Minutes lengthened into hours. Lyle refused to move, although his body grew stiff and cold, especially around the holes in his outfit where his fins poked out. Eventually, Ben gave up trying to coax communication out of Lyle. Lyle tried to blot out the waves of crossness and misery he sensed cascading from Ben.
Lyle attempted to distract himself by listening to the drip of water from the roof of the cave and the hush hush of the sea not far off. The intermittent rumblings of Ben's starving tummy, though, grew nigh deafening.
Lyle could endure Ben's sorrow—it was for Ben's own benefit—but not Ben's hunger. Fixing it, albeit temporarily, would require only a small drag on his powers.
He knew that the Daffodil's pizza had delivered itself into Ben's lap when he discerned Ben's gasp of surprise. Lyle savoured the piquant scent of cheese and pepperoni. He allowed himself a glimmer of satisfaction listening to the rustle as Ben prepared to eat.
"Thank you," said Ben. "Are you ready to talk now?"
Lyle bit his tongue. No. No more discussions. He just hoped Ben enjoyed his pizza, like he usually did when they spent happy evenings together at the flat…
No good thinking about those anymore either. That life was all done with. Biting the inside of his mouth to the point of pain, Lyle tried not to wallow in self-pity. To have less than six months of happiness, in a life as long as his, didn't seem fair, but it was probably more than he deserved.
Only a short while had passed since Ben ceased munching the pizza when a strong current of air swept through the cave. Lyle unfurled himself and sat up. At the only end of the tight space where it was possible to stand, a door cracked open and two merfolk stepped in. One—Emmet, brandishing Welwyn's old staff—Lyle knew instantly. The other figure he recognized as one of the Wise Ma.
As the door in the rock vanished again, Ben shuffled on his bottom to Lyle's side. Ben's trembling and slightly greasy hand found Lyle's, and Lyle, despite his hours of trying, hadn't the heart to reject him. He guessed the Wise Ma, although magnificent to Lyle, must appear strange and terrifying to Ben. Sil was small as a child, with petite and pixie-like features. Yet sils eyes—large silvery pools of swirling cloud and shadow—masked an ancient wisdom, Lyle felt sure of it. Sils skin was pale green, smooth as a rock washed clean by the tides of ages. Oh, and sil had no less than eight long fins, flaring through holes in sils loose white robe. What grace!
"Lyle," said Emmet coolly, "get off your arse and kneel before your betters, child."
Lyle let Ben's hand drop and moved to obey, not because Emmet had asked him to, but through sheer awe of the Wise Ma. As he stooped to kiss sils outstretched fin, sil whisked it away to brush his chin, prompting him to lift it.
"So this is the suspect." Sils timbre was both mellifluous yet somehow sharp, like honey leavened with blood. "I do perceive a troubled mind with concealed depths. It could be madness." The mesmeric effect of sils gaze vied with Lyle's lurch of terror. He'd suspected sil would pronounce something like this, but hated having it articulated out loud in front of Ben. "But I don't see a killer here," sil concluded, letting Lyle's chin drop.
"Look harder then," demanded Emmet. "I told you—I watched him slay. This demon of an undine impaled the noble lord Welwyn, his own brother, on a stalagmite as thick as my leg. It was no madness; it was cold-blooded murder."
The Wise Ma never raised sils unblinking gaze from Lyle. Withering under sils scrutiny, Lyle wished the ground would crack open beneath him and swallow him up. Surely sil saw the horrible truth now?
"Did you kill your brother?" sil asked. "I'll know if you're lying."
"He didn't!" Ben launched forward as he shouted. Hooking his arm around Lyle's, he kneeled at Lyle's side. Lyle let his breath escape him slowly and fought yet another high tide of despair. Confronting the truth was hard enough without Ben rendering it heart-breaking all over again.
"Ben," he whispered, "this isn't your fight."
"Stop arguing with me, love," said Ben, and Lyle wondered if he detected the merest hint of a wry laugh. The Wise Ma, meanwhile, regarded both of them with placid interest.
