite enough for me to be in your debt forever, but if you wouldn't mind too greatly, there're two last miracles I'd like you to perform."
"No' raisin' the dead?"
"Not raising the dead."
"Then that's a deal."
M, offering no explanation, sat down on the floor again and crossed her legs. Next, she closed her eyes, traveling into the dark depths of her mind. There, she soon found several doors to choose from before her : one squash-colored, with what appeared to be a new golden twisty handle; another was merlot, chained even more tightly than it had been and guarded by a large dog made out of broken clocks, who barked at M as she passed; a third was an odd green; then there was a golden one a bit farther off, distanced from the others, with a few rusty locks and bolts in place; and there was the last.
It was silver, a very familiar silver indeed. Unlike most of the doors, it had no sort of security at the moment, as if the owner of it was, perhaps, asleep, or at peace. This didn't seem like a good reason to leave your door unlocked at all, but M figured she could enter anyways.
Inside, as she could expect, she found the typical black chasm. She had vague memories of the dreams and nightmares she'd had about this place, and couldn't imagine how the person they had come from could live with them so vividly every day. M shuddered at the recollection of the strange, white man who now so constantly visited her in her sleep. He seemed familiar... but her mind was off, and she couldn't think of how she knew him.
What was most important was getting to Asagwara Nenge.
M stepped several yards into the room, away from the silver door, and breathed it in. She tasted memories. What did memories taste like, exactly? Here, they weren't so fantastic; what M tasted in the air was bitter, sad, and chilly, like having a lemon on a park bench alone in the middle of winter - with no clothes on.
She wasn't skilled at describing things.
M shoved her hands into her pockets, growing colder now, and grinned. "I'm caught between a rock and a hard place," she announced, and returned to the reality.
"'Ello again," Selah greeted, befuddled. "Is this some sort o' Wedhn ritual?"
"Just talking to a friend." M lifted her chin high to look up at Erhiaganoma, who did not look back. He was as empty and grey as she had ever seen him. What was he like when he was living in the human world? She thought about how much Kasa must miss him, and how much Asagwara must yearn to meet him, and realized that getting him back was just as good as rescuing Isaac, because it would be making two other people happy instead.
"Would ya like me to reverse 'im?" whispered Selah. "I think I can do i'. I ain' done i' before, but Mama always said I could someday. I could... save someone."
She nodded. "You already have." Selah was glowing in the face, now, as well, delighted by M's gratitude towards her.
The Mouse, her great shimmering black eyes alight with hope and in them reflected the glorious strands of gold spinning from out of her long fingertips, lifted her hands.