Authors: Anne Bishop
Lee sat on the porch and felt the air suck the moisture from his skin. Guardians and Guides! If this place didn’t have the big screened porch, it would be unbearable. Too bad they weren’t allowed to sleep out here. If you had to endure this kind of heat at least part of the year, a big, screened room
at the back of the house with woven chairs and a couple of cots for sleeping could be a comfortable way to live.
Maybe he could add on a screened porch to his cabin in Aurora. Jeb would help him build it, so it shouldn’t cost too much. Something to think about.
Something
else
to think about.
In the city of Vision, you can find only what you can see. From what he’d been able to piece together, that worked pretty well for these people and was just another way of living in the landscapes that resonated with your own heart. Yes, it worked pretty well for the people whose lives could be fulfilled by the landscapes held within the city. But what about the people whose hearts yearned for something beyond Vision? Sure, they could buy passage on a ship or one of the passenger coaches that made a circuit to other cities, but that method of finding a heart wish left too much to chance. Sholeh had been studying everything she could find about Vision, and nothing she’d told him indicated the city had the equivalent of resonating bridges like the ones that existed back home or the Sentinel Stones in Elandar that took a person to the place that matched his heart.
There was nothing here for people like Vito, who had become heart weary to the point of becoming mind-sick because he had no way of finding what his heart needed.
He hadn’t done anything that he wouldn’t have done back home. Of course, the timing could have been better. Having four inmates disappear—especially the ones who vanished from locked rooms—hadn’t done anything good for Danyal’s emotional balance. With a little more time, he was certain he could have convinced the Shaman of the value of giving people another way to find their place in the world. But now two of the Shamans had been murdered, and those deaths would feed the Dark currents in the city.
He didn’t have time. None of them had time to wait and see if all the problems would cross over a bridge or take a wrong turn and simply go away.
He had a stone in his pocket that he could make into a one-shot bridge that would take him back to the Den of Iniquity. He could be home in a
minute. Or maybe, since Michael was the person looking for him, he could go to Dunberry or Foggy Downs, just in case Glorianna’s landscapes were out of reach. Or he could go to Darling’s Harbor, where Caitlin Marie now lived. There was a stationary bridge connecting Darling’s Harbor to Aurora. Caitlin could cross over and ask the family to meet him in Darling’s Harbor. He had options, and the “come home” messages Ephemera was leaving on the Magician’s behalf told him clear enough he didn’t have to leave his family behind, no matter where he’d gone.
If he made a one-shot bridge to Sanctuary and gave it to Danyal, it was likely the Shaman would reach that Place of Light. He was sure Danyal would benefit from talking with Yoshani.
The problem wasn’t leaving; the problem was how to get back. If two landscapes didn’t resonate with each other, a bridge couldn’t be made to connect them. Finding help wouldn’t matter if no one could get back here. He’d thought about it for days now and came to the same conclusion every time: he couldn’t count on returning.
The other thing he’d thought about was whether a Tryad could use any kind of bridge. Would the aspect in view be the deciding factor of where they could go, or would a place have to resonate with all three of them for them to safely cross over? What would happen to them on a resonating bridge that determined a person’s destination by matching what was held in that person’s heart?
Zhahar. So much passion waiting to be touched. He hadn’t forgotten Zeela’s comment about Zhahar wanting to rub skin with him. Oh, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. And he hadn’t dismissed that this woman had come into an unknown city, alone, to find help for her people. He understood that kind of commitment too.
He wanted to know her better, wanted to know her in ways an inmate couldn’t know a Handler. He might be given extra privileges—or had been until those four men disappeared—but he was still an inmate, and being intimate with him would cost Zhahar her job.
He wanted to see her and wasn’t sure he ever would. Not well enough. Not for all the fine details he’d like to know. But he would settle for not seeing her well over not seeing her at all.
If the island still answered to him, he could have brought Zhahar and Danyal with him. Even if they couldn’t step onto the landscape he’d chosen, his family could have gathered on the island to talk to them.
