TANWEN
I leaned back and drummed my fingers against the plaster wall outside the room where the others spouted opinions around a half-finished map.
“Yes, I agree,” my father’s voice carried to where I stood. “It’s definitely the Ancient Meridioni word for Haribi, but see this character here? I think that means north.”
“Northwest, I think.” Warmil’s frown could be heard in his words. “Unless that mark changes things.”
“It does,” Master Insegno said. “Northeast, and lucky for you. If it were northwest, you would be docking in Haribi and traveling many leagues overland to Haribi’s western coast. The sea north of Haribi is too rough for most ships.”
“Traveling overland takes longer. That’s time we don’t have to spare,” Mor said.
“Nor do we have the proper supplies for such a journey.” Dylun sighed. “That is one bit of luck in our favor. It appears the ancient masters kept largely to the coasts when hiding these strands.”
“Perhaps they did not have the threat of death looming over them,” Insegno said, “but they did have threats of other kinds. It would not surprise me if the strands are located in places you find convenient.”
“Convenient would have been if they’d not destroyed the cure in the first place.” Mor. Angry. Frustrated. The sound of a heavy book smacking shut punctuated his sentence.
“They did not destroy it,” Master Insegno reminded him. “They only broke it apart. It, and many others like it, for the abuse of the weavers’ power was great. You do not understand how dangerous it was because you have not seen the full measure of the ancient strands. And you are bitter and frustrated about your personal situation with these two sick ragizzis. It is clouding your perception of this journey.”
Heavy silence followed that observation.
“Two sick girls?” Dylun cut in. “Then it’s true that . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence. I wanted to step into the room and change the subject. But my head still ached. Three more little “bubbles” had popped since the one that morning with Master Insegno. I didn’t know what it meant, exactly, but all I could think of was the time I saw Gryfelle have a full-blown fit in the Corsyth, when treasured knowledge of the healing arts slipped from her mind before my eyes.
What was I losing when those little bubbles popped in my head? Or when I had full-blown fits? And would I even know enough to miss it? Gryfelle always said it was sadder for us to watch it than for her to live it, because she didn’t remember all she had lost.
“Yes, Tanwen is cursed,” Mor finally spat.
And his words stung like drops of poison all over my skin. As if he hated me for complicating his already-messy life.
I pushed myself from the wall and rounded the corner into the stifling air of the gathering I’d stepped into the hallway to escape.
“Aye.” I tried to keep my voice firm, but it was shaking. “It’s true. Seems I didn’t meet you all soon enough. Apprenticed under Riwor too long, practicing those blasted crowned stories too often, and it was too late by the time you got me to the Corsyth. And now I have what Gryfelle has, and I guess we’ll both die if we can’t figure out how to finish drawing this map.”
“Is there an indication of a landmark?” Mor spoke as though I hadn’t just mentioned my death and Gryfelle’s death or admitted to the room I was sick. “If there’s a landmark of some kind, that would help a lot once we get to the Haribian plains.”
Warmil shared an uncomfortable glance with Dylun, and my father’s eyes remained steadily on me. Commander Jule’s brows rose, and Aeron looked like maybe she wanted to give me a hug. I just glared at Mor. My warm, smirky sea captain who told me never to change had been replaced completely by this cold, unfeeling man on a mission.
“Yes,” I said, hopping back up to my feet. “Let’s see about that blazing landmark, and then maybe we can plot out a course directly off the edge of the blasted map while we’re at it.”
I spun toward the door, ready to make a big, flouncy exit. Instead, the room around me ripped to shreds. I inhaled to scream, but my cry was choked off by a blanket of darkness, wrapped all around me in half a heartbeat.
My body dropped to the floor. The impact jarred my bones, but I didn’t feel pain.
It was happening again. I lay on the ground and wondered if I could control it, somehow. I knew what was happening. I had accepted that this was what those fits of mind-wiping looked like from the inside.
Could I choose what I lost?
I rose and turned a slow circle in the blackness. I tried to take a step, but everything wobbled. It was like I was back on the ship, except worse. Like the world was made of pudding. I didn’t venture another step. I waited for the silvery strands of memory to begin spinning by, out of my head forever.
Apparently, it wouldn’t be my choice. Of all the memories that might have zipped by me, the one the curse chose was from my childhood.
A silver strand snaked toward me, ribboned around my body, and swirled over the top of my head.
Tanwen En-Yestin was a very lonely little girl without her nursemaid’s company, until she made friends with her new adoptive sibling.
As the words swirled around me, a picture unfolded, like I was watching back the memory. Two little blond heads bounced by as we ran through the fields—me six years old, he eight.
The shadowy image of me giggled and pushed harder to keep up. Were we racing?
No. Chasing a fluff-hopper. A tiny white one we’d stumbled upon in Ma-Bradwir’s garden. It had been eating her greens while it stalked a larger snack—one of the Bradwirs’ new puppies. We’d tried to catch it and it had bitten me, a tiny nibble, for this fluff-hopper must have been a very young baby.
Then it had taken off, and we after it, through Farmer Bradwir’s grain fields.
“Got it!” the boy shouted, and he held the tiny ball of curly white fluff in cupped hands.
I squealed in delight, and a strand of pink light burst from my palm. “If only it were pink, it would grant all your wishes!” As I said these words, the pink light bunched together and popped into a clear pink-crystal fluff-hopper figure.
A little lopsided, I could see now. But the boy looked impressed.
“Sakes,” he said. “You did that.”
“Aye.” I stroked the head of the real fluff ball, snatching my fingers away just in time to escape another bite. “So?”
“It was like magic.”
Little me laughed. “Race you back!”
Then I took off, and the boy after me.
What was his name?
Only blankness answered me. No recollection, no recognition. I knew I had known this boy once—and that I knew him still. But in that moment, I couldn’t grasp his name.
The image of the boy ran past me in the blackness. He laughed and tossed his blond hair from his eyes.
“Brac,” I said aloud to the ghost boy. “Brac!”
A wave of sorrow hit me. It was my accidental betrothed, the one who had been so frustrating and thickheaded and controlling lately but with whom I had shared my lifetime.
“No!” I cried. “I don’t want to forget him.” I reached for the shadowy image, but it was too far away. And not solid, in any case. “I don’t want to forget this Brac—the boy who was my brother. Please!”
But the images of me and Brac as children and the silver strands of memory were gone. Darkness swallowed me, and my tears were my only company.
A pinprick of light invaded my senses. Then it grew to a streak and widened until the whole room came into view, and then finally into focus.
I won’t lie. I expected to see Mor’s face, first thing. I expected him to be crouched over me, calling my name and cradling my head so I might not slam it against the ground, same as he had done for Gryfelle many times.
Instead, my father was there, and so was Aeron. It was she who held me with Warmil beside her, his arm around her shoulders. I could see then that Aeron was crying. How long had I been fitting? Had it been gruesome to watch, whatever my body had been doing?
Master Insegno must be near, for I heard him speaking in rapid Meridioni.
I sat up slowly with Father’s help. My head spun and threatened to split in two. But I looked around anyway. Mor was nowhere to be seen. He had left the room at some point.
At that moment, it truly sank in. Not only was I going to die, but when I did, Mor might not even notice.