With A Spirit Of Love

Many thanks to Perona, Jukebox, DrkDreamer, Snidne, Evangeline Bliss and Story Junkie for your wonderful feedback! It is so much more appreciated than I can ever express.

Perona -- Lord Bothain isn’t in this chapter. But don’t worry! We’ll be seeing alot more of him in the upcoming ones.

Jukebox -- *Wink* And thanks again.

DrkDreamer -- I very much share your attitude about sex being sex no matter who you’re attracted to. I still remember something Michael Stipe said in an interview, when they were pressing him about whether he was gay or not. He said that he didn’t understand why people had to be classified as homosexual, or heterosexual, or even bisexual. Why couldn’t they just be sexual? I, and my characters, tend to take that to heart.

Snidne -- I think “pure genius” may be a bit more than I deserve, but I thank you for it all the same!

Evangeline Bliss -- Thank you! I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Story Junkie -- Greetings! It’s so wonderful to have you reading my work again. Now that I’ve finally got this chapter posted, maybe I’ll have a chance to catch up on “The Monastery.”

I’m sorry that this update took awhile. While it’s true that I already had most of this story written, I wrote it while working under a deadline, and the pressures of meeting that deadline meant that I couldn’t always produce my finest work. So I’ve been going back over the chapters to carefully polish them and bring them up to the standards I want to be known for at AFF. For the first two chapters, that only took a week for each. Unfortunately, this last one was a bit rougher, so it took me over two weeks. And I’m afraid that may be the case for Chapter Four as well. I hope the increased quality makes up for the wait.

Love,
Falcon

P.S. Remember, please don't mention any spoilers in your reviews. (See my note at the beginning of Chapter One.)


With A Spirit Of Love

Chapter Three

“Effrem?”

“Yes?”

Rolling over onto his side, Kythos settled into a more comfortable position. Beside him, Effrem still lay on his back on the grass, flecks of moonlight tangled in the curls of his brown hair. Kythos fought the urge to comb them loose with his fingers. “Do you like being a member of Lilis’s temple?”

“I did, yes.” Sadness rippled through Effrem’s voice as if each word was a stone tossed into an ancient and bottomless ocean. “I remember helping bake the small flat cakes we handed out on festival nights, round and pale like full moons. I remember the smell of old parchment. I remember walking down the long stone hallways, when the only thing I could hear was the sound of the other devotees chanting. There was such peace there. Like everything was good and everything was holy.”

“But you’re not a member anymore?”

A moment of hesitation preceded Effrem’s reply. “No.”

“Why not?”

Effrem didn’t answer. Sensing his friend’s sorrow, Kythos wanted reach out and take his hand. But he remembered how badly Effrem had reacted the last time he tried to touch him. “In the bathhouse, on Lord Bothain’s estate, you said something about what ‘they’ did to you. Is that why you don’t belong to the temple anymore?”

Still, no reply. Effrem seemed to have frozen, his face and body tensed stiff. Kythos couldn’t help thinking of a mouse he’d watched Acca hunt, desperately trying to hide by pressing itself down against the ground in the vain hope that it might escape the bloody grip of her talons. “Effrem?”

A tear slid from the corner of Effrem’s eye. In the moonlight, the small silver droplet seemed almost to glitter. Kythos recognized his friend’s pain. He knew how it felt to keep things inside, to bury them deep until they rotted, becoming so ugly that even a glimpse drove people away. He knew how unspoken secrets could cast their stench over an entire life.

“When I was seven,” Kythos murmured, “my mother died. I was there. I think I saw what killed her. A terrible creature of shadow and malice. When it reached for me, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream. Then it just dissipated. I tried to tell my father what I’d seen, but he wouldn’t believe me. He got almost violent about it, demanding that I never mention it to anyone else because they’d think that I was out of my mind. So I never did. As the years passed, I tried to convince myself that he was right, that it had only been a trick of my imagination. But that thing still comes to me in my nightmares. And I know -- I just know -- it was real.”

Silence. Drawing a shuddering breath, Kythos sat up, bowed his head and waited. Waited for Effrem understand the gift of trust Kythos had just given him and to find the strength to trust in return. He didn’t have to wait for long.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Effrem began. His voice trembled, but despite that, he pressed on. “That’s what never made any sense to me. Why would Lilis punish me? If I didn’t do anything wrong?”

