The fog of forgetting, p.21
The Fog of Forgetting, page 21
“What does Dankar look like?” she said, trying not to sound worried. “Like you?” she asked hopefully.
“Are you asking if he is an Exorian warrior?”
Frankie swallowed. Her throat was parched. “Why do they look like that anyway?”
Louis slowed his camel to walk beside her. “You mean, their skin?”
Frankie nodded her head. “And their eyes. They’re so … empty.” She patted the hump of her camel with her free hand. “What happened to them?”
“To become a soldier of Dankar, one must face many trials and undergo great pain and sacrifice. It is an honor. The scales on a warror’s skin are a sign of his journey—the thicker the skin, the greater the warrior.” Louis put his hand to his chest, tracing the outline of a design. “I intend to join them.”
“What?” she cried. Her camel’s ears twitched; it growled and spat.
Louis looked at her sideways. “Warriors are revered in Exor. All male children aspire to the honor.”
“What about the girls?”
“They are appointed other tasks. No one is idle in Exor.”
“What about the scribes?”
Louis gave her a funny look. “There is no valor in becoming a scribe. Scribes are men who could not tolerate the initiation into warriorhood. Their daylights are too”—he groped for a word—“unstable.”
“What do you have to do to become a warrior?” She couldn’t imagine what someone might have to go through to become one of those monsters.
Louis gave her a small smile. “What I am told. You are helping me.” He tickled his camel’s ear, triggering a swift jog. “Bringing you to Dankar was an important test.”
Frankie swayed helplessly back and forth on her saddle, shocked; the road below passed too quickly under the camel’s long strides. In minutes it took them into a wide courtyard surrounded by thick, misshapen mud walls. Several layers of broad stone steps led to a columned pavilion and the entrance to a palatial building dug into the sand-colored hillside. Frankie felt a chill despite the heat and gripped the pommel of her saddle tightly.
Louis maneuvered his camel back to stand beside her. He nodded at the impressive facade.
“Home,” he said, his expression unreadable.
Frankie stared at him, stiff with fear.
He swung off his camel and lifted his arms to help her down.
“C’mon, I won’t bite.”
She swung one leg over and dropped into his arms. She wrapped her little legs around his middle and clung to him, like a baby being carried.
Louis felt the weight of the small girl in his arms and instinctively tightened his grip. “Don’t worry, Frankie,” he mumbled. “It’s not so bad here once you get used to it.”
“How long does that take?”
“Not long,” he said evasively, and set her down.
He led the way up the masses of steps, through the columned pavilion and into the palace. They passed through an archway and into an inner courtyard, verdant and warm, with a trickling fountain at its center. The courtyard was walled on all four sides, with narrow, arched windows and wood balustrades looking down from several stories. At each end pointed archways indicated halls that led in opposing directions.
“Wait here,” Louis ordered.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes climbing the walls of the courtyard nervously, trying to peer through the shade of the archways. For all she knew, Dankar could be watching her right now.
“Louis!” she called out after him.
There was no answer, except for the sound of the fountain. A spongy carpet of small, green tufts grew up between the flat tiles under her feet. Large trees with heart-shaped leaves and yellow and orange fruit grew in the corners. She thought one tree might be a lemon tree, but the fruits were too large. The water splashing into the basin of the fountain made her realize how thirsty she was. She kneeled before it and held out her cupped hands to catch some to drink.
“There is nothing like cool water when one has traveled a great distance,” said a low, silky voice behind her.
Frankie whirled around to face the speaker. A white-robed figure stood next to Louis in one of the archways. He was at least a head taller than Louis and—the most appropriate word Frankie could think of—handsome. Very handsome. His smooth skin glowed in shades of caramel and red as though it had absorbed the sunburnt colors of the Exorian desert. Gold bracelets lined his upper arms and a narrow gold wire encircled his closely shorn head. He crossed the courtyard toward her and she felt a sudden warmth spread across the distance between them, as if the sun were emerging from a cloud. The feeling was so pleasant that she was surprised to find small, hard eyes looking down at her. A trickle of fear, like ice, went down her spine.
