The Faerie Path (15 page)

Disappointed, she turned back to the original ending. “There’s nothing about what happened to me after I disappeared,” she said. “There’s a five hundred year gap!”

“It could be that the power that dwells in the books cannot see into the Mortal World,” Sancha said.

“Which means it can only tell me what happens when I’m here, in Faerie,” Tania said. “Well, that’s just great!” She looked at Sancha. “How am I ever going to make sense of who I am without knowing what hap
pened to me over the past five hundred years?” She felt a catch in her voice. “Sancha, I’m only sixteen. I’ve got a birth certificate and everything. That leaves four hundred and eighty-four years that I don’t know anything about. Isn’t there any way of finding out?”

Sancha looked nervously at her. “There is a way, possibly.”

“What way?”

“If your spirit is strong enough, then it may be that I can learn what befell you,” Sancha said. “But it is perilous.”

“I’ll risk it,” Tania said.

“The strength of spirit must be yours,” Sancha said. “But the peril will be mine.”

“Oh.” Tania frowned. “Is it really dangerous?”

“It is, indeed,” Sancha said. Her dark eyes were very somber. “The Soul Book belongs to Faerie, but your spirit is split between this Realm and the Mortal World. I may be able to use the power of the book to bring the two halves of your spirit together, and then you may learn the lost secrets of your mortal past.”

“Couldn’t I do it on my own?” Tania asked.

Sancha shook her head. “You do not have the power within you while your spirit is divided,” she said. “But I will help you, Tania. Come, take my hand, and we shall see what we shall see.”

Sancha clasped Tania’s hand. Then, without looking directly at the book, she reached out and rested her other hand on the open pages.

“No matter what happens, you must not break the
bond,” Sancha said, closing her eyes.

It was a long time before anything happened. Tania watched her sister’s face closely for a sign that she could see into Tania’s past mortal lives. There was nothing, except that Sancha’s breathing got more and more shallow.

She was about to suggest they give up when Sancha began to speak in the softest of whispers.

“Swans fly o’er the coral roofs,” she murmured. “Entwined with lace and ribbons of powder blue…low, below the slow hello, the eyes upturned, the faces pale…”

“Sancha?”

“…the majestic sweep of the ice blue sea…and white-eyed cliffs a’towering…” Sancha’s voice had a low, melodic lilt, but Tania couldn’t make any sense of what she was saying. “…enticed by distant murky mouthings, to wander in the baleful depths…” Then Sancha’s body stiffened and her fingers dug into Tania’s hand.

“Ahh! This is a perilous place, indeed,” she muttered, and her eyelids flickered restlessly. “There is disease and death and malice and wickedness here.” She grimaced. Her voice grew louder; she sounded frightened. Beneath Sancha’s hand, Tania saw that the pages of the book were glowing with a grisly dark red light, as if the paper was smouldering and about to burst into flames. Thin wisps of smoke began to rise between her fingers. Tania got ready to pull her sister away from the book, prepared to stop this, no matter
what Sancha had said.

“This is a horrible place,” Sancha said, her voice cracked and weak now, as if from long suffering. “I am not Tania. I am Tania. I am not. I am. Oh, angels of mercy defend me! I am in a small dark room, in a hovel, lying in a bed with filthy sheets over me. Oh, the stench, the stench of it. There is dirty straw on the floor. I am sick, so sick, and there is such pain, terrible pain.” Sancha’s head rolled from side to side. “People loom over me, but their faces are clouded with resignation and despair. I am dying. It is such a strange, dreadful feeling as the life drains from me. I have some terrible, terrible disease, a deadly sickness, I am mortal.” Her voice rose to a wild scream. “I am
dying
!”

Tania wrenched her sister’s hand away from the smouldering book and the two of them went tumbling to the floor. Sancha’s screams stopped abruptly, but Tania was afraid that she had broken the link too late.

Her sister lay on the boards for a few moments, panting and trembling, her face shocked and ash white.

“I’m so sorry.” Tania gasped, crouching over her. “Are you all right?”