Kythos had long ago abandoned his belief that the world, in any way, shape or fashion, made sense. But he didn’t mention that to Effrem. Instead, he raised his head and gazed at his friend. Effrem remained rigid, his eyes fixed on the night sky as he spoke. He seemed to be reading his story from the patterns written in its constellations.

“Our herbalist needed some ingredients for a salve. I was so excited when she chose me to go buy them. After I’d run away from home, I’d gone straight to the temple, and I hadn’t left its grounds for three years. I hadn’t ever really seen the city. Now, finally, I had a chance.”

A smile crept onto Kythos’s lips as he imagined the wonders that Deorwine would hold for someone like Effrem.

“It was amazing,” Effrem continued. “So many people, so many marvelous things. But I guess I got careless. Didn’t pay enough attention to where I was going. After buying the herbs, I got lost and couldn’t find my way back to the temple. I wandered into a part of the city where I shouldn’t have been -- a place that stank of drink, and garbage, and despair. Then it got dark. But I still wasn’t afraid. That’s the odd thing, isn’t it? Lilis’s moon was in the sky, ringed by a strange white fire, like a gauzy shawl around her face. Everything looked so different in its soft glow. When the light touched me, I felt closer to Lilis than I ever had before. I felt sure that she was there with me, guiding my steps.”

Kythos’s smile vanished. “The gods always find ways to punish people for their faith.”

“There were some men. Maybe they were drunk. Maybe they thought I was a prostitute dressed like a devotee of Lilis to attract customers. Or maybe they were just evil men. Evil does exist. Living in the temple, I’d almost forgotten that.” Effrem shook his head. “As they came toward me, they said things -- things you don’t say to a temple devotee. I tried to ignore them. I tried to hurry past them. But one man grabbed my arm.”

More tears followed the first, leaving shimmering trails down the sides of Effrem’s face. Kythos had a bad feeling about how this story ended. Part of him didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to imagine his friend suffering like that. But he knew that telling it would offer Effrem his only chance to heal. So Kythos clenched a handful of grass, grinding the tender blades with his fingers, and let Effrem continue.

“They wouldn’t let me go. I tried to get away, but they pulled a sack over my head, tied my hands behind my back and dragged me somewhere. Down an alley or into an abandoned building, I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything. I could hardly breathe. Then they threw me on the ground. When I tried to get up, they kicked me. Kicked me and laughed.”

A convulsion of rage wrenched Kythos’s hand and he tore the grass out of the ground by its roots. “Bastards,” he hissed.

“Pretty soon, they got tired of kicking me. That’s when they held me down. And pushed up my robes. Then they--” Effrem’s voice snagged in his throat, turning the word “they” into little more than a squeak. But he swallowed hard and regained control of himself. “They took turns with me.”

Shame engulfed Kythos. Ever since his mother’s death, he’d wallowed in the mud of his own self-pity. He’d acted like the world had never pissed on anyone like it pissed on him. But what had he ever suffered that could compare with what Effrem had lived through?

“It’s funny what you remember. One of them kept yelling at me, telling me to shut up, to stop crying like a baby. What did he expect me to do? Make pleasant conversation? Tell them that I liked it?” A strange, shrill laugh burst from Effrem, throwing loose the tears that clung to the sides of his face, sending them tumbling into the grass like a shower of falling stars. “I tried to stop crying. But it hurt. And I was so scared. I guess he decided to make me shut up because something hit my head. Hard. I don’t remember much after that.”

The urge to comfort Effrem overcame Kythos. He reached out, letting the mangled blades of grass fall from his grasp. But, before he could lay his hand over Effrem’s, Effrem hurled himself away, landing on his side facing Kythos.

“Don’t! Please. I know -- I know you mean well. But you can’t touch me. I’m not ready to... Please, don’t try. Promise me that you won’t try.”

“I promise,” Kythos complied, despite how he ached to enfold Effrem in his arms and shelter him from all further pain. But he held himself back. After being abducted, beaten and gang-raped, Effrem had every right to shy away from human touch. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But when I think of what those men did to you -- it kills me inside.”

“It killed me too,” Effrem whispered.

“How did you get away from them?”

