‘You were,’ replied the mistress with a grin, ‘but I thought this was worth waking you over. Gilwyn is here, White-Eye.’
The girl shook off her fog and sat up. ‘Gilwyn?’
‘I’m here,’ said Gilwyn, rushing to her side. He knelt down beside her bed. ‘White-Eye, I’m right here.’
Her hand reached out. Finding his face, she sighed. ‘Gilwyn. .’
‘You’re all right,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Minikin told me you’re all right now.’
White-Eye’s brow contorted. ‘I’m blind, Gilwyn. Faralok is gone. I cannot see!’
‘Hush, don’t be afraid,’ said Gilwyn. ‘You’re one of us — an Inhuman. You’ll see again, don’t worry.’
As he spoke Minikin seized his arm. She shook her head at him in warning. Puzzled, Gilwyn tried to say something else to reassure his beloved.
‘You’re safe now,’ he told her, the only words that came to mind. ‘Nothing else will happen to you.’
‘And you are safe,’ said White-Eye with relief. ‘Gilwyn, I was afraid for you. I heard you screaming. It was so real, I did not know it was a dream. .’
‘But it was a dream,’ said Gilwyn. He touched her hair and brushed it out of her sightless eyes. ‘All just a dream. Nothing happened; I’m safe.’
Did she know that it was Kahldris’ doing? Gilwyn wondered how much Minikin had told her. And why did Minikin think she would not see again? He wished suddenly that he had given the mistress more time to explain, and that he hadn’t been in such a hurry to see White-Eye.
‘Gilwyn, sit with her a while,’ Minikin suggested. ‘The two of you should be alone. Are you hungry? I can have food brought here.’
‘White-Eye? Are you hungry?’ asked Gilwyn.
The girl grimaced. ‘No, no food.’
‘I’m not hungry, either,’ said Gilwyn.
‘Neither of you has eaten all day,’ chided Minikin. ‘You must have food. I’ll send some to you later.’
She left them, closing the door behind her, shutting out all the light but the candle in its sad dish. Gilwyn sat down on the chest next to the bed. Seeing White-Eye so enfeebled made his guilt more unbearable. She was still beautiful, though, even in a sick bed. She had always been able to melt his heart.
‘White-Eye,’ he asked, ‘why is it so dark in here?’
‘The light hurts me,’ she replied. ‘That is how it is for me without Faralok — even this much light pains me.’
‘So you can see the light?’
‘That is all I can see, Gilwyn. Just brightness. Not you, not anything beautiful. Just pain.’
Gilwyn nodded, not knowing what to say. Even with her Akari, light had been painful to her. With Faralok’s help she had been able to see in the dark and control the worst of the pain. Now that was over.
‘White-Eye, what happened to Faralok? I don’t understand. Minikin told me you lost him, but. .’ He shrugged. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I do not know,’ White-Eye admitted. ‘I was in a state, Gilwyn. Like a waking dream. And when I awakened I was in the desert, and the sun was coming up and-’
‘No, stop,’ said Gilwyn. ‘It’s all right. I don’t want you to keep thinking about it. But Faralok — he’s already dead. I mean, he’s an Akari. He can’t just be gone. Can he?’
White-Eye blinked helplessly. ‘I do not know,’ she said. ‘I am alone now. I can see nothing. I can’t hear Faralok’s voice, or see him in my mind. I’m all alone.’
She had been a strong girl, always. Gilwyn had seen her break down only once, when her father died. Now, though, she looked on the verge of tears.
‘You are not alone,’ he hurried to say. ‘I’m here, White-Eye, and so is Minikin and all the Inhumans. You can never be alone, not while you are one of us.’
‘But I am one of you no longer! I have no Akari, Gilwyn.’
‘You have me,’ Gilwyn stressed. ‘You don’t need an Akari. I’ll protect you.’
At last the girl began to sob. ‘You cannot protect me. You cannot be my eyes.’ She put a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. ‘You do not know how empty I am, Gilwyn. It is all blackness. I will never see you again.’
