Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

The only difficulty was the night. As the sun was setting Rhapsody would look over her shoulder to see the Lord or Lady nodding, indicating it was time. She had chosen the schedule herself; it allowed her the chance to sing her evening vespers, and she knew that the Lady, hovering in robes of sky-blue, kissed each child to sleep at the ending of the procedure, so it made sense to her to do it then. Her nights had long been haunted by disturbing dreams, anyway; they could hardly be made worse by this, she had reasoned.

She was wrong.

There was no becoming accustomed to it. The pain was excruciating, causing her to scream in agony, crying out freely in the knowledge that she could not be heard in the round building that swallowed all sound.

In the beginning she had clung to the edges of the cot, grasping until her fingers bled, desperately seeking some way to lessen the suffering. It was no use. Each jab of the needle felt as if it tore a piece of the flesh from her chest, searing her heart and sending it into spasms of pain the likes of which she had never imagined, let alone felt. It was a final communion with Ashe, in a way; at last she understood fully the agony he had carried..

She tried to concentrate on the children, on the knowledge that, because of her agony, they felt nothing, but that only worked for a moment once the procedure had begun. Finally she gave in to the futility of it all and accepted that she could not be stoic or brave; she was meant to suffer this in their stead. She had agreed to willingly. As she lay on the floor between each procedure, having convulsed off the cot in her misery, she comforted herself with the awareness that each child was sleeping in peace because of this. It gave her what little will she could muster to go on.

After one particularly brutal session, when she lay sobbing on the floor, trying to catch her breath, the Lady Rowan entered the room and drew Rhapsody into her arms. She ran her warm hands over the golden hair and as she did, the pain subsided along with the sobs. She turned the Singer’s tearstained face up to her own and looked deeply into her eyes.

“They are stronger now, and older. Aria is no longer a baby, and Quan Li is almost a woman. Some of them can bear this on their own. Why don’t you let them?”

Rhapsody shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice catching in the back of her throat. “I’m all right.”

The Lady regarded her seriously. “You are holding something back from me. What is it?”

Rhapsody looked away, only to have the warm fingers turn her face back again. .

“Tell me,” the Lady said. Rhapsody knew the Lady already had the answer, and was waiting for her to admit it to herself. She met the Lady’s eyes.

“My mother,” she said quietly.

“What of her?”

“I know now what she felt, how she suffered when I left. It was like a piece of her heart had been taken; in a way I believe I am atoning for it.”

The Lady touched her face tenderly. “You are carrying great pain about your mother in your heart, are you not?”

Rhapsody looked down. “Yes.” She could feel the warmth of the smile above her.

“For the equivalent of three years now you have borne the physical pain for these children as a mother would because the thought of them in pain was worse for you. How do you think your own mother feels, knowing her child carries so much unnecessary pain on her behalf?”

Rhapsody’s eyes met the sky-blue ones instantly; realization came more slowly. When it did, the Lady Rowan took her hand.

“My guilt about her is hurting her more.”

The Lady smiled. “Let yourself heal, child; otherwise your mother never will.”

Chat night, as she slept in the solid darkness of her room, the Lady opened her door and came in, carrying a small scented candle wound with fragrant wood. Rhapsody opened her eyes, but the Lady merely shook her head and placed the candle holder on the table beside her bed. She bent over the sleeping Singer and kissed her forehead gently, then left as quietly as she came.

After a moment the door opened again. Rhapsody sat up in surprise as the young woman came in, smiling, and sat down in the chair, putting her feet up on the bed. She pulled out a long, thin knife and began a game of mumblety-peg, stabbing agilely between her fingers with it as they rested on her knee.

“Hi, Rhaps,” Jo said.

For a moment Rhapsody could only clutch at the bedclothes, struggling to awaken but finding that the sweet, fragrant smoke of the candle weighed heavily on her eyelids. Finally she mustered enough strength to rise and reach out toward her sister’s knee.

“Don’t,” Jo said pleasantly, not looking up from her game of mumblety-peg. Rhapsody sat quickly back on the bed, her head suddenly light and a queasy sensation of mixed joy and shock filling her stomach.

“Is it really you, Jo?” she asked. Her voice trembled; she didn’t recognize the sound of it through the thickness of the haze.

“Of course not,” Jo replied, still intent on her game. “What you see is only what your memory tells you.” She looked up and met Rhapsody’s eyes for the first time. “But my love is with you. You needed to see me, so I came, at least a little.”

Rhapsody nodded as if she understood, but she didn’t. “You’re here, then? In the realm of the Rowans? Between the worlds?”

Jo shook her head. “No. I’m in the Afterlife. But I’ll be here when you need me to be, Rhaps. It’s the least I can do, after all you did for me.”

Rhapsody rubbed her head foggily. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Jo slid the dirk back into her boot, leaned back in the chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You won’t. And I can’t explain it to you, either. It’s beyond your comprehension now.” A wry smile played on her lips. “Funny, isn’t that? In life it was always you that tried to explain things I didn’t understand to me.”

“Tell me of the Afterlife, Jo,” Rhapsody said, choking on the words. “I can’t. Well, I can, but you won’t understand. You can’t. You have to have passed through the Gate of Life to know. Here, in this place, you can only see a little of what has passed through, because this is a place of transition. Now you can only know the things you knew on your side of the Veil of Joy. Once you pass through the Gate, you’ll know everything. I’m sorry, Rhaps. I wish I could make you understand.”

“Are you happy, Jo?”

Her sister smiled. “I’m content.”

“But not happy?”

“'Happy’ is a word from your side of the gate. It is only part of contentment. You can’t understand, so if it makes you feel better, believe that I am happy. It’s as true as anything else.”

“I want you to be happy, Jo. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

The image of her sister laid the dirk aside and regarded her thoughtfully.

“Now, if you want me to be happy, you can’t feel guilty; that is something I can feel as well. What you did to me, Rhaps, was give me a chance to live forever.

“You are the first person that I ever knew that loved me. That’s the key, you know—it’s the connections that we make in life that allow us to know love in the Afterlife. You told me my mother loved me, and you were right; she does. You helped me to find her beyond the Gate because of it.”

Jo slid the knife back into her boot and stood.

“I have to go. Don’t,” she said as Rhapsody struggled to sit up again. “Keep working with those kids, Rhaps. You joke about being their grandmother, but the ties on them in the Afterlife go both ways, if you know what I mean. What you’re doing is cutting the chains that could drag them in death to the Vault of the Underworld. You know I have no great fondness for kids, but nobody deserves that. Bye.”