Can you show me the Twisted Tower, Maxel?”
“You want to see the Twisted Tower?”
“Will you trust me that far?”
Maximilian breathed in deeply. Distrust and uncertainty had been the twin pillars of their relationship before even they’d met. But now that that relationship had been utterly torn apart, it appeared to be progressing in leaps and bounds.
Now that it had been fractured… Ishbel’s mouth moved in the hint of a smile.
“If you wish, then certainly.” Maximilian fell silent, thinking. “But for this first time, I will need to touch you. It is the only way.”
“I don’t mind, Maxel.”
Nonetheless, Ishbel took a big breath as Maximilian pulled his chair close, hesitated, then lifted his hands and slid his right about the back of her neck, cradling her head, and lay the other against her cheek.
“Now it is you who will need to trust me,” Maximilian said softly. “I need to take your consciousness and turn it in a slightly different direction. You can stop anytime you want.”
“I trust you, Maxel.”
“Close your eyes.”
She did so.
“Relax your neck and shoulders. Let me cradle your head.”
She did this, too, though with some effort, as the intimacy reminded her so much of their brief period of almost happiness.
How long had that lasted? A week? Two? But even that brief time had been founded on lies and had collapsed at the first test.
“Ishbel, trust me.”
Trust me.
Ishbel’s mouth opened on a small, silent gasp. It felt as if Maximilian’s fingers had suddenly intruded right into her mind and were gently twisting it, just a little, very quietly, almost tenderly.
“Do you feel what I am doing with your consciousness, Ishbel? Do you think you could turn your mind so, on your own, later?”
His fingers were still so gently turning her mind. Their pressure felt very curious, but not uncomfortable or unsettling, and Ishbel could understand what he was doing.
He was turning her consciousness so that it altered her perception of her surroundings and of the world she inhabited.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She felt him smile, felt the alteration in the warmth that radiated out from his face.
“Good. Right about now, Ishbel, you should see a path before you. Do you see it? Do you feel it, beneath your feet?”
“Yes. Yes!”
And Ishbel did. She stood with Maximilian on a paved pathway that wound through a garden of low flowers and shrubs toward the most extraordinary structure she had ever seen. A tower rose before her, twisting in a corkscrew manner so high into the blue sky that she had to crane her head to look at it.
“Ninety levels,” said Maximilian. “One chamber per level, and one window only, at the highest level.” He smiled. “I have never seen this garden on either side of the pathway, Ishbel, nor have I seen the sky so blue. You brought that with you.”
She looked at him. He was smiling, and she thought he looked very relaxed.
“Now look to the pathway,” said Maximilian. “There are eighty-six steps to reach the door. You always need to take eighty-six steps, and you must learn to count them as you approach. Soon the eighty-six will become second nature.”
“Why eighty-six?”
“The tower is a thing of order. It is also a thing of immense memory…ordered memory. If you approach it in a disordered manner, then that disorder will reverberate throughout the entire tower. Come. Let us begin these eighty-six steps.”
He took her hand, and led her toward the tower. They stopped before the door, and Maximilian paused in the act of reaching out to grasp the doorknob.
“You open it,” he said. “Only someone of Persimius blood can open it.”
“Are you testing me?”
“No. I’m allowing you to do some of the work for a change.”
Ishbel bit back a smile, and laid her hand on the round brass knob.
Hello, Ishbel Persimius. Never before have I had a queen of the blood visit.
Ishbel’s fingers trembled a little, then they firmed and she twisted her hand so that the door clicked open.
She stopped, one foot inside the door, astounded at the clutter and crowd of objects in the room.
Maximilian put a warm hand in the center of her back, gently encouraging her inside a step or two.
“Welcome to the Twisted Tower, Ishbel Persimius.”
Maximilian led Ishbel through the lower chambers of the Twisted Tower. He showed her a few objects, and watched her face as she picked them up.
“I know what memory this plate contains,” she said. “It holds a memory to do with the opening, or raising, of Elcho Falling. Yes?”
“Yes.” He explained to her precisely what the memory meant, and what was its message, and the small frown cleared from Ishbel’s brow.
“How did I know that?” she said. “I knew the general gist of it, but not the particulars, which you needed to explain. But now that you have explained…” she turned the plate over, then returned it to its place on a table. “I know I will never forget it. But how did I have the basic knowledge, anyway?”
“That’s your Persimius blood,” said Maximilian. “We all have the basic understanding—we just need to have someone guide us through and restore to us a full and clear understanding of the memory of each object.”
“Ah,” she said. “I was being tested again.”
“Not at all. I knew you would know each object, and that you had the memories within you.” Maximilian hesitated. “In the same way that you knew the basic memory in that plate, so I knew the instant I touched you that you were of strong Persimius blood.”
They looked at each other, remembering that night when Maximilian had first come to Ishbel, and had seduced her.
“It is why I wanted you so badly that night, Ishbel,” he said. “I had come merely to say hello.” His mouth quirked. “I ended up doing far more.”
Now Ishbel felt uncomfortable, and a little irritated at the idea that he might now be trying to seduce her all over again. “I’m tired, Maximilian. It has been a long day. Perhaps we can go now?”
“Of course. Do you know how to leave?”
“Yes, I think so. I just need to twist my consciousness back the way it has come and—”
Ishbel’s head jerked in Maximilian’s hands and she opened her eyes with a start.
“Oh,” she said, staring at the inside of the tent.
Maximilian smiled. “Very good.”
He was very close, and Ishbel again felt deeply uncomfortable. She tensed her head, ready to pull it out of his hands, but he moved them first.
His left hand dropped away completely, but his right…the fingers of his right hand trailed down behind her left ear, then continued in soft, lilting movement down her jaw until they, too, finally dropped away.
Ishbel froze, staring at Maximilian.
That had been a signature movement of his when they had made love, a tender conclusion that he had almost always employed.
Ishbel had loved it, and always turned her face into it.
Now she sat rigid, unable to think or move.
Maximilian sat back. “You can find your own way into the Twisted Tower now,” he said. “You may go whenever you like.”
Ishbel ran her tongue about her mouth, trying to will some moisture into it, and finally managed to find her voice. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I might join you sometimes, and show you the meaning of more of the objects.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it doesn’t hurt to have two of us with the knowledge.”
“Oh. Maxel, if you have the basic memories of all the objects already within you, then why can you not remember the ones that were lost?”
“Because we need to touch the object, see it, to spark the memory carried deep within us. Did you know of that segment of the raising ritual of Elcho Falling before you touched the plate?”
“Oh,” Ishbel said again, and felt foolish. “I think I will say good night now, Maxel.”
“I have kept you far too late. I’m sorry.”
Ishbel rose, but Maximilian spoke once more as she reached the door.
“Ishbel, you may go whenever you wish into the Twisted Tower, but I shall demand a price from you.”
She turned back to him, her expression wary.
He grinned. “A flower. Give me a flower for every time you visit.”
“A flower?”
He gave a little shrug.
Ishbel looked at him, let out her breath in exasperation, then left.
After Ishbel had gone, Maximilian remembered that he should have reminded her of the Weeper. It was growing more insistent now, calling Ishbel’s name many times while Maximilian was about.
Maximilian sighed. Never mind. Doubtless he would find time soon.