“Am I a toy, my prince?” she asked looking up at him, her eyes wide and clear like great blue jewels.
Valam turned back to her. He leaned over and kissed her. “You are not. I came back just as I said. Did I not?”
“And I am to forget the passing of the years without question? Am I to wait more years for your return, my prince?”
Valam kissed her as her nimble fingers fastened the buttons of his undertunic. “I did not ask that you wait.”
“A prince does not have to ask, a lady does for him as must be done.”
“And a fine lady you’ve become, my Soshi,” he said, smiling, stepping into his trousers.
“You surprise me,” said a voice from the shadows.
Soshi gasped, pulled the sheets up around her in bed.
Valam didn’t turn, didn’t act surprised. He wasn’t. “You breathe loudly, I wonder if you—” he began as he turned and saw the milky white eyes.
“Pity is such an empty, wasteful emotion,” the woman said as she stepped from the shadows. “I saw and heard nothing I haven’t a thousand times in this life.”
“You knew,” Valam said, turning back to Soshi. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
“I knew only that she would come, not that she would be here now,” Soshi said rising from the bed. “I serve her as much as I do you, my lord prince.”
“What does that mean?” Valam shouted, clear anger in his voice.
“Anger follows pity now,” the woman said. “Understanding will come, this I promise you.”
Soshi grabbed her belongings, raced from the room mumbling an apology. The blind woman touched a hand to Valam’s face. Her fingers worked their way from his wide brow to his well-defined chin.
“Not always blind,” the woman said. “A sacrifice for the greater good.”
“Sacrifice?” Valam said. “You talk in riddles old woman. You are at once a stranger and yet I feel as if I’ve known you always.”
“Familiar, yes,” the woman said. Apparently satisfied with her survey of Valam’s face, she led him to the window. “I once asked your sister to smell the wind. She didn’t understand, but do you?”
“The winds of change,” he said without hesitation. “Winter comes. The land grows weary. The old will pass; the new will come.”
“You’ve had excellent tutors these many past years, haven’t you, my strong one?”
“It is you, isn’t it?”
The old woman smiled. Valam could tell that it had been a long time since she had done so. “You have an excellent memory as well. Your sister, she didn’t remember. To her, I was just an old woman who had something to tell her. Change comes, my boy, will you let it?”
“One cannot hold back the winds of change. Changes comes, you either accept it or you, you—”
“Fight it, yes, you fight it. But are you ready for such a fight, such a fight as you’ve never seen?”
“I will do what must be done, if action is needed.”
“Will you? I wonder.” The woman grabbed his chin, forced his gaze to the window just as she had done with Adrina those many months ago. “I was your nanny before Isador. I never forgot you. I know the ways of your heart. The hard decision isn’t in you. You will be weak when the hour comes. You won’t be able to do what must be done. I forgive you.”
“Father doesn’t believe in the old ways, the old gods. To him, there is but the Mother and the Father. He didn’t want us to learn the old ways.”
“As it should be. The old ways are all but forgotten now,” the old woman said, redirecting his gaze. “The old gods were not gods at all, merely creatures of power, great power. I know that now. I see and understand.”
“But your eyes?”
“Eyes can get in the way of true sight.”
Valam turned back and stared at the milky white of her eyes. “True sight, you say that as if blindness were a gift?”
“It is a gift. My gift to you.”
Valam started to say, “What do you mean?” but the old woman didn’t let him speak. She hushed him, raised her hands and threw a white powder into his eyes. Valam’s screams would have brought the guards if the old woman hadn’t clamped her hand over his mouth with a viselike grip—a grip surprisingly strong.
“Hush, hush,” she whispered as she stifled his screams. “The pain will pass. It will pass.”
Vilmos leaned down to drink water from a crystal blue pool. The voices inside his mind had faded as he ran. Now they were completely gone.
The cool, clear water tasted pleasant against his palette, yet as he reached down to scoop up a second handful, he noticed something. It was the first time he had seen his reflection in what seemed ages. He saw a small boy, a boy not even ready to become a man, in that image. He didn’t like what he saw.