“I passed out. When I woke up, it was morning, and I was lying in the forest, away from the city. I think they dumped me there to hide what they’d done. Somehow, I found my way back to Lilis’s temple. But nothing was the same anymore. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go on with things the way they had been. So, eventually, I left.”

“I’m sorry,” Kythos repeated, painfully aware of how stupid and empty that sounded. But he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“No. Don’t be sorry.” Effrem sat up and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. “The worst thing was the senselessness of it. But now I realize that it wasn’t senseless at all. Lilis didn’t punish me. She chose me.”

“Chose you?”

“If those men -- if they hadn’t done what they did, then things would be different. I never could have come to your garden like this. Lilis intended me to be with you, now, at this point in your life. And I think I’m beginning to understand why.”

Secretly, Kythos doubted that any aspect of his life warranted the attention of a goddess. Why should Lilis care about his loneliness? Why should she go out of her way to send him a friend? But if believing that it served a higher purpose made it easier for Effrem to cope with his ordeal, then Kythos wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’m glad that you’re here,” he agreed guiltily. “I can’t ever be glad about what happened to you. But having you around, being able to talk to you...it makes things bearable.”

“Yes.” Managing a fragile smile, Effrem nodded. “It makes things bearable for me too.”

Then Effrem sat silently, apparently lost in his own thoughts, and Kythos felt reluctant to disturb him. But he also didn’t want to leave his friend alone. Eventually, Kythos lay down on the grass and closed his eyes. I’ll just shut them for a moment, he vowed, as insects buzzed lullabies in the warm summer night. Just for a moment...

“Kythos!”

The sound of his father’s voice woke Kythos from his slumber. Groggily, he wondered why his sleeping mat felt even harder than usual, and why his clothes seemed slightly damp. For that matter, why was he even wearing clothes? Then he remembered. He was in the garden. With Effrem. Reluctant to explain the young man’s presence, Kythos rolled over to wake his friend. But Effrem had already gone, probably scared off by the shouting.

“Kythos! Where are you?”

“I’m over here, Father. By Mother’s shrine.” Glancing around, Kythos let his eyes adjust to the late morning light. Late morning? Shouldn’t his father be asleep by now, exhausted as usual after yet another night in his observatory? Why was he still up at this hour? And why was he searching for him?

“There you are.” Kythos’s father strode down the end of the path and into the clearing. As he approached Kythos, he stared at his son with obvious disapproval. “You slept in the garden? Is this another one of your wagers?”

“Not exactly.” Ignoring his aches and stiffness, Kythos pulled himself to his feet and brushed the grass from his rumpled clothes. He still couldn’t believe that his father had come looking for him. Had he noticed that Kythos wasn’t in his bedroom last night? Had he actually been worried?

Instead of explaining anything, Kythos’s father just shook his head. “I wish there was time for you to clean up. You’re not going to make a very good impression on Lord and Lady Coradine. Not to mention their daughter.”

The names unleashed a torrent of images through Kythos’s mind. Swept along in their flow, he remembered Acca’s theft of the diamond necklace, the young woman who threatened to tell her parents about it, and Lord Bothain’s warning: That was the daughter of Lord and Lady Coradine. If she tells her parents what you did, you might be in for a very unpleasant visit. Perfect. The one time his father took any notice of him and it was to discipline him in front of complete strangers. Could his life possibly get any more humiliating?

“I--” Kythos started to explain.

His father cut him off. “You have grass in your hair,” he announced, before turning around and walking back toward the house. Unable to think of any real alternative, Kythos hurried after him, all the while raking his fingers through his hair in an effort to remove the offending bits of foliage.

Their guests were waiting for them in the parlor, one of the few rooms with any remaining pieces of furniture. Lady Coradine, a plump and matronly woman, bulged beyond the confines of an armchair that creaked whenever she shifted her ample weight. Standing beside her, Lord Coradine seemed to have decided that he’d rather not subject himself to any of the rickety furnishings. And, next to them, on the faded and patched remnant of what had once been a beautiful loveseat, sat their daughter. Kythos had expected her to look angry, or triumphant, but when he entered the room she lowered her eyes and her cheeks betrayed the faintest hint of a blush.

“Kythos,” his father introduced him, “this is Lord and Lady Coradine. We’ve just concluded our negotiations.”