"Shall I send the troublesome human away?" said Emmet. "I did not ask the birds to bring him. His presence was a mistake."
"There are many mistakes in this universe," said the Wise Ma. "This man's being here is not one of them." Sil fixed on Lyle alone again. "I would like to hear your answer now. Do you plead guilty or not guilty to the charge of murder levied by your cousin?"
"I honestly don't remember what happened," said Lyle, finding himself rewarded with a squeeze from Ben. "But it's my word against Emmet's, and he saw what he saw."
"Did he indeed?" The Wise Ma swivelled sils skewering gaze onto Emmet; Lyle sagged into Ben, as if sils scrutiny had been somehow sustaining as well as impaling him. Maybe conjuring the pizza had drained him after all. Ben caught him and patted his midriff. "There's only one way to find out," sil continued. "I need to break into one of your heads to discover what was actually witnessed."
"What?" squeaked Lyle and Emmet as one.
The Wise Ma explained the process, which turned out to be a magical one, as opposed to the physical operation Lyle, and no doubt Emmet, had momentarily feared. Through the power of hypnotism and enchantment, the Wise Ma could transfer the essence of sils consciousness into either Emmet's or Lyle's memories. There, sil could uncover everything, including experiences that the individual under examination had forgotten or repressed.
"The process is not without risk," sil admitted. "It can cause great distress to the subject being interrogated. In worse cases, it can cause madness… or death."
"You better get into Lyle's silly little head, then," said Emmet. "It probably won't make much difference. The child's mind is already addled as a pickled eel's."
"If you call me a child one more time," growled Lyle, "I'm going to ram your bloody tentacles up your ruddy—"
"Sssh, it's not worth it." Ben, still tight at Lyle's side, restrained him and glared collectedly up at the Wise Ma. "Is that really the only method you can think of?"
"There is a way to ease the passage and lessen the risk," sil said. "That is, to blend my consciousness with one who loves the subject and let them probe with me." Sil turned back to Emmet. "Have you one who would do this for you?"
"He's had at least six wives," mumbled Lyle. "There ought to be a queue."
"There is not though, is there," said the Wise Ma, answering for Emmet as he scowled and flinched away. "The Lord Emmet has little love in his heart, and so his heart is unloved in return. But you?" For a brief instant, the swirling mists in sils eyes calmed as sil smiled down at Ben. "You love Lyle dearly, and he you. Love sparkles from your every move."
Ben matched sils smile with his own tremulous one and shrugged. "It's all a bit of a no-brainer, isn't it?"
"It's your brain I'm worried about," said Lyle. He'd passed beyond anguish. He felt drained and so, so tired of having his heart and soul battered from all angles. Every time he tried to let go, to plummet into the abyss, Ben refused to let him fall. "Really, I can't let you do this. There must be a terrible risk for everyone involved, right?"
The Wise Ma nodded. Ben pecked the tip of Lyle's nose. "I'm not asking you to let me, love. I want to do this. I'm not scared of what I'll see."
"I am," muttered Lyle, then he gnashed his teeth as Emmet leaned forward to ruffle his hair.
"You should be," drawled Emmet. "Oh, Lyle, my little cousin—just when you thought it couldn't get any worse? Your own darling lover boy is going to prove that you're a murderer."
Lyle gratefully latched onto his fury with Emmet—anything to not have to dwell on the true purport of Emmet's words. "You do realize that 'little cousin' qualifies for the same punishment as 'child'?"
"It's still not worth it." Ben's palliative touch, once again, pulled Lyle back from the brink. He allowed Ben to brace his shoulders, easing him around so they were face-to-face. Ben offered another slight smile, which Lyle read as encouragement. Then Ben peeped up at the Wise Ma. "What do we need to do?" asked Ben.
