Sebastian Page 22

  “I…don’t know. A few years.”

  She nodded. “That’s a long time. Even when you came to visit, you never showed up until the sun set—and you never stayed long enough to see the sun rise.”

  Couldn’t. Especially in the last year or so. He wanted to see it, but it was the cruelest reminder of what he’d left behind when he’d turned his back on the daylight landscapes—because it was the one thing he’d truly loved about those landscapes.

  “You may want to consider why you’re standing here in daylight,” Nadia said quietly. “Opportunity and choice, Sebastian. Lynnea isn’t the only one making a journey.”

  He looked over at his little rabbit, who raised her chin as if getting ready to fight.

  You started this, he thought. You’re the one who gave her a taste of being a tigress.

  He walked over to her.

  “I’m going back to the Den,” she said, sounding scared and defiant.

  “I know.” He still thought she was making a bad choice, but he was too glad to have her with him a little while longer to argue about it anymore.

  It moved through the landscapes, smothering the flickers of Light It found in the places Its lesser enemies, the Landscapers, hadn’t valued enough to give more than token protection. So easy to create an anchor for one of Its landscapes. Ephemera barely resisted when It imposed Its will in those places. But the shining landscapes, the places that would be such a feast when It destroyed the Light…It couldn’t find a way into those places. No matter how It twisted and turned through the landscapes, It couldn’t find a way in. And that dark landscape, that delicious hunting ground. It could feel the edges of that place, but no matter how hard It tried, It couldn’t breach the wall that surrounded the Den of Iniquity.

  So many thoughts focused on a single thing, so sure that single thing would keep them safe.

  Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.

  Humans and demons alike believed in this thing called Sebastian that kept It away from the Den itself, leaving It with no access except for the two anchors It had already established in the dark landscape that bordered the hunting ground.

  What enraged It even more was the certainty that the choicest hunting grounds were landscapes controlled by the True Enemy. What troubled It was the feel of the Dark currents in the spots where It had managed to create anchor points in those landscapes. The old Enemies, the Guides, that had fought and caged It so long ago had resonated with the Light and held only a thread of the Dark. But this one held the Light and the Dark in equal measure. This one could do what the old Enemies never could: she could control Its dark landscapes.

  She had to be destroyed before she realized how powerful she truly was.

  But this time It wouldn’t be the one fighting against the Enemy. This time It would have friends.

  It moved along the steep northern slope of Wizard City, a rippling shadow. It had found the Dark Ones’ weakness, the thing they feared to lose. In spider form, It had climbed the wall of the building to be sure anyone standing at a particular window would see what It wanted him to see.

  Ready now, It reached out with a mental tentacle for the Dark One. It didn’t try to slip into that mind unobserved. It made Its presence felt—and relished the fear that flooded that mind before the feeling was controlled.

  Come to the window, It whispered. Look at the steep land. Watch. It withdrew the tentacle, knowing the Dark One would obey.

  Choosing ground that was a short distance from a flock of sheep grazing on the hillside, It altered the grass into a large patch of rust-colored sand, changing that piece of Wizard City into the bonelovers’ landscape.

  Then It waited until It sensed the Dark One’s presence.

  The simpleminded animals began to bleat and move away as It rippled beneath them. Already primed to bolt, they panicked when It transformed part of Itself and tentacles burst out of the ground in the middle of the flock. The ones in front of It ran straight into the patch of sand—and disappeared.

  Satisfied, It pulled the tentacles into the earth, changing them back into Its natural form.

  It felt the Dark One’s mind reaching out. Hesitant. Afraid.

  We helped you, the Dark One said. All these years, we sent you prey.

  More prey found its own way into my landscapes, It replied. You never freed me. Never tried.

  We couldn’t! We didn’t know where the Landscapers had hidden—

  Lies. It waited, savoring the fear.

  What do you want?

  The True Enemy must be destroyed. She is one; you are many. It will be easy for you to destroy her.

  We’ve tried to destroy Belladonna!

  A shudder went through It. Belladonna. The first male It had killed at the Landscapers’ School had used that word as a shield for a kernel of hope. Now It knew what the word meant.

  Destroy the True Enemy, It insisted.

  Why can’t you destroy her?

  A thread of hope flowed through the words, enraging It. The Dark One was too fearful to hide his thoughts completely. He hoped It and the True Enemy would destroy each other. Foolish creature, to think that It had learned nothing from Its prey when It had spent so much time absorbing Its prey’s deepest fears.

  Don’t you want to be friends?

  We are your friends!

  Prove it. It projected an image of the females It had found—the females that had been hidden for generations. Destroy the True Enemy—or something besides sheep will disappear in the bonelovers’ landscape.

  It felt the Dark One’s fear spike.

  We…We will find a way to destroy Belladonna. The Dark One hesitated. Is there anything else we must do to prove we are friends?

  It considered for a moment, thought about the dark hunting ground It wanted to claim for Itself. Yes. Destroy the thing called Sebastian.

