Songreaver (26 page)

"What are you saying?" Garrett asked.

Marsten grinned. "Remember what I was saying
about the Zhadeen?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, I spent some time there," he said,
"and learned a few things about illusion." He lifted his hands to
either side of Garrett's head, smearing the essence over Garrett's
scarred scalp and down the back of his neck.

"Illusion?"

"Making things appear to be something they
are not," Marsten said. He whispered again the words of the strange
spell.

The essence fizzed and tingled around the
edges of Garrett's burns where he could still feel it. "Is that how
you made that lady look alive?" he asked.

Marsten smiled. "A subtle blend of the arts
of necromancy and illusion," he said.

"Isn't that kind of like tricking people
though?" Garrett asked.

Marsten shook his head. "A man may love a
portrait of someone that he has loved and lost with as much
conviction as he loved them with in life. What I give to my clients
is far better than any cold, lifeless portrait... I give them their
loved ones back to hold and cherish for the rest of their
lives."

"But it isn't really the person they loved,"
Garrett said, "It's just an... illusion."

Marsten laughed. "Garrett," he said, "look in
the mirror and then tell me what you think of my illusions."

Garrett stood up and turned to face the large
mirror that hung behind the sofa. He put his hand to his face,
trying to convince himself that it wasn't someone else reflected in
the glass. His fingertips touched hair where before there had been
only the hard white flesh of nerveless scar tissue. He looked upon
the face that had been taken from him, the face of a boy, becoming
a man. He was whole again.

Garrett choked, unable to speak, and then he
began to weep, shaking with emotion. He fell to his knees on the
sofa, sobbing, and Marsten put his arms around him and held him
while he cried.

The following morning began the first day of
Emergence Week. During this holy rite, no men were allowed on
temple grounds. Garrett celebrated the holiday by dressing in his
best purple robe, polishing his amulet, and stopping by the market
on his way to the Thrinnian Embassy.

He stood before the dark amber-inlaid door of
the embassy, rearranging the flowers in his bouquet until he had
steadied his nerves enough to pull the bell rope. He tugged the
edge of his hood low over his eyes and waited. A few moments later,
the door swung open, and Garrett stepped inside.

The door closed behind him with a crisp
click, plunging the entryway into utter darkness.

"Good morning, Mister Klavicus," Garrett
said, "You fixed the squeaky hinge, didn't you?"

"Yes," the thin, dry voice of the doorman
answered from the darkness, "an
important
guest will be
arriving soon... all must be in order."

Something in the vampire's voice told Garrett
that the implied insult hadn't been targeted at him.

"Is something wrong?" Garrett asked, "You
sound like something is bothering you."

Klavicus snatched the cloth covering from the
wisplight orb, lighting the room with its pale, watery light. The
vampire stood, tall and lean, like some great carrion bird, gone
too long between meals. He flashed his yellow fangs in a tense
smile.

"Nothing wrong, Master Garrett," he hissed,
"nothing at all... we are soon to be honored in receiving a visit
from a... great teacher... young Lady Veranu is to be... instructed
in the... proper ways." The vampire twitched and looked away, his
over-large eyes flicking left and right, as though it pained him
just to speak of it.

"Marla's not in any danger, is she?" Garrett
asked, feeling even more uneasy than he usually did in the elder
vampire's presence.

Klavicus stretched his lips back in a
tormented grimace and ran the long fingers of one hand over his
bald head. "No... no," he sighed, "I simply... disagree with their
choice of tutor." His hand went suddenly to his mouth, and he
glanced back over his shoulder.

"What's wrong with the tutor they chose?"
Garrett asked.

Klavicus tilted his head sideways and his
lips twitched back over his fangs again. "She is..." he lowered his
voice, "she is too
prideful
."

"Oh," Garrett said.

The lean elder vampire seemed to regain his
composure, and he tugged at the seam of his tailcoat as he
stiffened his back. "I will tell young Lady Veranu that have
arrived," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Garrett said.

Klavicus disappeared through a hidden door in
the amber wall, leaving Garrett alone with the wisplight orb.

