Jimmy the Hand (34 page)

‘Hmm,
pretty sure,’ answered Bram.

He wondered at
who that lad might be and why he’d buy Horace to go riding
north, but decided to focus instead on where Lorrie might be. ‘Where
would I find this young lady, Yardley Heywood’s granddaughter?’

The trader gave
directions. Bram hurried on into Land’s End, his head whirling.
He’d expected to find Lorrie lost, or hiding in some cheap inn.
And she’d made a friend? A wealthy one, too, from the sound of
it. And what of Rip?

Elaine stirred.
She was still uncertain of the state in which she dreamed, for she
knew she must be dreaming. There had been pain in the dreams at
first, but after many awakenings Elaine was able to distance herself
from the pain. Never easily; it demanded attention and refused to be
tamed, but for a time she could go beyond it and feel it as a distant
thing. She endured these times, straining to hear if anyone was
nearby. Sometimes she’d make out the croak of a night-bird, or
perhaps a distant shout. But otherwise she seemed to be alone.

It puzzled her.
She was the Baron’s lady and she had just given birth. Where
was everyone? Why didn’t someone help her? How long had she
been like this? And most horrible, was this how she was going to be
for the rest of her life?

She knew her
body lay unmoving, or at least she suspected that much. So she
assumed she had become trapped in some sort of elaborate dream, but
one which had a connection to the waking world.

The pain had
been her first conquest, and then had come the terrible thing that
had tormented her. Time was difficult to measure: she was certain
many hours, even days, had passed since she had given birth to her
child. Perhaps she was struggling with an illness contacted in
childbirth, or a fever that had come after delivery.

Whatever the
cause, she had struggled, surfacing to something that resembled
consciousness then lapsing into periods of vagueness in which
memories floated. Sometimes she experienced images so strong she
wondered if they were real, perhaps the sort of prophetic visions
some witches or holy women were reputed to have; or perhaps echoes of
a distant past, or someone else’s memory. Then came the
blackness again. Two things were constant, the blackness and the
pain.

Between the
periods of blackness, Elaine called for help in her mind, raging and
shouting and wishing evil things to happen to her husband who had
abandoned her like this. Once she felt something touch her body. The
cold touch, the sense of something slimy gliding across her skin,
beneath her gown: a violating intimacy, uninvited and repulsive. Yet
she could do nothing about it. Was that horrible touch real, or a
memory? The fear and outrage that accompanied the sensation was real,
for she remembered crying out in silent revulsion,
Leave me alone!
And the touch had gone away. Had it returned, or had the next merely
been the memory of the first touch? She couldn’t tell.

Over time, her
mind grew stronger and the fear and revulsion turned to anger and
calculation. Occasionally she remembered a conflict, a moment of
defiance when she had rejected something that had oppressed her, but
she couldn’t recall the details. Vile things had been
tormenting her and she had somehow attacked them; she conjured up
images in her mind of the vile things having bodies and with hands
formed by her mind she reached out and gripped them. They tried to
flee but she tore at their substance, rending and tearing until they
were but shreds and strands that seemed to evaporate into
nothingness, leaving behind a lingering cry of pain and fear.

She had sought
for something beyond the pain and the cold intruder, as she thought
of the evil, slimy touch. Then she had found them, things lurking in
the corners of the estate.

She sensed their
presence, shocked, fearful, indignant that anything could harm them;
they were hiding from her. Soon she would sleep again for she was
very tired. But she wanted another, wanted very badly to destroy them
all. Yet though they lurked nearby she could find none of them. She
must make them come to her. Between periods of darkness, she plotted
in her dreams. Lucidity came infrequently, but she realized that if
she was dreaming, she could dictate the rules of this dream, and she
would have it out with these lurking shadows in her mind.

Elaine pretended
to sleep; suppressing all thought, she waited. Eventually one of her
enemies came forward to test her and Elaine grabbed it.

She squeezed it
and it howled, yanking her this way and that as it tried to flee.
Finally it came to some sort of barrier and began to drag itself
through. Elaine held on, trying to drag it back so that she could get
a better grip on it. But this one was stronger than the first had
been and persisted in its struggles. Finally it dragged her right up
to the barrier, leaving very little of itself in her imaginary hands.

It was like
being pressed against something hot and hard, yet she could feel
herself slipping through and gripped the thing in her hands tighter.
If she lost her grip she didn’t know where she might find
herself, but she didn’t want to be in worse case than she
already was so she held on for dear life.

Suddenly she
could see! Elaine was so startled that she released the thing she’d
been clinging to. It was daylight, but there were candles all around
her bed. Then she felt herself rising, light as dandelion fluff and
with no more control; she struggled to stop her ascent and succeeded
only in turning over so that she could see below her.

Elaine found
herself staring at her own body lying on the bed.
Am I dead?
she wondered. She had heard tales of people floating over their
bodies, seeing mourners or visions of their homes before being taken
to Lims-Kragma’s Hall of the Dead. Such tales were told by
those whom the healing priests had recalled the instant before their
transition from life to death.

Then she saw her
chest rise, ever so slowly: but she was breathing! She examined
herself closely. She didn’t look at all well.
Am I dying?
She panicked and tried to bring herself closer to her body, waving
her arms as though swimming, then realized that she had no physical
arms. She had no body around her! The shock of that realization
caused an instinctive reaching out, as if trying to grip her own
physical being with her spiritual hands. Suddenly, she was back
inside her body, back with the pain and the long, slow silence. Her
tormentors were gone: she could feel that she was alone again. Then,
suddenly, like a candle being snuffed out, awareness was gone.

When awareness
returned she understood; the ‘dreams’ as she had thought
of them were her mind leaving her body, while the waking stages had
been her mind being trapped within. She must learn to control this
ability, to set her mind free, she decided.

