Chapter Ten

The lesson began, as always, with a glass of Soma.

“Are you sure this doesn’t have any long-term effects on my health?” I asked. “I really like my kidneys, and my liver’s not so horrible, either.”

Timothy was sitting in his chair, a slim but intricately decorated volume open in one hand. Now that it had begun, this language imprinting business was mostly self-study. Timothy stayed close, acting as a lifeguard in case Wyrm attempted to take advantage of my newbie mind, but mostly continuing with his own research.

"I've been drinking it almost as long as you have been alive, so any side effects should have shown themselves by now. Even if it were to create problems with any or all organs, we would be able to fix them easily enough." Then, with mock sternness he added, "Take your medicine, young lady."

"Ha, ha," I said, lifting my glass. It wasn't that I didn't like the Soma, but the exact opposite. I liked it too much. It tasted like something that shouldn't be allowed. The liquid coursed through me in radiating pools of warmth, no longer accompanied by lightheadedness. If anything, it made me sharper, the world clearer. It allowed me to read ten times as much as I could without its aid, as if it put me within a wavelength of where magic language dwelled.

It was too good. It had to be forbidden.

Timothy watched me finish it and then returned to his reading. I focused on mine. My lessons with Timothy had progressed, though I couldn’t tell that I had learned anything. I couldn’t speak a word of what I saw in Wyrm, but I could read it. When the book was feeling generous, whole pages were in English; otherwise, it was gibberish. Timothy said I couldn’t see the letters of a magic language until I had already learned them, which sounded like a Catch-22 but actually, that was just how it worked. One day I would see the letters for what they really were. As soon as I saw them I would know what they meant. The tome, he said, impressed them in my mind while we worked together. Until they were totally ingrained, it would be confusing.

Wyrm was essentially a book of mythology. It described how the world came into being and what the first ages consisted of, historically speaking. No definition was given for the exact length of the "ages,” millennia-wise, but the world was only supposed to experience nine of them before it came to an end, so they were not brief.

The first age was the Age of Fire. It was the longest, and during that period, the world took its shape as a “flame within a flame.” The only life was a race of titans--or demons--composed of fire, whose members constantly battled for supremacy over one another. Eventually, they overspent themselves in their struggles, weakened, and died. Out of their flesh came the second age, the Age of Gods, and it was this era that Wyrm was mostly concerned with. Once things had cooled down enough, it was the gods who took center stage.

There were hierarchies of pantheons, way too many for me to venture remembering. I glossed over most of the names, like skipping the ‘begats’ in the Bible. There were gods for every aspect of nature, biological and phenomenal, and more that labored under them or had no purpose at all but to be insignificant, but still noted. It gave me headaches looking at the lists. I would have skipped them entirely if I didn't know better.

Books weren't intelligent, Timothy had told me, but they did have feelings and they could communicate. If you made them angry, they would communicate their anger in a very unpleasant manner, as I discovered in my first miserable session. I might not pay attention to some sections, but I wasn't going to read any faster than Wyrm wanted me to. If I wasn't interested in genealogies, well, I was out of luck.

We did make progress, Wyrm and I. Among the gods, there were only a handful of main players. Among these, the most distinctive and influential was the ugly divinity known as Wyrm, a gigantic slug that ruled over the underworld. All the caverns and crystals were his. He also had a heavy claim on the world's recently formed oceans, and his defining characteristic was hunger.

The other gods feared him because he was the closest embodiment of the forces of disorder and destruction that had characterized the previous age. He intended to swallow them all and the world along with them, snapping up the smaller gods and enslaving many others. Wyrm grew in size and power until all the pantheons were divided either for or against him. He would have brought the world tumbling into decay and ruin if he hadn't been defeated. A god they named Lord stalked Wyrm in his lair and with a sword forged from light, cut him in twain…

"Timothy, is any of this real?"

He glanced up from his reading, blue-glaze eyes glinting playfully. "Real, how?"

"I mean, did it actually happen, or are these just stories?"

"If it didn't happen in our reality, it happened elsewhere, but your question isn't exclusive. They are also stories. Everything is a story."

I squinted at him. He smiled pleasantly at me.

"Whatever."

After Wyrm's death, order was restored with Lord established as the new uber-deity. The book didn't deal with his future. Even after his destruction, Wyrm was still a player. Half of his body broke down to form an entire new race called the Tellurians. The other half was eaten by one of Wyrm’s former allies, Serpent, who then became the first Dragon. Her name was Bolarian.

These lessons invariably ended not by my own choosing, but whenever Wyrm elected to stop making sense. When the pages became spidery, protean assemblies of illegible characters, I knew we were finished for the day. As Timothy returned the manuscript to its assigned place--an area it often wandered away from as soon as his back was turned--I stretched in my seat and thought of my plans for the afternoon.