“The boy tells me you have been teaching him French,” the man said.
“I did, a little. Is that … umm … allowed?” she mumbled, looking to Louis for reassurance.
The man attempted a smile, baring teeth that were alarmingly white. “Of course; we are always interested in learning new things, shut off as we are—here.” He gestured vaguely around the courtyard. “You must speak French to me, too, child; it has been such a long time since I have heard it.” He pressed his lips into a semblance of a smile again. “Hmm, let me think now, what is that word … the French word …” He tapped a long, elegant finger at his temple. “Ah yes, amie. That is it, isn’t it? Friend? You will be my amie, I think? And I will be yours. Ah—what a joy to recall another language. It has been too long.” Again, he waved his hand dismissively. “It is quite boring here. Everyone says things the same way. Not like”—he shot a pointed look at Frankie—“where you are from.”
Frankie shuddered. She was confused. Everything on the surface of this man, with the exception of his eyes, seemed friendly and welcoming, but it felt all wrong. As if he could sense her fear, the man took a few steps away from her, walking back toward Louis; his expression was indistinct in the glare of the open courtyard. His voice, however, continued to seep toward her.
“Now that we are friends, you must tell me your name and I will tell you mine.”
Frankie glanced over at Louis again. He nodded for her to answer.
“My name is Frances Martine Boudreaux, but people call me Frankie,” she whispered, feeling as if she were about to cry. Her emotions were racketing around her chest, and she did not know which was the right one.
“Frankie? That is a harsh name for a pretty girl such as you—such a delightful girl. And very brave, too, from what I hear. No, amie, you need a name that suits you better. As you have become accustomed to yours, I guess I shall call you Frances.” The soft syllables of her name slipped through his lips. He came closer again and knelt before her so that their eyes were level. “You know, Frances, I have no children of my own. Your escort, the one you call Louis, has come to look upon me as a sort of uncle, and I hope that someday you, too, will do the same. I have long desired a daughter. A girl of talent and intelligence—and curiosity.” The man laid his hand on Frankie’s head. “A girl I can trust with my secrets.”
The man’s praise was burning away at her misgivings. Warmth from his hand spread across her scalp, making its way down the back of her head and across her shoulders. His gold bangles sent shards of light across the courtyard. He held her gaze a moment longer and said quietly, “Frances, I am he whom they call Dankar, Lord of Exor and the Exorian people.”
Frankie took a step back, though it was not really a surprise.
Dankar’s ears twitched. “I can see that my reputation precedes me. But surely someone as bright as you must know that a person may be considered one way by his enemies and quite another by his friends.” He extended his hand. “And I am your friend, Frances, even if you are not mine. I ask you only one thing: Do not judge me by what others have told you. I ask you to stay here in Exor and then judge for yourself—”
“Am I a prisoner?” Frankie interrupted.
A flash of impatience crossed Dankar’s gleaming brow, but he regained his composure quickly.
“Prisoner? No, no. Think of yourself as my guest—my most valued guest. It is my hope that once you become accustomed to our ways, you will be happy to accept Exor as your home … as …” He paused, searching, then smiled, “as, ah, Louis has done.”
Frankie threw another searching look at Louis, who remained impassively at his post. She had the sensation that a small battle was being waged here, one that she was losing, and yet it did not feel terrible to lose. It felt easy, like changing into a new set of clothes.
Dankar rose to his feet, smiling a peculiar, satisfied half-smile, as if some question had been answered. He dislodged one of the gold bangles from his bicep and slipped it on Frankie’s small wrist. It was very loose, but as he slipped it up her arm, the band tightened until it stuck. Frankie’s fear and doubt evaporated completely. Instead, she was filled with a warm, relaxing—almost sleepy—delight, like a cat who discovers a patch of sun to rest in.
