Authors: Anne Bishop
“My thanks,” Danyal said as he put the stopper on the jug. Because it would matter, he added, “May your heart travel lightly.”
The man flushed with pleasure—and relief. Those words, said by a Shaman, were a blessing heard by the world.
Danyal slipped the jug into the daypack, settled a strap over one shoulder, then headed away from the market, choosing the narrow western road that passed through woodland and fields. A couple of miles down that road was a bridge, and just beyond the bridge was a large tree where he could sit in the shade and enjoy his simple meal.
He wanted to travel,
needed
to travel. He wanted to spend some time in a place where he could be Danyal instead of Shaman. And he needed to find someone who could help him understand why, over the past few weeks, he felt more and more as if someone was always watching him, always aware of him through his connection to Ephemera. Not a malevolent mind, but not a passive, comfortable one either. Some days he wasn’t sure if that feeling was real or if his mind was breaking in some way.
Only Farzeen was privy to that worry about his mental health and
emotional stability; it was the reason Danyal’s old mentor had arranged for him to have a year’s leave from all duties.
He saw the bridge that spanned the stream and, beyond it, he saw the big tree where he would have his meal. His stomach rumbled. He laughed softly and lengthened his stride.
Halfway across the bridge, he wasn’t laughing anymore. The light dimmed and the air cooled with every step he took. The tree faded until it was no longer there. And a voice suddenly whispered,
not yours.
Cautious now, and unwilling to believe he’d heard what he’d heard, Danyal took two more steps closer to the other side of the bridge.
A breeze sprang up and pushed at his face, at his chest.
He took another step—and a gust of wind knocked him back.
not yours
A stubborn need to prove that his mind wasn’t playing tricks made Danyal lean into the wind. He regained the step he’d lost and took the last step on the bridge. His hand closed over the railing in a painfully tight grip as the land in front of him swam in and out of focus, making him feel dizzy and a little sick.
“What
is
that?” he whispered. Light, dark, shadow. The same, but not the same. And…
not yours!
The next gust of wind almost knocked him down.
Danyal carefully backed away from that end of the bridge. The wind swirled around him, pushing until he’d reached the halfway point. Then it vanished.
He stopped and stared at the big tree on the other side of the stream. It had faded when he tried to cross the bridge. Now it was back.
He didn’t think the strange land he’d seen on the other side of the bridge was evil, but it wasn’t part of the city, wasn’t part of anything his people knew. And something wanted him to keep his distance from it.
Retreating to his side of the bridge, Danyal sat on the bank of the stream and forced himself to eat his meal.
What had just happened? Why had land he’d known all his life faded, only to be replaced by something else?
heart wish
Danyal felt currents of power flow around him, through him. He sprang to his feet, alarmed. Then he forced his breathing to slow down.
This
was the awareness that had been watching him for the past few months. Maybe he could get some answers.
“Who are you?”
A hesitation that held hope and disappointment in equal measure.
world
“Ephemera?”
yes yes yes
Ephemera, the living, ever-changing world was actually
talking to him
? How? Why?
Danyal did nothing but breathe as he considered what was happening. The voice that whispered to him might be the world, but in his head it sounded like a child, and like a child, it might flee from anger or demands.
He had asked a question. Ephemera had tried to answer.
“What heart wish?” he asked gently. And what, exactly,
was
a heart wish?
not yours heart wish. danyal heart wish. she will know.
Know what?
he wondered. “Who is she?”
Instead of answering, the currents of power drifted away, leaving him shaken.
He needed to tell the Shaman Council at least some of what had just happened. He needed to tell Kanzi not to use the bridge on the western road. And, privately, he needed to ask Farzeen if the Elders knew anything about heart wishes—or had ever heard of the world
speaking
to a Shaman instead of manifesting emotions into tangible pieces of itself.
Danyal tore up the rest of his meal, scattering it for the birds and other creatures. Then he settled the daypack on his shoulder and hurried back to Kanzi’s house.
When he reached the house, his nephew took the daypack, handed him a sealed letter, and gave him privacy.
Danyal broke the seal and read…
Danyal,
A darkness has come to the city of Vision. We do not know its name or its nature, but now we are certain it is there. Shamans who tend pieces of the northwest and southern parts of the city are reporting that they can no longer see some streets they had walked last season, can no longer sense what is taking place in the hearts of the people who live there—can no longer be a voice for the world because something is making us blind and mute.
We promised you a year to rest from your duties and search for what your own heart seeks. We are breaking that promise, and it grieves me that you will have to end your visit with your nephew and return immediately to take up your new duties as the Keeper of the southern Asylum.
We know you are tired, and we know this is a difficult task—and I alone understand the cruelty of asking this of you when you are concerned about your own sanity. Shamans are not usually Asylum Keepers. We are too attuned to the inner landscapes of the people around us, and being around the broken day after day eventually breaks us too. But the bone readers and fortune tellers are all sending us the same message: there will be a convergence of allies and enemies in a place of shadows—a madman and a teacher, a guide and a monster. The madman is the reason we want one of our own as Asylum Keeper.
The council considered every Shaman, regardless of age, and we all agreed. It comes down to you, Danyal. You are not like other Shamans. You never were, and what your own heart needs is something the Elders cannot give you. Because of that and your unusual ability to see the hearts of others so clearly, you are the one chance we have to save Vision. As much as you love this city, you are seeking something beyond what you can find here. We are hoping the needs of your own heart will lead you to the person who can help us see and understand the enemy.
We will give you every assistance we can, but in the end, it is your voice that will speak for us all—and for our piece of Ephemera.
