Bridge of Dreams

Chapter 14

Danyal watched Lee from a distance, letting Zhahar and Kobrah deal with the man. They helped him at meals and led him to the toilet and bathing room. They walked him to the temple, where he struck the gongs and released a little more of the sorrow in his heart. The rest of the time he spent on the screened porch, sitting quietly, which gave Zhahar time to tend to the other inmates in her care.

As a Shaman, Danyal walked the grounds of the Asylum, much as he’d walked the streets of Vision in the years before he’d been assigned to the Temple of Sorrow. And he walked around the porch thrice a day, making his presence a balance between the world and the troubled hearts confined to this place, and making himself available to anyone, inmate or staff, who wanted to talk.

This time he stopped when he came abreast of the woven lounge chair Lee occupied.

“You look content,” Danyal said quietly. Lee’s eyes were closed. Zhahar had been putting the eyedrops in morning and evening, but it was too soon to expect any change in the cloudiness. Still, he would like to see the man’s eyes.

And he was curious what Lee might have seen in his own eyes.

“I am content,” Lee replied with a smile. “There is shade, a breeze, a comfortable chair, water to drink, and I have nothing to do.”

“Would you like something to do?”

Lee laughed. “Daylight, no. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had the luxury of doing nothing for this many days?”

“How long has it been?” Danyal asked, lacing his voice with amusement.

“Since I finished my training at the Bridges’ School and started traveling to maintain the bridges needed to connect various landscapes. Even when I stayed over a day somewhere to rest, there was always the weight of duty.” Lee’s good humor faded. “But a blind man can’t wander through the landscapes on his own, so that duty isn’t mine anymore.”

And that’s both a relief and a sorrow for you, Danyal thought. “Come along. On your feet.”

Lee tensed. “Why?”

“We’re going to take a walk.”

“Why would anyone want to take a walk in this heat?”

Not hostile, but definitely the tone of a man who wasn’t used to taking orders—and was wary of obeying most of the ones he was given.

Danyal looked at the screened window above the chair where Lee sat.

“Because I would like to understand you better,” he said. “Because the room behind you is currently unoccupied and has a window that looks out onto the porch—and it gets the cooler night air. Because I could decide you are rational enough to be given that room and some privileges instead of being returned to an isolation cell after the evening meal.”

“Be lazy and stay in isolation or take a walk and get a real room.” Lee swung his legs off the lounge chair and got to his feet. “You drive a hard bargain, Shaman. You’re an amateur compared to my mother, but still, you drive a hard bargain.”

“Put on your glasses, then take my arm,” Danyal said. After Lee put on the dark glasses and wrapped a hand around Danyal’s upper arm, they headed toward one of the porch doors that opened onto the grounds. Danyal nodded to Nik, who unlocked the door and held it open for them. “Two steps down.”

They navigated the steps, then headed off on one of the paths toward the decorative water garden that was shaded by palm trees—a mystery whose sudden appearance had startled the groundskeepers and unsettled him.

“Waterfall?” Lee asked when they paused.

“A created one,” Danyal replied. “And a clever one. The cascade of water over a series of stone ledges produces a restful, pleasing sound. A small windmill drives the pump that circulates the water. It has a crank, so when there is no wind, it can be manually turned. There are plants in and around the water that the groundskeepers are not familiar with, as well as several gold and white fish with long, graceful tails.”

“Koi.”

“What?”

“The fish. They’re called koi. There’s a koi pond in”—Lee paused—“a place I used to visit. Is there a bench nearby?”

“There is.” Danyal studied Lee. “This was a stagnating reflecting pool surrounded by weeds during the tenure of the last Keeper. Despite our groundskeepers’ best efforts, the reflecting pool remained unpleasant and unclean. Two days ago, it disappeared, replaced by this waterfall and pond, and these unknown plants and fish. How would you explain that?”

“Either this was here all along and so overgrown no one realized what it was, or Ephemera made a swap in response to someone’s heart, and now some country home in some other landscape has a stagnating reflecting pool surrounded by weeds instead of a pretty water garden.”

“Or? I did hear the silence of a third possibility.”