There
was
a possibility for Zhahar and her people: that triangle of grass that had appeared in Glorianna’s garden. A dark landscape that wasn’t quite dark, that almost had a border that connected it with the Den, but wouldn’t truly be connected until it became one of Glorianna’s—or Belladonna’s—landscapes.
A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bring these people and these lands to the attention of Glorianna Belladonna and ask her for help. But Glorianna Belladonna didn’t exist in the same way anymore. While he didn’t know which side of his sister would be drawn to Vision, he
knew
Zhahar’s homeland called to Belladonna, the monster. So it came down to one question: would bringing Vision and Zhahar’s homeland to Belladonna’s attention give these people the help they needed or destroy them?
Danyal left the Asylum and walked for hours, stopping every so often at a shop or a house to ask for a drink of water. Except for that brief contact, he spoke to no one.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking or even quite where he was when he stopped to rest beneath a palm tree and realized he’d let grief lead him to physical imprudence.
Heat sick. He knew the symptoms. The day after he’d arrived at the Asylum, Benham had made sure he knew what to look for, in him and in Handlers, Helpers, and inmates.
“Shaman?”
He turned toward the voice, but it still took him a moment to see the man standing a few paces away from him.
Shadowman.
“Do you need help, Shaman?”
Yes, he needed help and…
Danyal looked in the opposite direction and spotted the bridge arching over a channel of water.
Cross the bridge
, a voice whispered.
You’ll find the answers you seek on the other side of the bridge.
Did he recognize that voice? Had it scratched at him in dreams?
When he turned back, the shadowman was standing right in front of him, holding a jug.
“Water?” the man asked.
“Who…?”
“I’m an Apothecary.”
“I don’t remember a bridge near the shadow streets,” Danyal said as he accepted the jug. He took some water, letting it ease the dryness in his mouth before swallowing.
“There isn’t one,” the Apothecary replied. “I closed up my shop. Decided it was time to do some traveling. My wagon is right over there.”
“Where are you going?” Danyal asked.
The Apothecary smiled grimly. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t be on that street anymore. Will you give me your blessing, Shaman?”
“May your heart travel lightly,” Danyal said, letting the words flow through his own heart to make them the voice of the world.
The Apothecary hesitated. “I’m not heading in any particular direction. Can I give you a ride back to the Asylum?”
What you seek is on the other side of the bridge
, the whispering voice insisted.
Hurry, before it’s gone.
Something in Danyal shivered. “How did you know I’m from the Asylum?”
“Saw you on the street a while back, but you didn’t see me. A couple of days after that, a woman came into my shop. Has a long scar on her left arm. Said she was there for the Shaman who was the Asylum’s Keeper.”
Danyal looked toward the bridge again and frowned. Was the land on the other side of the bridge
fading
? He handed the jug back to the Apothecary. “I would like a ride, but there is something I need to look at first. This will take only a few minutes.” Some instinct made him add, “The woman you saw is named Zeela. Her sister Zhahar works as a Handler.”
“I’ll get my horse and wagon and wait for you,” the Apothecary said.
A little breeze suddenly played with the hem of Danyal’s white robe.
“Wait.” He said nothing more until he was sure he had the man’s full attention. “If anything…odd…happens around that bridge, I need you to go to the Asylum and report what you saw to a man named Lee. He has knowledge that is not common to our city, and everyone should listen to whatever he says.”
“You expecting trouble?” the Apothecary asked sharply.
What you seek is on the other side of the bridge
, the whispering voice insisted again.
“I don’t know,” Danyal replied. He walked toward the arched bridge. Walked across the bridge. Stopped before taking that last step.
The land looked…strange. Barren. Sticky.
Sticky webs and treacherous bogs.
Hurry
, the voice whispered.
He was heat sick. What was he really hearing?
???
A puff of air in his face, bringing the scent of stinkweed and turd plants. Combined with the heat, the smell was enough to make him gag.