Negotiations? They’d agreed on a punishment so horrible that they actually needed to negotiate the details? Or maybe his father had simply sold him to Lord and Lady Coradine. Feeling sick, Kythos braced himself for the worst. But nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

Stiffly, Lord Coradine stepped forward, gripped Kythos’s hand, and shook it firmly. “Congratulations, young man. Genevra will make an excellent wife.”

Kythos blinked, and then blinked again. The implications of Lord Coradine’s statement seemed so absurd that he couldn’t grasp them. They were like handfuls of greased snakes wriggling through his fingers. Finally, from the tangle of bewilderment writhing inside him, Kythos managed to push out one word. “Wife?”

“Yes,” his father confirmed. “It’s all settled. The wedding will take place next month.”

“But--”

“Two nights ago, you accused me of several things. Things which, I’m forced to admit, were not entirely without justification.” To his surprise, Kythos heard genuine regret in his father’s voice. “It’s true that I’ve left you with no means to earn your way in the world. Well, Lord Coradine agrees that you have abundant potential and, after you marry his daughter, he’ll see to it that you’re schooled in whatever it is that his family does. When you’re ready, he’ll assign you a good post with appropriate responsibilities. It won’t make you extravagantly rich, but you’ll be comfortable. A great deal more comfortable, certainly, than you’ve been here.”

Kythos wanted to scream. His father had finally done something, had finally tried to provide for his son. And he’d gotten it wrong. Terribly, catastrophically, wrong. “Please, Father. You don’t--”

But his father seemed to consider the matter resolved. Nodding to Lord and Lady Coradine, he excused himself. “I’m certain that the four of you can sort out any remaining details. I was up late last night and need my sleep.”

After his father left, Lord and Lady Coradine each spoke to Kythos earnestly. Lord Coradine, whose family had greatly increased their wealth by entering the spice trade, gave Kythos a quick summary of the duties he would assume after his marriage, overseeing the operations of a distant saffron plantation. Lady Coradine extolled her daughter, assuring Kythos that Genevra would be able to manage his household, win him friends and allies with her charm, and direct the education of his children -- which, she added with a sly wink, there would be plenty of if Genevra inherited her mother’s fruitfulness. Kythos barely heard a word of it. His brain kept smacking up against the idea of marriage, like a drunkard walking into the same wall over and over again.

Finally, murmuring something to each other about leaving the young people alone to get acquainted, Lord and Lady Coradine went outside to take a walk about the estate. As soon as they’d shut the front door, Kythos turned to Genevra. “By the gods! What just happened?”

Genevra, who had said nothing during the speeches given by her parents, continued to look at the ground. “Is that how you intend to begin our marriage, my future husband? By swearing at me?”

“I--”

“Or perhaps you, like that demonic bird of yours, have mistaken me for something other than your bride.” Genevra raised her head, and her eyes flashed with the same fiery spirit she’d displayed when demanding the return of her necklace. “Tell me this, Kythos. Do you imagine that you’re marrying a rat? Or some type of large weasel?”

Taken aback, Kythos started to stammer out an apology. But Genevra’s lips curled upward and he realized that she was just teasing him, exacting her revenge for the way he’d mocked her at Lord Bothain’s party. Slowly, he mirrored her smile. Then they both burst out laughing, dispelling the tension between them.

“Alright,” Kythos conceded as he sat down beside her on the loveseat. “I suppose deserved that. But you have to admit, the situation does warrant a little swearing.”

“Does it?”

Kythos held out his open hands palms up, demonstrating his lack of comprehension with their emptiness. “I thought you wanted me punished for my rude behavior. How did we end up engaged to be married?”

“It’s true that my parents came here to demand an apology.” Leaning forward, Genevra adjusted her skirts and Kythos caught a glimpse of an ankle so delicate that it could belong to a porcelain doll. Then she dropped the frothy pink lace back down, leaving Kythos wondering if she’d given him the peek deliberately. “Except, when they started talking to your father, one thing led to another. Your father is a very persuasive man.”

“But why? Why would any family want me? And don’t tell me that it’s because of my potential. No one believes I have potential for anything except maybe causing a scandal.”

