With no other means of punctuating the time he spent within the house, James took to carving shallow notches into the foot of his pallet bed. As each new morning dawned, he would take his thumbnail and score another day into the soft wood like a crude counterpoint to the beautiful carvings covering his four walls.

Despite what he had been told, it was now obvious that his status as guest allowed him only limited access to what appeared to be an extensive building. His prison walls had expanded but only as far as the bathhouse and the gardens surrounding the great tree. As the days passed he divided his time between the three spaces like a lonely prisoner, followed as ever by his silent companion, Torrinth.

At the beginning, he had still clung to the remote hope that the carved room would be some kind of portal back to his own reality. And for days he had stubbornly remained there, gazing at the carved walls as though the shifting patterns might provide some miraculous exit from his prison. But as the days drew on, he spent less and less time there, drawn ever more to the beauty and serenity of the gardens. There he would sit for hours on end, watching the countless branches of the giant tree whisper against the sky.

The one place he avoided was the bathhouse. Following his embarrassing encounter with Leander, he hadn’t stepped foot inside the chamber since. In the end, it was Bettiny who eventually changed his mind on the matter, one day all but dragging him to the door, dismissing his protestations like a strict matron chastising a petulant child.

‘I understand that barbarians seldom bathe more than once each turn,’ she had admonished, ‘but whilst you are with us a far more civilised regimen will be adhered to!’

The bathhouse was mercifully empty when they arrived that afternoon, the air filled with the musty aroma of damp wood. The water sat heavily within the large pool, its still surface reflecting the swaying branches above like a great mirror. For a long time, they stood together on the wooden decking as Bettiny patiently explained the complicated etiquette of bathing.

Upon entering the bathhouse, it was necessary to adopt an attitude she described as “unseeing”. Until the moment a bather was submerged beneath the surface of the pool, they were to be considered as not existing at all.

James blushed as she outlined the importance of this most cardinal rule, recalling just how thoroughly he had broken it only days before; from what Bettiny implied, his scrutiny of Leander’s nakedness had been tantamount to physical abuse. Rallying somewhat from the memory of this embarrassing encounter, he asked how such a rule could be faithfully adhered to. Was it not impossible to ignore naked flesh seen in plain sight? Bettiny met the query with a firm set to her jaw, shaking her head as though he hadn’t understood a word she had said.

‘There is a marked difference between the eye that sees and the eye that observes. Upon entering this space, you must distinguish between the two,’ she said, her eyes narrowed. ‘When you enter your bed, you do not scrutinise its form. When you break bread, you do not perceive it with any great import before it is placed within your mouth. The naked form can be perceived in such ways if the eye of the beholder wishes it so.’

Bettiny regarded him with her head now tilted as though gauging his capacity to follow her instructions.

‘Though, perhaps until such time you can forget your barbaric tendencies, it would be better merely to avert your eyes.’

Suitably put in his place, the young woman moved on to a yet more curious requirement. Before so much as a toe could be dipped into the pool, a symbolic gesture of introduction had to be performed. This involved taking a shallow wooden pail and dipping it into the water before splashing it across the bather’s body. She described the gesture as a means of allowing the pool to “know” who was wishing to join with it; for bathing was not merely a matter of cleansing the body, but an important interface between the forest and its inhabitants. From what James understood, the pool was actually part of a network of natural springs that could be found throughout the forest, and Lord Galen had built – or rather grown – the house around one such wellspring.

Bettiny frowned when he had mentioned the word “soap” as though she did not understand it, replying instead that the waters alone were enough to cleanse the body of its accumulated detritus.

After finishing her long dialogue, Bettiny nodded curtly to Torrinth. The old man seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he nodded once in return and reluctantly left the chamber, closing the door quietly behind him.

When James glanced back at Bettiny, he was horrified to discover that she was preparing to remove her silk robes.

‘Wait!’ James said, reaching for her arm. ‘We’re going to bathe now? Together?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘It is better that you learn to forget the ways of your people if you are to live amongst us.’

