The Lost Realm (18 page)

G
ulph stared up into the face of his mother, his heart galloping. Tendrils of mist swirled wraithlike around her waist. Her whole body shimmered, and for an instant he was sure he was dreaming. Then the mist cleared, and she was entirely there.

“Mother. Mother, it's me. It's Gulph.”

Kalia regarded him with a puzzled frown, showing no signs of recognition.

“Oh, I mean Agulphus. My name's Agulphus.”

The frown remained.

She's beautiful
, Gulph thought, seeing not the burn scars but what lay beneath.

“I'm one of the three—uh, your three . . . I mean, the triplets,” he said. He was breathless and confused, and the words tangled in his mouth. “I'm . . . I'm your son.”

“I have no children,” said Kalia sharply.

Gulph shot a startled glance at Ossilius. Like Gulph, the former captain had dropped to his knees. He was gazing up at Kalia with reverence.

“Impossible,” Ossilius said in a hoarse, breathless voice. “Were I not seeing this with my own eyes . . . Kalia, you died. Yet here you are.”

“Died?” Kalia replied. “What nonsense is this?”

Gulph felt close to tears. “If it really is you, then it isn't nonsense at all. It's just . . .”

“A miracle,” said Ossilius.

Kalia shook her head. Her frown deepened.

Rising to his feet, Ossilius spoke slowly to Kalia, as if to a small child. “It has been a long time. Thirteen years. Kalia, cast back your mind. Do you remember anything of the past?”

Kalia shook her head again, more vigorously. “You are wasting my time. I have no children. I do not know this boy. I do not know either of you.”

She gathered her gray robes about her and turned away.

“No!” cried Gulph. “Please don't go.”

“Castle Tor!” said Ossilius. “King Brutan—surely you must remember him. And Idilliam. Where you lived.”

Kalia hesitated, her body tense beneath the layers of flowing silk. “My home is here. I have always lived in Celestis. Now please, I have had enough of your lies.”

She sprang over the remains of their undead attackers and vanished into the mist.

Gulph leaped to his feet, shouting her name. He ran after her: ten steps, twenty. It was like chasing down a ghost. At last he skidded to a halt. She was nowhere to be seen. His mother had come to him—had saved his life—and now she was gone again.

He returned to where Ossilius was waiting. He felt like he had received a gift, only to have it snatched from his hands.

“I don't understand,” he said. “I mean, I know she won't recognize me—I was just a baby. But . . .” He stretched an arm around, touching his crooked back. “Am I that much of a disappointment to her?”

“Never think that!” snapped Ossilius. “You do not disappoint, Gulph. You never could.”

“I thought my father had her burned to death. Now I don't know what to think.”

“But she
was
dead. Burned to ashes,” said Ossilius. “Gulph, what I have never told you is that I saw it with my own eyes.”

Gulph's mouth dropped open. “You were actually there at the . . . at the execution?”

“Not at the burning itself, thank the stars. I do not think I could have stood by and watched such cruelty. No, I was part of the detail sent to remove the stake and pyre from the execution yard. And to clear the remains.”

“But if she died, how can she . . . ?”

“Magic, Gulph.”

“Magic?”

“There is no other explanation. I do not pretend to understand it, but magic may explain why she is here. It may also explain the way of her mind. Consider this: she is not the only person we have met who has lost their memory.”

“Sidebottom John!”

“Exactly. Which means the magic may be right here, in Celestis itself.”

Gulph's thoughts were dark shadows.
If she died, and is here now, then she is one of the undead. Not like my father and his awful shambling soldiers, but she can't be truly alive. In which case . . . what is she?

“Magic in Celestis,” he said slowly, pulling back from this unnerving train of thought. “Magic that makes people forget. Will we forget things too, Ossilius?”

Ossilius sighed. “Think about what you have seen these past days, Gulph. Do you really believe you can forget such horrors? Can any of us?”

“I suppose not.”

But how would we know?

“We should go back.” Ossilius was staring at the pile of recovered Trident bodies. His mouth was drawn down in such sadness that Gulph put aside his own misery.

“You don't know that Fessan's here,” Gulph said. “He's probably safe somewhere, planning the next attack.”

“Perhaps,” Ossilius replied.

The following day Gulph found himself seated once more at the table in Lady Redina's courtyard. He still felt dazed by his meeting with Kalia, and although he knew he should be hungry, the familiar selection of fresh fish and bowls of tiny steamed vegetables held little appeal. He was sitting close to the vase again, he saw with relief, so he could at least tip away his goblet of wine when he got the chance. He'd just have to try to eat the rest.

“And this young man is Gulph,” Lady Redina was saying. With a start he realized she was introducing his party to the handful of Celestians also invited to the feast.

“Pleased to meet you,” he mumbled, forgot the Celestians' names almost as soon as he'd heard them, then panicked as he considered what Ossilius had said about magic and memory.

Get a grip, Gulph!
he scolded himself.
You're just distracted, that's all.

As they picked up their forks, a sixth Celestian appeared around the corner of the house and crossed the courtyard to join them at the table. She was small, and very light on her feet. Her long, red-gold hair flowed like a pennant behind her.

It was Kalia.