How long it took
she did not know but with much concentration, Elaine found that she
could leave her body behind and float from room to room, going
through walls and floors as though they were made of water.

The manse was
dirty and nearly deserted. The few people she found were the kind of
mercenary scum that even her father wouldn’t have hired, yet
many wore the garb of the household guard.

Her enemies
still lingered, but they never came near her any more. Sometimes she
seethed at the thought of what they had done to her and hunted for
them. At other times she was almost grateful to them, for they had
shown her the way out of the darkness and the pain. Mostly she wanted
to see them, to find out what they were. Then she’d decide what
to do about them. Were they supernatural beings? Or ghosts? Or agents
of some other power?

Where is my
baby?
she wondered suddenly. Then was amazed that the thought
hadn’t occurred to her before. How could she forget her only
child? Her little boy. She must find him.

But it was too
late, she could feel herself being pulled back. Elaine didn’t
even fight any more, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop
it. At least she didn’t have to be there all the time. Before
she was sucked back into her ailing body, she saw that the candles
had burned down quite a bit.

When next she
woke she heard the voices of children! A girl’s voice echoed in
the distance, calling to her. At once Elaine found herself in the
corridor and for the first time in a long time sensed the presence of
those horrors who had abused her so. She called out,
This way!
Round the corner of the hallway came a small group of children, two
girls and two boys. They looked exhausted as well as frightened.

Hovering over
them, Elaine saw her enemies for the first time. They looked like
tendrils of black smoke, writhing and twining in and out of a central
blackness, and they projected fear and an icy cold.

This way,
she called again, pointing toward the door of her chambers. Over and
over she shouted to them. At last one of the girls seemed to
understand, leading them to her door. They piled into her room and
slammed the door shut behind them.

Elaine swept
toward the black cloud furiously, snatching at one of its tendrils.
It pulled back, retreating slightly, keeping just close enough to
tease. Rather than waste her energy, Elaine went back to her room and
hovered protectively over the children, pleased by their presence,
delighted by the littlest one; he was perhaps seven or eight years of
age, and despite being very frightened, he carried himself well.

She sensed her
enemy lurking in the corridor, but it did not attempt to enter. It
was only then that she saw the warding on her walls, traceries of
light, of command, of this-shall-not-change. Perhaps someone had
heard her pleas for aid after all.

As she listened
to the children talk she found that they were desperate to escape. It
saddened her that they found her as terrifying as the entity in the
corridor, but she supposed she couldn’t blame them.
If only
I could help the poor little things.
Elaine peered into the
corridor; the thing snickered at her and she withdrew.

As she looked
around her room she sensed an older warding and sought it out. She
went through the wall and rediscovered the hidden passageway there.
Her husband had shown it to her the day he installed her in these
rooms. ‘They go all through the manse,’ he’d said.

She saw the
youngest boy staring at that wall, and something in his eyes told her
he was on the verge of understanding. She spoke to the girl who had
led the others to her rooms, telling her about the passageway,
telling her the key was in the sculpture on the wall. Soon she could
see that she was listening. She got up and went to the carving,
testing all the little projections until she found the right one.
Oh,
bright child!
she thought.

Then she was out
of time again, being drawn back to her body. She might never find out
how this ended and was frustrated indeed. She wished she could wake
up for good.

When she next
awoke, Elaine wondered about the children, especially the girl who
seemed to hear her. As she pictured her she suddenly found herself
beside her. This had happened before, but she had no control over it.
She would think of some person or place and find herself there, but
only within the confines of the manse. She’d never yet been
able to even enter the rose garden. But she did have access to
everywhere and everyone inside the house. Except for Bernarr. When
she thought of him she found herself in the presence of a much older
man. An uncle or cousin, she’d assumed, since she knew his
father was deceased.

She didn’t
really mind that he never came here any more; she hadn’t loved
him and she didn’t miss him. But she did want to see her baby
and her little one must surely be with the Baron. She sighed and the
candle one of the boys was holding flickered.

‘Be
careful!’ the oldest girl almost cried, her voice sounding very
loud in the passage.

The younger
girl, the one who sometimes could hear Elaine, whimpered, but was
bravely holding back her tears.

Elaine’s
heart melted for her. They were all covered with streaks of dust and
looked exhausted and the food-sack tied to the older girl’s
belt looked sadly empty.
Poor little things,
she thought. They
needed a refuge, but
her rooms
wouldn’t do. She
frightened them, and the old man who looked like Bernarr slept there.

“S’not
my fault! There’s draughts,’ the boy holding the candle
said, his youthful anger at being blamed for something he didn’t
do overriding caution and the need for quiet.

The others said
nothing but watched the stub of the candle anxiously. It was plain
they were afraid of being left in the dark.

Elaine
remembered a place they could hide that should do very well. Bernarr
had brought her there just after she’d arrived. ‘It is
warded so that when you wish to be private no one will bother you
here.’ He’d smiled proudly. ‘It shall be your own
sanctuary.’ She’d felt no need at all for such a place,
but he’d been so proud of his gift that she’d smiled and
leaned up to kiss his cheek, a kiss he’d claimed with his lips.

‘Come with
me,’ she whispered to the girl who seemed to hear her. ‘I
know a place where you’ll be safe.’

Neesa stood up,
looking down the dark passageway. Her crying stopped and she smiled.

‘What is
it?’ Mandy hissed; her eyes glittered in the candlelight as she
tried to look in every direction at once.

‘Let’s
go this way,’ Neesa said like someone in a dream. ‘It’s
the right way.’ She walked off.

Kay and Mandy
looked at one another, but Rip pushed himself to his feet and started
after Neesa. ‘C’mon,’ he said impatiently.

Mandy got up and
followed. ‘You coming?’ she threw over her shoulder at
Kay.