Under the Wise Ma's instructions, sil, Ben, and Lyle crouched on the damp ground, holding hands to form a triangle. Emmet leaned, sneering and languorous, against the highest side of the cave. Lyle loathed the idea of embarking on this dangerous experiment in Emmet's presence. The notion of leaving Ben's fragile human body unguarded sent shudders down his spine. On the other hand, even Emmet wouldn't be so outrageous as to attack with the Wise Ma present. So, reluctantly, he placed both his and Ben's welfare in sils care.
The Wise Ma fixed deeply in Ben's eyes and hummed gently. "Will you welcome me, dear one?" sil asked.
Ben nodded, still forcing a brittle smile. Lyle perceived the truth from the harsh clamp of Ben's hand and the clench of his jaw—Ben was scared rigid.
The Wise Ma uncoiled two tentacle-like fins and massaged Ben's scalp and hair. Lyle watched on, his dread ratcheting up a whole new notch as Ben's eyes grew so wide Lyle detected the whites. Next, Ben's gaze turned vacant and blank, as if his life-force had withdrawn. His grip on Lyle stayed tight as ever, though.
When he wakes up, he'll know the truth. He might not love me anymore.
The Wise Ma ceased messing up Ben's already bedraggled hair and pinned her scrutiny on Lyle.
"No." Lyle shook his head abruptly. "I don't want this. Don’t let him in… I don't know why I agreed to this… I can't!"
"That's as good as a confession," said Emmet. "He's guilty as hell."
"Ssssssssssssh." The Wise Ma's soothing hush quelled Lyle's panic. Sils fins slid through his hair, lulling and comforting him. "Let us in." The mists in sils eyes cleared, revealing irises painted Ben's soulful brown hue. "We are as one now, Ben and I. Let us in, Lyle."
Deep inside, Lyle sagged and surrendered. He accepted sils contemplation, grew sleepy and tired. Then the ground disintegrated beneath him, and he tumbled through it.
*~*~*
Lyle landed nowhere, in a realm of blank, lost, loneliness, which stretched in every direction forever and ever and ever. He'd not even got his body anymore. He'd miss that, and the fun it'd given him.
So sil had found the truth already and condemned him.
He should've despaired for good. Instead, he reached deep inside the floating essence of himself that remained and discovered a speck of grit. He'd been somewhere nearly this bad before and he'd survived. He'd do it again… but then the revelation struck. This time, enduring the endless swathes of time would be much worse. He'd loved now. He'd miss Ben. Loving Ben made surrendering to his fate much harder.
With a crack, his body returned to him. A flat sheen of water formed a surface beneath his feet, reflecting a lambent light through the darkness. The pool was placid, with scarce a ripple. Lyle stared down at it and discerned a moving shape beneath the surface.
A drowning man, legs kicking and arms thrashing wildly.
Without thinking, Lyle threw himself flat on the water, which held him as if it were solid as a table-top. He reached downward, grasped an arm, and with little effort, dragged a surprisingly dry-looking Ben upward. They stood on the surface, toe-to-toe. Ben was naked save some straggling threads of greenish pond weed. These streaked his body and formed a modest cloth about his loins, while leaving his upper thighs and arse utterly bare.
Yup, Ben wore the water-sprite look well.
Lyle checked his first instinct to grab and hug Ben, to sob his thanks to Ben for coming with him. One glance into the strange swirling mists of those eyes, and he understood the Wise Ma was with them too, maybe in the driving seat of Ben's body. Ah. So sil didn't know the truth yet. Lyle's trial wasn't over.
"We need to look into your memories," said Ben.
"I don't want to." Lyle's tongue flapped quicker than his mind could keep up. He sort of did want to know. He just didn't want Ben to see.
"We don't have much choice, Lyle."
With a roar, a great waterfall appeared just yards behind Ben. Pouring down from an unknown height, it crashed into the surface to form roiling white horses which splashed and soaked them both.
Lyle might've been captivated, but Ben had turned around to face the falls, giving Lyle a great view of the cute dimples on his butt cheeks. Lyle adored those dimples and bit his lip. Not a good time to get turned on.
Ben stepped under the waterfall. As if drawn by an invisible thread between them, Lyle followed.