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FJ had been gone for almost a year. His letters had become more sporadic, and often had a reserved air. Ultana didn't seem to really notice, but she was exceptionally proud of her son's good penmanship and high-ranked friends. Adia, for her part, only got the feeling that something was wrong with FJ. The only time the girl had brought as much up with the lady, Adia was told that FJ was growing up. Adia didn't think that was it. It just didn't fit. Had Adia's mother been a Dreamer instead of an elf, she would have picked up what was wrong with her daughter. However, that wasn't so. Although the woman had associated closely with more than her fair share of Dreamers, she had never quite been touched by their abilities. Her blind eyes, however, sometimes disturbed those who gazed too long in their sightless depths. One day, however, Adia snuggled into her mother's lap. Gazing up into the too-clear blue eyes, she frowned thoughtfully. Her mother began to stroke her hair. "Mama, what's your name?" The woman paused a moment thoughtfully, but continued touching her daughter's hair. "I don't have one anymore. I gave it to your father to keep," she said softly, not seeing Adia's nod. The girl had asked before, and the familiar answer comforted her. "You never saw him, did you?" She wrapped her arms around her mother's neck as she asked yet another familiar question. "Once. In my dreams. I have always been blind, angel.." Adia shifted her weight slightly, mulling this over and weighing it with more consideration than she had before. "Do all Dreamers talk to people in their dreams?" This, being a new question, caused a long pause from Adia's mother. The woman closed her eyes a moment. Adia kissed her mother's eyelids and waited patiently. Closed eyes always meant that her mother was going to say something important, and wanted to word it right. Finally, her eyes opened. "Some do. Those who wish to touch people they love deeply do. Sometimes, though, it's very hard to find the right person. If they're hiding from themselves or someone else, a Dreamer will never find them. Your father told me once that any Dreamer who touches a non-Dreamer in this way will always be attached to their soul. That they will never be truly apart. They just have to know this. Believe this. It will be so." Adia's mother paused a moment as if she was about to say more, but fell silent instead. Adia frowned a little. "Would I be able to, Mama? Would I be able to touch someone's dreams?" Her mother smiled in a funny manner. "I'm not sure you would want to do that, my angel. Whoever you touched would be with you forever. Who would you want to touch that way?" Adia hugged her mother. "You, Mama." "Only me? I think not." Adia giggled softly. "What does it look like? In the dreams? Did daddy ever tell you?" The blind woman stroked her daughter's hair again thoughtfully. Closing her eyes for a few moments. "The dreams themselves depend on who you're touching, Adia. Although, he did tell me something once. Do you want to hear?" Adia nodded. She knew her mother would never see the nod, but would know her daughter wanted to know. "He told me once, oh, long before you were here..." "What did he tell you?" Adia asked with a small tone of impatience. "...He told me that everyone, deep down, has a tiny eternal light inside them. Like a brilliant star. It could never be destroyed, no matter what. That it's more resilient than the soul could ever hope to be, more beautiful than anyone's body could possibly be. These little bright stars inside of everyone can be seen in a place just beyond the world where we live, and the land where we dream. "And it's this way Dreamers see people. They can peek into that little between place and see everything. But if they reach out and touch one of those stars, enter someone's dreams, they take away a small particle of that light, and leave part of their own in exchange. Each lives on within the other." Adia mulled this over for a moment. "Mama, how do they know they have the right person? How can they tell all those little stars apart? If they touch the wrong person's dreams, won't that mess things up?" Adia's mother shook her head. "No. They can just tell the right light when they find it. If they know the person, the star responds to them... pulls to them." The girl, laying her head on her mother's chest, nodded. "I think I see... Is it safe to try it?" Adia's mother laughed softly. "Safe as anything else, angel. And you can visit my dreams anytime, just like your father did before died to join the stars forever," she said before kissing her daughter on the forehead. Adia's mood had changed. She had become contented at the prospect of a possible way to reach FalseJest.
