Chapter Eighteen

We ran through the night, or Li did. I was mostly carried. I may have dozed. He had to be a wizard; it was the only thing that made sense. He was strong like Timothy, in an effortless and totally unmuscular way, and Li could obviously do magic. The sorcerers were supposed to be banned or banished, according to Bolton, so a wizard would be their enemy, as Li said he was. That would at least partially explain why he had come to the ranch in the first place and why he was so interested in rescuing me. He would probably turn out to be about a thousand years old, too--just my luck.

Traveling through what Li called Sideways was disorienting. It was like walking in an oil painting where everything was smudged, putting the world out of focus. Occasionally, I had to close my eyes just to keep from being sick because when Li took a step, we crossed a distance as if he had taken ten. The mountains and the trees lurched and leapt unbearably from point to point through the dark hours, until the monster and the ruins of the house were far behind us.

I tried not to think about what she was; about who she had to be. Timothy has said the myths were not exactly true, but they were true enough. Daughter of a dragon, she had been beautiful. That was the worst of all; that she could be so terrible and fearsome and still so beautiful. There was grace in the way she had moved, a serpent’s weightless ease. She was perfection, deadly and awful perfection. It was no wonder that the sorcerers had feared her. She had beaten them, and Li was running. I couldn't imagine what kind of person--what kind of being--wouldn't run from her. She made the Pard seem like a friendly little kitten, flaming eyes and all.

I had questions; so many that I would never be able to know all I wanted. Yet for some, I may not want the answers to at all. One big question mark was already erased. I had been getting hints, here and there. Timothy giving me that book to read was only the most heavy-handed. It was the sort of thing that heroes in novels are a long time in realizing, usually so long I wanted to smack them and tell them to get on with the story already. It’s always so obvious in retrospect.

Skip the soul searching, the agonizing denials. As soon as the first spell is cast that sort of nonsense needs to go flying out the airlock. I am not a normal girl anymore. I'm not going to moan about not going back to school, or having regular friends, or a regular life. I know what happened to my mother now. I know what she is, and I know what that makes me. Or will make me. I know it, and I am going to deal with it. And Malice is still a stupid name.

“We’re here, Abigail.” Li set me down, and as he did, reality came back into focus.

We had come through a small pass, barely a cleft between two towering cliffs, into a cupped vale about a mile across, dominated by a blue lake. It was surrounded on all sides by wood and stone, the only visible entrance being the one we came through.

It was very green, much more so than it should have been in any season, let alone the height of summer. I am not an expert on Nevadan climate, but the verdant clumps of trees, the thick carpet of grass, and the crystalline lake seemed somewhat out of place in the middle of an otherwise arid mountain range. I understand how catch basins work, but there wasn't this much rain to catch in the whole state. Of course, if Li was going to have a hideaway, it wasn't going to be nonmagical.

“Welcome, Lialanni.”

“Flame over water,” Li said. “I thank you, Naiad’s daughter.”

A woman stepped from the shadows of a nearby tree. She wore a plain linen dress, but had a long and finely embroidered sash tied around her waist, its ends brushing her bare ankles. Shorter than I, and plumply pretty, she had rich brown hair and dark doe's eyes.

“Well met,” she said and then turned to me. “You must be Abigail. It is a joy to see you.” She inclined her head in a ritualistic manner. “Numia is one of the last good paths left, and you are welcome here, as would be any guest of Lialanni's. I am Esmerelda, First Daughter of the Naiad and speaker for Numia.” Her face was grave as she gave her title, but she then broke into such a smile that she looked like a young girl. “You may call me Esme, if you like.”

“Thank you.” I said. “It's nice to meet you, Esme.”

She gave a bubbling laugh. “Good, we will be friends. Now you must see Numia, and I will show you to your tree.” I shot Li a glance. Tree? But Esme had already seized me by the hand, since no one in the magical world seemed to have a concept of personal bubbles, and pulled me deeper into the vale. As I twisted around I thought I glimpsed two large, peridot eyes in the shadows, but they vanished as soon as I noticed them.

Trees were scattered in neat clusters all over the valley and around the lake. Among these clusters I saw a few people, olive-skinned with regular features standing and talking, or sitting in odd wicker furniture. They gave no sign of observing us but appeared content in themselves. It was early morning with still more gray in the sky than blue, and I was surprised to see anyone about so early. For myself, I would have fallen asleep on the grass if I had the chance to lie down. Li also appeared exhausted, and he had far more reason to be.

