The Threshold Child (35 page)

The young woman frowned. “So you do not know what became of this
secret organization?”

He shook his head. “I suppose I could have asked someone who
witnessed the growth and final form of the organization began by those
assassins, but quite frankly, I do not want to know the details. Such
corruption must eventually fall, and that is all I need to know.”

Adesina didn’t know what to say to such a statement. E’rian took
her daughter’s hand and gave the man a sad smile. “Thank you for your help.”

He nodded and turned his attention to the maps on the table.

The older woman led the way back through the door and into the
Garden. Adesina was still carefully analyzing what she had seen.

“Mother, why did you show me that?”

She glanced up at the sky, as if measuring the time. “Dream again
tomorrow and I will show you more. It will all make sense in time.”

Adesina wanted to resist, but she felt the pull of her own world.
She yielded and closed her eyes, knowing from experience that it made the
crossing easier.

When she opened them again she was lying in the L’avan camp. E’nes
saw that she was awake and knelt by her side. “How are you feeling, Adesina?”

She sat up slowly, trying to assess her personal well-being.
“Better.”

“Are you still able to travel?”

Adesina nodded and got to her feet, ready to help break down the
camp. She didn’t say much to her companions, nor did they say much to her. Her
brother continued with his lessons on the L’avan language, in which she was
growing quite proficient, but Adesina seemed more anxious to stop for the
night.

As soon as the evening meal was over, she wrapped herself in her
blanket and reached out to connect to her
vyala
.
More than willing to obey her command, the power sent her speeding back into
the world of Dreams.

E’rian was waiting for her next to the shimmering fountain. She
stood when she saw her daughter approaching.

“Do you wish to continue?” she asked in a gentle voice.

Adesina nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

Her mother took her hand and led her back to the wooden door. She
stared at it in confusion. “Are we visiting the guard again?”

E’rian smiled and shook her head. She opened the door to reveal a
large open field bathed in the sunlight of early summer.

Adesina was bewildered. “Where is the room?”

Her mother smiled mysteriously. “The room is where is has always
been and where it always will be.”

She began walking through the tall green grass, holding out her
hands to let the blades brush her fingertips. Her daughter hurried to follow.

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t slow her pace as she explained. “The door leads to many
places, Ma’eve. It is a way to connect the world of the spirits. Just as the
Garden is
my
place of rest, this field is the resting place of another.
The door is a way to visit parts of the spirit world other than one’s own.”

Adesina looked back, expecting to see the building from which they
had just come. Instead she saw the wooden door standing on its own, with
nothing to connect it to any structure. The sight was slightly unnerving. She
hurried to catch up with her mother while processing this strange new
information about spirit worlds.

The Shimat were not religious in any sense of the word. They
relied heavily on science and did not believe in anything that could not be
proven. They believed that superstitions were evidence of a weak and uninformed
mind. However, Adesina found herself thrown into a world where one was
continually met with something unexplained by the rationality of science: talking
animals, spirits of the dead, life force turned into some kind of “magic.” For
all of her extensive training, she felt completely lost, which was a feeling
she greatly disliked.

If E’rian noticed Adesina’s souring mood, she said nothing about
it. She kept walking at her businesslike pace, not looking back to see if her
daughter was following.

There was a large oak tree not far in the distance that was
clearly their destination. Resting in the wide branches of the tree sat a young
man singing softly to himself. He was probably Adesina’s age, with fair
features and clothing that looked like it came from another period of time.

Unlike the man from the night before, who had been very formally
dressed, this boy looked more like a well-groomed peasant.

He looked up when he heard them, giving them a puzzled smile.
“Hello.”

The Dream woman raised her hand in greeting. “I was wondering if
you would be willing to show my daughter one of your memories.”

The young man hopped down from the tree. “Which one?”

“When you were a servant as a boy.”

His youthful face stiffened. “The assassins.”

She nodded. “The founding of the fortress.”

He was clearly reluctant to relive such memories, and felt the
need to explain himself. “I was very young when they asked me to serve them. My
family had nothing to offer me and serving was an honorable profession. I had
no idea what kind of people my masters were.”

E’rian nodded in sympathy. “You do not need to justify yourself to
us. We do not judge you.”

Still, he looked as if he wanted to say more. “I am not like them.
I did not wish to take part in their ambitions.”

He looked at the mother and daughter for a few heavy moments.
Finally, he held out his hand to Adesina.

The flash of light took them to the familiar courtyard of the
Shimat fortress. Adesina looked around in amazement. She had been away for a
long time, but she was surprised to find that she still remembered the smallest
details of her former home.

Closer inspection showed her that it was different from how she
remembered it. It looked run-down and abandoned—weeds and moss grew in between
the stones, the wood of the gate was rotted and broken, the roofs were in
desperate need of repair, and so forth.

Six figures walked around slowly, as if inspecting it, while the
seventh stood off to the side with his arms folded. Adesina spotted the form of
a young serving boy waiting at the edge of the scene. The figures all wore
heavy black cloaks with the cowls up around their faces, and they walked with a
feline grace that spoke of danger.

The seventh figure also stood apart in the way he was
extravagantly dressed. Even though he wore a modest cloak to cover the gaudy
material, it was now thrown back to exhibit his obvious wealth. The man had an
arrogant look on his face, which marred the youth of his features.

