29th Illost, 998 NE
The shark-like mask didn’t allow her smile to carry, which was just as well, as she wasn’t smiling. She managed to nod her head politely in parting, though, which seemed to be enough for the woman, who nodded back. She wasn’t smiling, either, and Glimmermere couldn’t blame her. Living alone, with a kid with brickblood, no future on the cards for either of them? Listening day and night to Elaset’s mewls of agony that only stopped when the arch-druid visited, and then only for a brief time? She remembered hearing the moans through the walls the first time she came here – now, as the door was locked behind her, Glimmermere stood outside in the frigid morning air and shuddered. It was something of a ritual for her by this, her eighth visit; the wave of thankfulness that it was over washed through her body, tempered by the lash of guilt, knowing that it wasn’t over for Wenya, wasn’t over for Elaset… Wouldn’t be over – not until the end came.
She sighed, shifted to raven-form, and made her way towards her next patient.
Where are you, Nighteye? she wondered, and not for the eighth or eightieth time, either. According to Timesnatcher, this had been his job. Why don’t you come have it back?
She felt angry, and she was trying to redirect it at him now.
Stupid, she berated herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She didn’t even want to think it, because she knew why she was angry about the whole thing and she didn’t want to look that anger in the eye. Didn’t want to think the thought –
– he was killed and I wasn’t there, none of us were there to stop it –
She cawed, a series of shrill, warbling bleats that rang out across the city.
She tried not to think, not to feel, as she reached Blackbrook in Sticktown, doing her best to compose herself. He would see right through her, even in his weakened condition. But there was nothing she could fix her eye on to distract herself. Whichever way she looked there was the ever-present morning smog, and where she could see through it there was nothing but filth, destitution – hardly a spectacle to raise her spirits.
When she reached Laithor’s apartment she noticed some kids were lounging against the wooden walkway’s railing, not six feet from his door. Typically she would just shift back and use her key to open the door, but that wouldn’t work in this situation – not if she didn’t want to draw attention to the ramshackle dwelling that belonged to the arch-wizard.
She became a beetle before anyone noticed the bird lingering on the wooden span above the teenagers, then made her way down to the apartment door, dipping her fat little body into the breeze and curling around behind the kids to land on the floor.
“Yer gonna ‘af to step up next time, Dolber. Yer new to the gang, ya see? Next knifin’s yours. Ya doan wanna do it, yer’ll be found lyin’ necks to ‘em – s’ the way it is, laddie.”
She was ant-shaped and halfway through the crack under the door when she halted. The Lowtowner’s voice sent chills up her antennae.
Turning back, she regarded them as much with her senses as her eyes.
Children. Still children. Twelve, thirteen – even fourteen was pushing it. The differences were greater at this age than they would soon become.
What are children doing talking like this?
The reply came:
“I… I get it, Ti, I really do. I’ll step up. I’ll do whatever it takes. You won’t regret taking me on.”
The youngster’s reedy voice was steeped in equal measures of enthusiasm and nausea.
She tapped her foot, thinking. There weren’t many nasty insects around, but there were lots of rats. Big, well-fed rats, festooned with lice.
Bringing a hundred or more of them up out of the broken places in the boards and over the edge of the walkway to surge around the kids’ feet was simple enough.
Changing into one of the rodents and shrieking at the gang of wannabes in Mundic was even simpler.
“If a single one of you knifes someone, you will have me to answer to! I’ll eat your eyes, Ti!”
The kids scattered, wailing, and she had the other rats follow them to be sure they were properly terrified. She doubted her threat would work, really, but at least it’d give this ‘Dolber’ punk a chance to get out of whatever crew he was being initiated into, an excuse not to show up the next time he was called on. She could only hope her intrusion into the conversation brought about a better future than if she’d done nothing, or cost her patient her attentions by taking even greater preventative steps. To have a diviner’s gift…
Yune be with him, she prayed.
She shifted back into her natural shape once she was in Laithor’s apartment, and paused a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom before moving to the bedroom. She turned the handle as quietly as she could manage, and peered within.
The candles had gone out and the curtains were still drawn, but as she pushed on the door a new source of illumination, gentle white-silver radiance, started to fill the room.
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It was without surprise that she noticed he was awake, staring at her. His long dark hair was unkempt, his pale, gentle face sunken with illness. He sat up, letting the bed-covers fall down, exposing the slenderness of his hairy chest and arms.
All that not-yet-decaying flesh.
And Yune be with him too.
“You’re up,” she said brightly, reaching up to remove her mask. “How bothersome. I suppose I shall have to fetch you something now, shan’t I?”
“Leafcloak was better at this than you,” he complained, an only-slightly-sad smile on his face.
“That’s hardly the proper way to address me!” she flared, tossing the mask on the foot of the bed. “I come here, of my own free will and out of my own free time, to –“
“To interrupt the youngest gang-members in Blackbrook when they’re giving me all their secrets for free, yeah.” He was still smiling.
“Now now,” she chided, “those in my care aren’t to expend their energies trying to work. Please, do permit me to handle your little gang problem…“
“You expect me to believe you understand what’s going on here?” he asked sceptically. “We’re basically bein’ invaded by North Lowtown in this neighbourhood – they’ve taken the wane trade, and there’s this new inkatra stuff –“
“Laithor!” She put her hands on her hips.