Lee turned his head in Danyal’s direction. “Or you’re more than you say you are, and Ephemera made this because you wanted a pretty water garden for the people here.” He waited a beat, then added, “But I’d bet on the swap. You might be able to guide the world into shaping the waterfall, pond, and plants, and even bringing in the fish, but it couldn’t make the windmill and pump. People made those.”

Dumbfounded, Danyal just stared. “Are you saying the city stole this water garden for the Asylum?”

“No, I’m saying Ephemera stole it for the Asylum. It’s getting to be a fairly clever thief,” Lee finished in a mutter.

A moment later, Lee stepped away from him. “Daylight! Did you just fart?”

“I did not,” Danyal replied coldly. Then he clamped a hand over his mouth and nose.

“Ah, shit.” Lee grimaced. “Sorry. That one is on me.”

The smell intensified and seemed to be much closer. So close that Danyal’s eyes watered. He grabbed Lee’s arm and headed away from the water garden.

They went toward the main building, and the smell eased. Didn’t completely vanish, but it eased enough that Danyal could take a clean breath.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Stinkweed,” Lee replied. “It pops up when a person swears. Never saw the da— stuff until a few months ago, and I haven’t smelled it since I arrived in this city.”

“Then what…?” Danyal stopped and stared at the two men walking quickly to intercept them. “Could it also be a warning?”

Instead of answering, Lee tensed at the sound of hurried footsteps.

“There you are, nephew!” Styks said heartily. “We were worried when we found your bed empty.”

“Do you remember us?” Pugnos said.

“Of course,” Lee replied just as heartily. “It’s Bonelover and Trapspider. Been chewing up many corpses lately?”

A weird silence surrounded them.

“You know who we are,” Pugnos snarled.

Lee gave them a vacant smile and said nothing.

“I think Lee has had enough stimulation today,” Danyal said, watching the other men.

“Lee?” Lee’s smile faded. His voice sounded confused, almost fearful.

“You are Lee,” Styks said solicitously.

“Oh.” Lee paused. “Do I know you?”

The two men stared at Lee and looked as if they wanted to beat some sanity into him. Or do something much worse.

“Gentlemen,” Danyal said firmly. “Lee needs quiet time now.”

“But we came to see him,” Pugnos protested.

“And you have,” Danyal replied. “And you can see that he is much improved—at least in body.”

“Yes,” Styks said softly. “We can see that.” He reached out, but Lee shrank back enough to avoid being touched. “You are always in our thoughts, nephew. In that way, we are always with you, always aware of you.”

Something under the words made them sound like a threat.

Danyal looked past the men and noticed Nik and Denys, another Handler, watching them at a discreet distance. He nodded.

Styks turned. His face tightened when he saw the men. “We’ll go now.”

Danyal held Lee’s arm while he watched Styks and Pugnos walk back to the visitors’ gate, feeling the tension and the slight tremble in the muscles. “Do you truly not know who they are?”

“I know what they are.” Lee’s voice was low and harsh.

Anger bordering on hatred. And fear. Rock slides and quicksand.

Spotting Zhahar, Danyal raised a hand. She quickly joined them and slipped an arm around Lee’s to guide him back to the inmates’ residence.

Danyal watched them, then focused on the direction the two “uncles” had taken. “I don’t know what to think about those men.”

A few moments later, he gagged on the smell rising behind him. Turning, he looked at the flower bed. A large half circle of flowering plants was missing, now replaced with squat green plants that stank. But it was the other plants, rapidly growing in the center of the stinkweed, that kept him there, despite the smell. Leaves so dark a green they were almost black. Fleshy pods swelled as he watched, and when they split and the flower began to push out…

They looked—and smelled—like turds steaming in the hot sun.

Gagging, he retreated and grabbed Teeko, the first groundskeeper he saw.

“There is a vile-smelling weed in the bed by the main pathway,” he said, pointing toward the spot. “Get a barrow and a shovel. Dig those things up and burn them.”

“Yes, Shaman. Right away.” Teeko rushed off.

Danyal hurried to the private washroom connected to his office. He scrubbed his hands and washed his face twice—and still couldn’t get rid of all the stink.

As he walked back into his office, Teeko tapped on the open door.

“Shaman? You sure you want us to dig up that plant? It’s a pretty little thing. And you didn’t say if you wanted that rock dug up with it.”

Danyal stood there, not knowing what to say. “Can’t you smell it?”

