--------------------
Jenessa had heard nothing from the voices for more than an hour. She
now had cause to hope she was recovering and would hear no more from
them at all. But her relief and hope were edged with disappointment.
So, after all— as she'd expected— none of the
things from the visions had any reality. Reality included only the
town, her people, the forests and animals. There were no mysteries to
explore. Jenessa patted the flest, rubbing the place between the its
horns, as the animals liked. She'd ridden to an outcrop above the
lean-to, and looked out across the forest, back the way they'd come.
She watched a rider pass amid the trees, following the same subtle path
she'd followed. She couldn't as yet see the rider's face, or the color
of his crest beneath the wide-brimmed hat. But she recognized the red
and brown mottled shirt, as well as the shaggy-coated black flest he
rode. Erel.
Jenessa couldn't help but feel pleased that he'd come searching for
her. If it were anyone else, she'd disappear with Meera deeper into the
forest. But childhood memories, and more recent ones, gave her hope
that Erel could be trusted.
After going back to the shelter, and looking in to see that Meera still
napped, Jenessa rode out past the stream and waited. Only moments
before Erel rode down from the wooded hillside, and into clear view,
Magda's voice spoke suddenly form inside Jenessa's head.
~Can you see where I am? Are you nearby?~
Jenessa had not yet replied to Magda or Kadzin. But not replying took
more and more of her will. She hoped that Erel's
presence would lead her away from the voices' temptation. Though, once
she could see his expression, it brought her little
reassurance.
"Jenessa, where's the child?"
"I've heard friendlier greetings from you. Meera's sleeping, in a
temporary shelter I built."
"Well, excuse me if I'm not in the best of moods. I've been riding
since daybreak. Do you have no idea of the commotion you've caused? It
took a great deal of wheedling from your family to persuade the
lawkeepers to let me find you instead of an official delegation. Lura
has everyone in an uproar. Jen, why would you bring a sick child here,
away from her home?"
Jenessa sighed, took a drink, then held out her water flask to Erel.
"I have water. What I want are answers."
"You're the only person I'd trust with these answers. I would have had
little trouble in hiding where we'd be very difficult to find. By the
way, you might remind Lura that she left her daughter in my
care—
so she could spend the night with her latest
boyfriend. And it's far from the first time."
Erel nodded; then he threw one leg over the saddle and jumped to the
ground. After stretching and bending, he said, "Let's walk for a bit.
I'm hardly the rider you are."
Jenessa slid down from the saddle, and drew the flest along by its
reins. "I'm grateful for your coming here. I need for you to explain to
Lura, to everyone, that I have reason to think Meera's illness may be
contagious. A few days ago, I had the same symptoms."
"But you seem fine now. Even if it is contagious, it must not be so
terrible. Unless Meera . . ." "Meera's in no danger. At least I don't
think she is. But there are oddities — that might
create danger of a different kind. Erel, if I tell you more, you must
promise to tell no one."
"How can I promise that until I know what you're talking about?"
He gently grasped her shoulder, and stood waiting, until she met his
eyes. "I'll do the best I can to help you, Jen. I think you know that."
Jenessa nodded, then motioned for him to sit on a wide, flat rock. She
sank down beside him, and gestured to the left.
"Our shelter is up there. I don't think you should be close
to
Meera, while she has fever. This fever is not like any other. It brings
visions and voices, things that seem very real. I knew Meera could not
keep from speaking about them while she was ill. I don't need to remind
you what actions the lawkeepers take against people they judge
`unstable'."
Erel gave a half nod and pursed his mouth— as he often did to
show he was giving thought to what someone said. After a few moments he
replied. "I understand the need for caution. But maybe you're
over-reacting. You and Meera were temporarily ill; you didn't
deliberately bring on an intoxicated state. Though most lawkeepers are
from the conservative factions, I doubt many of them seriously believe
the legends of shapechanging demons. Anyway, what's happened
to you doesn't fit into the legends very well."
Jenessa took her folded note pad from her pocket and opened it, handing
it to him. "I've written quite a few of the phrases, and made drawings
of what I saw, keeping them in the order I experienced them."