“Well, my father doesn’t think you’re a complete fool, or he wouldn’t let you anywhere near his spice trade.” Genevra shrugged. “But you’re right -- there are other reasons. Poverty doesn’t make your bloodline any less noble. And I’m the youngest of nine children, five of them daughters, so my older siblings have already gotten most of the good stuff. A saffron plantation out in the middle of nowhere isn’t the most enticing dowry.”

Kythos considered that. His immediate reaction to the proposed marriage had been shock and disbelief. But, maybe, given the circumstances, it wasn’t such a bad solution. After all, what were his other options? Staying here, on his father’s estate, until he either went mad or starved to death? Depending on Lord Bothain’s continued sexual interest in him? Those weren’t exactly a profusion of prize-winning choices. Anyway, after talking to Genevra, Kythos decided that he rather liked her. He could envision them becoming friends. And marrying into her family would give him the security he’d spent such long years struggling for.

But, deep inside his heart, something gnawed at him. Something told him that this was not the path he was destined to follow.

“How do you feel about it?” he asked Genevra. “Marrying someone you don’t even know?”

“You’re handsome, in a sharp sort of way. Maybe I have a taste for young demons.” Again, Genevra laughed, rather prettily, like droplets of water falling on tiny bells. “And it would be nice if our children inherited your emerald eyes. Also, I imagine that you might be understanding about...certain things.”

“Certain things?”

“I already have a lover,” Genevra admitted, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. “One of my mother’s maids. But once you and I are married, it should be easy enough to have her transferred to our household.”

“Uh huh,” Kythos mumbled, surprised and more than a little impressed. “I guess that’s alright. As it happens, I’m a bit involved with someone else too.”

“Getting your ass fucked by Lord Bothain?”

Kythos’s eyebrows shot so far up that he could feel his eyelids stretch. “How did you know that?!”

“Servants talk.” Genevra fluttered her fingers against her thumb to pantomime a chattering mouth. “Anyway, we won’t go into this with any silly expectations about sexual fidelity. You’ll have your affairs, I’ll have mine, and maybe, in between, we’ll find time to make a few babies. Not a bad life.”

“Not a bad life,” Kythos agreed. But he couldn’t help thinking about his parents. Despite him being so young at the time, he’d heard the passion underlying even the most mundane things they said to each other. He’d witnessed the way their touches lingered, as if drawing apart required struggling against the natural attraction between their bodies. “It’s just that my mother and father married for love...”

“Yes. And everyone saw how well that worked out.”

True enough. If Kythos’s father hadn’t been so desperately in love with his wife, her death wouldn’t have come so close to destroying him. But did that make love something to avoid? In the end, did the inevitable pain outweigh the fleeting bliss? Or was it the other way around?

Before Kythos decided what to say, Genevra cocked her head as if she’d heard a noise. Then she looked at him. “Shut your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. My parents are coming back and we don’t have much time.”

Already worn out from dealing with the shock of his unexpected engagement, Kythos lacked enough resolve to argue with her. So he complied. Almost immediately, he heard a rustling of fabric, and then felt a small silk pouch being pressed into his hand.

“What--?” Kythos began, snapping his eyes open.

But Genevra cut him off with a sweep of her finger across her throat. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”

Just then, Lord and Lady Coradine stepped into the parlor. Lingering only long enough to bestow a few more bits of advice on Kythos, they soon bid him farewell and then departed with their daughter.

As he overheard their carriage clattering away, Kythos couldn’t help but keep staring at the pouch Genevra had given him. Finally, he loosened its drawstrings and dumped its contents onto the palm of his hand. To his amazement, he found himself holding his house key, the one he’d lost on the night of Lord Bothain’s party. Genevra must have found it. But if that was the case, why all the secrecy? Then Kythos remembered how close Genevra had gotten to him when she snatched back her necklace. Could she have taken the key from his coat pocket?

In dire need of some solitude to think, Kythos went to the stable and saddled his horse. Leading the animal outside, he called for Acca. Only a moment passed before he heard her answering “Kak!” Just another moment later, she appeared, silhouetted against the sky overhead, reeling and diving in a way that not even the most skilled human acrobats could ever hope to emulate. “Showoff,” Kythos muttered with a smile. Then he swung himself up onto his horse and rode from his family estate.