‘But I don’t want to live among you!’ he snapped.

‘Well, perhaps you should have considered that before you dropped from the sky and into our forest,’ she replied with a wry smile.

With one deft movement, Bettiny untied the elaborate knot from around her waist and promptly slipped the silk robe from her shoulders. The nurse’s eyes narrowed in irritation as James hurriedly covered his eyes, his face burning with embarrassment.

‘You will need to be swifter than that in future,’ Bettiny admonished playfully. ‘Other women will not be so tolerant of your sluggish reactions.’

James blushed further as he heard the bucket dip into the pool, followed by the splash of water falling across her body. There was the sound of her wet feet padding across the chamber and then the quiet ripple of water as she crept beneath the pool’s surface.

‘It is now safe for you to open your eyes,’ she called from somewhere below.

James slowly peeled his fingers from his eyes and found Bettiny sitting submerged against the side of the pool, only her head visible above its glittering surface.

‘Your turn,’ she said, smiling as she closed her eyes in contentment.

James glanced nervously between the closed door and Bettiny’s closed eyes, before gingerly untying his own robes. The silk whispered across his body before pooling at his feet like molten silver. A gentle breeze shifted the leaves above him, tracing its delicate fingers across his exposed skin.

‘What about my bandage?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Please remove it,’ she replied. ‘Nothing but the body of the bather may touch the waters of the pool.’

The bandage came away easily, and he was surprised to find that the wound had not leaked into its material; the puncture now greatly darkened and dry to the touch.

Casting one last suspicious glance towards Bettiny, he cautiously approached the edge of the pool. Using the wooden pail, he dipped it into the slick water before pouring it across his kneeling body. The water was like ice against his skin, and he drew in a sharp breath.

‘It’s too damn cold!’ he spluttered.

‘The water behaves differently when it is removed from the pool,’ Bettiny replied. ‘You will find the pool’s temperature more agreeable once you are submerged within it.’

Glancing doubtfully at Bettiny, he placed his foot upon the wooden stair and started to descend. The same iciness bit into his skin and he drew in another short breath. But just as he was beginning to doubt her words, a curious warmth began to sweep across his body. Emboldened by this welcome change, he dropped from the stair and sank feet-first beneath the surface.

With a spluttering yelp of alarm, he promptly resurfaced, his hands clutching for the edge of the decking. Bettiny’s eyes snapped open in shock.

‘What the hell’s going on down there?’ James yelled, the oily water lapping his face.

The floor of the pool had felt like a squirming mass of tentacles trying to wrap around his legs.

‘It is merely the under-growth, it is what keeps the waters of the pool vital,’ Bettiny replied with a relieved smile. ‘It is perfectly harmless.’

Frowning doubtfully at the young woman, he saw her smile widen before she broke into a chuckle, the sound of it like music playing across the glittering surface of water.

‘What’s so funny?’ James snapped, tentatively inching his way around the side of the pool to where a submerged ledge ran along its edge.

Sitting so that his knees were against his chest, he looked across at the nurse who continued to laugh openly, a wet hand covering her mouth as though to hide it from view.

‘Well?’

‘I’m sorry, it is just that I have never seen such a hairy man!’ she said, chuckling behind her hand.

James grimaced, and cast an accusatory glance in her direction. ‘I don’t believe it! You were watching me undress! I thought you said that was forbidden!’

‘It is forbidden for men to watch the women. But no such rule forbids us from glancing at our men folk. How else is a woman to choose a suitable mate if she cannot know what lies beneath his garments?’ Bettiny laughed again, her hand once more hiding her open mouth.

Shaking his head in disbelief, James reclined against the pool’s edge and tried to get comfortable. It was curious how the young woman had changed towards him over the past few days. Her once petrified reaction to his presence had dissolved to the point where she even felt able to openly tease him. He hoped that the same reaction might be engendered in the other people he came across in this strange place. Although, the thought that Leander would somehow learn to smile in his presence was probably hoping for too much.