“There are not many of us,” Esme said, “but our home is beautiful. Numia is one of the last holdfasts against the encroachments of the lumpen. We are protected by the blessings of the Naiad. Our magic still bears fruit, but even she fades.”

“You wouldn’t say that in front of your children,” Li said.

“Maybe,” Esme conceded, “but they know it whether I tell them or not. They can feel it, too.” She was leading us to the lake. I could already see it was as clear as tropical waters and floored with pale sand. There was a circle of sand at least twenty yards wide abutting one section of the shore, as well as a more modest band circumscribing the rest of the lake. As we approached a path that led to the water, Li spoke.

“Esme,” he said, “would you delay the welcoming until this evening? I need to recover.”

She stopped in her tracks. “Of course, Lialanni. Why didn't you say so immediately? If you need to find yourself, I will show Abigail to her tree.”

“Thank you.” He nodded and then turned his eyes on me. I caught my breath. “Please go with Esme. I know you are tired, and it is safe to rest here. If you chose to sleep, I will have returned by the time you awake.”

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere you cannot,” he smiled. “Do you trust me?”

I wasn't able to say no, so I smiled back. I wasn't thrilled about being led to my “tree” alone. Esme seemed nice, but I didn't like the feeling of being dropped off and left. More than this, I was unreasonably afraid that if Li was out of my sight, he would turn out to have been a dream all along, and never come back.

He set off toward the forest, and Esme took me toward a trio of close knit pines in the opposite direction. Except for these clusters, the area around the lake was mostly clear of trees, but the whole vale was ringed by them up against the mountains. It seemed like Li was just trooping off into the wilderness.

“Where is he going?” I asked Esme.

“What Lialanni does not tell you, I will not offer. He is as high here as I am.” She was almost reverent.

“Is he that great a wizard?”

“A wizard? I am a wizard, girl. He is something else entirely.”

Yet another wrong idea. If not a wizard, what?

“Can you say who he is then?”

“If Lialanni will not tell you...” she trailed off meaningfully as we reached the pine trio. They were mature and their bases wide. The three tops leaned in toward one another like they were exchanging secrets. In places, the boughs looked almost woven instead of tangled, and the needles were as thick as a wall.

I took all this in doubtfully. If they expected me to sleep on a mat of pine needles as long as we were here, then Li could carry me to the next stop, wherever that may be, or I would take my chances with Malice. Red eyes glaring out of shadow, wings swallowing the night... No, maybe I would settle. I was rather tired.

Esme ducked past a downturned branch heaving with needles. It had the look of a screen, and when it seemed like she wouldn't be coming out again, I followed.

Inside, the ground was blanketed with needles, but there was a bed and a chair and hooks and shelves attached to the trunks of the pines. The space was surprisingly open; all the lower boughs grew in drastic curves to fill in the outer wall. The furniture was the same unusual wicker mesh I had spied outside, but the mattress looked incredibly comfortable, if not factory made.

Esme pointed to the light source. “A glowstone,” she said. I was so accustomed to electricity that I hadn’t noticed the light was not from a bulb. It was a quartz crystal hanging by threads tied into the weave of branches that made up the ceiling. As only a dim hint of sunlight was able to creep in under the curtain of the pines, the crystal’s warm illumination was all we had to see by.

“Cover it with your hands to make it dim or rub it to make it brighter.”

“Neat,” I said, testing the bed. It was soft like…down soft. It was almost too easy to sink into. The sheets felt a little coarse, but were surprisingly well made. I was leaning back, my eyes growing heavy before I knew what was happening. Esme giggled. “I thought you might react this way.”

“Mmm,” I sagely replied. “What are the lumpen?” I asked. I had heard Timothy mention them before and it hadn't seemed significant at the time, but Esme had spoken of them hatefully. It sounded like something bad you found in your soup.

“They are the ones that have no magic, have no sight, and still eat up the world.” Her voice sounded far away, even though the shelter was hardly ten feet to a side and less than that in height. I was drowsier by the second.

“Oh.” I said. “Like Muggles.”

“What?”

In a few moments, I felt the glowstone go dark but did not open my eyes to see. I heard the rustling branches as Esme slipped outside. In a moment more, I heard nothing.

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