His destination lay well beyond the outskirts of Deorwine -- a secluded place where his mother used to bring Kythos and his father. Now, when Kythos wanted to get away from everything, he came alone. A nearly forgotten forest path twisted through patches of ferns, sometimes hiding beneath the occasional fallen tree, until it eventually arrived at a grassy hilltop clearing. After riding beyond the last thicket, Kythos dismounted. Raspberries, in brilliant shades of claret, hung ripened on thorny bushes at the edge of the woods. Kythos got to them first, but his horse immediately joined him, plucking the tiny fruits with its nimble lips and then greedily chomping them down. Racing to get his fair share, Kythos harvested berries as fast as he could. After he’d gathered as many as his hands would hold, he slumped in the shade of a nearby tree to eat them.

Uninterested in berries, Acca circled above the meadow. Soon, she swooped low, flushing several small birds from the tall grass. As they rose up in all directions, she looped over and around into a dive that struck one out of the air. While the bird fell, she swung about, and then snatched it from the ground, carrying it up into the branches of a tree close by. Watching her rip bloody morsels from its body, Kythos slid his hand into his coat pocket and fingered the small bone she’d fetched for him. Effrem had said it would bring him luck. And if he ever needed luck, he needed it now.

“Well,” Kythos began, addressing Acca. “This certainly is an interesting situation. I’m engaged to be married. I’m having fantastic sex. And I think I’m falling in love. My life would be perfect...if only those three statements didn’t apply to three entirely different people.”

“Kak?” Acca asked, before rending another scrap of flesh from the bird’s carcass.

Kythos shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just enjoy the moment. One way or another, everything is about to change.”

Soothed by the balmy afternoon, Kythos lay back against the trunk of the tree that shaded him, soon drifting off to sleep. While he dozed, a strange jumble of images tumbled through his mind. He dreamed that he was back home in the parlor, with Effrem sitting beside him on the loveseat, wearing Genevra’s frothy pink gown. He dreamed that Lord Bothain, dressed as a priest, performed a marriage ceremony for the two of them, while holding a staff decorated with teeth and bones. He dreamed of lying with Effrem on their wedding night, pressing hot kisses against his lover’s warm skin, moonlight pouring over them like holy water anointing their union. “I love you,” they vowed to each other. “We’ll always be together. Nothing can tear us apart.” Kythos wanted to savor that bliss forever. But as he gradually awoke, the memories of his dreams receded, until he was left with nothing except a yearning so jagged that it ached, as if he’d glimpsed something of unimaginable beauty and then gone blind.

When Kythos opened his eyes, he discovered that sunset had already smeared the sky with delicate pink hues like the inside of a seashell. Hastily, he picked a few more raspberries and shoved them into his mouth. Then he mounted his horse and rode back home.

As he hurried from the stable to the garden, Kythos anticipated telling Effrem about the arranged marriage and getting his friend’s advice. But as he approached their usual meeting place by the dead cherry tree, he choked on the words forming inside his throat. Effrem wasn’t alone. A little girl, about five years old, stood beside him. And when she spotted Kythos, she skipped toward him with a joyful shout.

“Kythie!”

Kythos halted, startled by his childhood nickname. No one had called him that in years. The girl looked puzzled too. She stopped a few steps away and stared up at him with wide eyes. “Kythie? You’ve gotten so big!”

“Have I?” Kythos squinted at the girl, studying her bright red hair and freckled face. As a child, he’d never had many friends, preferring to play his games in solitude. But there had been a few exceptions. The earliest he remembered at all clearly happened when his explorations brought him to the remains of a nearby farmhouse, recently destroyed by a fire. As he poked through the ashes, collecting fragments of smashed pottery and lumps of melted glass, a girl about his own age joined him. She told him stories about the family that used to live there and showed him where in the rubble to find an elven arrowhead made of bone. For two weeks, he went back there to talk with her. And then one day she was gone. Straining his memory, Kythos struggled to recall what she looked like. Had she been a little girl with bright red hair and freckles?

“Haidee?” he ventured.

“You remember!” Grinning with delight, Haidee leapt forward and wrapped her arms around Kythos’s legs. But, instead of embracing him, she passed right through his flesh like mist.

A cry of terror escaped Kythos. Lurching backward, he staggered and fell on his butt. His clumsiness obviously amused Haidee, who clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh, Kythie! You’re so funny.”

“What--? What are--?”