‘Well, before you start planning our wedding,’ he replied, closing his eyes against the soothing flow of water caressing his body. ‘You should know that I prefer my women to be just as hairy as me… hairier if possible!’

‘Your women folk have hair upon their chests?’ Bettiny said incredulously.

‘Oh yes, hair all over,’ he grinned.

Bettiny’s sweet laughter echoed around the chamber, and for the first time, a smile without cynicism or contempt was brought to his own lips. He closed his eyes and soon a comfortable silence descended between them. The light behind his closed lids gradually darkened as the soft creaking of branches soothed from above. Lulled by the silken embrace of the calming water, it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.

***

Slowly, he felt himself sink beneath the water. The delicate line which severed water from air slipped past his chin and over his eyes, caressing the top of his shaved head before passing out of reach. In a moment of panic James thought he would drown, but the water seemed to be weightless, passing down into his lungs like air.

The light began to fade as darkness closed in around him. He felt another stirring of fear as he plunged ever deeper, but as he stared down between his feet, he noticed a pool of golden light far below. The light was feeble and faltering, but its dull, treacle glow was enough to discern the stone walls now sliding past his sinking body. With fascination, he watched as the walls were replaced by shelves, filled with books and bottles and other strange objects half-seen in the gloom.

He realised that he should have been afraid or at least confused by what was happening, but instead he felt strangely detached and calm. It was merely a dream after all… a dream within a dream.

No sooner than he had made this realisation did the movement around him cease. He flinched as his bare feet touched upon cold stone. His skin felt wet, but any sense that he was still submerged in water had vanished. There was a chill in the air and the baleful drone of wind scurrying between ancient walls.

The light which filled the bottom of the circular room issued from a large candle sitting upon a scarred workbench. A haphazard pile of broken books littered its top, a curious metal triangle hovering in the air above them. As strange and unsettling as this place undoubtedly was, he had the nagging feeling that he had been here before.

Slowly, he turned on the spot, his eyes tracing the endless rows of bookshelves filled with heavy leather-bound tomes. The hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle as a creeping dread rose from the pit of his stomach.

It was no longer just a feeling. He had been here before…

With his back to the candle, he beheld a corner of the room surrounded in preternatural darkness. A figure sat slumped upon a crude wooden chair, the outline of his body indistinct like a charcoal drawing smeared by a careless hand.

James stood completely still, pinned by the hidden stare of the figure. The ragged sound of breathing issued out of the darkness; the sound of lungs no longer adequate to the task of breathing.

‘There is little time,’ a feeble old voice croaked. ‘You travelled further than I intended, further than I feared.

A wheezing cough echoed out of the darkness as the figure drew another painful breath.

‘You forget me, child!’ the voice cried in dismay.

‘I feared it might be so, but no matter. I succeeded at least. You are with us now.’

James felt the man smile, but whether from malice or kindness, he could not tell.

‘Who are you?’ James asked tentatively.

But the man appeared not to hear.

‘There is little time, you must find me soon or I shall no longer be here to aid you.’

The man drew a deep, rattling breath, followed by a wracking cough. Beyond the walls, the howling gale rose in pitch making the ancient stone groan under its weight.

With dawning comprehension, James realised that the insubstantial figure slumped before him was the very one who had brought him into this fantasy.

‘Where are you?’ James shouted desperately.

Again, the hidden figure appeared to ignore him.

‘I risk much with the sending of such a message, but it is the last chance I have to gain your trust. I cannot seek you out, so you must seek me. I reside within the…’

The howling gale battered the walls, rendering his words incoherent.

‘Where?’ James shouted. ‘I can’t hear you!’

The figure coughed violently, half crippling him where he sat. The ragged outline of his body grew insubstantial as the howling gale pitched louder.

‘You must seek out…’ again the man coughed, his shade-like body dissolving further.

‘Seek out what?’ James yelled into the gathering tumult. ‘What damn it?’