"I'm going to check on Bolton," I announced.

My tutor kept his eye on the shelf, daring Wyrm to move. "I do not see the attraction, but go ahead."

I paused, wondering. "What is it between all of you?" The horse was closemouthed on the subject, but after meeting Li, the idea had been needling me that maybe Bolton had a very good reason for hating them. Without a specific accusation to go on, I was suspicious of everything. The sorcerers had been good to me, giving me a home, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

Still not turning, Timothy responded. "His mare died some years ago. He blamed us.”

"Oh." I could understand that. Occasionally, when I was alone or could not sleep, I felt the same way; that they could have saved my dad if they had just tried harder. I could have hated them, but it wouldn't be fair. Having power didn't make them gods. I couldn't hold them to that standard any more than I could hold the doctors who failed him in the same way. No one can stop death when it means to come.

At the door to the library, I waited for Timothy. I needed his help to find my way outside from there. The geometry of the house wasn't so much geometry as it was a shuffling deck of cards. I could only navigate to a handful of rooms with any reliability.

"Waiting on me?" As soon as Timothy's attention was diverted, Wyrm wobbled its way free. He led me down the stairs, halls and foyers and storage rooms, all linked in patterns I couldn't catch, no matter how I focused or how closely I watched. It wasn't consistent.

Abruptly, we arrived in the kitchen I recognized, the concourse between my room and the paths outside. I started to leave, but there was one more question gnawing at me.

"Do you have a…um…is there a security system around the ranch?"

Timothy was, for a fraction of a second, perfectly still. "Yes. We have to protect ourselves." There was a hint of penetration in the look he gave me. "Being what we are, we attract the attention of a few dangerous creatures. They are rare, remnants of the days when magic waxed in the open, but we must be careful." There was no sign of his usual jollity. The way he looked, for an instant, made me afraid. Then he smiled.

"Why do you ask?"

"Curious. No reason. Curious, that's all." I left rather quickly.

Evening was flowering over the ranch. Desert colors which seemed gruff and ungentle in the heat of day were suddenly enriched by a wealth of sophisticated shades and textures, heralding the night.

Bolton was posing in his usual quarter, apart from the other animals, cropping a patch of unruly grass. He regarded me with one large eye as I menaced him with the ancient saddle Timothy had dug up from some uncharted corner of the house.

When I had clambered on, he said, "I don’t know why I ever forgave you, abandoning me for so long after our first meeting. It is fortunate for you I harbor such a magnanimous spirit."

I patted his neck. "If you didn't, who would unkink your luxurious locks?"

"No one, dear Abby. You speak the truth."

He plodded out on our usual course, complaining about the aches in his bones like they were malicious neighbors, and I allowed my mind to drift. Timothy had said that the land was protected against dangerous creatures. There would be wards or charms at the borders then, but would they prevent me from running if I wanted to? Li being truthful about one thing didn't mean anything else he said wasn't a fabrication, of course. It was only practical to defend your territory if there really were monsters out there. What would they look like? Wolfmen? Ogres? Pale and fabulously beautiful boys?

Was Li what my uncle meant to keep out? Li had seemed to think so, but why would he admit it, if he meant to lure me away?

We were off course, behind the pond, veering for the nearest stand of trees. Bolton had left our usual circuit behind, and I had been too absorbed in my thoughts to notice.

"Bolton, where are we headed?" I was fine with the change in routine, but surprised. He generally preferred not to go so far out of his way.

"I met the most intriguing character the other night," he said in his most gentlemanly timbre. "He came into the barn, silent as duty, and asked me for a favor." We were coming closer to the trees. "Normally, I am not inclined to hold audience in such late hours, yet for this young man I felt inclined to accept."

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Bolton, are you sure this is safe?" It was obvious who he meant, but even though Li hadn't tried anything the first time, it didn't mean he wouldn't if he had me in a secluded section of the ranch. I felt a tad betrayed.

"Safe! Girl, by Harrison, if this one says he is an enemy of the sorcerers, then he is a friend of ours! Unless," he paused, "they have turned you. But I regard you too highly for that to be possible."

I shook my head. “Turned me? What does that…?” He had stopped, and in the space between branches, I could see Li grinning at me from farther in.

"I'll keep watch, Abby," said the talking horse. "If you do not yet trust him, at least trust my judgment. I have been in this world too many years not to be able to cipher light from dark when both are before me. Do not dismiss what he tells you out of hand."

I dismounted. I probably could have made Bolton take me back. It wasn't dark yet. There were golems roaming the grounds so Li wouldn't chase me into the open, but I disliked being forced into things.