“The book burned so,” Sancha said. She lifted her hand and gave it a puzzled look. “But the pain is gone, and there is no hurt,” she said, displaying her flawless palm to Tania. “I believed the danger would be far greater.” Her face clouded. “Mercy! The book!”

They scrambled up. The open book lay unharmed on the lectern. There was no sign of charring or burning on the ivory pages.

“Weird,” Tania breathed.

Sancha straightened her clothes. “’Twas a curious and fearful experience, indeed,” she said. “And not one that I ever shall repeat.”

“But did it work?” Tania asked. “Did you find out what happened to me when I first went into the Mortal World?”

Sancha frowned. “Do you remember nothing?”

Tania shook her head.

“Then your spirit is too deeply divided,” Sancha said with a sigh. “I am sorry, but I fear that you may never be able to remember your mortal past.” She shuddered. “It is a monstrous place, the Mortal World. I know not how you endured it for so long.”

Tania looked at her. “Please tell me what the Soul Book showed you,” she begged.

“I must rest,” said Sancha, putting a hand to her chest. “I am very weary.” She walked unsteadily to one of the benches and sat down.

Tania sat beside her and rested her arm across Sancha’s bent shoulders. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she murmured. “It sounded terrible.”

Sancha lifted her head to look at Tania. “I believe I know how you fared when you first entered the Mortal World. You fell victim to some deadly plague almost at once.”

“I died?” Tania asked with a shudder.

“Indeed, for once you were there, you became subject to all the illnesses and misfortunes of that awful place.” Her eyes filled with tears. “My poor
sister, all alone and in pain, such pain!”

Tania squeezed Sancha’s shoulders. “It’s all right, I’m fine now,” she said. “But if I died, how come I’m still here?”

Sancha straightened up and took her hand. “Your spirit was released by the death of your mortal body,” she said. “Light and helpless as thistledown in the wind, your spirit waited to be born anew—babe after babe, down all the long mortal years. And as your mortal form succumbed to sickness or mishap, your spirit drifted free to be born again and again.”

Tania leaned back against the wall. “That’s a lot to take in,” she breathed. “Basically, I’ve been alive one way or another since the
sixteenth century
.” She gave a breathless laugh. “I could probably work out how many people I’ve been if I thought about it.” She shook her head. “Actually, I don’t want to think about it. My head would probably explode.”

“I wish that you could remember those lives,” Sancha said. “I would very much like to know more of the Mortal World, despite its horrors.”

“It’s not so bad these days,” Tania told her. “Whatever I died of the first time around is probably totally curable now.” She looked at her sister. “I’d go back, just for a while, if I knew how to control my power,” she confessed. “I want to see my parents—my mortal parents, I mean.”

Sancha’s eyes were soft with sympathy. “I cannot help you,” she said gently. “Nor would I, even if I
could. You belong here now. None of us would risk losing you again.”

Tania knew there was nothing more to say. She couldn’t expect anyone here to understand why she wanted to go back to the Mortal World. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying. She couldn’t let her parents suffer not knowing where she had gone or if she was even still alive. She would have to find a way of walking between the worlds, and if she had to do it alone, perhaps that was for the best.

Later that morning, Tania, Zara, and Rathina watched from the battlements above the Great Northern Gateway as Oberon and fifty lords and ladies of Faerie rode out with pennants and banners fluttering to begin the long journey to Castle Ravensare. Riding behind the King and the nobles of the Court were squires and attendants, some leading heavily laden pack ponies. And at the end of the procession, two mule-drawn wagons rumbled along, filled with supplies for the journey and gifts for the earls and dukes who would attend the gathering.

“It is two days’ ride,” Zara told Tania, leaning over the battlements and waving at the colorful horseback figures as they followed the path that led through the parklands and up into the purple-heathered downs. “I wish Father had taken me with them. It will be such a grand procession, and there will be feasting and merrymaking at journey’s end.” Her eyes shone.
“Uncle Cornelius will be there with his wife’s sons, Titus and Corin. They are so handsome. Indeed, I do not know who I like the better.” She grinned at Tania. “But there would be much sport in the choosing!”

