ALTHOUGH OKSA COULD BARELY SEE DRAGOMIRA IN the gloomy room, she’d have recognized her anywhere from the plaits coiled around her head and the gold earrings bearing two tiny birds which were very much alive.
“Come in, Dushka, come in,” rang out Baba Pollock’s voice.
Oksa came into the room, her steps muffled by the plush burgundy carpet. She sat down in the leather armchair facing her gran in front of the hearth, relishing the comforting heat from the blazing fire. Some tiny hens were clucking with pleasure by the fireplace and enthusiastically fluffing up their speckled wings. Not far from them, a striped Veloso was in mid-air pursuit of the miniature birds, which had just taken off from the golden perches hanging from Dragomira’s ears to fly over to Oksa.
“Hello, Ptitchkins!”
“It’s the Young Gracious!” chirped the birds, lifting up two strands of hair to form antennae. “She’s so pretty! We love her so much!”
They landed on her shoulder and rubbed their feathered heads against her neck.
“Would my Old Gracious and the Young Gracious relish the desire to lap up a fresh cup of tea?” asked the Lunatrix.
Dragomira smiled. “That would be lovely, my Lunatrix. But we’ll just drink it normally, if you don’t mind.”
The Lunatrix bowed and left the room. Oksa leant over to Dragomira.
“I just love his use of vocabulary!”
“Well, yes…” said Dragomira, with a chuckle. “Even if his word choices do sometimes leave a lot to be desired!”
The small steward came back clutching an enormous china teapot, patterned with flowers. A few moments later, the two Graciouses were ensconced in their armchairs, sipping steaming cups of tea. Dragomira studied Oksa quizzically.
“What’s the matter, Baba?”
“Something odd happened earlier, didn’t it?”
Oksa blushed. Her gran had to be talking about the unusual phenomenon that had taken place between her and Gus.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
Dragomira smiled and shook her head.
“I have no idea what it was,” admitted Oksa. “It sounds crazy, but it was like a part of me had taken over and was doing what I wanted to do for me.”
“That’s exactly what happened, sweetheart. What you’re talking about is your Identego. It’s something that’s part of your subconscious but, unlike other human beings, your Identego can manifest itself in an intangible, yet physical, form.”
“So you actually saw it?” asked Oksa in a strangled voice.
“Abakum and I were both aware of its presence,” replied Dragomira. “The Identego is an extremely rare Gracious power. To my knowledge, you’re only the second Gracious in the history of Edefia to possess it.”
“Were you the first?”
“Unfortunately not. Don’t forget that I never finished training as a Gracious… The woman with whom you share this extraordinary gift was the first Gracious of Edefia.”
Oksa’s heart lurched with panic. She set down her cup of tea and pressed her hands together to stop them shaking.
“Does that mean I’m the last Gracious? That I won’t be able to restore equilibrium to the two worlds and that everything is coming to an end?”
Dragomira looked at her in amazement. “Of course not, Dushka! If there is a parallel to be drawn, I think it’s much more likely that you’re the Gracious who’ll breathe new life into Edefia. I’m sure of that!”
Oksa thought for a moment, before questioning her gran again:
“How does the Identego work?”
“You’ll soon learn to control it,” replied Dragomira, evasively. “And I wouldn’t mind betting it’ll come in very handy when we have to face whatever’s waiting for us around the corner.”
“You mean Orthon?”
“I’m still worried about what Reminiscens said,” admitted Dragomira. “If Orthon’s overriding desire is to take revenge on his father, Ocious, then he’ll stop at nothing. The more I think about it, the more aware I am of the repercussions of what I saw nearly sixty years ago. So many things went over my head…”
“You were still so young, though, Baba!” insisted Oksa, troubled by her gran’s serious tone. “You wouldn’t have been able to understand what was happening or how Ocious’s behaviour would shape the man Orthon would become.”
“One thing I did realize was what a cold, twisted man Ocious was—the worst possible father anyone could have.”
The old woman looked up at the bare wall opposite them, focusing her Camereye on it, and various images emerged from the deepest recesses of her memory.