  Glorianna walked the paths in her walled garden, the statue of the sitting woman cradled in her arms, an old piece of towel tossed over her shoulder. Fifteen years ago, she had done what Nadia had asked—she had removed all the access points from her garden at the school and had rebuilt her garden on this small island. Then she had altered the landscapes, hiding this place so well it could not be found by conventional means.

  Its existence was known in Sanctuary, but the Keepers of the Light did not talk to outsiders about the Island in the Mist—unless heart’s need compelled them to speak.

  The wizards could not find her here. The Eater of the World could not find her here. The only way to reach this island was through Sanctuary, and Sanctuary was held, protected, within the walls of her garden.

  She could feel the connection between her landscapes and the rest of Ephemera breaking, setting these pieces of the world adrift, anchored only to one another.

  Ephemera. As solid and strong as stone, as delicate as a dream.

  And if she was successful, the dream would not become a nightmare.

  She just didn’t know how she was supposed to fight something like the Eater of the World. And if she did manage to find It and fight It, she didn’t know how a single Landscaper could win that fight when it had taken so many like her to contain the Eater the first time.

  “Stop dithering,” she muttered. “You’ll reach that battle when you reach it. You know what needs to be done now.” She turned around and walked to the front part of her gardens.

  She hadn’t spent the past hour wandering the paths in order to decide where to put the statue that would anchor Nadia’s home. She already had an access point to her family home—a bed of flowers she had grown from seeds and cuttings from Nadia’s personal gardens. Near the front of the bed was a large piece of slate. She’d always intended to use the slate as a foundation for some kind of decorative ornament, but she’d never found anything that felt right.

  Going down on her knees, she set the statue on the slate, turning it this way and that until she had it positioned exactly the way she wanted it. Then, with her hands resting on the statue, she called to Ephemer
a and altered the landscapes, breaking some bonds and forming others, rearranging the pieces and shaping new borders and boundaries.

  The sun was low in the sky when she finally sat back.

  Some strange pairings. Some unexpected borders. She didn’t always know why two seemingly different landscapes resonated with each other, but she didn’t doubt what she’d done.

  Getting to her feet, she took a deep breath, then clamped a hand over her mouth when the exhalation came out as a sob. No. She couldn’t waver. This next task made her sick at heart, but she couldn’t waver.

  Clenching her fists, she strode deep into her gardens to an odd little bed that sat alone and contained nothing but one heart’s hope plant and a brick.

  She rested her fingers on the brick and felt the Dark nibbling around the edges of this small landscape. The Eater didn’t recognize what this was or why the Dark currents didn’t quite resonate with the Dark in the rest of the city, but given enough time, It would.

  Pulling the piece of towel off her shoulder, she spread it on the ground in front of the bed, then picked up the brick and wrapped it in the towel.

  Racing to finish this task before the sun set, she picked up the wrapped brick and ran to the sheltered horseshoe of rock where she kept the boat the River Guardians had made for her. Theirs were the only boats that could survive this part of the river.

  Getting into the boat, she sat on the front seat, the wrapped brick in her lap, and emptied her mind of everything but the boat and the river.

  The boat had no oars, no sails, no tiller. The will and the heart supplied those things.

  Slowly, smoothly, the boat slipped out of the horseshoe of calm water into the churning power of the river. It cut across some currents, followed others, balanced and driven by the task of the person it held.

  At the edge of that tangle of currents, she willed the boat to stop. Immediately a circle of calm water spread out around it.

  Picking up the brick with both hands, she held it over the water.

  It had been a foolish thing to do, decided in a moment of youthful anger and seasoned by the need to answer a need.

  Opportunities and choices. A bitter farmer who still had a seed of kindness in him. She’d fed that seed a glimmer of Light, a ray of hope. He’d taken that glimmer back to a place in the city that was full of dark emotions and had sparked another glimmer. And another. And another. Kindness fed on kindness, and the Light grew. A few months later, when the resonance of that little piece of the city called to her, she’d crossed over and taken the brick to be her access point so she could continue to guide the currents of Light. She’d gone back a few times over the years to keep the resonance of that small landscape balanced, gambling that she wouldn’t run into Sebastian’s father, who was the only wizard who might recognize her.

  Now…

  She had to let them go—those people, that beacon of Light. Having a landscape within the walls of Wizard City had always been risky. Now it could endanger all the landscapes in her care. It could be the chink in the wall that gave the Eater of the World a chance to attack the stronghold of Light.

  Her hands shook as she lowered the wrapped brick into the water.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears ran down her face. “I’m sorry.”

  Why? something whispered. Why give them up? You worked so hard to help them. Don’t you want to help them?

  Of course she wanted to help those people.

  Then let them stay protected. Let them stay in the garden.

  She felt it then—a Dark current that didn’t resonate with her. A malice behind the words assuring her she didn’t need to do this.

  With a cry of anguish, she let go of the brick.

  It sank fast, but the river’s currents cleansed it of all trace of her before it reached the bottom.

  She huddled in the boat for a while, scared to the point of feeling sick.

