‘I’m not Battu,’ said Losara, as if he’d read her thoughts. Maybe he had? ‘I don’t kill people because I’m bored, or roast the cook who ruins my favourite dish. Have you ever heard of me doing anything like that?’
Lalenda stared, uncertain of what to make of this calmly expressed but seemingly heartfelt outburst. ‘No, master,’ she said.
‘I do not mean you harm, Lalenda, please believe me. Stay if you wish. Go if you wish.’
She tried to seem, if not relaxed, then less afraid than she was. ‘I will stay, master,’ she said.
Losara was intensely aware of her standing so close, of the nervous intake of her breath. She hadn’t run away this time, but he did not believe that she really wanted to remain. Now that she had, he found he didn’t know what to say. There was a lot, of course, that he’d never told anyone, but they weren’t thoughts to be shared with a frightened stranger. His mind raced over the castle chat he’d surreptitiously witnessed and grabbed the first thread that came to him.
‘Have you …heard any of the washroom rumours?’ he asked.
Lalenda gave him an odd look. ‘No, my lord.’
Losara collected his thoughts. ‘I heard Gedri soaked Counsellor Tysek’s favourite underclothes too long, and sent them back too small. Apparently Tysek looked uncomfortable all day.’
He glanced at Lalenda and she quickly averted her eyes. She seemed confused by what reaction she was supposed to have, and Losara was confused too. When he’d heard the goblins in the corridor tell the story, they’d thought it was hilarious.
‘Will he be punished?’ Lalenda asked hesitantly.
‘Who?’
‘Gedri.’
Losara sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the breeze on his lids. ‘I didn’t think it was very funny either,’ he said.
Some moments passed and she worried that she had offended him.
‘I often enjoy silence,’ he said, ‘but I’ve never known it to be so uncomfortable.’
‘My lord?’
‘What do you think of silence, Lalenda?’
‘Oh,’ said Lalenda, her brow creasing. ‘I …my part of the castle is very quiet, so if there’s a noise it will usually startle …Silence is a companion you didn’t know you had until it’s broken …’ She was rambling and she realised it. She tried to clamp down on her tongue, but it kept starting sentences she had to finish. ‘Most of my companions are books, master, and they don’t need sound to speak.’ She managed to stop, and looked horrified with herself.
Losara raised an eyebrow. ‘Books don’t need sound to speak?’ he echoed.
‘I’m sorry, master, it was a stupid thing to say.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
He’s so calm , Lalenda thought suddenly. She hadn’t seen it before as she was so frightened, but now, for a moment, she did. His voice was so even, his gaze so constant. The wind rustled the fine threads of his hair, and the folds of his cloak flapped about him, but he himself was as still as a statue. She felt as if it was the first time she’d ever truly seen him.
‘I like books also,’ he said. ‘Though I don’t read as many as I should. Always been a slow reader. Think too much as I go, you see.’
‘I’ve read many, master. A word can paint a thousand pictures. And it’s my only way to leave the castle.’ On making this statement, she began to tremble. ‘Forgive me, I don’t know why I said that.’
‘Probably because it is true,’ said Losara.
‘Master?’
‘Heron tells me you’ve been kept a prisoner here since you were a little girl. I’m sure you hate it utterly.’
She was astonished by his words.
‘I have also been here for as long as I remember,’ he continued. ‘Though I am luckier than you. I can go into the dream and visit other places, even if they are muted and cannot be touched. I suppose your books have the same effect. Worlds created insubstantial; a look through a window at other people’s lives. Yes, we have that in common, it seems.’
Lalenda could not reconcile her assumptions of this man with the way he appeared to her now. Was he toying with her, or was this really him?
‘While we’re talking,’ Losara said, ‘there’s something I’d like to ask you, you being the one who foresaw my birth. Will you tell me what you saw?’
Lalenda shifted her feet. If there was one thing she had no trouble with, it was remembering her vivid visions of prophecy, which stood out like lights in her dull past. If this was what her master wanted, this she could provide. She cleared her throat and spoke.
‘It was not a universal vision, lord, but a vision had by me alone. I see a wood of grey trees and, walking through it, a strong man with a beard. He is looking for a special herb that his wife wants him to find. She has warned him not to pluck the stems, as the plant will not recover, but only to take its tiny leaves. He finds the herb, and fumbles at the leaves with big fingers, being very careful.’ She paused, aware of the detail she was going into. ‘Do you wish me to be briefer, master?’
‘No.’
‘Er …yes, master. Eventually the man has collected enough and goes home to a hut in a clearing. Inside is his pregnant wife, asleep. He brews the herb in a tea, and strokes her hair to awaken her. She drinks the tea, which is supposed to nourish and strengthen the unborn child. The herb is potent with an ancient magic, the wild magic that still lingers about the wood. In the dream I know this, because the woman knows this. The next day the woman awakes to find her hair has turned blue. The man is beside himself with worry, but she is not as concerned as he. I awoke from the dream knowing I’d seen Whisperwood, and that the woman would surely give birth to a blue-haired boy. Battu sent Tyrellan forth the next day to fetch you.’
‘And a mage called Fazel,’ said Losara.
‘Yes, lord.’
Losara was silent a moment. ‘Sounds like they loved each other.’
‘Lord?’
‘My mother and father. You know, Lalenda, what you’ve just told me is the most I know of them. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said awkwardly.
‘Let me ask you another thing,’ said Losara. ‘You used the term “universal vision”? I have little understanding of the art.’
‘I shall explain as you wish, master. A universal prophecy is one that goes out to all prophets in the world. The foretelling of your birth was such a prophecy. That’s why it has been common knowledge for the last century. More common is a personal form of prophecy, which more closely reflects the life of the prophet herself, or those around her. I have been known to dream of what I would have for breakfast the next day.’
Losara chuckled, and Lalenda found herself inexplicably flushing with pleasure.
‘Occasionally,’ she went on, ‘we see greater events that others do not. So it was with your mother’s hair turning blue.’
‘A last question,’ said Losara, ‘and then I shall drop this subject, I promise.’
You need not promise anything to me, thought Lalenda.
‘You did not experience that first prophecy that heralded my birth, but do you know what it was? I have asked Heron and Battu, but they only know what the prophets said of the vision, not the vision itself.’
‘It has been described in various texts as the clashing of two armies, light and shadow. Under a setting sun they fight a great battle, a battle for the world. The vision closes on the victorious leader, who stands atop a hill with his sword raised high …and all that can be seen of him in the dying light is his long blue hair. The prophets knew that when a child with blue hair was born, he would be the one to defeat his enemy and so end the struggle between Fenvarrow and Kainordas.’