The noise of the storm was now deafening and James clasped his hands to his ears to protect them from the palpitating air. The stone floor beneath his feet vibrated savagely as though the building was about to be shaken to rubble.

The seated shadow hunched forward, two wizened hands clutching the gnarled armrests like frenzied bones. A shrill scream was torn from his reluctant lips, shattering glass bottles high above their heads. When his words finally came, they bypassed James’ tortured ears and shuddered directly into his skull.

‘Seek out the last… magician!’

A thunderclap detonated in the shimmering air between them and with a blinding flash of light, James was thrown into the air.

The stone walls evaporated as his head emerged from the slick water of the pool. His stomach heaved, sending rivulets of ice-cold water cascading from his mouth and nose. His lungs drew in air, sending a hollow gasp echoing around the bathing chamber.

James gazed about him in confusion, his mind still reeling from the assault of the dream. The sky beyond the languid shifting of branches was now thick with stars, the pool a featureless void of black. Bettiny was no longer at his side and he was alone, utterly alone.

***

The next morning, James sat beside Bettiny in the garden eating a meal of berries and unleavened bread. The details of the strange dream he had experienced the night before still played over and over in his mind. Already, the tenuous details of the dream were beginning to fade, but the desperate urgency of the message was seared upon his mind like fire.

One of the curious transparent birds materialised on Bettiny’s knee, and she bent to offer it a berry from her bowl. The bird turned its black eye towards James, as though regarding him with suspicion, before plucking the berry from her cupped hand. With a blur of its insubstantial wings, the bird arced across the garden before it was lost amidst the green eaves of the house.

Bettiny’s braided hair shifted in the breeze, momentarily brushing against his shoulder. The warm smile she had offered him in greeting had since transformed itself into an uncertain frown.

‘Jame, is something troubling you?’ she asked, placing one of the berries delicately between her lips. ‘You do not seem yourself this morning.’

James shifted uneasily upon the stone seat.

‘I had a strange dream… after I fell asleep in the bath last night,’ he replied, holding his untouched meal between his hands.

‘I am sorry that I left you alone within the bathing chamber, it is not customary to disturb those who slumber within the pool,’ Bettiny said, carefully placing her bowl upon the ground.

With her hands now resting on her lap, she regarded him steadily.

‘What was so strange about your dream?’

James hesitated, suddenly cautious about divulging what he had experienced. Instead, he asked the one question that had been troubling him ever since.

‘Are there magicians in this world of yours?’

His question sounded absurd to his own ears, and he blushed slightly from his foolishness. But when her answer finally came, any trace of embarrassment quickly evaporated.

‘No longer do such people exist within the land,’ Bettiny said, her posture now rigid upon the seat. ‘They are as dust and bone, a fragile memory of a time long since passed.’

Casting his gaze about the walls of the house, James recalled the impossible words that Bettiny had once spoken; that the very house within which they all dwelt had been grown by Lord Galen.

‘Is Lord Galen not a magician then?’ he asked doubtfully.

Bettiny managed a weak smile and slowly shook her head.

‘Perhaps to a man of the plains the art of melding might be considered the work of a magician, but it is nothing alike.’

‘It was just a dream then,’ James said hollowly.

‘One does not dream within the wellspring,’ Bettiny said ominously.

‘What do you mean?’ he replied. ‘If you sleep, you dream.’

Bettiny shook her head curtly.

‘It is not so within the wellspring. Only the seers of Tamblin are said to possess the power of communion, only they are able to see what the forest sees.’

James shifted uncomfortably on the stone seat. He was not hungry, but he hurriedly took a bite of the bread still clasped in his hand.

‘It was only a dream,’ he mumbled.

Bettiny nodded her head, but her frown remained.

As the sounds of birdsong and the scratching of playful squirrels came back to his senses, James felt the awkward silence settle between them like a wall of stone.

A single word now repeated itself over and over again inside his head.

He was glad Bettiny could not hear it.

For the word was magician.