“Oh, there’s a foul smell around there, to be sure. I’m thinking we’ll find a soiled pair of pants stuffed under a bush nearby. But it’s not coming from that plant.”

Then you’re not looking in the right place, Danyal thought as he went back outside to point out the plants.

Except the stinkweed and the turd plants weren’t there. Instead there was a chunk of polished, black-veined white marble beside a delicate little plant covered in buds and one open, rose-colored flower.

Light. Hope.

“I was mistaken,” Danyal said. “The smell isn’t coming from the plant.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Teeko said. “Might have broken my heart to dig up that little plant.”

An odd thing to say—and absolutely true.

“The only other thing we found was this.” Teeko held out a gold pocket watch. “Thought the visitors might have dropped it, but it’s broken and looks like it’s been in the ground for a while.”

Danyal took the watch and returned to his office. But he couldn’t settle at his desk to read the daily reports or take care of all the other things that demanded his attention. Instead he stared out the window.

The Shamans were the voice of the world, but he had never seen the world respond like this, had never experienced it responding like this. Except at the bridge in his home village when the wind had pushed him back and didn’t allow him to cross to the other side.

I don’t know what to think about those men.

Moments after he’d said those words, those plants had started growing—and blooming. As if the world had expressed its opinion, telling him plainly enough what it thought of those men.

And then to have those plants disappear and be replaced with marble and that other little plant?

Was this happening to other Shamans? Or just him? Was he that different from the others, or had something changed around him that had, in turn, changed him?

Or was the change here being caused by someone else?

Ephemera flowed through the currents of Light and Dark in this part of itself, listening to all the tangled hearts. But it wasn’t supposed to listen to those hearts, wasn’t supposed to make what those hearts wanted unless a Guide told it to.

But that one didn’t belong in this part of itself. That heart yearned for a different place.

Ephemera flowed away from that heart and went to see if the Voice-guide it had found wanted to play again. The Voices that walked in this part of itself helped it stay balanced, allowing Light and Dark currents to flow in response to the hearts that lived here. But this Voice could be a Guide to the world, could play with it like the Music did, like she did. She was like the Old Ones, like the first Guides of the Heart that it had shaped long ago. She had known how to be a Guide to the world and played with the world, helping it remake parts of itself. She was teaching the Music how to play with the world and shape small makings. She and the Music would teach Voice-guide how to play too.

Now the world and the Music were playing the Lee-heart game. The Music met the world at the playground on her island and played the song from the Lee-heart. He gave the world all the bits of stolen time to leave where the Lee-heart would find them, so the Lee-heart would know the Music had not forgotten him.

And it had found the Lee-heart in this part of itself that was far from her landscapes! And the resonance of the Lee-heart in this part of itself had changed a Voice enough to become Voice-guide for the world!

Then the dark hearts had shivered through the Dark currents of this place, dimming the Light in all the hearts, even the Lee-heart and Voice-guide.

When Voice-guide wanted to know what was in those hearts, it had shaped a small making and shown its new Guide.

After Voice-guide went away, it took away the dark making and made the Lee. Stone like she used for Sanctuary—light with veins of dark. Heart’s hope, full of promise. And a bit of stolen time.

But another heart took the time.

It had many bits of stolen time and could fetch more. The Lee-heart would find one, and the Music would be happy.

Ephemera circled around this part of itself again, listening to the hearts, listening to the yearnings that wanted this part of itself to change just a little, just enough to connect with another piece of itself.

Listened to the heart wish that came from three hearts that were one heart. A heart wish that was also being made in another part of itself.

Hearts that needed the Guide, needed her.

It would return to the playground and show the Music what it had found. But first…

Ephemera listened to that one yearning heart that didn’t belong in this part of itself.

She wouldn’t be angry if it reshaped a piece of itself to make that one heart happy. Not if it was a small making that would feed the currents of Light.

Pleased, Ephemera remade a piece of itself before traveling through the currents of power and returning to the Island in the Mist, where she and the Music waited.

Feeling edgy, Lee sat on a lounge chair in the screened porch, listening to Kobrah and a couple of cleaning people prepare his new room. A big jump from an isolation cell to a room for the almost normal. There was a bolt on the door to keep inmates from wandering when they became agitated, but his impression was that these rooms were similar to spartan accommodations that could be found in many places where travelers couldn’t afford luxury. He’d stayed in enough places like that in the years when he’d been a Bridge for Glorianna and Nadia.