Travel lightly,
Farzeen, on behalf of the Shaman Council
Danyal folded the letter. Yesterday he would have wondered if they were sending him to the Asylum to find a madman or because they believed he was one. Now that he knew he was sane, he couldn’t tell the council about what happened on the bridge, couldn’t tell them the world had spoken to him. He didn’t want this assignment, but he needed to be the one who took it because Ephemera’s words floated through his mind:
not yours heart wish. danyal heart wish. she will know.
The world communicating with him now wasn’t a coincidence. Not when parts of the city were changing and a strange piece of land appeared and disappeared.
“Let your heart travel lightly, because what you bring with you becomes part of the landscape,” he whispered.
Then he left the room to find Nalah and give his excuses—and to find Kanzi and warn him to stay away from the bridge on the western road.
L
ee followed one familiar road after another, maintaining an easy walking pace that covered a good bit of ground in a day. He’d been using his little island to travel between landscapes, as he’d promised Yoshani he would do, but the weather was fine and the walking helped soothe the restless unhappiness he couldn’t shake. Just like he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be somewhere else.
But where was that somewhere else? That was the main reason he was walking so much instead of using his island to shift from one bridge location to the next. He’d been keeping a log for the past nine years. He knew where his bridges were located. But keeping an eye out for connections
other
Bridges had made with his mother’s or Glorianna’s landscapes required being close enough to feel their resonance. Therefore, he was walking so he could check out anything that caught his attention.
It was a good cover story, and he was going to stick to it—especially since it gave him an excuse to avoid his family as well as friends like Teaser, who lived in the Den of Iniquity. The incubus had spent an hour the other night telling him about a girl he had
befriended.
No sex, just walks and a little
talk and holding hands. For an incubus, such behavior was unheard-of unless it led to the kind of steamy dreams the incubi fed on.
A couple of years ago, Teaser wouldn’t have considered doing such a thing, but a lot of things had changed in the Den when Sebastian fell in love with Lynnea and opened up possibilities that hadn’t existed.
Everyone has a chance to change except me
, he thought, struggling to push away the anger and bitterness that often filled him.
All his life, he’d never doubted that keeping Glorianna safe from the wizards was worth the things he didn’t dare want for himself—like a real lover or having a piece of his life that wasn’t defined by what his sister needed. Lately, he’d begun to wonder if anything he’d done had ever mattered. Did anyone in his family realize how frightened he’d been during those years at the Bridges’ School? The instructors had watched him, always ready to report him to the wizards if he manifested some oddity in the power that allowed Bridges to connect pieces of Ephemera. They had watched for any sign that he might be in contact with his sister.
Even after he left the school, he had to report back a couple of times each season to list the bridges he’d created or broken or reinforced. He reported the bridges in his mother Nadia’s landscapes and those he’d made in other Landscapers’ pieces of the world, but he never admitted to traveling in any of Glorianna’s landscapes.
Nine years of being friends and partners as well as siblings. Nine years of being the person she trusted with the landscapes in her care as well as being one of the few people who knew how to find her. Then Michael, a Magician from a country called Elandar, walked into her life and everything changed.
Why have a brother for company when she could have a lover?
You’re jealous because you have to share?
Sebastian had said, sounding pissed off and appalled.
Grow up, Lee.
Easy enough for Sebastian to say. He hadn’t been in the thick of it day after day. He’d been the Den of Iniquity’s premier bad boy, an incubus who could pick up lovers just by strutting down the Den’s streets.
Lee sighed as he reached the bridge he wanted to check. That wasn’t a
fair assessment of Sebastian or the incubus’s life. “I wasn’t pissed off because I have to share,” he muttered. “I
want
Glorianna to be happy. I just—”
The bridge in front of him blurred. Light, dark, and in between. One moment it was a stationary bridge that linked two of his mother’s landscapes, and the next it was resonating wildly in a way he’d never felt before—as if something were grabbing blindly in a desperate attempt to find a handhold anywhere.
Then the blurring stopped and the bridge was back to being a stationary bridge.
“Guardians and Guides,” Lee whispered, feeling as if he’d been spun around and shaken. He’d felt something like this only once before, when Michael’s sister, Caitlin Marie, had yearned for someone who could understand her. That yearning had resonated through the currents of power so strongly, he had been able to follow the resonance and find her. But Caitlin had been a single resonance. This almost felt like three that were entwined somehow.
What—or who—was he supposed to find this time?
Currents of power swirled around him once, twice, thrice.
When the ground felt steady again, Lee turned away from the bridge and reached for one of the trees that bordered the path to the center of his little island.
No bark under his hand.
Alarmed, he took another step. Then another.
Where…?
Exerting his will, he resonated with the island—and finally felt it on the other side of the road, a dozen paces from where he stood.
Sweating now, he hurried to the island and stepped up onto ground not too dissimilar from the land he’d just left. Getting a firm grip on the tree in case he became dizzy, he closed his eyes and thought,
Sanctuary. Take me to Sanctuary.
He heard water. When he opened his eyes, he saw the stream and the stepping stones that led from the island to the bank. He saw the guesthouse where he had a room that was always ready for him—a courtesy, since Sanctuary was one of Glorianna’s landscapes.
Picking up his daypack and his large travel pack, Lee stepped off the
island, crossed the stones, and headed for the guesthouse. He slipped up to his room quietly, glad he’d avoided Michael’s aunt Brighid as well as Yoshani, who acted as host and counselor to the people who, in need of peace or guidance, found their way to this part of Sanctuary.
Glorianna also had a room here, connected to his by the shared bathroom. But she hadn’t left the Island in the Mist since she’d returned from
that place.
He shook his head, unwilling to think about that right now—especially when his skin felt clammy all of a sudden.