The Threshold Child (46 page)

***

It was pitch black in the windowless room, but his eyes had grown
accustomed to it. There was a bit of straw in the corner that was rank with
mold and excrement. The stones of the floor and walls stole away any heat that
existed in the room, leaving the huddled figure shivering from the chill. The
slow drip of water into a rusted pail sounded like the seconds on a clock.

When he had first been thrown into this nightmarish abyss, he had
counted each drip. It had occupied his mind and kept him from dwelling on the
last image his eyes had seen. As time passed, however, the picture of her face
pushed its way to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

E’rian.

At least, she had looked just like E’rian. Deep down he knew that
it couldn’t have been her. The eyes had been different and the features of her
face had been just a touch too sharp. He had traced the lines of his wife’s
face often enough to know them perfectly. Also, his mind told him that the face
had been too young to be the woman he had lost so long ago.

That left only two possibilities, each worst than the last.

The first possibility was that the Shimat had found a way to make
some sort of copy of his beloved E’rian. The second possibility was that the
Shimat had his daughter, Ma’eve. He couldn’t bear either thought.

In the distance he heard the echoing sound of footsteps, and
through the cracks in between the heavy door and the wall could be seen a
flicker of light. The figure braced himself for what he knew was coming.

The jingling of keys was followed by the door bursting open. The
harsh torchlight caused the prisoner to flinch and shade his eyes. Two heavily
armed guards and a woman dressed in black robes filed into the room.

She cast her eyes on the filthy, beaten figure before her. His
hair was matted with blood and grime, and his face was bruised and swollen. His
clothing had been reduced to rags, due to the numerous beatings he had
received.

A cruel smile spread across her face. “You may think it strange
that you have been asked no questions, but I find that the tongue is loosed
after a bit of pain. It saves time and frustration overall.”

The prisoner looked up into the strong features of the Sharifal,
but said nothing. As soon as he had realized where he was—however many days,
weeks, or months ago it had been—he had determined not to say a single word to
his captors. He couldn’t pretend to be mute, because they had heard his cries
of pain. Still, he knew that his silence was the only power that remained in
his grasp.

The woman’s vicious smile widened. “What is your name?”

The grim expression did not waver on the prisoner’s face. He
closed his eyes, waiting for the pain that was sure to follow.

Signe merely shrugged. “It does not matter. A name will not save
you here. In fact, a name has no meaning for you anymore. Your identity has
been taken from you as easily as you were taken from your former life.”

The prisoner fought to hold back the emotion he felt, but he
couldn’t hide the look of pain that flashed across his face when he thought
about the circumstances surrounding his abduction. Signe observed his reaction
with interest.

 
“Are you hurt by the
betrayal of one of your own people? Or perhaps, is there more to all of this
than we anticipated?”

The prisoner’s expression immediately became stony, trying to hide
any trace of the answers for which the Sharifal was looking. Signe continued to
study his beaten face for several minutes before straightening slowly.

“Well, a few more days of pain may make you more cooperative.”

She and her guards backed out of the cell, slamming the door shut
with a reverberating clang. The prisoner waited for the footsteps to die away
before burying his face in his arms and weeping for his lost child.

Adesina glanced back over her shoulder one last time before Yavar
was out of sight. It was strange that she had been there for such a short time,
but she felt such a strong connection to it. It felt more like home than any
other place in which she had lived.

E’nes noticed her reluctance and studied her face worriedly. “Are
you having second thoughts about this mission?”

She gave him a half smile. “No. I am just sorry to leave.”

He nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

Adesina suspected that her brother’s feelings were quite different
from her own. It had been heart-wrenching to watch E’nes and his wife part. He
had been away for so long, and this new mission would not likely end well. They
had refused to say goodbye to each other. Instead, E’nes had kissed Wren’na and
promised to be back soon.

Adesina desperately hoped that this promise would be fulfilled.

They traveled through Pevothem at a quick pace, though not as
quickly as Adesina would have liked. Still, she understood the need to pace the
horses. The journey ahead of them was bound to be a long one.

Her eyes fell on the horse she was riding. It had been a gift,
although she was not exactly sure from whom. E’nes had presented it to her, but
it looked suspiciously like one of the horses she had seen at the palace.

He was a large warhorse with a satin black coat. He had a single
white star on his forehead, which had inspired the name she gave him: Torith,
which was the Shimat word for
star
. It seemed fitting that her horse,
like herself, should have a Shimat name. He was beautiful and proud, and
Adesina had loved him immediately.

E’nes pulled his horse closer to Adesina’s, speaking to her in a
soft voice. “I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you before we
left, but we ran out of time.”

She looked at her brother in curiosity. “What is it?”

He extended his hand. Lying across his palm was the dagger that
had belonged to her father, the one that Horas had found in an alley of the
High City. Adesina shook her head when she realized what it was. “No, E’nes.
You should have Father’s dagger.”

E’nes smiled. “He would want you to have it. It has been passed
down through our family for many generations. You should have something that
shows your heritage.”

Adesina took it reverently and attached it to her belt. “Thank
you.”

He shrugged, indicating that it was nothing. Then he glanced at
Ravi, who was trotting alongside the horses. “What did Rajan say when you told
him you were leaving again?”

Ravi’s reply was simple. “He knows where my first duty lies. He
supports the path I have chosen.”