Orthon’s teenage face appeared first. The scene was unfolding on the balcony of a high tower—the Glass Column, thought Oksa. Lush climbing plants twined about the balustrades to provide a shady canopy. Young Dragomira appeared to be playing merrily with a slender jet of water arching from the round basin of a crystalline fountain. Twirling her index finger to coax it into weird and wonderful trajectories, she was aiming the water at Orthon and Leomido, who looked around thirteen. Peals of childish laughter erupted from her when a thin stream of spinning water splashed over Orthon. His eyes wide with surprise, he nudged Leomido, who was laughing beside him, and they winked at each other before launching themselves at Dragomira, growling like big cats. What followed was the wildest tickling session ever seen. The Camereye blurred as the dark room rang with the loud laughter that still haunted the Old Gracious’s memories. Suddenly, the Camereye zoomed in on Orthon, whose face fell at the sound of his father’s chilly voice. It swivelled round and Ocious appeared in Dragomira’s field of vision. His sturdy yet elegant figure commanded fear and respect. His dark eyes narrowed when he saw his son squatting beside Dragomira, who’d rolled into a ball to escape the two boys’ “revenge”. Orthon jumped to his feet, looking pale. He muttered a few incomprehensible words, which only made his father glower more fiercely.
“Why are you trying to justify yourself?” asked Ocious in a steely voice. “Making excuses shows how spineless you really are. Why don’t you take responsibility for your actions, even the harmless ones? After all, you weren’t doing anything wrong, were you?”
In response to Orthon’s tormented silence, he added:
“Is Leomido denying anything? No. He stands by what he does. You should take a leaf out of your… friend’s book,” he concluded, then turned on his heel.
Now the secret about the birth of Leomido, Orthon, Dragomira and Reminiscens had come to light—Malorane was the mother of them all—this remark was shocking, hateful and perverse. Ocious was a dreadful man. Oksa couldn’t help feeling sorry for Orthon, abandoned by his biological mother and despised by his father. Leomido wasn’t Ocious’s son and yet the man admired and respected him. Oksa understood how angry Orthon must have felt throughout his adolescence, until the love affair between Leomido and Reminiscens had caused the truth about their origins to be admitted, ruining their lives. Secrets which can’t remain under wraps for ever may turn into ticking time bombs which, sooner or later, will blow up in the face of anyone who comes too close…
A different image suddenly appeared on the wall. Oksa smothered a groan as she recognized her mother’s face. The shot zoomed out to show a rustic house behind Pavel, who was surrounded by many of the Runaways, all of whom looked about fifteen years younger. Pavel and Marie, radiant in their wedding outfits, were bathed in sunshine and glowing with happiness. They waltzed around the open-air dance floor gazing into each other’s eyes and Oksa’s heart swelled with love as her mother’s laugh rang out. She was so lovely… She missed her so much…
The Camereye leapt forward in time, showing Oksa’s parents a few years later, as could be seen by the decor of the Pollocks’ Parisian apartment. Sitting on a sofa, his hand resting on Marie’s rounded stomach, Pavel was leaning back, looking thoughtful. In front of them, Dragomira appeared to be making tea.
“What about calling her Oksa,” said Marie. “That’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”
A shadow darkened Pavel’s face. “It might be a boy…”
“I’m sure it’s a girl! She’ll be gorgeous and intelligent and we’ll love her to bits and live happily ever after.”
She gave him a tender look, then nudged him with her shoulder.
“When will you stop worrying so much? It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
The Camereye suddenly winked out with a crack, like a small explosion of light, ushering in a heavy silence. Oksa thought about the contrast between Orthon and herself. The love—or lack of love—from the people who’d brought them into the world had shaped their lives. It had made them who they were and had become an inextricable part of their destiny. Such an imperceptible power was both frightening and fascinating. Her heart full of resolve, Oksa turned to Dragomira and repeated Marie’s final words:
“It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
Dragomira nodded knowingly.
“I’m sure it will, Dushka…”