Smiling, Effrem joined them. “She’s a ghost.”

Pity displaced Kythos’s fear. He’d always wondered why Haidee never returned after those two weeks. What a cruel, wicked world, to take the life of someone so young. “How did she--?”

“She died in a fire. About a month before the two of you met.”

Kythos’s jaw dropped. He could only sit gawking at Haidee as she darted about the garden chasing after a large moth. The way it repeatedly fluttered through her insubstantial hands only seemed to increase her enjoyment of the game. “But I saw her!”

“Yes. You saw her. Just like you’re seeing her now. Just like you saw the spirit that murdered your mother,” Effrem explained earnestly, crouching down and meeting Kythos’s gaze. “I’m sorry that this is such a shock. I thought things might be easier if I summoned someone you already knew. Someone you liked.”

“People don’t -- they don’t see ghosts.”

“Most people don’t, no. You do. I’m still not quite sure why, but for you, the veil between the living and the dead occasionally lifts. I realized that as soon as you told me about the thing you saw when your mother died.”

“Then I really did see something?” Awe and horror mingled in Kythos’s voice. “What was it?”

“A ravjath. The strongest of all evil spirits. They care about nothing except their quest to regain physical form. In order to fuel it, they devour the life essence of mortals, killing their victims without remorse.”

“That’s what...?” Kythos got up from where he’d fallen and Effrem rose with him. “That’s what happened to my mother?”

Effrem lowered his eyes. “Usually only magical beings like elves are very susceptible to their attacks. But, yes. That must have been what happened to your mother.”

Kythos wanted to ask more but, by then, the moth had flitted away and Haidee rejoined them. “You helped me leave,” she told Kythos, apparently more interested in their connection than in ravjaths. “That’s why I came back when Effrem asked me. So I could help you.”

The weight of this latest revelation on top of everything else finally strained Kythos’s mind to the verge of collapse. He could barely stumble along, uttering the first words that came into his head, like an actor trying to get through a play he’d read only in a dream. “I helped you do what?”

“You helped me leave. After the fire, I was scared, and I didn’t want to go. I thought that if I stayed, my parents would come back for me. But they didn’t come back. I was all alone, until you came. You talked to me. Found my elvish arrowhead. After awhile, I felt brave enough to go.”

“She passed on into the afterlife,” Effrem elaborated.

Suddenly, Kythos understood what Effrem had told him in Lord Bothain’s bathhouse. The ones that you helped haven’t forgotten. “She wasn’t the only ghost I saw, was she?”

“There were others,” Effrem confirmed. “Until the death of your mother. Somehow, confronting the ravjath, combined with your father’s insistence that you hadn’t seen anything, hindered your abilities. But now that you’ve grown into maturity, your powers have returned.”

Groaning, Kythos buried his face in his hands. He supposed that he should feel triumphant. After all, he’d been right and his father had been wrong. Some evil thing really did kill his mother. But gloating was the last thing Kythos felt like doing. “This is madness.”

“No. It’s a miracle.”

“It is not!” Aggravated by Effrem’s docile faith in divine explanations, Kythos looked up and lashed out at him. “What gives you the audacity to say that? What makes you think you know so much about it?”

“Spirit is one of the three realms that Lilis has dominion over. She made sure I learned my lessons well.”

Kythos gazed at Effrem, silently imploring him to say something, anything, that would make the world become normal again. But there was no instant remedy in Effrem’s auburn eyes. Only compassion.

“I don’t know everything,” Effrem admitted. “But I know a little. I know that Lilis sent me to help you. I know that if we try, if we work together, we can find out more about your talents. More importantly, maybe we can discover why you have them. If Lilis gave you these gifts, it must have been for a purpose. Nothing happens without a reason.”

Never, in his entire life, had Kythos ever felt less like things happened for any reason at all. But before he could disagree with Effrem, Haidee interrupted.

“Kythie! Look at me!”

Turning toward Haidee’s voice, Kythos saw her standing in the pond that surrounded his mother’s tomb. No, not standing in it -- the soles of her feet rested on the water’s surface without causing even a single ripple. Holding her arms out to her sides, she lifted one leg behind her, then began gliding around the pond. “Whee! It’s like sliding on ice!”

Kythos’s head sank back into his hands. Where, to his weary relief, he saw nothing but darkness.