ANSEHEN

German, "to watch; to look at"

But in general, take my advice, when you meet anything that's going to be Human and isn't yet, or used to be Human once and isn't now, or ought to be Human and isn't, you keep your eyes on it and feel for your hatchet. -- C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

My head hurts, was Diarnlan's first and rather muzzy thought. She drifted closer to consciousness and promptly wished for oblivion. Her head didn't just hurt, it ached. It felt like someone was trying to prise her skull open with a crowbar from within. Gods above, how did I die this time?

Wait, that wasn't right. No matter how painful her deaths were the pain never lingered after death. She was faced with the very unwelcome realisation that she was alive.

What did I drink last night?

Her last clear memory was of the spell to make vegetables grow quickly. Everything after that was a blur. For some reason she'd been on a bridge. And was that a church?

Diarnlan risked opening her eyes. Then she squeezed them shut and groaned in anguish. The world was far too bright and colourful. And it was spinning.

Saungrafn? Saungrafn, what's happening? Where am I?

No answer. In fact Diarnlan couldn't sense her soul-weapon's presence at all. For the first time she felt a flicker of unease. Slowly she cracked open one eye. The confused blur above her head swirled and resolved itself into a collection of pale blue and orange stones stuck to the ceiling to form geometric shapes.

Diarnlan opened her other eye and squinted. This wasn't a style of architecture she'd ever seen before. Perhaps it was like the painted ceilings in the palaces of Iubia-Capreae. But how could she have gotten to a place that used the architecture of a country on the other side of the continent?

She sat up. That was when she realised she was lying on a very large mattress that covered the room's entire floor. No, wait. It wasn't a mattress. It was... a cloud? Diarnlan rubbed her eyes and looked again.

Whatever the thing spread over the floor was, it certainly did resemble a cloud. In appearance it was like one of the light, fluffy clouds that looked like wisps of smoke, but unlike them it was a strange bluish-greenish-purple. The colour changed every second and sometimes it was a shade Diarnlan had never seen before and couldn't find the words to describe.

She lay down again, took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. All right. Something had happened yesterday. Maybe she'd drunk too much and the hotel staff had put her somewhere until she sobered up. Whatever the reason, she'd fallen unconscious and been brought to this strange place. Probably she was still somewhere in...

Where was I last?

She tried to remember. Oh yes. She'd gone to Guraisi. And someone had watched her the whole time.

Diarnlan sat bolt upright at that memory. Suddenly the entire situation took on an even more sinister twist than simply getting drunk and being left to sober up. An invisible person had stalked her all around Guraisi. She had fallen off something. Was this a hospital? Or had her stalker kidnapped her?

She shoved back the heavy quilt. It was warm and soft, but an unpleasant smell clung to it. A smell almost like blood and rotten meat. Scale-like patterns covered it, changing colour like the walls.

The room was completely empty apart from the mattress and quilt. Its walls were covered with the same stone patterns as the ceiling. There were no lights anywhere and not even a tiny crack of a window. Yet there was light in the room; a sort of cold white light that seemed oddly artificial. It wasn't warm like a conjured light or a gas-lamp. It seemed to emanate from the walls themselves while also filling the air as if it was somewhere overhead.

Diarnlan searched the room for any sign of a door. She pulled up the mattress -- it was strangely insubstantial and cold to the touch, as if it really was made out of clouds -- and examined the floor for a trapdoor. The floor was black and shiny, like it was made of obsidian or coloured glass, but it didn't reflect anything.

After hunting for several minutes she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. The sensation of being watched was back.

Saungrafn! she yelled telepathically.

Only silence answered.

There was nowhere in the room for anyone to hide. Nor was there anything they could watch her through unless they had a window concealed by magic. But the feeling wouldn't go away.

Diarnlan stood in the centre of the room and glared around at the walls. She tried to sound more self-assured than she felt. The minute she heard her own voice she knew she'd failed. "Show yourself, whoever you are!"

One of the walls distorted. A ripple ran across it as if it was made of water. Then it drew back like a curtain and melted into the rest of the walls, leaving a doorway that opened onto a corridor. The corridor was brightly lit with the same cold light. It had no corners and not even the slightest shadow for anyone to hide in.

Diarnlan waited until it was obvious no one would come to her. She weighed up her options. Whatever waited for her at the other end of that hallway might be dangerous. But she had no way to defend herself if it decided to come into this room, and maybe she would find a way to escape once she was in the hallway. There had to be a window she could climb out somewhere.

She tried to cast a spell to detect danger. Nothing happened. Her magic was sealed and she couldn't touch it. Panic gripped her for a minute before she forced it away. Only very powerful magicians could block someone else's magic like this. That explained why Saungrafn was missing. Probably she had fallen into the hands of some foreign magician who wanted to know more about the Avallotish magic system and had taken Saungrafn to study it.