Adesina joined the conversation. “What about your family?”

He snorted softly. “Rissa almost threw a fit, but my parents were
more understanding.” After a pause he added, “Remah was sad.”

E’nes could empathize, but Adesina could not. “You seem to be in
love.”

Ravi and E’nes both laughed, which made Adesina feel defensive.

“It was my understanding that your betrothal was an arranged
affair. I assumed love had little to do with it.”

Her guardian inclined his head, only slightly less amused. “Yes,
it was arranged for us, but Rashad marriages are created the same way L’avan
marriages are.”

She looked to her brother for an explanation, which he was happy
to supply. “The L’avan occasionally have arranged marriages as well. A child is
taken to a Reader by it’s parents, and they are told who the child is meant to
marry.”

Adesina frowned. “A Reader?”

He inclined his head. “Someone who specializes in the reading and
understanding one’s spirit. They are able to project their
vyala
further and deeper than most. This enables them to find the
perfect match for a child—the one they would be happiest with and love the
most. A more common term would be ‘soul mates,’ although it is not quite
accurate in describing a L’avan match. We called them our
dava
.”

She was strangely unsettled by this revelation. “I am surprised
that a civilization as advanced as the L’avan would continue such practices.”

Her brother quirked an eyebrow. “You said the same thing about our
religious practices.”

She waved a hand impatiently. “Yes, but this is different. To
choose a mate for a child before they are old enough to have a say in the
matter…”

Ravi smiled calmly. “Ma’eve, how many times must I tell you that
there is always a choice? No L’avan is forced to marry, but they always choose
to do so. Not only that, but they often choose to marry as soon as they are old
enough rather than waiting a few years. Why would they not want to spend the
rest of their existence with the great love of their heart?”

“How old are the children when they are taken to the Reader?”
asked Adesina.

“Well, both children of the match must be living. Most parents go
to the Reader as soon as they discover they are with child. The Reader reaches
out to the unborn infant’s spirit and then searches the rest of the L’avan for
their perfect match. The
dava
and
it’s parents are then summoned to the Reader for a more in-depth check to make
sure they are meant for each other. If a child’s match is not currently alive,
they wait until they are summoned by the Reader.”

She was doing her best to keep the incredulous expression off of
her face, but wasn’t sure if she was succeeding. “How old were you when you
were matched with Wren’na?”

A smile stole over E’nes’ face. “I was six months old. Wren’na and
I are one year apart in age.”

Adesina’s tone became dismissive. “I suppose it is easy to fall in
love if you grow up knowing that you are going to marry each other.”

Her brother nodded slowly. “That may be true in some cases, but I
did not meet Wren’na until one week before our wedding. Her family raises
horses on a farm north of Yavar.”

“Yet you still wanted to marry her?” she asked in amazement.

His expression softened as he thought of his beloved wife. “Yes. I
was actually infatuated with someone else at the time. It was a hard decision
to make, but I trusted in the Reader’s ability enough to follow through. I have
been so grateful ever since. No one could make me as happy as Wren’na.”

Adesina frowned. “What if someone’s
dava
dies or chooses someone else to marry? It does not seem fair
to be told you have a soul mate out there somewhere if you can never be with
them.”

“Not every L’avan has a
dava
,”
her brother clarified. “One of my good friends was told that he would be happy with
any woman he chose because of his joyful nature and his determination to build
a loving relationship. I would estimate that only one out of every ten children
has a
dava
.”

There was a brief pause as E’nes chose his words. “As for the
first part of your question, it is extremely rare for one’s
dava
to die young. That is to say,
before adulthood. Personally, I have only heard of it happening once.”

A troubling thought occurred to Adesina. “Did I have a
dava
?”

E’nes shifted in his saddle uncomfortably. “That does not matter,
Adesina. You have been away long enough that no one expects you to follow our
traditions.”

 
“I did, did I not?” she
pressed on.

“Well, yes,” he admitted reluctantly, “but like I said before, you
are not held to the arrangement. Everyone assumed you were dead, so your
dava
has been in mourning long enough to
honorably choose another to wed.”

“Who is it?”

There was no room in her tone for argument, and had they not been
interrupted, Adesina probably would have gotten the information she demanded.
Fortunately for E’nes, L’iam’s voice broke over them, calling her attention
away.

“Adesina, we are leaving Rashad lands. Would you be willing to
provide us with some cover as a precaution?”

They were now within sight of the thieves’ forest. With an
irritated glance at her brother, she reached inward to connect with her
vyala
. In response to her desire,
Adesina’s
vyala
touched the light
around them, becoming one with it, and her vision was tinted red with the
change that occurred. She bent the light around them, creating the illusion
that there was nothing but grass where they were riding.

This took all of Adesina’s concentration, since she was still a
beginner at using
vyala
. She had been
assured that practice would make it easier in time. Still, as of right now she
was left with her focus solely on her
vyala
,
and was unable to prevent E’nes from moving his horse to ride alongside L’iam.

She couldn’t even pay attention to the quiet conversations going
on around her. Ravi and Sa’jan were chatting with each other in low voices, and
E’nes and L’iam were conversing. Adesina had not yet learned how to cover their
sound as well as their visible presence, therefore they could not speak in
normal voices without running the risk of being heard. It irritated her that
she didn’t have focus to spare to listen to what was being said around her.