His pulse racing, Gulph rose from his seat, his mouth filling up with formless words. Ossilius pulled him back down.

“Stay calm, Gulph,” he whispered. “Let us see what unfolds.”

“You are welcome, Kalia, if a trifle late,” said Lady Redina. She spread her arms and addressed the whole assembly. “This is a feast of welcome for our new friends. I say ‘friends' and not ‘guests' because you are all part of Celestis now. It is your home for as long as the crystal endures.”

There was something final about this that Gulph didn't like. But he heeded Ossilius's advice and bit his tongue. He glanced toward Marcus and Hetty. They were citizens of Idilliam—surely they'd heard the name Kalia before? Would they make the connection? But they showed no sign of recognition.

“It is pleasant to see you again,” Kalia said to Gulph, helping herself to a plate of oysters.

Again, Gulph tried to speak, and failed.

“Oh. Do you know our new friends, Kalia?” Lady Redina's voice carried smoothly across the table.

“Not really. We happened to meet yesterday. They had wandered into the chasm. I helped them.”

That's all true
. Gulph held his breath, waiting for Kalia to reveal what he'd said about her being his mother.

But she said no more. His secret was safe, and that was a relief. Still, curiosity burned in him. Kalia clearly recalled meeting him, but had she forgotten what they'd talked about? Was she affected by whatever magic held sway here too? Or was she simply being discreet?

There were so many questions.

How can I ask any of them without giving myself away?

Then it came to him.

After emptying his wine goblet surreptitiously into the vase, Gulph cleared his throat and said, “Do you know someone called Sidebottom John?”

Lady Redina smiled warmly and spread her arms wide. “I know everyone in Celestis.”

This idea was oddly unnerving. Gulph pressed on. “Well, I met him here yesterday. He was a jester in the Tangletree Players—we've known each other for years. But when I approached him, he didn't recognize me. Isn't that peculiar?”

“The poor man,” said Lady Redina. “How very sad.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“Your friend was discovered wandering by the silver lake. I believe he must have found his way down to Celestis from the world above, just as you and your friends did, Gulph.”

We hardly “found our way.” We fell.

“As for the state of his mind, I judge that he is suffering from the shock of war. You have told me about the recent terrible events in Toronia—the fighting, the atrocities. Is it any wonder his mind has closed up like a flower?” She shook her head. “The poor, poor man.”

“I suppose you're right.” Ossilius had suggested the same, after all.

“Perhaps . . . if your friend were to spend a little time with you, his memory might be stimulated.”

Before Gulph could say anything, Lady Redina was snapping her fingers and telling a servant to seek out Sidebottom John and bring him to the feast.

Gulph didn't know what to say. He'd started out convinced that Lady Redina was hiding something, yet here she was clearly willing to help.

And if it works—if I can help him remember—perhaps I can help my mother, too.

“Thank you, Lady Redina,” he said, toasting her with his empty goblet. “You're very kind.”

With the meal over, the dinner guests left the table and began to mingle and chatter in the garden. Gulph strolled alone between rows of sculpted ruby roses and beneath overhanging crystal fronds that tinkled like chimes in the breeze. At any other time, he would have been curious to explore, but all he was really interested in was seeing his friend.

At last the servant returned. Trotting after him was a beaming Sidebottom John.

“I remember you,” John cried immediately, seizing Gulph's hand.

Gulph grinned and felt his heart swell. “You do? You really do?”

“By the gollies, I do! We did meet on the path yesterday. I had my fruits!”

Gulph felt crushed. “Is that all you remember, John?”

“On the path.” John nodded vigorously. “We was on the path. You, and me, and the fruits.”

“Yes. Yes, we were. But what about before that? Do you remember Idilliam?”

“Iddle Ham?”

“We performed for the king. Then everything went . . . there was fighting and . . .”

Gulph's words dried up as Sidebottom John's face grew slack with incomprehension.

How can I get through to him?

“You like fruit, yes?” he said with sudden inspiration.

John's face lit up. “Fruits is my favorites.”

“Stay there!”

Gulph grabbed three apples, as shrunken as the tiny vegetables, from a bowl on the table, then drew John to a secluded spot behind an outcrop of green crystal. Out of sight of the other guests, he bent his knees a little, then began to juggle the fruit.

“That's good!” John exclaimed, clapping his hands together like a delighted child. “That's is clever.”

Gulph continued to juggle. The apples rose and fell in their endless round. It was a kind of practical magic—the kind of magic anyone could do.

No—not just anyone.

“You can do this too, John,” he said. He stopped juggling and let the little apples drop, one after the other, into his left hand, then held them out. But Sidebottom John backed away, shaking his head.

“Oh no, John can't do the flippities. That's for the clever folk. Like you.”

“But you
can
do it, John. You really can.”

Something flashed momentarily across John's face: a fleeting expression of . . . what? Remembrance? Sadness? Fear? Gulph couldn't tell. It was there and gone too quickly.

“No,” John said emphatically. “John doesn't do that.”

“All right. How about this?”

Gulph dropped the apples, bent double, and went into a handstand. Still on his hands, he walked a complete circle around John. When he was back where he'd started, he jumped onto his feet again.