“A token of my enduring friendship, Frances. Now—won’t you join me for breakfast?” Despite the encouraging sensation of the bracelet, Frankie still hesitated.
“What about my sister—and the others?” she asked, feeling slightly dizzy.
Dankar sighed and raised his hands with the palms up, radiant.
“All of this fighting is just a misunderstanding. You know that, don’t you? Rothermel and I are family. Do you not fight with your sister on occasion? Such is the way in families. There are disagreements.”
“You’re related to Rothermel?”
Dankar nodded. Beams of hot light bounced off his crown.
“Then why do you fight with the Melorians? Why did you send all those warriors to attack them?”
Dankar patted her shoulder. “Do not trouble yourself with ancient history, dearest, or misunderstandings between adults.”
Frankie didn’t know what to say. Now that she was here with Dankar, he didn’t seem nearly as frightening as she’d imagined he would be. He seemed to care about her—and Louis.
Dankar patted her again, on the head, and led her past where Louis stood in the shade of an archway. He stopped.
“Join us.”
Louis bowed his head. “Uncle, I am always eager to do your bidding, but—the initiation—I have been wait—” He was cut off.
“You have performed well. Frances is here, unharmed. You will be rewarded with the honor you so desire. Your initiation shall begin tonight. Should you succeed, we will discuss your wish to enter warrior training.”
Frankie stopped in her tracks. She tore her hand away from Dankar’s and threw herself at Louis.
“Don’t do it! Please don’t do it!” she begged.
Strong hands pinched her shoulders and pulled her away.
“Frances, you are new to Exor, but soon enough you will come to see the honor of serving in my house. Your companion has achieved much; should he not be rewarded?”
Frankie searched Louis’s face for some sign of understanding. His features were regular and pleasing—and now familiar.
“This is something I want, Frankie,” he said. “I have wanted it for a long time.”
“Why? Why can’t you just stay the way you are?”
Louis looked past her. “It’s hard to explain; let’s just say it’s a necessary step.”
“But Louis … won’t it hurt?” She trembled just thinking about what a person would have to do to look like that.
Dankar firmly inserted Frankie’s hand back into his and resumed his gait. “Do you think, dear one, that I would allow someone so close to me—someone I have raised since boyhood—to risk his life for no reason? Your companion has long sought this honor. If he completes the warrior training, Louis will be the first of his kind to do so. It will be a great accomplishment! A sign of wondrous things to come.” He patted Frankie’s arm, leaving a rosy glow where he touched her skin.
She shook her head, not understanding.
Dankar looked quizzically at Louis and then back at Frankie.
“Has he not told you?”
“Told me what?”
Dankar chuckled as if just let in on a highly entertaining joke.
“Louis is one of you—an outlier—cast on the shores of Exor some years ago. We three have this ill fortune in common—and one other thing.” Dankar’s lips parted hungrily, baring his teeth.
“We all want to go back.”
Chapter 24
THE FOG OF FORGETTING
In Metria, time unfolded like a long, luxurious dream. Nothing much was expected of Chase, Evelyn, Knox, and Teddy, except that they bathe regularly, eat their meals, and not ask too many questions. The older children had not seen Rysta again since the first night, though Teddy was often called to her side.
“Maybe he can find out where our weapons are,” griped Knox. He, Chase, and Evelyn sat at the low table in the gathering room, where they were eating breakfast.
“Have you noticed something different about Teddy since he’s been spending so much time with Rysta?” asked Chase, slathering a delicious-smelling sweet bun with butter.
Knox shrugged. “Not really.” He peeled a banana and ate half in one bite.
“His lisp is better—it’s almost gone. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Knox took another bite and chewed and swallowed before answering.
“You mean weirder than landing on a mysterious island in the fog and not being able to leave? Or being hunted by some half-human fire god and his army of demons? Or wait—” He grinned. “How about weirder than hanging out with a guy who was on a ship that sank in a war over two hundred years ago? Like, weirder than that?”