Very rude of them, she thought grimly. I'll give them a piece of my mind as soon as I find them.

No use putting it off any longer. Diarnlan marched through the odd doorway and down the hall. The floor looked like stone, but her feet sank down into it and her shoes made no noise. It was as if she was walking on carpet. In spite of the light and the lack of hiding places she had an uneasy feeling that something was about to jump out at her. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure no one had sneaked up on her from behind.

The corridor seemed to stretch ahead endlessly, but abruptly it rippled like the wall had and she found herself in another room. It looked exactly like her kitchen in her old house. Diarnlan felt as if she'd just had cold water poured over her head. This was much worse than a very rude foreign magician. Someone had been spying on her for so long that they could recreate her kitchen right down to the cracked tile beside the cooker.

"Karandren! What is the meaning of this?"

Was it not enough that she could never escape him permanently? Did he have to stalk her and torment her even when she was staying out of his way?

In the distance a faint voice repeated her words. Diarnlan started and looked around for the speaker. Then she realised it was an echo of her own voice. Judging by the sound and the time that elapsed before the echo began, she was in a room much larger than her kitchen.

Something on the table caught her eye. I know that plate wasn't there a minute ago.

It was a very large, very deep plate that was nothing like anything she owned, which in an odd way was the most comforting thing she'd seen since waking up. At least her kidnapper hadn't recreated her plates in addition to everything else. The fish on it was steaming as if it was freshly out of the oven. Very warily Diarnlan approached the table and held her hand over the fish. No warmth rose from it in spite of the steam. Its head was still on and its stomach was intact, suggesting that whoever brought it here knew nothing about how to cook fish.

When she looked away from the fish she saw a glass set beside the plate. In the glass was a sapphire liquid. A slice of some foreign fruit floated on the surface. She recognised the drink -- it was roak, a popular drink in Byuryan -- but not the fruit. If it resembled anything, it was a cherry in the shape of an orange segment.

Diarnlan considered the situation. Whoever had brought her here -- and it looked less and less like Karandren was responsible; he wasn't patient enough to go to all this trouble -- obviously expected her to eat and drink. They were just as obviously completely insane.

She picked up the glass and poured its contents onto the floor. To her surprise she saw the liquid sink into the floor as if...

As if the floor was drinking it.

That thought was just too disturbing to contemplate. Diarnlan picked up the fish and threw it onto the floor, where it also disappeared, then sat down on one of the chairs and waited. The feeling of being watched had never gone away. Now it had changed slightly. If she had to guess she would say it felt displeased and offended.

Diarnlan picked a section of the wall at random and gave it her most unimpressed frown. "Can we please dispense with the games? Tell me who you are, what you want, and why you've brought me here!"

Either the watcher had really been behind that part of the wall, or they simply decided it would be easiest to appear there. The wall rippled. Diarnlan jumped to her feet and picked up the chair. It wasn't as heavy as the chairs in her real kitchen, but it would make a good enough weapon if necessary.

In spite of all the evidence to the contrary, deep down she had expected Karandren to step through the wall. And if not him, then surely it would be someone she recognised. One of the other Great Mages, perhaps, or one of the many magicians she'd clashed with in her various lifetimes.

Her expectations were completely wrong.

If seen from a distance the person would have looked human. But seen up close? Diarnlan instinctively recoiled. A reanimated corpse would have unsettled her less.

The person had long black hair and a feminine face, but their height and flat chest suggested they were male. Their -- his? hers? its? -- skin was white. Not pale, white like flour. There wasn't even a faint reddish tinge to show they had blood beneath their skin. Their eyes were inhumanly wide and round -- and purple. Diarnlan had read many a bad novel that described its heroine as having purple eyes. This was the first time she'd ever seen someone who really did have them. It was a deeply disturbing sight. Their clothes were dark blue and glistened in the light. It was difficult to tell what sort of clothes they were because they seemed to shift and distort when you looked at them for any length of time. But Diarnlan was certain she'd never seen either the fashion or the material before.

The person's movements were inhumanly smooth as they walked towards her. She raised the chair and held it in front of her like a shield. They stopped and looked at her. Their face stayed expressionless for a moment before contorting into exaggerated surprise.

"Are you not hungry?" they asked in perfect but strangely toneless Avallese. Their voice was definitely male.

If she'd been less unsettled Diarnlan would have laughed in their -- his? -- face. "Hungry? Hungry? Do you really think I'll eat anything in this place?"

The person looked confused. His expressions didn't move naturally like a human's, and seemed to be the result of conscious thought. Diarnlan ran through the list of every supernatural creature she knew. None of them fit this one -- unless he was one of the Fair Folk, and in that case she was worse than dead.