Garrett crossed the floor to stroke his hand
across the cool surface of the wisp crystal and whispered a
greeting in Fae. The orb shimmered with golden warmth, and an image
of violets in a green meadow flashed in Garrett's mind. Garrett
drew in a breath and tried to think of something to share in turn.
Unbidden, the memory of the white towers of Braedshal came into his
mind, and the flapping blue pennants along its high walls. He
smiled, in spite of the painful memories that stirred beneath the
image, feeling the wisp's thoughts playing through his surprisingly
vivid recollection of the Astorran city.

Once again, he found himself bound inside the
prison cart, rolling through the streets of Braedshal, but, this
time, he saw the things that he couldn't see at the time. Sunlight
gleamed on silver pauldrons as knights rode through the streets,
golden leaves spiraled slowly down from the branches of the poplars
lining the street, and two children splashed in the pool of a
broken fountain, a pair of smiling, innocent faces in a place
filled with anger and despair.

Garrett smiled, wondering if this was what it
was like to be a wisp, seeing only the beauty in the world. In his
mind's eye, he looked down at the dirty, straw-covered floor of the
cart and watched a single beetle, struggling to climb over the iron
frame of the cage. The beetle's shell glistened with an iridescent
shade of bluish green. It fell backwards, wriggling its legs in the
air for a moment before righting itself and trying once again to
crawl out of the cage. Garrett wanted to reach out and help it, but
his hands were bound behind him.

Garrett shook off the memory, aware that
someone was speaking to him.

"Garrett?" Marla said.

Garrett pulled his hand away from the
shimmering orb and turned to face her with a smile. She was dressed
in a long shirt and hose of matching black silk woven with a
pattern of tiny gray hexagonal shapes. She wore her hair up in a
tight bun, held in place with a long, tortoiseshell pin.

"Hi, Marla," he said, "I was just saying
hello to the wisp."

Marla laughed. "You should be careful," she
said, "I wouldn't want you to be lured off into a swamp and lost
forever."

"They do that?" he asked, looking at the
shimmering light, trapped within the crystal sphere.

"Sometimes," she said, "I doubt they mean any
harm by it. They like to share their stories and adventures with
others, and sometimes forget that not everyone can go without food,
water, or air."

Garrett laughed. "Oh," he said, "these are
for you." He handed her the bouquet.

Marla smiled, running her fingertips over the
petals of the flowers. "They're beautiful, thank you!"

"They're just regular flowers," he said, "I
asked if they had any duskblooms, but they didn't know what I was
talking about."

"They're perfect," Marla said, "Thank
you."

Garrett nodded.

"Mother and I were about to drink," Marla
said, "We would love for you to join us. I'm sure we could find
something for you to eat."

"Oh... no, thanks!" Garrett said, "I just...
I just wanted to show you something."

"What is it?" Marla asked.

Garrett's hands were shaking, but he drew in
a steady breath and pulled back his hood.

Marla dropped her bouquet, her hands flying
to her lips. "Oh, Garrett!" she gasped.

Garrett smiled, running his hand through the
short curly hair atop his head.

"How?" Marla whispered.

"It's... an illusion," he said, "A friend of
mine taught me how to do it."

Marla's eyes narrowed. "An illusion?"

"Yeah," he said, "it's not real... and it
only lasts about an hour, but I can do it whenever I want. It's
really easy."

Marla hugged him. "Oh, Garrett, I'm so happy
for you," she said. She stepped back and lifted her hand to touch
the hair at his left temple. "It
feels
real," she said.

"Yeah!" Garrett said, "And Marsten said that
I can make it whatever color I want to."

"I like brown," she said.

"I was hoping you'd like it," Garrett said,
his heart swelling with overwhelming joy.

"I almost didn't recognize you," she
laughed.

"Well," he said, "this is me from now
on."

Marla paused, speechless for a moment. A
troubled look crossed her face. "Garrett," she said, "You know this
doesn't matter to me, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's just... I don't care about what you
look like, Garrett," she said, "I never cared before, and I don't
now."

"Yeah, but..."