“You know what I mean,” said Chase.
“He’s probably just outgrowing it.”
Chase turned to Evelyn. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s both,” said Evelyn. “Remember what Seaborne told us? The daylights are stronger on Ayda. Maybe that means that people grow faster and get stronger and other stuff goes away, like lisps and, maybe, other things.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Like asthma.”
“But if you are perfect like me,” Knox cut in, “you just get even more perfect.”
Chase rolled his eyes. Evelyn chucked a pillow at him. The morning wore on, as it had every day since they’d arrived in Metria.
Knox began to take long excursions into the bay to pass the time. Chase befriended Hesam, the captain of the ship they had met on their first day in Metria. She showed him several intricate, hand-drawn maps of Ayda and the Hestredes, and taught him basic navigation. Evelyn discovered that the anonymity of her Metrian clothes made it easy for her to mingle undetected with Rysta’s people and listen in on their conversations. She pieced together much of what she, Chase, Knox, and Teddy had already guessed: They would soon be taken to the city of Metria and kept there for their safety. Once grown, they would be free to settle wherever their daylights dictated. No one could say exactly when that would be; the best Evelyn could make out was that a child in Metria was considered grown when he or she heard the call of their own daylights.
Evelyn wondered if the daylights actually had a sound, or if the call was more like a thought that slowly grew from an idea to a certainty. Whatever it was, she was sure it hadn’t happened to her yet. And she was also sure that she had no intention of going anywhere until she had some news of Frankie. Several more days passed pleasantly enough, matched by an equal and growing sense of restlessness that was contagious. Soon this feeling—and their missing weapons—was the only thing Evelyn, Knox, and Chase could talk about.
“I can’t stay here another day without doing something to find Frankie!” said Evelyn, thoroughly exasperated.
She, Chase, and Knox were perched on top of the cavern’s ledge, overlooking the bay that led out to the river. As usual, Teddy was off with Rysta.
“It’s comfortable and nice and all, but … at this rate we’re never going to find her.”
“I think that’s the point,” mumbled Chase. He lay facedown on the sand-colored stone, the backs of his calves pink from the sun.
“What d’you mean?” demanded Evelyn.
“It’s pretty clear we’ve been sent here to be kept out of the way. Rysta’s going to take us to the city where she can keep an eye on us and Dankar can’t possibly reach us.”
Evelyn opened and shut her mouth, trying to frame what she wanted to say. She made a sour face. “Does she think I’m just going to forget Frankie? Does she think I’m stupid?” She looked pointedly at Knox for backup. He was wiggling a small pink stone out of the ledge with the toe of his bare foot.
Chase rolled over lazily and shielded his eyes so he could look up at Evelyn.
“She thinks we’re kids—which we are—and that you’ll get used to it eventually. You heard what she said. She hasn’t seen her brother or sister in—who knows around here? Hundreds, thousands of years?”
“Well, then, she doesn’t know me very well. I’m not going to get used to it or sit around waiting for some stone to come back before I see my sister again. We need to do something.”
Knox looked up, his interest piqued. “What kind of something?”
“Well, are we going to go with Rysta like good little boys and girls, or are we going to help Frankie?”
Chase pretended to yawn. He’d been afraid of this since Hesam had shown him a map of Ayda. He began to sketch the island into the dust of the ledge; its outline shaped like an elongated heart. Metria was at the far south. Exor lay in the opposite direction, north and west, and between the two lay a vast lake and an unknown number of towering mountains, not to mention Exorian warriors. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help Frankie; he did. But how? She was long gone by now, miles and miles away—so he said nothing.
Evelyn slapped her arms to her sides in frustration and glared at them. “Well?”
Knox picked up the loosened pebble and rolled it between his fingertips. “I’d help if I knew what to do. I mean, we don’t know where she is, where our weapons are—it just seems kind of hopeless. Besides, Rothermel was pretty clear about doing what Rysta says.”