"Why would you do that?" Then he looked at the page, turned it, kept
turning, then moved back through them a second time. Jenessa watched
Erel and listened to Magda who was growing more agitated as she argued
again with Kadzin.
"Jen, I assumed you meant something like vivid dreams. But what you've
written is too coherent for dreaming, yet too bizarre to be anything
else! If Meera's experiences are anything like this, I think you were
right to take her away."
"Erel, she hears exactly what I do, at the same instant."
"That's not possible. I mean . . .it shouldn't be possible."
Her eyes met and held his. "I know that," she said.
"But Jen, wait — you just said that she sees and hears what
you do. But you don't still have the fever, do you?"
"No. And that should mean I'm not endangering you."
"That's not what I meant to ask. Are you still experiencing . . .?"
"Oh yes. It's somehow become more intimate in the past few hours. As if
they're looking through my eyes. They're seeing you, Erel, right now."
"By all the Holy World. This is so much worse than I thought. You may
not ever be able to come back. Jen, we may lose each other! Unless . .
.unless I stay with you here, or wherever it's safe for you to go."
Jenessa couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. But then
she stood and walked a few paces from him. "That's exactly what I
wanted you to say! But no. You can't give up everything for
me—
your family and friends, the apprenticeship with Leindre.
And you're not as much at home in the woods as I am."
"But maybe it won't be forever, just until you've regained . . ."
"Stability. That's what you mean."
"Wellness. You're not well."
"Erel, I've never felt better, or stronger. And the strangeness doesn't
seem about to go away. I think you should go back now. It might be best
for you to tell them you couldn't find us. I can make sure no one else
does."
"Jen, I always thought we'd be together, make our home
together—like everyone does."
"But I'm not like everyone. Not any more. And I might as well tell you
what I'm thinking. Do you remember when we were children —
we'd
make up stories
— the kind of stories we couldn't let anyone overhear? Until,
one
day your brother did overhear, and brought all kinds of hell down on
us."
Erel's mouth quirked into a wry smile. "How could I forget? I wasn't
allowed to talk to you
for four seasons, and had to do endless chores."
"But the stories— do you remember those? How we imagined
there
were people living at the bottom of the lake, and in the night sky,
next to the stars."
"I don't . . .all right, maybe I do, if I try. But what . . .Oh, so
that's what you were writing! You were just making things up."
The relief in his expression brought tears to her eyes. She quickly
brushed them away.
"That's not what I meant. What I've seen and heard is beyond anything I
could imagine. And it seems more real by the minute. Maybe it
is—
real. Maybe there are people who look like the ones I drew, living in
other worlds than ours, and they have shelters —
ships—
that move them from place to place."
"Jen, you know I'm not superstitious. But it's not good to say things
like that, to question the holiness of our reality."
She saw his glance flick past her, to the surrounding woodland. "No,
you're not superstitious. But you think that maybe, just maybe, some
demon has gotten into me, and that any minute it's going to make the
forest break into tiny bits and change into something else." She
stepped closer and held out her hand for the notebook. Then she turned
away. "Good-bye, Erel," she said without looking back; then she mounted
the flest and rode swiftly up the hillside.
By the time she arrived at the lean-to she felt more angry than sad,
and the tears merely blurred her vision, without falling and making a
nuisance of themselves. Meera peered up at her.
"They're inside me now."
Jenessa nodded. "I know just what you mean."
"They're in some kind of trouble, and want us to do something. They're
scared, Jen."
"I know that too."
"Then, shouldn't we . . .?"
Jenessa sighed. "I suppose we should."
She gathered the bags and re-rolled the blankets while Meera nibbled at
a lunch of dried meat and buns. Then, just as Jenessa finished tying
the last of the bundles to the flest's saddle, she heard a noise behind
her and turned.
Erel, wearing his floppy hat, leading his shaggy black flest, stepped
through the trees. "Do you two mind if I tag along?"
Jenessa smiled. It was a moment before she could say, "Well, you'll
have to be ready for a longer ride than you're used to."