  She’d almost wavered. Even knowing that little landscape could be a danger to all her other landscapes, she’d almost wavered. Because something had gotten in just far enough to try to lure her into making an error. It had arrowed in on her own reluctance to abandon those people, sending them back to the mean existence they’d known when only the wizards’ influence had touched that part of the city. If she’d taken the brick back to her garden, the Eater might have found a way to use that small landscape to attack Sanctuary.

  Weary to the bone and half-blinded by tears, she sat up and focused her will on guiding the boat, allowing no other thoughts until the boat was safely moored in the horseshoe of calm water.

  As she stumbled her way to her house, she kept wondering if she’d truly done the right thing by letting that landscape go—or if this was her first failure in the battle to save the Light.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moment he opened the back door and stepped into his kitchen, Sebastian felt uneasy. He put a hand back to stop Lynnea, then stood still, listening. A rhythmic plink…plink coming from somewhere inside the cottage, but that was an ordinary sound. It was the feral muskiness that troubled him. Not a bad smell. Alluring in its own way. Seductive, even. But not familiar. Not something that belonged in his home.

  Moving warily, he went to the small table, found the box of matches, and lit the oil lamp.

  Nothing in the kitchen looked out of place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had been lifted and put back almost where he’d left them.

  He put a finger to his lips, then crooked that finger to tell Lynnea to come in. When she reached him, he cupped a hand around the back of her head and brought his mouth close to her ear.

  “I think someone’s been in the cottage. I have to look around. If I tell you to run, you get out of here, go back up the path. Focus on reaching Nadia. Nothing but Nadia. Understand me?” He waited until she nodded before he stepped back, his lips brushing against her cheek as he moved away from her.

  After taking the biggest kitchen knife from the wood block, he moved into the living area.

  Plink…plink.

  The lamp in the kitchen didn’t offer much light, but it was enough for him to make out the shapes of the furniture. Pausing at the table in front of the couch, he lit another lamp.

  Nothing there that shouldn’t be there.

  With the lamp in one hand and the knife in the other, he approached the bedroom, not sure he’d be able to hear anything over the pounding of his heart.

  Nothing looked out of place there, either, except…

  The bed was neatly made—exactly as Lynnea had left it before they’d headed out to the Landscapers’ School. But the bedroom reeked of that muskiness, and there was an indentation in the middle of the bed, like someone had lain there.

  Staring at it, he had the oddest sensation, as if something inside him recognized the intruder. Something that came from instinct, from blood and bone, not the intellect.

  One thing he knew with absolute certainty: He didn’t want Lynnea anywhere near that bed.

  Plink…plink.

  He followed the sound into the bathroom, watched the water drops fall into the sink. After a long moment, he set the lamp down and turned the faucet to stop the drip.

  The little stove that heated the water tank was cold, as it should be, and nothing was out of place. And yet…

  We can’t stay here. The cottage was less than a mile from the streets that made up the Den. Distant enough to give him the separation he’d needed but still an easy walk. Now the isolation weighed on him. They were alone out here, too far away from help of any kind.

  Maybe he would have risked himself and stayed here, but he wouldn’t risk Lynnea.

  Coming out of the bedroom, he saw Lynnea standing in the doorway between the living area and the kitchen. She was trembling, but she held a knife in one hand.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and checked the other downstairs room, then climbed the stairs to check the empty rooms on the second floor. Bedrooms, but he h
adn’t needed the space, so he’d done nothing with the rooms except sweep the floors and wash the windows twice a year.

  Hurrying back down the stairs, he said, “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” He paused. “But we can’t stay here.”

  “Do you have a carry basket? I can put the food Nadia gave us in that, and you can use the travel bag she loaned us for your clothes.”

  “There’s a basket in one of the bottom cupboards. I’ll—” As he looked at the wall, the pain in his chest was so fierce he struggled to breathe.

  His framed sketches. If he had to give up the cottage and never come back, it would hurt. He would miss it, and the home he’d made here, but the sketches were a part of him.

  “You have to take them with you,” Lynnea said.

  Her words were a balm and yet scraped his heart raw. “Can’t. We’ve already got all we can carry.”

  “You can’t leave them here, not knowing what might happen to them.”

  “We can’t carry them!”

  She got a look on her face that reminded him of bull demons at their most stubborn.

  “We’re taking them.”

  His heart was bleeding already, and that stubborn look combined with that prissy tone of voice made him want to scream.

  She huffed. “Don’t you have a handcart?”

  “No, I don’t have a handcart,” he replied in a nasty imitation of her tone.

  “Then how do you haul wood for the fires or take care of chores?”

  “There’s the—” He stopped. Thought. “There’s a wheeled barrow in the shed out back.” One wheel and long handles. They could load it up, and he could pull it behind him.

  “Fine,” Lynnea said. “You get the barrow, and I’ll find something to wrap the sketches in.”

  She went into the kitchen, then came out with the lamp and marched into the bedroom.

  “Don’t use the linens on the bed,” Sebastian said.

  The look she gave him was sharp enough to strip off several layers of skin.

  “Daylight,” he muttered as he stomped out to the shed. Women were definitely easier to deal with when sex was all you wanted to give and take.