"Garrett, I'm glad that you found something
new that makes you happy, but don't you see, this is just another
kind of hood to wear?"

"No," Garrett said, "This is
me
...
this is who I should have been, if..."

"No, Garrett," Marla said, her voice sounding
hurt, "That isn't you at all. You're more than that! You didn't
need this to do any of the things you've done. You don't need this
to be my friend."

"It's more than that!" Garrett said, "I
wanted you to... I wanted you to see me... differently."

"Differently?" Marla said, "Garrett, do you
think me so shallow that this... illusion... would make me care
more about you than I already do?"

"No," Garrett said, waving his hands, "It's
just... What if I looked like Claude? Would you feel differently
about me then?"

"What?" Marla said.

Garrett pressed his lips together tightly,
his face flushed.

Marla knelt to pick up her flowers.
"Garrett," she said, her voice suddenly cold, "I would prefer you
didn't use this
illusion
when you come to visit me in the
future. I prefer to look my friends in the face when I speak to
them. I don't know
who
I'm looking at right now." She stood
facing him, but her eyes turned to look at the wall beyond him.

Garrett stood, trembling with emotion and
unable to speak. At last, he whispered the proper command and
brushed the illusion from his head with his right hand as though
scrubbing away a soapy film. He pulled his hood back over his bald,
scarred head and walked to the door.

He heard the sound of a door closing behind
him, and then the outer door swung open before him, dazzling his
eyes with the gray light of day.

****

"Don't worry about it, Gar," Warren said,
"She's just bein' a girl."

A chunk of rock bounced off the side of
Warren's head, and he yelped. Growling, he lifted his paw in a rude
gesture at Scupp who had thrown it.

"I think it looks nice, Garrett." Scupp said.
She sat beside her brother in the mushroomy ruin of an old handcart
against the wall of the grain mill.

"Thanks," Garrett said, running his fingers
through the hair of his restored illusion. He sat beside Warren
against the other wall, fuming quietly.

"You didn't bring
any
essence?" Diggs
moaned.

"Shut up, Diggs!" Warren said, "His
girlfriend is the one that makes the stuff, and she's being a...
she's being
sensitive
."

"You should probably go apologize to her
then," Diggs said, "and then see about getting us some more
essence."

"You are such a numblok, Diggs!" Warren said,
"Would
you
apologize to someone when you hadn't done
anything wrong?"

"You sure don't know anything about women, do
you, Warren?" Diggs laughed.

"Like
you
do," Scupp snickered beside
him.

"I know you'll never win an argument with
one," he said, "and, if you do, you'll wish you hadn't!"

"You don't know anything," Scupp snorted,
"Garrett, she was just surprised by it all. She'll come around.
Just give her time."

"I don't know," Garrett said, "I just wish
she would have been happy for me."

"She
is
happy for you, Garrett," Scupp
said, "She just don't know how to see you as somethin' other than
what she's always seen you as. You scared her's all."

"Scared her?" Garrett snorted.

"Yeah, you scared her," Scupp said, leaning
forward in the wreckage of the old cart and gesturing with her
shaggy paws, "A girl likes to think she's in control of all the
relationships in her life. She wants to be the one that decides
what goes where. She don't like surprises, not real surprises."

"What do you mean?" Garrett asked.

"Oh, a girl likes to be surprised with gifts
and parties and such," Scupp said, "She expects things like that,
but she don't like
real
surprises, like, all the sudden,
some boy she treats like a brother shows up lookin' sharp and
wantin' to take it further. That throws her off and makes her feel
like she ain't in control no more. She don't like that at all. You
scared her."

Diggs hooted with laughter.

"What?" Scupp demanded.

"You talkin' like you're the queen o' hearts
over here!" Diggs said, "You ain't never even kissed a boy!"

"The hells I ain't," Scupp scoffed.

"What?" Diggs exclaimed, sitting bolt
upright, "Who?"

"None o' your concern," his sister replied
airily.

"Who was it, Scupp?" Diggs growled, "I'll
beat his tail clean off! You remember what ma said!"