‘No, you can have another Akari,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Like Meriel. She changed her Akari. So can you.’
‘It cannot be,’ said White-Eye. ‘Minikin has said so.’
‘What? Why?’
White-Eye clenched her fists. ‘Because of the violence done to me. Because of the way I lost Faralok. My mind — my brain — the Akari link has been broken. Oh, you cannot understand this! No one can. I am doomed, Gilwyn. Doomed to darkness!’
A desperate chill blew Gilwyn’s soul. White-Eye was so innocent, so purely kind, and yet the monster known as Kahldris had done this horror to her.
To get to me? he wondered. It seemed impossible, yet Minikin was so sure. .
‘I’ll help you,’ he told her then. ‘I’ll make this right, White-Eye, I promise.’
White-Eye reined in her tears. With her hand she found him, smiling bravely. ‘You are my sweet one,’ she told him, ‘but you cannot be my eyes, Gilwyn. That is over for me.’
‘No,’ said Gilwyn bitterly. ‘I will make it right, White-Eye. I don’t know how, but I will.’
‘No one can make it so, Gilwyn. No one can make me see the stars again.’
‘I can!’ said Gilwyn, springing from his seat. ‘White-Eye, you’re not alone! You have to let me prove that.’ He looked around the dim room, then realised her garments were in the chest. Flinging open the lid, he found a dressing robe and pulled it out. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘let me help you up.’
‘What?’
‘Come on, I want to show you something.’
‘Gilwyn, no. .’
‘Yes, you have to get out of bed,’ Gilwyn insisted. ‘I won’t let you stay in this room forever. I have your robe. I’ll help you put it on.’
‘This is silly, Gilwyn. I cannot see. .’
Determined to ignore her, Gilwyn took her hands and gently pulled her out of bed. She tottered unsteadily on her feet.
‘Good. Now just stay still,’ said Gilwyn. ‘Hold out your arms.’
Amazingly, she did so. Gilwyn carefully slipped on her robe. It wasn’t very cool out, thankfully, but he knew she would also need shoes. These he found beneath her bed.
‘Now lift up your feet,’ he told her, ready with her footwear.
‘Where are we going?’ White-Eye insisted.
‘Just trust me,’ was all he would say. ‘Come on, feet up.’
Though exasperated, White-Eye complied, letting Gilwyn slip on her shoes. When he was done she stood there, looking around without seeing, her expression stricken.
‘Gilwyn, I am afraid.’
Gilwyn put his arm around her. ‘Don’t be,’ he assured her. ‘Just hold on and let me take you.’
‘Take me where?’
‘Hold on, now,’ he cautioned, then led her toward the door. ‘I’m going to show you something.’
White-Eye shuffled toward the door unsteadily. Careful not to startle her, Gilwyn held her very close. The idea he had gotten might have been crazy, but it had seized him and made him determined. Outside, they found the hallway empty. Relieved, Gilwyn kept her moving forward.
‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
White-Eye shrugged at the question. ‘Confused. It’s hard to walk.’
‘You’re doing fine. Just stay with me. .’
Eventually, White-Eye’s steps became more sure. As they moved through the torchlit hall she began to move as if she had done this a thousand times — which of course she had. A little grin crept onto Gilwyn’s face. She didn’t know it yet, but they were coming to the staircase.
‘Good,’ he said with encouragement. ‘Now stop here a moment. We’re going up.’
‘Up?’
‘Up the stairs.’
‘Gilwyn, no. .’
‘You can do it — it’s just like always. Just hold on to me.’
‘I’ll fall!’
‘You won’t; I won’t let you.’ Gilwyn tucked his arm under hers. ‘Ready?’
White-Eye took the first cautious tread. ‘Why are we going up?’
‘To see the stars,’ said Gilwyn.
‘The stars?’ She hesitated, then stepped higher. ‘I can’t see them any more.’