He hadn’t lied to Danyal when he said he was content to do nothing. Nine years of doing with little time to rest was enough. He’d done enough. His last effort to save his sister and mother and their landscapes had put him in the hands of the enemy and left him blind. Hadn’t he given the world enough of himself?

Apparently not, because being in the hands of the enemy had led him straight to Danyal—a Landscaper in desperate need of a Bridge. Some of the inmates were truly mind-sick people, and some were troubled because they were in the wrong place and needed to cross over to the landscapes that resonated with their hearts.

The best he could figure, the Shamans were the Landscapers for this part of the world, keeping the currents of Light and Dark power balanced, tending the landscapes that leaned toward the Dark as well as the Light. He was pretty sure Danyal was one of the rare Guides of the Heart. Like Michael, the Magician. Like Glorianna Belladonna.

He was also pretty sure something that had been dormant in Danyal had woken up—or responded to another resonance. Again, like Michael, who had more of a connection to Ephemera than the other Magicians in Elandar, but that connection had become more direct and immediate after Michael found Glorianna.

Glorianna wasn’t here, but he—a Bridge—was. Someone who connected pieces of the world, allowing people to cross over to the landscapes that resonated with their hearts, regardless of the physical distance between those places. Sometimes it was the landscapes that pulled at him, wanting a connection. Sometimes it was a person.

If Shamans were the Landscapers in Vision, who were the Bridges? Who connected the various pieces of this city?

Shouting and the sound of people running brought Lee to his feet. Then he swayed there for a moment before sitting down again.

Nothing he could do.

That wasn’t as pleasing a thought as it had been a little while ago.

Danyal stared at the rough stairs leading down to stone walls covered with vines and listened to the inmate down there, just out of sight, laughing and weeping with delight, saying this is where he belonged. This place.

Several Handlers were crowded behind him, including Zhahar. As his eyes skimmed over them, he realized he was looking for one other person: Lee.

As Danyal took the first step down into this place that hadn’t existed an hour ago, he felt a strong hand grab the sleeve of his white robe, felt two heart-cores where a moment ago there had been one.

“You shouldn’t go down alone,” Zhahar said.

“Come, then,” he replied.

She followed him down. It was cool and shady near the stairs. When they rounded the bit of wall that blocked their sight of the rest of the place, they stopped.

Sunlight and heat and air that almost dripped with scents. Vines clung to the stone walls, and he could almost see the bunches of small fruit growing as he watched. Vito, an inmate who had been indifferent to his surroundings, touched the plants and the stones, laughing and weeping with a joy that could have broken Danyal’s heart if he hadn’t heard Zhahar’s choked sob.

“He’s so happy,” she whispered. “It’s as if his heart woke up. But…what is this place?”

Not a part of Vision, Danyal thought. There were vineyards in some of the northern communities, but there were no grapes that grew like this. Not in Vision.

And how had this place been made when no man had picked up a shovel to dig or a barrow to haul stone?

“Shaman?” Zhahar pointed to something gold that poked up from the ground near the vines and caught the sunlight.

He walked over to the spot and picked up the broken pocket watch.

“Shaman Danyal, isn’t it wonderful?”

Danyal looked at Vito, a man whose heart-core had been mud and stone. Now…Dawn. Clean water. Rich earth. The abundance of a good harvest lovingly tended.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” he replied, then added gently, “Tend your vines until the evening meal. Then you must come in and rest.”

“All right, Shaman. I will.”

Danyal went back up the stairs with Zhahar. He tipped his head at Denys. “Stay with him to make sure he comes to no harm. Observe him.” He turned to Zhahar. “Escort Lee to the temple.”

“What should I tell him?” she asked.

Summer rains, both gentle and fierce. Madman or teacher? “Tell him the voice of the world wants to talk to him.”

“Could you pick a pace and stay with it?” Lee snapped after stumbling for the third time because Zhahar couldn’t settle on whether to go step by ponderous step or sprint to the temple.

“The Shaman wants to see you,” Zhahar snapped in return. She tightened her grip on his arm and put more muscle into hauling him down the path.

“Hey!” Lee stopped so abruptly, she was pulled around and smacked into his chest.

