Anne Bishop - Bridge of Dreams

No, the guild believing she wasn’t a demon wouldn’t keep Zhahar and Sholeh safe. By the triple stars, they had tried to hold on long enough build a life here. Hadn’t they tried?

“Got you a ticket on a passenger coach,” Primo said. “It leaves in the morning.”

“Going where?” Zeela asked, feeling weighed down by emotions.

“Going to the heart of Vision.” He leaned toward her. “Go to The Temples if you can find them. Talk to some of the Shamans there.”

“I could talk to the Shamans who come around here.”

“No, girl. You and your sisters need to be somewhere else.” Primo leaned back. “I do have a couple of things for you.” He picked up a small bag from his desk and handed it to her. “Everyone tossed in a coin from his last job. Travel money.”

“You gave me my pay from my last assignment.”

“I know. This is from your brethren. Our way of wishing you good fortune on your journey. Then there is this.” He picked up the brass badge that was worn by a journeyman Knife. “In the ordinary way of things, I would have waited a couple more months for this, had you working with someone a while longer. But you’ve earned it. Any First in the city will consider your credentials if you want to keep training and working with the guild. Even if you don’t, that badge would help you get guard work.”

“Thank you.” She took the badge—and swallowed tears.

Primo stood. “You’ll find your place.” He looked a little uncomfortable. “I’ll take it as a kindness if you let me know where you settle.”

She stood too. “I’ll do that.” She lifted the ticket, the bag of coins, and the badge. “Thank you for this.”

He offered his hand—something he rarely did. She gripped that hand, then stepped back.

=Aren’t either of you going to say anything?= she asked when she reached their lodgings. =I did my best.=

*We all did,* Zhahar replied. *But he’s right, Zeela. It’s time for us to move on.* An odd note came into Zhahar’s voice as she whispered, *It is time.*

=Do you think our relocating to another part of Vision will make any difference?=

*Primo thinks it will. And if we go to The Temples, we can ask for Shaman Danyal. Maybe he could help us, or at least give us advice, based on knowing we’re a Tryad. We have to hope it will make a difference.*

=Why?=

That odd note came into Zhahar’s voice again. *If we don’t hope, how can we change anything?*

Zeela had no answer, so she and Zhahar took turns packing up their things. They didn’t ask Sholeh about her books. They simply packed them, accepting the sore muscles that would come from hauling the extra weight. The books were as close to life as Sholeh had seen lately. They couldn’t ask her to leave even one behind—especially when they were afraid they were losing her.

They reached the bazaar at the center of Vision after a day’s travel. Instead of pushing on to find The Temples, they had to take a room when Zeela suddenly became dizzy and couldn’t seem to hold on to her thoughts. That’s when Zhahar realized that Sholeh had been submerged for so many days that she and Zeela had ignored the necessity of regular meals. Now Sholeh’s aspect was physically out of balance to such a degree that Zhahar considered what would happen to them if she had to take Sholeh and Zeela to a clinic.

She got them to the room and went out again for food, hoping that she would get back before Sholeh’s disorientation began to show in her too.

She bought flatbread filled with soft cheese, dates, and chopped nuts; a ball of brown rice carried in a paper shaped like a flower; and a stick of cooked meat. Back in the room, she took a mouthful of each type of food, eating slowly. Then she prodded Zeela to come into view and do the same thing. Once Zeela felt steadier, the two of them managed to get Sholeh into view—and forced her to stay there until she took a bite of each kind of food and drank a glass of water.

Throughout that evening, Zhahar forced the rotation until the food was gone. By then, Zeela was exhausted but back to normal, and Sholeh, while sounding frail, was lucid again.

The next morning, Zhahar went out to the food stalls for another flatbread. Once she was back inside, she divided the flatbread into three pieces. When Sholeh resisted, Zhahar became insistent.

*We’re going to find The Temples today,* she said. *But not until we’ve all eaten and washed up.*

::I don’t have to wash,:: Sholeh said faintly. ::No one is going to see me.::

=You still have to wash,= Zeela said. =It’s been too many days since you had a full bath.=

*Which we can’t do today,* Zhahar broke in when she felt Sholeh start to protest. *The room has only a sink and a toilet, so we’re all taking sponge baths.*

They finished up so late in the morning they had to take all their bags with them or pay for the use of the room for another day. After wandering the bazaar for a couple of hours, Zhahar wished they’d kept the room.

=The entrance is supposed to be here,= Zeela snarled. =At least, this is the direction everyone we asked pointed to.=

In the city of Vision, you can find only what you can see , Zhahar thought. So who would be able to see The Temples?

She lugged their bags into an open space between two stalls. *Be quiet for a minute. Let me try something.*

Holding on to the straps of her bags, she closed her eyes and thought of Danyal walking the Asylum grounds, holding a wind chime because it was the sound of joy.

The wind chime, singing in the air and lifting the heart.

She opened her eyes and looked at the archway between the stalls. THE TEMPLES was carved into the arch.

*Found it,* she whispered. Settling the bags over her shoulders as best she could, she crossed into the part of Vision that belonged to the Shamans.

She paused in front of the Temple of Sorrow, then spotted a figure in a wheat-colored robe standing outside another building farther down the road.

“Good day to you,” Zhahar called. “Could you help me?”

The person—a woman, judging by the shape of the face—smiled and lifted her hands as if to say “Maybe” or “I don’t know.”

“Do you understand me?”

A nod.

“Can you speak?”

Fingers touched the material covering her throat, followed by a head shake.

“Oh.” Zhahar caught her lower lip between her teeth. The woman did understand her, so if she phrased her questions carefully, she might still get answers. “I need help. I came to The Temples for guidance.”

The woman spread her arms wide, as if to say there was help and guidance all around them.

“Yes, there are many Shamans here, but I was looking for Shaman Danyal. Do you know him?”

A nod.

“Is he here?”

Head shake.

Zhahar sighed. Could she trust another Shaman with the secret of what she was?

The woman pointed to her own eye, then patted her chest.

When Zhahar said nothing, the woman did it again.

::Could I see?:: Sholeh asked.

Zhahar hesitated. *It would be hard to explain your coming into view.*

::I just need to be close enough to the surface.::

The woman made the two gestures again.

=Eye and chest?= Zeela suggested.

::No,:: Sholeh replied. ::Seeing and heart. I think.::

“Seeing and heart?” Zhahar asked.

Nodding, the woman raised two fingers and brought them closer together.

::Seeing heart,:: Sholeh said.

When Zhahar repeated the words, the woman’s smile widened—and Zhahar understood.

“Shaman Danyal is at a place called Seeing Heart? Do you know where it is?”

More hand gestures, patiently repeated over and over.