If he took the last step, was there someone on the other side of the bridge who had the answers to what was happening in Vision?
!!!
One foot on the ground now while the other remained on the bridge.
Seeing the glint of something poking out of the dirt at the edge of the bridge, Danyal took that last step, bent down, and picked up the gold pocket watch. When he straightened up…
Five of them. Two burly men holding clubs. The two wizards, Pugnos and Styks, who claimed to be Lee’s uncles.
The last one wasn’t human. Danyal couldn’t hold on to the details of the face to
see
it, except to know it was dark-skinned, had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
Mouth full of worms. Sweets filled with poison. The slow death of a city.
Dark Guide.
“You shouldn’t have interfered,
Shaman,
” the Dark Guide said. “You
shouldn’t have hidden the Bridge from us by hiding the Asylum. You have become more than an inconvenience, so you will disappear.”
The voice sounded like claws slicing through his flesh.
Danyal swallowed hard and eased one foot back until his heel rested on the bridge. He needed help. He needed a way to escape.
this way
The pocket watch began to tingle. His hand tightened over it as he eased his foot back a little farther.
Pugnos and Styks rubbed their right thumbs over the pads of their first two fingers—and smiled viciously.
The Shamans had no understanding of these wizards, no way to fight this
thing
. He had to get back to the Asylum so that Lee could help him find the people who
did
understand.
Before all the Shamans died.
Before Vision disappeared.
this way
The pocket watch felt warmer.
“Do you think you can outrun wizards’ lightning?” the Dark Guide asked, laughing. “Try.”
Let my heart guide me to what I seek.
Danyal sent that wish into the world with all the strength he had.
The pocket watch tingled so hard it buzzed against his palm.
Danyal spun around and ran back across the bridge.
He saw the Apothecary standing next to the horse and traveling wagon. As his foot touched the apex of the bridge, something struck his right shoulder and hip, burning through his robe and clothes, burning through skin and into muscle.
He stumbled, staggered, and almost fell as he adjusted to the footing of the cobblestone street in front of him.
Night instead of afternoon sun, and a refreshing crispness in the air that heralded a change of seasons. Cobblestone street instead of packed earth. Colored lights on poles gave the place a festive look, but…
Something out of nightmare stepped out of one of the buildings—a
cross between a man and a bull. Danyal lurched away from it and gasped at the pain in his shoulder and hip.
He kept moving down the street, and with every step the tingling in the pocket watch faded a little more.
He reached a place that had a courtyard with tables and erotic statues. Suddenly a dark-haired man stepped out into the street a few paces in front of Danyal. Another man, this one with light brown hair, stepped out beside the first. A third, a blond, moved in front of a woman.
The dark-haired man rubbed his right thumb against finger pads. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I seek…help,” Danyal said.
“There’s some grand music in him,” the brown-haired man said quietly.
“That doesn’t explain what he’s doing here,” the dark-haired man replied.
“Bridge,” Danyal gasped. Hard to think past the pain. Hard to breathe past the pain. “And…this.” He opened his hand.
“Lady’s mercy,” the brown-haired man said. “I asked the wild child to take the pocket watches to Lee.”
The dark-haired man moved close enough for Danyal to see the sharp green eyes. “You know Lee?”
“Y-yes. As…y…lum.” His legs began to buckle. If he asked, would they give him water? “H-heat sick.”
Another male voice, probably the blond, said, “Daylight, Sebastian! He’s been hit by lightning!”
Sounds. Voices. Movement. Everything coated in thick syrup. Hands taking away his clothes. Hands gently touching him. The relief of cool water drawing the heat from his skin. Feeling ice-cold and shivering uncontrollably while he burned.
Sounds. Voices. Movement. Then music, so familiar and nothing he’d heard before, wrapped around him, and everything else went away.
Z
hahar hurried to the visitor’s gate with Kobrah and Nik on her heels. A man who had news about Shaman Danyal. A man who wouldn’t speak to anyone except Zeela’s sister and Lee.