Two resonances. Two familiar resonances where there had been one a moment before. He grabbed her left arm. Even through the jacket he felt the jagged, raised scar before it seemed to withdraw into the skin.

“What happened that’s got you bouncing out of your skin?” he asked. He could almost feel her panic at his mention of skin.

“We— I’m not. It’s just…unsettling.”

“Then shouldn’t the Shaman and the Handlers be taking care of whatever this is?”

“We don’t…It’s never…Places can shift, but not like this.”

“Places shift?” What does that mean? If it meant what he thought it meant, Zhahar knew more about the world than she was saying. And wasn’t that interesting?

“Lee.”

“Just tell me why the Shaman wants to see me, because I know that calling himself the voice of the world means we aren’t going to be having a friendly little chat.”

He felt her hesitate, felt her struggle to regain control of herself.

“There’s a new place in the Asylum,” she finally said. “It wasn’t there and now it is, and no one knows why.”

“Is anyone happy about this?”

“One of the inmates. He thinks he belongs there.”

“Then he probably does.” Still didn’t explain why Danyal wanted to see him, but it explained all the shouting before Zhahar came to fetch him.

She finally settled into a reasonable pace—or someone did—and they arrived at the temple. Didn’t need to wonder if Danyal was there, because the gongs were sounding. All the gongs. Quietly, yes, but Lee would have bet a week’s worth of chores that the Shaman hadn’t struck any of those gongs with a mallet. Voice of the world, indeed.

Zhahar helped him up the steps and into sorrow’s room.

“Leave us,” Danyal said.

Lee felt her hesitate before she retreated, closing the door behind her. That was nothing more than a token gesture of privacy, since he could tell by the breeze that all the windows were open, and he didn’t think anyone was going to have to strain to eavesdrop on this conversation.

“Don’t need eyes to know you’re pissed off about something,” Lee said. “Shouldn’t you be dealing with it instead of chatting with me?”

“Maybe chatting with you is the only way to deal with it,” Danyal replied.

Lee felt the other man come closer, felt the way the song of the gongs seemed to vibrate against his skin. Judging by what he could sense of Danyal’s mood and temper, if the Shaman walked across a resonating bridge right now, he’d find himself in a dark landscape that had few, if any, connections to the Light.

“Things are happening in the city of Vision that have never happened before,” Danyal said. “I think you know why.”

Lee turned his head toward one of the windows, straining to hear. Was there someone out there besides Zhahar? Had he heard the scuff of a boot under that window? Could he have heard anything beyond the sound of the gongs?

Things were happening in the city of Vision. If he kept his voice low, would anyone outside be able to hear him over the gongs?

He waggled a finger, signaling for Danyal to move closer. When the Shaman was close enough that he could feel the man’s heat, he asked quietly, “My uncles told you about my sickness? About my delusions?”

“They told me,” Danyal said just as quietly.

“So you know you can’t believe any answers a madman gives you in response to your questions.” Lee paused. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask the questions.”

Did Danyal understand the message in the words?

Lee was fairly certain he wasn’t always being watched by those who had given their loyalty to the thrice-damned wizards, but he could never be certain that he wasn’t being watched. As long as Danyal—and Zhahar?—continued treating him like he was mind-sick insofar as what he said, he could tell them anything, everything, that might help them understand what was happening to their city.

And in helping Danyal, he might be able to do something for himself.

Danyal walked past him and opened the door. A moment later, Zhahar joined them.

“I’ve had a special cane made for Lee,” Danyal said. “I think, with some help, he can learn to navigate around the Asylum’s grounds on his own.”

“Oh,” Zhahar said.

Did she sound disappointed? Guardians and Guides, he hoped so. He’d like an excuse to be with her when she wasn’t taking care of him. And he wanted some independence so he could spend time with the woman instead of the Handler.

“Besides the daily session with the gongs to bring troubling emotions to the surface, where they can be released, Lee will also spend time talking about the events that brought him here,” Danyal continued.

“Ah…” Lee said.

“These talks can be combined with physical exercise, which will improve the body and promote healthful sleep.”

“Aren’t we a bundle of suggestions all of a sudden?” Lee muttered. He raised his voice enough to direct the words to Danyal. “If there is going to be talk, there will be a fair exchange.”