"Humans need food and drink," he said as if reciting facts he'd learnt. "Fish is a staple food in Avallot. Why did you not eat?"

"Because I don't accept food from strangers," Diarnlan snapped. This situation was so bizarre she could almost believe it was a dream she would wake up from. "Who the hell are you?"

The person paused. "You want my name?"

"Of course!"

"R̷̛͙͂̊̔̈́̔̓͌͐͠͠ě̴͖̖̦̹͎̟͙͕̰͖̃͂͐ņ̵̨̛͚̠̯̗͕̬̰̰̲͎̬̙̲͔̲̼̙̤̅͗̍͝ͅḯ̴̡͕͍̱̣̩͕̱̭̘̫̭̖͙͈͖͒̕̚͜ͅt̸̡̛̖̯̺̩̦̻̦̝̼̱̻̜̱̞͉͖͔̍̏͊̌̑̐̈́̈́̽̈̿͛̄̽̃̾͘͜͜͝a̶̼̹̤̩̫͚̰̱̳̤͖̣͕̥͖̪͂̏̀̅̈́̾̎̐̓̈́͌̎̑̿̔́͘͝͝͠ḩ̴̛̲͎̤̺̂̈́̓̅͝͠͝n̸̖͍͎͈̻͉̲̲̒̎̑̑͜͝u̵̧̙̫̜̖̥̤̠͙̲̤͕͈̹̎̓̓̓̈́͛͐̓̊̀̑̊ͅs̸̢͖̟̰̲̪̉̈͗̅̾́̀͆͒̃̽̊̚s̴̨̧̧̱̘͓̩͕̞̰͕̰͔͙̥̝͇̘̀̄̿̈̿̽͒́͒̎́̋͝l̴̡̹̱̰̘͖͔̗̼̪̞̳̜̘̣̗̰̫͖̹͖͕̎͛̑͂̔̈̈́̽͂̐̃̊́̀̀͜͜͝ǐ̷̧̢̛̛̬̞̓̃̃͛͛̓̎̆̚͘ę̶̺͇̟̻̰̭̦͙̜͎̳͈̈̄̈́̆̀͐̈̋̾̈́̄̽̏͐̇͆̚̚ḑ̴̡̡̢̹̩̜̼̰͚̤͎͎̗̭͈̮͔̭̥͎̪̖̐͗̈́̾́ͅa̵̧̨̺̦͔̘̹͚̣̬̰̺̲̻̗̦͈͆̾͊͋̆͒͂́͑̇̓̾̍̒͘̕͘͜͜͝ͅͅͅs̸̖͕̤̘̒̈̈̏͌̃̈́̀̅͆́̀̄́̈̔̚͠͝e̶̛̠͔̪͍̼͉̟̹̻͙͚͈͚̲̍̇̍̏͆ͅḻ̸̡̨͈̩̮̥̟̊͆̈́́̋̋̏̾̾̓̂̋̾̃̇̐̕͠͝͝͝."

Ringing filled Diarnlan's ears. Her head ached. In the distance someone was screaming. It came as a shock when she realised she was the one screaming. Her throat hurt but her voice seemed to come from very far away. She was holding her head and there was something wet trickling between her fingers.

The world gradually came back into focus. The first thing she heard was a panicked voice crying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Years ago Diarnlan had eaten bread that had gone off. She'd spent days feeling sick to her stomach and utterly miserable. That was exactly how she felt now.

She opened her eyes and glared up at the man. To his credit he looked as shocked and horrified as she was. It was the first genuine emotion she'd seen him display.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

He shrugged helplessly. "Human ears aren't meant to hear our language. I didn't know how badly it would hurt you."

Diarnlan took a deep breath and wiped the blood away from her ears. "What are you? What do you want with me?"

"I'm curious," he said, which was never a promising beginning. "You looked through the veil. You saw me. And you have died but not died more than any human has before. I want to know how."

His words jarred a memory loose in her mind.

The hole in the veil opened right in front of her. For one nightmarish minute she looked through it into the Óhreinnjǫrð. Colours swirled behind the veil, colours that human eyes should not be able to see. In seconds the landscape changed from mountains to valleys to cities that defied all logic. She saw palaces built on top of enormous spindly towers. A thousand shapes rolled back and forth in the gorge-like streets.

A pair of eyes stared back at her. They looked far too human to be a skrýszel's eyes. They were there and gone so quickly she wasn't even sure she'd seen them properly. For all she knew they might have been her brain misinterpreting something else she saw.

Diarnlan's headache intensified. She pressed her hand to her forehead, leaving a bloodstain in the process, and took a deep breath.

"Start from the beginning." An idea that it might be best to be polite prompted her to add, "Please. Tell me who you are, and in the gods' names don't you dare use that language again!"