“Fie, Zara!” Rathina scolded. “Do you never think beyond such frivolities?”

“Never!” Zara laughed. “The Counsel at Ravensare will last for three days, and when Father returns, I pray that he brings the beautiful sons of the Marchioness with him!” She danced a few quick steps. “I will need a new gown. Tania, will you come with me to Mistress Mirrlees and help me to choose?”

“Actually, I was thinking of taking a walk in the gardens,” Tania said. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

After Zara had gone, Tania stood next to Rathina for a while, and they watched in silence as the King’s procession dwindled away into the distance.

“I shall go saddle Maddalena,” Rathina said at last. She looked closely at Tania and frowned. “You are not at ease,” she said, touching Tania’s arm. “What ails you?”

“I guess I’m just having trouble coming to terms with being two people,” Tania admitted. “I’m afraid that my brain is going to fall out!”

“A brisk ride over break and spinney with the reins in your hands and the wind in your face would blow away all doubts and fears,” Rathina declared. “I will find a fine, even-tempered steed for you if you wish.”

“No, thanks,” Tania said. She liked horses, but she
had never ridden one, not that she could remember, anyway. And a wild gallop with an experienced and fearless rider like Rathina didn’t sound like a particularly safe way to start.

“I haven’t told anyone else about this,” she went on hesitantly, “but the night before I came here, I grew a pair of wings, and I flew.”

Rathina’s dark eyes were unreadable. “In your dreams or in the real world?”

“I’m not sure, not any more,” Tania said. “It felt very real. And it was totally amazing. I mean, it felt so good, as if I should always have been able to fly. But then the wings shriveled up and fell away, and I was just me again.” She looked sideways at Rathina. “I know flying is supposed to be really childish, but I loved it, Rathina, I really loved it. And I miss it!”

Rathina rested her arm across Tania’s shoulders and drew her close. “When I am riding upon Maddalena, and the wind is high and the moors stretch out forever ahead of me, why, there are times when I can almost believe that I am flying again,” she said in a faraway voice. “You are not alone with such desires, Tania. I too wish at times for the continued gift of wings.”

Tania felt a surge of affection for her sister. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

“There are tales,” Rathina went on. “Old tales that speak of a time when we were winged for all of our lives.”

“Really?” Tania stared at her. “So what happened?”

“Alas,” Rathina said. “I know not, and mayhap they are but stories for children.” She shook her head like a dog shaking its pelt after a swim. “But we are grown up and we are wingless. Fie! How do you put such silly thoughts into my head, Tania?” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Maddalena awaits,” she said. “Let this conversation be a secret between us!”

Tania nodded, smiling. It felt good to have confided in Rathina, and it helped to know that she had such a loyal and true friend. With her sisters around her, and supported also by Gabriel’s unwavering friendship, maybe she really could be happy here…eventually.

The Privy Gardens were quiet in the sun-drenched afternoon. Tania wandered the gravel paths between the long manicured lawns, delighting in the bright bursts of color that teemed in the well-tended flower beds. Trees lined the paths, cut into neat, rounded shapes with not a leaf out of place. There were also hedges of boxwood, trimmed into the shapes of horses and birds and chess pieces. And where the networks of paths met one another, there were statues and leaping fountains.

The only people Tania encountered were a few gardeners, busy with their work. She approached one woman who was kneeling with a trowel, waist-deep in an ocean of dark red blooms and surrounded by a snowstorm of white butterflies.

“What flowers are these?” Tania asked her.

“They are gaillardias, my lady,” the woman replied.

“The butterflies seem to like them.”

“Indeed, my lady. They smell sweet, do they not?”

Tania smiled. “They smell lovely.”

The woman looked cautiously at her. “My lady? May I speak?”

“Of course,” Tania said.