“Meaning?”

“In the city of Vision, you can find only what you can see. I’d like to know more about this city and how it works. I’d like to know more about this part of the world. So, an exchange. I’ll tell you what I know, and you tell me the equivalent. And you shouldn’t always be the one having these chats with me.”

A pause before Danyal said, “Really?”

“The Keeper can’t be spending that much time with one inmate. That won’t go unnoticed, and getting noticed right now isn’t healthy for any of us. Don’t you know anyone who might have an interest in the world beyond Vision who would give you an accurate report?” Lee asked.

“My sister Sholeh,” Zhahar said quickly. “She’s something of a scholar—or would have been if she’d been able to continue with her studies. She could do this, and she’d be very thorough in her reports.”

“Not to mention having her older sister nearby to keep an eye on her?” Lee asked sweetly.

A startled pause.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to take her walking in the moonlight,” Zhahar said, sounding defensive.

“No, I’m not interested in taking Sholeh for a walk in the moonlight.”

Another pause before Danyal harrumphed. “I could arrange my schedule to have these discussions in the evening.”

“Wasn’t what I had in mind,” Lee said. “I don’t hear Zhahar offering an opinion.”

“Judging by her expression, that’s probably for the best,” Danyal said. “That will be all. Zhahar, escort Lee back to the porch. And ask your sister if she’d like to participate in these discussions.”

“Yes, Shaman.”

Lee felt her grab his arm and haul him to the door.

“Step,” she snapped.

He managed to get down the steps without falling. His longer legs made it easy enough to keep up with her, but he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t smack him into a tree. So he dug in his heels and yanked her to a stop.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“My sister is a loving, intelligent woman!”

“I’m sure she is,” Lee replied mildly.

“Any man would be lucky to take a walk with her in the moonlight.”

“I’m sure that’s true too—unless the man is interested in taking a walk in the moonlight with you. Going out walking with two sisters?” Lee shook his head. “That’s just asking for trouble—not to mention getting whacked with a spoon.”

“What?”

“Wooden spoon with a long handle. My mother’s preferred disciplinary tool. What does your mother use?”

“My mother had daughters and didn’t need tools.”

She released his arm and walked away.

“Zhahar?” Lee called. “Zhahar! Daylight, woman. Are you going to just leave me here?”

He heard footsteps behind him and braced for an attack, until he recognized the resonance he now associated with Danyal.

“Are you usually skilled with women?” Danyal asked.

“Not so much,” Lee replied sourly. “Are Shamans celibate?”

“Not so much.”

“Then don’t sound smug. There’s a woman out there at this very moment waiting to tangle up your life.” He’d found the woman who was going to tangle up his—at least for the foreseeable future.

Another of those pauses. “Did you leave someone behind, Lee?”

“Not the way you mean.”

“Come,” Danyal said gently. “I’ll escort you back to the porch. We both have much to think about.”

“Yes, we do.”

After passing Lee over to a frowning Kobrah, Danyal intended to go back to his office and work. But he wasn’t used to this heat, and the room had little air at this time of day, so he headed back to the temple to think. Then he changed directions and walked along the main path, stopping when he reached the small plant and the black-veined white marble.

Light. Hope. Inmates and Handlers alike seemed to find their way to this spot at some point in the day in order to look at this plant. Just for a moment. And it seemed that another bud opened in response to that person’s presence.

Madman or teacher—which one was Lee?

He had started to turn away when a glint of gold caught his eye.

That pocket watch hadn’t been there a moment before. He was sure of it.

Crouching, Danyal pushed his fingers into the dirt and picked up the watch—and would have sworn that, in the moment when his fingers closed over the gold, he heard music.

Michael lowered his tin whistle and shifted on the bench that sat on the safe part of the playground. “Glorianna, come take a look at this.”

Glorianna took a step toward him, then clamped both hands over her nose. “I’d rather not.”

“Now, don’t be getting all prissy. It’s just a smell.”

“Well, at least…” She pointed a finger, then adjusted direction so she wasn’t pointing directly at the house. “Ephemera, shift the wind so it blows that way.”

yes yes yes

When the world shifted the wind, she stepped into the gravel side of the playground and sat beside Michael.

“All right, wild child,” Michael said. “Show Glorianna what you just showed me.”

