“Up with you, lass,” Rawlt growled, seizing her arm with a strong hand. The boat swayed as she was led toward the pier, where two soldiers wearing her father’s livery stood waiting. The soldiers hoisted her up from the boat and onto the pier. Looking up, she saw Pent Tower rising above her. Torches hung from some of the walls, painting the stones with orange shadows. The smell of burning pitch stung her nose.
She stared up at the castle. It had been years since she had been there. Years since she had seen her father. He had summoned her in the middle of the night to send her to find the lost abbey in Dahomey. She had already lived this! She was prey to some vicious spider who could spin out her memories and tangle her in them.
Yes, this was a memory, she reminded herself. When she was asleep, when the Myriad One took over, she dreamed of the past. This moment was not that far in the past however. Not long after, she had boarded a ship with Captain Rawlt and the kishion—the Blessing of Burntisland. She could remember the look of the ship. It had sailed that very morning as soon as the tide came in.
They started walking down the pier toward the castle.
Again, Maia’s vision blurred. Now, she saw that she was on a different dock. It appeared to be morning, yet there was no sun. The sky was a pall of shadows and low-hanging clouds. The city that lay before her was small and squat, a fishing village. The dwellings were all made of timber, not stone. But what caught her gaze was the monolithic mountain that rose like a king behind the city, with cliffs so high that the clouds scudded against them. Only a small flat reef and a few rolling hills were lower down—the cliffs were massive and jagged and they reminded her of a giant, forbidding Leering. A Leering bigger than a city.
She was under the sway of the Myriad One and only barely conscious of her reality, but she knew this was Naess, where the Dochte Mandar ruled omnipotently. She knew it deep down, beneath the webs that confounded and confused her. The craggy mountain loomed over the city, a bier stone. It made her cower with fear to see how tiny the homes and fortresses were beneath it.
Then she noticed the light. She wondered how she could see the city so well with the sun hidden away. As the Dochte Mandar escorted her off the boat and led her down the pier, she noticed that the streets were full of cracked Leerings, giving off the colors of dawn. It was only the light from the Leerings that made it seem like daytime. The differences of this place fascinated her, even through the thrall of the Myriad One. The air was cool and frosty and the people were bundled up for it in fur-lined vests and fur caps. The men wore boots with pointed toes that curled up. The women’s hair was braided on each side, and they were only seen accompanied by men. There were carts and stands, trading and selling. The Dochte Mandar guided her past it all.
Maia blinked and found herself in the dream again. A soldier led her through the postern door of Pent Tower. The halls were illuminated with torches, and rushes crackled under her feet as she trod on them. The memory was sticky and clinging, and it masked the sights and sounds of Naess. She struggled to free herself. Wake up! Wake up! The current bubbled and crested, carrying her along effortlessly. She struggled to swim against the current of memory, to break loose of the clinging webs.
I am myself! I am me! Let me go!
Part of her vision wavered, and she could feel a sense of annoyance. But she was not strong enough to burst the bonds that entrapped her mind. They were walking toward the solar, her father’s favorite chamber. For her, it had become a room of painful memories. She squeezed her hands into fists and glanced back. The kishion was shadowing the soldiers who escorted her, and his icy-cold gray-blue eyes gazed at her with ruthless intensity.
“Here we are,” Rawlt said, stopping in front of the solar door. He bowed to her. “Your father waits for you within.”
She did not want to see her father. He had caused so much suffering in her life, so much anguish. Yet her heart still hoped that he would soften toward her.
She remembered what happened next all too well, but she watched it unfold in the queer way of dreams. He was pacing in the solar when she arrived, agitated.
“Maia,” he breathed with true warmth, and opened his arms to her. She ran to him, overjoyed by his embrace, by the still-familiar smell of him. She had been unprepared for the damage the years of absence had done to him. He was thicker around the middle, his hair more silver, his gaze more careworn and concerned. His left eye twitched uncontrollably. He kissed her head and squeezed her hard, crushing her ribs. “Look at you. Look at you!” He held her apart, holding her by the shoulders.
Her left shoulder.
The mark was not there yet.
She felt a burning sensation on her skin. This is not real! She had to wake herself before it was too late. She heard a muffled voice in her ears, but the speaker was not her father. Her hazy senses recognized Corriveaux.