Li waved at me, like this was such a happy surprise. I sighed. Well, I was already here, and I had wanted to see him again…

It was darker under the boughs of the pine, but I could see him plainly. Somehow, he still seemed bathed in moonlight as he had been the other night. There was a faint glow about his skin, a casual effulgence, but what was that smudge on his forehead? A birth mark? I wanted to rub it off with my thumb. It was ruining the rest of the effect.

"You can come closer," he said. "I'm not going to grab you."

I had been lingering at the border. Light or dark? I stepped farther in.

"Good," he said. "I'm glad you agreed to come."

I was about to protest, but I was sure he would laugh if I did. I didn't want him to laugh at me.

"Bolton seems to like you," I deflected. "That's more than I could say for anyone else, but you could have tricked him."

An eyebrow rose. "Tricked him? Whatever do you think of me?"

"I don't know what to think. Really, I don't." Actually, the problem was I thought too much of him, and too much of it was conflicted. I was drawn to him like a leaf to a waterfall, riding the current, but I was also afraid.

"I told you before. I am here to rescue you."

I crossed my arms. "I don't need rescuing. I'm the main character."

I had hoped to catch him off guard, but he picked up the thread as if he had been waiting for it all along; as if everyone thought in those terms. "In this story, yes. But even heroines need rescuing from time to time, especially when they haven't come into their own. How are your studies coming along?"

I dropped my hands. “What? How do you know about that?"

"I can see the future."

"No. No way. You just guessed, and I walked into it."

He smiled. "If you like." It was hard for me to think clearly with the way he glowed; the way he stood as motionless as some wild creature; the way his eyes seemed deeper than any eyes could be.

"You said you would have more to tell me. Why are you my uncle's enemy? Or why does he think you are?"

"Because they are the villains!" He spoke as if it should have been obvious. "At least, they serve them, and because they are schemers—sorcerers always are--and I tend to wreck their schemes."

I screwed up my face. "Could you be more specific?"

He walked—no, glided-- closer to me. If I reached out, I could touch his arm, his face.

"They mean to use you, though they would keep you ignorant as long as they can, while I would save you. I will save you. They would use me, too, if they had the power, but they will kill me rather than risk my taking you away."

He was mesmerizing, I could barely keep steady. Was this more magic? Had he cast a spell on me? "Why would you do that? Why do you care? You don’t know me."

"I have known you for longer than you would guess. It's a part of the story. But there are things I will keep from you, things I believe you aren’t ready to hear. You may not like it, but my knowledge is for me to do with as I will, and I will not lie to you about what I will not share. It is the sorcerers who will lie, because they have the power to change the truth by what they say. Sorcerers always lie.”

Hearing those words again swept a chill through me. Why should I trust him when he could be a monster in disguise, targeting me because I was the weakest and he wanted to hurt Milton and Timothy? What did he really promise? I shifted away; not a full step, but the intention of one.

"Why should I accept anything you have to say? Why should I believe what you claim to know about the people who have taken me in? What makes them so evil?"

He regarded me sadly. "You will see for yourself if you go into the garden, alone. Take a cup of that drink they give you, their special mixture, and dab a droplet over your eyelids when you are inside. Leave the path, and someone will appear to show you the way deeper in. They will convince you better than anything I could say."

"I can't go there on my own. I don't know how."

"The Door will serve you as well as it does the sorcerers. All you have to do is tell it where you wish to go, and speak truly."

He glided nearer and nearer, and yet, I couldn't move. I was hypnotized. My heart slowed and my breathing stopped. His skin glowed like a moth’s wings, but infinitely softer, and I found myself fascinated by the slight curve of his lips as he spoke. This wasn't good. What was he? Was there such a thing as incubi, those demons that are supposed to tempt innocent girls out of their virtue? I couldn't visualize any motivation that would have him so concerned for me personally as he said he was.

Shut up! Don't visualize! Don’t think!

He was close enough for me to feel his presence like a buildup of static electricity. He leaned closer, and I closed my eyes.

I heard the clip of hooves and a moment later, "Ahem."

I spun around. Bolton was wavering at the border of the green. Twisting about, I saw that I was the only one under the canopy. How did he do that?

"There is some… ah…commotion on the farm. The golems are all astir."

I started toward him, irritation less than well-disguised in my voice. “What's going on?"

"We'll have to find out," he said placidly. "But there is something curious in the air." He snorted, nostrils flaring. "Something uncanny."

Past the pond and the grazing field, I saw the golems rushing to and fro, almost like a pattern. They seemed to be searching for something in the way that only robots would, quadrant by quadrant. At the pace they were going, it wouldn't be long before the whole ranch was cleared for whatever it was. I shivered. They were tireless.

"I'd hate to have them chasing me," I said.

"Agreed. Let's find out what is the matter."

I clambered up, and he set off at a quicker clip than usual, as if his joints did not trouble him. "So," he said cautiously, "did you have an agreeable encounter? You seemed to be…"

"Shut up."

"Understood."

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