His smile faded. “I just don’t get it, Glimmer. What’re you doing here all the time? I know, I’m dying – I know, it sucks. Believe me, I know.” He shook his head, and she saw the wetness in his own eyes reflecting the pale light he’d conjured into the air. “But you’re a champion. You’ve got better things to be doing with your time than sitting by an ‘old man’s’ bedside…”
“You know I don’t really think you’re that old,” she said off-handedly.
He chuckled. “Older than you.”
She just cocked her head at him, thinking about it. She didn’t know her own age, precisely.
“Well, you’ve healed me – you should know, right?”
“Yeah – ish. But how old are you exactly?”
“You want to know my age, you know my name –“
The pained expression that crossed her face was only half-feigned. “I told you –“
“You can’t remember your own name, yeah – I remember. How perfect.”
“I…“
She swallowed the meaningless sounds. The same question, the eternal question ringing through her mind like the Mourning Bells:
Who am I? Who am I, really?
He stopped himself from pushing; she could see it in his eyes. His expression became marginally more serious: his brows raised slightly, the crooked smile on his lips that’d returned while he teased her fading once more.
“I’m thirty-four,” he said at last, as though by way of a peace offering.
“I… I’m… older,” she managed to finish her sentence.
“Really?”
“Only by a bit.”
“Who are you, Glimmermere?” His voice was suddenly soft, husky, and she jolted to hear his words. “I don’t mean your name. I’ll call you whatever you want. I know you’re not highborn – I just know it –”
She realised she’d dropped the accent any number of times in the last minute.
“But – you can speak to me, can’t you? To a…” he swallowed audibly “… a dying man?”
She stood there, staring down at him, feeling the pulse of the attraction she felt, knowing it couldn’t lead anywhere, couldn’t be a foundation-stone for her personality.
She’d worn so many identities, but none of them were really her. Her ability to change shape was a dark mirror for her soul, always in motion. She’d always tried to be what others wanted her to be, needed her to be. When she hadn’t done that, she’d gone into the sea and left everything behind. Upon her return to the world of air and sky she’d donned the robe of a champion, portraying the foppish youngster, channelling the part of her that just never wanted to grow up. It was a defence mechanism and she knew it – hurting people wasn’t something she could do, the nameless self that was the core of her being – but it was something Glimmermere could do, the creature born out of the sea and a fight to the death with a murderous entity.
She couldn’t enter into a relationship with this stricken man lying here in the bed. If she did, his death would only weaken her further, fracture the mirror. She needed to be strong.
And yet the truth bubbled up inside her and could no longer be kept down. Like the drowned fire-mountains, it would escape, crack her from within if she didn’t open, release it.
She couldn’t stop the quivering that started in her forearms, her knees – she knew it was coming –
“Tell you what,” he said thickly, “just get the fortify set out, eh? I’ll give you another ass-whooping, and you can –“
“I left you!” she burst out. “You want to know why I’m here?” She fell forwards onto the bed, wringing her hands and looking up at him pleadingly through her tears. “I left you, there, and I – I left myself there, I left Glimmermere… I was so, so scared, after Va- after the statue came alive – and you were gone, and I didn’t know what to do! But Fangmoon, oh, she carried on, didn’t she? How? How does she do it? And n-now, now Nighteye’s just gone off and it’s been two weeks, and I spoke to Killstop and she said she doesn’t think we’re ever going to find him except as a headless corpse, and Feychilde didn’t believe her but everyone else seemed to agree – and this whole Dreamlaughter mess, and the brickblood girl – the heretics are gonna attack in the next few days –“
“Stop,” he said, and she halted. “You’re taking on too many burdens, old friend. Come on. Come here.”
She’d had her head down; he shuffled forwards, and embraced her awkwardly.
It still felt nice. She could sense the weakness, the trembling in his limbs that was only partially due to his horrible affliction. He wasn’t wearing much, if anything, under the quilt.
“I told them not to say anything to you,” she breathed, “and here I am, telling you everything…”
“It’s okay.” He touched her hair lightly with his fingers. “I know that you’re missing Nighteye – I know you regret what happened in Zadhal – but you have to let me tell you this. You’re not to blame. You were right to return home. If you want my forgiveness you have it but you have to understand that I don’t even think it’s warranted. And who except me is the injured party here, exactly?”
“I could’ve found you faster –“
“No, you couldn’t. Truth is, if Feychilde didn’t get his backside captured I might never have returned. Fang couldn’t sense me, Spirit couldn’t sense me. You wouldn’t have found me –“
“I could’ve healed you better –“
“I got the best care within seconds. From what I’ve been told, I was basically cleansed by Nentheleme. Even she couldn’t get rid of it. I’m heading for the sh-shadowland, Glimmer. I –“
“Hush.”
She kissed him, then, their mouths meeting just for a few seconds, and it was everything she didn’t know she needed.
His death would weaken her, fracture her further, and she would let it because it was what she wanted, what she needed, in the very depths of her soul.
And damn what followed.
He met her eyes and she gazed back into his, deep into their hazel mysteries under the starlight his waning wizardry had brought into the little room.
“Don’t leave Glimmermere behind,” he murmured. “I love Glimmermere. I – I love you. Whoever you are.”
The moment of letting go of the future was the moment of finding the past. The realisation rocked her.
“Imrye,” she whispered. “Glimmermere can die, with – with Shadowcloud… and that’s okay. My name was – is – Imrye.”
Then she took hold of her future, forgot her past, held him in her arms, and was at peace at last.