Proceed to Chapter 8
He knocked on the silvery door to the Wardrobe. Noone answered. Puzzled, he tried again. A few seconds later, the door creaked musically open, this time to the tune the minstrels had written for the Masters’ ceremony. A Moon-follower in the green of a student stood framed by the doorway, hands on her hips, a measuring tape wrapped around her untidy brown bun, from which flew dozens of incredibly tight corkscrew curls.
“No need to be impatient. We’re overwhelmed with work. Whadda you want?” she asked. “We’re busy here, you know. Do you have an appoi…” She caught sight of Lyss and stopped short, smiling. With a start, Lyss recognized Laurie amidst the cloud of curls and pins and thread. A former patient, Laurie had become Lyss’s personal bandage weaver, and friend. “Well, why didn’t you say it was you, dear? I couldn’t see you, thanks to that tall Shadow, there. How are you feeling? Here, I’ll help you: you must be a bit shaky on your feet after an entire week of Masteries.” Dugald moved to help Lyss, but Laurie’s former glare returned, taking in Brynn and Corl, as well. “We appreciate your help, sirs, but she has a fitting to be done now. Off with you!”
Lyss winked at the three. “She’s really not as fierce as she looks, right Laurie? Sweet as a de-clawed hellcat. Thank you, Shadow, and you, too, Brinn and Corl. There’s some rock-candy waiting for you at the Healers’ if you like it. You, too, Dugald: you’re never too old for sweets.”
“That’s enough, now. De-clawed hellcat, indeed! Hmmph.” Laurie smiled in spite of herself. “Go and get the candy, boys. Lyss makes the best rock candy in all of the Castle.”
Knowing a dismissal when they heard one, Dugald, Brinn, and Corl, turned to go, the younger two copying Dugald’s bow. Laurie waved a now-cheerful good-bye, then led Lyss into the chaos of the Wardrobe.
Inside was in even more disarray than usual. Wheels of satins and silks were piled waist high everywhere, and ribbons and lace were draped on anything from the curtains to the paintings on the walls. Wardrobe apprentices, students, and Masters, well known for their disorganization, were calm for once, however. Lyss suspected tranquilizers. In every nook and cranny, Moon-followers sat sewing elaborate ballgowns and embroidering jerkins and breeches. Cobblers pounded away at leather shoes and stitched delicate slippers, while weavers worked on cloaks and tablecloths. And as always, right in the middle of things sat Mum Elfrida.
Mum rose from her rocking chair, stabbing her needle into the shimmering silver embroidered sash she had been working on. Draping the cloth carefully over her chair, she reached out her arms. Lyss let go of Laurie’s supportive shoulder and walked into Mum Elfrida’s warm embrace. Lyss happily breathed in the scent of lavender and cloth dyes and cotton, reveling in the hug. “Oh my dear, darling Lyss,” Mum whispered.
When Mum finally released her, Lyss was surprised to see a tear dripping down the wardrobe mistress’s cheek. Mum hastily wiped it away, assuming her usual cheerful smile. “Eric! Laurie!” she cried. Laurie stared pointedly at her, until Mum blinked and said, “Sorry, Laurie, dear. I didn’t realize you were there. Eric! Where are you?”
A small, dark-haired man strolled casually up and bowed smartly. Lyss squinted: he looked slightly familiar. What did she know him from? With a start, she remembered the man who had called out measurements to the air during her first visit to the Wardrobe, and had since then become a symbol to Lyss of the frazzledness of Moon-followers. Now he waited patiently for Mum Elfrida’s instructions. Definitely tranquilizers, Lyss thought. Perhaps St. John’s Wort? No, something stronger…I’ll ask Mum later.
“Ah, Eric, there you are,” Mum smiled. “Could you fetch Lyss’s gown for me, please? Thank you. And Laurie, take Lyss to one of the fitting rooms. Just wait until you see it, Lyss dear!”
Lyss laughed and followed Laurie, weaving through the jumble of cloth bolts and spools. Alongside the far wall of the chamber glistened the sparkling opaque cubes of magic that served as dressing rooms. Laurie whispered a word and a door appeared, opening to allow Lyss inside. Lyss stepped in, but Laurie held out a hand to stop her.
“Wait!” she said. “You have to wear this.” Laurie drew from her pocket a triangle of dark material. “It’s to stop you from peeking.”
“A blindfold?” Lyss laughed. “You know, the other students are right…Celia’s followers really are moony.”
Laurie stuck out her tongue. “Haha, very funny. What wit! Just put it on. We want the dress to be a surprise.”
Lyss obliged, rolling her eyes. The world plunged into darkness, and she almost cried out. Biting her lip, Lyss tried not to shake. Only Dara and Christophe knew of her fear of the dark, and she didn’t want anyone else to find out. After what seemed like an age, Lyss felt the stirrings of magic as the dressing room door sealed. Lyss gave into the tremors instantly. The darkness enveloped her completely, threatening to smother her, imprison her. The blindfold was bespelled so she couldn’t remove it: she would never escape…she was back in the cupboard at the orphanage, punished for healing another child…they had forgotten her…she would die there, killed by fear…
Nonsense, Lyss told herself. What is it that Christophe said? ‘There is no darkness without light, and no light without darkness.’ One must exist for the other to be. There is never true darkness: at night there is the moon, the stars; in my room, there is the flickering band of light beneath the door from the hallway torches. Here, there is no silvery light, no dancing flame…yet there is always something. But what?
The answer came so suddenly, and seemed so obvious, that Lyss would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the oppression of the darkness. She remembered an old proverb that Christophe had hanging on the wall of his study. “Hope is the light of every soul.”
Hope. Lyss silently formed the single syllable with her lips. A smile flickered across her face as the dark retreated ever-so-slightly at the strength the word gave her. I officially receive my mastery, and my first assignment, three days from now. After seven long, hard years of study, I have finally succeeded. I faced Dara in hand-to-hand combat, wove a cloak of invisibility, summoned a spirit, sang a duet to lull a dragon, smoothed a sea, connected every mind telepathically in the Castle for one excruciating second, and healed my best friend. Why should I fear a force which will disappear soon enough? It will be gone as soon as the blindfold is removed.
The darkness beneath her eyelids shimmered and brightened with her thoughts. Lyss relaxed. Within her, a flame of faith burned ever brightly. She was free.
The Elvin Star:
Prologue | 1
| 2 | 3 | 4
| 5 | 6 | 7
| 8 | 9 | 10
| 11
Short Stories:
For Robbie
Poems:
Wizard | White
Witch
©1999-2002 Lizbeth