“There should be adequate space for you and your subordinates. It
can serve as a training ground as well as a fortress.”

Adesina recognized the voice of the king.

He received no response, so he continued with his recommendations
of the abandoned castle. “It is also ideally located—isolated from the rest of
the kingdom.”

“Will it be kept that way?” asked one of the inspectors.

The king was irritated by the question. “Of course! I have gone to
great lengths to ensure secrecy.”

A reedy woman turned her sharp eyes to the king. “Will we have
autonomy?”

“Yes.”

The woman wasn’t satisfied. “I want an official document stating
it to be so.”

He hesitated before answering in a sarcastic voice. “What would
you have it say? ‘I, the king, promise not to interfere with the running of the
secret organization that I created.’ How would I explain such a document to my
counselors?”

She shrugged. “Sign a document saying that this land is under your
protection, but not subject to your rule. We will take care of the rest.”

The monarch gritted his teeth in anger. He did not want to sign
his name in connection with these proceedings, and he did not want to lose the
freedom of altering his agreement with the assassins whenever he chose.

“Well?” prompted the woman.

He set his jaw stubbornly. “Very well. But remember, your loyalty
is still sworn to me.”

The woman turned, so only Adesina could see her grim smile. “Of
course, your Majesty.”

A robust middle-aged man nodded. “Yes, this will do very well.”

Another woman, more burly than the first, shook her head. “I still
do not agree with this endeavor.”

They all turned to look at her, but only the king voiced his
question. “Why not?”

“You said you wanted an army of assassins—the best assassins in
the world. This will not be possible.”

The king’s face hardened. “What is your reasoning?”

She shrugged. “We are too few. We, alone, cannot teach great
numbers to be as skilled as ourselves. It would take many years.”

The robust man gestured carelessly. “It will take many years
regardless. Especially to build the organization to the scope that His Majesty
requests.”

The king mulled this over for a while. He paced the stone floors
that Adesina had often paced herself. When he came to a decision, it was with a
degree of uncertainty. He tried to make his voice seem unconcerned, but no one
was fooled. “I will search out other skilled assassins to aid you in this
undertaking.”

“They must be subject to our approval, of course,” insisted a tall
man.

The ruler assented reluctantly. All six assassins nodded in
satisfaction, but the king had a sneaking suspicion that the situation was far
too precarious. It would be too easy for things to get out of hand.

In spite of this fear, he agreed to press forward. His visions of
power and glory were too great to pass up.

“We shall begin immediately,” said the reedy woman.

Once again, the scene grew hazy as Adesina was pulled out of the
memory. It was a bit jarring, and she didn’t like it. She looked at the young
man, who seemed preoccupied by the grass at his feet.

She couldn’t help asking, “How long did they allow you to live,
knowing such secrets?”

He kept his eyes on the ground as he answered. “I lived only as
long as I served a purpose.”

***

There was much on Adesina’s mind as she followed her mother to the
wooden door the next night. She thought of the lives taken by this secret
organization, simply because they ceased to be a benefit. She silently
shuddered at such cold-hearted practices, and felt a growing dread at the
understanding that was forming in her mind.

This time the wooden door took them to a beautiful marble hall
filled with light. Unlike the other “resting places,” which had seemed rather
solitary, this hall was filled with people. They lounged on large pillows,
discussing a variety of topics in lively voices. The expanding sound of music
echoed through the hall, but it was difficult to see where it came from.

E’rian stood in place for several moments, swaying to the music
with her eyes closed. Finally, she looked at her daughter with a smile. “I love
music.”

Adesina smiled in return. “Me, too.”

In all honesty, music had never really been a part of her life
until she had met Ravi. Since then, it had become a powerful influence over
her. Her guardian seemed to take music with him wherever he went, and Adesina
began to associate music with all the qualities that personified Ravi. He was a
source of strength, her comfort in hard times, calming, encouraging, a voice of
reason, and so much more. In its own way, music had become those things to her
as well.

The L’avan seemed to share the deep love of music that Adesina
assumed was part of Rashad nature. It was not uncommon for her companions to
suddenly break into song and have everyone join in. They had begun teaching
some of the songs to her, but she preferred to listen rather than add in her
voice.

E’rian walked over to the group of music connoisseurs and managed
to detach one of them, leading him over to where her daughter was waiting. He
was a short, balding man with snub features and a fussy air. “So, you want a
memory, do you?”

She immediately took a dislike to his tone of voice, but her
mother acted as if nothing were wrong. “Yes, that is correct.”

The man sighed as if it were a great imposition. “Will it be just
the one?”

She rolled her eyes while E’rian smiled patiently. “Yes.”

He reached out his hand, which Adesina gripped harder than what
was strictly necessary. The man flinched, but did not pull away. The blanket of
light whisked them into the warren of his memories.

She opened her eyes to find them standing in a well-lit study. The
wall hangings were blood red in color and the large window was covered by a
gilded screen. The king from the previous memories sat at a large desk filled
with books and documents. It was clear that several years had passed, as
evidenced by his graying hair and the weary expression on his face.

The door opened to admit a young page. “Your Majesty, there is a
messenger here for you.”