“I do not heed rumor and gossip,” the woman began. “But I have heard it said that you are determined to quit this land and return to that Other Place.” She shuddered and made a face as if she had tasted something bitter. “My lady, it is not for me to ask, I know, but I beg you not to leave us. The King would not be able to bear it.” She touched one of the red blooms. “I would not have these blossoms fade and wither under another five hundred years of twilight. Indeed, I would not.”

Tania looked at the woman without speaking for a few moments. “I never intended to go away permanently,” she said at last. “I just want to see my parents again, that’s all.”

The woman stared at her in surprise. “Your father dwells in this Realm, my lady,” she said. “And your mother is dead. For what reason would you return to the creatures that held you prisoner in that Other Place?” Her mouth twisted with distaste. “Surely you do not feel kinship with those foul demons?”

“They’re not demons!” Tania exclaimed. “It’s not like that at all.”

The woman’s mouth tightened in disapproval but she lowered her head and didn’t speak again.

Tania swallowed through a lump that filled her throat. No one here understood how hard this was for her! They all acted like she had been broken out of prison, as if she should be grateful for having been dragged out of her real life and dumped in this crazy place!

She turned and walked rapidly away from the kneeling woman. It felt as if everyone in Faerie was making demands of her, forcing her to do what
they
wanted. She didn’t want this; she had never asked to be a princess!

She wanted to be an ordinary sixteen-year-old. She wanted to chill out in her bedroom with a can of Coke and a family-sized bag of barbecue-style crisps and watch DVDs with her friends. She wanted to jump down the stairs in one go and crash into the living room and groan at her dad’s feeble jokes. She wanted to raid the fridge and drink milk from the carton and stuff her face with leftover pizza. She wanted to go shopping for new shoes. She wanted to talk to Jade for half the night on her cell phone and spend an afternoon in the mall trying on outrageous clothes that she’d never buy in a million years.

She stormed along the gravel pathways for a long time, blazing with resentment, not paying attention to where she was going.

She saw a small group of figures in the distance. Men, gathered by a fountain, talking together. Coming
closer, she realized that one of them was Gabriel. She thought it would probably be best to avoid him for the moment, at least until her mood had improved, so she turned and walked back the way she had come.

She heard quick footsteps behind her. Resignedly, she stopped.

“Tania?” Gabriel’s voice was full of concern. “Why would you not approach? What is the matter?”

She looked into his eyes, seeing only affection and kindness in them. “It’s nothing,” she said.

He frowned, coming closer and resting his hand gently on her shoulder. “It is clearly not nothing, Tania,” he said. “Can I not help? Can I not be your friend?”

“You
are
my friend,” Tania said fervently. “You
are
! But I have to think, and you can’t help me do that.” She gazed into his face. “I already know what you’ll say. I know what you think I should do. But it’s too hard; it’s just so unfair.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek. “I would not have you in such distress for the whole Realm!” he whispered.

“I know.” She felt a sudden need to be held and comforted. She stepped awkwardly forward, putting her arms around him and holding him tightly.

“Tania…” His breath was in her hair, his arms close around her.

She pulled away after a few moments. “I’m fine,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Please don’t follow me.” She rested her hand for a second on his chest
then turned and walked away quickly.

She tried to push thoughts of him out of her mind. Her brain was filled with enough turmoil without potential feelings for Gabriel being added to the mix.

She walked the gardens alone for a long time, and still she couldn’t find a way through her confusion, still she couldn’t make sense of who she really was.

At last she came to a low stone bridge that crossed a stream of water all grown over with green weeds. There was a wooden gate in a tall hedge at the far end of the bridge. Beyond the gate, she saw the rising parklands, and away in the distance, she spotted a solitary figure surrounded by hounds.

“Cordelia,” she breathed, suddenly desperate not to be alone with her thoughts anymore.

She ran across the bridge and pushed through the gate, racing up the gentle hillside with her hair flying and her skirts tangling around her legs.

The two sisters walked through the high northern parklands in a constantly moving river of hounds. To Tania’s relief, Cordelia asked her no questions and seemed happy to be silent or simply to talk about her beloved animals.