There were moments, however, where such dark-hearted feelings fled to be replaced by simple cold logic. Moments such as now. FJ was waiting for Kital to discuss the latest letter he had received. The half elf could not give up his appreciation for knowing the little tidbits that the older boy could ferret out of conversations and his father's letters. This was all that FJ found he truly admired about Kital now. "This should be interesting..." Kital commented as he scanned over the letter one last time. The older boy worked on unbuttoning his shirt before he spoke again. "It seems that Linitroth is going to start trying to regulate the trade of the baronies and outer providences." He paused again as he hung the shirt up on a hook. "Looks like they're also planning on placing taxes on the slave trade that --" "Slave trade!" FJ was startled. He'd heard rumors that such a thing existed, but he had never believed them. Kital sighed. "Yes. Slave trade. In the outer providences. It's the only way they can get anyone to try and clear all that damn land. Now settle down. "Those two proposals were made by, you'll love this, your grandfather. Looks like Lord Linitroth was trying to set up some sort of play. It should have failed, but the king and almost half the Council is backing him as well as some of the younger baronies. My father, on the other hand, is against it. He's got the backing of the other half, and the older barons besides. Lovely mess all of it." FJ nodded slowly. "Don't think it could lead to anything like war, do you?" Kital shrugged, and sat down on the bed. "If it did, we'd be on opposite sides, technically. The trade regulation's the big prickly, slave trade's just to piss everyone off." He fingered FJ's hair. "Besides, it's not that big an issue. It'll all probably blow over in a few weeks. What makes you think there'd be war?" FJ shrugged faintly, and tried not to edge away from Kital. "It was just a question. That's all...Well, look at it like this: If there is war, we'd just have to sit tight here and go through classes. You know how it works. No burning farms or cities. No killing little FJ's with pretty eyes. This is the safest place we could possibly be if something like that happens since anyone who's anyone has a son going here. Cheer up, FJ. Could be worse." FJ nodded slowly. He thought it could be much worse. Much worse indeed. And he was sure he'd be proven right within the next fifteen minutes or so. "So you don't think there's any chance of it at all?" Kital wrapped an arm around FJ and pulled him close. "Not a chance," he murmured as he undid the younger boy's shirt. "Besides, you're safe here with me..."
He had always been told by his mother that things like that were wrong, and she always made a clear distinction between the women who worked for her and slaves. The women were free to leave when they wanted to, and were allowed to be married. They just had to adopt the rules and regulations of the house and pay Lady Ultana her share. That was all. Hearing that his grandfather was protesting slavery in some far-flung providence made FJ certain that his mother had picked up her stance on the matter from him. But still, it was strange. Why had he never heard of this before? FJ rubbed the bruise on his neck a moment. It might have been because he just hadn't mingled with a group of people who would know all that was going on in world. Sure the sailors at the docks and migrant artists had been widely traveled, but who would speak of such things to an eight year old boy? Someone like Kital. He could understand the issue against slavery, but not the one about trade. Kital had not elaborated on it further. Not even after FJ had ... No. Not even then. FJ bit his lip at the memory. He was no good at pumping for information that way, and he would never want to be that way. The half elf had heard such people referred to as 'bed weasels' in the burlesque house, and he'd never want the label applied to himself in particular. FJ shuddered at the memory of Kital's touch. He had tried to escape to the stars again, but had not even been able to invoke their image. FalseJest's memory was horribly sharp of the earlier events, and he had nothing to dull their razor edges. For a claustrophobic moment, he thought he could see the walls drawing in about him. Little malicious beings working their way down from the attic with sharp claws... He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, then reopened them. No. It did not exist. What he had thought he'd seen was not real. Oh, FalseJest, you idiot. He felt the presence of the boys who had slept in this bed in the past as he drifted off, dreaming of their long-past worries and childhood memories torn apart too soon.
She could see his star. It flickered and winked at her, seeming to laugh softly and beacon her. Sometimes she thought it spoke to her. 'Come on Adia! It's me! Don't you remember me? Don't you want to visit me at all? If you come, we can go sit on the roof again and name the stars...' Yes, FalseJest. I remember you. I want to come and see you so badly. I found a little red star the other week, and I named it after you. Have you named any stars after me? FJ... let me in FJ... what's wrong? Adia knew it was just her imagination. But she knew something was wrong. Something horrible. Something he would never willingly tell her. "FJ, I'm sorry..." She sobbed quietly until, at last, ordinary mortal sleep took her. |
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Text ©2000
Laura
Woolard |
Adia
had become moody. It wasn't a normal state for her at all,
really. If anyone asked her what was wrong, she would snap
at them. If anyone asked her to do something out of her way,
she'd do a little more than snap. Overall, it was a
remarkable state for someone as naturally sweet-tempered as
she was.