Palm trees that held the scent of dusty heat. Dark plants whose flowers looked like turds. Stinkweed. A heart’s hope. Grapes and a different, earthy smell. Lots of sharp, jagged bits of stone. A piece of granite. A wilted water lily.

And a gold pocket watch.

“You found Lee,” Glorianna said as she studied Ephemera’s message.

“Don’t know what landscape he’s in, but, yes, darling Glorianna, the wild child found him.” Michael bumped her shoulder with his. “What’s Ephemera telling us?”

She felt Belladonna scratching along the threads that connected the Light side of her heart with the Dark. Threads Michael shaped and strengthened each day by playing the music he heard in her—the music that wasn’t just Belladonna or just Glorianna but was both. Not who she had been, but who she was now.

“It found Lee,” she said grimly. “And it found some wizards in the same landscape.”

Michael nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

And wizards, among a people who didn’t know what they were, could twist enough hearts to change the resonance of a landscape before anyone realized the danger. Nothing she could do about them, and nothing she could do to help Lee. Not yet. So she would take care of the things she could do something about.

She gave Michael a sideways look. “That wasn’t all you were thinking, Magician.”

“It wasn’t?”

“You were thinking that parts of that landscape need to be returned to where they belong.”

“I was thinking that?” Michael asked innocently.

She sighed and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs. “Ephemera? Hear me.”

???

“Take the parts you shifted to that landscape and put them back where they belong.”

???

“Put. Them. Back. Now.”

!!!

Michael frowned. “There’s no cause to be using that tone, wild child.”

!!!

Glorianna looked at her lover and narrowed her eyes.

“Now, don’t be giving me that look,” Michael said. “I’ve made some mistakes when I’m talking with the world, and I’m bound to make more, but this I didn’t do. Whatever it is.”

“Well, someone…” Glorianna studied the offerings in the sandbox. “Is there a Landscaper in that landscape?”

yes yes yes

Everything sank under the sand except the piece of granite.

“Anger makes stone,” she said reflectively, “and strength makes stone. That stands for strength.”

“If Lee and this Landscaper are in the same place, let’s hope they can help each other.”

“Let’s hope.” I can do more than hope. Ephemera, hear me.

She sent her heart wish through the currents of power, both Light and Dark.

A whisper of another heart wish came back to her from an unexpected place.

She gripped Michael’s hand. “Come with me.”

The quick grin and the heat in his smoky blue eyes faded as he studied her face. “I’m guessing we aren’t going inside for a nap.”

“No.” She paused and considered the feel of his mouth and the touch of his hands. A different kind of music that also reached both sides of her heart. “Not yet anyway.”

They left the playground and went to her walled garden, the place where she tended all the landscapes in her care. She led him to the part that held the dark landscapes.

Michael studied the triangle of grass. “It’s still tugging at you, isn’t it?”

“It is. It resonates with me—or some part of it does—but not enough to cross over. The call isn’t strong enough yet.” She looked at him, her partner in so many ways now. “Do you hear anything, Magician?”

“The music of the place, you mean?” He tipped his head and closed his eyes. “Chords. Three notes played together. Not a tune, as such. Dark tones and light. I’d be careful about going there unless I was sure of my welcome.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

“It is.”

“Why are you asking? Are you thinking it might not be yours?”

“Oh, I know it’s mine—or will be.”

Glorianna hesitated. She hadn’t told Michael, hadn’t told anyone that the dark landscape that held the Eater of the World—the landscape that should have been closed to everyone—was a place Belladonna could reach simply by taking the step between here and there. And sometimes she craved the power she had wielded there without constraints, without conscience. That was the main reason she felt so wary of that triangle of grass that was almost an access point. Belladonna could cross over to the Eater’s dark landscape, but she wasn’t sure if Belladonna would be able to leave again—and she was sure the part of her that was Glorianna wouldn’t survive.

“I felt a heart wish in the currents a few minutes ago,” she said. “Faint, but it was there. It felt like it came from the landscape where Lee is, but it also has some connection to that landscape.” She tipped her head to indicate the triangle of grass.

“But it’s not Lee’s heart wish.”

“No.” Let your heart travel lightly. The best thing she could do for Lee—and the rest of the family—was remember the truth of that saying.

She smiled at Michael. “Let’s go take that nap.”