He was not a boy—a mere boy—a scrawny little boy. His vanity wouldn’t allow him to continue in the body of a mere boy. He decided he wanted to be older, bigger, stronger. It took only a moment to gather the required energy. He released the full force of those energies unto himself. Raw energy ripped through his body. Its wonder held and captivated him.
His legs collapsed under the strain. He fell to his knees. Voices in his head cried out in joy all around him and where a boy had fallen to the ground, a man rose in his place. He steadied himself, feeling awkward under the new weight, but good.
Gazing into the pool, he liked what he saw. He had accelerated his growth until he was at the edge of adolescence, on the verge of becoming a man, on the verge of coming into his own. The age when his mind was to awaken.
He eyed the reflection, liking the broad shouldered, muscular, young man that looked back at him. He stared fixedly at the image for a long time, then turned and walked northward once again. He walked all that morning. Something clung to the edge of his mind. The voices spurred him on, carrying him to a place only they knew.
He felt eyes upon him, all around him, though he saw no man or beast. He slowed to a wary, cautious pace.
Hours later, he spotted a pure white horse running at the head of a large herd. It was so beautiful, so perfect. He had to have it.
As if sensing him, the herd turned. He could see the white stallion’s eyes as it came at him.
Unmoving, he waited. The ground shook. The thunder of hooves filled the air. He put his hands to his ears as the horses raced by.
The thunder faded. He turned, expecting to see a trail of dust. Instead, he found the white stallion waiting for him.
Vilmos approached the horse, staring with powerful, probing eyes. Temporarily, the horse’s rampant spirit calmed. It could not run from him, though it wanted to.
Each time the horse attempted to flee Vilmos tightened the grip of his mind. He climbed onto the animal’s back. It defiantly threw him. Its spirit was not entirely captivated.
He stood, wiped dust from his backside, made a second attempt. Again the horse threw him.
He persisted. His anger grew with each failed attempt. As it peaked he turned the anger on the poor creature whose only wish was to remain free. He raised a hand to focus, preparing to do his worst.
Pain, clear and precise, whipped through his mind, scattering his thoughts. It struck him down as he sought to strike down the horse. Try as he might, he couldn’t kill the horse. Something wouldn’t let him. In utter frustration he watched the animal run off.
He watched it go and it was then that he saw the tower far in the distance. The tower called to him. He went.
“I forgive you,” the old woman said again and again as Valam screamed in pain. “I forgive what you will do, what you must do.”
He was on his knees, pain sweeping through his body. He fought to maintain it but consciousness was slipping away.
The old woman circled him, nodding in approval. “Pain is only the beginning. I promise you.”
Through clenched teeth Valam shouted, “Why are you doing this to me?”
The old woman grabbed a handful of white powder from her pocket. As Valam sought to speak she threw the powder in his face. “You have great tolerance,” she said, nodding to herself, “This is good. They will break you. I promise you. You will beg to die. I promise you this as well. I can’t let that happen. You must do what must be done. I can’t let you do otherwise.”
Fighting for each breath, Valam collapsed to the floor. His lungs were on fire. “Why me?” he asked, his voice scarcely a whisper.
“With your sister I had luxury, time, with you I have no such luxury. You must see the world as it is, not as you believe it to be. You must do this now. You must know what is ahead.”
She clapped her hands and shouted, “Soshi, enter!”
The olive-skinned girl entered, fought back a scream when she saw Valam on the floor writhing in pain. She turned away from the prince, shock clearly on her face, as she bowed before her mistress.
“Help me carry him to the bed,” the old woman crooned. The two labored many long minutes. When the prince was finally in the bed the old woman said, “Bind feet and hands to the bedposts. Quickly now…”
Soshi did as asked without question. Binding the prince’s feet and hands as he screamed and writhed in pain wasn’t easy. Tomorrow she’d have deep purple bruises where his fists and feet smashed into her face and chest. Despite this and despite herself, she leaned over and kissed his cheek when she was done.
The old woman pushed her away, saying, “Leave us, go now.”
Soshi paused at the doorway, turning back for a moment. Then she left, waiting outside as before. The door was slightly ajar, so she could see clearly into the room.